The IES Scout Ship docked at the IES HQ with a satisfied thump into the supporting arms of the landing pad. Heron looked over at Byron and Nelson and smiled broadly, “We’re back in civilisation. How about we grab a bite to eat together?”

  “Yeah!” said Byron as he thought of all the great food he had missed over the last few years and looked for his travel bag.

  Nelson looked at his communicator and muttered, “Sorry, can’t join you.”

  “Why not?” asked Heron.

  Nelson pointed at his wrist and said, “I have an appointment. As soon as I synched to the station’s network I received an urgent message. Gotta go.” With those closing words Nelson grabbed his own travel bag and raced past Byron and Heron to the ship’s exit. As soon as the doors opened Nelson was through and off down the corridor and quickly out of sight.

  “Huh,” commented Heron as he grabbed his pack, patted Byron on the shoulder and started walking towards the exit.

  Waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp was Chugalug looking less cheerful than usual, casting an occasional furtive glance around. Heron remembered the team leader’s shell as much more shiny and glittering but now it was just the standard red.

  “Come, come,” he said to the two returning explorers, “We must go at once. We have to talk.”

  Chugalug then turned and walked purposefully down the corridor in the opposite direction Nelson had travelled with a bemused Heron and Byron following. They turned down a side corridor and proceeded into the residential section of the station before finally stopping at a non-descript doorway. Chugalug waved a security pass, the door silently opened and he walked in to the revealed room.

  “Sir?” said Heron looking around at a sparsely furnished, simple dwelling unit, “This isn’t your office. Why are we here?”

  Chugalug went to the cooling unit and brought out a bottle of water, grabbed some glasses from the shelves and sat at the central table. He waved at the chairs and commenced filling up the glasses.

  “Sit down, lads,” he said, “Take the weight off your feet.”

  Heron and Byron straddled the specially designed multi-form friendly stools and started to drink their water. Chugalug raised a hand to Heron before any questions could be asked.

  “Lads, I need to ask you about the new inhabited planet you discovered,” said Chugalug, leaning in towards the other two.

  “Dirt?” asked Heron.

  “Yes, yes,” said Chugalug peremptorily, then looked up at Heron, “Unless you have found another one?”

  “No. Just Dirt,” answered Heron.

  Chugalug frowned and continued looking directly at Heron, “Why did you class it Non Compatible?”

  “What?” cried Heron.

  “No way!” cried out Byron.

  “My report said they should be Off Limits. Although the tests were one pass and three fails we believed they had the makings of future citizens of the Federation. We provided lots of evidence to back up our suggestion,” said Heron earnestly.

  “Your report has four fails with little supporting evidence,” stated Chugalug as he stood up and rummaged around the bottom of a drawer beneath the cooler.

  He found what he was looking for and returned to the table with his tablet and placed a memory chip inside. After a few deft movements of his gentle claws he turned around the tablet screen to face Heron, “Here is your report.”

  Heron grabbed the tablet and looked carefully at the screen. Byron leaned across and read something quite different to what they had prepared back on their ship.

  “Heron, that’s not your report,” said Byron.

  “No,” said Heron worriedly, “It’s not.”

  Chugalug looked between his two visitors and said, “Not your report? But that is what we received from you.”

  Byron poked Heron in the shoulder, “Remember what happened just before we left when we had that encounter with the Dirtlings in their space station?”

  “A Dirtling space station?” asked Chugalug.

  “Nelson!” said Heron ignoring Chugalug’s question, “He sent the report off after we had gone to rest. Why would he have changed it?”

  Byron addressed Chugalug while Heron reached into his bag and took out his tablet and moved his fingers quickly across the screen.

  “Yeah,” he said, “A Dirtling space station. I woke up after the night Heron finished his report and looked out the front screen to see some Dirtlings looking at us from their space station. They must have found us somehow and came to investigate. As we were leaving I waved to them and they waved back. They looked pretty friendly.”

  Heron spoke whilst he was manipulating the data on his tablet, “I added it to my updated report which is based on the initial report I sent. The incident just reinforced my earlier recommendation but I didn’t send it as the first report should have been strong enough anyway.”

  Finally Heron turned the screen around to face Chugalug and showed him the updated report, “Can I share this with you?”

  Chugalug quickly put up two of his arms, “Wait! Don’t send it to my IES account. Send it to my personal account.” He grabbed Heron’s tablet and entered in his details and pressed SEND.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Why not, Sir?” Byron asked.

  Heron interrupted, “Because there is something going on that is not right.”

  Chugalug nodded as he checked his incoming files area, found the updated report, opened it and began to read.

  “Heron’s correct. Something is definitely not right,” said Chugalug.

  “We’re here now and can sort out the mess, can’t we Heron,” said Byron.

  Heron looked up from his tablet where he had been doing some reading.

  “I’m afraid it won’t be that easy,” said Heron, holding up the news feed from a few days ago.

  “NEW HUNTER PLANET BOUGHT BY HTI!” announced the headlines, “MORE LEGAL, SAFE AND RARE HUNTS FOR THE FEDERATION PEOPLE.”

  “They’re going to hunt Dirtlings?” said Byron.

  Heron nodded glumly, turning the tablet back towards himself and continued reading.

  “Why don’t we go to the Director?” asked Byron. Chugalug and Heron just looked at him, which was enough to remind Byron of what the Director was like and he answered, “I guess not.”

  “But we must be able to do something?” pleaded Byron.

  Chugalug looked up from his reading of the report and said mysteriously, “There may be something we can do. Or more accurately, someone who can do something.”

  He then waved his arms at the two explorers indicating they should just sit back and wait while he continued reading the updated report.

  “Well, well, well,” said Chugalug when he had finished the report. His claws moved across his tablet and he pressed a number of buttons and then put the tablet down on the table.

  “That should do it,” he said with a sigh.

  “Do what?” asked Heron.

  Chugalug leaned forward and indicated for the other two to do the same and whispered, “Internal Affairs Special Division”

  “Ah,” said Heron with understanding.

  “Huh?” said Byron not understanding.

  Heron looked around furtively and answered his friend, “You know how the Director and administration tend to be more worried about image and credits and so on?”

  Byron nodded.

  “And you know how the rank and file - all those who do the actual work - still abide by our motto and take it seriously?” Heron asked.

  “Greetings, We mean you no harm?” asked Byron.

  “No, the motto which underlies the proud tradition of the Imperial Exploration Service,” answered Heron.

  “Oh. Seek and Find New Friends,” said Byron.

  “Exactly,” said Heron, “The exploration team leaders, exploration teams and the Internal Affairs - Special Division have held onto this motto and it is the life blood of the service.

  Chugalug nodded in agreement as Heron continued, “We can’t take this to the top as they are probably pretty happy to make more credits off Dirt,”

  “Dirty money?” interrupted Byron.

  Heron paused pondering the new phrase, “Yes. Dirty money. That’s a very appropriate phrase. The administration has sold off the planet and doesn’t want to be seen making an error. The only way to get around that is the Internal Affairs Special Division. They have direct reporting to the Emperor himself.”

  “And that’s good?” asked Byron, thinking of the poor excuse for an Emperor that currently sat on the throne.

  “Yes,” said Heron, “You have to remember that reporting to the Emperor means reporting to the Emperor’s private court, which still holds to the ideals of the Federation. The public court is full of those seeking favour, but the Emperor’s private court do their best to run a good Federation. The whole IES was originally set up to stop the fighting and squabbling over new planets.”

  “So what happens now?” asked Byron, looking at Chugalug and Heron.

  “We wait,” said Chugalug.

  ****

  Denton, the Security Chief of the Federation, stood in his spartan office facing a three dimensional interactive map of the Federation spinning slowly in the centre of the room. He was five feet tall with four tentacles flowing out from under his grey cloak and four others from underneath his neck. He looked at his assistant with a selection of his many eyes and asked, “When was this new planet discovered?”

  “Six months ago, Sir,” answered Scrags, his assistant of many years. Scrags was three feet tall, hairy all over with four small feet and two long arms.

  “I understand it is called Dirt,” he said, not expecting an answer as he moved his tentacles in the air and the map started to turn and a section began to come closer.

  “There it is, Sir,” said Scrags needlessly as the planet Dirt came into focus.

  “Why has this planet been brought to our attention?” Denton asked. This was Denton’s preferred method of working through a problem. He always had the information he required but he found vocalising the problems and bouncing the ideas off Scrags helped him to better frame the issue and come up with better solutions. It was Denton’s difficult responsibility to ensure the safety and integrity of the Federation. Many feared him and the Federation Security Forces but that was because the only source of information for many was the public newsfeeds. It was not true but Denton found that a little misplaced fear helped in performing his duties.

  “The initial report clearly indicated the classification of Non Compatible and it was sold off to HTI,” said Scrags.

  “Of course,” noted Denton. Most of the inhabited NC planets went to Hunting Tours Incorporated. Perhaps he should do some more careful investigating of HTI - just in case.

  Scrags continued, “We have just received from one of our IES agents a new report. It appears that the original report had been altered prior to it being sent.”

  “Indeed?” said Denton, folding two of his tentacles under his chin.

  “The second report differed markedly from the first. Dirt certainly wouldn’t become members of the Federation, but they should have been Off Limits class,” said Scrags.

  “Sir,” said Scrags, pausing in his reply, “You have all this information and we both know you have already read it. Why am I repeating this?”

  Denton smiled, which was a scary sight for the uninitiated, “That is true, Scrags. We also know that I find listening to your review of the case helps me to gather more insights. We also know that you have often added your own insights to your review which I would otherwise miss.”

  Scrags looked away with feigned innocence as Denton continued, “And do you not find this joint review makes your job more interesting?”

  Scrags nodded with a subtle smile and continued, “Anyway, the second report shows a number of interesting additions. Just before the IES team left Dirt they were discovered by a Dirtling orbiting space station and made initial first contact.”

  “Indeed. So we have a rudimentary space going mostly intelligent race that has been declared Non Compatible. Interesting,” mused Denton, as he then asked, “What do you think will happen?”

  “Sir,” said Scrags, “We know that HTI knows a lot more about the planet than is included in the first report. They sent one of their men to Dirt for further investigations and he has just returned. We also know that they have no knowledge of a more detailed report in existence.”

  “Yes,” encouraged Denton, “Go on.”

  “I think HTI may get into some trouble this time,” said Scrags, “Especially if we help.”

  “Help?” asked Denton pretending to not understand how he could possible help HTI.

  “Yes,” said Scrags quickly, “We could help by ensuring the report is kept quiet. We could help by just staying out of HTI’s way and monitor what is happening on Dirt. And then when it all goes wrong, we can be there to add a pile of fuel to the slowly starting fire.”

  “A very picturesque image. Scrags,” suggested Denton.

  Scrags knew from his long working relationship with Denton that now was the moment to stay silent while Denton ruminated over all the issues. Denton was right. Scrags did appreciate the system which allowed him to add his insights into the questions at hand.

  “Scrags, take notes,” Denton said a short time later, and waited until Scrags flourished a tablet and dramatically poised his fingers above it, “Contact these explorers and make sure they don’t tell anyone about the real report. Contact all those at IES that may know of the second report and inform them likewise. Lastly, have X Bear pay me a visit.”

  Scrags looked up, “X Bear, Sir?”

  “Yes, Scrags,” said Denton, “I think this calls for a little finesse, don’t you?”

  Scrags nodded and hurried off to do as his leader commanded.