Opening Bid
© 2020 by Walter Reimer



Anulka-Mei Balakrishnan was a very unhappy woman.

The Dhole-Akita canine was still accredited as Terra’s Ambassador to the Empire, but had spent the last few months immured on Downtime Station. Granted, she was in the best guest quarters available, with everything (finally) paid for by the Confederacy, but she’d had nothing to do since leaving Gwath ka-shlal.

So, she was unhappy; and being the person she was, she had made everyone she came into contact with unhappy as well.

The station’s feline commander resisted the urge to flinch as Balakrishnan stormed into his office. He had called for her, after all. “What is it now?” the canine snapped before the door had time to close.

The ocelot had learned something important about his ‘guest;’ being polite as a response to her irascibility only served to irritate her further. He had stood up as she entered, and now he gave her a friendly smile and gestured to a chair. “Please, have a seat, Balakrishnan-jih. I have a message for you.”

The canine gave a hard snort through her nose. “From where?”

The commander smiled again, even as he secretly wished he could throw her out an airlock. “Actually, you have two messages. One from Terra,” and his tail swished as her eyes widened, “and one from Gwath ka-shlal,” and the look on her face was a delight. He tapped a finger on his desktop, and a small holograph bearing the seal of the Terran Foreign Ministry appeared in midair.

Balakrishnan’s reddish fur bristled slightly. “Leave me,” she said, and her ears went back as he shook his head.

“The messages are for me as well, Ambassador.”

He would later have to see if he could masturbate to the expression on the woman’s face.

Her curled tail drooping, she said, “Very well.” She looked like she was trying to stop herself from cresting. He touched and authentication code into the desk, and the seal was replaced by an unsmiling rabbit doe.

Balakrishnan blinked. “She’s not the Minister,” she muttered. A small caption identified her as the Acting Minister. Her ears flicked forward as the recording began.

“Ambassador Balakrishnan, Commander Garza, greetings. I’ve just come from a meeting with the Lord Protector, and he has ordered me to contact you. Anulka, my dear,” and the rabbit bared her teeth, “nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to see you die on that rock, but it seems that you still have a purpose. The Kashlani, it seems, want to talk now.” The rabbit shrugged. “Beats me why they’d want to – their entire Embassy here was killed – but I gave up trying to figure out Critter psychology years ago. Still, we’re at war, and they want to talk, so His Highness thinks that it’s worth our time to see what they want.”

Balakrishnan ground her teeth as the hologram added, “Station staff are being sent orders, and a merchant convoy’s on the way under truce to make sure that we make a good impression.” The ocelot nodded, wondering whether the canine and lapine had been lovers at some point. They definitely had a past. “That’s it for now. Datafiles are being uploaded. Oh, one more thing, Anulka; the Lord Protector asked me to pass on a personal message to you.” She paused.

The canine’s expression grew wary.

“He said, ‘Try not to fuck this up.’” The projection vanished, replaced by several lines of Kashlanin glyphs.

“Commander.” Balakrishnan’s voice was almost a whisper.

“Ma’am.”

“Were you cleared to hear any of this transmission?”

“No, Ma’am.” The ocelot was barely managing to stop himself from smiling.

“Could you step outside . . . please.” The ocelot nodded and left the room.

Anulka-Mei Balakrishnan screamed, wishing she had Shumeng’s scrawny neck in her paws to choke the life out of the little bitch. Several items in her quarters were going to be broken when she got back.

Recovering herself with an effort, she acknowledged the transmission, and listened carefully.