Marionetonia
18-11-2007, 10:01
It wasn't just another rock in space. It didn't take much of a look to see that. There were spires sticking out of it! And there were running lights in some of the craters. That someone could hollow out a 10-kilometer asteroid and turn it into a makeshift starship made a statement about their abilities. That they would choose to do so when a prefabricated starship would have been much more attractive said something about their humility.
Yet, they were a fairly unremarkable race known as the Borg. And this bunch was a democracy, as evidenced by the room in the center of the asteroid that was marked "High Council Chamber." But not all was well in the democracy, as evidenced by the two Borg standing outside of the door: councilmember Falsus and a guardian soldier by the name of Bortu. Bortu, a huge, burly Klingon in his former existence, easily towered over the short, slightly-built and formerly human Falsus. Still, it was Falsus' movements that showed confidence, and Bortu's that showed tension, and perhaps a little fear.
"Open it!" the little Borg bellowed, shaking a mechanical claw at the end of his right arm, a look of utter rage taking over his features.
"I have my orders, Councilmember," Bortu replied, almost cringing.
"This is a direct violation of the Council Charter! OPEN! THAT! DOOR!"
"I'm sorry, your honor," Bortu replied.
"So be it," Falsus countered, extending the claw. From somewhere inside, a small coil popped up in the center of the circular claw's palm.
First, Bortu looked astonished. Then, after a moment, his face turned to a mixture of fear and concentration as he, too, began to manipulate the subspace around him. Before long, a small sphere of distorted space began to appear midway between them.
On the other side of the doorway, six chairs were arranged around a large, black table. Two of these were vacant this time, though--one at the head of the table and one and one at its right hand. A light from overhead provided most of the illumination, but there were panels along the walls that added to the ambience.
The four Borg seated at the table were obviously of two different camps. On one side, Boutrus and T'ourus, large and thick-bodied, sat with arms folded and looks of extreme arrogance on their faces. On the other, the tall and energetic yet lanky Bromus and the aged but not beaten Ver pierced the dim light of the chamber with their angry gazes.
"Thus, I yield the remainder of my time and call for a direct vote on our measure against the proposed meetings," Boutrus said.
"Well," Ver sputtered, "never in my life have I voted--."
"Councilmember Ver," T'ourus cut in. "Stop delaying the inevitable. I suggest we take the vote now, as Councilmember Boutrus suggests."
"Councilmember T'ourus", Ver shot back, "you are out of order. I can ban you from future meetings if you cannot control yourself."
Behind them, unnoticed by all but one, a small red spot appeared in the center of the chamber hatchway.
"Do not lecture me us on matters of procedure, my fellow councilmembers," Bromus said, the calm of a steamhammer etched into his features, as it forever seemed to be. "We have broken enough of them in this meeting alone to fill a large tome."
"Have we?" T'ourus replied, a smirk contorting his face. "Then we shall have to remedy this at our next meeting."
Bromus chuckled slightly. "Gentlemen, I'm afraid it can't wait that long--fortunately."
The chamber door simply exploded. Boutrus and T'ourus ducked to avoid flying debris, but, somehow, it seemed to magically avoid Bromus and Ver. When it was over, Falsus stood in the hole where the door had been, claw on a small flange that was all that remained of it. Indignantly, head held erect, he walked into the void between the hallway and the chamber.
"Thank you for your cooperation, guard," he said. "Now, I have a council meeting to attend."
"What is the meaning of this?" asked an incensed Boutrus.
"I cannot let you pass, councilmember Falsus," the guard said.
Falsus leered at him. "Just try to stop me," he said.
"Guards," T'ourus clucked. "Arrest him! He has violated the terms of his suspension!"
"And since when do you suspend a councilmember without first telling him?" the small Borg returned. Then, he took another step through the doorway.
A small horde of guards--some humanoid, some flying drones and others simply creatures made of cables--transported in and instantly moved to restrain him. And just when things were about to get messy, a voice came from around the corner.
"Stop! What are you doing?"
Bortu looked, and the expression on his face changed to one of near worship. "Mister President," he said.
He would have been a very unremarkable humanoid had he not been cybernated. He was taller than Falsus, yet shorter than Boutrus, like just about everybody. But the look of compassion on his face differed markedly from the expressions on any of the councilmembers.
"Brothers," he said, "what could posess us to war with one another? Surely, we can solve the problems facing the Borg together."
"Ohh, there was no problem," Falsus countered. "The door wouldn't open. These gentlemen were merely helping me to make it passable again."
President Hugh strode up to the doorway. Slowly. "Falsus," he said, "one of these days, your impatience is going to kill us."
"Or save us," Falsus replied.
Hugh turned to face the guards. "Please let us pass," he said.
As they moved out of the way, he turned back to Falsus. "You realize, my friend, that you had no chance whatsoever against those guards."
"And you realize, by the way," Falsus replied with a smirk, "that I was monitoring your progress en route to the council chamber."
"One of these days, I'm going to understand your sense of humor."
"They hope not," Falsus replied, indicating the other council members.
The two members of the council took their chairs as the guards settled back into non-alert status and technicians began reforming the doors.
"Now, Gentlemen," Hugh said, "what is--."
"A patrol," T'ourus said, "discovered the hulk of a starship--destroyed from the inside out! It is proof of the warlike nature of the races in this sector!"
"Just a moment," Falsus cut in. "Let me assimilate this infor--." His expression changed to one of disgust. "This proves nothing," he said. "Look at the metal analysis. That ship hasn't been in service in more than a century!"
"Well," Boutrus retorted, "if that's not proof enough--."
"Honestly, councilmember Boutrus," Falsus countered, "would you have us be judged by what we were like a hundred years ago?"
"Face it, Falsus," T'ourus said, "your ideas about peace and alliances will be the death of all of us! ALL of us!"
"Enough," Hugh said. "Who among us can know what the future will bring?"
"It will bring our death," T'ourus said, "if we make decisions...recklessly."
"Soon," Hugh said, "for the first time in our history, we will have the opportunity to engage other citizens of the galaxy in peaceful negotiation. Is taking that chance a reckless decision or a bold one? I give you time to ponder that question. By my executive privalege, I adjourn the council until tomorrow's meeting time."
--------------------------------------------
OOC:
Anybody wanna hang out with the new, Awakened Borg?
Yet, they were a fairly unremarkable race known as the Borg. And this bunch was a democracy, as evidenced by the room in the center of the asteroid that was marked "High Council Chamber." But not all was well in the democracy, as evidenced by the two Borg standing outside of the door: councilmember Falsus and a guardian soldier by the name of Bortu. Bortu, a huge, burly Klingon in his former existence, easily towered over the short, slightly-built and formerly human Falsus. Still, it was Falsus' movements that showed confidence, and Bortu's that showed tension, and perhaps a little fear.
"Open it!" the little Borg bellowed, shaking a mechanical claw at the end of his right arm, a look of utter rage taking over his features.
"I have my orders, Councilmember," Bortu replied, almost cringing.
"This is a direct violation of the Council Charter! OPEN! THAT! DOOR!"
"I'm sorry, your honor," Bortu replied.
"So be it," Falsus countered, extending the claw. From somewhere inside, a small coil popped up in the center of the circular claw's palm.
First, Bortu looked astonished. Then, after a moment, his face turned to a mixture of fear and concentration as he, too, began to manipulate the subspace around him. Before long, a small sphere of distorted space began to appear midway between them.
On the other side of the doorway, six chairs were arranged around a large, black table. Two of these were vacant this time, though--one at the head of the table and one and one at its right hand. A light from overhead provided most of the illumination, but there were panels along the walls that added to the ambience.
The four Borg seated at the table were obviously of two different camps. On one side, Boutrus and T'ourus, large and thick-bodied, sat with arms folded and looks of extreme arrogance on their faces. On the other, the tall and energetic yet lanky Bromus and the aged but not beaten Ver pierced the dim light of the chamber with their angry gazes.
"Thus, I yield the remainder of my time and call for a direct vote on our measure against the proposed meetings," Boutrus said.
"Well," Ver sputtered, "never in my life have I voted--."
"Councilmember Ver," T'ourus cut in. "Stop delaying the inevitable. I suggest we take the vote now, as Councilmember Boutrus suggests."
"Councilmember T'ourus", Ver shot back, "you are out of order. I can ban you from future meetings if you cannot control yourself."
Behind them, unnoticed by all but one, a small red spot appeared in the center of the chamber hatchway.
"Do not lecture me us on matters of procedure, my fellow councilmembers," Bromus said, the calm of a steamhammer etched into his features, as it forever seemed to be. "We have broken enough of them in this meeting alone to fill a large tome."
"Have we?" T'ourus replied, a smirk contorting his face. "Then we shall have to remedy this at our next meeting."
Bromus chuckled slightly. "Gentlemen, I'm afraid it can't wait that long--fortunately."
The chamber door simply exploded. Boutrus and T'ourus ducked to avoid flying debris, but, somehow, it seemed to magically avoid Bromus and Ver. When it was over, Falsus stood in the hole where the door had been, claw on a small flange that was all that remained of it. Indignantly, head held erect, he walked into the void between the hallway and the chamber.
"Thank you for your cooperation, guard," he said. "Now, I have a council meeting to attend."
"What is the meaning of this?" asked an incensed Boutrus.
"I cannot let you pass, councilmember Falsus," the guard said.
Falsus leered at him. "Just try to stop me," he said.
"Guards," T'ourus clucked. "Arrest him! He has violated the terms of his suspension!"
"And since when do you suspend a councilmember without first telling him?" the small Borg returned. Then, he took another step through the doorway.
A small horde of guards--some humanoid, some flying drones and others simply creatures made of cables--transported in and instantly moved to restrain him. And just when things were about to get messy, a voice came from around the corner.
"Stop! What are you doing?"
Bortu looked, and the expression on his face changed to one of near worship. "Mister President," he said.
He would have been a very unremarkable humanoid had he not been cybernated. He was taller than Falsus, yet shorter than Boutrus, like just about everybody. But the look of compassion on his face differed markedly from the expressions on any of the councilmembers.
"Brothers," he said, "what could posess us to war with one another? Surely, we can solve the problems facing the Borg together."
"Ohh, there was no problem," Falsus countered. "The door wouldn't open. These gentlemen were merely helping me to make it passable again."
President Hugh strode up to the doorway. Slowly. "Falsus," he said, "one of these days, your impatience is going to kill us."
"Or save us," Falsus replied.
Hugh turned to face the guards. "Please let us pass," he said.
As they moved out of the way, he turned back to Falsus. "You realize, my friend, that you had no chance whatsoever against those guards."
"And you realize, by the way," Falsus replied with a smirk, "that I was monitoring your progress en route to the council chamber."
"One of these days, I'm going to understand your sense of humor."
"They hope not," Falsus replied, indicating the other council members.
The two members of the council took their chairs as the guards settled back into non-alert status and technicians began reforming the doors.
"Now, Gentlemen," Hugh said, "what is--."
"A patrol," T'ourus said, "discovered the hulk of a starship--destroyed from the inside out! It is proof of the warlike nature of the races in this sector!"
"Just a moment," Falsus cut in. "Let me assimilate this infor--." His expression changed to one of disgust. "This proves nothing," he said. "Look at the metal analysis. That ship hasn't been in service in more than a century!"
"Well," Boutrus retorted, "if that's not proof enough--."
"Honestly, councilmember Boutrus," Falsus countered, "would you have us be judged by what we were like a hundred years ago?"
"Face it, Falsus," T'ourus said, "your ideas about peace and alliances will be the death of all of us! ALL of us!"
"Enough," Hugh said. "Who among us can know what the future will bring?"
"It will bring our death," T'ourus said, "if we make decisions...recklessly."
"Soon," Hugh said, "for the first time in our history, we will have the opportunity to engage other citizens of the galaxy in peaceful negotiation. Is taking that chance a reckless decision or a bold one? I give you time to ponder that question. By my executive privalege, I adjourn the council until tomorrow's meeting time."
--------------------------------------------
OOC:
Anybody wanna hang out with the new, Awakened Borg?