I am sitting on the shore of the Fongian Bay on the planet Ferra sipping on my favourite drink, a pale purple-hued water from Comet C-789: a hint of ammonia tinged with a whisper of orchids. I have been hired to meet with a certain Loran the Third, a politician of some note, about the disappearance of his daughter and her subsequent reappearance on the arm (actually, the third predorsal anterior appendage) of my client. In Loran the Third's culture, family relations are sacrosanct and the whereabouts of daughters, particularly as regards the arms on which they are seen, is a matter of some importance.

At the appropriately slightly late moment, designed to show a due regard for politeness but with a whiff of mild disrespect, Loran the Third appears. Bipedal, claws on hands and feet, eight feet tall, reptilian but feathered in jet-black plumes. An impressive specimen. Beaked, so the accent will need to be listened to carefully.

Loran bows, left arm on right shoulder: the correct form. Let's keep things nice: I repeat the gesture with significant politeness. Ah, a blink, so the nuance was noticed.

You are here in the matter of my daughter?

Yes, with respect.

She is significant in my household. Sole layer of eggs.

Let's show some common ground. I too have only one offspring.

Humans are not the same. So not making this easy.

My client is conscious of the effect of your daughter's departure.

Blink. So it's poker.

He recognizes that you have suffered a loss and he is anxious to right this state of affairs.

Blink.

At the same time, he would prefer to maintain the current relations between himself and your daughter...

Blink.

... particularly since she is now the bearer of an egg which he has fertilized.

No blink. Her value has now gone up or down, but will Loran say?

After a long silence, Loran turns one eye to me, gazes fixedly, and speaks.

Members of my species are impressive, by any standards. I nod. We have, however, one weakness: the period during which we can produce viable young is not long. In my case, it has reached its end. There will be no more offspring after my daughter.

I try a first, safe, gambit.

In my culture, damages to honour or enjoyment are sometimes repaired by monetary recompense.

Loran replies sharply: Then you have a cold and monstrous culture, to mix hearts and coins. What manner of being would engage in such soulless transactions?

We call them lawyers.

Let's try another tack. We also have the practice of righting a wrong by means of some act that counterbalances the wrong. Is there such an act that my client could perform?

Loran blinks twice. There may be hope.

Your client is of a young age?

He has just attained maturity and looks forward to several decades of full enjoyment of all his faculties and powers.

He has many spouses and concubines?

He is exceptional for his species in having chosen only one: your daughter.

Another double blink.

And they have fertilized an egg together, you say?

Yes.

Then here is my final proposal. For the remainder of their lives, all fertilized eggs from their union are forfeit to me.

But this means that they will not see their offspring!

True, but to ensure parity, neither shall I. On arrival on our planet, the eggs will be sacrificed. This will be done in a respectful manner and will occasion no pain since eggs are not yet sentient. In this way, your client, my daughter and I will be bound in a common and equitable state of affairs. I will welcome them with open arms when next we meet and we will talk of gains and losses.