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July 9, 2007 
Small specks of dust fling starlight into the vast reaches of space, stretching in an uneven line for what must be millions of miles. Days, weeks, months pass, the specks gaining in size, soon to be smallish blobs. Soon, the great gossamer 10 kilometer diameter round sails will be visible, the accompanying one mile diameter revolving wheel attached to the sail via a massive cable, attached to the wheel's hub. He puts down the binoculars and with a grunt signifying almost anything, he makes his way to the communications centre. A lone operator is clacking away at a Morse keypad, sending out a verifiable homing signal into the electronic soup of space, hoping that its target will be able to sort the Morse code from the plethora of human and non-human junk transmissions. "They've arrived." mutters Xenophon bitterly. The operator inclines his face upwards, a curious expression in his eye. "No need to send anymore, I just spotted them in the port quadrant. I'll get the welcoming committee together." He enters the companion way corridor situated on the outside of the revolving wheel. Stars move slowly about the edges of the great window. Two complexes are now clearly visible, spinning slowly against the painfully bright backdrop of the galaxy, as yet not officially named, but already tagged the system when it was but a faint glow against the blackness of the void. The government envoys settle into the seat of the shuttle, fastening seat belts, nodding at just arriving colleges. A klaxon sounds, there is a swish as the airlock empties, and then the dramatic raising of the outside door reveals the star-studded blackness. A one-gee force pushes them into their seat backs, and then they feel a floating sensation. As they traverse the hundred odd miles he glances through the file folder. Solar space system one-oh-five. New coding number oh-oh-seven-seven-four-one. Composed of three thousand living units supported by seven hundred and fifty-two manufacturing units, one thousand and three agricultural units, and a defense force comprised of thirty-two battle cruisers, fifty-two single stage to orbit craft, and an as yet unknown complement of solar-powered relay craft. The government is an extreme democracy. Flipping closed the folder he glances upwards at the now looming solar sails, the side catching the solar rays mirroring a blinding light, as it propels the fleet towards the looming system. Already some of the sails are being furled in order to minimize the amount of fuel expended by the braking rockets, the robots crawling the perimeter, taking in the edges which are reefed in preparation for yet another reefing operation, until the great gossamer micro-thin unit of steel filaments is stowed inside a great cylinder attached to the hub of the wheel. The shuttle decreased speed, the gee force now in the opposite direction, tending to pull him forward against his restraining harness. The spinning complex now appears to lose its spin as the shuttle compensates,the retro-rockets casting shadows inside the cabin as they light up the window frames. The reception committee consists of what appear to be brigands, long lanky hair stuffed into skull-hugging caps, sardonic, insolent expressions upon their faces. The ‘Alternate Executive’ of the extreme democracy extends his hand. "Polycrates at your service, your Excellency," he says with a gleam in his eye. "You are... ah, with the administration?""I am the administration, myself and five thousand others." "But I expected to be met by the..." At the meeting, ten of the Original Executives discussed with their counterparts proposals regarding the intended length of humanity's stay at the new star, who would have mining rights to which asteroids, would be it possible to land on any of the planets orbiting the star? Tribute was also discussed, as were patrol areas and what would be viewed as aggression. Agreement was also reached regarding escaped slaves and their return, a galling prospect for The Ten, as they were of the class of those usually enslaved by the alternates, all done in a thoroughly democratic way, mind you, he thought.
The return trip was made in gloomy silence. The presiding envoy makes a steeple out of the straight
fingers of both hands and then softly whistles a tune through them. One by one the members of the mission
look up as they recognize the patriotic air of the French Revolution-the Marseilles.
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