Things were quiet across Chiron immediately after the summit; I guess people were coming to terms with the fact they were not alone anymore. I mean, they knew they weren't the last people alive, since the four late landers had proved otherwise, but now they knew (or at least assumed) that Seeding missions to other worlds had succeeded. They were right about that, as my own S.E.T.I. systems were detecting signals from several nearby stars. I'd made sure to inform the Leaders that I was launching ships and satellites into orbit, so that they wouldn't assume I was trying to get the jump on them. Even if they didn't believe me, the fact I was telling them showed I was willing to be civil.

Additionally, I began working on furthering my relations with Planet. Besides creating more forests, I also started allowing the aliens to nest around my structures, which involved planting Xenomass around them, then adding in Miasma. It was tedious, but it was paying off, and the aliens were letting me work in peace. Sometimes, they even offered gifts in the form of artifacts I would normally need to recover from their nests. Looks like being green had its benefits.

Finally, I began researching the Progenitor Technology I'd received from the locals: it wasn't the whole set, obviously, but it was still pretty interesting. While I knew the locals didn't want to give up any aces they had in their sleeves against my tech base, what they did have was still of use to me. I was especially interested in some of the artifacts that could be created via examining Progenitor relics; with what I had, I was managed to assemble the Relativistic Data Bank, which boosted my hacking defense software to absolutely ludicrous levels. As in, way beyond what the normal Commander hacking defense protocol's offered.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

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It started a week after the summit: someone said that they looked forward to doing business with my people, and that they believed they could coexist. Another guy didn't like that, so he wrecked the first guy's car. That doesn't really seem like much, right?

On it's own, it isn't.

The problem was, this was not an isolated incident. Reports of confrontations like this started popping up all over the planetary news networks within ours of the first incident. Apparently, there were quite a few people who didn't like me at all, but no one wanted to be the first to express it publicly. The random man that busted the car, though, had provided the spark needed to light this powder keg and set off a huge wave of xenophobia toward me. Now, it wasn't the majority opinion, thank god. Of course, given time, it would grow.

The worst part of this mess? I didn't have any way to fix it. I could offer more technology, but I wasn't sure how they colonies would use it, and I doubted that none of them would attempt to use the tech for violent purposes. If I intervened and attacked the protesters, I'd just prove their point. Do nothing at all, and the sentiment against me would only increase. I was trapped between Scylla and Charybdis here, and their was no easy way out.

At least, that was how it started. Just three days later, I found a solution.

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"Attention, you are approaching the Infernum Federation Exclusion Zone, as has been specified by the Ayaan Accords. Turn back now."

The source of that voice was one of my doxes. As for the exclusion zone thing, that was one of the stipulations that came from the summit of Ayaan: my forces wouldn't expand past some designated borders, and in exchange, no unauthorized personnel would enter my territory.

That was something the guy driving the (larger than normal) trade convoy truck that was currently parked right in front of the dox just didn't seem to understand. He'd been here for about 10 minutes, refusing to budge. In fact, while my dox had been berating him, he'd taken out a cell phone and called someone, presumably his boss. The markings on his vehicle indicated he'd come from the ARC, but a quick scan of the ARC's public and private delivery schedules showed that his usage of the vehicle was unauthorized. In fact, a set of rovers were on the way to apprehend him now.

Mr. Unauthorized apparently found that out, because the minute he got off the phone, he floored the gas on his trade vehicle (Truck? Trailer? I'm still not sure what it should be called) and rammed my dox. The dox pretty much shrugged the impact off, while the front half of the caravan was totaled and the driver got knocked out. A nearby CNDR drone quickly moved in to stabilize the trespasser; I wanted to send him to the authorities alive so that he would not become a martyr in the eyes of my detractors.

Of course, that did leave me wondering what was in the caravan. So, once the CNDR finished stabilizing the trespasser, it received a new directive: examine the caravan's cargo. In a matter of moments, it had unlocked the rear door and was examining the cargo. It found, in order: food, tools, weapons, drugs, research data, some random pieces of tech I didn't bother to examine further... and children. A lot of children. All of whom appeared to be malnourished.

...OKAY, WHY ARE THERE CHILDREN IN A TRADE CARAVAN?!

After taking a moment to make sure that the children were free of an other maladies, I redirected the CNDR to search the front of the caravan for a manifest, as well as make sure that our trespasser hadn't died and add more bandages to cover his wounds. A few minutes and bandages later, I found a set of notes in the glove compartment. Analysis of the ink indicated that they had only been written a few hours ago.

Take all cargo to designated drop off point. Once there, its sale will be discussed. Kids will be fed and worked once location is reached. You will be given previously agreed payment at delivery once cargo has been verified, plus 5% of the profits made from this.

Beneath that were a series of names:

Alan Matthews

Teresa Lopez

Elisha Amos

Conrad Fischer

Elizabeth Jones

Peter Gorynych

May Su

Miguel Costa

Bianka Nyman

Hideki Ito

Marion Calavera

Percival Walters

Twelve names. The matched the number of children that had been in the cargo area. A quick scan revealed that these children had been sent to an orphanage after their parents had been killed during an industrial accident. Said orphanage had lost track of them a few days before the summit, owing to a particularly bad fire sweeping through their home city. From the looks of it, they'd been, well, kidnapped, and were to be taken to a nearby station. Adding to their ordeal, they hadn't been able to secure a lot of good food at the orphanage due to an unexpected disease cutting down harvests, and they clearly hadn't been fed by their captor. What would've happened after they reached the station, I had no clue, but considering what else was in the caravan, it probably wasn't a good.

Well, now they were safe and could be given proper treatment, and the authorities could intervene...or I could deal with these criminals.

Which might boost my reputation: after all, they had trespassed or my territory, and they weren't exactly doing themselves favors by carrying several illegal items on their caravan...

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While this wasn't necessarily the best solution to my problem, it was an effective one. Everything else that came from it were just nice bonuses, even if they changed my plans for being a commander.

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That being said, Read and Review! This is Flameal15k, signing off!