Page 5 of Close Encounters of the Hot Kind

"As you wish. Though I feel compelled to point out that your heart rate increases 23.7% whenever you review her file."

I ignore him, instead focusing on the security feed showing Aileen closing up the restaurant. She pauses at the door, looking back at the spot where we had our confrontation. A small smile plays across her lips.

My own mouth curves up in response. Seven hours until dinner. It feels like an eternity.

"Sir, your dopamine levels-"

"Mute."

The blessed silence returns. Though I swear I can still hear Teletran's judgmental hum in the quantum network.

I slump in my chair, letting memories wash over me. Before Earth. Before Veritas. Back when my claws tasted Grolgath blood instead of typing quarterly reports.

The Battle of Rigel Seven. My war-blade singing through scaled flesh as their shock troops tried to breach our lines. The sweet tang of plasma discharge in the air.

"Remember when we actually fought our enemies, Teletran?"

"You mean before you became a keyboard warrior? How droll."

"I led the third assault wave at New Damascus. Now I lead shareholder meetings."

"Your glory days of mindless violence. How tragic to trade them for strategy and cunning."

My fist clenches. The metal desk groans under my grip.

"We knew who our enemies were then. No masks. No pretending."

A data stream catches my eye - Aileen's latest social media update. Just a simple coffee shop photo, but her smile...

"The Precursors work in mysterious ways," I mutter.

"Sir?"

"Nothing."

But the thought lingers. Of all the humans to guard this secret, why her? Why does fate keep pushing us together? The ancient ones were known for their elaborate plans, their cosmic matchmaking.

I shake my head. Best keep those thoughts private. Veritas has enough conspiracy theories without me adding mystical speculation to the mix.

"Sir, about those dinner reservations-"

"Not now, Teletran."

My claws trace the edge of the desk. Three centuries ago, I would have simply stormed that restaurant and seized the Grolgath device. Now I play these delicate games of influence and persuasion.

And yet... watching Aileen's fierce determination, her unwavering spirit. Perhaps there are some advantages to this subtler approach after all.

"Computer, begin mission report dictation."

Teletran's holographic head bobs in acknowledgment. The quantum recorder hums to life.

"Veritas Mission Report Delta Seven Four Nine. Agent Varak reporting. Time index three point two standard cycles." I clear my throat. "My attempts to acquire the property through monetary means have proven fruitless so far. However, I am about to engage in dialogue with a key player in the property management scheme. I believe I can persuade her..." My voice catches. "That is, them, to accept our more than generous offer for the corner lot."

"End dictation. Save and encrypt."

"Report saved, sir." Teletran's pixels rearrange into what I swear is a smirk. "Shall I edit it for accuracy before transmission? Perhaps mention your... personal interest in the property manager?"

"Send it exactly as recorded."

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