Although I hadn’t said so to Finn, I knew that getting a meeting with the Lotaran Exhibition Director was going to be no simple matter. The Lotarans are not known for their openness and the man himself is reckoned to be as unapproachable as an angry bear in a locked safe. But I’ve always found bureaucracy to be like a particularly stubborn puzzle: exasperating, sure, but infinitely rewarding once you crack it. And, as Finn had pointed out, I did have a lot on my side, most notably from my University on Geldee Prime, which was sufficiently far away as to render normal sub-light communications impossible and this matter being sufficiently unimportant in the grand scheme of things to merit the extra expense of ultra-light speed comms.

First, I had to manufacture the reason for my approach. A random scholar wouldn’t get past his assistant’s inbox, let alone through the fortified walls of his sanctum. No, I needed a pretext that would both appeal to his vanity and resonate with his hyper-organized, regulation-obsessed brain. Thankfully, my credentials as the Provost Particular of Chronological Aberrations, Temporal Distortions and Anomalistic Continuums are unimpeachable and almost in an appropriate specialism.

I spent the better part of two hours fabricating a letter of introduction. It had to appear as though it originated from the esteemed Geldee Prime Lodge of the Interstellar Society of Antiquities, specifically their (actually, non-existent, but never let the truth get in the way of a good story) Lotaran Historical Division. The Society’s stationery is famously ornate, so I digitally re-created it down to the last intricate seal, watermark, stamp and border insignia. The content itself? Pure gold.

I opened with a formal greeting dripping in obsequiousness:

_“Most Honourable Director Shalan, Custodian of the Lotaran Legacy, Preserver of Our Intergalactic Heritage…”_

This was immediately followed by a fabricated invitation to collaborate on an upcoming symposium to celebrate “The Evolution of Lotaran Cultural Implements Through the Ages - Unpicking The Unknown With The Known.” Now, I had no intention of hosting such an event, and no such event existed, but I know from long experience that academics, and particularly this academic lived for this kind of nonsense. The opportunity to swan about and condescend are an irresistible draw. Throw in some obscure but plausible references to Lotaran history, as cunningly sourced from their own documentation and I was all set.

Still, the paperwork alone wouldn’t be enough. Bureaucrats also love verifying credentials. This is where my credentials from Geldee Prime came in handy. While real, they needed a touch of embellishment. I added a glowing endorsement from the Dean, of the University and from several Professors Emeritus of other Universities who were, purportedly members of the Geldee Prime Lodge of the Interstellar Society of Antiquities and my introductory package carried enough weight.

So, We had the ‘who’ and the ‘what’ now I needed the ‘why’. This bit was the pure flight of fancy. I had to make up a reason to get hands onto the Shard itself, which is the trickiest part. The Lotaran Exhibition Director wouldn’t allow anyone, however credentialed, to waltz into his display and start handling relics. My reason needed to be academic, urgent, convincing and, perhaps most importantly of all, a little flattering. Fortunately, I’ve made up enough funding applications for research projects over the years that my brain slicked into a comfortable overdrive.

First order of business, appeal to Shalan’s pride in the artefact’s supposed uniqueness. The Lotarans are deeply territorial about their cultural heritage, and their reputation for scholarly exactitude is almost a religion. They live by it. To the point of boring lesser mortals to death with their endless pontificating on rusty, dusty old tat. If I could suggest that this artefact was not only of great value but also, hint, tantalisingly at a _larger_ discovery, which Shalan could be instrumental in unveiling, we might well be in with a good chance.

So I wrote the story:

During my “research” into Lotaran artefacts, I explained, I had come across an obscure and largely forgotten archive on Geldee Prime (entirely fabricated, of course). Within this (mythical) archive was a record of an artefact described as _remarkably similar_ to the unclassified, possibly religious item (our Shard) currently in Director Shalan’s care. The archive referred, in translation, to it as a “Chrono-Catalyst Key” and made tantalising but cryptic notes about its role in long forgotten and only scantily recorded “interstellar time-binding practices.” A dramatic phrase, hinting at religious overtones, which is always the archeologist’s ‘purpose of choice’, and one I thought would pique his interest.

The supposed Geldee Prime Key had been lost centuries ago, none of the records were clear about how. Either stolen, destroyed, or misplaced, depending on which record one believed, but, and this is the crucial hook, the extant archeology hinted that the existence of this Key hinted at the strong possibility of a _set_ of such artefacts. If true, this would place Shalan’s Key as part of a larger cultural and scientific puzzle, potentially rewriting Lotaran artefact history.

I highlighted that such a find could elevate the standing of the Lotaran Historical Division within the Interstellar Society of Antiquities and wider interstellar anomalistic continuum research. Prestige like that would surely grant him access to extensive additional funding, publications and hence more influence, and a place in the Society’s hall of fame. Just the sort of drivelling recognition academics like Shalan had wet dreams about.

I topped the whole saga off with our fabricated purpose:

_“In order to confirm this hypothesis and ensure that the Shard is, indeed, a Chrono-Catalyst Key, I must conduct a series of detailed examinations.”_

I added that the process required specialised equipment that I would personally bring to the site, including a portable “temporal resonance scanner” (note to self, get Finn to obtain something suitably flashy but pointless from one of the many tech stalls). The scanner, I explained, could potentially reveal micro-chronometric signatures, evidence of the artefact’s supposed time-binding properties.

But here’s the genius bit: I didn’t frame this as a test of whether the Key _was_ important. I framed it as a test to confirm that it was as singularly significant as he already hoped and believed it to be. People like Shalan can’t resist having their beliefs validated by “impartial” experts.

To close the argument, I wrote:

_“Should my hypothesis prove correct, your stewardship of this artefact will not only gain you personal acclaim but solidify its place as one of the galaxy’s most significant historical discoveries. I would be honoured to assist in this endeavour.”_

__

The last paragraph was such a revoltingly blatant effort to blow sugar up Shalan’s rear end that I almost barfed and deleted it. But still...

It was all utter nonsense, of course, but the best stories are the ones that sound just plausible enough. And It was one of the Shards and so the gist of the story was sort of true. Sort of. Oh yes, and, of course, flattering men who already have an inflated opinion of themselves seldom fails to achieve the output you need.

I fired the entire package off to Shalan’s assistant and went to meet Finn.