“Very well,” I say, and turn to the councilwoman. “May I?”

She looks vaguely irritated as I try to push through the crowded dock past her, but acquiesces as she catches a glimpse of the tattoo on my forearm. Her eyes go wide, and dart from the mark to my face.

“As you wish,” she says, and I’m surprised to see respect rather than fear on her face as she lets me shuffle past. Scorpia waggles her eyebrows at me as she scoots by to take my place, though it’s easy to see the nerves beneath the veil of humor.

“Good luck,” I murmur, and take my place on the edge of the dock just in time for the Gaian ship’s ramp to open.

At least, logic says it’s a ramp, but it’s impossible not to imagine it as the gaping jaws of some great beast falling open. The revealed interior of the ship is black and damp in appearance, and the air that rolls out of the opening is warm and humid. The councilwoman beside me presses the sleeve of her robe to her face as if loath to breathe it in. The gathered Nibirans are silent as the Gaian officials emerge, their shoes leaving behind faint imprints in the spongy material of the ramp.

President Leonis is at the head of the procession. Behind her stands a broad-shouldered, dark-skinned man I recognize as her husband. They’re flanked by a variety of other politicians and officials I’m not well-informed enough to recognize, along with a small handful of uniformed guards who must be the president’s personal security team. Each is dressed in starched, hooded Gaian formal wear and long gloves, so very different from loose Nibiran clothing. As both feet touch down on the dock, Leonis pauses and takes her first deep breath of Nibiran air. There’s an uncomfortable pause as neither side appears eager to close the gap between the two peoples.

Iri Oshiro, the young council member who participated in the Interplanetary Council, is the first to step forward. They cross both arms over their chest in a smooth, practiced rendition of the traditional Gaian greeting. Leonis returns the gesture, and then transitions into a respectful Nibiran bow. The ice in the air melts at that, and soon there are bows and crossed arms being exchanged on both sides. Some are clearly more comfortable with the foreign gestures than others, and a minor few refuse to display anything other than their own planet’s greetings. Still, the Gaians come forward to meet their new allies, and soon the two groups are thoroughly intermingled.