I use post 46-- the one before the post that just came out-- to buy more time on the collab >:)
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Vashonn
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This what I meant by...
EVENTS WILL SURELY BE ALTERED AND RELATIONSHIPS PERHAPS ADJUSTED
EVENTS WILL SURELY BE ALTERED AND RELATIONSHIPS PERHAPS ADJUSTED
The post is up, and before Yaz or Echo make a decision. I believe Tahlia should respond first and then Owen before the two others make their choice.
@TheMadAsshatter Do you want to go next?
@TheMadAsshatter Do you want to go next?
Days passed, weeks passed, or so it seemed. Within a new world, time cycled differently than it did on earth. But being locked away from the outside permitted little experience and exploration. Perhaps it was for their own good. Yet, this routine of waiting for an audience with the government that seemed to run galaxies, that waiting had finally came to an end. Because one day they did not wake up inside a cozy palace surrounded by islands of snow, instead they found themselves seated aboard a train that floated among a beam of light soaring through the sky. The ability of the train to do so was no surprise to the prisoners, similar technology had been created on earth. Yet that train trailed a path allowing for the view of a stone tower... taking them to that stone tower.
It was Mount Olympus, throne room of the gods, or so it seemed. Arranged in semi-circle were the five beings, each a single representation compacted into one monarch.
That was the Principality of Galaxies.
And this is real.
No more theories and suspicion of a sociological experiment. No more thoughts and suggestions that those so-called "Skull-men" could be men in costumes. None of that could come anymore. Even the word alien was best not used if these creatures were just as living, breathing, and thinking as they are.
The thrones were elevated on a curved platform and behind each throne was a mural. These murals illustrated a race's significance. Whether that species was famed for breeding warmongers or originators, it was displayed through the faded colors of a single painting. For one's own race to be a portrayal and depiction of a single action must seem quite intimidating and perplexing to grasp. Yet at least it was informative, pictures need no translation. And with that, King Owen and Queen Tahlia are spared a hint of the creatures they would be conversing. Well, that is conversing through their translator, Pseudo. As the Human monarchs trudge their way to the path towards the faces of the Principality, they notice a sixth throne. As they could perhaps recall Pseudo had mentioned only five alien monarchs, but their stood an empty seat of royalty with the mural behind it concealed by strokes of black paint- a cover up. No matter, that should not be a distraction, but rather focus should be put towards the matter at hand, the fate of the entire Human race.
Pseudo walked in front of Owen and Tahlia with Yaz and Echo following in the back. Once Pseudo stopped, the bot bent to his knees, kneeling in presence of nobility, to which it expected that those behind him would do the same. After the genuflect, Pseudo rose upward and instead facing the monarch, he turned around towards the crew.
"Before discussion is made of your crime,
King Owen and Queen Tahlia, the Principality is not convinced that you are truly the monarchs of Humanity.
No, another member of your colony has instead claimed role of king..."
The same massive metal doors that had just been released for the opening when Tahlia, Owen, Echo, and Yaz entered through, had again been moved to make way for yet another visitor, a familiar visitor. But his voice was far from familiar,
now it seem much more
distorted.
"Fall'n Cherube, to be weak is miserable. Doing or Suffering: but of this be sure. To do ought good never will be our task, but ever to do ill our sole delight... you fuckin' eejits."
He appeared before them, stepping out from the shadows behind the sixth throne. He chuckled briefly, and discordant tones crackled from his mouth.
"This bunch aren't familiar with Paradise Lost. You know who the protagonist is? Satan." Ailbeart Rend's face held a countenance that none of the crew of the Artemis had ever seen before - a wide grin spread across his face, his one unobstructed eye bulged down at them and his pupil flitted from person to person with an unprecedented energy. His hair, in contrast, was less lively, for only grey wisps coated his skull and they were altogether unkempt. He was dressed in some kind of blue robe that appeared somewhat skin-tight yet malleable, yet it pooled away from Rend slightly just before it touched the floor. Though he had lay supine, on the verge of death, maintained by machines and the fragile clemency of the crew, now the man was anything but. He had been reanimated from his corpse-like state, and stood to look down on the crew once more, only not from the heavens. If they harboured any questions of how, or who, or why, Rend answered gleefully by raising a hand to his neck and dispersing the (apparently not solid) material that had been a part of his robe. Underneath, the answers lay. Rend's skin grew taut between his chin and Adam's apple, and it stretched paper-thin where the first instances of metal began. The technological reparation of his neck then spanned six centimetres long and five centimetres wide. The metal did not allow any portal or gap through which the interior of the previously damaged trachea might be seen, but one can imagine the incomprehensible alien technology that now powered and maintained the breathing, and indeed the very life, of the one man who had so commonly mouthed patronising epithets against technological advancement.
"Although, I think I'd liken myself more to something like... Frankenstein. Oh, wait, he was the doctor - what I really mean is Frankenstein's Monster." The grin vanished from Rend's face, instead a brooding somberness possessed him. It was now clear that his violent encounter with Tahlia, and whatever had transpired when the aliens had ahold of his near lifeless body, had irrevocably changed the nature of his voice. He was no longer capable of vocal inflections or much variation in pitch. Though words full of menace and anger formed on his tongue, they conveyed themselves as monotone drivel.
"But enough about me," exclaimed the drastically different, robotically-augmented Rend, "I'm sure the Principality would like to know what a handful of would-be usurpers are doing here..."
Pseudo translated Rend's dialogue in terms and language the alien Principality would understand. In return, the deemed monarchy responded in foreign speech, however yet again Pseudo translates but now for the humans,
"They wish to know true allegiance, Yaz and Echo," the machine announced the two girls by name though they themselves had never informed him of such. This information was obtained through the Artemis, once it was cleared of the crew. It is obvious further investigation would undergo through scavenging the ship data. "Stand behind your monarch."
It was Mount Olympus, throne room of the gods, or so it seemed. Arranged in semi-circle were the five beings, each a single representation compacted into one monarch.
That was the Principality of Galaxies.
And this is real.
No more theories and suspicion of a sociological experiment. No more thoughts and suggestions that those so-called "Skull-men" could be men in costumes. None of that could come anymore. Even the word alien was best not used if these creatures were just as living, breathing, and thinking as they are.
The thrones were elevated on a curved platform and behind each throne was a mural. These murals illustrated a race's significance. Whether that species was famed for breeding warmongers or originators, it was displayed through the faded colors of a single painting. For one's own race to be a portrayal and depiction of a single action must seem quite intimidating and perplexing to grasp. Yet at least it was informative, pictures need no translation. And with that, King Owen and Queen Tahlia are spared a hint of the creatures they would be conversing. Well, that is conversing through their translator, Pseudo. As the Human monarchs trudge their way to the path towards the faces of the Principality, they notice a sixth throne. As they could perhaps recall Pseudo had mentioned only five alien monarchs, but their stood an empty seat of royalty with the mural behind it concealed by strokes of black paint- a cover up. No matter, that should not be a distraction, but rather focus should be put towards the matter at hand, the fate of the entire Human race.
Pseudo walked in front of Owen and Tahlia with Yaz and Echo following in the back. Once Pseudo stopped, the bot bent to his knees, kneeling in presence of nobility, to which it expected that those behind him would do the same. After the genuflect, Pseudo rose upward and instead facing the monarch, he turned around towards the crew.
"Before discussion is made of your crime,
King Owen and Queen Tahlia, the Principality is not convinced that you are truly the monarchs of Humanity.
No, another member of your colony has instead claimed role of king..."
The same massive metal doors that had just been released for the opening when Tahlia, Owen, Echo, and Yaz entered through, had again been moved to make way for yet another visitor, a familiar visitor. But his voice was far from familiar,
now it seem much more
distorted.
"Fall'n Cherube, to be weak is miserable. Doing or Suffering: but of this be sure. To do ought good never will be our task, but ever to do ill our sole delight... you fuckin' eejits."
He appeared before them, stepping out from the shadows behind the sixth throne. He chuckled briefly, and discordant tones crackled from his mouth.
"This bunch aren't familiar with Paradise Lost. You know who the protagonist is? Satan." Ailbeart Rend's face held a countenance that none of the crew of the Artemis had ever seen before - a wide grin spread across his face, his one unobstructed eye bulged down at them and his pupil flitted from person to person with an unprecedented energy. His hair, in contrast, was less lively, for only grey wisps coated his skull and they were altogether unkempt. He was dressed in some kind of blue robe that appeared somewhat skin-tight yet malleable, yet it pooled away from Rend slightly just before it touched the floor. Though he had lay supine, on the verge of death, maintained by machines and the fragile clemency of the crew, now the man was anything but. He had been reanimated from his corpse-like state, and stood to look down on the crew once more, only not from the heavens. If they harboured any questions of how, or who, or why, Rend answered gleefully by raising a hand to his neck and dispersing the (apparently not solid) material that had been a part of his robe. Underneath, the answers lay. Rend's skin grew taut between his chin and Adam's apple, and it stretched paper-thin where the first instances of metal began. The technological reparation of his neck then spanned six centimetres long and five centimetres wide. The metal did not allow any portal or gap through which the interior of the previously damaged trachea might be seen, but one can imagine the incomprehensible alien technology that now powered and maintained the breathing, and indeed the very life, of the one man who had so commonly mouthed patronising epithets against technological advancement.
"Although, I think I'd liken myself more to something like... Frankenstein. Oh, wait, he was the doctor - what I really mean is Frankenstein's Monster." The grin vanished from Rend's face, instead a brooding somberness possessed him. It was now clear that his violent encounter with Tahlia, and whatever had transpired when the aliens had ahold of his near lifeless body, had irrevocably changed the nature of his voice. He was no longer capable of vocal inflections or much variation in pitch. Though words full of menace and anger formed on his tongue, they conveyed themselves as monotone drivel.
"But enough about me," exclaimed the drastically different, robotically-augmented Rend, "I'm sure the Principality would like to know what a handful of would-be usurpers are doing here..."
Pseudo translated Rend's dialogue in terms and language the alien Principality would understand. In return, the deemed monarchy responded in foreign speech, however yet again Pseudo translates but now for the humans,
"They wish to know true allegiance, Yaz and Echo," the machine announced the two girls by name though they themselves had never informed him of such. This information was obtained through the Artemis, once it was cleared of the crew. It is obvious further investigation would undergo through scavenging the ship data. "Stand behind your monarch."
Ailbeart Rend
Hey if that is what you all are cool with I 'll just go ahead and start on that major post with the Principality...
Alright, it has been 5 days since someone has posted.
@SheriffLlama Are you still down to go next?
EDIT: THIS IS THE LAST TIME THE CREW WILL BE TOGETHER BEFORE THE MEETING WITH THE PRINCIPALITY. EVENTS WILL SURELY BE ALTERED AND RELATIONSHIPS PERHAPS ADJUSTED AFTER THE MEETING. IT IS ADVISE FOR ANYTHING YOU WANT TO BE SAID, IS SAID NOW.
@SheriffLlama Are you still down to go next?
EDIT: THIS IS THE LAST TIME THE CREW WILL BE TOGETHER BEFORE THE MEETING WITH THE PRINCIPALITY. EVENTS WILL SURELY BE ALTERED AND RELATIONSHIPS PERHAPS ADJUSTED AFTER THE MEETING. IT IS ADVISE FOR ANYTHING YOU WANT TO BE SAID, IS SAID NOW.
New post alert, thought it would be better to allow everyone to react to their new environment instead of brushing over it with one giant post. And it will give them time to discuss as a group.
At the very instance of Pseudo's departure, a flattened object of spherical shape-- something that appeared to be a thickened disc-- wheeled its way in rotation towards the prisoners. Once it fell flat on the cold hard ground, a beautiful thing happened... A cyan cloud transpired from a tiny opening at the center of the foreign object-- gas grenade. Owen, the king, curled in languid reaction, helpless. The last he recognized was the entanglement of puffs swirling in mad seductive dance, putting him to sleep. His body sunk deep with Tahlia's warmth enclosing on him as she had too folded beneath the contaminated air. Her faint body next to his faint body.
As for Echo, perhaps in those few seconds that she had in realization of the situation, she did reflect on the revisit. For a second time she experienced a sensation of intake and then slumber. This time it was in the form of gas, rather than a puny pill. Maybe she relished it.
It was a peaceful reminder of an anticipated death...
Yaz, poor thing may have cried if spared the chance. Every breath taken was spoiled, defiled-- corrupted. She was a young innocent girl when first joining the project. She wanted to be a part of a movement that swore preservation, though it swore with many circling secrets. The air was pure before adulterated.
With eyes closed, their darkness consumed them.
Light.
Light. They were awake now.
And in a different place.
Relief?
Maybe...
The king and queen awoke to discover themselves breathing again, but breathing together, right next to each other. It was a bedroom with the two pressed against a bed, one of massive size to fit virtually the most common creature. Well, even the most uncommon creature such as the man and the woman. Though the two were still dressed in the same clothes during the arrest, they could still feel the soothing heat of a fireplace. The room itself was rather luxurious compare to their previous cell. Hardwood floors and a door to the balcony was hardly something to complain about. Balcony, that was significance, it gave them a setting.
Once those doors were swung open, then she could at least be aware, and he at least wonder... more...
Because what lied behind those doors was the outside world, an alien world. But it did not seem alien, it seemed familiar, it conceived a distant memory, a reminder. It was chilling to away from a century sleep in the cryo-tank. And now, it was just as chilling to fathom yourself surrounded by floating bodies of ice knowing that your on one tiny island plagued as a wintry wasteland. And you are reminded of this with the stains of snow on every window you pass. Isolation, aren't you use to it?
Yaz and Echo were paired together in their own room, down the hall from where A room that appeared to be once for children. The two were laid on their own separate twin beds. But it was just as cozy as Tahlia and Owen's room, maybe even much more interesting as there were shelves. On these shelves were wooden figurines that appeared to resemble peculiar races that they are just destined to see. One toy could be identified as a Britheian. But was it ironic in how these figurines were placed in a circle with one creature in the center. In the coming, they will be that creature in the center.
Yet for the time being, they must cope with the message sent by their new bot friend, the Pseudo-Human:
"Greetings... again. You have been placed in a remote location for your sake of security. For the time now, I am preoccupied and there is no set date for my arrival, but I will return. And when I return you will present in front of the Principality. But I do apologize for the delay." The audio chip that was placed on the nightstand in Tahlia and Owen's room ends. What were they going to do in the meantime? What was left for them to do? It was up to them.
New collab has just been posted up and I'm working now on the next one. Alright so, the next post is really going to set up everything. It is going to give background to the planet the crew has just landed on and it will explain the details of the Principality. So please bear with me, but this is going to be a long one. Thus, it will take me a while to get it done.
Owen Childs & Tahlia Spade
Tahlia finished her partition of the bread and water; a little less than 1/4 of each. She was confident the others would forgive a slight transgression, but she wanted to ensure the others had their fair share. When Owen made his remark, Tahlia simply looked at him and shrugged. Her body hadn't rejected the food yet, and hopefully that would remain the case. She swallowed the last of her portion of bread and water, using the latter to moisten the former somewhat. It sort of helped to make the bread feel more like bread, but it didn't help the taste much.
The others took their time eating their portions when the ship shook a little, then settled. It seemed they had made a stop somewhere. Hopefully they would finally get some answers. A couple of the aliens reappeared, accompanied by another robot. This one, however, looked like it was modeled to very closely resemble humans. It seemed to glance between everyone before going up to Yaz and bringing her to her feet. On impulse, Tahlia stood up on her own immediately following. The robot introduced itself -if you could call it an introduction- once everyone was standing.
Owen pushed himself up to his feet to avoid having to deal with the second robot touching him. He rubbed his sore wrists and watched with suspicion as the robot gave its spiel. Principality, Britheians, Species Simulation, the words seemed stripped straight out of a last century sci-fi film, but it was the idea that humanity had a single monarch at all that struck him as the most farfetched thought. Even if the world had gone down the utopian route instead of the dystopic, destructive one it had followed, Owen doubted people would ever be okay with following just one girl or guy, especially one pretentious enough to go back to the whole royalty system.
Then again, maybe it was just a translation error.
A heavy silence permeated around their cell as nobody stepped up to claim the crown; he certainly didn’t want to assume a role that required him to defend humanity for a crime he didn’t even know existed. Owen refused to look over at Echo, because he knew that she would be staring a hole into him right now, and instead found his eyes lingering on his shoes. There was no way Yaz could handle such a role; she didn’t need to be scared even more by having responsibility forced upon her. If it hadn’t been for the incident with Rend, he would’ve slapped Tahlia on the back and pushed her forward. Now, he was just thankful that she was smart enough to not try and take out the aliens with the remainder of that bizarre loaf of bread. Benji was gone; Rend too. The robots unnerving eyes bored into him. He shook his head and stepped forward.
Tahlia, herself, looked back between the other crew-members. If Benji were there she would have put the responsibility on him. He had been out of the cryo pods the longest and may very well have known something the others didn't. She wished that Benji hadn't gone full retard on that other robot and gotten himself in trouble. Now, even by her own opinion, it was pretty much between her and Owen, and Owen wasn't having the easiest time keeping his wits about him before; Tahlia could tell that much. Of course, there was one more thing worth asking before committing to being humanity's representative, as it were.
“I guess that’d--” he started.
"We would like--” she started.
It seemed that Owen had the same idea. The simultaneous interjection prompted another moment of silence as Tahlia looked over at him. Perhaps he would be better suited for the situation, being a psychologist. “Go ahead,” she said, taking a proverbial step back.
Owen visibly grimaced when Tahlia deferred to him; there had been a second when she had spoken that he hoped she’d just take command and that would be that, even if he did have some reservations about her being their representative. Now, the pressure was back on him. Originally, he had been playing to say ‘I guess that’d be me’. However, something about Tahlia’s phrasing made him feel like that, now, would be the wrong thing to say. ‘We would like’ didn’t sound like a claim to the make-believe throne that was being offered to them; it sounded like an attempt to barter some information out of the robot. Casting a sideways glance at Tahlia, he cleared his throat and reset himself.
“I guess that’d depend. We would like to know why we’ve been charged with treason,” he said, standing upright with his shoulders squared. “And we need to know if our fellow crew-mate is still alive.”
Though not the direction Tahlia was planning to go exactly, it wasn’t the worst start. And despite how he seemed before, he seemed more in control at this point. Still, she wasn’t about to let her own question go unanswered.
“Once we know that, we would like to ask for legal counsel before we say anything else.” She folded her arms as she said this, hoping that they were actually in a position to bargain. Realistically, they really weren’t, nor were they even remotely in their league. Did this civilization even have lawyers?
“Such information has not been distributed to me..." It was an aid to them, he was an aid to them. Pseudo's structure is one partly modeled and referenced after male anatomy without seeming far too graphic and detail. As an attempt to be human he was still treated like such. He was well aware of the galaxy they have never been home to. But as for the state of the crew and of Benji, he knew only as much as they. "My programming and behavior is one built upon the research of human beings abducted. All information stored about your species has been discovered through experimentation and interrogation." He stopped, he mustn't continue with a subject that could be noted later, because for now the highest concern was that who would reign as mankind's monarch.
"However, further detail could be stated at another time. As for legal counsel... Put all faith in whoever holds the lordship. They will make the defense.
I do know of the Principality's current stance made with humanity thus far. A meeting was held in the meantime that the Britheians were making your arrest... The Principality has not made a unanimous decision. It is advised to be represented through a monarch. Although the decision of not having one still remains. Being without a monarch could do both good and bad for you. Good in a sense that the Principality will see how ill prepared you were for first contact, and that you are mere pawns for who sent you. There they will have mercy for you. But bad in that they will see humanity as savages and barbarians, anarchist even."
“Well, Sue, they wouldn’t be completely wrong,” muttered Owen underneath his breath, failing to hide his frustration as he heavily sighed. “You know, they did a real good job when they made you. Like most middlemen, you’ve been incredibly helpful.”
He wrinkled his brow. Was it better to be pitied than considered a threat? Although, judging by this whole treason nonsense, he figured it’d be more threatening to be considered uncivilized rubes than to be a dying race with some traitorous agenda that could, ideally, be explained as some great misunderstanding. Since it had to be a misunderstanding, unless that Voyager thing they launched into space actually made contact with some alien race and they got really offended by Chuck Berry’s guitar. He doubted it would actually work, but maybe there was a chance that he could possibly clear the air.
Or maybe he could get all of them shot out into space by running his big mouth.
First, he had to clear the air with somebody else, because regardless of what happened earlier he still respected Tahlia, or at least her opinions. He leaned over to the woman, lowering his head so that he could discreetly whisper into her ear: “Think you can bear with calling me Your Highness for a spell?”
It figured that the robot would only provide vague details that were hardly helpful, and unfortunately, pressing on the issue would likely do them no good at this juncture. Tahlia lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose at this, and was then addressed by Owen. She had forgotten how irreverent he can be, but she hadn’t honestly expected it at a time like this.
“This is neither the time nor place for flippancy, Owen. I’d appreciate you not getting us all killed, or doomed to slavery or something.” She sighed and considered the thought of them both acting in such a capacity simultaneously. Then again, were that possible, the robot would have probably mentioned it. Still, better to ask than never know. “Do you think we could both do it?” she first whispered back to Owen.
“Guess we’ll find out,” he whispered back, raising his voice as he turned towards Pseudo. “Fine, I suppose there’s no point in hiding it any longer. Tahlia is my queen, and I am her king,” he said as he put his arm around her shoulder in a piss poor attempt to sell the lie, hoping with every ounce of his body that it didn’t end up broken. “We’ll speak to your Principality. Together.”
Tahlia figured Owen would take it in that direction, but hadn’t expected him to go so far as to throw his arm around her. She tried to stifle her instinctual urge to throw his arm back off of her, and instead opted to tactfully pull away. “Please, keep it professional... my king.” Ughhh, those words tasted sour coming out of her mouth, but she hoped her lack of acting talent didn’t show.
Pseudo was unresponsive, frozen. After an awkward pause, the bot retain communication. "I have just been summoned... Received information classified." The message transmitted was one he was bounded to keep from them. Pseudo allied with Humanity, the race is the reason why he functions but he was created by other creatures-- they are how he functions. Thus limitations are maintained, along with the mystery that is kept. The imagination can only wonder what the secret was about.
"King and Queen however you say? Very well, it is not a patriarchy nor a matriarchy, but perhaps egalitarian. Such is... controversial with the male monarch weak to lean on a queen. A queen tied to do the same with her king. However, such power can be established before the Principality, and thus will. As for the time now, I must depart from you.
As a wanted species who could be potentially harmed by forces outside of the Principality for crime of treason. You will be escorted to and housed in an isolated location. I will soon reunite with you there when free from further duties."
The door behind Pseudo slid open as he began to make his leave, "Humanity, welcome... If I be the first to say." And with that he exited to leave the crew alone with themselves yet again.
Tahlia half-sighed-half-groaned at the turn of events and brought her hand to her face. “All things considered, I’m glad I’m not taking the stand alone, but the melodrama was hardly necessary.”
The others took their time eating their portions when the ship shook a little, then settled. It seemed they had made a stop somewhere. Hopefully they would finally get some answers. A couple of the aliens reappeared, accompanied by another robot. This one, however, looked like it was modeled to very closely resemble humans. It seemed to glance between everyone before going up to Yaz and bringing her to her feet. On impulse, Tahlia stood up on her own immediately following. The robot introduced itself -if you could call it an introduction- once everyone was standing.
Owen pushed himself up to his feet to avoid having to deal with the second robot touching him. He rubbed his sore wrists and watched with suspicion as the robot gave its spiel. Principality, Britheians, Species Simulation, the words seemed stripped straight out of a last century sci-fi film, but it was the idea that humanity had a single monarch at all that struck him as the most farfetched thought. Even if the world had gone down the utopian route instead of the dystopic, destructive one it had followed, Owen doubted people would ever be okay with following just one girl or guy, especially one pretentious enough to go back to the whole royalty system.
Then again, maybe it was just a translation error.
A heavy silence permeated around their cell as nobody stepped up to claim the crown; he certainly didn’t want to assume a role that required him to defend humanity for a crime he didn’t even know existed. Owen refused to look over at Echo, because he knew that she would be staring a hole into him right now, and instead found his eyes lingering on his shoes. There was no way Yaz could handle such a role; she didn’t need to be scared even more by having responsibility forced upon her. If it hadn’t been for the incident with Rend, he would’ve slapped Tahlia on the back and pushed her forward. Now, he was just thankful that she was smart enough to not try and take out the aliens with the remainder of that bizarre loaf of bread. Benji was gone; Rend too. The robots unnerving eyes bored into him. He shook his head and stepped forward.
Tahlia, herself, looked back between the other crew-members. If Benji were there she would have put the responsibility on him. He had been out of the cryo pods the longest and may very well have known something the others didn't. She wished that Benji hadn't gone full retard on that other robot and gotten himself in trouble. Now, even by her own opinion, it was pretty much between her and Owen, and Owen wasn't having the easiest time keeping his wits about him before; Tahlia could tell that much. Of course, there was one more thing worth asking before committing to being humanity's representative, as it were.
“I guess that’d--” he started.
"We would like--” she started.
It seemed that Owen had the same idea. The simultaneous interjection prompted another moment of silence as Tahlia looked over at him. Perhaps he would be better suited for the situation, being a psychologist. “Go ahead,” she said, taking a proverbial step back.
Owen visibly grimaced when Tahlia deferred to him; there had been a second when she had spoken that he hoped she’d just take command and that would be that, even if he did have some reservations about her being their representative. Now, the pressure was back on him. Originally, he had been playing to say ‘I guess that’d be me’. However, something about Tahlia’s phrasing made him feel like that, now, would be the wrong thing to say. ‘We would like’ didn’t sound like a claim to the make-believe throne that was being offered to them; it sounded like an attempt to barter some information out of the robot. Casting a sideways glance at Tahlia, he cleared his throat and reset himself.
“I guess that’d depend. We would like to know why we’ve been charged with treason,” he said, standing upright with his shoulders squared. “And we need to know if our fellow crew-mate is still alive.”
Though not the direction Tahlia was planning to go exactly, it wasn’t the worst start. And despite how he seemed before, he seemed more in control at this point. Still, she wasn’t about to let her own question go unanswered.
“Once we know that, we would like to ask for legal counsel before we say anything else.” She folded her arms as she said this, hoping that they were actually in a position to bargain. Realistically, they really weren’t, nor were they even remotely in their league. Did this civilization even have lawyers?
“Such information has not been distributed to me..." It was an aid to them, he was an aid to them. Pseudo's structure is one partly modeled and referenced after male anatomy without seeming far too graphic and detail. As an attempt to be human he was still treated like such. He was well aware of the galaxy they have never been home to. But as for the state of the crew and of Benji, he knew only as much as they. "My programming and behavior is one built upon the research of human beings abducted. All information stored about your species has been discovered through experimentation and interrogation." He stopped, he mustn't continue with a subject that could be noted later, because for now the highest concern was that who would reign as mankind's monarch.
"However, further detail could be stated at another time. As for legal counsel... Put all faith in whoever holds the lordship. They will make the defense.
I do know of the Principality's current stance made with humanity thus far. A meeting was held in the meantime that the Britheians were making your arrest... The Principality has not made a unanimous decision. It is advised to be represented through a monarch. Although the decision of not having one still remains. Being without a monarch could do both good and bad for you. Good in a sense that the Principality will see how ill prepared you were for first contact, and that you are mere pawns for who sent you. There they will have mercy for you. But bad in that they will see humanity as savages and barbarians, anarchist even."
“Well, Sue, they wouldn’t be completely wrong,” muttered Owen underneath his breath, failing to hide his frustration as he heavily sighed. “You know, they did a real good job when they made you. Like most middlemen, you’ve been incredibly helpful.”
He wrinkled his brow. Was it better to be pitied than considered a threat? Although, judging by this whole treason nonsense, he figured it’d be more threatening to be considered uncivilized rubes than to be a dying race with some traitorous agenda that could, ideally, be explained as some great misunderstanding. Since it had to be a misunderstanding, unless that Voyager thing they launched into space actually made contact with some alien race and they got really offended by Chuck Berry’s guitar. He doubted it would actually work, but maybe there was a chance that he could possibly clear the air.
Or maybe he could get all of them shot out into space by running his big mouth.
First, he had to clear the air with somebody else, because regardless of what happened earlier he still respected Tahlia, or at least her opinions. He leaned over to the woman, lowering his head so that he could discreetly whisper into her ear: “Think you can bear with calling me Your Highness for a spell?”
It figured that the robot would only provide vague details that were hardly helpful, and unfortunately, pressing on the issue would likely do them no good at this juncture. Tahlia lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose at this, and was then addressed by Owen. She had forgotten how irreverent he can be, but she hadn’t honestly expected it at a time like this.
“This is neither the time nor place for flippancy, Owen. I’d appreciate you not getting us all killed, or doomed to slavery or something.” She sighed and considered the thought of them both acting in such a capacity simultaneously. Then again, were that possible, the robot would have probably mentioned it. Still, better to ask than never know. “Do you think we could both do it?” she first whispered back to Owen.
“Guess we’ll find out,” he whispered back, raising his voice as he turned towards Pseudo. “Fine, I suppose there’s no point in hiding it any longer. Tahlia is my queen, and I am her king,” he said as he put his arm around her shoulder in a piss poor attempt to sell the lie, hoping with every ounce of his body that it didn’t end up broken. “We’ll speak to your Principality. Together.”
Tahlia figured Owen would take it in that direction, but hadn’t expected him to go so far as to throw his arm around her. She tried to stifle her instinctual urge to throw his arm back off of her, and instead opted to tactfully pull away. “Please, keep it professional... my king.” Ughhh, those words tasted sour coming out of her mouth, but she hoped her lack of acting talent didn’t show.
Pseudo was unresponsive, frozen. After an awkward pause, the bot retain communication. "I have just been summoned... Received information classified." The message transmitted was one he was bounded to keep from them. Pseudo allied with Humanity, the race is the reason why he functions but he was created by other creatures-- they are how he functions. Thus limitations are maintained, along with the mystery that is kept. The imagination can only wonder what the secret was about.
"King and Queen however you say? Very well, it is not a patriarchy nor a matriarchy, but perhaps egalitarian. Such is... controversial with the male monarch weak to lean on a queen. A queen tied to do the same with her king. However, such power can be established before the Principality, and thus will. As for the time now, I must depart from you.
As a wanted species who could be potentially harmed by forces outside of the Principality for crime of treason. You will be escorted to and housed in an isolated location. I will soon reunite with you there when free from further duties."
The door behind Pseudo slid open as he began to make his leave, "Humanity, welcome... If I be the first to say." And with that he exited to leave the crew alone with themselves yet again.
Tahlia half-sighed-half-groaned at the turn of events and brought her hand to her face. “All things considered, I’m glad I’m not taking the stand alone, but the melodrama was hardly necessary.”
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