Aboard the Dawn, Cargo Bay

A lone ak'chtket made his way through the crowded cargo bay toward no destination in particular. In fact, this was his third time passing through the same area. His passage was heralded by a distinct rhythm of tk—tk—tk—clank, drawing attention to his chromed foreleg, distinctly shinier than the rest of his grey carapace. This was accompanied by another, muffled source of clanking from the large travel bag he had strapped to his back, sounding for all the world like it was full of kitchen implements, or metal plates. He was deftly maneuvering around and between the throng of passengers, an impressive feat, considering he continually divided his attention between his surroundings and the two holotablets he held in each pair of hands.

Zzk'vrit could not have been more excited than he was at that moment, except possibly two days ago, when he had first arrived at the station. To suddenly be greeted by the sight of dozens of alien species, he was almost overcome with scientific glee. He had been observing almost non-stop since then, identifying different species as he saw them with one holotablet while quickly recording observations and notes on the other. If his eyes weren't a fixed shape and already wide enough to grant him near-360 degree range of vision, they'd be wide open while he swiveled his head around excitedly, trying to take in as much as he possibly could at once.

"Is that a theran? Fascinating! And ooh, some sirians! So fluffy! And even a njalryeth over there!" Zzk'vrit's antennae quivered in excitement as he continued to type away on his holotablet. So many new species! He couldn't wait to get to interviewing them, asking about their culture, lifestyles, diets, mating rituals...

"Hey, watch where you're going, bug!"

"Haven't you passed through here already! Pick a spot and sit down!"

"Please cease disturbance! Am trying to sleep!"

"Oops! Sorry, sorry!" Zzk'vrit's internal musings were interrupted by the complaints of his fellow passengers, who were becoming quite irate at his restless wanderings. He made his way to a relatively empty spot near the center of the bay, where he'd have the best view in all directions. Setting down his pack with a loud clunk, he sat down on it as a makeshift chair, taking the chance to rest his legs. His hands, however, never stopped working as he continued recording, taking the occasional photo with his holotablet.

He could barely contain his excitement. They were about to launch! To embark on their journey to other worlds, where he'd be able to see even more alien life! His colleagues back on Tersek would be most eager to study his reports, and he resolved to send home a copy of his initial findings the first chance he got.

Dawn, Ceres

For a split second, Harr tensed at the sudden contact. Then he willed himself to calm down.

Relax, he told himself. It’s not an enemy. You just gave this human a ride on your back, for Losshur’s sake!

Glancing at Linda Kesyk with one eye, he made an attempt at a smile. “I appreciate the thought, but you don’t need to go out of your way for my sake. As you say, we’ll find water soon enough.” I hope…

A new voice drew Harr’s attention toward that other group of refugees—although it seemed the two groups were blending more and more together with every passing second. A newcomer had arrived, announcing himself as a Fernite. Harr’s brow furrowed. He’d never fought alongside Fernites during the war, but he knew them by reputation: vicious fighters who loved getting up close and personal with combat blades. Scuttlebutt had it that they were a whole species of sadists, but then again those rumors always exaggerated things…

Then he noticed that the Sirian from before was looking at him—and talking about him. All thought of Fernites and ordering food disappeared as a sudden wave of irritation swept over him. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Kaluu departed the session in high spirits. She hummed to herself, the sound of her voice activating the piezoelectric crystals within her leviskin so that she swam through the air half a metre above the ground. As she left the Congress chamber, her two bodyguards who had patiently been waiting just outside hummed their own leviskins to life and fell into formation just behind her.

“Honoured Nuncio,” said Kavre, the one on her left. “How went the meeting?”

The conductor glanced over her shoulder at him as they floated down a thoroughfare. “As well as could be expected,” she said. “There were some crosscurrents and some undertows, but nothing that will seriously impede the progress of this Congress, I should think.”

Abzu, the other bodyguard, inclined her head skeptically. “Perhaps you are being optimistic, Honoured Nuncio. You and the other delegates were in there for quite some time.”

Kaluu shot her a look. Abzu, chastened, averted her gaze. “My apologies,” she said.

Before replying, Kaluu switched off her translator. No need for passers-by to hear what she was about to say. “No need to apologize,” she said. “You only speak the truth as you perceive it. Perhaps I am being overly optimistic,” she allowed, “but better that than the alternative. If we default to pessimism, then this venture is doomed to fail before it even begins. If our people allowed cynicism to rule us every time we encountered a setback, we never would have broken away from the League and our three worlds would never have federated.” She arched an eyespot. “I hope you don’t think the Federation’s constitution was drafted in a day.”

“No, Honoured Nuncio,” her bodyguards said in unison.

“Good.” She smiled kindly at them. “The Galactic Congress is a new government, taking its first tentative steps. It may stumble a bit in these early days, but I’m confident that my fellow delegates and I can teach it how to swim.”

Just then they happened to pass by a restaurant, and the succulent smell of cooking meat wafted over Kaluu’s blowhole. She halted in midair, inhaling deeply. It had been a long day, and she was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in hours. Her suction cups quivered, and it took an ounce of willpower not to lick her lips like some ill-bred lagoon-dweller.

Composing herself, she turned to face her bodyguards and gestured gracefully at the door. “Come. As apologies for talking your ears off, let me treat you to dinner. I’m sure the two of you must be starving.”

They went inside, and in short order they were escorted to a large booth designed with beings of a njalryeth’s stature in mind. As they perused the menus and took their orders, a flash of white caught Kaluu’s attention. Glancing at it, she saw the familiar figure of the Sirian ambassador taking a seat at a table some distance away. And he wasn’t alone; a being sat across from him, though Kaluu couldn’t quite make out their species since they were facing away from her and the number of other beings between her and that table interfered with her echolocation. And there was just enough of a din in this restaurant that she couldn’t make out what they were saying, either.

Kaluu cupped her chin with one hand. “Interesting…”

Just then the kinvesti waiter arrived with their meal: steamed octopods, freshly caught from the bay. Picking up a knife and fork, Kaluu carefully sawed off several tentacles, stirred them up, and popped them into her mouth. She savoured the taste of the somewhat-rubbery meat, but kept her ears open and a surreptitious eye trained on the sirian’s table…

edited 5th May '17 3:22:12 PM by SullenFrog

[The Dawn]

"I'm still down with getting food," Linda said to her flighted companion. "Given that I'm still starving and all. I just hope there's some non-soggy, not-watered-down food available!" She sighed. "I suppose we should be grateful the fire-suppression system didn't vent all the air or use foam or something." She turned to Harr next. "Hey do you still want...?" It was about then that she noticed he was talking to someone else. She followed his gaze and spotted the sirian from earlier.

"See?" she whispered to Brenedida. "Soggy sirian! I told you!" She chuckled, then waved to get the sirian's attention. "Hey, if you're looking for a towel, you're looking in the wrong place," she said. "Besides, with all the gadgets stuffed into that suit of yours, there's probably a hair dryer in there somewhere, you just have to try a little harder to find it!"

Linda had met a few sirians during the Final War. Some responded well to a bit of teasing, others were so buttoned-down they might as well have been sirian-shaped statues. She was eager to see where this one landed on the spectrum.

[The City of Dama Latvama] (Amelia's)

"Not to worry," she said. "I haven't been waiting long. Besides, I'm starting to think the waiter's forgotten about me..."

As if on cue, the waiter turned up with a plate of extra-spicy chicken wings, an additional bottle of no-name hot sauce, and some profuse apologizing. Then, once Azunn's order had been collected, the waiter was off once more.

"The service here leaves much to be desired," she said, shaking her head. She picked up the bottle, glanced at its label, and sighed. "And they don't have the good stuff, either... Ah, but I suppose life could be worse." And with that she started drenching the sizzling plate of already extra-spicy wings in even more sauce.

"Anyway, how have you been lately? How's the family? The Congress has been a bit of a mess so far, but to be honest, I'm optimistic about the future."

She took a bite of one super-extra-spicy wing, and the expression on her face was one of delight.

Aboard the Dawn

"What?!" Den sputtered. "I guess a Savage like you wouldn't understand how important color might be, huh? A Fernite is born colorless, unlike you ungrateful cats. You have color! We had to earn ours!" He clenched his left fist, the inorganic one. "And humans are Pact. We would never be Pact! I'm sure you understand my irritation," he ended in a slightly less accusatory tone.

Dinerrsa looked at Den and pinned her ears back angrily. "Fernite human saying nisi didn't earn fur coat?" Dinerrsa asked, her tone threatening as she singled out that particular line of topic to focus on.

Aboard the Dawn

"Well, not exactly," Den said, calming slightly. "I'm just saying, as a colorful species, you shouldn't take it for granted. On Fernes, we barely ever see true light, much less color. I never saw a true day on Fernes, not until I left. I didn't know what red looked like until I was seven. Green, twelve. Colors used to be for the rich. But you guys..." He gestured vaguely with his inorganic arm. "You guys are born colorful. We're born black and white. See?"

He spread his arms, smiling. Really, he was just trying to make amends. He'd been a bit hasty to start an argument. "Clearly, we can learn from each other, eh? Trade some info for info? I'm fairly curious about nisi, just a little."

Dinerrsa's anger eased up a bit and her ears came back up, though now she looked a bit suspicious of Den. "Dinerrsa meet human men who say that before. Most actually just wanted to see Dinerrsa naked" Dinerrsa said, one ear twitching briefly.

Galactic Congress

"No," said Rikshin Re, with finality.

"Yes!" said Day Grafoss, with exasperation.

 Consul Vye sighed raspily. His staff, while close friends, sometimes just couldn't cooperate in the slightest.

"We cannot afford to reduce our current arsenal," Re said, taking on a lecturing tone. He was older than Grafoss by about a decade and was part of the more militaristic sect of Fernites. He was  the director of security for Vye, but also acted as an advisor. His stony face was the last thing any would-be attacker would see. His limbs were gunmetal grey - military types seldom hid their prosthetics. "Under the current regime, we are simply too vulnerable to attack from former enemies and those who have seen us in action. Our arsenal must remain ready at all times, undiminished."

"This is our chance for peace, Rikshin!" Rikshin Re visibly twitched at the use of his first name. Fernites only addressed someone personally by their first name if friendly with them; while discussing formal issues like this, it was the equivalent of calling someone 'dude' while in session. Day Grafoss was clearly going going the emotional appeal.

Grafoss was young for someone of his station, earning it through his avid support for the new regime and the actions he had taken to help institute it. He had trained under Vye personally for a short time as a diplomat, but, at least in Vye's opinion, he had taken a bit too much to the action of appeasement.

"We need allies more than we need weapons! 'United we stand, divided we fall,' remember? Our combined strength will outshine the arsenal."Grafoss smiled disarmingly, as if it would solve the argument.

"I'm not saying to turn down the non-aggression pact," Re said, rolling his eyes.

"If I may?" An dark purple, insectoid alien approached, two sets of hands daintily folded in front of him. Xinkain, a free Dagrite. He was part of a new initiative, granting more rights to the Dagrite slave population. He had been chosen to represent the wishes of the Dagrites as a whole. He had come highly recommended from Seneschal-12, the labor AI in charge of him. He had formerly served as a servant to the Freska family.

"I find myself in agreement with the honourable director Re. The foremost skill of the Fernites is their... distinct military. It is what we are known for. We have already made peace and... downsized. To give up anymore is to let our enemies know we are willing to bow to others." He bowed his head and took a few steps back.

Vye sighed again. He agreed with the majority, if not their exact words. "Your concerns are noted," he growled. A long time ago, in the wars, he had suffered major damage to his throat and had it replaced with a very advanced prosthetic. Now he spoke with a vocalizer, but one purposefully less advanced. Like many Fernites, he liked to show off his wounds. His lips and words were often mismatched, and his voice growled constantly, obviously electronic. "Please, all three of you, rest for now. I shall contemplate the issues myself for a while."

After their leave, he found a bench and sat. Today was going to be a busy day.

Aboard the Dawn

"Naked?" Den Hatchett said incredulously. "I would never! I'm just interested in other cultures! C'mon, work with me here. Like...." he paused for a second. "Well, how about your home? Tell me about it, huh?"

"Dinerrsa not have home. That why Dinerrsa here" Dinerrsa responded, with a bit of a 'no duh' tone since they were on a refugee ship. But after a moment of extra thought she then added, "you mean nisi home world, Jotun? Jungle world, very warm and humid, is nice. Dinerrsa wish that Pendi could have grown up there." Dinerrsa's tone got a bit somber at the end, as she glanced back down at her daughter.

Dawn — Erruan

"No, but maybe you could help me build one," said Erruan. She didn't want to give the njaryleth an excuse to get aggressive. After all, they'd probably be stuck with each other for the next few months, if not longer. As for Linda, it was simply a nod to the stereotype that Saktans were good with technology. As she looked away, however, she caught sight of Zzk'vrit. At least someone is happy, she mused. In fact, he seemed to be treating it as if it was a holiday on a cruise ship rather than a worn out old freighter with a hold full of refugees. She wasn't terribly familiar with ak'chtket. Nudging Shasta, she said, "Are all ak'chtket are like that?"

Amelia's — Azunn

Azunn watched as Mnhiri drenched her wings in hot sauce with concern, though he refused to acknowledge the offending incident out loud. Perhaps his palate was too bland, but the idea of making already very spicy food even more spicy just didn't sit right with him. And if it took a while for his steak to arrive, well, that would just give him more time to discuss things with his Saktan counterpart.

"I'm alright. My family's doing well, too - Alar's been keeping me up to date on what's been happening on Uabarr," said Azunn. Realising Mnhiri might not know who that was, he added, "Alar is our household AI. As for matters of Congress... you've hit the mark. If we can wrangle the more unruly elements of the Congress, then I firmly believe that we can move forward to a brighter future."

Amelia's — Cinder

As Kaluu monitored the sirian and saktan's conversation, she might have noticed a new arrival at Amelia's. The visitor was an unusually tall kellsaran, dressed in a loose fuschia robe fitted over a black bodysuit. If she had a Mark it wasn't immediately obvious. Just underneath the kellsaran's mask the white fur of her lower jaw was visible, a sure sign of her being of former CBRN Squadron stock. Depending on how much research Kaluu had done beforehand, she might have recognised the kellsaran as Aqossmarrokir Cinder, Azunn's Chief of Staff. Apparently noticing Kaluu, she walked purposefully toward the Njaryleth ambassador.

"Excuse me," her voice was quiet and yet uncannily clear and smooth, apparently lacking the modulation that Kell vocoders typically applied. "Do you mind if I join you? We can discuss business, if you like."

Dawn, Ceres

Linda Kesyk spoke up before the Sirian could reply to Harr’s challenge. Her words seemed to dissipate any tension the Sirian might have felt, and then the Sirian went back to talking with that chatty dotur.

Harr exhaled. He knew that they might all be stuck on this ship for months, and that picking a fight with his neighbours would have been unwise. And yet, for reasons he couldn’t arcticulate, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

After all, he was a soldier. Fighting was all he was good for.

Feeling morose, Harr reached into his backpack and pulled out a necklace of teeth. Holding it in one hand, he gently ran a thumb over the names carved into the enamel. Twenty-one teeth. Twenty-one names. Twenty-one souls who understood him as no one else could.

Once.

Sighing, he put the necklace away. To Linda Kesyk he said, “Yes, I’d still like to get food.” Harr opened a compartment in his backpack, pulling a handful of the pico-processors used as currency in many of the former League states. “I hope they’re willing to accept League chips…”

While Kaluu still couldn’t make out what the Sirian ambassador and his companion were saying, she know had a better idea of who this mystery guest was. The ambassador’s companion was moving around just enough to give Kaluu a clearer view, and though the conductor was no expert she felt confident that she was looking at the back of a seated theran. More than that, the body language on display suggested a level of familiarity beyond that of simple colleagues.

“Interesting indeed,” she murmured, spearing a tentacle with her fork.

“Nuncio,” Abzu cut in.

Kaluu paused, tentacle hovering before her open mouth. Following her bodyguard’s gaze, the conductor saw a robed figure heading directly toward her table. She recognized the newcomer as a kellsaran, and the quality of their garments made it clear that they were attached to the Sirian Union’s delegation in some capacity.

Intrigued, Kaluu made a subtle gesture to her bodyguards and resumed chewing her food. By the time the kellsaran reached her table, she had swallowed. Her eyespots rose a fraction, betraying her surprise at the kell’s unmodulated voice. “Not at all,” she said, gesturing to an open section of the booth. “Please, sit down.”

Kafre and Abzu, who had taken their hands off the thunder-rods holstered at their hips, shuffled over to make room for the kell. As they did, Kaluu furrowed her brow in contemplation. “Forgive me if I seem forward, but I was given to understand that kellsarans preferred to alter their voices. I find it curious that you do not.” Setting down her knife and fork, she tented her hands. “Do I have the pleasure of addressing Aqossmarrokir Cinder?”

As she spoke, her bodyguards began clicking softly under their breath, using their echolocation to try and surreptitiously search for any concealed weapons that might be on the kellsaran’s person. Their relaxed postures belied an undercurrent of tension, and they were ready to leap into action should this individual prove to be a threat.

[The City of Dama Latvama] (Amelia's)

Mnhiri chuckled quietly. "That's a big 'if', unfortunately. If it were a simple matter to get the Congress to agree on things, I'm sure we'd have galactic peace by now." She paused to take a bite out of one of her newly extra-extra-spicy wings, and after some brief consideration, seemed to determine them to be adequate. "Regardless," she continued. "It's good to know there's some definitive support behind the idea. I've found that most people will happily talk peace, but when it come to action, they're awfully skittish."

She paused again to take another bite. If the undoubtedly-severe spiciness was bothering her at all, it didn't show. "Speaking of family," she said. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind terribly if I asked for your opinion on something? You see, I've got this niece, and she's turning 12 next month. I have to admit, I'm at a bit of a loss as to what I should get her. I don't suppose you've got any... ideas..." Her sentence trailed off, and she frowned at her plate for a moment before turning to Azunn with a bit of a sheepish smile on her face.

"I'm sorry, but... I haven't asked you this already, have I? I just had the strangest feeling, like I'd said that to you already..."

[Dawn]

Linda frowned a bit. That sirian hadn't had much of a comeback, but at least she'd tried. On her imaginary Sirian Silliness Scale, she placed this particular sirian somewhere near the middle, but leaning towards to Serious side of things. Still, she had potential. Maybe she'd loosen up once they weren't in such a cramped environment.

"Of course I could build a hair dryer," Linda muttered. "I could build a hair dryer out of tape, matches, scrap and willpower." She looked over at Harr then, and watched in silence as he examined the necklace he'd produced. She didn't feel the need to ask about it, that face he was making told her enough. It was the kind of face she'd seen on several of her old buddies. And in the mirror, from time to time, not that she'd admit it.

When he took out his cash, she smiled. "Only one way to know for sure!" she said. "So... you want me to hold onto that while you stick around and guard our spot? Or are you coming with?" She looked over at Brenedida. "You're still coming, right?"

Onboard the Dawn

"Jotun, huh....?  It sounds like a nice place. I grew up on Fernes. Don't know if you've heard of it." A dreamy look came over his face. "Most of the buildings are small, but then there would be a few spikes going up to the sky, the more modern stuff. And most of it was white, until recently. Bright colors on a stark canvas...." he sighed, then snapped backed to the present. "Why'd you leave? Jotun, I mean."

Amelia's, City of Dama Latvama — Azunn

Azunn nodded silently as Mnhiri answered, not quite able to tear his eyes away from the culinary incendiary that Mnhiri seemed to eat without a care in the world. There was a brief reprieve as his meal arrived. Thanking the waiter, he found himself much hungrier than he'd expected. Mnhiri's query came just as he popped a mouthful of succulent meat between his lips. Using it to buy himself time, Azunn's expression was one of thought.

"If you have, then I don't recall," said Azunn, flashing her a smile. "You might be in luck though - I'm a collector of model starships, though I also look at other things from time to time. Would she be interested in that sort of thing? And if she is, could you tell me what she likes? It would also be useful to know whether she'd prefer a simple snap together model or something more complex. I'm planning on hunting down the local model shops when I can." He seemed animated by the discussion, his eyes gleaming.

Amelia's, City of Dama Latvama — Cinder

"Thank you, Your Eminence Kaluu Nykos Dros Varda," said Cinder, obligingly sitting at the spot in the booth the njaryleth ambassador pointed out. "You are correct on both counts, Your Eminence. I'm not actually speaking with my natural voice." There was a pregnant pause. Cinder's explanation almost sounded uncomfortable. "I hope it isn't distracting. Please excuse me, Your Eminence Kaluu Nykos." She shifted her unseen gaze from Kaluu as she tried to get the attention of a waitress, her mask catching the light as she did so. The upper half was purple, whilst the lower half had yellow tessellated triangles. All of it was bordered by black; the pattern was repeated on her chestplate. With her order - seafood - taken, she settled back into the booth.

The bodyguards' echolocation would immediately allay any fears of the kellsaran Chief of Staff trying to harm their charge. She was completely unarmed. Perhaps of more interest, however, would be the fact that the majority of Cinder's back and chest cavity was a solid piece of metal. A pair of subtle handle-like fin projections ran from the top of the metal section of her back to the bottom. At this distance, everyone present might also have noticed that despite Cinder's breathing her chest wasn't actually rising or falling.

edited 26th Jun '17 3:46:48 PM by Flanker66

"Dinerrsa not heard of Fernes" Dinerrsa confirmed in a somewhat apathetic tone of voice. After Den's question, her eyes narrowed in a slight glare and her long ears pinned back. "Dinerrsa not need to tell human that. Is only for Dinerrsa and Pendi to know" she told him in a more bitter tone.

So maybe Dinerrsa didn't want to talk about it, but there was the other nisi groups in the cargo bay. She had certainly spotted them, and yet had decided not to go gather with them for some reason.

Amelia's, City of Dama Latvama

The Shrikes were fairly certain that they'd be late to the Congress since day one. Navigating within Casa Esplenderosa was already tricky, so it was understandable that foreigners would have a hard time getting within range to extend the invitation to them as well. Estanislao Leng lent a hand himself to prepare the shuttle all the way to the Congress, but even then they'd be cutting it close. Hence why he missed the first day and only now had gotten himself on the ground, starving and tired. He damn near stumbled into the restaurant, and eagerly lurched to his seat after the table for one was exactly as quick to get as he'd hoped. Mr. Leng was never one for a retinue, and here in Dama Latvama any Shrike bodyguards could start flying colors and start a shootout! The bodyguards he did have then were a pair of young kids packing machine-pistols, instructed to get their own tables and enjoy themselves tonight, and to not worry. The chickenwalker he'd taken to get here was parked out front anyway, that thing would probably scare the more chickenshit assassins away.

Leng laughed to himself at that image as he went to his table, only to see like, three or four different ambassadors all having dinner there too! Holy shit, this was tasty, someone could just walk in here with an LMG and take the budding free world hostage. Leng got more excited than scared, and gave a polite little wave to the other ambassadors. Thing was, the gangly, pale anatomy of even the smallest Morcego made tiny waves gigantic gestures. The Morcego were alright at hugs, but in many places they were considered the best wavers.

As a result Ambassador Estanislao Leng, PhD looked a little clownish even as he attempted a curt and """subtle""" wave at these other big important people.

edited 6th Jul '17 10:55:36 AM by Taco

Amelia's, Dama Latvama

"A fine example of a Morcego," a voice said from behind the ambassador Leng, a voice which held static in it. It was Consul Darok Vye of the Establishment of Fernes. He had ended up following some of the other ambassadors there. Apparently, it was a popular spot for those recently on recess from Congress.

Consul Vye smiled as he spoke, which was only noticeable because that meant his mouth didn't actually move as he spoke. Long ago he had to have a vocoder unit implanted in to him when he sustained serious injuries to his throat; he only kept it the way it was as a sort of trophy, a show of pride in his past. As it was, his words rarely matched up with his lips.

Behind him stood another Fernite, tall even for his species, garbed in fearsome attire. Two cybernetic arms hinged on his shoulder, two hard-light shield handles, and two sword hilts with no blades, presumably either hard-light or a baton of some type. A white mask concealed his face, a blank one with no details, not even eyes. He wore a plain military uniform, stark white, with gloves and a short cape over one shoulder, pitch black, a current style with an old-fashioned colour scheme. Rikshin Re might be Vye's chief of Security, but Dekani was the Consul's personal bodyguard.

"I don't believe I saw you in session, ambassador," Consul Vye said amicably. "Perhaps better for you; it's rather headache-inducing at the time. Incidentally, I don't suppose that... vehicle out there is yours? I'm familiar with your people's affinity for such things."   "Ahh, and may I take a seat?" He added. He didn't seem to acknowledge the menacing Fernite, which was par the course for bodyguards. In any case, Dekani didn't seem the type to sit.

Aboard the Dawn

Hatchett eyed the other groups of nisi onboard, clearly suspecting... something. But he eventually returned back to the one in front if him. Dinerrsa.

"Well, if you don't want to talk about it, we won't talk about it," he said. "Personally, I left because of the war. Too much violence, and my people enjoyed it way too much, yaknow? We... did things we shouldn't have done, and things weren't changing." He went quiet for a second. "I heard they have now. I'm glad to hear it, but honestly? I don't think it'll stick. We're stuck in our ways, like barbarians." He sighed, then smiled wearily. "But we try, and that's good."

So Estanislao's bodyguards were two dudes Greg and Pablo and the sum total of their credentials were they'd been part of a drug war once and killed like a dozen dudes between them. Greg was an accomplished beatboxer and Pablo was a skilled carpenter. Pablo was human, and Greg was Morcego. Both were dressed in similar low-cost fancy clothes to Leng's.

"I'd prefer it if you just called me Sir, or Mr. Leng." Estanislao said to Vye, dragging a chair from an unoccupied table over to his without standing. "And please do sit. We received the invitation late and as a result the congress received us late. We busted our asses to only arrive here a few hours late rather than days, and as a result I am extremely hungry. I'd stand to shake your hand but I'm not sure I'd keep my balance." He gave a brief knife-drawer smile.

Dawn, Sol System

“As I said before, if I move from this spot we might lose it.” Harr made an attempt at a smile and held out his handful of chips. “I’ll hold down the fort. Wouldn’t be the first time I pulled guard duty. Besides, the two of you seem trustworthy.”

A wry laugh burst from his blowhole. “And even if you weren’t, it’s not like you can take the money and run. This ship isn’t that big.”

It may not have been the best joke, but a stab at humour was better than nothing.

“Not at all,” said Kaluu, picking up on the change in Cinder’s mood. “Forgive me if I broached a sensitive subject.”

Kafre and Abzu exchanged a look, subtly nodding to each other in confirmation that the aqossmarokir was clean. Satisfied that their charge was in no immediate danger, they allowed their gazes to roam across the restaurant, observing the comings and goings of the patrons. Peaceful though the climate was, they were taking no chances with their charge’s safety.

The sudden and conspicuous arrival of two chiropteran beings and a human drew all three njalryeths’ attention. Kaluu recognized the former two as Morcego, though her research into the species had been somewhat rushed. She knew that their government, the Shrikes, had broken away from the Pact in a violent revolt, but beyond that the minutiae escaped her. She raised an eyespot as one of the Morcego waved in her direction, wondering if he were their ambassador; she didn’t recall seeing him on the floor earlier that day. She returned the gesture with a subtle lifting of her hand and a half-smile.

Her musings seemed to be correct, as the Morcego was approached by two fernites—one whom she recognized as their ambassador, while the other was clearly a bodyguard. As the three of them struck up a conversation, Kaluu put the curious sight out of her mind and turned her attention back to Cinder.

“This restaurant has certainly attracted an interesting clientele,” she began. “And who can blame them? The food is quite divine.” Smiling, she gestured to her bowl with a knife. “You really should try the octopod tentacles, Aqossmarokir; the meat has a most pleasant texture.”

Dinerrsa looked at Den with a fairly dull, unimpressed expression. Belittling of violent behavior wasn't likely to impress any nisi that much, much less Dinerrsa given her profession. (Or rather, the profession that she intended to have.) "Nisi proud to be Savages; take name as pride. Dinerrsa cage fighter" Dinerrsa said in a fairly flat tone.

[The City of Dama Latvama] (Amelia's)

"Ah, a hobbyist, huh?" Mnhiri chuckled. "That sounds like a good idea, though. At some point or other, she told me she wanted to design starships. Not sure if she's still got that dream, but either way, who doesn't like a good starship every now and then?" She paused to take another carefree bite of her meal. "I'm thinking... something pretty easy, and not too big. She's only 12, after all."

She spotted the Shrikes' ambassador out of the corner of her eye, and then promptly pretended she hadn't, if only to avoid snickering at the way he'd just waved at everyone.

[Dawn]

"Awesome," said Linda, accepting the chips. "You just want some noodles, right? Obviously we're limited by what we can afford and what I can carry, but... Anything special you want me to keep an eye out for? Lossurian junk food? A favourite candy bar, maybe?"

Amelia's, Dama Latvama

Consul Vye returned the smile, saying, "Well met, Mr. Leng. I am Consul Darok Vye of the Establishment at Fernes." He sat, signalling vaguely to Dekani, who didn't seem to acknowledge it; supposedly he was just being told to stay. "I suppose that speaks to the efficiency of our current union so far, doesn't it? I'm sure it shall improve." He smirked slightly. "In session we haven't accomplished much either; talks of a non-aggression pact, reducing the military arsenal of all powers involved." He paused for a second. "A penny for your thoughts, ambassador?" He raised his eyebrows slightly.

He knew little of the Shrike's current stance, or for that matter of their history. He knew they had been Pact, but revolted, and in Vye's book that made them alright, at least for now. In any case it would be better to be friends for now, even if things could change later.  Which, hopefully, wouldn't be the case.

"Well, err..." Den trailed off. "I'm not saying fighting is bad, necessarily, just not always, like, a game. Not that that's how they always treat it, but... most of them are good about it, but our leaders weren't. They were radicals, you know? I mean, surely there's such a thing as too much fighting," he said imploringly. Really, he just wanted some common ground with the nisi. Surely, they had to have something in common.

edited 7th Jul '17 6:19:46 PM by Kepler-7

"Nisi decide leaders by fighting; is how nisi stay strong. Dinerrsa get money to fight, so more fight mean more money. More money is good, so more fight is good. Dinerrsa not feed Pendi without money" Dinerrsa said to Den, sounding just a little irritated now, while her ears slowly moved to pin back.

Amelia's

Oh shit, Estanislao was getting put on the spot. He'd prepped speeches, but he wasn't sure that they were really good for this. He knew how to go at this though. The last few weeks were the most peaceful he'd ever lived in years, and you didn't let go of that lightly.

"The Shrikes impaled men alive on lengths of pipe." Mr. Leng said matter-of-factly. "They overran army garrisons by strapping machine-guns to walking tractors." He shrugged. "The last 3 years have showed me that non-aggression pacts don't stop the people with guns from being there and making everyone anxious, and arsenal limitations don't keep people from sticking an ice pick in your jugular when you look at them funny. Now, you want to stop violence? Again, look at the Shrikes."

Dr. Leng could still remember the day he turned on the news to see new Shrikes land on Os Cumes, mechs shading their cockpits with gigantic metal hands, striding proudly into plains, tearing away at the earth to form new fields. His face turned wistful just thinking about it. "We turned in our Swords for Ploughshares" literally redesignating all Sword-type IFVs as Ploughshare-type Assistive Frames, "but that's only because we all get along, and that is the direction to take, not legislated cold war."

Morcego didn't do crowds like this very well. Their natural lope didn't account for anyone else on the ground and a slightly taller hunch still meant they'd be squashed in most crowds. Abel Bruno was one such Morcego, brown and white, trying not to claw any eyes out or break any faces while he stalked through the crowd. He hated this ship, and he just wanted to get to where he needed to go, and maybe get comfortably crowded instead, maybe into the cockpit of a simple little Andador mech, a snug runabout to take the lay of his land all the way out there somewhere. For now he stood in the middle of the crowd and waited because that seemed to be all anyone was doing right now.

Ceneceros, Dama Latvama, Airspace Near the Space Port

The OPSS Pakat-Zorek - the oficial shuttle of the Rak-Girz' emissary was currently on final approach on the Space Port. Shortly after the shuttle made ground contact and Emissary 1st Class Kuz-Plak-Tu stepped outside, she was followed by two other Rak-Girz, both clad in highly ornamental armor. Kuz-Plak-Tu was rather happy that the long voyage was over now, she never could stand long journeys aboard a shuttle. Soon she would join the other delegates in the Galactic Congress.