NationStates Jolt Archive

This is a Universe II (http://z14.invisionfree.com/UniverseII/index.php?act=idx) thread. It is closed to all but UII members.

Since this takes place within the confines of the Albian Star Empire, you'll need his permission to participate.

Near the Core of the Milky Way Galaxy

As they neared their destination, the three exploratory vessels began to slow. By anybody else's standards, of course, they were traveling impossibly fast – close to a billion times the speed of light. That, combined with the fact that none of the three could be detected while in flight by almost anything save a gravitational interferometer, meant that nobody at their destination saw them until they arrived.

A few thousand parsecs out – just a few minutes short of their destination at cruising speed – they stopped and surveyed the galaxy spread out before them. It was big – several times larger than average – and had the usual singularity at its core. That was to be expected, even if somewhat of a hindrance. The best place to lay down a new gate was at the very center of a galaxy, but seeing as how that spot was taken, they'd do the next best thing and choose a nice system just a short distance away.

Data collected and system chosen, the trio of starships darted toward their final destination: a perfectly average system, with no distinguishing characteristics. Just another system, like the scores of others where they'd erected a gate.

Only to find that it wasn't empty. In fact, there were hundreds – maybe even thousands - of ships entering and leaving the system; the place was literally throbbing with commerce. For this wasn't just any system after all: it was New Londra, capital of the Albian Star Empire.

On the Bridge of the Exploration Vessel F'thark

“I sure hope they don't mind us dropping in on them like this without an invitation,” mused Ukki aloud. She turned and looked at Thurve. “You want me to transmit the usual, 'We-come-in-peace-take-us-to-your-leader” missive?”

“Might as well,” Thurve said, wondering how this was going to affect his bonus. “Tell Roos and Bana 'Kbth not to make any sudden moves. Not,” added the exploration vessel's skipper, “That either of those two tubs could make any sudden moves anyway.”

“Gotcha, boss,” said the Rané pilot, as she transmitted the standard multilingual greeting.
Salutoj. Ni estos ne vundi vin. Ni serĉas amikan kontakton kaj komerco. Plaĉi alporti nin instrukciojn por sekura renkontiĝo kun vi.Salutations. We will be not to wound you. We search for a friendly contact and commerce. To be pleasing to bring us instructionses for a secure meet with you. “Did you remember to offer to bring the kuffa?” quipped Thurve.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER....

Crown Prince Cedric paced impatiently, the ticking of an old fashioned grandfather clock keeping time with his thoughts.
Tick.
What would be the result of this Illness? Would she recover as she had always done, and would he have to wait another year?
Tock.
What if she was dead? He would have to become King. And at his age, he was expecting grandchildren of his own. How would he cope, after so many years waiting, waiting, waiting....
Tick.

On the third stroke, the door opened, and he ceased his pacing. The grey-suited doctor came out, his face still, all emotion buried beneath decades of practical experience. But even so, his eyes were moist.
"I regret to inform you that, at Midnight exactly, her majesty the Empress Regina I, passed away peacefully at the age of 91. Long live the Empire."

Cedric's breath caught in his throat. So. It had finally occurred. He...was now King. At the age of fifty eight, he was to be ruler of the Empire, passing the laws, commanding the armies and navies....he frowned. No. He was King, not Emperor. He would have to rely on the Lord Chancellor, and the increasingly powerful House of Representatives. When he died, which would probably be sooner rather than later, rule would pass to his eldest son, the Prince... Crown Prince now- Theodore. His heart thumped. That would be a problem, for- unbeknownst to all but a trusted few- Theodore was a Robosexual, a string of cyborg and synthoid lovers carefully hidden from the media's ever prying eyes.
In ten years or twenty, a man who loved robots would ascend to the throne.
Cedric knew in his heart that nothing he could do between now and then would prevent the rapid decay of his mother's Empire when that came to pass.
But tomorrow was tomorrow. Today was today, and he had an Empire to manage, and a crown to be bestowed...
"Thank you doctor. You may depart now. Send in the Lord Chancellor Pevinsey if you see him. That will be all."


TODAY

King Cedric was being fitted for the new, grandiose suit he would wear to his mother's state funeral, a sombre black outfit with a touch of millitary grandeur, similar to the suit he had recently worn to the Memorial celebrations.
Suddenly, a panicked and out of breath man in a CDL uniform burst into the private fitting room, startling the tailor, and almost ending the man's life, as the Royal bodyguard raised his laser pistol instantly.
"Lower your weapon, Kavahr." Cedric ordered curtly, the plainly exhausted Civil Defence volunteer completely out of breath. The fanatically loyal Maharati alien did so. The powerfully built four-armed aliens were traditionally part of the King's bodyguard- ironic, given the Royal Guard traditionally only allowed humans into its ranks.
"Now, when you have your breath back citizen, perhaps you could explain how- and more importantly why- you are here."
"Your Majesty, I was sent immediately from Stellar Traffic Control to inform you- we have first contact."
Cedric's eyes widened with alarm, and was about to ask why they did not contact him using a more direct method, when he realized that, as was his habit when in private, he had switched off his mobile communicator.
Cursing his technophobia and discomfort with the bleeping voice transmitters,
he switced on his mobile communicator, and immediately it began bleeping.
"YOU HAVE 106 MESSAGES. MESSAGE 1, CIVIL DEFENCE COMMAND...MESSAGE 2, STAR NAVY ADMIRALTY...MESSAGE 3... OFFICE OF STRATEGIC INTELLIGENCE...."
Cursing the inefficency, he asked the volunteer to relay his report.
"First Contact your majesty. Unknown aliens ships dropped right on top of us, from above the Galactic Plane. Brief message, sent the planet straight to Situation Two, your majesty."
"Aliens? from above?! Message?" he spluttered, in a most unregal way.
The volunteer ignored the evident confusion of the most powerful man in the known universe, and continued.
"Yes, your majesty. I- uh, have it recorded here-" he produced a millitary-grade communicator, and activated its playback feature, audio only.

"Salutations. We will be not to wound you. We search for a friendly contact and commerce. To be pleasing to bring us instructionses for a secure meet with you."

Cedric let loose a sigh of relief. Thank heavens these aliens were friendly! It would be much easier to exploit and gradually assimilate them if they were barterers. Confident the situation could now be handled, he left the private fitting room, hurrying as regally as possible to the Central Command Chamber elsewhere in the Palace. It was, unfortunately, half a mile away, and getting there quickly would be difficult. But he aimed to beat his children's old records for running the corridors, as he swiftly abandoned any pretence to regality, and sprinted to the CCC.

"Whats the...gasp...situation?"he wheezed, as red-faced as the volunteer had been a few minutes ago.
"My King, the aliens appear to be holding their position directly above New Londra. They have transmitted this one message on every frequency we know of and probably a few we don't, and in a multitude of medias."
This from the Lord Castellan, the head of the Beaureau in charge of stellar traffic control and monitoring space in the Nova Sol system.
"Cursory scans and examination suggest that their are three ships, of unknown composition, with no obvious weaponry. They also appear to be capable of near-instanteous travel, as, well, one moment they weren't above us, and the next they were, your majesty."
This from the Lord Marshall, commander in chief of the defence of New Londra and the Royal Guard. He was grim-faced, and he had, despite the possible breach of etiquette, lit a nicogar, its harmless but addictive smoke drifting from his mouth.
"What do we make of the content of the message?" he asked, suddenly craving a nicogar himself. It would help steady his nerves, if nothing else.
"We have no reason to believe its an elaborate ploy by our enemies, if thats what you mean." said a cold, imperious female voice. This from the Director of the clandestine Office of Strategic Intelligence, which did not officially exist, but had agents everywhere, monitoring the political currents of the empire's many factions and races.
"But in all honesty, your majesty, we simply don't know anything about these beings. they are a genuine first contact situation."
The King puffed his cheeks, and thought about it briefly, knowing what he decided, here, now, would affect the lives of billions. For the first time, well, ever, he would be using his powers for real. The Lord Chancellor was not here, nor were any of the House of Representatives. He had, in this emergency situation, the powers of an Emperor.
He hated every micron of it.
"Very well, transmit this message:
Salutations. We accept your intentions, and will meet aboard Station Zero- give them the co-ordinates- in precisely a twenty-fourth of the time it takes for our planet to rotate."He cleared his throat, supressing a slight glimmer of humour that the Lord Castellan would be transmitting a message as if he were a computerized clerk. "I am sure they can understand that, yes? Also, prepare a shuttle and a full complement of the Royal- no, the Vanguard. I want to do this first contact myself, and with real troops backing me up."
Protests died in the throats of the assembled heads of office at a glare from Kavahr. For this moment, Cedric's words were law. Plus, they reasoned, if the aliens made any aggressive actions, this old king would become a martyr, and the aliens would be blown out of the sky from a hundred different directions, securing the heads of office as the saviours of the empire, and allowing them to excercise even more power when Theodore was invested.

For his part, Cedric was both elated and terrified. At last, at the age of fifty-eight, he would be able to fulfill his boyhood dream- first contact.
Kavahr kept pace behind him silently, hiding his own desires, content to live for his royal master. Meeting these new aliens would be interesting, but he would not hesitate to end their lives if they posed a threat to the royal person.

On the Bridge of the Exploration Vessel F'thark

Salutations. We accept your intentions, and will meet on a station zero-one ... <coordinates inserted here> ... in just twenty-fourth of the time that occupies for our planet to rotation.“Hey, that's pretty clean for an initial reply,” exclaimed Ukki with delight. “This could be an easier translator calibration job than most.”

“Well, that'll be a relief,” sighed the captain. “It's always good to avoid saying things like, 'We'd like you to jam a stun-rod down our regurgitators'” Thurve looked around, saw his science advisor wasn't in its usual position, cursed, and toggled the intercom. “Druug, get the usual tools for a first contact and meet me in the shuttle bay.”

“Will do,” croaked the Zerfy, a surprisingly short answer for a scientist. Thurve resisted the impulse to inquire further.

“Shuttle?” asked Ukki. “You planning on some sightseeing?”

“These folks appear to be quite well armed,” replied the Broskin. “I'd rather not risk startling them with a transporter, just in case they've never seen one before.” Then Thurve grinned – not a pretty sight, that - at his Rané pilot. “You get to drive.”

Ukki sighed – not a pretty sound, or her part. “And I suppose you'll handle protocol?” It was a satisfying jab at her boss.

Thurve cursed. “Ah, d_mn. I almost forgot.” He downloaded the standard diplomatic protocols, and then paused. “I suppose we ought to bring D4...”

“If you don't want to foul things up, you mean?” Ukki gloated.

“I don't need this kind of abuse, Ukki,” the skipper snapped. “Activate D4, to join us in the shuttle bay.” Then the Broskin turned back to his pilot and motioned impatiently. “Get your numerous butts in gear.”

“Aw, c'mon boss,” the Rané jeered. “Don't talk like that to me. You know I'm your true love.”

“Move it, Ukki!” Thurve snapped.

On the F'thark's Shuttle

“Five minutes, boss,” chirped Ukki. “Any last words?”

“I'll be d_mn_d if I'll die with you by my side, Ukki,” snarled Thurve.

“No problem, boss,” laughed the Rané. “I'll stand behind you.”

Seemingly oblivious to the verbal sparring, D4 spoke in her soft, silky voice: “Might I suggest that we begin fine linguistic calibration by full duplex transmission of literary material.”

Druug leaned forward and whispered to Ukki, “Don't you love it when she talks dirty?”

The Rané was forced to suppress a laugh when Thurve shot her a searing glance. Then, turning back to the diplomatic avatar, he said: “That's a good idea. Tell them what we want to do, and then proceed.”Plibonigi samtempan tradukon inter ni, ni volus interŝanĝi literaturajn ekzemplojn. ni estos komenci: “For elirinta al la neesploritaj izolejoj de la malmoda fin de la okcidenta spiral brako de la Galaksio restas malgranda malrigard flava suno. Orbit ĉi tiu malproksime de malglate ninety-two milionoj mejloj estas tute negrava malgranda blua legomo planedo kies ape-descended vivo formoj estas sekve mirige primitiva ke ili ankoraŭ pensi diĝitan rigard estas bela bonorda ideo...”To improve simultaneous translation between us, we would want to exchange literary exemplars. We will be to begin “Away already finished exitting to the non-explored isolated-places of the unfashionable fin of the Western spiral an arm of the Galaxy remains small mis-regarded yellow sun. Orbit this person distantly of un-smoothly ninety-two millions miles is totally non-important small blue vegetable planet whose ape-descended a life forms is consequently amazally primitive that they still to think digit-like regard are a beautiful Northern-in-law idea...”¹
¹“Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun. Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-two million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.” Need I identify the source?

At Station Zero-One

The shuttle came to a rest in the hangar at the designated meeting place. Thurve and his colleagues prepared to disembark.

Druug examined the environmental data. “It looks like we'll be fine as long as everyone's nanobots work as they should. Keep your neural nets transmitting, just in case.”

Thurve turned away from the door to face his science officer. “Remember to secure the shuttle.”

“You think I'd forget?” the Zerfy croaked back in its baritone voice. “It's a long walk home, you know.”

Before Thurve could turn back, Ukki opened the door. D4 was standing right beside her.

“Boss,” Ukki said, “You're not going to believe this, but...” She paused.

“But what?” Thurve asked with annoyance, turning back to face Ukki. As he did, he found himself looking through the door, rendering Ukki's next words unnecessary.

“They all look like D4,” the Rané pilot said with obvious surprise, “Except that they're wearing clothes.”

OOC: Since I've been using pictures from “Tripping the Rift” as avatars on UII, I couldn't resist. D4 looks like Six (yowsa!), and the rest of this crew look like the wierdest bunch of creatures this side of Star Wars' alien cantina. Since you're neo-Victorians, I figured that you'd appreciate the moment. Have fun.

The Royal Shuttle docked with the cleared station, the hiss of hydraulics startling the King from his contemplations and mental planning for what would come ahead.
"We're in the Clear. Mark the King's Six." said the Vanguard Strike Leader in clipped, professional tones. All twelve Vanguard pointed their guns at the King, and then input a friendly fire command. It would be now impossible for any of the men to shoot at the King, the king's biospoor coded into the weaponry's highly experimental and advanced friendly fire recognition system.
He just hoped that it would work as well as his scientists assured him it would.
Last to leave the Shuttle, he walked through the narrow docking bay, the rear taken up by Kavahr and two vanguard, the front taken up by the other ten, all sweeping their way forward to the central hangar position, which had been mostly cleared of everything, by the simple expedient of opening it all to vacuum and then repressurized. Somewhere in close proximity would be dozens of abandoned craft of all sizes, along with a fair sized portion of cargo, the rough treatment of which would almost inevitably lead to someone, somewhere, filing for damages against the Station, the STC, or the Crown itself.
He took central position, still wearing his brand new funeral suit, dour, black and trimmed with gold braid and velvet ermine. He stood out like a sore thumb amongst the massive, muscular frames of Vanguard in their urban grey composite armour, their heavy plasma guns and Pulse Laser Rifles brandished with battle-honed discpline.
Running parallel to them, a gaggle of trained Interpreters and Diplomatic staff had been ferried here from wherever they had been, to do their damned best to make this work. Many were hurriedly dressed and others looked as if they had been in the middle of something. It was perhaps the sloppiest first contact in history, but also, perhaps, the most important.

As the doors slid open, he automatically composed himself into full regal majesty mode, smiling in welcome...and then froze.
Somewhere, an automatic national anthem began to play, only adding to the discomfort. King Cedric, ruler of three dozen worlds, billions of citizens, commander in chief for a day and supreme ruler of the Galactic Core... was blushing. He could sense a mixture of embarassment, lust, and open admiration coming from behind him. The diplomatic staff were just as stumped,with quivering lips, hungry eyes and...well, the less said about that the better.
Reminding himself that he had seen his wife naked on a number of occasions, and his daughters when they had been younger, plus he'd once seen naked synthoids when he'd surprised his wastrel son- he dug deep inside himself for all the reserves of pomp, regality and discpline that he could.
Ignoring the pressure in his groin, he began with full grandeur.
"Greetings, Friends from the Stars! Welcome to New Londra, Heart of the Albian Star Empire! We welcome you and yours....with full honour and equanimity.
We uh, look forward to... Establishing Trade! and Diplomatic...contact! with a mutual sharing of information..."
He shot hostile glares at the interpreters and diplomatic staff, who then got out clunky boxes and tried to transliterate the words to the linguistic pathways of the opposite aliens.
As he focused his eyes on a point just above the heads of the alien delegation, he noticed for the first time the interesting steel grey paintwork of the hangar bay. why, he could feel himself feeling better already! He thought hard about the most boring things he could, including most of his own daily routine.
"I am the King Cedric of this munficient Empire, and we *clears throat* would very much like to get to know you...people better, yes."
Someone was desperately trying not to snigger at the back, and even the hardest, most taciturn of the vanguard were beginning to crease up, seeing the funny side of things, at last thinking with their damned heads.

"I am pleased to see that we have...many things in common." he said, staring fixatedly at the bulkheads. My, weren't those rivets amazing things! hard, and firm, and, uh oh...
Someone was making a sound like trapped air escaping, as they crumpled to the floor, their sides heaving with the effort of not laughing. Someone would find themselves experiencing a world of pain when this First Contact was over. It was only a pity that the...more creative tortures had been banned by the Late Empress.

In the Hangar Bay of Station Zero-One

Ukki wasted no time grabbing D4's smock and pulling it closed in front of the avatar's bare body. “You'll catch cold,” she said with a maternal air, one that must have struck the aliens as absurd, coming from a being with three huge, very obviously female breasts.

“I'm perfectly comfortable,” protested D4.

“No, you're not,” hissed the Rané. “And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay covered.”

Horrified at the prospect that the whole encounter would be ruined by D4's unintentional anatomical display, Thurve pushed forward, attempting to block the aliens' view of the inappropriately voluptuous avatar as his pilot struggled to make her presentable. Fortunately, the alien leader had apparently recovered from his – its? - plight and began to speak:Salutations, friends of the stars! Welcome to new Londra, a heart of the Albian a star empire! Us welcome you and via.... with full honour and equanimity. Us oh, eager for attend... Establish a commerce! And diplomatic... contact! With reciprocal divide of informations.... I am the king Cedric of this person munificient empire, and us... <ahem> extremely would desire equine ...people you without fail... uh, yes. I am pleasurally... as to see that we have.... many common features.Not bad, the Broskin mused. At least the translator's working. That or scr_w_ng up completely.

Gathering his courage, Thurve spoke:Ni akceptas viajn salutojn goje, kaj propono nia amikeco. Ni havas ven de for komerci kun vi. Tiucela, ni deziras fabriki tunelon inter via spaco kaj nia.We accept your salutations gladly, and proposal our friendship. We have been from away to do business with be. <Untranslatable>, we desires to manufacture tunnel between your space and our.Leaning back, Thurve whispered to Ukki: “Is D4 decent yet?”

Ukki shot a icy look at the rebellious avatar, who seemed disinclined to care about her state of dress. “For the moment,” the Rané quipped. “And if she doesn't stay that way, I'll snatch her bald.”OOC: I can only imagine what the Crown Prince would do... And I imagine King Cedric's got to be concerned about that as well. But in the mean time, the hard part <groan> is behind us, so we can get down to business.

With D4 less scandalously but still quite scantily attired, the negotiations went quickly. It only took a few more minutes for her to grasp the local venacular. She was thus able to proceed quickly to the matter at hand, her voice almost purring out the alien tongue like a native.

“We are looking to establish trade throughout this galaxy. To that end, we need to build a permanent traversible wormhole from your galaxy to one of ours. As this system is very nearly at your galaxy's center, this is the ideal place for us to build this wormhole, which we call a 'gate'. Not that it has to be precisely in this system,” she added in a slightly breathy voice. “It can be anywhere you're willing to have it.”

“And,” she said with an alluring smile, “We'll be more than happy to pay you for the use of whatever system you choose as the location for our gate.”OOC: Your turn. At some point, you should probably ask us to show you where we come from, since we've effectively told you that we're from another galaxy.

http://z.about.com/d/animatedtv/1/0/H/Q/TTRNATVNUR_SCIFI_00008.jpg http://z.about.com/d/animatedtv/1/0/Z/P/TTRANDROID_SCIFI_00046.jpg

Relieved that Negiotiations could proceed as normal, the King dismissed half the Vanguard- the ones who had proven unable to contain their mirth- and got down to the nitty gritty of bargaining, requiring only a minimum of cajoling of the diplomatic aides from Kavahr.
"Let me see if I understand this correctly. You wish to build- a Gate- in our Empire, to facilitate trade...in this "galaxy"?" he frowned. He didn't like the implications of a transgalactic power. The Empire had had encounters with one such before, and it had not ended pleasently.
"Well, we are indeed the right people to come to. We are dedicated to furthering the prosperity of all through the expansion of Empire, and we'd be happy to share the benefits of our culture with yours. However, we'd like to know more about this "Gate", and any harmful side-effects it could possibly have, before we commit to such an undertaking."
He smiled pleasently, as a diplomat leaned over and whispered suggestions in his ear.

"We are also interested in learning about how it was you were able to arrive in our system so suddenly, and why it is that someone as ah, human-oid? as yourself is a...representative? for this transgalactic... group of aliens."

He was fully concerntrated on the matter at hand now, ruthlessly quashing memories of the...encounter. It all seemed fairly straightforward, but he wondered at the technology and ease with which communication had been established, and at the implications of "Gatebuilding". Would it bring a stream of even more revenue to an already enriched empire? Or would it drain those riches? and, he frowned, forcing himself to remember, what were the cultural implications of meeting a people with such lax attitudes regarding morality?
He wondered if this meeting would bode worse for his empire than the prospect of his son ascending the throne.

In the Hangar Bay of Station Zero-One

“The 'gate' we speak of is a traversable wormhole, held open by exotic matter. It allows instantaneous travel both ways, and is part of a larger gate system. A vessel can enter any gate in the system and be shunted in a matter of seconds to any other gate in the system,” replied D4. “Travel can take place either way, and no special equipment is required, other than an encoding transponder that allows the gate system to keep track of each vessel en route.”

“There are no adverse side effects,” the protocol avatar added, addressing one of Cedric's key concerns. “The wormhole poses no danger to the system that hosts it, and has no influence on that system's celestial mechanics, being gravitationally neutral.”

She smiled and continued, “It goes without saying that we will provide you the details on how to build such a transponder – it can be fabricated by any civilization that has mastered radio, so even the most primitive industrial societies can build one – and a fully indexed atlas of access nodes. We welcome you to use it to visit our space; we believe in free travel and open commerce.”

Noting some discomfort on the part of King Cedric, Thurve stepped in. “There are millions of different species and cultures within our space; if you like seeing new things and meeting new people, there's more of both than you can imagine. Of course,” he added with a confidential air, “Not everyone is eager to interact with other species, and we respect that. Every gate has a travel center where visitors can stop and get directions, travel advisories, local market information and tourist guides, translation software, hardware, and wetware, environmental support – you name it. Travel centers also handle local currency, credit, and customs issues.” The Broskin captain continued to exude congeniality. “This is all to help visitors interact with the many peoples in our space in a positive way, with the maximum degree of respect for local law and custom.” He hoped that this king would draw the obvious inference – namely, that the next time a Xotoxan or somebody who looked a lot like one showed up in these parts, he or she would take care to remain clothed when appropriate.

One of the King's advisors leaned close and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, and then, turning to D4, asked:We are also interested in learning about how it was you were able to arrive in our system so suddenly, and why it is that someone as ah, human-oid? as yourself is a...representative? for this transgalactic... group of aliens.“As for your first question,” the avatar answered in her sweet, silky voice, “We employ a space-warp drive capable of pseudo-velocities on the order of 10e+10 times the speed of light, so depending on the speed and range of your sensor systems, you might not have had a chance to detect us before we arrived. On the second point,” she paused, “I am our group's protocol expert, and hence charged with the task of taking the lead during initial contact meetings. As far as my appearance goes,” D4 added, “That is quite an accident, as absurdly unlikely as it seems. I take the form of a Xotoxan, a charming aboriginal race from my home galaxy. I think they're cute,” she concluded with a smile.

“An ... avatar?” the King asked, both puzzled and alarmed.

“Yes,” replied D4 pleasantly. “I'm an AI, and can take any form I please – but I like this one, and so I use it in preference to all others. Most species find it non-threatening.”

OOC: King Cedric is now left to consider the truly frightening consequences of this. Perhaps an arranged marriage for the Crown Prince followed by a long tour of duty on his part at a faraway colonial post is indicated...

BTW, although it might not occur to the King to ask, being an aboriginal species living in a tropical paradise with few if any natural dangers, the Xotoxans run around buck-naked all the livelong day.

Frowning, Cedric was rapidly re-evaluating the situation. These...people were very interesting, and he was somewhat alarmed to learn he had been communicating with some sort of Artifical Intelligence... he felt like recoiling in disgust, but he was far too professional for anything so crude.
"We will need to discuss the full implications of this amongst ourselves. The House of Representatives.."whispered a diplomat in the king's ear, coaching his response. He ignored the diplomat. He was King, and today, he had the power to make this descision. But it was one that would have an impact on his people for eons to come....

Steeling himself, he decided to play it safe. "We are grateful for the immense opportunity you have offered us, but such a massive step will require much deliberation- if it is alright by you, we would like to confer for..half a twenty-fourth of our planet's cycle. What you propose will have a monumental effect, and we need time to think it over." Smiling, he addressed the...aliens who gathered around the Avatar. It was hard to look at something his body said was a woman, but his mind said was a sophisticated mechanoid. He began to feel some sympathy for his eldest son. Perhaps this situation could be turned to his benefit, too. he mused. Alien marriages were forbidden to the royal family, but humans from beyond the Empire were known to exist. Plus, the dangers of such a marriage would be few, beyond the obvious secrecy needed to conceal the true nature of a marriage to such an...Avatar. Any Heirs could easily be produced via a surrogate mother, or with sophisticated, if clandestine, genetic technology.
Plus, the throne could always pass to a close cousin. Cedric was fairly confident that, when Theodore's time to pass came, many decades from now, the infant cousins of his house would be mature, strong rulers to inherit the empire.
Perhaps it was worth exploring, at a later date. For now, the full implications of access to such a vast...galactic cauldron of races, cultures and creeds needed to be discussed. He had no intention of consulting the House of Representatives, however. Instead he would summon the Empire's foremost Xenobiologists, Cultural experts and Political Advisors.
"Come, we have much to consider." he said to the diplomatic staff, as they proceeded off to a side room to muse in private.
When they returned, a decision that would affect the whole galaxy would be made.

In the Hangar Bay of Station Zero-One

“Take all the time you need,” offered Thurve, his voice exuding as much friendliness as possible. “There's no need for haste. Also,” the F'thrk's skipper continued, “Feel free to ask us for any additional data you need - on us, on the gate system, anything. We'll just send it over by comm link.”

“In the meantime,” the Broskin said, “We'll just wait inside our shuttle. Call us when you're ready.”

As soon as the party was safely out of sight, Thurve exploded. “What in the world were you thinking?!?” he yelled at D4. “Didn't you see how upset they were?!?”

“On the contrary,” D4 said, “A number of them were quite delighted.”

“Delighted?!?!?” cried the captain, not quite believing that D4 could be so far off the mark.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “They were showing clear signs of sexual arousal, which is quite consistent with Xotoxan behavior. Xotoxans are oversexed, as everybody knows; having no mating season, their sexual impulse is triggered by sensory inputs. This has produced a culture in which sex is fundamental to everything they do; all social contact among them is just another form of courtship behavior. The way you win their trust is by...”

“These aren't Xotoxans!!!” Thurve shouted. “They just look like Xotoxans on the outside.”

“No, the similarities are much more extensive than that,” D4 lectured. “Morphologically and biochemically, they are virtually identical.”

“That's true,” Druug interjected. “While you were gabbing, I was running some scans. Their resemblance to the Xotoxans is uncanny.”

For a moment, Thurve actually had nothing to say; whether this was a consequence of shock or anger was impossible to say. Ukki stepped in to cover for him.

“Xotox is a billion light years away,” she said, fists balled on her massive hips. “They simply can't be Xotoxans.”

“Well, of course not,” huffed the Zerfy, now defensive, having come to realize that he should have kept his mouth shut. “But they are remarkably similar...”

“More than that,” D4 took over. “They're virtual copies. And,” continuing on along her earlier track, “Sex plays as important a role for them as it does for the Xotoxans. It's in their language: look at the multiple meanings of their words 'intercourse', 'companion', 'mate', and 'congress'. If I don't miss my guess, they even seal alliances with marriage ties; I wouldn't be surprised if we concluded these negotiations with a good f-”

“Enough!!!” thundered Thurve, who had regained his voice. “I'm in charge here,” he said, waggling one of his digits at his upstart subordinate, “And I'm telling you to put on some decent clothing right now.”

“It will only make things more difficult later on,” sniffed the avatar.

“Well, if I'm wrong, you can take them off later,” the Broskin said on a voice rich with sarcasm.

“Should I then choose clothing that can easily be shed?” offered D4.

“Dress the same way they do,” snapped Ukki, who was noting her skipper's apoplexy. “If you're right about the sex, I'm sure they're more than capable of waiting while you undress.”

OOC: <Sigh> I found a picture of Six of This in Victorian dress, but I can't link to it. But you get the idea...

After much intense discussion and debate, King Cedric waved his hand to indicate he had made up his mind. The conference room relucantly fell silent.
"Gentlemen, I believe that, having considered all the main points and considered all the sides, that I am ready to make my descision."
The room collectively held their breath. Despite the growing shift of power to the House of Representatives, and the increasing prominence of a Democratic movement in the Empire, the King still held executive power, and what he decided, here and now, would impact forever the Empire's policy regarding these new aliens, and their offer.

Returning to the main hangar bay, the king was pleased to see that the Avatar had adopted a more moral form of dress, indicating perhaps that these aliens could indeed be adapted, slowly, to their way of culture, rather than infecting the Empire with a creed of immorality and sexuality.
Considering his words carefully, he made his response.
"We have deliberated carefully on the issue at hand, and have considered all points of the arguement. Your offer is very tempting, but it is important for us to determine to what extent this...offer is beneficial, and to what extent it could be harmful to us, both in the short-term and in the long-term."
Allowing his words to sink in, he then continued:
"Having said that, if we were to accept your offer, we would wish to maintain the most strict control possible on our end of the...Gate, in order to allow us time to adjust to the changes, and also to allow us to slowly build our knowledge of your ways and your peoples, so that we might devise ways to accomodate them in our Empire.
Over time, we might allow a loosening of this control. However, we need to know if it is possible for us to indeed do this effectively, and what...limits there are on this technology, to prevent you simply expanding it, or using it for...shall we say, negative purposes." he smiled, indicating he did not mean any offense.

"If this is possible- then, I, King Cedric Lancestar the First, Ruler of the Core Worlds, Archduke of the Outer Worlds, Maharajah of the Crown Worlds, Defender of the Frontier and Lord of the Unknown Rim, hereby use the power invested in me by the divine providence of my ancestors and the secular power granted by Law to hereby accept your offer, and to authorize the commission of the construction of a Gate in the outer gas clouds of the Nova Sol system, to be maintained and controlled by Officers delegated by the Crown in conjunction with-" he grasped, realizing he didn't even know the name of the Alien collective. "-with the Gatebuilders." he finished, satisfied.

"I trust these terms will be satisfactory?" he asked.

In the Hangar Bay of Station Zero-One

Thurve hesitated. He knew that the consortium would have no problem meeting these conditions on their face, but he was concerned about granting the locals too much control over access to this galaxy.

After all, this was a pretty big galaxy as far as galaxies went, although it wasn't the only such galaxy in the area; in fact, there was an even bigger galaxy - a much bigger galaxy - not too far away from this one. That galaxy, of course, was already being staked out by a rival company, but the other one, somewhat smaller than this one, hadn't been; and there were also a brace of dwarf galaxies in their neighborhood besides, any one of which could provide another way in. If they had to work their way around whatever restrictions this king was planning to impose on their use of the new gate, they could. But it would cut into profit margins, at least until they had a good alternate route.

He motioned his crew to close ranks. “What do you think?” the Broskin captain asked. “Do they control the entire galaxy, or are there other cultures here we could trade with if we get past this King Cedric's space?”

“It is doubtful that their control extends much beyond the galactic core,” answered D4. “I base that assessment upon their current level of technology, as well as the relative - but not complete - absence of other species among their ranks.”

Thurve nodded. “So we should try to get passage rights,” he said.

Turning back to King Cedric, the skipper said: “If your concern is over granting us unrestricted access to your territory, we are more than happy to agree to that. We can require any incoming vessel to stop at that nearby facility we spoke of and receive clearance to enter your space. That is not an uncommon request,” Thurve offered. “We are often asked to get permission before visiting certain systems, after all. They're your worlds, so we happily accept your sovereignty over them.” The Broskin gestured expansively. “We're pretty easy to get along with.”

“But,” the Brosking continued, “If I may ask, does your control extend throughout the whole of this galaxy, or just through its innermost regions? If the latter, we would like to reserve passage rights through your territory.” He paused, thought, and then added: “We could consent to requiring all traffic through your space to have an official of your government on board, so that you could tell us where and where not to go while crossing the space under your authority; this would have the added benefit of allowing you to guarantee that we confined ourselves to approved passage routes.”

“You see, the thing is,” continued the captain, “If there are other peoples elsewhere in this galaxy not under your control, we would like to be able to visit them, too.”

As Thurve finished, D4 cleared her throat. “He's the leader of a government,” she whispered to her superior. “He wants to see your credentials.”

“Damn, almost forgot,” Thurve murmured. Then, speaking up, he told the King. “If we can resolve these issues,” he told the king pleasantly, “I'm empowered to consent to an agreement with you in my capacity as a Commissioned Plenipotentiary of the Most Serene Republic of the Cosmic Balance.” Seeing King Cedric's surprise at the name, he shrugged - which, coming from a Broskin, was a rather comical gesture. “Never mind the name,” he said. “It's three or four billion years old and doesn't mean anything any more; it's just that we never got around to changing it, and nobody really cares much what we call it anyway. Just call us 'TCB' - everybody else does.”

OOC: I wasn't sure how tight you wanted control to be; we'll agree to whatever you want, although if it's too restrictive we'll want the right to renegotiate in five years or so.

King Cedric hesitated, and then resumed his dialogue, figuring that they'd find out sooner or later, and that he did not know what their Gates were capable of, or how they dealt with those who tried to decieve them.
"Alas, no, we do not rule this entire Galaxy. There are many realms beyond ours, and vast areas of uncharted space of which we have little to no knowledge.
We will grant your... Republic? a Free Trader's charter for conducting..well, whatever you wish, beyond our borders." he said with growing confidence. He knew now this momentous meeting was about to be concluded, and that the events set in motion would greatly change the Empire. But thanks to his ingenuity and sharp-wits, he had managed to impose a cultural buffer zone, of sorts, allowing the Empire time to adapt and intergrate these new elements, and grow stronger, rather than faltering and stagnating, as it had begun to do so in recent years.
Something they had said tickled at his mind, but he resisted the urge to goggle with incredulity. Perhaps it had been a minor translation error. It was impossible for this republic to be four billion years old. It was impossible for any RACE to be that old. No, they could measure time differently, or more likely there was a slight mistake in translation.

"As to controls, we thank you for agreeing to our conditions for sovereignty. We propose the construction of a station near where you intend to build the Gate, so that those who intend to visit worlds or territories within the Empire can be properly processed and registered, and those who do not can be appropriately tracked and recorded, so as to ensure they do not attempt to visit any part of the Empire without having undergone appropriate clearance.
This is a mere formality only, of course, but if you will allow us to enact this, then I believe we can agree to the construction of this Gate."he paused, thinking quickly, searching for anything else he needed to consider before concluding again.

"One more thing- Will the traffic be, as you have suggested, two-way? What, proceedures will, ahem, our citizens have to follow once they enter your region of space?"