"What do you think of my new jacket, Mr. Jamna?" said Ambassador Jarcorr.
"It looks representative of the Katarn people, Mr. Ambassador," replied his aide.
Jarcorr raised his left brow, looking annoyed. "Mr. Jamna, I was fishing for flattery even though it does not become you. I'm looking to be amused. A nervous diplomat needs amusement."
"Perhaps I can press the jacket again for you."
"You're not going to do that. You'd burn the fur-lining ... " the ambassador slaps his forehead, laughing. "Right, Mr. Jamna pressing the jacket. I'm amused now."
"We're running late, Mr. Ambassador."
Jarcorr nodded. He turned to the glass-wall, which could be frosted with voice command for privacy, and looked at the misty, morning cityscape of Old Ur, a planetwide city and the center of known space. The many steel and glass towers punctured Ur's skies like abundant corns in a field.
"This is where it all started, Mr. Jamna. One cannot help but be overwhelmed by the overbearing history and antiquity of this planet. Don't you think so?"
"I think the colonists that our ancestors were had built Katarn Prime one-thousand years ago for their posterity to call home. We've turned our backs from this reliquary long ago. The Katarn is now a people of its own."
"You're right, Mr. Jamna. My mission here is to protect the rights and interest of our people. Enough of the view, lets move."
"I thought you'd never do so."
A sharp noise of particle weapon fire was heard the moment both ambassador and aide walked out of the diplomat's suite, and the headline of tomorrow's Ur Herald was written: The Katarn Ambassador Assassinated: Katarn Prime Declares War.
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