Several days later, Chalmers had worked through the atomic spectra tables.  His three crystals matched none of the known elements.  He detoured over to physics, the atomic radiation people, and asked if they could tell if his materials were radioactive.  The question had come up, after all, though Professor Watership had tried a reasonable test already.  The answers were all negative.

Finally, he tried another visit to the mass spectroscopy group. He’d made a point of not nagging them for results, but he was well beyond their estimated time for results.  He’d carefully been imprecise about his results with the ebullioscope, which could halfway be understood as having something like chlorine, a mixture of isotopes.

“Ah, Mister Chalmers,” came a firm voice as he stuck his head into the mass spectrometer laboratory. Professor Smith was the person who set up and ran the machine.  “Were you happy with our results?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Chalmers said, “but I actually haven’t received the results yet. I didn’t want to seem to be nagging, but I’m very interested what answer came out.”

“You haven’t?” Professor Smith sounded surprised. “I’m sure you were scheduled for your sample run a couple days ago. Let’s see what happened.”

The responsible technician was sitting at his desk around the corner, writing up results of a recent measurement.  He stood as Smith and Chalmers entered.

“Where are the results?” The technician answered. “The results were impossible, so I simply threw out the film. I wasn’t going to waste anyone’s time with it.”

“Results may be wrong, Mr. Michaels,” Smith said, “but they’re never impossible. If they were impossible, they couldn’t happen. What was wrong?”

“For each sample, I had one line for the fluorine, and a one line for the unknown. And some noise. The unknowns are like fluorine, you only see one isotope for each sample. But the unknowns were single isotopes, and their masses weren’t integers, which the laws of nature require. They were close to half integers. You can’t do that, so something was wrong. I don’t know what.”

“I wish I’d heard about that sooner,” Smith said. “Do we still have the film?”

“”Yes sir, I dropped it in the trash, but the trash hasn’t been picked up yet this week.”

“Well, fetch it, and I’d like to see it,” Smith said firmly. “I agree nothing like this is happened before, so I can’t complain too hard that I didn’t tell you what to do if it did.  Next time, if things don’t make sense, please tell me.”

The abashed technician handed over the film.  Smith led Chalmers to a light table, laid out each strip of film, and did a few measurements.

“Mr. Michaels,” Smith called across the room to his technician, “I agree with your half-integer atomic weights, so you seem to have gotten that part right. And if I’d been in your boat, I don’t know what I’ve done either. Which leads to a question, Mr. Chalmers. There are simpler ways to measure atomic weights. Freezing point depression. Boiling point elevation. Chemical analysis. Was there a reason you didn’t use those?”

Chalmers swallowed. “Sir, I actually did. I found strange results. For the first, atomic weight 52.5. Except the ebullioscope readings made no sense. But my result seemed hard to understand, unless it was like chlorine, with two isotopes, which your instrument can check, and colligative properties do not.”

Martinez realized that standing close behind him was the Grand Supreme Admiral.  He snapped a salute. “Sir!”  Regulations dictated that he remain at his station, but military courtesy also had a place.

“I see that the rest of the duty crew is out to lunch,” Thatcher said. “After all, there was no need for a relief detail for lunch, when no one in their right mind would have thought that anyone might show up unexpectedly. Do we have any idea what we are looking at?”

“Sir, they’re not in our light cone yet. I see the emergence, and I can track four ships coming up to some level of power, but it will take the AI systems a while to suggest what I might be looking at. The best I can say is that their drives are running very smoothly, so that they are pulling some tens of gravities with almost no graviton admissions.   Really powerful drives being run at low power will do that.”

Thatcher took the adjoining chair.  “I see you have all of the position data panels seconded to your screens, so even if the rest of the crew isn’t here at the moment you have track of everything.  Time to get images?”

“I was hoping for another minute,” Martinez said,  “though it depends a bit whether the observation buoys are up and running completely or not, which I can’t monitor from here, and which aren’t in our chain of command, anyhow.”

“Here we are having Fleet maneuvers,” Thatcher said, “so these people must be latecomers to the dance. Who are we missing?”

“All ships are here,” Martinez said. “The Anglic Union, from Old Earth, is supposed to be sending a group of ships, but they weren’t expected for several days yet. However, here comes the IFF signal and some images.”

Thatcher stared patiently at the screens.

“Sir,” Martinez said, “according to the IFF, these are the Anglic Union ships. They are the Langley, Hiram Maxim, Orville Wright, and Wilbur Wright. And in a moment the holodisplay will show us one of them.”

There appeared before the two men an image of a single ship. According to the pictures, the Langley was a thick pancake, painted white, accelerating parallel to its minor axis.

“That’s certainly different,” Thatcher said to himself. “Does that match anything we have on file?”

“Sir, so far as I can determine our people on Terra advised us of the names of the four ships, and made the remark that Anglic Union ship design was extremely eccentric and highly backwards. They neglected to mention that anything specific was unusual about the shape of the Anglic Union ships.   They suggested that nothing should be expected of Anglic Union ships other than serving as ore freighters.”

“Traffic Control should have hailed them by now,” Thatcher said. “Has there been a response?”

“No, sir. However, Traffic Control is probably also out to lunch. After all, the warp point is closed during maneuvers.” Martinez shrugged. “The folks at the far end should’ve had plenty of notice that the Terrans had showed up, and should’ve sent through to us a message boat telling us of the Terran arrival. They seem not to have done that.”

“Basic lesson for a first-line officer,” Thatcher said. “Trust your fellow sailors, but don’t assume they will do everything right.”

“Will do, sir, and thank you for the advice.”

Three days later, Chalmers returned with the needed spectra.  There was a modest line for using the departmental spectroscopy facility, the technician in charge of the unit had been out of town for a day, instruction on using the instrument had to be scheduled, but finally Chalmers had his spectra, spread over short rolls of photographic film.

“I see that you’ve been very busy,” Watership said.  “Your course grades were outstanding.  The regular samples that came in were analysed, you have set up to recover more of the trace metals from the Heath samples, and now with spectra you can tell us what was present in the orange sand. “

“I wish I could,” Chalmers answered. “Professor Hildebrand said the ebullioscope readings were mysterious, just as you said, and the spectra don’t match the standard table, either as a single element or as a combination of some sort. So I took another small sample to the mass spectroscopy lab.  We’re the only school on the west coast to have one.  I’m not allowed to touch the system – too fragile – so I get to wait for an assistant to run the machine.”

“Good initiative,” Watership said.  “The Department Library has a larger spectral table, spectra of elements and complex ions. Have you tried that one yet?”

“No, sir.”  Chalmers grimaced. He’d looked unsuccessfully for better tables.  “Actually, I missed that we had a larger table.  I’ll try that tomorrow; library is about to close for today.”

“Let me offer a suggestion,” Watership said.  “Make a table.  A column listing all the elements in order.  Blanks for the elements no one has seen. A column for each of your crystals.  Work through, one element at a time.  Systematic means you won’t forget to check an element.  Note known lines that are close but wrong.”

“Yes, sir,” Chalmers said. “I wish I’d thought of that.”

“Learning these little tricks,” Watership remarked, “most of which don’t seem very important, is actually an important part of being a successful chemist.  The other parts include working very hard, which you clearly understand, and reading extensively, which I gather from Joel that you’ve been doing. So go to it, and by the way at some point try analyzing that violet crystal, too.”

“Very well.”  Rosenstein  nodded once.  “Fleet Intelligence does not object to your request.  But you will be watched.  Carefully.  If you start prying about in other parts of the Library, I can and will have you sent home.”  Rosenstein stood and stomped out of the room.

Daystar took a deep breath.  “That was … different,” she said.   “Are you now prepared to discuss file transfer issues?  The First Empire’s Encyclopedia Astrographica has almost the same format as its modern equivalent…”

There is now a substantial gap, during which the Anglic Union starts building serious spaceships and, to deal with another annoyance from the Stellar Republic, agrees that when they build warships some of the ships will be seconded to the Stellar Republic’s fleet for consideration for purchase.

With the Scout Ships

Stars seen through the warp point shimmered. One after the next, the four scout ships that the Anglic Union had seconded to the Stellar Republic swam through the opening they had forced in space. With only a few seconds delay, AUAS ships Langley, Hiram Maxim, Orville Wright, and Wilbur Wright brought up their defense screens and drives and began accelerating away from the warp zone.

A fraction of an astronomical unit away, the warp point’s one fortress noted the appearance of unscheduled ships and began to climb toward battle stations.

“Grand Supreme Admiral of the Fleet Thatcher,” Senior Technician Second Class Martinez chanted into his communicator, “we have unknown spaceships passing through the remote northeast segment of the warp zone. I count four ships of an unknown type.  In accord with operation plans, I have brought the base to battle stations.”

Martinez leaned back in his chair. Strictly speaking, he had flipped open the covers and pressed the two buttons that sounded the battle stations alarm.  The base was well-run. It might come up to battle stations in as little as ten or twenty minutes. Meanwhile, he had carried out his duty, notified his superior officer of the situation, and now got to watch to see what would happen.

The unknown ships were still outside of the base’s light cone. Only the gravitronic detectors were giving any indication that the ships were there. He stared at one of his displays. If the display was to be believed, the ships had powered up screens and drives almost instantaneously after passing through the warp point. The usual time for ships of the Imperial Navy was several minutes, that being a bit optimistic for some squadrons. They were also considerably closer together than units of the Stellar Republic Fleet would choose to be, at least on emerging from a warp line. 

Who were these people? He wondered. He felt a slight flutter of concern that he might actually be facing unknown hostile ships. Of course, that was absurd.  Star M13927 was inside the boundaries of the Stellar Republic. The known links to that warp point all connected to heavily populated solar systems. 

Now he heard footsteps coming up the corridor behind the Operations Center.  He had ordered battle stations, so sooner or later someone would get around to closing the armored doors at each entrance to the Center. However, that was not his job, even though he could do so with the touch of a few keys, so he would leave that task to whoever’s responsibility it was. He tried to remember who was supposed to be doing that, but had been so long since he had reviewed the battle station’ s operations plan that he simply didn’t remember.

“Ah, Mister Martinez,” came the voice behind him.  “You noted the emergence and immediately did the right thing, as opposed to asking your immediate superiors what you should do. That’s excellent initiative!”

Three days later, Watership found his technical assistant hard at work in the lab.  “Not finished yet?” he asked.

“The situation is highly annoying,” Chalmers said.  “I’ve been doing these analytical series on rocks every day for more than a year now. Your procedure makes analysis a routine.  The sand is mostly what you would expect, silica and alumina. The strange borax bead tests – yes, I know how old fashioned they are, but I did them first to confirm that the material here is indeed the material described by Eisenhower – corresponds to a minor component.  I followed your lecture notes, step by step, and found … something.  On evaporation, it crystallizes into three sorts of crystal.  They give  the borax bead colors…everything else in the sample does not.  So I’m trying to identify one of the crystals.  I can tell you lots of things it isn’t, but not what it is. Some complex ion?  But it survived the concentrated sodium hydroxide.”

“Take a day to write up what you have done,” Watership answered, “and why at each step.  Sometimes, when I tried to write something up, I realized I was making a simple mistake.”

“I’ll do that,” Chalmers answered.  “I may need two days; I’m in the middle of exams for all three of my courses.  And by then the department ebullioscope will be free from the senior lab.”

“Exams are more important.  Write it up carefully.”

* * * * *

Chalmers glared at the ebullioscope.  Vapor pressure reduction due to dissolved materials was a very simple experiment, at least if you were careful.   But something was going wrong.  His calibration experiments all passed, but the unknowns were being uncooperative.  There came a knock at the door. Professor Watership stuck his head in.

“I read your write-up,” Watership announced.  “I had my exams to grade first.  Your notes were very professional.  You seem to have done everything right.  Identifying those crystals sounds to be a good Master’s Thesis, unless the answer turned out to be very simple, say, a faulty reagent.”

“Amen to that,” Chalmers answered.  “I shouldn’t have needed a week, and should apologize for making such a mess of things.  I should at least write this Eisenhower gentleman, and tell him what I have found, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes, it’s about time,” Watership answered.  “Your report and a cover explanation should do it.  Telling him you found an aluminosilicate, and trace metals giving the novel bead test, the metals not being part of the ordinary analytic series, should be enough to tell him he and his friend have found a new mineral.”

“That reminds me,” Chalmers said, not quite enthusiastically.  “May I ask Physics to measure the spectrum of these?   That would tie down what elements are actually there.  Then I can back trace to what I did wrong.  But I know it’s a bit expensive.”

“That’s part of your grad lab sequence, anyhow,” Watership answered.  “Ask them.  You seem to have spent a lot of time with these measurements…what is the issue?”

“I can measure vapor pressure reduction.”  Chalmers pointed at the instrument.  “Standard grad lab experiment.  But the reduction is too large.  Not a little too large, a lot too large.”

“What do you mean, too large?”  Watership felt puzzled.

“For the unknown, I prepared the sulphate and the chloride.  I measured directly how much sulphate or chloride were present…precipitation methods.  So if there is, say, tenth-molar chloride present, the unknown anion should have the same concentration, or half that if it’s divalent, and I can calculate the vapor pressure reduction I should expect.  With the chloride, I get twice the expected reduction.  With the sulphate, I get more than twice.”

“If there is a…no forget that idea.” Watership shook his head.  “If you formed a compound ion, the reduction would be too small, not too large.   We are out of my remit.  I’m a minerologist, not a physical chemist.  Write up what you’ve found, get an appointment with Professor Hildebrand, and say I sent you.  Meanwhile get those spectra, and we can tell Eisenhower exactly what he has.”

“We’re quite new,” Daystar said.  “We’re a uniformed civilian service, like the old Surgeon General’s Corps. I’m here also to aid our Embassy in putting its archives, which extend over several centuries, into order; they’re currently unsorted.”

”So why do you want access to old First Empire star maps?” Rosenstein asked.  “Why not just use the Encyclopedia Astrographica?”

“The most famous literary quarrels,” Daystar answered, “mostly associated with the quantum retrodictive doctrine of the House of Pwill, are cases in which a warp link is to be inferred from literary allusions, and there is a dispute as to whether or not a particular link existed on the most likely dates of writing. My objective is to take the list of stars, show which stars had hyperlinks, and when the links came into being or disappeared.  So I am constructing a star map, but not the fixed map of the Encyclopedia. Instead I am constructing  a dynamic map that shows warp links, including links that came or went.  Once that map is complete, scholars interested in the history of literary-critical disputes will be able to determine which interpretations of allusions are plausible, thereby settling some disputes, and doubtless creating many new ones.”

“This literary criticism?  It’s from the Second Empire?” Rosenstein asked. 

“Early Second Empire,” Daystar answered.  “More often First Empire.  When the Imperial Senate met in the Hall of Ghosts, praise be its name, the Senate occasionally sat as judges in a literary-critical verbal disputations.”

Rosenstein shook his head.  “And what is your interest in more practical topics?” he asked.  “Starship design.  Construction of warp nodes.  Fusactor operation.”

“None,” Daystar answered.  “Adequate information on First-Empire starships is in ‘All the Galaxy’s Warships” and the matching merchant volumes.  I’m just looking for information on warp links as they come and go.”

“Honorable Commander Rosenstein,” Senior Librarian Luthcur said, “We can readily put filters on the files your fellow human is seeking to copy.  The process is very nearly foolproof, not to mention that First Empire starships were also quite primitive by  modern standards.  Their major trade routes were filled with starships having only beta drives.”

“Your project sounds remarkably worthless,” Rosenstein said.  “It is amazing that anyone would fund it.  Have you ever met Chelan?”

“Victor Chelan?” Daystar asked, rearranging her thoughts.  “I’m in the Seldon Legion. Someplace along the way we must have met, but that must have been quite some time ago.  My memory says he is not very much like the usual biographic sketches.  He may take command of a room, but he is not tall or large or loud.  He just has presence.”

“So what does he think of this project?” Rosenstein asked.

“If he has any interest in historical studies of literary criticism, I haven’t been told about it,” Daystar answered. That was technically true, she thought.

&&&&&

The sky was a bright blue over the University of California, Berkeley, Chemistry Building.  A fresh breeze blew through the Golden Gate and over the campus.  An unusual summer shower had freshened the lawns and put down the dust.  Within the building, Professor Watership conferred with his rara avis, a graduate assistant.

“Ah, Mister Chalmers,”  Professor Watership smiled.  “As always, your reports are excellent.  Berkeley Chemistry and Mineralogy is indeed fortunate to have you as my technician.  Our Department Head tells me that your grades are also first-rate.  Professor Hildebrand spoke up for your work doing library reading and research.  As a graduate student, you are approaching the point where you should write a Master’s Thesis and then begin work on a doctoral project. To some extent, you are expected to come up with your own doctoral research topic, but first I have something that will be entirely adequate if done quickly for a Master’s Thesis.”

“And that would be, Sir?” James Chalmers asked.  “This would be in addition to my paid work and courses?”

“It would be the equivalent of a course for a term or two. Hopefully a term or less, since I suspect there will be competition. You perhaps heard about the blasted heath in Arizona?”

“Yes, sir. It was terrible, what happened all those people. And no explanation as to how or why.” Chalmers frowned and shook his head.

“I have a contact in Prescott,” Watership explained.  “Karl Eisenhower says he is just an amateur gem dealer, but he has identified and sent off to here for analysis more new minerals than anyone else I would care to name.  In any event, the Associate Sheriff of the town, who as strange as it sounds has a doctorate in physics from Harvard, recognized two new minerals that are clearly associated with the Heath and that Karl has never seen before. He sent us samples of both of them and asks for analysis, so that they can be named.  He also sent us what is allegedly a piece of steel, if you ignore that it shatters like glass, which I took over to metallurgy.”

“That sounds truly interesting,” Chalmers responded.  “We have them already?”

“Some thoughtful clerk in the Prescott Post Office marked the box ‘Forensic Samples, Blasted Heath, Urgent” and they reached us in only two days.  The box then languished in the mail room over the weekend.”

“Remarkable! I look forward to starting,” Chalmers said enthusiastically.

“Some caution is needed,” Watership explained. “Arizona sent a troop of cavalry through the blasted heath, and most of the horses and men are now either sick or dead. I infer that something in one of the minerals or the area has become poisonous. I took the precaution of testing, the Roentgen test, key on photographic plate, to see if either sample is radio-active, but the answer seems to be in the negative. In any event, start with the orange sand. We have a lot of it. The violet transparent stones are very pretty, but there are not many of them and it is not clear that we can get more. Oh, there’s a cover letter from the physicist, describing exactly where the stones were found, and reporting the tests done by Mr. Eisenhower. As modern science, they leave a tad bit to be desired, but the tests were undoubtedly done carefully.”

“I can start on it now,” Chalmers said.

“Notwithstanding haste, go to lunch first.  A hungry hand is a careless hand.”

“I am indeed, Professor Daystar,” Trewlin answered. “I am here to review your request  for copies of certain obscure library files. Our guests are here, as per library rules, because they have additional, related questions.”

“I see,” she said as she took her chair, without asking their permission to sit, and leaned back.  “The requests, which refer to the First Empire, appeared to me to be quite innocuous: Lists of star positions.  However, sometimes others see in a request issues that you did not.”

“Indeed,” Trewlin  said. “That is the issue here, which is why our honored guests are Terran Navy Commander Isaac Rosenstein and Senior Librarian Jurseth Luthchur.”

“Senior Librarian,” Daystar said, nodding in respect. “Commander.”

“You saluted the Corporal outside,” Rosenstein snapped, “and not me?”

“I,” Daystar answered, “saluted the Star of Jinjur, the medal he wore, the highest Second Empire decoration.  After all, the Anglic Union maintained until the end pacific diplomatic relations with the Empire.”

“Yes, he did have some award or another.  Let’s get on with it.” Rosenstein announced.  “I’m here because we have certain questions for you, questions you will answer truthfully if you want library access.”

Daystar could read the looks on the faces of the two Jinjurians.  The research librarian was showing shocked astonishment.   Senior Librarian Luthchur showed the deep sadness of one who knows that there is a boot on his neck, a boot that will remain there forever.

“I am happy to give truthful answers,” Daystar said.  “That’s an obligation of my Service.”

“Your Service being?” Rosenstein asked.

“I am the Professor of Ancient History at June Moffat Memorial University,” Daystar answered.  “My current interest is studying First-Empire literary-critical quarrels arising from inadequate astrographic data, notably incorrect references to warp point connections.  I was…”

“First Empire literary criticism?” Rosenstein shouted.  “ Literary criticism from a thousand centuries ago?  What nonsense are you claiming? That’s obviously totally lacking in practical value.”

“As I was saying,” Daystar continued, oblivious to Rosenstein’s bellows, “I was seconded by my University to the Anglic Union Astrographic Service, so I could be sent here to do my research.”

“I’ve never heard of you people?” Rosenstein grumbled.  “Do you really exist?”

Bye and bye a State Police car arrived with passenger.

“Major Grigsby, Sir,” Cornelius said, “good to see you again.”

“And you also,” Charles Grigsby said.  “It’s still early, the air is cool, so I can look forward to the flight.”

“The waterskins are in the rear seat,” Cornelius observed, “and thank you for finding them.  Mind you, I very much do not want to have to walk out of that place, but with those we likely can.  I’d prefer not to fly over it at all, but he who pays the piper calls the tune.”

“I completely agree,” Charles said.  “And the first indication of airplane trouble, however small, I am happy if we turn around for home.  The militia squadron that rode across this place, their horses died, and the men are in hospitals.  Someone had the bright idea, drink absolutely all the water you can, eat sea-salty foods, and the poison seems to be flushing from their systems.  They’re getting better, not worse.”

“I looked at your map,” Cornelius said.  “The geologists’ route makes perfect sense. It gets them as close as possible to the glassy field before they enter the yellow sand.”

“Some slight controversy at the front end,” Grigsby observed,  “not in the newspapers.  They’re Prescott men, paid for by a Prescott businessman looking for new gemstones, but they started here, not there.  Prescott newspaper was upset.”

“The Prescott paper is always upset,” Cornelius responded politely.  “They want Prescott to be the state’s leading city, but that’s simply not going to happen.  Let’s get into the air.  It’s not getting any cooler.”

With a powerful drone of its engine, the Oriole took to the air and banked to fly north.

“We’ll be climbing for a while,” Cornelius said.  “I’m not pushing the engine toward full power if I don’t have to.   However, you should be able to see the Prescott road off to your left.”

“I can, indeed,” Charles said, “and we have another twenty miles before we head off to our right to follow the edge of the hills.  I’d say that should be about 060 magnetic, but I am warned that magnetic compasses have become unreliable.”

“Darn right they have,” Cornelius agreed.  “I positively will not do night flying any more, and not two days ago the night mail flight was lucky to find the Sky Harbor.  Fortunately  the pilot recognized the city lights before he ran out of fuel.”

The Oriole climbed ahead into the blue sky lifted by the first thermals of the morning.

“We should be coming up on the Date Creek Wash,” Charles finally said.

“I see it, so now we follow, staying this side of the hills.”  Cornelius gave a thumb’s up gesture.

“I’m tracking them against the map,” Charles responded. “Soon we take the gentle left.”

“It’s dead ahead,  but I see the glass field. We’ll stay a few hundred feet up.”

They circled the sea of glass, seeing nothing, then turned back.

“I see a trio of mules,” Charles announced, “slightly to our left, where they’ve found a bit of water, and, yes, I see two men lying on the ground.  They’re both face down.  They’re dead, or unconscious.  And there’s another mule…it’s lying on its side, must be dead.”

“OK, I will circle around,” Cornelius said,  “try to hold our speed at sixty, and we can do a timed flight from them back to the sand edge.”

A few minutes later, the distance measurement was complete.

“About a half mile of golden sand,” Charles said.  “They almost made it back out.  People wait until evening when it’s cool, go in with protective gear and gas mask, and bring out the bodies and the animals.”

“Not me, thank you,” Cornelius said.

“Nor I. Wearing a gas mask in this heat, even in the evening, will be hellish.”

&&&&&

“Yes?” Tara asked. “Espionage?”

“Once upon a time,” Sykes answered, “ there was an English dish known as Fish and Chips.  By custom, it was served wrapped in old newspaper.  As modernization advanced, this custom was abandoned.  However, before then, one fine day during a war, a senior clerk in one of the English colonies went out, bought fish and chips from a stand, and discovered that the junior clerk delegated to destroy paper had instead been giving it to relatives to be reused as wrapping paper. After all, it was very clean paper, clean except for the extended notes on successful cryptographic attacks on enemy codes.”

BIG GAP HERE

Imperial Historical Research Center

Patricia Daystar walked briskly up the stairs to the Imperial Historical Research Center.  Supposedly, she thought, it was the largest library in the Galaxy.  Imperial citizens could order research materials remotely.   Anglic Union diplomats had to go physically to the library, their requests for materials being examined carefully before being granted.  That was the point of this interview, to confirm that she was a legitimate diplomat and that her requests for materials did not touch on restricted topics.  There were many restricted topics.

Her wrist comp pointed her in the needed directions.   She finally reached a door secured by two Jinjurian soldiers.  Army, she thought, from the dress uniforms. Jinjurians had run the Second Empire.  After their catastrophic, unexpected defeat by the Stellar Republic, their military consisted of a ceremonial Guard Division, for protecting buildings on Mogado.  The restriction to bolt action rifles, brilliant orange dress uniforms, and training focused on ceremonial marches somewhat limited their military effectiveness, thought the sight of a divisional march, a dozen soldiers wide, executing a flawless echelon turn, impressed anyone who’d tried to practice echelon turns with their own military unit.

She stopped, six feet out from the door, executed a proper right face, and carefully did not show her teeth.  “I’m here to see Library Inspector Trewlin,” she announced.  “My wristcomp says this is the right room.”

“You would be Patricia Daystar?”  the shorter of the two Jinjurs asked. He clanked from his accumulation of medals when he turned to face her. He held up his arm and wristcomp.

“I am indeed.” She held up her left arm.  Wristcomps talked to each other. She took the moment to take in the other soldier, who wore a single medal.  It was, however, a Star of Jinjur, of which very few had ever been awarded, period.  “I am also Anglic Union Seldon Legion.” She faced the other soldier, and slammed her right fist against her chest.  “I honor your bravery.”  He returned the salute.

“Pass,” the first soldier said. “Pass with honor.”

“Extra folks inside,” the second soldier whispered. 

She nodded and opened the door.  Indeed, there was a somewhat long table with three beings sitting behind it.  Sitting in the center was a Jinjurian in the teal and lime robes that identified him as a Library Inspector.  To his right was another Jinjurian, this one in flat black robes.  That had, she thought, to be a senior librarian, someone who generally did not concern himself with individual loan requests. The third fellow, thin, pointed jaw, silver-grey hair, wore the uniform of a Stellar Republic intelligence officer.  What was going on here?

She focused her gaze on the library inspector.  “I’m Patricia Daystar,” she announced. “I was told to appear here to meet with a Library Inspector, the Noble and Wise Jurnaman Trewlin.  Would that be you, Noble Sir?”  She kept walking forward, aiming at the armchair they had set out in front of the table, presumably for her.   It wasn’t at all clear why the other two were here, so she would let them speak for themselves.  Or tell her that she was somehow in the wrong room, though that seemed improbable.