"Boss."
Daiz's tone was rather grim.
"We have a situation."
Turles stopped in his tracks.
"Go on."
"While I was scouting outside, I noticed some suspicious characters."
Daiz sat down in front of Turles.
"There are a lot more plainclothes agents on the streets. They don't browse the shops or look at the advertisements. They keep their eyes on the aliens coming and going."
Had Morton made too much of a commotion? Or was the United Government itself tightening its control over outsiders?
He pulled out his communications earpiece, put it on, and connected to Elec's channel.
"Elec."
"Mr. Turles."
The voice on the other end came quickly.
"Planet Karen seems to have stepped up its screening of alien visitors. Plainclothes agents have appeared in both the commercial district and the spaceport."
Turles finished speaking and waited for a response.
"That's within expectations."
Elec's response was matter-of-fact.
"The military expenditures of three military districts have been abnormal over the past six months, and personnel transfers have become more frequent. The United Government isn't stupid; its intelligence system couldn't possibly have overlooked all that data."
Elec continued, "But their attention is still focused on the power struggle within the military. They haven't looked as far as outside forces."
"In other words, they think this is just a factional struggle within the military. It hasn't occurred to them that outsiders are involved."
Turles thought for a moment.
"Will those people affect our contact with Morton?"
"No."
Elec answered quickly.
"The spaceport falls under the Northern First Military District's jurisdiction. Morton has absolute control over his own territory."
Turles walked over to the control console and studied the positions of the plainclothes agents Daiz had marked for a while.
Then he switched off the display.
"Today's outing is canceled. For the next three days, everyone stays at our base and remains on standby."
"Until we meet Morton, don't go out again and increase the risk of exposure."
Daiz and Cacao nodded at the same time.
Night fell.
Planet Karen's capital entered its rest cycle.
Daiz and Cacao had both gone to rest.
Turles stood alone at the ventilation opening.
There was an industrial vent on the office building's roof, connected to the underground ventilation system.
Turles had climbed up through the internal maintenance passage and pushed open the grate, emerging onto the roof.
Planet Karen's night sky was clear.
Away from the light pollution, a dense band of stars could be seen stretching across the sky.
Turles gazed up at the night sky, his arms crossed over his chest.
Thoughts of Tights and Earth flashed unbidden through his mind.
Meanwhile, in a guesthouse open to the public.
As expected, Tights hadn't left.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, with a notebook, already more than half filled, spread out in front of her.
The room's lighting was soft. Biting her pen, she wrote and drew in the notebook.
"I met a very strange man today."
"He claimed to be an Earthling named Turles."
She put a big question mark beside the words "real estate."
It had belatedly occurred to her to suspect that Turles might have been lying to her.
But he really did look like an Earthling.
Were there people on other planets in the universe who looked just like Earthlings?
She didn't know. In any case, she really had never seen any in all these years.
Besides, if he wasn't an Earthling, how did he know about Earth?
What troubled her even more was that she had lost contact with Jaco.
About half a year ago, she had accidentally lost his contact information.
If only she could get in touch with Jaco.
"Turles knows about something that's going to happen. What is it? It has something to do with this planet."
She looked at the line, her eyes lighting up.
As a novelist, she had a far greater sensitivity to stories than most people.
A mysterious man, a coming storm, a beautiful planet.
By the time she thought of that, a Hoi-Poi Capsule had already appeared in her hand.
She had obtained it from the Galactic Patrol Organization...
Three days later.
Northern First Military District, civilian spaceport.
In the cargo passage area, the air was filled with the mingled smells of engine oil and strange goods from different planets.
Turles and the other two had changed into hired security uniforms provided by the Heeters Group. They were dark gray, with no unnecessary insignia.
Daiz and Cacao followed behind him. The three men's forged "interstellar security contractor" credentials passed through Planet Karen's systems without a hitch.
People came and went through the spaceport, and patrolling soldiers could be seen everywhere. The atmosphere was far tenser than in the capital's commercial district.
A soldier stopped them and swept his gaze over the three. He took the credentials terminal, gave it a cursory glance, and waved them through.
This was Morton's territory.
His word was law.
Before long, the low rumble of engines came from the VIP passage.
A military convoy drove in. On the armored vehicle at its head, the Northern First Military District's flag snapped in the air currents flowing through the passage.
The convoy came to a stop.
A burly Karenite officer stepped out of a vehicle. He had dark blue skin and a hard-featured face, and his uniform was covered in medals.
Morton.
He didn't even look at the subordinates gathered to greet him. His gaze went straight through the crowd and landed on Turles and the other two.
There were no pleasantries, no unnecessary movements.
He merely tilted his head toward the adjutant behind him.
The adjutant immediately stepped forward and approached the three men, his face expressionless.
"Come with us."
The convoy started up again and left the spaceport.
Along the way, they passed through several checkpoints under the First Military District's direct jurisdiction. At each one, the soldiers were fully armed, and the verification procedures were airtight.
At last, the convoy stopped in front of a semi-underground facility that looked like an ordinary supply warehouse.
The warehouse's roll-up door rose, and the convoy drove straight in.
Inside, however, it was a different sight.
There were layer upon layer of security gates, counter-detection jammers flashing red on the walls, and the burnt smell of overloaded equipment in the air.
The communicator in Turles's ear lost its signal completely after he passed through the second security gate.
The Heeters Group's channel fell silent.
Interesting.
Is this a trap disguised as a feast, or a show of force?
Turles wondered, but his steps didn't falter in the slightest.
They passed through a long metal corridor, at the end of which stood a heavy alloy door.
Beyond it was a hidden command room.
Morton was already seated at the head of a long table. Behind him stood four fully armed guards, their energy rifles held ready to fire.
He didn't invite Turles to sit.
His appraising eyes moved back and forth over the three men, as though assessing the quality of his prey.
The command room was terrifyingly quiet, with only the faint hum of the ventilation system.
The silence lasted nearly half a minute.
Morton finally spoke, his first words an unequivocal assertion.
"You aren't Karenites."
Turles didn't deny it. His expression didn't even change.
"If we were Karenites, General, you probably wouldn't need us."
Morton's brow twitched.
He leaned back against his chair and tapped his fingers twice against the smooth metal tabletop, producing a rhythmic tapping sound.
"That fellow Elec sent me three aliens."
The distrust in his tone was undisguised.
"What I need is power capable of turning the tide of battle at a crucial moment, not three bodyguards."
Daiz's body tensed slightly, and the red light in the optical unit of Cacao, standing behind Turles, flickered as well.
Faced with Morton's doubts, Turles was in no hurry to explain.
He simply stood where he was, arms crossed over his chest, his posture almost lazy.
"General, we aren't your subordinates, so I suggest you watch your tone."