I had no idea three days ago that I would be picking up a replacement for Attalla when I contacted his home world. After I reported the death of Attalla and detailed all I knew of the incident, my government contact told me to report immediately to pick up a ‘replacement Ambassador.’ That is how they had phrased it ‘replacement Ambassador,’ as if Attalla could be replaced like a faulty part on a hyper drive. It irritated me – no, it made me downright angry, but I had a contract and I wasn’t about to acquire any bad credits for not following through on my mission.
Here it was three days later and I was at the rendezvous point as instructed.
“Permission to come aboard?” a familiar voice asked.
“Sam?” I asked.
“The pod is off our port bow,” Sam confirmed.
“Permission granted,” I replied as I mentally scratched me head. “I’m coming down, Sam.”
I reached the bay just as the new Ambassador’s pod pulled in. The engines shut down. I waited for the Ambassador to immerge.
My brain had just enough time to register that it was Attalla that had immerged from the pod before I did a most annoying female thing, I fainted dead away.