Pestilence finished the “paperwork” on his wrist computer, and then looked up at Scribe surprised at the request, or the fact that Scribe was asking in front of UtR members about spreading Iron Republic agents across the Goblin Lands. His eyes went a little wide in surprise, he coughed a few times (rocketing a giant piece of bleeding lung covered in pus into his formerly white hankerchief).
He glanced around a few times at the assembled folks in the bar, not sure what to say to such a covert topic discussed so openly in public.
"Errr, no Scribe, I didn’t think you had other Temporal Agents to place?
My last report showed you and a team just being returned from the Mortis Leonin capture mission.
And we didn’t assign any other agents because this is the present, and we moniter the past. The Iron Republic Starfleet moniters the present.
But now that the temporal flux caused by Mortis Leonin has been mostly cleaned up, I will leave a few monitering devices around town.
However you do bring up a good point about monitering the area. I will have a full IR diplomatic team along with Brethren Epsilons sent here to assist your administration for tracking down any other flux points in the area…"
Pestilence paused, “I will be taking this though.”
Faster than Mawen had ever seen any living human move, Pestilence had already taken the body from his sword.
When Mawen was about to assert his rights as a Gor’ab he noticed the look on Scribe’s face. Mawen had served as Gor’ab long enough to know that local lords would claim prizes from captured criminals. In a way Mawen was happy the IR person didn’t know about the severed hand he had in his pack. It was still his proof to bring back to his peoples of his success against the K’ias Jah’kal.
Seeing this progress with Governor Scribe’s approval, Mawen held his tongue. He was Gor’ab after all and not Uhryu or Mag’Ol, it was not his place to cause Diplomatic problems and he knew it. Though part of him wished his Mag’Ol was here to argue on his behalf with Governor Scribe, leader to leader, about the cultural significance of it all.
Scribe and the rest watched Pestilence pack up his stuff, and leave the bar. Once Pestilence was outside, the rest of those who were at the bar breathed a sigh of relief.
Lurtor and Mawen returned to the UtR. The others returned to their homes.
Scribe found himself once more in Deryyanheim. Governor of a Provisional Colony, with an Iron Republic Diplomatic envoy on the way. Knowing Scribe had to involve the EEF in any negotiations between Deryyanheim and the Iron Republic, and knowing Lurtor would probably report him to the higher ups in the UtR and EEF as an Iron Republic Temporal Assassin, Scribe prepared for the uncomfortable call to Field Marshall Strykker.
Just as Scribe was about to activate his commcrystal back to the Earther government in Chooru, one of his Cloud Slaver citizens rushed into the bar.
Squealing and upset, the Cloud Slaver finally translated his needs to Scribe. And Scribe was shocked and amazed.
While he had been gone, the Quall Hive of the Kefeda Queen Kedorox had taken over some land in his territory. His citizens had tracked the Quall back to a hidden base formed from a crashed meteorite. They seemed to be growing in numbers, and had a full army of Red furs infiltrating his nationstate.
So much to do for such a tiny Governor.