All through my life, I have only ever been sure of two things.
Thing number one. Mysterious, paranoid communities consisting of omni-suited rodents armed up to the tits are inherently awesome.  
Thing number two. Discussions about the economy are not.
So it was with mixed feelings that I boarded the sub to Letuposis as the Honorary Ambassador for Trade and Commerce on behalf of the United Kingdom of Species. In case you're unfamiliar with job-title bullshit, it signifies that I'm supposed to be getting some more cash in for the British government. Apparently you can go on an international trip to the bottom of the North Atlantic (all expenses paid) on the say-so of less than six men, provided they book it on a Friday afternoon and everyone is bored enough not to be paying attention properly.
My brief was in two parts. The first was to attempt to establish a preliminary agreement of trade between the British and Terran governments. The second was far more interesting.
I tried to look professional, but I couldn't help but stare at Letuposis as we approached. The great dome loomed out of the darkness like a colossal bubble that refused to burst. City lights blinked and shimmered through it, magnified by the glass to create rays of colour that sliced through the murk towards us. Terran constructs hovered around the exterior of Letuposis - a combination of military vehicles and early-warning systems, all ready for the ever-present apocalypse.
They greeted us politely enough, which is a nice way to say that they didn't open fire on us. A military escort guided our sub to the ports that lined the bottom of the dome. I was to meet with my contact there, who would take me to the Reeve - their equivalent of a sheriff.
The sub surfaced in a cramped, dark hangar. I picked up my suitcase, and checked the clasps. A brief glance out of one of the portholes revealed the Terran I guessed was there to greet me, watching impassively as water cascaded down the glass. A long dark hood hung ominously over his masked head, his long ears tucked somewhere amongst the folds. I scowled, thinking about that mask. An entire nation of creatures with perpetual poker-faces.
I was barely out of the sub before he was ushering me out of the hangar.
"You must be Mr Daric." he said, cheerfully. I liked him instantly.
"You don't have to worry about the Mister."
His head momentarily snapped in my direction, a gesture of surprise. "We are not yet on first name terms, Mr Daric."
"I don't have a surname." I explained. "So I'm on first name terms with everyone."
He didn't reply to that. A few seconds later, we were out onto the street. I barely had time to glance at the magnitude of their structures or the nuances of their design before I was hurried into a waiting cab, which screeched away from the seaport. All the doors immediately slammed closed, and covers descended over the windows, leaving only a sliver of light to bleed in from the sunroof.
The interior was surprisingly spacious, and I found myself on a large but comfortable seat. Straps dangled down from every side, but I didn't bother using them. I sat with my back to the driver's cabin, facing my guide and another Terran, both of whom had also eschewed their own straps.
The first, the one who had escorted me from the sub, had thrown back his hood. I couldn't help but stare slightly at his short, twitchy ears, which were more reminiscent of a dog's than a rabbit's. The eyes of his mask were more circular than most, and he had patchy but apparently deliberate orange marks dotted around the casing, mirrored here and there on the body of his bright omni-suit. The filter was longer and thinner than that of his companion, and clouds of smoke emanated from it in short, sharp puffs. The dots on his omni-suit occasionally blinked furiously, before settling back into their natural continuous state.
The second appeared calmer, and I guessed he was probably higher up the ladder. The back of his combat helmet extended into a smooth, sloping neck-guard, and a long strip of metal ran up his mask from the top edge of his filter, before branching off into two segments that arched over the rims of his eyeholes. Two black half-moon cylinders curved forwards from either side of his filter, giving the slightly unnerving impression of pincers, or tusks.
"You are Daric." Said the second creature, leaning forward so that the light caught his conical helmet. His voice was muffled, but warm - like campfire in a fog.
"I am." I replied politely. "And you are Reeve Hasst."
Hasst nodded serenely, indicating the Terran on his left.
"This is Vredell."
I inclined my head. Vredell gestured politely, but did not speak.
"So why have you come to see me?"
Here goes. "I'm here to negotiate a trade rou -"
"No, Daric." The Reeve shook his head. I could hear his smile through his voice. "The real reason. I must confess, I find myself concerned at the ineptitude of British foreign intelligence."
There was a brief silence as I adjusted.
"We're testing the waters, if you'll pardon the pun." I admitted. "Wanted to see if your own security was up to scratch."
They both seemed amused by this. I think. It was difficult to tell.
"And is it?"
I waved a hand. "Seems to be, doesn't it?"
Vedrell tapped his filter thoughtfully. "How did you expect to get through here with a half-baked cover story, Daric?"
"It was a perfectly decent cover story for my purposes." I retorted indignantly. "Bond's were never particularly elaborate, and he always got the job done."
"James Bond is a fictional character." Hasst pointed out, quite reasonably. "Also, he continually got his cover blown within about half an hour and always ended up dangling over pits of sharks."
Wow. I hadn't even expected him to get the reference. Hey - my God. He was right. James Bond is shit at covert spying.
"What's in the briefcase?" Vedrell nodded at it.
I shrugged. "Forms Papers. Props. Nothing significant. It was for appearances only."
Haast nodded, satisfied. "What is it you're really here for?"
"To be blunt, Reeve, the only function of the trade envoy act was to get me an audience with you. I'm buying the lives of two citizens." I said. They'd been honest enough with me, and the fact that I wasn't in chains being repeatedly poked with a vast number of unpleasant things at that moment was enough of a testament to their integrity, at least in my view. "Divers. Explorers. Pioneers of the unknown, masters of the natural world."
"The Dwarves."
"Yes."
Hasst immediately became fidgety, and Vedrell's hand flicked to the device on his wrist. I wondered if Vedrell had ever heard of 'shooting the messenger'. His body language suddenly indicated he might well be considering it.
"They stole from us. Their sentence was execution." Hasst said finally. His body language was stiffer, and the black circles he used for eyes were coldly impassive.
"I'm well aware of that." I replied calmly. "But they're still our citizens - that's why I came down here to plead for their lives. This is a diplomatic matter, and nobody wants a war over this."