The officer’s eyes widen as she makes the connection. She stares at Shey, some of the color draining from her face, and I resist the urge to grin.

“I’d hate to tell the president her daughter was turned away because of a transmission error on your end, Miss…” I reach forward, flicking her name tag. “Miss Ahlu. Wouldn’t you?”

She turns quickly to her computer, hands flying across the keyboard, face going whiter still as she no doubt verifies Shey’s identity.

“My mistake, of course. I’m so sorry, Ambassador Leonis, ma’am. Let me just—May I have twenty minutes to work something up for you, please?”

“Of course,” Shey says with a pleasant-but-strained smile, one I’m sure she doesn’t have to work too hard to fake. “Though I do have an appointment with the council to make, unless that transmission failed to arrive as well?”

“Yeah, time is of the essence,” I say, with a meaningful glance at Shey. She only frowns at me, so I lean closer and whisper, “Give her some credits.” She raises her eyebrows. “It’s normal here,” I add.

Still frowning, Shey taps at the slim device wrapped around her wrist and extends it toward the woman. The clerk holds out her own comm, silently accepting the bribe, and smiles at us.

“I will contact them immediately,” she says, her fingers already moving rapidly across her keyboard. “Five minutes.”

True to her word, the woman has us out of the customs office and stepping onto the grassy island five minutes later. We’re docked on Vil Hava, the largest of Nibiru’s seven human-made isles, and the seat of the council. Standing on its surface, it’s hard to tell the difference between this constructed island and the natural land on other planets. The buildings here are rounded, shaped like either broad domes or tall cylinders, all standing on stilts or platforms. The buildings are rife with stained plexiglass windows and other colorful decorations.

But the permanent structures are all government offices and other official buildings. The common people of Nibiru favor a more nomadic life, especially after issues with islands flooding in the past. The streets are lined with tents and pop-up stalls selling anything from food to medicine to clothing, and most people prefer to live in floating houseboats docked at the edges of the island rather than on its surface.

On the island, life carries on as normal. It’s midday, and the merchants’ booths are busy. Sunburned fisherfolk shout out about their catches of the day, holding up huge, glistening fish with gaping mouths. A storyteller sits with a drum in his lap, weaving a tale of distant planet Earth for a crowd of fascinated children. The air is full of scents fried and sweet, the weather sunny and gorgeous.