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I’ve been to nine planets in twelve years and it’s starting to show. I scarcely notice the local honour guard lining the way from the shuttle to the reception party. Honour guard and prison guard, if things go badly.

This particular encounter is going to be an unpleasant one. I can see it in the stiffness of the President's back, in the glaring absence of superfluous flunkies.

My voice doesn't crack now. I'm no longer a child doing a statesman's job.

"Honoured sir, on behalf of the Galactic Council, I must inform you that according to the Accords of 5078, this star system is now under the authority of the planetary state of New Olid. You are subsequently required to submit cooperate with officials who will arrive shortly. Any disputes and appeals may be directed to the Council according to the Regulations as drawn up in 4756."

The President's face is getting redder and redder. His bodyguard's fingers are going white around his rifle, though he hasn't so much as twitched.

"If you would sign both copies of the relevant document," I say, withdrawing the paper documents from my jacket, "Matters can proceed without further incident."

He makes no move to take them. I sigh and step back into a less exposed position. My aide is sending a message to the waiting invasion force as we speak. Unfortunate that they're a few months behind us but another spell in a holding cell would give me a chance to catch up on my reading.

There are advantages to having a name that can start an intergalactic incident.

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