(One of the most remarkable things noted by our contact team, when we first encountered demmies, was how much they had already achieved without benefit of higher mathematics. Using clever, hand-made rockets, their reckless astronauts had already reached their nearest moon. And yet, like some primitive early human tribes, they still had no word for any number higher than three! Oh, today some of the finest mathematical minds in the universe are from Dem. And yet, they cling – by almost-superstitious tradition – to a convention in daily conversation… that any number higher than three is – “many”.)

There followed a hum and a rattling wheeze, then a panel hissed open and several impressive figures, emerged from a swirling mist, all attired in lime-green jump suits. They were demmie shaped, and possessed a demmie’s delicately pointy teeth, but they were also powerfully muscled and tall as a human. Across their chests, in big letters, were written.

JUMS

SMET

WEMS

KWALSKI

They stepped before the captain and saluted. He, in turn, retreated a pace and curtly motioned them to step aside. One learns quickly in the service, never make a habit of standing too close to greenies.

When they moved out of the way, it brought into view a smaller figure who had been standing behind them, also dressed in lime green. Her crisp salute tugged the tunic of her uniform, pulling crossed bandoliers tightly across her chest, a display which normally would have put the captain into a panting sweat, calling for someone to relieve him at the con. Here, the sight rocked him back in dismay.

“Lieutenant Gala Morell, Captain,” she introduced herself. “You and your party will be safe with us on the job.” Snappily, she saluted a second time and stepped over to join her team. Along the way, her gaze swept past me.

“Advisor,” she said. And I nodded back. “Lieutenant.”

“Aw hell,” Ohm muttered to me as the security team took up stations behind us. “A girl greenie. I hate it when that happens!”

On that occasion, I silently agreed. This particular young officer had spent much of the voyage out from Nebula Base Twelve pestering me with questions – one of those intellectually voracious demmies you’ll meet who are fascinated by all things human. Once, she even brought me a steaming bowl of our Earthling indispensable camb’l leek soup. Standing there, with her commanding a security detail that was about to land on an alien world, I had to admit that I would kind of miss the attention.

All I could do is shrug and share a brief glance with Nuts. I already agreed with her dour feeling about this mission.

The dissolution techs finished gathering any metal or mechanical objects from us, to be put in pneumatic tubes. Guts made sure – as always – that his medical kit went into the tube last, so it would be readily available upon arrival…