Caldwell stepped out of his jet and looked at the city in the distance. He nodded, squeezed the handle of his suitcase, and set off, accompanied by a short woman who appeared to be in her fifties. She wore a pink pantsuit, large glasses and had close cropped gray hair. They walked swiftly, escorted by whatever guards the Federation deemed necessary to protect the nation from these two aging diplomats. As soon as Caldwell got off the plane, he turned to the nearest guard. "I am Senator Woodow Caldwell, and this is my companion Del Rosenbaum. We are here on behalf of the Oculi. We ask to speak with the Dictator of the Federation regarding an urgent request from my organization. You can tell your superiors we offer an alliance, if they're wiling to make our deal.

As they were being escorted, Rosenbaum turned her head to Caldwell. "You know there's a good chance they're going to just kill us and be done with it," she whispered. "We represent change. That's never good for a dictator."

Caldwell frowned. "They'll only kill us if they want a full war with the Oculi. In seven months we've overthrown two major governments. I'm sure some of this Federation's leaders were at Bresson's funeral. Of course they know what we represent."