Three figures dashed out of the forest, one slightly smaller than the others. In pursuit was a hoard of large insects with long buzzing wings and bumpy fuchsia bodies. Once out in the open, the figures turned and began slashing at the bugs, which took several hits each before giving up and flying back into the woods.

“I think we upset them!” huffed Izal, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one that literally poked the vespin nest,” Cahir accused.

“I thought it was empty!” he defended.

“Yeah, well turns out they were only sleeping, and really didn’t appreciate being woken.” Verena examined her blade for any damage caused by the tough exoskeletons.

“Sounds like someone I know,” Izal joked and Verena gave him a look.

Cahir surveyed the sky. “Well hopefully they settle down again soon so we can go back and finish packing. We don’t want to be late for our meeting.”

“That’s a nice way of putting what we’re about to walk into,” said Izal.

“You're confident diplomacy is off the table?”

Verena sighed. “Violence is the true first language of Edetan. Babies learn to fight before they learn to talk, and even then it’s mostly military call and response. They’re raised as soldiers above all else, and taught to do as they’re told without question.”

“Were you raised that way?” asked Cahir.

“Not quite. Outside our home I was expected to follow, but inside away from judging eyes, my mother encouraged me to have a mind of my own. Being off world changed her. A literal universe of possibilities had been opened up before her and she wanted more for me than what she had been afforded.”

“So how did you become the General’s protege?”

“She took a special interest in me and, despite a little defiance, I was a pretty good little soldier. I think she wanted me to climb the ranks as she had. If she hadn’t discovered my true lineage, I might have followed in her footsteps.”

“General Verena?” Izal remarked. “You’d probably be well suited for it, a natural born leader, but I’d rather have you as a rogue. I don’t like stuffy people. Or supremacists.”

“And I’m sure this planet appreciates the work you’ve done to rid them of anomalies,” Cahir added.

“I think they appreciate the Death Stalker a bit more,” Verena pointed out wryly.

He shrugged. “They don’t know any better.”

“D’you think it’s safe to go back in now?” Izal peered through the trees.

Verena gave him a playful shove that almost knocked him over. “Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

Verena, Izal, and Cahir entered the foyer of the largest stone structure on the planet, which wasn’t saying much, but they looked sharp in their tailored clothes.

“Weapons.” A guard indicated that they should lay down their arms and the three placed their respective primary weapons on a large table. “All of them,” the guard reiterated and they exchanged glances with one another.

“I didn’t bring anything else,” Izal shrugged and the others nodded in agreement.

“This way,” instructed another guard. As he led them into the hall, the first guard tried and failed to lift Verena’s sword, requiring help from a few others to move it to the designated storage area.

Doors shut behind them, the trio were seated at a long table at the center of the room, placed perpendicularly to a smaller table set on a platform against the far wall. After awhile they heard loud voices coming from the entrance, then a metallic rustling and series of loud thumps. More muffled words were exchanged and another series of softer thumps were heard.

The doors burst open again and thirteen imposing figures in stiff uniform strode swiftly in, lining up on the other side of the long table. A tall older woman with short black hair and deep frown lines glared as she took her place opposite of Verena.

“Be seated,” commanded a booming, yet bored voice from where five more figures had entered behind the High Table. “The High Council of Washend has been called today to the Hall of Ambassadors on behalf of the Great Feudal Tribune to hear the request of the representatives from Edetan. Please state your name and your request for the record.”

The older woman stood again and turned to address the council members. “Grand General Almeza, Leader of the Guard and Protector of Edetan. I demand an extradition in accordance with the laws of the Great Federal Tribune to remand punishment of this blood traitor.”

The ambassador raised their hand in objection. “General, please be advised that The Tribune does not acknowledge genetics alone as a crime, and your request cannot be upheld.”

“The Constitutional Agreement of the GFT states that the laws of each planet will be upheld and defended on said planet; that the offended have a right to try the offender per local customs,” Almeza insisted.

“Yes, however, the GFT reserves the right to define what constitutes a crime, when the accused resides off world of the offense,” the ambassador asserted. “The High Council of Washend will not grant an extradition, as in the eyes of the GFT, no crime has occurred.”

“Then I demand allowance of a forced return!”

“You wish to attempt a citizen’s extradition by force?”

“Yes!”

The ambassador sighed heavily. “The accused then has the right to petition political asylum.” They turned to Verena. “Do you, the accused, wish to be granted asylum.”

“No,” Verena said firmly.

“Then the matter is-” the ambassador stopped. “What did you say?”

“I said no,” she confirmed.

“Do you understand the implications of rejecting asylum? You will not be granted protection under the Great Feudal Tribune, and the General will be allowed to take you by force for trial by the courts of Edetan where the GFT can no longer intervene.”

“She can try,” Verena said dryly.

“Excuse me?”

“Under the Constitutional Agreement, a citizen can be granted one attempt to extradite by force, however, if the attempt fails, no more attempts can be made by the offended plant to remit the accused.”

“Yes,” agreed the ambassador.

“So, I’d like to see her try. I Verena, Leader of Myself, would like to request of the High Council of Washend, permission to meet the Grand General and her Guard in battle a week from now.”

“Are you sure?”

Verena stood. “If you believe that they will leave here peacefully without me, I have a star to sell you.”

The ambassador nodded in understanding. “Alright. Request granted. Before the witnesses here today, in one week’s time, a place will be made available for the accused and the accuser to meet in battle in accordance with the rules of a citizen’s extradition, the outcome of which will be considered final. Until then, engagement between the opposing parties is expressly forbidden, with any violations to be punished severely by the Feudal High Court.”

“That went well,” Izal noted as they stepped back outside. The soldiers scrambled to recollect their gear in a flurry of activity behind them.

“She really is out for your head,” Cahir said with mild surprise.

“You heard her. I’m considered a traitor to an entire species,” Verena stated with nonchalance.

“For merely existing. I don’t understand.”

“Logic isn’t their strong suit. Their beliefs are formed on an imperfect foundation, therefore any conclusions they draw thereafter are misguided at best.”

“And there are no detractors?”

“Indoctrinated from birth, raised in cultural isolation, the only forays into a larger society being temporary wartime excursions, after which they must return or die… I can’t really blame them, even though I don’t agree with them.”

“But they could learn something from you!” Izal said with frustration. “You’re living, breathing proof that there is a way for them to advance their species!”

“I’m a threat to everything they’ve ever known. I do hope that one day things will be different, and I will support any effort for change, however it’s ultimately up to them if they wish to progress.”

“Why wait a week?” Cahir asked. “I thought you wanted this over with quickly?”

“In a week they will start to feel the effects of early gravity sickness,” Verena explained.

“Do they not realize? Why didn’t they protest.”

“I told you, their strength is their weakness. They think it won’t matter.”

Izal frowned. “Well, let’s get out of here before I lose my appetite.”

Cahir scoffed. “Oh, we wouldn’t want that.”