"The end of the gunfire is the beginning of the hardest part." - Former Grand Most High Sma'akamo'o, from I Have Ridden the Hasslehoff

Dreams of Something More leaned against the lectern and stared at the massive Senate chamber. There were over a thousand seats in comfortable little booths that held space for aides, scribes, runners, even bodyguards, each seat representing the interests of a body of the Unified Council Systems. From corporations to planets to stellar system districts to governmental bodies.

When the unconditional surrender of the Unified Council had been officially signed and sealed, every seat had been filled, there had even been beings on the sidelines watching nervously. In the weeks following, the anxiety had been a physical thing to Dreams and her psychic senses.

Now, less than a third of the seats were filled. Those that were filled weren't paying attention to what was going on and it appeared to Dreams that those who were present were involved in their own discussions and plans.

She knew they weren't paying attention because she had ceased speaking nearly ten minutes prior and everyone was still involved in their own activities.

"I don't think they're paying attention to you, oh Madame Diplomat, thou burning bush of the Terran Confederacy's political will," Words Spoken We Fear said from beside her. The black mantid was examining his holodeck, his palm of his left hand upturned so that the holoprojector implanted in his palm could be used to do computer operations.

"Oh, shut up," Dreams snapped. The other mantid was getting on her nerves. "What is so fascinating to them all that they'll just ignore discussions on ensuring that the planets effected by the shipping problems are properly supplied?"

Words tapped at two of the holographic icons and looked up. "Want to know? I've tapped into the discussion between a few of the representatives."

"I should say no," Dreams said, petting Mr. Rings, who had gotten bored with the council chamber and had begun to doze. His rings were dark blue and his tentacles curled up.

"Yes, but aren't you curious?" Words asked.

Dreams frowned. She'd worked with Words for a long time and knew when he was up to something.

She waited a moment and sighed. "All right."

There was a slight clink and her datalink scooped the data Words was tossing to her. She immediately heard the conversation, the one speaking and the three listening were all highlighted on her retinal link.

"...your problem. You are gathering all of your high level workers into single groups. Your other problem is you leave them all as general skills and do not have them specialize," the Lanaktallan Grand Most High of the Tressar System Cluster was telling the others.

"A grouping of high level workers is 19% more efficent and finishes their work nearly 22% faster than any other group," the Grand Most High of the Yklerk Nebula System District protested.

The Tressar Cluster representative nodded. "While that is true, if you move workers once they reach level four to heading up a team of mixed lower levels, the lower levels get one half of the bonuses of their team leader to their related skills as a leadership bonus. Leadership bonuses stack with all other bonuses without diminishing returns."

"But specialization means that the worker that is specialized is only good for one task. I have determined that the optimum repair and maintenance team size is five beings. A leader and four general maintenance workers," the Great Grand Super Most High of the Shining Brightly Stars System Conglomerate protested.

The Tressar System representative shook his head. "For your best work, you do not assign them to permanent teams once they specialize. Each team should have a pool of specialists they can summon if the task proves too difficult for their skills, or the specialists should be deployed if the problem is known to require their skills. Planetary maintenance requires quick responses and a fluidity of thought that is subtle in its requirement but nonetheless a hard requirement."

The others all hmmmed and nodded, all of them looking at the holoscreens projected in front of them that were angled in such a way that Dreams couldn't see what any of them were looking at, although she had the suggestion that it was all roughly the same thing.

Dreams looked down at Words and frowned. "Why are they so involved in planetary maintenance? They're planetary and system representatives, not planetary maintenance engineers."

Words shrugged. "I'm not sure. They're all looking over planetary maintenance system programs. The Lanaktallan are really good at automation, like we Mantids are, so as near as I can tell, they're micromanaging their planetary maintenance system from here."

"Weird," Dreams mused. She looked up at the Viirtrigat Quasar Cluster rep's seat and saw it was empty. She checked the front desk and saw that the rep had not shown up for work today either.

"I need to see Great Most High Pla'ayrmo'o. He was supposed to be here six days ago, and he's in charge of the last of the Unified Military Council systems," Dreams said. She dug into her satchel and pulled out a small macroplas statue.

"I'll alert security. I take it we're going to his estate to see him?" Words said.

Dreams nodded. "I'm tired of him ducking me," she said. She set the statue on the lectern and tapped the back of its head with the tip of one bladearm. The head started nodding back and forth rapidly and she climbed down from the lectern.

Words glanced at the statue of Dreams of Something More nodding vigorously on the podium and held back a snicker as he followed Dreams out of the Senate Chamber.

--------

Dreams looked at the Tukna'rn infantry with her and then looked at the estate. There was a hoverlimo parked sideways across the driveway, the door still open. The lawn was unmowed and unkempt, leaves blowing across the trotting grass.

"It looks abandoned," Dreams said.

"Weird," Words answered. "The system says he is at home. He was at a party four days ago and left early and hasn't been since. Heavy GalNet and SolNet traffic," Words checked his holoemitter again. "Wow, he's pulling down a lot of bandwidth. Looks like he's got twenty two or twenty-three peer to peer connections all running high enough bandwidth for full eVR hookup."

"Has Planetary Security checked on him?" Dreams asked. She felt a trickle of nervousness. While the forces that Pla'ayrmo'o were laughably outclassed by the small task force in his systems, the fighting would leave the Confederate Occupational Forces outnumbered and forced to slog through wave after wave of Lanaktallan military forces. "Have they at least checked to see if he's alive?"

Words tapped a few icons and nodded. "Yes. They did a wellness check on him this morning and reported he was present, not under duress, but extremely busy with, and I quote: 'highly delicate political negotiations that held the fate of entire governments in the balance.'"

Dreams nodded. "Once he proves the Unified Military Council is indeed standing down, we'll be moving shipping into his systems in order to make sure everyone gets food and necessary goods, as well as upgrading their infrastructure."

Dreams pressed the button again, for the fifth time. She waited a few seconds, then pressed and held the button down, ignoring the grating buzz.

Finally a voice answered. A female.

"Please stop doing that, it makes a horrible noise," the voice said.

"Terran Diplomatic Corps. Is Senator Pla'ayrmo'o in residence?" Dreams asked.

"Yes, but he has left notice that he is not to be disturbed at this time. Please come back later," the female said.

"Welkret," Words said softly. "Probably a servant."

"I am Dreams of Something More, Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems plenipotentiary, and I demand access to the Senator immediately under the clauses of the Unified Council's unconditional surrender document. Admit me or I will summon Planetary Security," Dreams snapped, her temper fraying.

There was a buzz at the gate. The lead Tukna'rn pushed the gate open and motioned for the others, his weapon at ready and his shoulder mounted guns tracking across the lawn and searching the sky.

Dreams pretended she didn't notice the Mosizlak unsnapping the restraining strap to his magac pistol and the light going from red to green just above the pistol grip.

The diplomatic team moved slowly across the lawn. As they passed the limo they could hear the faint chime from the limo's systems warning that the door was open and the battery was running low. Dreams peeked in and saw that leaves had blown into the expensive interior, there was a wine glass on the floor, and an open bottle of wine sitting abandoned.

"I don't like this," Dreams said softly.

"Me either," Words said. He checked his concealed magac pistol and glanced at 117, who flashed a couple of nervous emojis and an icon warning of a possible ambush.

When they reached the door a small Welkret answered, bowing respectively. With a motion she led the diplomatic team into the manor, winding through the hallways. Dreams noticed that what few servants were there were merely supervising robots as they did cleaning tasks.

"Stranger and stranger," Dreams said.

Words just nodded.

"He is in here. I implore you, Madame Diplomat, to not disturb him. When I brought him sustenance an hour ago he was involved in delicate political negotiation with the Clownface Nebula Warsteel Alliance over shipping lane disagreements," the Welkret said softly. She touched the double door with the seal of the Senate on it.

Dreams frowned. The Warsteel Alliance had been crushed during the Fifth Battle of Coriana VI toward the Second Phase of the Clownface Nebula Conflict.

"Maybe he's crazy?" Words suggested.

Dreams nodded and motioned at the Tukna'rn to push open the door. The Mosizlak put his hand on his pistol as the door slowly opened. The Welkret servant squeaked and ran away, vanishing into the dimly lit halls.

The room beyond was mostly dark. Computer equipment had been stacked everywhere, cables running all over the place, in some places tacked to the walls in the loops, hanging down from the ceiling, and winding all over the floor.

In the middle of the room, standing on a fully responsive graviton assisted eVR platform, Senator Pla'ayrmo'o was waving his upper two arms, his lower two hands on his hips as he spoke.

"You spurn my generous offer, Grand High Marshall Ho'omu'unLeed'are? My ships and my men are ready and willing to burn down your pathetic star nation in the name of the Lanaktallan Confederacy of Aligned Beings!" Pla'ayrmo'o shouted.

Dreams moved forward slowly, watching the yelling Lanaktallan carefully. 117 scurried over to one of the datacables and touched it with a listening probe, leaning forward and concentrating.

"Your battlecruisers are made of macroplas and failure, Ni'inKo'awmo'op! Mine are made with warsteel and the burning hate of lemur warforge masters! Retreat from my borders at once or face the unending wrath of the Lanaktallan Confederacy and my legions of Telkan Marines and Lemur Infantry!" Pla'ayrmo'o shouted.

Dreams saw the IR beam and carefully crossed it, nervous that some kind of gun system would be deployed. The Senator looked positively crazed, almost frothing at the mouth. The Tukna'rn infantry were scanning everywhere, looking for weapons.

There was a beep that even Dreams could hear from the headset.

Pla'ayrmo'o jerked slightly. "Uh, hold on, guys. Someone's here. I need to go Aye-Eff-Kay for a few minutes," the Senator said.

He peeled off the eVR headset and turned to look.

Dreams got close enough to smell the Lanaktallan and almost drew back. He reeked of unwashed hide, body odor, old fast food (the containers were scattered everywhere she noticed), and stale energy drinks.

"Oh, um, Madame Diplomat, how good to see you," Pla'ayrmo'o obviously lied. He lifted the headset up. "Let the AI run my turn, I might a little while, guys," he mumbled quickly. "Do what to I um this meeting I uh owe um, good to see you, Madame Diplomat!"

Dreams noticed he reached over and hit an icon that put the screens around him to sleep. One in particular caught her attention.

A gold mantid, in a leather jacket with spikes, wearing a beret and carrying a switchblade and donorcycle chain, was in the middle of the screen.

"Was that... me?" Dreams asked.

"What? No! What makes you think that? I'm sure you were just seeing things! May I refreshments offer to you? Mantids like grapes, right? Or is it pickles? Um... Pizza?" Pla'ayrmo'o said, grabbing a grease stained box and holding it out. Dreams could see the perspiration starting to soak away the salt from old sweat on his hide.

"It was!" Dreams said. She pointed at the screen. "117!"

The little green mantid held out a command wand and touched a button. The screen came on and Dreams stared at the hologram.

It was her! Right down to exoskeleton chitin tattoo she had in Animeland runes! She was moving idly, cleaning her antenna or petting Mr. Rings, who was accurate right down to the double-ring on his third tentacle tip.

Below her was a menu full of options. Next to her head was a set of context menus.

AGGRESSIVE STANCE - PEACEBELLIGERENT STANCE - TRADEDIPLOMATIC STANCE - BORDER CONTROL

"Why am I on that screen?" Dreams asked.

"Uh, no reason," Pla'ayrmo'o said. He reached out and turned it off again.

117 pinged and Dreams looked down at him. There was a quick burst of equations and a handful of emojis. Dreams looked at Words. "What did he say?"

Words was staring, his antenna straight up.

"What did he say? What is going on?" Dreams asked.

Words suddenly burst out laughing, the same with the Mosizlak.

"What is so funny?" Dreams demanded.

Words turned his palm up, the holoemitter sparkling. "It's you, Madame Diplomat, it's totally you," he laughed.

There was an advertisement playing on Words's hologram. It was showing cities, continents, nations, solar systems, then stellar maps of stellar empires and kingdoms. Then lines for trade, huge ships moving through the void, planetary landings of warbots. Senatorial chambers packed with beings, a trade treaty being signed with a flourish, a declaration of war being signed.

Her image appeared.

"I am Dreams of Something More. Heed my words, for they are backed with insane lemurs and ice cream!" her voice said. "Retain my services and rise to victory or face me and see your diplomatic efforts destroyed before your eyes!"

The image of her gestured with her bladearms and atomic explosions erupted on either side of her. Over the explosions were words.

INTERSTELLAR CIVILIZATION VIIDCCWARSTEEL EDITION was on her left.

DREAMS OF SOMETHING MOREDLC NOW AVAILABLE! was on her right.

Across the bottom read: 148 NEW ACHIEVEMENTS! GAMERTAG BLING! SASH ICONS! ORDER NOW AND GET ACCESS TO THE MOSIZLAK DIPLOMATIC UNIT!

"Woe unto those who seek to deny me!" the digital Dreams said, motioning.

Images of a tall thin Terran all in black, with a cape and possessing burning red eyes, appeared.

INCLUDES NIGHT TERRAN PUNITIVE SYSTEM ACCESS AT NO COST! BUY NOW WHILE THE DLC PACKAGE IS STILL AVAILABLE! appeared.

Dreams stared for a long moment, then looked at Pla'ayrmo'o, who was shuffling nervously, the three hundred year old Senator looking like a child who had been caught stealing cookies.

It was wholly undiplomatic. Completely against all the rules of statecraft to utter such a thing, but it popped out of her mouth.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

-------------

Dreams of Something More threw herself into the seat, muttering to herself, petting Mr. Rings, who looked around with wide eyes and wondering if there was anything good to eat under the cushions.

"How can they do that? How can they just sell my image like that?" Dreams asked. She let Mr. Rings climb up to swing back and forth on the bars installed inside the limo just for that purpose.

"Technically, you're a public personage, less a living person on your own and more a direct object of the Confederate Diplomatic Corps," Words said, shaking his head.

"But, it's me! It's... it's me!" Dreams protested. She stared at Words. "Find out who this Da'armo'o the Magician is," she snapped. She huffed and crossed her arms and bladearms.

"I take it you want him or her to stop using your image?" Words asked.

"Or at least pay me for it," Dreams grumped.