The Delivery
After a week of constantly sending and re-sending messages, at last Shran received a reply. Captain Archer was too busy to meet him in person (which he apologised for, so Shran would forgive him despite the inconvenience) and was sending one of his officers by shuttle to collect the... delivery... in his absence.
"Remember," he told his crew, "these humans are peculiar creatures, and they have a strange way of talking which you might find offensive. But you're to show them respect. They are our allies... and besides, they're much better to deal with than the Vulcans."
He was, of course, secretly hoping he could get something out of them. Intelligence, commodities, a debt... or whatever else they might offer.
As for the 'delivery,' that had been placed in a special secure room, but not before it found its way into the ship's silo and devoured most of the meat and dairy items in storage. Catching it had been a mission in and of itself - and it had ended up doing its business on Shran's uniform before he could stun it. Now the nurse was take care of it... but it was smelly and needed constant attention, and it was becoming more and more of an inconvenience...
Finally the shuttlepod arrived and docked. Shran went down to meet the officer. His crew hadn't yet been schooled in how to handle pink-skins, and he was afraid a misplaced word might undo the good relationship he'd forged with them. The security guard stood stood aside as the hatch opened.
"Lieutenant," Shran perked up his antennae in greeting. "Thank you for responding to our messages, even if it wasn't as fast as I'd have liked. If you have no objection, I'll take you to your... delivery... immediately."
