UNITED NATIONS SPACE COMMAND PLANETARY SURVEY

CLASSIFICATION: RESTRICTED

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UNSCPS Experimental Report

Preliminary Analysis of the Agriculture Microbiome of 1352-Alpha-3

Published January, 28, 2554

Commissioned by the Unified Earth Government Senate Committee for Exploration and Colonization

Submitted for the Consideration of the Committee January, 29, 2554

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Microbiological Analysis of Soil Samples from Potential Agricultural Regions of 1352-Alpha-3

Purpose: To produce a preliminary analysis of the microbiological conditions facing efforts to import UEG-native crops to 1352-Alpha-3. To determine novel microbial phyla on 1352-Alpha-3.

Experimental Procedures: Soil samples of mass twenty (20) kilograms were gathered according to standard UNSCPS sampling procedure. Five (5) soil samples were taken from each of six (6) geographical regions identified as having significant agricultural potential. Sampling sites were spaced at a minimum of forty (40) kilometers. Samples were cultured for periods of zero (0), one (1), five (5), ten (10), fifteen (15), and thirty (30) days in LB media. Samples were screened using the UEGDFA Standard Microbiome Evaluation Panel (SMEP), the UEGCBW Standard Biological Contaminant Panel (SBCP), and the UNSCPS Colonial Settlement Microbiome Assessment (CSMA). Results were cross-correlated and analyzed with the University of California, Davis Mass Agricultural Microbiome Analysis (MAMA) software package [1]. A set of five (5) different staple crops, consisting of potatoes, sweet potatoes, soybeans, wheat, and maize, was grown in plots created from each soil sample.

Standard quarantine and sterile procedures were employed in the handling and transportation of soil samples. At the conclusion of experimental procedures, all samples and derived cultures were sterilized via gamma-ray bombardment of duration no less than twelve (12) hours. Final liquidation was achieved via plasma incineration and injection of sample debris into a rapid-decay high-inclination solar orbit with a maximum orbital radius 100,000 kilometers less than the minimum orbital radius of the innermost planet.

Results: A minimum of 80,189, a maximum of 131,432, a mean of 100,723, and a median of 101,655 (SD = 130) distinct microbial species were identified and isolated from each sample. A total of 147,992 distinct microbial species were identified and isolated from the samples. Genetic sequences are highly conserved between the microbiome of 1352-Alpha-3 agricultural areas and similar areas on Earth. Over 99.9 percent of the distinct isolated genomes displayed less than 1 bp difference per kbp from native Earth microbial analogs in expressed genomic regions. In functional laboratory analysis, the products of these sequences displayed no outstanding chemical or physical properties or interactions. Exposure of plant and animal subjects to these microbes revealed no outstanding infectious or toxicological properties.

Less than 0.01 percent of distinct isolated microbial genomes contained more than or equal to 1 bp difference per kbp from native Earth microbial genomes. Model crops displayed little natural resistance or immunological response to their effects. Exposure was found to produce deleterious effects in five (5) commonly planted human crops at significant frequencies (p0.01). It was found that inoculation of crops with certain strains of symbiotic bacteria and fungi native to Harvest, Elysium, and Earth were effective in preventing deleterious effects. It was found that regular application of certain commercially available soil treatment compounds, especially Reveracin and Trinivar, was effective in selectively inhibiting the deleterious activity of 1352-Alpha-3 microbes. Crops treated as such were able to grow in all soil samples within acceptable parameters. When these crops were fed to human subjects, subjects did not display significant adverse reactions during a monitoring period of fifteen (15) days. Replanted crops were able to germinate within acceptable time parameters.

Special Notes: The UNSCPS survey team responsible for Region 4 was spotted and attacked by a group of thirty (30) local individuals claiming allegiance to the 'Dothraki' polity on October, 24, 2553. The UNSCPS survey team suffered one (1) KIA and four (4) WIA. These individuals were successfully detained by the security detail and subjected to Riemann-matrix facilitated deep-cognition interrogation. Intelligence regarding the continent of 'Essos' was obtained as a result of interrogation [2]. Recommend research on surviving individuals as a source of possible antibodies for native 1352-Alpha-3 human-transmissible diseases [3].

For all data, see Appendix A.

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Recommendations for the Committee

In light of the pressing need for greatly increased agricultural output, recommend that the Committee direct the DFA to immediately allow and subsidize corporate settlement and agricultural exploitation of 1352-Alpha-3. Recommend that the DFA and the Centers for Biological Warfare conduct research into possible uses of 1352-Alpha-3 microbes to induce crop failures in hostile states and methods of preventing the same in UEG agricultural areas. Recommend research into the hybridization of UEG crops with native 1352-Alpha-3 equivalents to confer microbial resistance. Recommend consideration of unprovoked local attack on UNSCPS survey personnel as a legal/political justification for liquidation of the 'Dothraki' in preparation for securing 1352-Alpha-3 Regions 3 and 4 for agricultural exploitation.

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Citations:

[1] Kim, Liang, Schneider, et. al. "New statistical package for the broad analysis of soil microbiomes and determination of novel phyla." Journal of Agricultural Sciences, vol. 2576, no. 2, Nov. 2535, pp. 76-82.

[2] Bowman, Chang, Chen, et. al. "Preliminary Geopolitical and Military Analysis of 1352-Alpha-3." Reports of the United Nations Space Command Planetary Survey, vol. 982, no. 1, Jan. 2554, pp. 42-47.

[3] "Revised Ethical Guidelines for the use of Sentient Alien Subjects in Clinical Research." Unified Earth Government Department of Health, Ethical Guidelines for Researchers, Version 3, Jan. 2532, Unified Earth Government Executive Publishing.

"A planet?" said the king, "the bloody fuck is a planet?"

"Er." Figueroa stuttered to a stop, not that he'd gotten started by very much. Behind him, Zheng let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a bark of laughter. In hindsight, perhaps Figueroa shouldn't have started off with a technical term that might not translate between cultures. In his defense, though, he didn't have much practical experience in conducting peaceful first contacts. Even with centuries of theory behind him, there were bound to be some beginner's mistakes "My apologies. May I ask how familiar Your Grace is with the field of astronomy?"

"Astronomy? Hm…" Robert scratched his chins through his scraggly beard. "Might've heard that doddering old fool Pycelle mention it once or twice. What of it?"

Figueroa wilted even further. "Er… let me see…" A memory, half-formed, of a word roots lecture he attended some years ago, floated up from the depths of his brain's circular file. "Ah. Are you acquainted with the idea of 'wandering stars'?"

Arryn made a contemplative noise, lips pressed into a thin line and arms crossed across his chest. "You mean as in the Seven Wanderers? I can't think of what the Faith has to do with any of this."

"Move this mummer's show along," growled one of the Kingsguard knights, fingering the pommel of his sword, "either by yourself or at the point of my blade."

The knight's bravado failed to faze the ambassador, but Figueroa saw Zheng's hand stray marginally closer to his pistol. He made side-eye contact with the captain and gave a slight shake of his head. It's only posturing. The marine nodded and eased up, though his eyes remained on the knight, and the ambassador turned back to the business at hand.

Evidently not the intellectual type then. Arching an eyebrow in the knight's direction and said, "I have every intention of doing so, Ser…" It occurred to him that he did not actually know the man's name. "…Knight." He tapped a few controls on the display table, bringing up a display of the night sky over the Seven Kingdom's little corner of 1352-Alpha-3. Over gasps of surprise and amazement, he said, "Every night, at this time of year, this is about the sight that you see in the sky, yes?"

Arryn nodded, eyes wide as he drank in a perfect replication of the view from the window of the Tower from the Hand, every star rendered in perfect fidelity, suspended in an ethereal pale blue glow. "It is. That is the Red Wanderer right there, the star of the Smith." He pointed to a particular pinpoint of light, tinged slightly red. "How did you create such a lifelike image? And how are you displaying it like this?"

"All in due time, my lord," Figueroa replied. "What you all know as 'wandering stars', we know as planets. And far from being stars, they are actually worlds, just like the one you live on. If we move closer to the 'red wanderer' here…" Manipulating the controls created a rushing effect as if the viewer was ascending rapidly through 1352-Alpha-3's atmosphere. A moment later, and the image changed to the fourth planet in the local star system, 1352-Alpha-4, a red, rocky affair not unlike Mars before terraforming revived its oceans and wrapped a breathable atmosphere around it once again. "We can see that it is in actuality a world, just like yours." To complete the effect, he retrieved the orbital image of 1352-Alpha-3 once more and brought it up in a side-by-side comparison, silently praying that he wouldn't have to explain the concept of a spherical world.

Luckily, it seemed the locals had at least moved past the flat-Earth stage of development. The knights murmured between themselves, seemingly quite taken in by the hologram. Robert however, remained unconvinced. "It's an impressive mummer's show, I'll grant you that much, though 'twould be better with a cup of wine and a wench's tit to squeeze." He laughed, and his guards laughed along with him. "But how can I know it is anything more than an illusion, eh? I hear tell that those bloody Red Priests in Essos can create similar images with fire."

The ONI briefing packet had not covered who these 'Red Priests' were. Figueroa filed that information away for later investigation. "A salient point, Your Grace. I cannot, at the moment, provide definitive, physical proof. That will come on the morrow." Robert's eyebrows rose at the implications of that statement. "But in return, I would ask you this: does it make a difference, whether the wandering stars are actually stars or simply enormous balls of metal and rock? Does the Faith suffer for this revelation? In my opinion, it does not detract from their mystery and splendor, whether they are pinpricks of light or enormous spheres of rock and metal. Personally, if I were one of the Seven, I would much rather sit myself down on solid ground than some blazing hot ball of fire. And besides, what would I gain by misleading you as to their true nature? Does knowing this alter your actions in such a way that my government would benefit from?"

Perhaps that was blasphemy, but Robert did not seem to mind. Instead, he adopted a contemplative look and gazed at the image of 1352-Alpha-4. "Alright then. Say I believe you. What does this have to do with anything?"

"If you accept that the wandering stars are worlds just like yours, it becomes evident that the existence of your world is not a one-off event. Therefore it follows that, in addition to your own world and the Seven Wanderers, there may exist many more worlds, separated from yours by incomprehensibly vast distances but in principle no different." Figueroa gestured up at the night sky, hidden by the roof. "Out there, among the stars, there are worlds beyond counting, so many that, even with a thousand lifetimes, one could not hope to begin to see even the merest fraction of them."

"And you come from one of those worlds, one of those 'planets', as you call them," Arryn said softly, realization dawning in his eyes. "From among the stars, from your people to ours."

"Bingo!—I mean, exactly." Figueroa let out a breath, thankful that that little detour was over. "Well, Your Grace? Does that clarify matters?"

Robert frowned, scratching at his chin. "I would think you drunk," he began, "but since you've seen fit to deny us all the pleasure of a simple cup of wine, I suppose I'll have to settle for fucking insane." Figueroa's face fell, much to the amusement of the knights, as Robert shook his head, eyebrows knitting together. "All this talk of stars and 'other worlds'—hmph, a bloody fine tale for old wives."

"Your Grace—"

"Be quiet, you! I'm still fucking talking, aren't I?!" Robert shouted, cutting Figueroa's protest short. "But in the end, all that matters is that you're from somewhere far away enough that no one's ever heard of it before. Your steel carriages, your weapons that spit thunder, and your fucking flying machines—" The king shook his head, shaggy beard swaying from side to side, as if he still couldn't believe that last part. "—they're proof enough of that. So whether your 'Earth' is on the other side of the world, or another world entirely, it's not much of a difference, is it?" He gestured as if he were holding a cup of wine, then grimaced when he remembered he wasn't. "Carry on, then, describe this 'Earth' to me."

Figueroa nodded, eager to move on from this discussion. "Of course, Your Grace." Now begins the fun part. With a tap, the display switched from its projection of 1352-Alpha-3 to an image of… well, it was certainly a planet with seven continents and seven oceans, but with shapes and geographies completely randomized. Call it not-Earth. Though he knew it was faked, Figueroa felt a brief pang of homesickness as he looked upon it. It did not last — he'd been on assignment too many times for the feeling to linger for more than half a second — and he got ready to recite the script custom-made for this mission by the professional liars of the Diplomatic Corps and ONI Section II. From behind came the click of a gun being taken off safety, and he sensed Zheng staring at him intently, ready to step in and stop him from revealing anything sensitive.

Figueroa schooled his face into a mask of absolute sincerity in order to make the stream of sewage about to seep from his lips smell a little sweeter. "This, Your Grace, is Earth." The ambassador swept his arm towards the hologram. "She resides in a binary star system in the Scutum-Centaurus arm of the galaxy, and is the seat of power of the Unified Earth Government, of whom I am a representative." Behind him, he felt a bit of tension drain out of the captain, and let out a quiet sigh of relief. Had Figueroa even hinted at the true coordinates of Earth, Zheng's orders were to shoot him, shoot the royal party, and then detonate the on-base nuclear warhead.

"Quite beautiful," Arryn said, "but you will forgive me for not knowing what those terms mean." He leaned forward on the display table, studying the planet intently, eyes tracing the outlines of coasts, mountains, and valleys. Figueroa didn't know what he was looking for, but if it was strategic information he would be operating on false assumptions. "I imagine this sort of perspective is quite useful when making plans," he remarked, "Many would kill for a map half as well made. I know I could have used one, back when I…" He trailed off with a glance at Robert, whose expression had suddenly turned stony. "Well, no matter. Please. Continue."

"As you wish." The display shifted through a series of images, images of cities, forests, laboratories, hospitals, schools, and space stations, all carefully altered and edited so as to remove any tidbits of sensitive information. "The history of Earth is… well, I wouldn't say ordinary, but not extremely remarkable, either. We've had our wars." Unorganized crowds of club-wielding warriors charging at each other, Roman legionnaires in testudo formation advancing against a hail of arrows, redcoats forming square to receive French cavalry as clouds of gun smoke made it impossible to discern any details of their weaponry. "We've had our peace." A team of craftsmen united the white hedjet of Upper Egypt with the red deshret of the Lower, Marco Polo arrived at the court of Kublai Khan, the Treaty of Westphalia established notions of national sovereignty, and blue-helmeted UN Peacekeepers watched Koslovic and Frieden leaders signed the Callisto Treaty at bayonet-point. "Nothing that you are unfamiliar with, I'm sure."

"Sadly so. It seems the nature of man cannot be contained by a single world."

"A good thing too!" Robert harrumphed. "How many times must I tell you, Jon, that a man's not alive unless he's a sword in hand, a wench in the other, and a warhorse beneath him? Without battle, we'd all be living like maesters, dull, dusty, and squinting at letters all day! Bah!"

Different value systems. "Yes, that sounds quite dull indeed, Your Grace." Figueroa chanced a look backward at Zheng, who gave a slight shrug. Doing a-okay on infosec, then. He pressed 'resume' on the slideshow before continuing, "But it's not all bad. Over the past four thousand or so years, we've made great advances in science—" A team of researchers stared at a screen filled with readouts, a small portion of a massive particle collider visible through a window behind them. "—medicine—" A scientist squinted at a petri dish, where a tuft of mold had grown amid a bacterial culture. "—art—" A lone painter frowned as he applied the finishing touches to a fresco adorning the massive, vaulted ceiling of a chapel. "—and law." From atop the bench of the High Court of the UEG, a judge struck her gavel and handed down the court's opinion. "For example, it's practically unheard of for people to go hungry these days, and we cracked the cure for cancer a while back." A slight frown crossed his expression as the slideshow ended and the image of not-Earth came back. "Still working on the neurodegenerative cases. Tricky bastards, those, but I've faith the MDs and PhDs'll get there someday."

"For thousands of years, Mother Earth was the only world, the only home we ever knew. As a people, we grew, developed, and advanced, learning about ourselves and our place in the universe, all within her protective embrace." Magnified insets of several regions of not-Earth showed fields of wheat stretching far beyond the horizon, great foundries aglow with the heat of molten metal, and a rocket painted with an archaic red, white, and blue flag tearing its way through the atmosphere atop a column of fire. "However, as wide as her embrace could stretch, it could not hold all of us. Great men and women saw this, and they devised a way for us to leave Earth's embrace, and seek out our place among the stars." Portraits of Galileo, Kepler, Goddard, Einstein, Shaw and Fujikawa faded in and out. "The Unified Earth Government was created to organize, oversee, and govern humanity as it spread throughout the stars, to its present reach of eighteen worlds throughout the Scutum-Centaurus Arm."

"Eighteen worlds…" Arryn breathed in awe. Figueroa wondered how he'd react if he knew the true extent of the UEG's influence, but that, of course, was classified. He instead contented himself with watching the video clip now on display. A space station appeared, in orbit of not-Earth, docked with a fake colony ship that looked like the midsection of a Phoenix-class vessel mated to the front end of a Marathon-class cruiser and propelled by enough N1 rockets to make Lenin's ghost shed a tear. The ship's architecture was completely impossible, not to mention the absurdity of trying to efficiently move such a beast with chemical rockets, but the assembled locals didn't seem to notice, watching with wide eyes as the ship unmoored and moved away from the station. After achieving a safe distance, its form suddenly blurred and elongated, before shooting offscreen as if under the influence of a 20th-Century interpretation of a warp drive, because like hell was Section II going to so much as hint at the mechanism of an SFTE. The view changed to one of another randomized planet, above which the colony ship reappeared in a flash of light. It set down upon the world, forming the nexus of a vibrant colony which, with the speed and smoothness only possible in a simulated time-lapse, grew to become a bustling city.

"There was, of course, conflict as old tensions found new life in new settings. Minor skirmishes, small brushfire wars, nothing serious, but you know how these things go." That same city now burned as soldiers battled through its streets, tracers flying back and forth. Arryn watched with poorly concealed horror and Robert with poorly concealed interest as a drone fighter strafed a rooftop with its cannon, shooting an infantry squad to pieces before it was hit by a lucky MANPAD, lost control and slammed full-throttle into the side of a skyscraper. Both expressions turned full-blown as the unmanned aerospace craft's ordnance cooked off, blowing out an entire floor's worth of supports and structural integrity and sent the top eighty or so floors of the building collapsing to the streets below.

Figueroa took careful note of Arryn and Robert's expressions. Section II formulated this scene, specifically, to intimidate while giving away no technical data could be reverse-engineered. Luckily, it seemed that Robert had not been able to glean any technical principles from the footage. Figueroa wasn't sure he liked the idea of the man having access to black powder, much less PGM-equipped drone swarms. "At any rate, even though we've never had to deal with a major insurrection, or made contact with a major foreign political power prior to you, we are no strangers to settling disputes through force of arms, sad to say as it is." Blatant lies, but there was no need for them to know about the Great War, now was there? Did my nose just grow longer…?

"If that is what your minor skirmishes look like," Arryn said softly, "then I am certain that I would rather not face your armies in an open field." He had a distant look in his eyes, one that Figueroa had seen mirrored often among the company's marines whenever there was a spot of downtime.

"Yes, yes, quite so," Robert added, voice betraying an underlying current of eagerness that Figueroa found himself distinctly discomfited by. "How do I get my hands on one of those flying contraptions? I'd love to see the look on those bloody Targaryen faces when I turn up with a dragon of my own, hah!" Dutiful to a fault, the knights again laughed along with him, though Arryn's expression remained pensive.

"A discussion for a later date, Your Grace." Note to self: absolutely no arms deals. No amount of money could possibly be worth introducing Robert Baratheon to industrial warfare. It seemed Zheng felt much the same, as despite his silence, the captain was practically radiating unease. Figueroa was almost certain that he'd be ordering an increased guard around the armories and vehicle pools, along with redoubled weapons inspections. Also, Targaryens? Must be referring to what's his face… Viserys Targaryen, if I'm remembering that banquet gossip correctly. Lingering resentment — a useful tool for leverage? No. Cost of funding a proxy war — too expensive. Filing that away, the ambassador moved the conversation onto more happy topics. "Despite the occasional slip-up here and there, the aim of the UEG has always and will always be for greater harmony and peace between all peoples, whether they fall under our banner or not." An image of a man and a woman shaking hands appeared, backdropped by the fluttering laurel and globe of the UEG flag. "Though the path may be long and treacherous, my government strives to ensure that, one day, there will be peace, in our time and in all times to come."

"A noble goal," Arryn said. "And an ambitious one. Working together for the greater good—I can think of some people who might learn from that example." He shot a meaningful look at Robert, who completely missed in favor of leaning back disinterestedly in a folding chair that one of the knights had figured out how to work.

"I imagine so. Of course, part of that goal is exploration, expanding our horizons and perspective and so forth. Over the course of doing so, we happened upon your world." A clip played—a ship, of no particular make or model, arriving in orbit of 1352-Alpha-3, the blue-green globe of the planet turning slowly below. A little entranced by the view of their planet from above, the royal party almost missed Figueroa's closing statement. "And now, on behalf of the Unified Earth Government, I am honored to convey its desire to extend to your peoples the hand of peace and friendship, and to communicate its hope that our relationship shall be fruitful and mutually beneficial."

There was a period of silence after that. Figueroa wasn't quite sure what was supposed to come after. Oh, sure, all the movies and books portrayed official contact as this great meeting of cultures, two civilizations coming together in friendship, but come on. Humanity's first contact had been the Covenant, and they'd reacted to 'we come in peace' with 'choke on plasma, heretics'. It'd been quite a blow to the morale and prestige of the Diplomatic Corps, a blow it still hadn't quite recovered from if the rock-bottom recruitment rates were any indication. In any case, given that humanity had, empirically, a zero percent success rate with first contacts, Figueroa couldn't help but feel a small, irrational urge to shout 'abort!' and dive for cover.

As he watched, an unspoken conversation seemed to pass between Arryn and Robert. It was as if each was trying to push the responsibility of delivering a response onto the other. Finally, it seemed Robert won the war of wills, as Arryn finally spoke. "… you say you wish for a fruitful and mutually beneficial relationship, Ambassador." The Hand of the King shook his head with a wondering expression on his face. "The wonders you've shown us today… if even a fraction of them are true, there is much that we could learn from your people. But a relationship involves giving and taking. One must therefore wonder what you, in exchange for such bounties, what you would ask from us… and whether the realm could bear such a price."

Figueroa beamed. "I was wondering when you'd ask." He tapped the display, switching to a slide filled with images of lush fields of wheat, orchards full of fruit, accompanied by statistics on food insecurity and malnutrition in the UEG. "Earlier, I stated that my government has largely been able to eliminate the issue of hunger. This is largely thanks to hundreds of years of technological and agricultural innovations, innovations that we now wish to share with your people." He frowned, thinking back to the conversations he'd overheard at the banquet at King's Landing, and the general impression he'd gotten walking through the city. "It is my understanding that producing enough food is a perpetual concern for your people. My government believes that through the application of our farming methods, we can help ensure sufficient food production as to permanently alleviate that concern."

Arryn's eyes widened, with Robert only a beat behind in his realization of the implications. "You wish to… end hunger among our people?"

"Well, when you put like that it sounds rather silly, but I suppose that yes, that would be the ultimate goal."

"But… but how would that benefit you?"

The ambassador couldn't help but let a slight smirk onto his face. "Due to the advanced nature of our techniques, and the extensive knowledge and skill base required to implement them, my government wishes to lease farmlands for a period of ten years and assume direct responsibility for their cultivation. By bringing in our own crops, equipment, and personnel, we would ensure a swift transition period while simultaneously educating your people on the techniques that we use. My government would agree to sell you food at below-market prices, and in exchange, all surplus produce would accrue to us. That surplus is the benefit that my government sees from this arrangement."

Figueroa hadn't quite understood the plan the first time it was presented to him, but after a closer reading, he had to admit it was rather elegant. Lease the land, turn it over to JOTUN Heavy Industries and their ilk, and let the corporations do what they did best in the complete absence of any kind of regulation; find the fastest, most cost-effective methods of exploiting the shit out of it. Throw the locals whatever scraps they needed, while shipping billions of tonnes of food off-world. After the lease expired, there were a few options; return it to the locals as a dustbowl, stage a few false-flag attacks as a pretense for permanently annexing the land, or set up some local puppet corporations to run things. Face revealing nothing, he continued, "At the end of those ten years, your people would hopefully be educated and equipped sufficiently so that ownership could smoothly handed back." He spread his hands like a used car salesman. "So, how about it? With our help, not only will you be able to produce enough food to comfortably feed all your people, but you'll save money doing it, too. Though the details are still subject to negotiation, there's not much else really to it. Would you be open to such an arrangement, your Grace?"

Robert mulled it over for a minute or so, during which Zheng took the opportunity to finally finish making some coffee. The ambassador took a cup, as did Arryn, having been converted to the drink over the past week. The two knights, standing silently in the background, turned their noses up at the offered refreshments. When the captain offered Robert a cup, the king glanced at it with some puzzlement before waving it away with an irritated gesture. "I can't say that the idea of handing you leave to do as you see fit on the lands of the Seven Kingdoms sits well with me, even if you're paying for the privilege" Robert grumbled, "not to mention those damned Lannisters, Tyrells, and the rest will insist on hashing out deals on their own."

Despite his reluctant words, Figueroa could see that the king was seriously considering the proposal, and decided that it was time to apply a little golden grease to the wheels of business. "I am authorized to inform Your Grace that my government is amenable to paying a reasonable price for access to your farmlands. A very reasonable price. I also know for a fact that the royal treasury could always use a little more gold and perhaps, as a show of our gratitude, you might even allow us to fund a tourney or three…?"

It seemed the prospect of gold flowing into the royal treasury made Robert's decision for him. He hemmed and hawed a little longer, but eventually said, "The fact remains that, as my Hand and that fool Pycelle insist on reminding me every damned hour of the day, winter is coming, and it promises to be a right fucking long one." He drew in a deep breath, one hand flexing as if to close around a phantom cup of wine. "Very well, I suppose your proposal sounds sweet enough. You have my blessing to speak to my lords bannermen, though I warn you, doing business with them is a bloody exhausting affair on a good day, and they're the ones you'll have to convince, not me."

"There's no problem," Figueroa hurried to say, "we are perfectly willing to negotiate with regional governments on a case-by-case basis." It was a bit of a hassle, but this could be worked to the UEG's advantage. Were the Seven Kingdoms to negotiate as a single trading bloc, they might have extracted more favorable terms from the UEG. However, if Great Houses couldn't see past their pride in order to work together, then Figueroa knew that the good people of the Department of Commerce would be more than happy to indulge them, and to fleece them for all they were worth. "So long as you are amenable to our proposal, I'm sure it will all work out in the end. Have you any objections, Lord Arryn?"

The Hand looked for a brief moment as if he did, but then he glanced at Robert and whatever it was died in Arryn's throat. "At face value, none whatsoever. I only hope that whatever comes, our relationship will benefit the people of the Seven Kingdoms."

"As do I." Raising his cup of coffee, Figueroa took a deep gulp, savoring the not-quite-scalding drink as it slipped down his throat. The bitterest brew tastes sweeter after a successful meeting. He'd secured preliminary approval for a critical trade deal, impressed upon the locals the strength of the UEG, and, based on fact his grey matter hadn't made a bullet-catalyzed exit from his skull, maintained information security. That warranted a drink or two, didn't it? "Now, I say we've all spent too long in this stuffy room. Captain Zheng, if you would show our guests to their quarters?"

"Of course. Right this way, Your Grace."

"Commander Kuznia, a word if I may."

"One moment, please." Kuznia frowned at her terminal, then said, "Flight, would it be possible to get a boarding team out to that comet?"

"Negative, sir. The delta-vee to get there and back in a reasonable time would take more fuel than our aerospace craft can carry, even with drop tanks. We'd have to leave orbit and maneuver for a more favorable intercept."

The commander nodded, a contemplative furrow in her brow. "I suppose Pelicans weren't meant for interplanetary travel. Right, thank you Flight. Sensors, let me know if those readings change or if it alters course at all. For now, I'll log it as a point of interest for the xeno-arch teams to check out." Kuznia typed out a short order, sent it, then turned her chair around. "Thank you for waiting, Mister Li. What can I do for you?"

In a plain grey BDU, black combat boots, and a perfectly centered officer's cap, Li Hai Bo looked for all the world like just another marine lieutenant, just one more unremarkable junior officer among the faceless hordes. Kuznia knew better. She counted herself lucky that the Office of Naval Intelligence team onboard Peace had mostly stayed out of the way, confining themselves to their quarters and workspaces. Of course, as lead operative, Li reserved the right to commandeer the ship's ODST detachment for 'special activities', as well as the ship herself. Current visit aside, however, they mostly respected boundaries and did their job quietly, which was a damn sight better than the horror stories Kuznia had heard swapped over a fifth pint of beer at 2300 hours on shore leave. It probably helped that most of them worked for Section I, which meant they at least paid lip service to the idea of cooperating with the military.

This time, however, Li didn't seem much in the mood for such niceties. Skipping the pleasantries, he said in his trademark flat, detached voice, "I have read your plans for bringing a party of local dignitaries onboard the ship. May I be blunt?" Without waiting for permission, the agent went on, "Have you given any thought to the security implications of letting a gaggle of aliens onto a UNSC warship? This does not reflect well on your commitment to information security."

Kuznia arched an eyebrow, but deigned to comment on the operative's tone. "Mister Li, do you truly think so little of the Navy? Perhaps you were too preoccupied to notice all of the computer technicians swarming onboard during our pre-mission layover at Ceres?" An flash of irritation went through Li's impassive eyes. Kuznia suppressed a smile. "With the exception of specially air-gapped terminals in Engineering, the bridge, and the medbay, all technical and navigational information on this ship has been swept clean and replaced with sabotaged documents. Trying to jump to Earth using astrogation data accessed from anywhere else in the ship will land an intrepid explorer in the middle of Sag A Star. Trying to produce gunpowder following the logged formula will produce a compound which, if I recall correctly, immediately undergoes rapid exothermic decomposition and evolves fluorine gas in significant concentrations."

Li conceded the point with a curt nod, but his argument still had a ways to run. "And what of personal devices and effects? On my way to the bridge today, I took note of four separate personal data pads laying unsecured and unattended in the mess hall. Your crew's attention to detail would seem to be lacking." He shook his head and made a tsk-tsk sound. "You know as well as I that it only takes one person getting their hands on one letter home for important intelligence to fall into enemy hands."

With a frown, Kuznia replied, "I was not aware of this incident. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, I will have the security footage reviewed and the offending personnel disciplined. Harshly." Quickly typing a note in her personal planner, she turned that same frown back on the agent. "However, I do not believe that personal devices will pose any more of a security risk than integrated terminals. All were confiscated for the duration of the mission and replaced with sanitized special-issue versions containing no personal information. Olivia is actively monitoring their physical locations, as well as all inbound and outgoing transmissions from this ship." She opened up a file on her terminal, then turned it around so Li could see. "Furthermore, I recently issued orders directing all nonessential personnel to avoid interaction with our guests while they are aboard." Score one for the fleet. We can play at the intel game too, Mr. Naval Intelligence. "And before you ask, I know that you, personally, led a team to remove any trace of physical documentation or reading material from this ship as well. You even tossed out my paperbacks," the commander said, leveling an accusatory stare at the agent. "Was that really necessary, by the way?"

"Your 'paperbacks' were unvetted, unsecured repositories of cultural information presenting a high risk of seeding undesirable political and social development." Li's expression morphed into a severe frown. "I shudder to imagine what would happen if ideas of democracy took hold here."

"A general rise in living standards, perhaps?" Kuznia replied, then added, under her breath, "Pulp sci-fi and Tolkien are 'repositories of cultural information' now, are they?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Still, the fact remains that there is no navigational or technological documentation of any sort onboard this ship that would be accessible to the few people I plan to allow onboard. For no more than half a day, mind you. There's no way for them to garner enough to reverse-engineer any of our technology."

"Documentation, yes, but what about the technology itself? Things have a habit of falling out of even the best-designed tracking systems. You can hardly expect to secure every single nut and bolt. In addition, unless you plan on causing a diplomatic incident by blinding our guests, they are free to observe and inspect whatever they lay eyes on." Li folded his arms and glanced pointedly about the bridge. "Just standing here and looking about, I can derive several principles of computing and electromagnetism."

Kuznia's other eyebrow rose to join its companion. "That's mighty impressive, Mister Li. Just from looking?" Li met her doubtful gaze with his own expressionless one. "In any case, I have thought about that as well. Our guests will be searched upon boarding and disembarking and will be under video surveillance and armed escort at all times. And, frankly…" She glanced around and lowered her voice. "None of the people on the list seem particularly technically-minded, if you catch my drift."

"Enough so that UNSC weapons and engineering data remain secure?"

"They'll come nowhere near the weapons systems, and while they will be allowed to view the bridge and the medbay, I intend to keep them away from sensitive stations and moving fast enough to afford them no opportunity to take a closer look. And, in the event that it transpires a particularly sneaky individual managed to remove some technology from its rightful place…" The commander cracked a tired half-smile. "The Peace carries two HAVOKs. Protocol obligates me to liquidate captured UNSC assets by any means available. I, personally, am quite curious as to what a thirty-megaton surface detonation in a medieval population center would look like."

It looked as if Li had more he wanted to say, but he chose to let the topic drop with a dismissive sigh. "Very well, I see that you have taken precautions. However, my team will be monitoring this… visit at all times."

"I would expect no less. Now, was there anything else you wanted, or can I go back to running my ship?"

"A small request. Nothing burdensome. You will provide supplies and transportation for myself and a few members of my team to a location on the continent known locally as 'Essos'." A notification blinked on Kuznia's terminal. She looked down to see a file had just been sent to her, containing an ONI letterhead.

"When did you…?" She couldn't recall seeing Li using a datapad, and if it was one of his team members who'd done that, then that was some scary good coordination. "Of course. I am obligated to assist. And I'm sure you've provided a clear and uncensored summary of your mission in this document, but would you mind filling me in on some of the unclassified details while we're talking here?"

The agent glared at her, unamused. "You know better than to discuss mission details in an unsecured environment."

Kuznia winced. And right after I got done with a massive security spiel, too. Smooth move, Abigail. "I deserved that. Can I at least get a risk assessment for my pilots? They're the ones who'll be infiltrating and extracting you. And yes, I know you probably have one in your brief, but I want to hear it from you."

Li pressed his lips together, clearly debating whether or not to humor her. "You have my personal assurances," he finally said, "that your pilots will face no extraordinary risks. Barring acts of a higher power or random mechanical failure, I would personally judge the risks of casualties at less than one percent."

The commander searched his face for a second longer before sitting back with a reluctant sigh. "I'll review your files and assign the necessary assets." She turned her chair back around and waved a hand. "Go do what you do best, Mister Li."

"Your cooperation is appreciated, Commander."

The bridge doors had closed behind Li with a light hiss of hydraulics. The operative walked for a few meters down the corridor leading to it, turned left, walked a few more meters, then ducked into a storage room. Surrounded by firefighting equipment, he pressed a finger to his earpiece and initiated a secure channel. "Owens," he said, "do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, sir. Line reading secure on my end." Agent Michael Owens, his second-in-command, came through cleanly. "How'd it go?"

"As expected. We have the support we need. I'll be taking the team down today."

A loud exhale came over the line. "For fuck's sake. We're seriously chasing cryptids, then? Helluva lot to bet on a rumor…"

"We are not just 'chasing cryptids' as you put it. We are also establishing local sources of HUMINT and contacts for future operations."

"Right." Owens took a second to pull himself together. "You'll be taking Singh, Cabrini, and Jackson, sir?"

"Correct."

"Okay. Anything for the rest of us to do while you're gone?"

"Your priority is monitoring the local VIP delegation when they come aboard tomorrow. Kuznia says she'll have them under constant surveillance, but I want Naval Intelligence eyes on them as well, at all times. Try to get Russo friendly with one of them. When you're done with that, get looking into those North Pole readings. I think that's our next stop after this."

"Roger." There was a pregnant pause as Owens tried to think of a closer. Li humored him, tapping his foot to the beat of a flip tune that wandered into his head. "I'll be standing by with the rest of the team if you need a hot exfil."

"With due respect, Owens, if we need to get pulled out, I'll call the ODSTs before you."

"Fair." The man's grin was audible. "Alright, have a good one. Bring back some… expensive souvenirs."

"I will strive to." With that, Li cut the channel and ran a hand down his face. His second-in-command was reliable, but his professionalism could slip, just the slightest bit, on occasion. He supposed that, with the small size of his team, some amount of familiarity was inevitable, and indeed desirable to ensure smooth interpersonal relationships and teamwork. As long as his agents got the job done, he had no complaints. With a sigh, Li got up and headed down to the ship's main armory.

He arrived within a few minutes, and three faces looked up at his entry. Agents Ajeet Singh, Vera Cabrini, and Claire Jackson, already in the proscribed uniforms for this excursion: standard fatigues, carrier harnesses, combat helmets, and light ballistic vests with composite armor plates for the shoulders, thighs, and upper arms for added melee protection, all patterned in desert camouflage. Their modern clothes would stick out like a sore thumb among the medieval crowds, but with flamboyant and foreign dress being the norm in the mission area, Li was banking on the novelty of their outfits quickly fading as people grew bored of them, while an amateurish attempt to blend would deny them access to valuable equipment and might even make them stand out even more. Li was pleased to see that the three had a map of their AO spread out in front of them, clearly having been going over approaches to their target.

"Sir!" Cabrini rose and saluted, the other two following. "Do we have a green light?"

"Indeed. As expected, Commander Kuznia will provide all necessary support assets."

"Good to see Section Three hasn't completely ruined our rapport with the fleet," Singh said, threading a silencer onto his unloaded pistol. "Are there any major changes to the plan, sir?"

"Negative. Objectives are all the same. Just remember that not all the locals speak English, and their other languages have no Earth equivalents, so don't try to impress anyone by speaking in tongues. Stick to English, and if and when it doesn't work, mime it out. Also, don't drink untreated water, eat food you didn't cook yourself, or go touching your faces. Respirators on at all times. We don't have the luxury of lugging a sterile field generator with us, and the last thing we need is to come down with some kind of local super-flu."

"Understood, sir." Jackson shook her head, fingers drumming a nervous beat on the combat knife on her left shoulder. "It's still a little unreal. It feels like we've dropped into a fantasy story I read in high school."

"We'll adapt. We always have." Li smiled at the round of nods he received, then went to put on his own gear. "Head down to the hangar bay, I'll be around in a minute. Ladies, gentleman, let's bag us some dragon eggs."

"In light of favorable diplomatic developments, I advise the postponement of Operation Victoria Purple. I do not believe that current circumstances warrant direct military action to secure UEG interests. Furthermore, I advise that the corporate settlement schedule be accelerated, aiming for a start date no later than seventy days from today. Lastly, I request the deployment of additional Diplomatic Corps and Department of Commerce personnel in order to carry out negotiations with local regional authorities. I believe that the security situation is stable enough and the need urgent enough to justify deployment of additional personnel with minimal additional security support. For further information, please see my attached report."

Figueroa waited for half a second before ending the recording. He tapped a few times to send it, confirmed that Peace had successfully received and relayed it, then sighed and dropped his head onto his desk, sending a solid thunk throughout the confines of his quarters. His job was interesting, even fun on good days, but a long day of work still wore on him like anyone else. Were he back on Luna, he'd switch his suit for something casual and hit the local dive bar with friends, but 1352-Alpha-3 was not Luna, and the cheaper alcohol here — his salary ached just looking at some of the more expensive stuff — was liable to give him methanol poisoning.

"At least Robert was agreeable," he mumbled into the desktop. Some of his colleagues had horror stories from mediating trade disputes between colonies, stories of intractable legislatures and populist leaders to caught up smelling their own farts to come to any sort of agreement. Fortunately, the threat of a more direct UEG intervention that a diplomat's presence implied usually brought people to their senses, sooner or later. Figueroa was just glad that he wouldn't have to go through that 'later' portion of the whole ordeal, though given that he was looking at possibly multiple rounds of negotiations with regional governments… He shook his head. Failure was not an option here, not with the result of failure being widespread famine. Unless the UEG could conveniently stumble across an uninhabited garden world or convert every ounce of its shattered industry towards building hydroponics facilities, this planet was the best bet for giving UEG food production the massive shot of adrenaline it needed.

A knock at his door shook his out of his funk. "Yes?" he called.

"Ambassador Figueroa?" came an unfamiliar voice. "My name is Private Zelinsky. I was sent to inform you that your presence is requested at the mess hall."

Ah. Right. That. He wasn't looking forward to having to interact with Queen Cersei again, but as his superiors had always been fond of reminding him…

"… grinning and bearing it is a part of the job." With a final, solid pat to his cheeks to wake himself up, Figueroa, stood, pulled on his suit jacket, and opened the door. "Thank you, Private Zelinsky. I will be along shortly."

"As you say, sir."

The ambassador ran a hand down his face as the private walked off. Get through this dinner, give a tour of the ship, and then negotiate seven separate trade deals with seven separate noble houses. Why does that last part sound like the easiest? Figueroa shook his head ruefully. Perspective, Mateo.

Running a hand down his face one last time, the ambassador donned his best smile and started off towards the mess hall, saying a silent prayer that the Queen wouldn't bite his head off.

And that she would like the food.