The Chronicles Of a Galactic Diplomat

Chapter One - Planet Padoor

“ ‘Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space!’ Or so they say.” So bellowed my designated chauffeur, Danish, over the roar of the TerraRover engine in the whipping, hot wind of Padoor.

I looked over at the leathered, middle-aged man as he spoke, his hands gripping the wheel and his permanently squinting eyes gazing out over the wide expanse of fruitless desert. Two hundred and fifty years his species had been here; and two hundred and fifty years they had been toiling at their mission to fully terraform this virtual wasteland.

“It’s pretty much the same out here - a wonky compass or an empty fuel tank and you might as well be floating in space!”, he continued.

I swallowed hard and tugged at the scarf that had once been so artfully wrapped around my smooth, vulnerable head. At this moment, it was almost difficult to believe how eager I was to start my first commission as an Ambassador. Now that I had arrived here on this human-populated, desert planet, I questioned my sanity.

Danish must have read my anxiety.

“I, of course, wouldn’t let any of those things happen to you, Ambassador Peaceable! You’re in good hands! I’ve been driving these shifting sand “roads” all my life. Just another Sunday drive to me!”, he assured with a casual smile that appeared exceptionally white when contrasted with his skin.

“I’m relieved to hear that!”, I said in my most appropriate, human dialect.

I was proud of my ability to speak multiple, human dialects naturally without the need for a translation device. As a Sellissian diplomat, it was my job to learn all the languages I might encounter if possible. Sellisians communicate by use of electrical pulses and vocal vibrations that are formed by the mouth and tongue. We do our best to inhibit our electrical pulsing when speaking to humankind as it can, at times, disturb them… Or make them incontinent.

Danish changed the subject.

“You know, this is only my second time meeting a Sellisian! And a LADY Sellisian at that! You gals are actually quite pretty, if you like the tall type…that is.” He swallowed the last words in obvious shame. “I’m sorry, Ambassador, that was inappropriate! Our ability to be politically correct tends to erode out here at the solar posts. I’ll work on it.”

“I appreciate your concern.” I responded, “But please, don’t worry about it.”

Danish was clearly unused to formalities, but he was certainly not a rude man. In fact, I was really beginning to like my unpretentious driver.

“I think what I'm trying to say,” he continued, back peddling, “is that I'm always honored to meet a Sellissian! Your people helped us out a lot after that hydroponic disaster we had. I know most folks don’t take too kindly to Sellissians since they voted against our buying Padoor, but I think you all redeemed yourself throughout the years!” He chuckled with a shake of his head and continued: “We humans! We never forget anything, do we?! A long memory and a short lifespan!”

He wasn’t wrong about the Sellissians discouraging the sale of Padoor. My own father spoke out about it, among many others in the intergalactic senate. He stated that the sale of Padoor to human terraformers was both “deceitful and immoral”. Unfortunately, it was early in his career, and at the tender age of one hundred and two rotations, his political voice was discredited by his opponents.

Once acquired by humans, Padoor seemed to always be one industrial mishap away from complete agricultural ruin and civil war. Many disillusioned pioneers returned to Mars or their recently stabilized mother planet, Earth. But for those determined to settle the wild planet - or those who couldn’t afford intergalactic migration - they made terraforming Padoor a matter of pride and personal identity. From then on, those born in Padoor didn’t leave Padoor. Many nations in the galaxy thought they were either stupid or insane, but I couldn’t help but feel intrigued by these small individuals with big dreams and the grit to match.

“Nearly there! Look!” Danish pointed ahead as we rounded a hill. Stretched out before us was a great expanse of what seemed like rippling, liquid silver. At first, my mind told me we were approaching an ocean, but I knew better - this is Padoor - there is no ocean. I gripped the roll bar, unfurling my body as I pulled myself up to get a better view from over the windshield. The silver sea - of what I discerned to be solar panels - was split only by a thin strip of red dirt that led to a collection of hazy structures.

“Welcome to Alhara!” proclaimed Danish proudly.