I watch her go, tapping my fingers against my leg and trying to pretend my pulse isn’t rising with every passing second. After a moment, I sigh, shove my hands into my pockets, and lean against the side of the building next to Drom. Around us, life on Nibiru carries on as normal. The crowds pass us without a second glance, more interested in the nearby sweet stands and passing boats than the small collection of off-worlders waiting outside the Council Hall.

At least thirty minutes pass, at which point I’m getting seriously antsy thinking of all the ways the plan could have gone astray. Maybe Shey can’t arrange a council meeting after all, or they’ll refuse to see her for six months. The council is notoriously slow and fussy. Or maybe they’ll call her bluff about being an ambassador in the first place. Is impersonating an ambassador a crime? Probably. Guess that’s a new one to add to the list after today.

But Shey finally emerges from the building looking triumphant.

“They cleared their schedule for the next few hours. They’ll see us now,” she says, gesturing for me to join her. “Councillors Heikki and Oshiro have just arrived from Deva. The timing is perfect.”

“Knew you could get us in.”

“I merely emphasized that it was a matter of national security. And gave the clerk some credits to speed the process along.”

My eyebrows rise, and I break into a delighted grin.

“Wow, look at you,” I say. “I’ll make a criminal of you yet.”

Shey blinks at me.

“You said bribes were normal here,” she says, forehead pinched in confusion.

“Well, yeah. Still technically illegal, though.” I nudge her with a shoulder. “Which still makes you technically a criminal.”

Shey’s face blanches.

“You could have specified that!” she sputters, looking utterly mortified, as I laugh my way past her and into the building. The rest of my siblings follow.

The lobby is a small, simple room. Wide windows ring the walls near the ceiling, flooding it with light. The furniture is sparse, lending the building a quietly refined look without any of the extravagance so commonly found on places like Gaia and Deva.

The clerk, a curvy young woman with tattoos around her wrists, waits in the center of the room. She goes wide-eyed at the sight of us. I fake a cough to hide my grin, imagining what we must look like through her eyes, when she’s so used to dealing with politicians all day. Even cleaned up and dressed in our Nibiran getup, we’re still an odd collection. She looks especially nervous at the sight of Corvus, with his scarred face and hard eyes, though at least his long sleeves hide his war-brand.

“Are… all of you going in?” She glances at Shey for confirmation, her eyes practically pleading for her to say no.