"We are a simple planet, Mr. Marshall," Lady Denebola invited herself into a chair opposite me. "We do not have much here on Azodii, but we can offer you comfort and our hospitality."

"Thank you very much, Lady Denebola," I said.

"And you came at just the right time! It is our founder's holiday tonight, the annual Feast of Gar-Mel."

"That sounds wonderful," I said. "Henry and I are very honored to be your guests."

"And what an honor it is for us!" she clapped and bounced in her chair, antlers scraping the ceiling, then turned to stare at Henry. "That the Slatt Empire would send none other than the famous Henry Todd as a representative!"

"Oh, please -" Henry waved his hand and looked down, feigning embarrassment and humility.

"Henry Todd of The Angry Gavel!" Denebola squeaked. "What a wonderful addition to our celebrations this year."

I should explain: The Angry Gavel was a courtroom news program that aired for two seasons on a local-access cable network, KWCC out of Inglewood. Filmed in a dilapidated studio by the airport, it was a mouthpiece for a few loud-mouthed legal minds, and the loudest one of all was an attorney named Henry Todd.

At the time, Henry worked for the third-best criminal defense firm in Los Angeles. Henry's firm also happened to be the main sponsor of the show. For Henry, The Angry Gavel was a side-gig that fed his vanity and let him blow off some steam. Henry was entertaining – he was fluent at spewing quasi-libertarian nonsense to shut down any valid argument that contradicted with his beliefs. He had a full repertoire of eye rolls, heavy sighs, sarcastic sneers, and a juicy wide-eyed look that he used when he pretended that something offended him. I think Henry thought of the gig as his audition tape for FOX.

Sadly, The Angry Gavel was barely watched. It went off the air when the network went bankrupt. That should have been the end of Henry's broadcasting career, but it turns out that episodes of The Angry Gavel were pirated and re-broadcast by the Planet Oxtaile, which is one of the forty-eight planets in the Slatt Empire.

Oxtaile is, essentially, an intergalactic bootlegging operation. The planet's position in the Umbrar Quadrant just happens to be in the right spot to allow it to receive radio waves from distant parts of the universe. Years ago, a few savvy Oxtaile businessmen covered the surface of the planet with large satellite-like receiver dishes to capture wavelength transmissions from other planets. The content that was "found" in these transmissions was re-broadcast to paid subscribers throughout the Slatt Territories and beyond, creating a lucrative business for the people of Oxtaile while violating thousands of copyright agreements throughout the known universe.

Thanks to Oxtaile, The Angry Gavel went into a kind of unexpected syndication. So now, Henry has adoring fans scattered throughout remote corners of space. And as much as I hate to admit it, without Henry's intergalactic fame we never would have established Marshall / Todd and Associates. It was these same re-broadcasts from Oxtaile that first put us on the radar of the Slatt High Council – but that's a whole other story that I won't get into.

"So, you've seen The Angry Gavel?" I asked Lady Denebola.

"Of course!" Lady Denebola said. "I pick up broadcasts off an Oxtaile relay satellite in the Zaprath Belt. My husband, Zerk, left me a Long-Range Videowave Receiver. We watch episodes of The Angry Gavel every week at the Palace!"

Henry looked at me and shrugged. "What can I say? Television opens up all kinds of new audiences."

"Do you have a television program, too, Mr. Marshall?" Lady Denebola asked.

The door opened a crack before I could answer, and an Azodii man with a mop of white hair stuck his head into the room.

"Excuse me, I don't want to interrupt –"

"Premier Oato!" Henry jumped to his feet again. "Please, come in!"

Oato stepped into the room, followed by a female Azodii soldier, who I recognized as the Major I last saw berating her troops after pulling me in from the cold.

"Marsh," Henry said, by way of introduction. "Please meet Premier Parksnip Oato, the Premier of Planet Azodii."

The Premier's face was friendly but battle-worn, with a scar running from cheek to chin under one of his eyes. He walked with the help of a short cane made of tight knotted wood; I noticed that part of one leg was missing, replaced by a prosthetic that might have been made from the same wood as the cane.

"Mr. Marshall! We have heard so much about you," Oato said with smile. "Welcome to Azodii. I hope you've had a chance to warm up a little?"

"Yes, thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, Premier Oato," I said.

"Ah, and I see you've already met Lady Azodii-Denebola!" Oato and Denebola shared a polite nod. "Allow me to also introduce Major Salient Kale, of the Azodii Militia."

"I think I owe you a debt of gratitude for picking me up out of that snow bank, Major," I said. "And for getting me safely inside."

Major Kale stared forward, at attention, and didn't glance toward me when she spoke. "We could have been faster. I'm glad you have no permanent damage, Mr. Marshall."

"Unfortunately, wormhole portals are prohibited within the Palace grounds. It's a security measure," Parksnip Oato explained. "If we allow portals to manifest inside, we run the risk of infiltration by agents of Bob."

At the mention of the neighboring planet, all three of the Azodii made a rocking gesture using both of their six-fingered hands. It was over quickly and Premier Oato went on speaking, but the meaning wasn't lost on me.

"You see, the frozen surface of Azodii allows an extra level of protection for us," Oato continued. "The ice-storm is a natural moat for our Palace. Can I get you any more Tchugg? It's a special batch, for the holidays."

"No, I have some. Thank you, Premier Oato," I said. "It's delicious."

Henry smiled knowingly at me and raised his eyebrows. He mumbled something under his breath, a word that I didn't understand until he repeated it a third time:

"Foil, the foil, Marsh?" Henry whispered loudly to me.

"Oh! Yes, Premier Oato. I brought a gift for you, from our home planet, Earth." Henry plopped my damp briefcase onto the gurney next to me, I took out the roll of Reynolds Wrap that I grabbed from my kitchen. Some of the roll was already used, the metal teeth were exposed inside the cardboard; I hoped that presenting Premier Oato with an open gift wouldn't be considered tacky.

I held out the roll to Premier Oato - he took it gently, almost reverently, from my hands. "Oh my," he lowered his nose to the box and inhaled. "Aluminium?" He pronounced it the European way, with five syllables instead of four.

"Um, yes. I hope you like it?"

Premier Oato said nothing. Instead, he handed the roll of foil to Major Kale as if it were a holy relic. "This is most generous. We have much use for this metal. Thank you, Mr. Marshall, and please thank the people of Earth on our behalf."

"I sure will," I said.