It was another regular day. A boring day for John, perhaps
John leaned heavily on the wooden counter of a nondescript bar. He did not have to go to school at the moment, much to his pleasure. The building John was at was a bar, but the decorations that whoever designed the structure had implemented reminded John of a cafe. A cup of lemonade sat in front of John, keeping him company. A poster tube hung from his back, initially passing off as something harmless.
Man, he needed something to do.
John was on the verge of sleeping. He leaned forward, eyes threatening to close. His senses blurred, blocking out the noise that was made by the bar-goers. It would be pointless to resist the sensation, as it welcomed John into what would be the realm of dreams and fantasies. His face threatened to collide with the counter...
...and it did, with a soft thud.
John slipped away from the material plane, his consciousness slipping into the dark abyss of unwariness.
Suddenly, a loud voice would erupt, thus preventing John's descent into the world of sweet daydreams and unhindered thoughts. He slowly rose in posture. The noise came from beside John, and his eyes began to face the source of all the blabbering. A robot wearing some sort of medieval helmet was talking to a muscled man wearing an eccentric hat. John had no idea what the hat was supposed to signify, or to even be. Maybe a trophy the man had made out of killing a rare species of raccoon? John pondered to himself while maintaining his stoic expression.
"...immortal since if I get killed in this avatar body, I have a back up on my spaceship that I can wake up inside. However, you can't do this without having your mind uploaded to a computer. Now, you don't need to suck your brain out- thta is a myth, you just need to upload your mind which makes a copy mind that you can add to at your leisure, and just hook yourself up with a computer chip so that you are streaming your mind all the time. If your body dies, your mind doesn't! You just get transferred to a cybernetic body instead. You can be whatever body you want- I prefer being a humanoid since I was a human before I was stored into a computer chip and just like being a humanoid, you know. We all like being humanoids. So you don't need to stop being a humanoid even once you fully become posthuman. Don't you deserve better than your body?"
"Sounds like yer the one in a pickle here, fella. Seems right cowardly of ya, turnin' on yer own body like that."
His companions seemed to have reached an agreement with the outsider. Good. Ceraun had an impeccable façade as per usual. The only thing that worried Creft about this was that he now needed to account for one extra traveller among them. And that would mean the General would need to file out the paperwork unless Ceraun, Chayyliel or Drekavac was suddenly hit by inspiration to get them their required entry documents. Or alternatively they would not lift off with the stranger still on board. He'd have to check what they had in mind for him in the end.
But for now worrying about any of that was too early as they had finally reached the mansion of the three leaders of this planet. It was the fastest way to reach the supreme leader of the UFP, the president as they called them if Creft's memory served. He had heard that about three times, so there was little chance that he'd misremember at this point. In the mansion, he was quick to state the return of his entourage to the official that rushed to greet them and given they had already been here, most of them were allowed in without a second thought. Gavin wasn't quite as lucky. "If either of you have the patience, could you explain the situation to these people? I'll need to see if our friend has made any progress", Creft told the others and continued on with the bodyguards.
He was not surprised to find Drekavac pacing around the room impatiently, them having grown bored of waiting for the others even with their singular underling as their company. Creft nodded, sharing the annoyance at the situation. "I see no progress has been made thus far. I am not surprised. These people seem horribly inefficient. Do they even realise how much a space wide travel ban is going to hurt them?" He didn't say much more, but sat down and began waiting once again. The officials would eventually have to meet with them.
Drekavac whipped their head around upon hearing Creft's voice, a spark of hope in Their eyes that quickly disappeared when the General sat down. "A travel ban?" They questioned, Their voice deep and clearly annoyed, "How are we supposed to get back to doing what we do if we cant leave?" By the end of Their statement their voice had turned into a growl. The Akæn was usually much calmer, but Chayyliel was dangerously close to bursting forth, They handled anger better than Drekavac did. However, Chayyliel is not what They needed right now considering They were no good at diplomacy unless it had to do with battles of any kind, Drekavac handled everything else that Diplomacy covered.
"Any word on how much longer we have to wait? I fear that even my patience has a limit and I am coming dangerously close to the end of it," They stated before flopping in a chair beside Creft, "Do you know where Abasil is? He was supposed to be here ages ago as well..." Letting out a sigh, They crossed their legs and made a face, They were growing bored and chances were so would Chayyliel if They came out. Drekavac rubbed Their face and rolled Their eyes after a moment longer, "I am going to take a nap, wake me when you need me."
With that said, Drekavac seemed to melt away, black hair growing much longer and turning into a blonde color as their features became more feminine and metal seemed to spring to life across their skin. Ruby red lips pursed together and blue eyes narrowed, "I see that we have made no progress in being seen," came a feminie voice, light... yet slightly cold, "Is it custom to keep a Royal waiting? I would hate to see what would happen if I were truly here on a diplomatic mission. Maybe if I was it would have lit a fire under their asses."
Vasishka tolerated the Scroungers because the Federation demanded it. However, the Federation bore no patience of uninvited guests. Their sanctioned motto of every incoming alliance read:
“Sojourner beware.”
A simple translated Ygdra’ali phrase whose significance amplified since the emergence of prohibited flight from the Hub. Although a careful review of the Captain’s myriad of logs of undocumented visitors will proclaim little prosecution for those perceived as unwelcome. However, Vropda’s certainty, which was a coveted trait she continuously sharpened with every passing centisecond, lessened by the cursed consistency of the heavy expedition of the hinted Federation's official’s three feet based gallop. These same tripod sentries, famed to be challenged by previous unauthorized foreigners, could release cryptonymic automatons to not only exterminate said anomalies but to root their respective asteroid nest or home planet, and forever label their species as a potential threat in regards to future dealings.
All soon saw the errors of their meddling interstellar ways. Moreover, these couriers of stateliness were robotically immune to bribes and threats.
Fortunately, renegades within the Ragnarov Fleet were internally liquidated by the Council, if not rehabilitated for glorious compliance. Gavin’s value to Creft’s sister could not be smoldered, as she quickly engineered a travelling circumvention for the Aeon.
The techno-bureaucrat diplomatically soon infiltrated the space between Librom and Vropda, chirping in an analog tone, hoisting a tray, filled with sparkling metal.
“Chips, please!”
The Exoframe next to the gravity manipulator rapidly provided several collective passports, stamped with the Universal Nova’s encrypted seal and each individual’s genetic code, heralding almost complete and pervasive recognition amongst a multitude of galactic governments. Her sensors detected the finalized return of imperceptible, fluttering nanobots, quickly departing from the Trinity Scout’s scalp.
A specific whispered frequency to Gavin was emanated.
“Apologies for the formality of my slight physical intrusion. Our DNA and credentials must match, or they will sense foul. You comprehend, don’t you?”
The pentaped pen pusher, once finished with the identifications, issued virtual permits, called Demo-Cles (DC for short), that dangled above each Exoframe and their latest affiliate, announcing their allegiance to the Scroungers, the date of arrival, those comprising the Council, and a countdown for the planned duration of their excursion, which currently remained empty due to the travel ban.
"Welcome, citizens!"
“Good! Let’s seek Abasil, then. The prompts point to his presence nearby.”
Sivvy seemed to be ignored by the two men who had been talking about mechanized people parts. If they were going to ignore him, then he could just reciprocate. He waited till they were deep in conversation again and the bartender was looking the other way before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small tin case of green-and-purple pills. He popped one of his three remaining Vindix tablets into his mouth and sighed audibly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. The men next to him in conversation suddenly sounded like they were talking in slow motion. It. Was. AWESOME!
Siven stood up to his full lanky height, clapped a large, dark-skinned hand on each man's back once, and said, "EYY, mahn! You take care of youself! Sivvy want you to get along!" He sped out of the tavern at what seemed like normal speed to him, but to everyone else looked like a full-on wind sprint. He exited the tavern at full speed and smacked facefirst into one of the giant robots who had been escorting the large official-looking group. Falling flat on the ground unconscious, one eye remained open showing an extremely dilated pupil, one of the main side effects of a Vindix high.
John tiredly flicked through the pages of a worn-out travel guide. He was on Vasishka, a planet wherein the magical and technological mingled together. Far away, there would be Frixon Prime, a terraformed world filled with mechanical wonders and nose-bleedingly complex devices. Also separated from Vasishka was Ecetopia, a planet filled with wonders magical and arcane.
Was the land he called Kiarath actually known as Ecetopia to the common folk? John did not care at all. All the crazy stuff that had happened in the past would be better off to be considered as a dream. A very elaborate dream. Suddenly...
"EYY, mahn! You take care of youself! Sivvy want you to get along!"
Some weird man (@Mistiel) had just screamed right at the two people robot and the cowboy with the weird hat (@Arawak and @0Z) who were sitting beside him. He then proceeded to run out of the bar in a rushed sprint.
Gee, that man had almost broken John's composure.
"Rastafarians on this planet must be very noisy."
John, having finished his lemonade, decided to walk out of the bar. Maybe he would find something interesting to do?
As the group passed by the local tavern, Ceraun held back a little. "I am needed little in your diplomatic endeavors, General. I shall investigate the local populace. Perhaps find more... allies to join us. Call me if you need me!" She had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when a man hastily crashed into one of the Scroungers. As the bodyguard whipped his chaingun to the intruder, Ceraun stepped forward, placing a hand on her ally's rig. "Oof... that looked like it hurt. Oh wait. I remember you... General, Captain, please carry on. This man needs my attention.
Ceraun knelt down before him, examining his state while muttering her diagnosis to herself. "Elevated cardiac rhythm and synaptic response. Dilation of the pupils. Hm." The diagnosis was simple enough. Unless her xenobiology needed some finetuning, this man was under the influence of a hyperstimulant, as well as a fairly sizable cranial contusion. Ceraun reached inside her medical bag, fishing around for an emergency depressant, then affixed it to a device that appeared to be a hypospray, and placed it to the man's neck. Slowly, the pupil's dilation returned to normal as Ceraun closed up her bag. She placed a hand on the man's newly-forming bruise and focused as a stream of healing energy flowed into him.
Finally, she shook the man awake. "Hey, buddy. You took a nasty header there. Might want to lay off your boosters, hm?" she suggested as she stood up, offering a hand towards him to help him to his feet. "Looks like I caught you after all. Didn't even need to waste fuel. You are absolutely atrocious at hide and seek, you know?"
The only good thing about his situation was that when Sivvy woke up, his Vindix high remained pleasant and vibrating right behind his eyelids. Unfortunately, in front of those eyelids was a blue-skinned face staring at him, shaking him even. "Awh sheeet mahn, eet's you! I's thoughts you were zome pirates weeeth tha mec-mecs." Some pirates...a horrid realization dawned on him. He had killed a band of pirates, the whole lot of them. Those mechs...those mechs....he hadn't thought they were pirate mechs, he had somehow thought they were police. His mind thought that they were there for him, the guilt seeping into his unconscious mind.
All of this flashed through his head in layman's, exceedingly simplistic, terms as the drug still mostly held sway over his thought process. He eyed the other person slightly more acutely now but not much. "Ah guess Ah should be on way then, eh?" He grinned jovially, getting up and sauntering quickly off down the street unevenly underthe opiate's haze.
The streets of Vasishka were rather quiet and calm. John sat on a metallic bench, reading the travel guide he had managed to secure. According to the travel guide, Vasishka was home to many different races. Businesses thrived, and cultural diffusion was very common.
Suddenly, he sensed something ominous.
John stood up from the bench. He turned backwards and was met by a glare from a short-haired woman, who was presumably another traveler. He could presume that from her outfit, which consisted of a rugged jacket (Another jacket? Wow.), a belt, and a pair of khaki pants with an awful lot of pockets. However, he could sense the woman's intentions. She seemed to be intent on observing him through her dorky round glasses. On top of all that, she had a sword strapped to her belt. John wasn't the only swordsman in the vicinity. Without a doubt, John approached the mysterious figure. He slid up the small book up one of the inner compartments of his jacket and began to speak:
"Hey, d'you need anything?"
"N-no. I just happened to p-pass by..."
All of a sudden, John caught the sound of hushed footsteps from not far away. Somebody was approaching, slowly and steadily. John could feel the other man's presence, for he did not only use his eyes, but also his raw instinct. His eyes began to glow a light blue, and wisps of energy began to levitate upwards. Quickly, he re-positioned himself. The lady seemed to be worried, and she attempted to get John talking.
"I-is anything wrong?"
"Indeed."
Out of nowhere, the other man finally showed up. He was jumping right at John, holding an electric staff right up in the air.
"BOOKAYASH-"
John had already positioned itself in a way so that if anybody were to come at him, they would be facing his side. He had channeled destructive ki to all parts of his body, and when the other man came jumping at him, the ki would travel to his foot. He would then counter with a high kick aimed right at the attacker's hip:
When the foot would connect, the ki would do its trick. The attacker would be sent flying away.
John turned back to the lady. She had unsheathed a knife, and headed towards him. John was not in the mood to bust out his sword so he decided to ram the woman with another ki-charged punch. The woman would most likely be sent flying away as well.
But she didn't.
In fact, she did not only have a knife in hand. When John's fist was midway in meeting with her face, she opened her palm, revealing a neatly folded paper talisman. She was holding the knife only using her fingers, so that she could open her fist, which eagerly clutched the talisman. The knife was just there to lull John into a false sense of security. She then used her palm to catch John's fist. Once the paper talisman met with John's fist, he would feel the impact of the punch shift in position. He felt it creep up towards his chest. The woman, on the other hand, would feel nothing.
"It's pointless. I've analyzed your style of fighting from your fancy trick. To try hitting me with a closed fist would be suicidal."
Finally, the force of the punch had finally shifted in direction. John was sent flying backwards.
John's flight would soon be stopped by a force that hindered his movement, but only for a short moment. A dark-skinned man tumbled over, serving as John's body cushion. The two people fell down on the ground. They rolled down the street for a moment before coming to a halt. Surprisingly, the unwary savior had been the noisy druggie (@Mistiel) that John had seen in the bar earlier. John sat up and shook his head.
"Damn."
During the collision, John's jacket was shaken. The travel guide flew out of it, and it went towards a nearby blue elf-woman's (@JBRam2002) face.
Ceraun watched as the man walked away. On one hand, she felt like she should follow him to ensure his safety. The man was clearly unwell, and his self-prescribed medication didn't help matters. On the other hand, Ceraun cared more for her direct allies than for an individual who didn't request her assistance. She wondered if she should have given him a higher dosage. Perhaps the crash would have woken him up from his self-imposed stupor. In either case, he had wandered away far enough that it would be a hassle to follow. Should he wish to request her assistance, Ceraun would gladly oblige.
In the meantime, a flying travel guide interrupted her reverie. After it had thoroughly bonked her in the noggin, she picked it up off the ground and found its owner, also lying on the ground. Ceraun bent forward, offering her hand to him. "A bar fight? This early in the day?" she said with a smile on her face. "You don't seem nearly drunk enough for that."
At that comment, she realized that her charity had held her for too long. "If you would excuse me, I am needed for a very important meeting," Ceraun added as she hurried after her long-gone allies. After a few steps, she had finagled the jetpack's cord to connect to the port on her neck, and took off flying several meters above the ground. Perhaps it was not the most subtle method of approach, but it would definitely be the fastest.
Alarms blared within the diplomatic quarters, while the Exoframe belonging to the sister of Creft confirmed several novel logs, intermittently upcoming in her stellar news stream. The suited female watched, with labyrinthine tubes humming, for the response from their governmental host.
After providing the activation of the Demo-Cles, the UFP’s robotic courier suddenly stood perfectly still, unwavering, in lieu of the sirens until the last bell had finalized its analog dirge. The automated sentinel then soon pivoted and ogled Gavin and Vropda once more initially, then paraded its façade of eye contact around the sector.
“Citizens, the travel ban is lifted. If your presence is not required here, the Federation strongly urges your departure while free travel remains.”
Multiple alien languages ensued, repeating the information and ensuring equal opportunity linguistics for all present, cognizant of the seemingly impulsive repeal of the interstellar embargo. Vropda seized vantage of this discontinuity, involving ACASIAS to deliver encrypted text messages to each of her superiors: Ceraun, Abasil, Chayyliel/Drekavac, Nick Zelthis, and her brother, the General.
“Brethren, the verses of influence never disappear; they lie dormant, awaiting those with the will to palpably rouse them. Though this galactic sanction has been rescinded, this sporty derby still mandates a political audience from us, of which I tire already. The Council is the face of the Scroungers; I am but a lowly trigger finger, bent on pressing buttons if not constantly straightened. For this, I will leave to our bright refuge of a million sons.”
The missive’s limit was reached, requiring a second pause before the ordinal diatribe continued.
“And daughters. The Universal Nova. May the causalities of this power struggle not die in debate, but disperse as a memorial to our glory. From the crust to the core, kindred.”
End of transmission.
The digital epistle would be perfectly intimated in the Captain’s voice, rendered by the multifaceted talents of their sprawled yeast-based AI.
Awaiting for the ascertained delivery from all the intended recipients, the female Scrounger pirouetted jerkily in front of the gravity manipulator, her visor savoring a grim smile. Home is where she exhumed a decent graveyard of drone runts for further experimentation.
And strangers can vanish without awkward questions.
“Sir Librom, apologies for the schizophrenic undertakings. This is our chance to embark from Vasishka before truth becomes rumor. Are you ready?”
"...and then he said 'I am the Viper. I am here to vipe and vash the vindows!' Ah ha ha!"
The vixen gave an obnoxious chuckle, mirrored by the older men at the bar of Pan'Zel Cabra. Not the most ideal of places, a hole-in-the wall joint in the Recreation Hub yet deeper in not to be noticed. The atmosphere was a mishmash of offworld traditions, with the heads of a number of strange animals sporting more nostrils than eyes hung menacingly on the faux-oaken wallpapered iron taken from the scrap of an abandoned ship. "Rustic charm" they called it. Certainly better than "hell-hole dive". The clientele was pretty sparse but Nick had gotten lucky when he found a trio of old fools that looked as if they were there every other day yucking it up and telling off-color jokes. Pretty simple targets, he figured. Good for chatting up, scoring some free food and drinks, and killing time. Not like he could get drunk anyway, but it was a pretty decent way to destress after a long day doing nothing but playing the waiting game.
The talking heads had wanted to take him on-world "just in case" someone needed something a little less gentle in scope. Or legal. Nick wasn't really good at doing anything else. So of course he'd be stranded on Visishka with nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs. While the Scroungers were off on political business, him tagging along for a while incognito just as instructed, it became increasingly apparent that his involvement wouldn't be needed and his usefulness didn't even go so far as a show of force, let alone security. Not like he could touch half these brutes by what he'd seen and he wasn't able to smuggle a magshot past customs without swallowing it in... pieces...
Huh. That might be worth a try next time.
But back on topic, Nick left to let the important individuals take care of their high-profile political business while he wandered off and found something to entertain himself with. Which just so happened to be a trio of lonely old bastards that would go gaga over any set of ample assets that gave half a glance their way. Na'greth clearly. The rocky exterior gave it away Hustling them into joining their meal was fairly simple, he just acted lost and pretended to be super interested in every last thing they had to say and they hooked him up with something strong and some fried pyettal taken from their own plates without even spending a cred. But then an angel graced his own ears, a heavenly chorus without equal in poetic beauty...
“Citizens, the travel ban is lifted. If your presence is not required here, the Federation strongly urges your departure while free travel remains.”
Freakin' finally! He could get off this rock! Not that he hated staying there, but it was no surface leave. Being on a short leash took the fun out of everything. He half-contemplated just disappearing into the crowd and hitting the star road, but he was jacked in. They'd find him and put a bag over his head and then the needles. Screw. The needles. As if on cue, his comm vibrated with a flurry of activity from the Captain herself. Nick had to hide the chills it sent down his form as he acted surprised to see the device come alive.
"Oh? Oh, I am sorry! I need to take this! I'll be just a minute~" he cooed with a voice of honeydew. "Take your time, darlin'. No hurry back," one of the fools reassured him. Blowing a kiss, Nick hefted his luggage and swayed his hips to the men's room with his dress fluttering behind him. He was pretty certain they weren't paying attention to the most important part. On his way in he ran into a taller, bugeyed humanoid with pointed ears giving him sort of shocked stare as he washed his hands. "The fuck you want, B? Ain't seen another guy in a bathroom before?" challenged Nick in a deep voice. The lithe one sputtered and feverishly turned to drying his hands, clearly in a hurry to escape the situation. Nick smirked devilishly while taking a stall to answer the text from Vropda in his usual casual tone.
Cant read ur message, came out in gibrish lol
Nick switched his commlink to visual mode to submit text with the input from his retinas as he changed back into his more comfortable form. The pain was as uncomfortable as it was every time. It's not a pleasant feeling to feel your arteries shift as your bones re-calcified and warped inside your own skin. The shapeshifter took quivering breaths as he tore his own blond hair out to be replaced by his "natural" brown lockes, visually typing all the while. All was going well until his nervous system was set upon by fire ants. Not really necessary, but he felt he could use a little extra protection just in case someone tried to put a slug in his shoulderblades for what he was about to do. Doc's barrier was pretty good about that.
Im thinking that means "go to the dock were done here". Whatev not like Im doing anything anyway. If any FEDs ask you about some bodies on 278 and Fey'lan with bite marks in'em I didnt do it.
After a time Nick was admiring his "real" face in the mirror again, scrubbing the makeup off his face with the crappy papertowels. It'd probably be wise to invest in some sort of transmogrifying sorcery for that part and even some glamoured clothing, but Nick kept forgetting. He'd probably need to lose it somewhere along the way anyway. Running a hand over his chin before grinning to himself, he decided that he'd gotten it all and walked out with his bag slung over his shoulder. With a brazen attitude he strutted back over to the bar where his companions of the day were still seated and placed an arm on the cool iron.
"Hey, I had a pretty good time today! I'm sooo glad you handsome fellas could spare a little hospitality for lil' ol' me!" he sang in the silky tones he had given them earlier. Nick winked to the dumbfounded morons as they searched their feeble brains for an answer. "If you ever wanna hang out again, just look me up. Ah ha ha!" And on that note the Endovan took to swaggering for the door. "...YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT WAS-!?" "AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAH!" Nick was having a hard time catching his breath from the shear hilarity of the situation, stooping over to laugh his ass off on the footpath. Still softly chuckling to himself, the shapeshifter wiped a tear from his eye as he pulled a coffin nail from his jacket pocket and began to amble toward the spaceport where on his way "home" for lack of a better word. He'd take his time. Not like he was looking forward to getting back to work anyway.
Text message response going out as a group text to @Zverda, @Hekazu, @Gordian Nought, @JBRam2002, and @Big Dread. Happenings at Pan'Zel Cabra privvy to anyone who was there or anyone in the street.
It felt like an eternity. Nothing notable took place after the travel ban had been lifted for the longest time, something that only served to irritate the General further. Could these people not do anything right? If even diplomacy was so inefficient, how would their production fare? Had they as pressing a need to survive as Scroungers, they’d be dead at this rate, no second thoughts about it. “Remind me again, your royal highness, just how long have these excuses of a government kept us waiting?”
Chayyliel looked at the general with a raised eyebrow before smirking, “I would say that they have kept us waiting for the past five hours,” they replied, “Five hours without offering us so much as a drink or something to snack on. Rather rude wouldn't you say?” The royal’s raised eyebrow came back down to rest in its usual neutral position as blue eyes narrowed on the door they had been waiting to open.
The exoframe of the general strained itself to replicate the sound of a natural creature’s sigh as the General shook his head at the answer he had received. “So an approximate eternity for all I care. Five standard hours down the drain, ugh”, he complained, tapping his sharp fingers against his leg. “But as things are, we cannot help but wait for their inefficiencies to finally figure out that the people in their lobby might be of the important sort.”
”Might be? One of us is a General and the other a Royal that is known to blow a few things up when angry,” came the oddly chipper response.
“That does not mean they have realised it”, Creft interjected. “They don’t seem to be the most orderly folk.” Of course, most of the Scrounger’s opinion was formed from what he had seen in the last few hours, but you only get a first impression once.
“A first impression they have wasted gloriously,” came the retort, arms crossed over a metal covered bosom, Chayyliel rarely ever wore much else as their living metal made itself into a rather impressive set of armor. Flashy… not very practical.
“Agreed”, came the General’s reply, after which he leaned back in his chair, moving the rapping fingers from his exoframe’s thigh to his forehead. It was unnatural for someone of his race to be wasting so much time, as had become clear by now. But the cause demanded it to happen, so he couldn’t help but comply to giving UFP officials the time they were taking.
Ceraun arrived, fashionably and uncharacteristically late. She smoothed her hair back and noticed the grumpy looks on the faces of the general and royal before her. “Sorry for the delay,” she apologized as she rushed forward. “Someone fell flat on their face right in front of me, knocked out cold. I had to stop. What did I miss? Are we official yet?”
“I wish that would be the case”, the General groaned at the arriving chief of medical facilities. “What you have missed amounts to nothing.” As he had said those words, however, pieces finally started falling into place. The doors at the other end of the room swung ajar slowly, a single humanoid walking to the waiting lobby.
“The council of Vasishka will now meet the individuals that have identified themselves as ‘General Ogni Emethel Haw'kohd Dis'nahm Bi'ahni Lawga Ormo Pohmpus Da'nit Ar'edi Iz Creft’, ‘Chayyliel-Drekavac Mikhailov, child of Sergei-Ari and Magdalena-Kristoff Mikhailov, second in line for the throne of the planet Elysium and first in line to the throne of the country Bastillus’... and ‘Ceraun Farohm’, all of formerly unrecognised ‘Ragnarov Fleet’”, the android declared in robotic voice.
“Finally…” Creft stated and rose to his feet. “We have the Ragnarov Fleet to represent, fellow members of the council. Let’s do ourselves proud!”
Chayyliel stood up and made a show of dusting their hands off on the metal greaves they were wearing, a compressions suit showing where skin normally would. “It's about time,” they growled out, following behind the General as they made their way into the meeting chambers.
“Gods, I thought I had seen the last of diplomatic delays. You were here for hours!” Ceraun shook her head with annoyance. “I sure hope that this is worth it. I could be experimenting with that boy’s abilities right now.” She sighed and followed the others into the chamber, ensuring that her words remained outside the doors. With any luck, this meeting was a mere formality.
@Circ - The entourage of diplomats sent by Ragnarov Fleet have been received in a collaboration post
Much to the dismay of the Ragnarov Fleet delegation, it was not a member of the board or even the president they encountered when they arrived in a conference room lit through its walls with an airy and comfortable ambiance. However, an appropriate toady was at their disposal and authorized to engage in the bureaucratic and legal niceties necessary to facilitate the dismissal or satisfaction of their manifold demands. At first glance, the windowless room was furnished merely with a translucent white table, round and wide enough to comfortably accommodate all members present; however, as the UFP representative began to recline, a comfortable chair materialized beneath him. He gestured that the others in the room do the same if they so desired.
“Please, make yourself comfortable. Did you enjoy any of your native refreshments from the matter dispensers in the lounge?” he began and, from the looks on their faces, quickly ascertained an answer in the negative. Thus off to a solid start, he segued to a more relevant and substance-oriented query. “Let me apologize for the apparent disarray and maltreatment of foreign dignitaries. The board wishes it could have sent a member or, perhaps, the chairman himself, but one of our industrial planets was recently attacked and as such all senior government personal are preoccupied with damage control and the defense of the United Federation of Planets. However, I, the undersecretary of foreign affairs, have been temporarily elevated to the station necessary to negotiate a treaty with your government which is, as I understand it, your purpose here today. Now,” and at this he glanced at a thin sheet of marked e-plastic on the table, “it appears the first order of business is the establishment of an embassy. Very good, very standard. There is an assortment of sites in the capital for you to lease or, if you prefer it be off-world, you can deploy an embassy module along any of these orbital trajectories.”
He tapped his finger on the table, slid something to the side, and made a gesture as if he was flicking something their way. A moment later, the table lit up before the three Ragnarov Fleet members with the details. “Whether you choose to be neutral, allies, or enemies, it is in everyone’s best interest to maintain such an embassy, as it guarantees a line of communication. Feel free to contact us at your leisure with your preferred selection. But yes, relationships. Which brings us to the second item on our agenda. You want to purchase planets from us. We don’t trade with hostile powers, so I can only assume you wish to be allies. You will find before you a standard contract of shared interests of foreign powers. Boilerplate stuff, like if one of our citizens commits a crime in your sovereign space, they are granted legal aid by a representative of their own state and visa versa. You don’t attack us, we don’t attack you. A rather mundane affair. If you wish to engage in any trade with us, you’ll need to commit to that treaty.”
The "boy with the abilities" was in a similar predicament himself. That being bored out of his skull. On his long meander back to the Nova he found himself become increasingly distracted, mostly by the gnawing hunger. Both literally and metaphorically. Nick chewed on the filter of his cancer stick as his stomach howled in starvation, he hadn't filched enough food from the troupe at Pan'Zel Cabra to even warrant the trouble... almost. He had stolen two things while present: a multi-pass from one of the unlucky Na'greth and the genetic makeup of the same. Technically three things if you counted the beer-battered... whatever it was. Something crunchy and savory, Nick didn't ask too many questions. But it was enough to procure more. Food, resources, it didn't matter. This was his way. Start small and worm your way to the top of the heap, leapfrogging faces and credentials until you sat in a seat waaaaaay outside of your paygrade. Even that didn't matter, of course. The higher echelon had granted him a blank check to enjoy what he would on landfall as incentive to keep him in check, because he knew to them he was a simple creature. A beast, something that enjoys being rewarded and remained docile as long as you feed it a steady stream of treats. Some creature that would stand on its hind legs and hop about when you told it to dance. But that was the problem. Nick was a beast alright, and they'd be stupid to think that they could control him. That was the other hunger.
The shapeshifter sucked in a lungful of smoke as he could feel his skin bubble and bleed beneath his clothing. It felt as if someone had poured acid over his dermis and the man grimaced and hunched as he walked, allowing the sensation of agony to wash over him as the blood began to scab and calcify. Stoneskin, a rough exoskeletonous hide that the Na'greth had evolved to grow. It wasn't nearly as painful as what came next, as his muscle compacted with rivets of pain and his bone melted to reform thicker and squatter. He had become one of them, the poor soul who's passport he had stolen back at the restaurant and he hadn't even stopped walking. The crowd either didn't notice or didn't care, the change was gradual enough to take place over minutes and no one got a good look at him twice. Nor would they. Nick rarely took a face other than "his own" twice.
He ducked into another restaurant, this one called Drakma's Buffet purely because of the B-word involved. Assuming a swaggering walk, the shapeshifter strut himself up to the counter of the vaguely multi-cultural joint. "Fixin' ta get my hands on one of them buffet passes," the Na'greth greeted with a jolly tone, beaming at the lanky green lass with pointed ears. "Excellent, table for one?" she inquired. Nick nodded in affirmation, and soon was following the long-legged vixen to a single booth next to the wall. The air was ablaze with all manner of scents intoxicating. Simmered seafood, fried greens, pan-seared meat of questionable origin... Nick's mouth was salivating at the thought of it. If he played his cards right he wouldn't even need to pay at all, but for the moment he was shown his seat which he promptly vacated to grab a plate stacked two hands high with all manners of caloric sin. And went for seconds. And thirds. And beyond.
As he choked down the smorgasbord Nick began to do a very dangerous thing to anyone involved: he began to plan. Nick had been a good boy for a scant few weeks, which might as well have been decades. He hadn't tried anything funny, no biting the security personnel, not even an escape attempt. Boy was that about to change. The Endovans were still very much psychologically primitive, and as such he still had a prey drive. The basic need to chase and be chased, the thrill of the hunt that wasn't being fulfilled. Which was why he was about to shake things up as soon as he stepped aboard. The gears began to turn as he polished off another plate, feeling the pangs of starvation faster than he could wolf down more sustenance. He was getting looks at this point but it's not as if he cared. Nick had larger matters to attend to. More important matters. Seeds of chaos to sow.
___________
Nick was back to his old self as he entered the spaceport hours later, the one instance where he needed to specifically be himself to gain access somewhere. His face was on his own passport. Pity, that. It'd be so much more engaging to fake someone else and just filch theirs than to arrive as himself, yet this was the path of least resistance. Nick patiently stood through all the scanners and monitors and gate checks as he prepared to board... and quickly got sidetracked. All part of the plan. The buzzing hub of activity was just like any other, full of diversions and activity to take advantage of. The shapeshifter made certain to hit up the shops for a few key items before attempting to board the Nova: a glass bottle of perfume from the duty free gained through subversion and clever fast-talk, a handful of exotic hair pins from the gift shop, a nice pair of shoes from the clothing pavilion, a commcorder from the tech exchange, and as many condiment packets as he could get a hold of. It wasn't much, but it'd be a start. Something more metal and spiky would help, but good luck finding that in intergalactic jurisdiction. Nick would need to make due.
The anticipation was immense as Nick prepared to board, nonchalantly walking toward the crewman and raising his arms in a non-threatening gesture. "Biological freak, reporting as ordered," he joked as the two soulless homunculi approached him with a steady gait. One took his bag, the other patted him down with a rough hand on his collar, controlling his escape and momentum. As they should. The guard aboard the Nova were trained to regard Nick as a threat when alone. "Business," the handsy one stated through a distorted filter in an aggressive tone. "Boss says I'm free to board the ship, we've got nothin' left here for me. You should really spend some landfall down here, there's a good steak place down on Val'culla." As the shapeshifter made small talk the other goon had apparently finished rifling through his bag, finding nothing that could be weaponized or made harmful. To an untrained eye, that is. It nodded toward the other one, which pushed Nick toward the hatch. Its partner chucked his bag behind him.
As Nick gathered his belongings he couldn't help but notice that the grunts weren't preparing for takeoff. Oh, this was perfect. Nick flicked his commlink into hands-free mode once more to send out another message to his crewmates/employers/slavers.
dont tell me im the first one here where is every1?
The question was innocuous enough, but everything was riding on its answer. It was either going to be the perfect sendoff from this rock or a spoiled afternoon. Or a bloodbath, anything was possible. A grin began to tug at the creature's lips as Nick awaited his answer.
Nick has borrowed Stone Skin, and NPC genetic predisposition toward a tough, scabby hide resistant to physical harm by mundane means such as punches or blunt weapons.
Chayyliel was relatively quiet when the representative spoke, but it was rather clear that they were not happy, made even clearer the moment they opened their mouth. “So not only did they make us wait 5 hours before even considering to send someone out, but now we are listening to someone who doesn’t even really have any real power? You have got to be kidding me! The least you could have done was sent out one of those blasted androids or whatever to tell us FOUR AND A HALF HOURS AGO that there would be a damn hold up! But n-” The female side of the Akæn was promptly silenced when the General opened his mouth to address them, for some reason it seemed they had enough respect for Creft that when he was about to say something they fell silent.
Creft listened to what the UFP representative had to say for them, but they couldn’t get too far before one of the Akæn had one of their trademark outbursts. Not having encouraged them to turn back to Drekavac might have been a mistake, something the General attempted to fix. “Your highness, I consider Drekavac to be more suited for this task. They have a certain talent with… not threatening people during peaceful negotiations.” Having said that to his companion, he turned to the official: “Deeply sorry about that.”
Chayyliel gave Creft a sideways glance before scrunching up their face, arms crossed under their chest. “I guess I can accommodate your request.” they said, their shifting of gender nearly seamless if not a little creepy, ”Huh, usually there is more of a fight… Then again this definitely isn't a war council.” As Drekavac spoke, golden metal oozed over his arms, followed by a near black colored metal.
Creft nodded and voiced a simple “Thank you” to the fellow diplomat before being interrupted once again. The text ACASIAS delivered to him hurt his head, so the sender of it was already quite clear. “ACASIAS, please make this legible” he requested of the computer, who delivered after a quick comparison between the text messages usually sent by Nick and the responses to them. The message went a little something like “Are you suggesting I am the first to arrive? Where are the rest?” The computer had undoubtedly gone a bit further than needed, but at least now Creft could answer. "Vropda should be on her way. Do not do anything stupid. By stupid, I mean anything I would call stupid, since your own sense of judgement is not to be trusted."
With that intrusion out of the way, Creft returned to the negotiations at hand. “An orbital embassy would be best in our interests, as they are less commonly threatened by renovation work on planetary surface.” While that was part of his reasoning, it also allowed for much more regulated traffic in the vicinity and allowed them to install self-destruct measures in case of potential information breaches without endangering peace treaties. He then made a gesture signalling that someone else could speak, not wanting to hog all the decision making for himself as that could be judged as ‘improper conduct’ back in the next council meeting.
Ceraun leaned back in her chair, somewhat bemused by the negotiations going on before her. She wondered how this primitive society had become the main political power in this corner of the galaxy, but she assumed it simply meant the other members of this so-called Federation were weaker. As Creft gestured for another to speak, Ceraun leaned forward again and cleared her throat lightly. “Indubitably, the discussion of compensation will inevitably find its way to the forefront. We can provide the necessary resources and labor to construct and maintain said embassy, and request in return the free flow of scientific information between our peoples. We would also request that our people be allowed to travel to our embassy freely from the surface at all times, even during periods of flight grounding as you recently demonstrated. We further request that the embassy be free from embellishments and security devices installed on your behalf as they may interfere with the delicate operations of our computer systems. Surely these terms should be more than satisfactory.” Ceraun smiled sweetly at the official before them, silently wondering the cranial density and how much force would need to be applied in order to not have to deal with this asinine blathering much longer.
“I would prefer it if it was strictly our people and our devices at all times,” Drekavac murmured, “Alliances are all fine and good, but we all know that sometimes things go wrong and the last thing we need is someone with a grudge on the inside. While it could just as easily happen with our own, at least we would be able to take care of it ourselves rather than having to go through another embassy just to make sure they are properly taken care of. Or risk that embassy just letting them off scott free because they were passing messages upon request.” It was clear that the Akæn did not trust those outside their own fleet, not that they had much of a reason to trust anyone else to begin with. They were already a bit strange by conventional standards and their race was known for sticking its nose into different affairs, who was to say they didn’t have an enemy somewhere simply because of what they were?
Creft couldn’t help but tap Drekavac on the shoulder before leaning forward in his seat and sharing his opinion on this matter: “To begin and maintain a friendly relationship, it is imperative that we actually communicate. Having an embassy open for just that is… well, mandatory.” Having (hopefully) made clear that they were not building a closed off spy satellite, the General responded to the inquiries regarding trade of planets. “And yes, we would also very much like to remain on friendly terms as of now. There is no use for either of us to go waving guns in the face of the other. However, as per the protocol set by Fleet council, I will need no objections from my fellow ambassadors here to establish this treaty. Your highness, Ceraun, do you consent to forming a peace and identification treaty with the United Federation of Planets, on the terms currently laid out?”
“Never said we wouldn’t be open to communication,” Drekavac replied to Creft, “Just that I rather not have anyone but our own in the cogworks. My meaning must not have been very clear. However, I consent to forming a peace and identification treaty with the UFP… as long as our terms are agreed to and met.” While the male side of the Akæn wasn’t usually so stand offish, it was clear they were still not very pleased with how long they had been forced to wait, it never pleased them when hours were wasted on waiting when other things could be done.
“You needn’t worry so much, Drekavac,” Ceraun replied soothingly. ”I am sure that the UFP will handle communication with the same level of dignitary and expeditious conduct--” her expression remained motionless despite an abrupt cough from the General punctuating her sentence “--that they have entreated us with today.” The doctor raised an eyebrow towards the Akæn pointedly before turning her head back towards the representative whose name she had already forgotten. ”Despite my severe misgivings about the nature of this Federation and their level of respect for us, I agree that we approve this treaty should they accept our terms. I pray my trust is not misplaced.”
The representative quietly sat at the other end of the table while the Ragnarov Fleet delegation aired their thoughts, some rather colorfully. Occasionally, he pressed his stylus to the table and annotated the contract. The requested changes appeared on each of their respective copies with a highlight that made it obvious what was new.
“All that sounds reasonable,” the representative nodded sagely after they were finished, “Although there are still some points that could be served by further elucidation. Naturally, the UFP is pleased to hear that you wish to construct your own embassy using your own materials at your own expense. However—and I say this just to avoid the potential for miscommunication—you will see in your contract that the UFP requires its own representatives, architects, and engineers on site to monitor the embassy's construction and ensure all building safety codes and material import restrictions for orbital structures are satisfied.”
He glanced at his notes and frowned.
“Scientific information available to the general public via our extranets will obviously be accessible by your government. Anything beyond that is not something we would immediately accommodate and joint research projects would be negotiated on an ongoing needs basis.”
“The supervision of such a construction would take far too long,” Ceraun replied simply. “We do not wish to inconvenience your crew with such a monumental and time-consuming chore. However, we have an Embassy-class ship that we would need to provide some minor alterations, such as removing offensive armaments or classified material." She gestured haphazardly, showing an air of dismissive uncaring. “Once we have done so, I invite your inspectors to look over the ship as thoroughly as they desire, and we shall accommodate code requirements as specified. If you provide them ahead of time, we can further reduce the time your team will waste."
Ceraun glanced through the document before her, selecting various offending sections and bringing them to the attention of the official. "And finally, you stated that you do not wish to share research? As a scientist first, I find this a sad revelation." Ceraun sighed as she folded her hands on the table before her, seemingly taking on the appearance of a schoolteacher. She spoke patiently, her voice alluding to factual explanation rather than patronization, although her mental processes tended toward the opposite. "Our databanks contain petaquads of information regarding star charts and geological data of thousands of worlds outside your system, plus the cultural specifications of hundreds of intelligent species your government has never dreamed of, plus their technological achievements, military accomplishments, and other very pertinent data. The public information is a mere start. If your cultural leaders wish to gain the knowledge we hold, we shall need a quid pro quo. Until that point, our data remains confidential."
“I am inclined to agree with the Doc here, if you will not share your research with us, we will not be sharing ours with you,” Drekavac stated calmly, “It is a real shame as well seeing as we have managed to synthesize many different medicines thanks to the information that we have received. Maybe you can persuade them to share their information with us so we can share ours with them? It is only fair after all, no alliance can work properly if only one member is sharing information. After awhile it becomes entirely too one sided.”
