Caroline - Engineering
"Affirmative," Bobby said to Linda, and turned around to face Arij.
"My memory banks do not contain all known data regarding the Nation of the Zehir, and due to capacity limitations have the information required to operate normally. Language, sufficient biology to avoid accidental poisoning and apply first-aid, ergonomic specifications for equipment, and anatomical information to avoid handshaking the wrong body part. Cultural data is unfortunately minimal, not for storage issues but to test learning algorithms and functionality."
He hopped into a chair at an unmanned terminal. "Additionally, Quartermaster, this is the Engineering Bay."
Space Colony Tranquility, Sol System
"The true particulars would best be left for our subordinates at the contract table," Rufus replied. "Though if you have a personal recommendation for which plants and animals you prefer the Norb to buy, I will relay that information to the appropriate Acquisitions Unit in order to increase the desired quantities. But at the general level, an exchange of flora, fauna, and expertise for metals, materials, and machined goods is agreeable with you, correct?"
She tapped on her necktie, fluffing it like a pillow. "And then of course, there is the matter of the Galactic Nations and the security of this station."
The Jiptohr male never took his eyes off his opponent as he circled about. Claws flexed in eager anticipation, ready to strike at the bare flesh before him the moment the opportunity arose. On the other side, the second male likewise encircled his rival, hissing and snarling and goading the other to make the first move. Unblinking eyes watched for a sign, that one moment where one's side guard was let down and the striker would surge forward with all his fury and might. Or, rather, what remained of all his fury and might. Both were breathing heavily, the challenging roars had become hoarse and short. One was dragging his left leg, the result of an injury sustained earlier. The other had a swollen eye.
They had an audience. Hundreds were crowded into the dark chamber, their own shrill shrieks creating a din that smothering all other noise. Support for one side or condemnation for the other spewed forth nonstop from almost every mouth. Everywhere was dark save the center, where harsh lights followed the two fighters every move as if as enraptured as the audience.
One moved in and slashed. The other leaped back before crouching and springing forward, claws extended. Duck, turn, strike! Again, neither made contact. Now they were circling again, almost chasing each other, so close as to touch snout to tails. At the same time they both pounced, a flurry of claws and muscles slamming into each other before dropping down and wrestling on the floor. They separated, scrambling back to their feet and trying to regain their bearings while snarling at each other to ward off any oncoming charge. And charge one did, springing towards his opponent with claws reaching out. The other leaned forward, maybe to duck, maybe to launch a strike of his own. Either way, his neck was now in line with the claws of his attacker. They struck, grazing the right side of the neck. Blood seeped down to the floor, the crowd roared, and the ref blew his whistle.
The angry outcry of the audience was greater that the cheers and jeers from just moments earlier. The lights of the stadium came back on, revealing an audience of hardcore fans attired with headbands, shirts, and paint either green or orange depending on which fighter they were a fan of. Others waved small, paper flags showing who they supported. Two other referees leaped into the ring and interposed themselves between the fighters, though the one who ended up needing to be restrained was the coach for Orange corner after the rulings were decided. The fighters themselves limped back to their respective sides and took the moment to rest.
A ref made his way to the arena center and spoke into a mic impeded into his mouth. "Illegal Move: Strike above the neck!" he announced. "Penalty towards Gwerzumu!"
Orange coach went ballistic, so did the Orange fans, and lightyears away, so did a certain Verandi captain.
"That is bullshit!" Solaris thundered at the holoprojector. "He jumped right into that! There was no way Gwerzumu could pull back! He probably did it on purpose just to steal points!"
On screen, Orange coach looked to be saying something along similar lines, as he was now arguing with two referees. The Orange fighter, Gwerzumu, did not seem to be paying attention to the controversy he had caused, instead helping himself to water provided by two other Jiptohri who the screen identified as his brothers.
As the people of the galaxy came into contact with each other, in was inevitable that cultures would meet, learn, clash, and exchange. Some things species found in common allowed them to interact more readily with each other. The old adage that music was the universal language was a truism even the Norb could appreciate. Likewise, nearly all civilizations had a game involving kicking a ball between two sides, and half of them had intertwined rioting as a national pastime. Other things, while not universal, did manage to carve out a niche for themselves among species they had not been intended for. He-Tai hang-gliding, half-sport, half-dance, had turned the stubbornly ground hugging Knotarians into "buffalo wings" as a certain species joked. The action-adventure shows developed by the three species of the Triple Alliance were a breathe of fresh air for the slow and deliberate Amalah. And what exactly the Snailians did with the civilian issue rightning gloves Rakashians sold them in such large numbers was not something the galaxy really wanted to know.
Jiptohr mixed martial arts had a huge following in Verandi. The discipline and grace combined with - in Verandi eyes - bursts of unexpected animal savagery made it exciting and unique with just enough familiar traits to make it accessible to humans. Many, like Solaris, had their favorite fighters and anticipated their matches with the eagerness of children awaiting their birthday presents.
And that was how Solaris ended up sitting on one of the sofas in the Caroline lounge near the cafeteria, with snacks and beverages scattered on the table below the largest holoscreen the ship boasted. The captain had been especially gleeful since, traveling through Norb space, they had secured the showing of the match already translated, courtesy of an NMTV broadcasting ship, long before those back home would even see it. Many other crew members were also in the lounge, most of them watching the fight, waiting to use the big holoscreen next, or just hanging out with nothing better to do until the Caroline exited FTL space.
The match was starting up again, Solaris, still grumbling, sat up straighter. "Come on, we can still win this!"
edited 19th Aug '14 3:19:15 PM by Parable
For the Horde!
Caroline
Maros felt very strange about leaving the navigation computer running by itself. He had to be assured several times that it would be fine so he could actually take a break and not work himself to death. It was probably for the best; human computers were more advanced. An Ashkathi ship's navigation computer had to be constantly maintained and monitored or else it would deteriorate the course, and it was rigid and inflexible in how it plotted said course.
But now, Maros sat in the lounge, listening to the captain's shouting and getting excited over... a form of Jiptohri combat? What was so exciting about two outsiders fighting? He had to remind himself; on this ship, he was the outsider. He thought a moment.
The Ashkathi Union also consumed pop culture, contrary to popular belief. Mostly, however, they cultivated nature documentaries and movies about other nations' cultures. Maros did have one guilty pleasure though: operas. He had listened to the songs of many different cultures, but the ones that fascinated Maros the most were the ones from Earth's past. He was currently doing research on Terran operas on his datapad, and he ended up at a link to an entire page about Gilbert and Sullivan operas. Intriguing, he thought.
I can still hail the Horde even though the company has shamed us. Strength and Honor even if Blizzard has neither.
Attitude is prohibited
[Tranquility]
Mnhiri leaned back in her chair and thought for a moment, rubbing her chin. "An intriguing proposal." She said. "Yes, I can see how that would restore a great deal of confidence in the GN..." She paused again, then leaned forward. "I, too, have heard that Empress Tanis and Queen Amelia are fairly close. However, I also know that Her Royal Highness does not particularly care for Sol, and with the attack still fresh in everyone's minds, her advisers would almost certainly convince her to avoid the visit, even if the Queen was going."
Briefly, she was quiet again, staring hard at her desk before looking back up at Tebigon. "But, if we can show that the security of this compound really is a non-issue, then the Advisory Board won't be able to raise that objection. From there, it should be fairly easy to convince the Empress to visit. Between her father's pride in this institution and the prospect of seeing the Queen, I'm confident she'll come, especially if I present my case well." A small smirk briefly appeared on her face. "And, of course, I will present it well." The smile vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. "At any rate, we must still remove the security doubts for this plan to come to fruition. One way, or another..."
She look around at the many small, wooden houses around her, searching for her objective. The darkened sky above her, always cloudy, blocked and distorted the sun's light, casting unnatural shadows over the shattered remains of the little village, almost hiding the red shade of the stony earth she walked on. Even so, there was still a certain beauty to the place that she couldn't help but notice. "I guess this could have been a nice place to live, at some point." She muttered to herself. "Before I got here, anyway." Walking up next to a well, she caught a glimpse of her reflection, and paused her casual stroll through the destroyed settlement.
She was fairly young, and as she ran some fingers through her short, boyish, lavender-coloured hair, it was clear that she was probably still in her teens. She brushed some dust off the black, one-piece, aerodynamic suit that covered her body, up to her neck, and which broke its smooth, seamless appearance only for the slate-grey Directed Antigravity Thrusters on her upper arms, calves and back. She leaned over the edge and stared into her reflection's eyes, or at least, she stared at what was hiding her eyes; a mask or a visor, of sorts, that covered her face from her eyebrows to the bridge of her nose. It even covered her ears as it wrapped around her head. It was opaque, black and made from the same light, durable, flexible and as-yet unnamed material that her suit was made out of, and it hid her eyes completely. It almost looked like some kind of blindfold, but anyone would know from the way she was moving that it was not.
She smiled, halfheartedly, the stopped and sighed. "Back to work." She grumbled, resuming her walk. She found her target only a few steps away, and reached for the hilt of the sword that was sheathed and hanging from a small loop at her hip. "Wait! Wait! Please!" Said the target, as she walked closer to him. "You don't have to do this!" She watched the tears stream down his face. He didn't have anywhere to go; he was trapped.
She stopped walking when a familiar crackle sounded in her ear, followed by a voice. "Striker 1, Command. Status report." Said the voice. She sighed quietly. "Command, Striker 1. Mission in progress." She said, sounding rather impatient.
"Please." Begged the target. "Please. They won't know if you let me go! Noone will know! Please... Hey... W-what's your name?"
She froze for a moment. "Odd question." She muttered, perhaps slightly unnerved. "I'm... Miyuki..."
"Striker 1, Command." Said the voice in her ear. "External audio detected. Whoever you're talking to, stop it" She scowled at this. "Need I remind you of your mission objective? Clear the scavengers' village, Striker 1. No survivors." She said nothing. "Do you comprehend, Striker 1?"
Miyuki whipped the scimitar-like blade out of its sheath, and the target started screaming hysterically, begging incoherently. "Yes sir." She growled, through clenched teeth. She raised her sword...
Cut to black. Opening credits.
[Caroline - Lounge]
"Holy shit!" Murmured Linda, staring down at the screen of her datapad as the opening sequence of the anime she was watching started to play. "That's one hell of a way to start a series." She was sitting at a table on the opposite of the lounge from the captain, wireless headphones in her ears as she watched the opening credits fly by, interspersed with various characters in various scenes doing various things. She hadn't noticed yet, but a handful of other crew members were looking over her shoulders, also watching with great interest. They didn't hear the audio, of course, but Linda had the subtitles on, so they at least got the dialogue.
Not entirely dead.
Sweet Caroline
Bobby knuckle-walked his way into the lounge from the kitchen. In his left hand he held a bucket of popcorn and he carefully walked towards the holoscreen. It was amazing how courteous these humans were, they seemed to give Bobby a wide berth and plenty of room to walk, despite being a lowly engineer. Protocol indicated that for these sorts of social events, bringing snacks was considered the proper way to act. Due to his physical and sanitary limitations, preparation of the item known as "nachos" was not feasible in the given time frame, but the creation of popcorn involved only one ingredient, a bucket, and a heat source.
He set the bucket of popcorn down on the table in front of the captain, and nodded. "Captain. This unit has initiated party procedure. Please, enjoy the snack which I have brought as a show of camaraderie and friendship."
THE SLORG!
Blue looked at the rat like alien as he posed his question, a small part of him wanting to spit out an immediate answer but held his tongue; not only because it would be unbecoming of a proper Diplomatic caste member, but because this was a GN ambassador he was now speaking to. How to answer then, puzzled Blue's thoughts for a few moments. Faked approval, or the truth? After weighing what facets of the problem he could remember at least for the moment, (which to be fair was about all of the significant ones) he settled on truth.
"I intend not" Blue said in response to Rrroriksix's question as to whether or not he'd take a replica home. "As nearly faultless as the craftsmanship is, and the accuracy of the likeness, in appearance that is, I'm afraid this statue would send the wrong kind of message both to my children and my business rivals as to how I picture myself in my organization. I am a speaker, a negotiator, a business man, many things, but one thing I am not, is a soldier. Much less one who would wield such a weapon" Blue responded at length, then turned his gaze back towards the statue.
His attention was actually once again towards trying to hear anything else the other onlookers were saying; he had finished speaking about in time to hear the Ashkathi ambassador mention their beliefs on the 'Songstream'. Blue's eyebrow twitched in barely hidden curiosity, since this sounded not too different than the Grexians' own beliefs.
Plenty of the crew were off duty. Hrof, as those few who had so far even tried to get to know him, seemed to have no idea how to be off duty properly. In what time he wasn't sleeping or eating or using a restroom, he was usually in the gym, or running himself through drills, or in his room writing up all sorts of contingency plans for various dangerous situations the ship could end up in. Some of them included if some sections or positions amongst the crew turned on the rest; every single one of them had Hrof himself on the captain's side, whichever side that was.
Hrof had attempted to direct the rest of the security personnel into training with him in drills in their off duty time, just like he did. This had of course failed, as the majority of the security on board would rather spend their off duty time much like the captain was currently spending her own.
Going back to the present, Hrof was currently 'off duty'. This meant he was not in his armor, though he did still have his pistol and some spare magazines on him; instead he was wearing a plain gray t-shirt with plain gray matching pants, an outfit which he apparently owned two of, that made up the entirety of what he had to wear besides his suit and a pair of black military style boots, which he was also currently wearing. (Grexian Military caste are actually allowed to personalize the colors of their own off duty clothes too, but Hrof's favorite color is gray anyway.) He walked into the lounge, having been directed there in search of the captain, holding a clipboard with yet another one of his contingency plans written up on it, which he had been intending to show her and get her approval signature on. (This one being something about rapidly growing and reproducing alien organisms that defied current known biological science infesting the ship.)
However, after walking into the lounge and seeing that the captain was currently busy watching something on the holoprojector, Hrof had stopped and turned around to leave; his own ideas of how to spend free time may have seemed bizarre to the rest of the crew, but Hrof had quickly learned that the rest of the crew generally didn't like getting their free time interrupted.
edited 15th Aug '14 6:06:14 AM by FirockFinion
You are reading this.
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The Caroline
Having bounced back to the bridge after saying something cheerful to Bobby, Arij made her way to the lounge after finishing the checkup she wanted to do. There she nearly ran in Hrof in the entrance.
“Oh, oops,” she said, “I do apologise.” She stopped in her tracks and looked at him quizzically. “I don't think we were introduced, Mr Greyman. What's your name? Where're you from?”
THE SLORG!
Hrof took a sudden step back to avoid running into the short alien as she walked through the door, and he looked down at her with a fairly blank expression. "Hrof, hired security" Hrof answered simply as for who he was. He hesitated a moment on the question of where he was from though. "... I'm from Nomad" he said after the pause, answering with the planet Grexia was using as the front for their mercenary operations.
You are reading this.
Dreams of Revenge
Tranquility — Azunn
The guard tried to conceal her annoyance, but didn't quite succeed, her muzzle wrinkling briefly before she left.
As Riyad entered the large, airy office, Azunn rose from his black leather chair to his feet, followed shortly afterward by his bodyguard. Standing side by side, the differences between the genders would have been starkly evident to Riyad: she made Azunn look very small, and the bodyguard's sinewy body contrasted sharply with the ambassador's almost dainty frame. The pair were flanked by two Sirian Union flags, and behind them was a grand old bookcase positively groaning under the weight of the tomes it contained. Riyad might have noted the presence of the book Meditations on War, widely considered the Sirian equivalent to humanity's The Art of War and On War. The book was bound in a handsome hard cover, though only the spine was visible. More eyecatching was the motley collection of model starships that had pride of place on one of the shelves, ranging from old stalwarts of the Sirian fleets to the most obscure experimental designs hailing from little known states.
"I wish I could disagree, but you're entirely right," said Azunn, his expression one of disappointment as he idly ran a hand along the glossy surface of his desk, tracing the outlines of several panels that sat flush with the top. "I fear that when they look at us they do not see a society of scholars, entrepeneurs, peacekeepers, and more. Only bloodthirsty warriors."
The white furred Sirian shook his head. "But never mind that, I doubt you came to listen to my complaints. What brings you here?"
Locking you up on radar since '09
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Tranquillity — Riyad
The Zehiri ambassador looked at the chairs near Azunn's desk before looking back at the Sirian ambassador — they were too tall for Riyad, obviously. “Bloodthirsty warriors, eh?” he said. “Well, at least they don't find you an uncouth, annoying nuisance.”
Waggling his eyebrows conspiratorially, he hopped into a chair without waiting for an invitation. “As to what brings me here... well... we have a saying: a groundquake may open hidden caves for explorations. What are you planning to do now, my furred friend?”
Caroline — Arij
“Man, your face is more boring than my uncle's,” Arij told Hrof cheerily. “And he's rocky even by Zehir standards.”
Giving the Grexian mercenary one last look, she passed him and entered the lounge. She walked to where Solaris was sitting, gave the programme she was watching a dismissive look, and turned to Bobby, instead.
“Hey, Bobby,” she said, “a party isn't a procedure.”
Dreams of Revenge
Tranquility — Azunn
"I suppose so." Azunn returned to his chair, though his bodyguard remained standing. He wasn't particularly annoyed by the Sheikh's decision not to wait until a chair had been offered. After all, that was how they did things in Zehiri space.
"What am I planning to do? The only sensible thing in this situation," he said, leaning forward and fixing Riyad with a steady gaze. "I will try to change my counterparts' perceptions of the Union. Helping them realise that their best interests lie with us as an ally. I don't doubt that it will be difficult, but every ally we can get is one less that Verandi and their ilk will be able to draw upon."
Locking you up on radar since '09
Caroline
"Parties have a set of activities designed to provide 'enjoyment' to participants," Bobby replied. "Frequently-used actions have been analyzed for appropriateness and cultural interoperability, then prioritized for order of execution. Subsequently, subroutines will be reviewed and given new priority depending on external responses to current stimuli."
He reached into his pocked and pulled out a salt shaker, which he set next to the popcorn bucket.
"Please, by all means, help yourselves to one or more servings of popcorn."
(Avatar by Coffee)
Tranquillity — Riyad
Riyad stroked his wispy beard. “Quite the sound strategy,” he offered. He cupped his chin in one hand, apparently deep in thought, though that was a learned gesture; the Zehir had no equivalent gesture. “I would recommend approaching either the Ashkathi Union or the Norb Network,” he said and smiled — another acquired gesture. “Before you ask what the Zehir stand to gain from this... we do not like the Verandi modus operandi for one. Another thing is that Strategy back home thinks we stand to gain from strengthening our alliance with the Sirian Union.”
Caroline — Arij
“I dunno where you got your data on us Zehir,” Arij told Bobby, “but it's obviously incorrect. We don't eat as the carbos do.” She waved her arm. “See? Green? Mold? Photosynthesis and stuff?”
The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground
Caroline
"That is correct," Bobby said. "Unfortunately, no optimal solution was found due to the varied biologies of the assorted members of the crew, causing this current course of action to inadvertently exclude you due to your alternative nutritional situation. However, this unit attempted to avoid Conversational Concept: Social Awkwardness by changing the subject and offering popcorn to all members of the crew using inclusive language, so as to not draw specific attention to your situation."
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Caroline — Arij
Arij opened her mouth. “You know something, Bobby?” she said. “You're fantastic.”
She then promptly fell on the floor, convulsing silently while her eyebrows flopped around like the wings of a drowning bird.
For the Horde!
Caroline
Maros heard the loud THUD of Arij falling to the floor and looked up from Penzance. Seeing Arij laying there twitching, he rushed over to her side, checking to see if she was okay. "Miss Arij? Is something wrong?" he asked? He had never seen anything like this before, not from a Zehir. After all, Arij was the first Zehir he had ever met. Zehir didn't typically visit Larine, the moss would wash right off. And he wasn't sure that even if the moss DIDN'T wash off, a Zehir could swim anyway. Seemed rather unlikely.
edited 19th Aug '14 12:42:48 AM by AllHailThrall
I can still hail the Horde even though the company has shamed us. Strength and Honor even if Blizzard has neither.
Dreams of Revenge
Tranquility — Azunn
"Wise suggestions," said Azunn. He was already planning to try to convince the Ashkathi to support the Union more wholeheartedly. As for the Norb, well, even if he couldn't bring them around to his point of view, it would be worth at least trying to get them to take a more neutral stance. 'Asset denial', as the military would have put it. But due to their long-standing relationship with Verandi, they would be a far harder nut to crack. Never mind, he told himself. Eat the elephant one bite at a time, as the humans say.
"And your people think correctly. The Union looks after its allies," Azunn adopted another of his trademark smiles. It was almost as though the setback had never happened. "I am sure we can work out an agreement that would allow both of our races to prosper - though I hope you can understand if my superiors are slow to trust and act accordingly."
Caroline — Erruan
Erruan had maintained the training regime she had started since the attempted terrorist attack. It was important for someone in her line of work to be current, though she couldn't shake off the uncomfortable worry nagging in the back of her mind that her skills had declined since she left the Powered Infantry. Part of her wanted to accept it - it was almost inevitable that once outside of the punishing training regime of the PI her skills would have degraded slightly, no matter how closely she emulated it. However, it would also have been an admission that she had lost some of her edge, which was anathema to the ex-military Sirian. She had participated in Hrof's drills without a second thought. Any opportunity was one to be taken.
However, today was one in which she allowed herself some time to slow down; Erruan felt that it was important to have some downtime on occasion (for morale if nothing else). She had completed a truncated version of her regular training earlier as well - as far as she was concerned, that was going to be sufficient for today. Erruan was dressed in a black t-shirt bearing a small white logo for a Sirian arms company. Her trousers were the same colour.
Rather than wearing boots or even shoes Erruan was instead wearing a set of foot wraps. They were often more comfortable than wearing boots for hours on end. And if you were trying to relax, then you might as well make yourself as comfortable as possible.
The Sirian had been sitting nearby to Solaris and studying the fight. This was the first time she had ever seen Jiptohr mixed martial arts, and it was interesting to compare it to her own culture's martial arts events. She steadfastly ignored Solaris's running commentary - who cared who won the fight? - in favour of watching every movement on the hologram. Sometimes she wished there were other Sirians onboard; being around other races was fine, but occasionally she wanted the company of her own kind. It didn't help that she had already spent a fair chunk of her previous career at the fringes of Sirian space.
Erruan's ears twitched as she heard Arij fall down. Getting up, she decided to investigate. Her expression became perplexed as she got close enough to get a better look at Arij. Is there something wrong or is this just some weird Zehir thing? Despite her confusion, she said nothing - Maros had already beaten her to the punch. Erruan did, however, prepare to get moving in case medical assistance was necessary. What that entailed for a Zehir was a mystery, but it was swift action that counted. That and the ship's doctor could figure it out.
Locking you up on radar since '09
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Tranquillity — Riyad
“That is quite understandable,” Riyad said. “After all, it is not like decisionmaking back home on Kethib is lightning-fast, either. The God-King likes to deliberate this, think about that... we are fortunate as a race that the Snakes are all dead.”
He jumped off the chair and went to inspect the model starships standing on the bookshelf. “A hobby of yours?” he asked.
THE SLORG!
Hrof made no comment to Arij's comment about his face, mostly just being slightly confused by it. It's not that he didn't understand the connotations; he actually pretty much knew what she meant. Just that, even if it was meant as an insult towards him, even in jest, he didn't take it as one. Stoicism, though more importantly just a general sense of professionalism, was considered a good thing among the Military caste, not a bad one.
Feeling there was nothing more to be said on the matter, Hrof left the room.
Moments after Arij hit the floor, and Maros went to check on her, Hrof burst back into the room, pistol in his hands which he quickly aimed from one side of the room to the other, checking for threats. Only after seeing the source of the noise to be the Zehir falling on the floor did he lower his gun.
You are reading this.
Caroline
"Aural-Visual analysis of subject indicates exaggerated movements to express increased emotion attached to laughter," Bobby said, looking down at Arij.
"I am unable to conclude a reason for such behavior. My humor generation subroutines were idle during our conversation. Comedic detection algorithms on my own actions, as well as the actions of those nearby, and the general state of the surroundings, are likewise unable to determine a source of hilarity of sufficient magnitude to merit such a response."
Dreams of Revenge
Tranquility — Azunn
The previous discussion temporarily forgotten, Azunn swung around on his chair to follow the Zehir's path. He nodded as he rose to his feet once again, the bodyguard just eyeing Riyad with muted wariness. "Yes - there's something rather satisfying about watching a jumble of pieces gradually taking shape. Of course, if you wanted to get philosophical you could say it's representative of the role a good diplomat should play. He - or she - helps disparate fragments to come together to form something greater than the sum of their parts."
Locking you up on radar since '09
Tranquility - with Rufus
"Mossssst agreeable." Dabjavita nodded. "In fact, come by my villa later and I will personally show you some prime specimens you might consider purchasing."
At the mention of Tranquility's security situation, the prince's claws began flexing in anger. "The human is a fool, brushing me assssside like that! Tebigon can try and brush this under the rug but the fact remains that his people utterly failed to protect this place like they were supposed to. Verandi has proven incompetent and the Solarians are just a shell of what they were. Why come to the most dangerous sector of space just to get ourselves vaporized by egg-addled terrorists?"
Tranquility - with Koruuna and Blue
Inacca said nothing after Korunna's explanation, reverting instead to the untranslatable chirping while he mulled over her words. "I see," he said at last. "I'm not much for religion, I'm not. But this, recreation, was it? This singing for recreation sounds much like the prayers I've heard. Giving strength to the supernatural by making our voices heard. What a timeless concept! Might I obtain some copies of your songs some time later?"
A few meters away, Rrroriksix chuckled at Blue's explanation. "Good a reason as any. Might make for a good logo though. Speaking of which, how's business these days?" The Rakashan's whiskers twitched in amusement. "I imagine that little stunt your people pulled off has been nothing but good publicity for you."
Caroline
Solaris never took her eyes off the screen even as she reached into the bucket of popcorn Bobby was offering. "Thank you, Mister Bobby, you are a doll." she said without thinking, to enraptured by the resumption of the match on the screen. The two fighters were circling each other again and Solaris stared with unblinking eyes, not wanting to miss the next strike.
"I'll have some of that!" From the other side of the long sofa, First Mate Yeslah leaned over and put a large, hairy hand into the bucket. Whereas Solaris had only taken a single popped kernel to toss into her mouth, Yeslah pulled out enough popcorn to leave a noticeable dent in the bucket's contents. After righting himself, Yeslah winced, a small sign his injuries in his chest had not yet fully healed. He insisted that any pains he was experiencing would not affect his ability to work, however, and had returned to duty as soon as the doctor let him. Not wanting anyone to notice and make an issue of it, he loudly and cheerfully began shoving popcorn into his face.
"I didn't even know we had any popcorn left on the ship." The Knotarian said between mouthfuls. "Where did you find this anyway?"
A commotion from near the door made Yeslah stop eating in mid-munch. It also succeeded in taking Solaris' attention away from the screen. For a moment she look horrified. Then something clicked in her brain and the horror turned to something mixed between annoyance and creeped out. "I hate it when they do that." she said in a whisper. In a louder voice she said, "Mister Bobby is right. Miss Arij is laughing, no cause for alarm. You can continue on."
A second commotion brought her eyes back to the holoscreen. The audience, on the ship and in the crowd was cheering, Orange was reeeling back. Solaris' expression went back to horror. "Wait, what I miss? Rewind! Rewind!"
THE SLORG!
"I would think suggesting it as a logo would be just as egocentric of me..." Blue muttered, still looking towards the statue, then glanced back to Rrroriksix as he set to answering the alien's question. "Business remains largely unchanged for now; if anything there's a bit of a lull at the moment as many of my fellow lobbyists are sending word back to their companies before making any concrete decisions" he explained, sounding unconcerned about this, partially because he was about to continue.
"But I have managed to speak with a few of them, and prospects for the immediate future are looking good; one of our present business partners mentioned it as a 'renewal of proof of the Grexian mercenary company's abilities'. And I've been approached by a couple representatives of companies who've been hesitant in the past to hire our services, who mentioned they would add their personal recommendation to their reports" Blue elaborated, then turned back to the statue again. "You're actually the first diplomat to speak with me personally about the subject. So then, what do you think your Consulate will feel about the incident? Or any of the other official nations of the GN, for that matter?" he asked the rat-like alien, while still looking towards the statue.
Hrof blinked a couple times at the explanation that Arij was laughing. "Ah. I see" Hrof said simply, holstering his pistol; one would probably expect someone in Hrof's position to feel embarrassed at his overreaction. If he was, it didn't show on his face, or in his tone; probably because he wasn't, embarrassed that is.
Nevertheless, with the situation turning out to be harmless, there was no further reason for Hrof to be there. "I will return to my room then" Hrof stated, then turned and exited through the door once more, heading off towards his personal quarters.
You are reading this.
Space Colony Tranquility, Sol System
"Safety is among one of the most essential physical needs," Rufus replied. "However, you need not fear for your immediate safety to such an extent. In the previous incident, or and similar future ones, it would simply have been a matter of intercepting the approaching vessels at high velocity. The sacrifice of one or more of our ships would have been unfortunate, but it is outweighed by the loss of an entire station, and it would be seen as less disruptive than the loss of your life. The Norb place a high priority on the survival of peace-loving individuals in the universe such as yourself, Prince Dabjavita."
"However, that additional safety is a need is not the situation at hand," she continued, shifting her weight back a bit. "What is the current issue is that this need for additional safety must be properly addressed, so as to be presented for review. Currently, the manner in which it was introduced has resulted in casual dismissal in the Galactic Nations chamber. Should you desire to make a formal request and submit it to the assembly, I offer whatever assistance you require that is within my capability to provide."
Caroline
"Correction, I am a Norb frame embedded into a mountain gorilla," Bobby said. "Dolls are small toys made to resemble people and marketed towards children, slang for females with visually appealing features for the species in question, or large devices utilized by adults for behavior considered sexually deviant."
edited 25th Aug '14 12:09:34 AM by nman
Tranquility
Koruuna nodded. "For the Ashkathi, singing is more than simply an art form or a way to attract a mate... it is a way of life. As we often say, all life is connected, as one, within the Songstream. Singing is our way of strengthening that connection." She glanced at the statue again. "When we die, our spirits return to the Songstream, and those closest to the deceased sing for our safe guidance into a new life. Very similar to what I have read about the old Earth belief in reincarnation. It is a glorious cycle, Mr. Inacca, and highly sacred."
I can still hail the Horde even though the company has shamed us. Strength and Honor even if Blizzard has neither.