The man looking back at Dylan from the viewscreen didn't look like a politician. He seemed to be in his mid-forties, though the shock of white hair above a scar that ran along the side of his forehead into his hairline, as well as the air of weariness about him, made him look older. Dylan rather thought he knew how the man felt.

"Greetings. I am Dylan Hunt, captain of the Andromeda Ascendant. My ship is in need of repairs and supplies, and I was hoping you would be interested in conducting trade."

The man on the viewscreen gave him a friendly smile. "Well met, Captain Hunt. I am General Marcus Kellan, interim President of Lanvar Three. Your ship is welcome to dock at our station, and we will be pleased to assist you in obtaining whatever you need to repair your ship. And..." He paused, as if trying to remember something. "...Dylan Hunt, weren't you the man who was trying to put the Systems Commonwealth back together a couple of years ago?"

No point in denying it, thought Dylan. "Yes," he admitted, "that's me."

General Kellan's face showed no sign of losing its friendly expression. "Ah. How's that been going, by the way? News from offworld has been a bit sporadic lately, I must confess."

The Captain inwardly gave a sigh of relief, then pondered the best way to answer the man's question. "That's... rather a long story, actually."

The General nodded. "Well, I hope you'll do me the honor of meeting me on the station this evening and telling it to me, along with anything else that has been going on in the rest of the universe these days that I've missed. And, perhaps, you might be able to help us out with a bit of a problem that we have on our hands."

"I'd be happy to help in any way I can. What's the problem?"

General Kellan sighed. "That, too, is a long story. Perhaps we should wait and discuss these things in person?"

Dylan nodded. "Fair enough. When should I be prepared to meet you?"

"We'll make it a dinner function. The invitation extends to any personnel you care to bring with you. 1800 hours local time. Is that agreeable?"

Dylan spared a glance at the chrono display beside the screen. Five hours; that should be plenty of time for Harper to compile a list of parts and supplies needed to make Andromeda's repairs, and for everyone to prepare for what had rapidly become a diplomatic function. That thought gave him an inward shudder; the crew of the Maru and diplomatic events were two things that combined about as well as anti-protons and atmosphere, and often to similar results. However, it was a bit late for second thoughts now.

"That sounds just fine, General. We'll see you at 1800."

"Very good. See you then, Captain." Kellan smiled affably, then pressed a button to end the transmission. The viewscreen darkened, and the image of Lanvar Three reappeared in his stead. The planet was covered in thick green-gray clouds, from which the skyhook prominently protruded, linking the station to the planet below.

Dylan turned to Trance, who had been standing to one side watching as he spoke with General Kellan, and looked at her expectantly. "Well, Trance? What do you think?"

"He seems like a nice man," she replied decisively, without hesitation. "I think you can trust him."

Dylan took a deep, relieved breath. Deception and attempted murder had become par for the course for the last... well, actually, more or less since Andromeda was rescued from the black hole, now that he thought about it. It was refreshing to think that he might actually be able to sit down to dinner with a planetary leader without having somebody try to kill him. "Good. In that case, who thinks they can handle coming to dinner without starting a diplomatic incident?"

All eyes turned to Harper. "What?!" he protested, hands raised defensively. "What have I ever done to... okay, don't answer that. But this time'll be different. Honest. Trust in the Harper..."

Dylan cut him off before he could tell them that the Harper was good. "Alright, Mr. Harper, you can come. Just... try to maintain some appearance of professionalism?"

"Absolutely. Seamus Harper, strictly business. You won't have a thing to worry about from me," Harper exuberantly reassured him, grinning.

"Perhaps I should come as well, Captain," Rhade interjected. "It would be advisable to have someone with you to keep an eye on security matters while you conduct negotiations, and I am confident that Beka and Andromeda can handle the ship's defense in the event of an attack in our absence."

Dylan blinked. Maybe there was such a thing as too much professionalism. "Agreed. Beka, bring us in for docking with the station. Harper, have a list of supplies we need for repairs, as well as an inventory of whatever surplus we have available for trading, ready by 1730 hours. Rhade, keep me informed of anything unusual."

A chorus of "Right," "Will do," and "Aye, sir," followed Dylan out of Command as he headed for his office to review in further detail the information in Andromeda's database on Lanvar Three.