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Gellhaus vase,” Carr said, motioning toward a beautiful ceramic container located near the bar.
    “Frank, Frank, my good friend. You know that piece has been in my family for three-hundred fifty years. It was made on Earth, before the Diaspora of Humankind! I just couldn’t part with it, at least not for the price you’ve offered in the past. Now, if you want to increase your offer, I might possibly be willing to put family history aside.”
    Carr leaned back in his seat. “Oh well, I tried.”
    Hessler said his goodbyes and moved on to another set of patrons.
    “So, you’re interested in stuff like that? Antiques. Do you collect?” asked Sanchez, anxious to change the subject away from her OMI experience, or lack thereof.
    “I dabble.”
    “So you must enjoy art and history,” she said.
    “No, my clients enjoy art and history, and I enjoy making money. Recently, however, I’ve had to sell off some of my collection,” Carr sipped his bourbon and motioned toward the Gellhaus vase. “That old thief wants way too much for that piece. Every time I’m in here, that vase has been in his family twenty more years than the last time. Also, I’m sure it was probably produced on Tezrina, maybe about eighty years ago. It sure as hell wasn’t produced on Earth.”
    Sanchez got an excited look on her face at the mention of the original Blue Planet.
    “Speaking of Earth, just think of it, Carr. In a little over a standard month from now, you and I will actually be standing on planet Earth.”
    Carr started to respond, but decided to change the subject. “Well… You’ll take the datatabs back to James, won’t you? I’m heading back to Boutwell. Meet you aboard the Arisugawa Starport day after tomorrow at zero nine-hundred hours.”
    Sanchez looked stunned. “Wait, we haven’t even begun to go over possible landing sites. What about the sensor protocols? You can’t leave yet, there’s too much work to do,” she protested.
    “I’m sure you and James will plot out an excellent program. The first rule of good intelligence work is division of labor,” he said, rising to put on his jacket. “But given our rather tight timetable, there are certain people back home I must visit and arrangements I have to make if I’m to be offworld for months. See you in two days on Arisugawa.” He turned his back on her and fled out the front door.
    Sanchez sat alone in the booth fuming at her new so-called teammate’s unprofessional behavior. She had anticipated some resistance to working with a newly minted operative, but his general behavior was so… irresponsible. This man was supposed to be some hotshot agent and it was like dealing with an adolescent boy. The nerve of him!
    Her indignation was interrupted by a voice. “Lieutenant Commander Sanchez?” asked the stranger standing beside the table. “May I have a moment of your time? My name is Mumphrey.”

2: Clash
    Union heavy cruiser Tempest
    Hyperspace
    “Mr. Knox, this could be a turning point in the battle and we’re only going to get one shot at this,” said Captain Charles “Chaz” Pettigrew as he examined the tactical situation.
    His executive office, Commander Parker Knox, felt the weight of his captain’s eyes upon him. Pettigrew was right—a false step here could be disastrous. “What do you think, Captain?” he asked viewing the field of combat.
    “Your call, Commander,” Pettigrew answered in a measured tone, attempting to hide his own tension.
    Knox reached out to grasp his silver elephant, moving it to an adjacent empty square and pulling the gold horse forward. Making his remaining three steps, the young executive officer sat back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. His look of satisfaction was fleeting however, as he noticed the smug expressions on the faces of Commander Uschi Mullenhoff and Lieutenant Peng Huang. Pettigrew had remained composed, but Knox knew he had somehow messed up. Reexamining the game board, he quickly