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the report displayed on his primary screen. At first, it seemed mundane. A subject race, the Voldar’ik, were complaining about a shipload of strangers who departed without paying their port fees, and were requesting the sub-sector master levy a judgment against the offending traders’ planet.
    Ssor-Fel flexed his mobile ears and wondered why such a minor report would wind up on his docket. Economic disputes between subject species were no concern of his. However, as he scanned the dot-and-swirl script on the screen, he quickly discovered something to pique his curiosity.
    He reached out and signaled for his assistant.
    The door to the office retracted and the assistant entered. Dal-Vas was a young male with a strong work ethic. One day he would be an excellent administrator. He might even aspire to Ssor-Fel’s position. Would that there were more like him!
    “This report of the economic dispute between the Voldar’ik and these… Vulcans,” he said, pronouncing the unfamiliar word carefully. “Have you studied it?”
    “Yes, Sector Master.”
    “Enlighten me.”
    “As it says, a trading vessel made orbit at Klys’kra’t and offered to exchange value. The beings aboard identified their home world as Shangri-La, some 12 jumps beyond Vith. They were on an extended trading voyage. They had a cargo of Vithian goods. Power units, production machinery, some delicacies for the luxury market.
    “These Vulcan traders provided their hosts with samples of their wares and the haggling began. Then, with no explanation, the traders departed without paying their port fees. The Voldar’ik confiscated the luggage and samples left behind and filed a claim with Packmaster Daz-Ven on Nesantor.”
    “Why is this important?”
    “Because Daz-Ven could not locate the Vulcans in his Database of Civilization. Per regulation, he forwarded the Voldar’ik request to us.”
    “Such searches often fail,” the Sector Master replied. “No matter how much we try to standardize species identification, subservients often deviate from proper form. Perhaps “Vulcan” is the name of the most prominent tribe or clan on their world.”
    “That is what the Packmaster thought. He requested full records, including biometric recordings. When he received them, he searched for the Vulcan genotype. Again, they could not be positively identified.”
    “Do you suppose Daz-Ven has been lax with his database updates?”
    “Anything is possible on these third-tier worlds,” Dal-Vas replied. “However, our database was updated less than a thousand periods ago, and I could not identify these Vulcans either.”
    That was the detail that had caught the Sector Master’s attention. A sub-sector headquarters database might well be cycles out of date. Civilization was so large and complex that it was easy to fall behind. But a sector capital had a massive staff dedicated to keeping the computers as up-to-date as possible. It was virtually impossible that the Vulcan genotype was missing from Ssor-Fel’s record, yet that seemed to be the case.
    “What do these beings look like?”
    “They are bipeds with orange skin and a thatch of blue fur on their craniums. They have five digits on their hands and are otherwise unremarkable. The arrangement of their internal organs is more or less the same as ours. They obviously evolved on a homelike world circling a yellow star, breathe oxygen, and may once have been tree dwellers.”
    “Yet, we cannot identify them?”
    “No, Sector Master. There is something else, news that I just received from Daz-Ven. I was preparing a written report when you summoned me.”
    “Enlighten me.”
    “Along with biometric data, the Voldar’ik forwarded some of the Vulcan commercial samples to Daz-Ven. They thought he might be able to obtain traces of Vulcan organic secretions from their surfaces, the better to aid in identification. He found secretions, all right, but not from these mysterious traders.”
    “Who then?”
    “One