NationStates Jolt Archive

The Royal Interplanetary Democratic Imperial Empire (short form) of Siev had never officially acknowledged that there were any other civilized life-forms in the universe. This was problematic, especially since the Sievese had no such inhibitions, and were continually returning from vacations or business trips to places such as Sunset or Scolopendra which the government had at first insisted were entirely fictitious, then later attributed them as distant, outlying, and recently colonized parts of the Empire. But this situation of denial could not last forever, especially since the capital planet of Qash and its orbiting station, Qash L7, had become minor hubs of commerce at which foreign ships could occasionally be seen, frequently disgorging aliens who mingled freely amongst the populace.

Therefore, at length, the Royal Sievese Star Navy was ordered to deploy a specially modified science vessel in search of extrasievical life. Fortunately, unlike most of his commanding officers, veteran xalbi Faayan Moktab had encountered aliens before on several missions (and had reported them to his superiors, although they couldn't seem to fathom how any other race could possibly be as advanced as the Sievese), and had some idea how to find them.

Moktab had another thing going for him. His crew (technically seventy strong, although fifty-eight of them were only statistics) was also highly experienced, albeit rather cynical as a result. His XO, Junbi Victory Kalesh, had been on an earlier first contact attempt which had broken down and was never spoken of again; the ship's miracle mechanic (Dohbi Ch'kahladuvatrekonil Sain) had outfitted the AI with an automatic translator doohickey; and, of course, the ship came with a full complement of guided missiles and laser cannons, despite being technically classified as a science vessel.

Once the RSSN Cxaxukluth had cleared the solar system, it began to lock down as the Speed of Plot Drive was powered up in preparation for the hyperspace jump. Engineering was particularly clear about this: "We're going to power all non-essential systems down so we can do the immaterium crawl," helanbi Jhordael Aford announced over the intercom.

There was a pause.

"Oh, shit." Static replaced text.

"Aford-helan?" asked Moktab, but Kalesh broke in. "Old engineering practical joke, Moktab-xal. Almost as old as turning off the artificial gravity." She felt the telltale bump and immediately hit the shipwide tranquilizer dispenser, as anyone who witnessed the horrors of hyperspace became insane (or maybe because Ventura Pharmaceuticals was a major contributor to the navy's annual fundraisers). For Moktab, there was a moment out of time, as though he had suddenly fallen into a deep sleep; the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake by one of his officers.

"Jump successful," the computer informed him.

"Query. Are there any inhabited systems within sublight range?" Moktab asked (the query was strictly unnecessary, but it decreased the likeliness of a snarky non-answer. Sievese programmers had a sense of humour in all the wrong places.)

"Negative, Xalbi."

Moktab paused. "Er... any spacefaring vessels?"

"One. The RSSN Cxaxukluth."

"Nobody then." He activated the intercom. "Aford-helan: how long until we can use the hyperdrive again?"

"I cannot be certain, Moktab-xal," Aford responded from afar. "The manual stipulates only one jump every one hundred and eighty seconds, to give the engine time to cool down. But I know for a fact that you can do another jump after only three minutes, and with only minute chances of zombification or explosive decompression."

"Um, all right," Moktab said. "When you're ready, then."

The second jump landed them only three light-years from the nearest inhabited system, but the computer informed them that its inhabitants had yet to evolve into multicellular organisms. The third jump took them closer into the galactic core to a very promising star system, or at least very promising if you happened to subsist on superheated hydrogen (it had no planets). The fourth jump finally yielded something.

When Moktab came awake again -- now increasingly disoriented -- it was to see Kalesh examining the Spacedy Radar-substitute. She was the only one who didn't seem to be half asleep in the aftermath of multiple doses of knockout gas. "We've found a good first contact system, xalbi," she said. "Not only is it inhabited, but it's right along a minor galactic through route with a terminus near Orion."

"Excellent, Kalesh-jun," Moktab said. "Signs of any other ships?"

"No, Moktab-xal, but I know how these things work," she said. "In addition to the inhabited planet, you get ships from a few different societies -- usually a regular science vessel, maybe a space pirate, at least one military convoy or giant space battleship which will order you to prepare for boarding. Sometimes you see a colony ship, too, especially on the minor highways where they're looking for an uninhabited planet to settle on."

"Hmmm." Moktab turned to the Communications Officer, Dohbi Roger Hekyfpw. "Hekyfpw-doh, please transmit the following message."

"Will do, xalbi."

He launched into the pre-prepared statement. "Greetings exclamation point. I am Xalbi Faayan Moktab of the Royal Sievese Star Navy ship italics Cxuxakluth end italics period. While you may have encountered the people of Siev before comma on missions of business or pleasure comma this is the first time that the government of the Sievese Empire has officially contacted any outside nation period. As such comma we would be honoured to invite representatives of the great bracket insert name of recipient's nationality bracket civilization to discuss foreign affairs with us on board our vessel comma or at any other location you deem appropriate period. May bracket insert name of recipient's favoured deity bracket continue to shower good fortune on you comma and have a great day exclamation point."

"Bravo, encore," Hekyfpw muttered, and sent the message. It was broadcast on several frequencies, in such a way that it could be picked up not only by the inhabitants of the system but also by the other starships that would undoubtedly be passing by at a fortuitous moment (as they always did).

"My Lord Governor, we are receiving a transmission from an unknown vessel." An officer in the planetary defense force stood in an office, at full attention. He placed a data-slate containing a transmission at a desk, where a middle-aged man sat.

Lord Governor Eisen Sturm looked up from his own data-slate. He had been promoted to the rank of Lord-Governor of this particular subsector of space, after his outnumbered and outgunned defense fleet of 4 ships stood up against an alien fleet of 25 until reinforcements could arrive. Due to his skill in coordinating such a defense, the High Lords of Angenteria had granted him the position of Lord-Governor, where he would rule from the planet of Otherium II.

He picked up the file, and examined it:

Greetings exclamation point. I am Xalbi Faayan Moktab of the Royal Sievese Star Navy ship italics Cxuxakluth end italics period. While you may have encountered the people of Siev before comma on missions of business or pleasure comma this is the first time that the government of the Sievese Empire has officially contacted any outside nation period. As such comma we would be honoured to invite representatives of the great bracket insert name of recipient's nationality bracket civilization to discuss foreign affairs with us on board our vessel comma or at any other location you deem appropriate period. May bracket insert name of recipient's favoured deity bracket continue to shower good fortune on you comma and have a great day exclamation point

He chuckled a little. These aliens were certainly full of it.

"Send them a response. I'll be down in a minute."

"Yes, my lord." The officer saluted briskly, and left the office.

Xalbi Faayan Moktab of the Royal Sievese Star Navy,

This is Lord-Governor Eisen Sturm of the Duticon subsector, representing the Holy Imperium of Angenteria. We are happy to be meeting a new race who has had no official contact with outside races before, and would like to discuss matters of foreign affairs with you at the earliest opportunity.

May the Immortal Emperor watch over you,
Eisen Sturm
Lord-Governor Duticon

Making sure the message was in order, Sturm forwarded it to the communications relays, and headed for the PDF tactical command center, situated underneath his palace.

Xalbi Moktab examined the first message.

"What I don't get is -- he identified himself by name and title in the message, so why does he do it again afterwards? Is he worried we'll forget?"

"It must be an arcane alien custom. Foreign -- and thus by nature less enlightened -- races often display such traits, Moktab-xal," answered one of the officers, a Junbi named Sz'zyki Fangpfui.

(Kalesh considered making a sarcastic remark, but there is a time and a place for everything.)

"Hmmm. Well, to indicate our willingness to accept them at face value, we will take them up on their peculiarities. Hekypfw-doh?"

"Ready to transmit, xalbi."

"Er...." Moktab looked down at the response he had drafted. "We greet the Holy Imperium of Angenteria semicolon and with your approval comma Lord hyphen Governor comma we will send down envoys to your planet in our shuttle period. We are eager to set foot upon the soil of another world comma and a meeting place on your planet would enable more coherent discussion period. Line break May the favour of Azathoth be upon you comma line break Faayan Moktab line break Xalbi of the vessel italics Cxuxakluth end italics line break Royal Sievese Star Navy line break Royal Interplanetary Democratic Imperial Empire of Siev. End message."

"A shuttle, Moktab-xal?" Kalesh sounded skeptical. "We could just use the transporter."

"Ah, but you forget, not all alien races have achieved our level of technological ingenuity, Kalesh-jun," Moktab said. "Okay, I can't say that with a straight face. But shuttles have so much more style."

"What style?" Kalesh said. "To me they always just said 'We can't afford a proper transporter.'"

Moktab had a point, however. Sievese shuttles were iconic, with the RSSN logo emblazoned boldly on the sides and with a pleasingly Gothic appearance -- as though they had been built in the twelfth century, except of course Siev didn't have centuries the same way Earth did, but perhaps the Angenterians would recognize it.

Otherium II
PDF Tactical Command Center

The doors to the command center slid open, and Sturm walked through, hands behind his back.

"My Lord Governor." The local general of the PDF, Regina Ophelius, saluted with parade ground efficiency. She had been in Sturm's service for quite some time, and both had grown accustomed to each other's presence. While not to go as far as saying a love affair existed between them, as they both had their own convictions, they trusted each other intently and indefinitely. Sturm returned his salute.

"What's new, General."

"The alien vessel sent us another message." She began. "They're odd, to say the least. When we first received the message, we wondered if the universal translators had got it wrong, as the punctuation of the message was only partially done. It took us a moment to actually realize that they didn't use any punctuation marks or a vestige of grammar in their message, and actually sent it out like that."

Sturm smiled, quietly amused. Did they think Angenterians so ignorant that we can't decipher a simple sentence? Well, anyway, he had to move past it. Time for some meet-and-greet.

"The jist of the message, sir..." the general continued "...is that they respectfully ask your permission to take a shuttle down and speak with you."

"Tell them yes." The governor responded. "Transmit them the coordinates to landing pad 6, and send an honor guard to meet me there."

"Yes, sir." Ophelius nodded, and went to carry out the orders.

Xalbi Faayan Moktab of the Royal Sievese Star Navy,
We are glad that you wish to meet with us for the discussion of matters of foreign affairs. We are sending you the coordinates to where you may land, where I will personally be there to meet you.
Eisen Sturm

...but also by the other starships that would undoubtedly be passing by at a fortuitous moment (as they always did).

OOC: Well, when you put it that way, how can I resist?

IC:
As if answering some unheard whistle, another ship plunged grandly into the system. With a gravitational signature rivaling a small moon, the massive vessel was concealed within a projected image – 60 km of jutting battlements and gleaming turrets, giving the bizarre impression of an ancient castle, most likely inhabited by vampires.

This apparition was still accelerating forward when it entered the system, casually ignoring the fact that it was moving far faster than the speed of light. When it was some 15 light minutes away from the Sievese vessel, however, it seemed to stop completely for a moment, then drifted on at a few kilometers per second. After a short time, it sent out an answering transmission.

“Greetings to you, Xalbi Faayan Moktab. Power down all systems immediately, and prepare to be boar-”
“What are you doing?! You are not sending that!”
“Open mike, Captain.”
“WHAT?!?!”
“JOKING, joking!”
“Praise [violet]! Now, Iva-”
“There’s no need to power down anything. We come in-”
“You’re really transmitting?! Enough! Let me talk to them with no more interference! Er, my apologies, strangers. Please forgive us for our ship’s twisted sense of humor. I am Sal Morinas, captain of the Crawling Chaos. My crew and I serve the Underground Empire of The Tunnels, and we would be honored to discuss diplomatic matters aboard your vessel or ours. Rest assured, he will not harm you.”

As Moktab prepared to shuttle down to the surface, the computer beeped loudly and "Incoming Transmission: Audio" appeared on one of the larger screens. He halted for long enough to listen to it, and as the message played out, rapidly made his way back to the Command Chair of Power.

"Open a channel," he commanded.

"Already open, Moktab-xal," Hekypfw answered. "Otherwise they couldn't be taking to us."

"Very well, then." Moktab hit a button. The message to reach Crawling Chaos emerged as "Greetings, Morinas-captain! We fully understand your difficulties with your ship, ours can get pretty temperamental when we forget the monthly virgin sacrifice... eh... what's that? Oh, heh heh, my sincere apologies comma Morinas-captain period. I completely neglected to use the formal speaking style semicolon amazing how one can forget oneself in space period. Anyway comma I and my primary cultural attaché are currently on the way to another meeting comma however my first officer will be able to welcome you onto our ship to discuss foreign affairs period. Please inform her what your preferred method of transportation is so we can prepare a bay period. Thank you and may the favour of Azathoth be upon you line break-- what? Oh, right. Thanks." Static.

A few minutes later Moktab and his Cultural Officer, unfortunately named Irigo Batkom, had gathered in Shuttle Bay C to enter the most magnificently painted shuttle in the Sievese Navy, at least in its painter's opinion. Black except for a gold stripe that, due to the shape of the craft, formed a sort of V, painted onto the gold stripe in black was the ubiquitous Spaceship-and-Cthulhu of the RSSN. Once they were inside and it had emerged from the mighty bay doors into the black void of space, Batkom looked at his Xalbi with an air of unquiet.

"I can't help wondering what these aliens look like, Moktab-xal," Batkom said. "Or whether our eyes will even be able to comprehend them without driving the mind insane."

Moktab shrugged. "I'd expect them to look very much like humans. This planet has much the same atmospheric composition as Qash. There may be some differences in evolution, but those are usually limited to making them look like giant fodawls, or bipedal smeerps, or sometimes nine-vwoosh-tall grakkons; or even just ordinary people with strange markings on their foreheads."

"And why's that, Moktab-xal?" Batkom asked.

"Well.... in all of our 'unofficial' encounters with aliens, most of them have been vaguely humanoid or, if not humanoid, at least similar to Qashic animals we'll be able to recognize," Moktab said. "You realize we're not supposed to know this, of course."

"Of course." Batkom nodded. "Er...."

Silence fell as the shuttle began its descent into the atmosphere.

"You sure about leaving the first contact attempt in Kalesh-jun's hands, Moktab-xal?"

"Oh, I'm sure she'll do fine." Moktab paused and doomed the entire operation from the get-go. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"'What could possibly go wrong?' That's even worse than 'Nothing can stop us now!', Moktab-xal," Batkom said. "That almost guarantees that something will go wrong!"

"Surely we've outgrown such silly superstitions," Moktab commented, dragging Cxuxakluth further into the quicksand. "Fate is there to be tempted."

Batkom groaned but said nothing.

Before long they were floating down towards the shuttle pad. As the forward thrusters fired again to decrease the speed further, Batkom caught his first glimpse of the alien delegation. He was rather disappointed.

----------------------------

Moktab was the first to emerge from the shuttle, and he stepped down onto the ground and paused to orient himself. Feet together, back straight, uniform impeccable, facing south-southwest: all in order. He made a ninety-degree turn, beamed, and said*: "Lord Governor Sturm rhetorical question? I am Xalbi Moktab of Siev period. Please allow me to introduce my cultural officer comma Irigo Batkom period."

* To the ears of those with personal translators. To those without, it sounded more like "Gami-endu Sturm chzalt kahnduhya? Gan-kpoi Moktab xalbi Sievhe. Thenoth-kpoi basrgy ka girendo-sta Irigo Batkom."

Sentient Life. Always a great reason to cut a Slipspace transit short.

Admiral Errol Jeth paced the long bridge of the Plague-Class Battleship, The Famine, considering what to do. The nature of Slipspace was such that they could simply fly by - through, if the fancy struck him - the ships in question, without any notice on their parts. And they had orders to get to the Yttria System. Still...

Tapping his finger on his chin, Jeth contemplated the possibilities. Scans sent across the barrier of Slipspace and Realspace - whatever it was - indicated ships of decidedly alien design. Was it possible that these beings were more advanced? It had happened once already - news was spreading of The fall of the 4th Expeditionary Fleet (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=567050) to reality-warping gates. Those systems weren't too far a cry from ripping a hole in the fabric of time and space (such as the Hantog generator aboard the ship could do), but the Golugan system's efficiency was astounding.

Making his decision, he hailed the fleet. "All ships, rip through at a distance of 5 km from that bunch of contacts. Stay cold as ice - we will neither provoke nor attack."

A roaring, whooshing sound, stretching across the audible range and eerier than the worst horror story, issued from somewhere behind Jeth. The bridge's ports went from a white fog to the blackness of space with stars among it. They were back inside the universe.

Opening a standard galactic communications channel, the Admiral contacted the cluster of ships using Galactic Basic:

"Salutations! This is Admiral Jeth of the Famine. If it is possible, might we have a conversation in-person? We would like to discuss the technologies available to you," he added, thinking of the gates. "And the technologies we have that may be of interest to you."

(OOC: Tagged for post. I can't do a good response right now.)

"We're receiving another transmission, Kalesh-jun," said the indefatigable Hekypfw. "From.... eh..... a ship within visual range."

"Visual range?" Kalesh swiveled from her new position in the coveted Command Chair. "Why, are they planning to dock?"

"It could be a trust issue. To assure us that they're not planning to attack us by remaining where we can see them, junbi," Hekypfw shrugged. "It's audio. Listen."

Kalesh listened. She had limited knowledge of Basic; she could understand most of it, but not speak it very well. So her answer was phrased like this: "Er.... Respectful greetings to you, president of the water.... president of the--? Admiral. I am (sound of pages flipping) Lieutenant Colonel, I believe is the likewise, er, I mean similar location in government.... oh, gschkrt this." There was the sound of a beep as she activated the translator. "My apologies comma Admiral period. My Basic is somewhat lacking deprecatory statement. I am Junbi Victory Kalesh comma temporarily in command of this vessel bracket the Royal Sievese Star Navy ship italics Cxuxakluth end italics bracket during the Xalbi's absence period. An in-person conversation would be acceptable semicolon please inform us of your proposed method of reaching our ship so we can prepare a bay period. Thank you and may Azathoth consume your soul in a non-painful manner period."

After the message had been sent, Kalesh picked up her personal computer ("Self") and informed it: "Note to Self: Only try to impress people with things you are good at." Self only beeped in recognition and added the statement to its growing collection of wisdom.

My apologies comma Admiral period. My Basic is somewhat lacking deprecatory statement. I am Junbi Victory Kalesh comma temporarily in command of this vessel bracket the Royal Sievese Star Navy ship italics Cxuxakluth end italics bracket during the Xalbi's absence period. An in-person conversation would be acceptable semicolon please inform us of your proposed method of reaching our ship so we can prepare a bay period. Thank you and may Azathoth consume your soul in a non-painful manner period.

What?

What was this gibberish? Jeth found himself uncontrollably pacing the deck once more, considering this latest transmission. Comma? Period? Bracket? Why was this translation system-that was what it must have been-saying every single punctuation mark? At least the first attempt had been genuine-but President of the Water? But still... if a simple translation program of theirs couldn't properly convert Basic, then perhaps he was barking up the wrong tree. EVERY translator in the UNIVERSE knew Basic.

Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes with his fingers, he contemplated the situation. He had already changed the given orders by stopping to see what these beings might yield. There might very well be some part of their technology that was better than Imglotian - you never knew.

Clearing his throat, he nodded to Lt. Kara Baynes, the senior comms officer on the bridge at the moment. She readied her fingers on her EQWSAC-style keyboard, ready to type. He decided to use the most attic-y Earthling he could dredge from memory. Let's see how they handle this.

"To the esteemed and honored representatives of the Royal Sievese Star Navy:

One must, once again, extend one's most cordial of greetings towards your beings. Acquainted for a mere few minutes as we may be, one can still draw several implications about your character, none of which are negative. You are the ones who honor the 3rd Combat Fleet of the Immortal Lands of the Great Lord Tiger."

A pause. What else? Ah.

"One would be honored to an inestimable degree to converse in-person with such honorable and intelligent beings. Shortly, one shall depart from this exospheric warship and utilize a small inter-ship transport vehicle so that one may travel to the terrestrial landing pad that seems to be the current point of attention. One looks forward to the further exchange of information in a facing dialogue.

Your Obedient Servant,

Admiral Errol Jeth

Commander, 3rd Combat Fleet

The Space Navy of the Immortal Lands of the Great Lord Tiger."

Governor Sturm nodded. The alien was trying to over-impress them with his sharp turns and fancy uniform. Well, if anything, his precision certainly was notable, and would leave any Imperial drill instructor utterly speechless, unable to think of anything to berate. He stepped forward as they approached him, a line of four PDF troopers, two on either of the Governor's flanks, stood at full attention. The lead alien, presumably their leader, spoke.

"Lord Governor Sturm rhetorical question? I am Xalbi Moktab of Siev period. Please allow me to introduce my cultural officer comma Irigo Batkom period."

The PDF troopers glanced at one another, not comprehending the language spoken by the alien leader. The alien language was rather chunky, with plenty of G's and X's. It was like something from a holo-film.

Governor Sturm, his personal translator bionic hammering out the correct words and phrases with clunky precision at best, nodded in approval. He bowed formally.

"We are honored to meet you both." He began. He looked over at Batkom, who was looking rather glum. Sturm thought this as rather odd. Wouldn't meeting a new race be an exciting ordeal, especially for one that never had before?

Sturm dismissed the thought from his head. What did they think they looked like? Four headed grox's with seven legs, with one coming out of their back?

Then a thought crossed the governor's mind. He held out his hand, intending for a handshake. His associate had tried this once before with another race, much to the amusement of everyone involved. Let's see if they get it this time...

On the Planet

The alien Lord-Governor stuck out his hand. It was a clear invitation to a handshake; while rather old-fashioned by now, it seemed an almost universal greeting among humanoid life-forms, and Moktab was grateful to see that other races had analogous customs. He took the hand in his and shook it.

Batkom, meanwhile, had struck his momentary disappointment from his soul. To those watching, the hollow smile on his face suddenly seemed to be filled in by miles of rock-hard certainty; nor was it the condescending smile of the professional Sievese, well aware that all cultures were inferior to his own. In fact, from the little Batkom had seen, the technology and culture of the Angenterians was quite developed. Following Sturm's lead, he too bowed formally before proffering a handshake. Evidently that was either customary here, or it was being put on in the belief that the Sievese knew of these customs; either way, it would ill behoove him to greet these aliens in the manner of the Bromtokian mountain people, who said hello with a traditional wrestling match, or to consider the handshake a deadly insult the way the Medevarians did and respond by firing his blaster (which, needless to say, he had left in the ship). "Delighted to make your acquaintance comma Lord-Governor period," he murmured.

On the ship

"We will prepare landing bay six for your use period. I myself and a cultural officer shall be there to greet your esteemed self period." She hit the "mute" button. "Anything else the rest of you can think of?"

Dohbi Ch'kahladuvatrekonil Sain raised a hand. He was technically classified as a Science Officer, which meant in practice that he did whatever nobody else was qualified to do and he wasn't really qualified to do either, but he had the theoretical physics degree. "Er, Junbi -- did they say what they wanted?"

"To discuss technology, I think, Sain-doh. Your kind of thing. I'll order you to show up at wherever we sit down to talk."

"Right, Kalesh-jun."

"I'm going down to find one of the culturals," she said, getting up from the Command Chair of Power. "Hekypfw-doh, attach a salutation, please."

"Will do, Kalesh-jun."

The salutation attached was in this case "May Yog-Sothoth shower His wisdom upon you", followed up by the standard name, rank, and ship designation. Meanwhile, Kalesh had gone in search of one of the cultural officers.

She'd worked with the Department of Extrasievical Affairs before -- there were five cultural officers on board her last first contact mission, although unfortunately they had all been horribly devoured by a monster -- and she knew more or less what they were like. The formal, astute, and somewhat meek exterior was generally only a shell concealing a putrescent hive of festering cynicism and sociopathy, brought on by the Sievese government's treatment of just about everyone -- especially aliens, who it had at first claimed did not exist, then faced with overwhelming evidence to the contrary claimed were completely unimportant to Siev and might as well not exist. This came down to continually cutting the DEA's budget, training them in as many different languages of the Sievese Empire as they could manage but not bothering with so much as Galactic Basic, et cetera. In fact, one directive forbade the DEA from coming in contact with extrasievical cultures to avoid meddling in the course of nature, while another directive ensured that the DEA's budget was cut for every year that it failed to establish first contact with an alien race.

There were four cultural officers attached to the Cxuxakluth. One was down on the planet now. Kalesh selected another, an older and more experienced man, named Glejdna Frohildek. Then they descended into the shuttle bay reception area, and waited, while the officer opened the bay doors beyond the airlock and waited for the craft to approach. (As it got near, the landing area would activate something that can't be very well described as a large magnet, but works essentially the same way, to draw it in and land it beyond the line of floor lights which marked the farthest point to which the uncreatively named "space bridge" could extend. The rest.... well..... remember that the RSSN started off as an offshoot of the air force, and you'll have a pretty good idea.)

The shuttle (http://img228.imageshack.us/my.php?image=transportzh1.jpg) drifted towards the hangar bay, going in a direction not quite where the engines were pointing. A series of lights, like those of a conventional runway, highlighted the approach to the doors.

Inside the shuttle, Jeth impatiently tapped his hand against his thigh. He ahd elected to remain standing. Flanking him were 5 Gladiator (http://img262.imageshack.us/my.php?image=armorhd2.jpg)-suited soldiers, carrying their energy assault rifles - Negator-type Directed Energy Weapons. They made an imposing show, the armor reflecting the light and generally looking frightening.

As the shuttle landed, the door in its starboard side opened, and the shuttle itself pivoted so that that side was interior. Three of the bodyguard stomped out, their armor making odd mechanical sounds, and Errol Jeth followed them. The two behind him exited sideways, facing to the left and right to protect the Admiral from any harm. Jeth found himself again praying that this wasn't a mistake, and that some good would come out of it. He especially wanted to discuss FTL propulsion - Slipspace was efficient, but he couldn't forget the video captures of the Golugan gate system.

He noted the beings that were there to greet him. Human, or close enough that he saw no difference. The first big letdown - another human species, probably descendants of Earth's colonization from a few centuries ago. Perhaps the distance had encouraged technological diversity.

Maintaining his distance from the beings, though, Jeth stopped and stood at attention. The Gladiators stood at either corner of a pentagon around him, silent sentinels that were both reassuring and dangerous at the same time. Even for his 6'2" height, he was dwarfed by the 7'4" suits.

Thanking his memory, Jeth spoke. "Greetings, Commander Kalesh. I greatly appreciate your agreement to meet with myself to discuss matters of scientific opportunity. Is there somewhere in particular you wish to convene?"

Kalesh was duly impressed with the powered armour (or whatever it was). Anyone going around with an entourage of things like that had clearly marked themselves as Someone Not To Be Messed With. Of course, there were several advantages that had to be sacrificed in order to keep a human being alive in there without roasting, and of course they were obviously big suits of armour and thus couldn't be mistaken for anything else, while Sievese security personnel operated from almost completely immersive virtual reality programs and the actual 'bots were four feet high and looked completely unthreatening until you became marked as a target.* There were, in fact, two of them hovering unobtrusively in the background, looking like part of the architecture. Still, you had to grant that big, lethal-looking suits of armour fulfilled a deeply ingrained niche in the human psyche, and of course could generally carry bigger guns.

"Welcome aboard comma Admiral Jeth**," said Kalesh. "This is Cultural Officer Frohildek of the Department of Extrasievical Affairs period."

"Honoured to meet you," Frohildek said in nearly unaccented Basic, with a vague smile hovering under his moustache.

"The observation room is free comma," Kalesh continued. "And it has a lovely view of the planet which we're technically orbiting period. In addition comma food and drink will be available there if you or your --" the translator settled on "allies" -- "would desire it period."

* Scientists had considered outfitting them with creepy monotone voices saying things like "EXTERMINATE!", but that was dismissed as "just plain silly".

** "Jeth-admiral", to less sophisticated translators. Sievese syntax makes for some rather odd holo-movie dubs.

"Greetings, Morinas-captain! We fully understand your difficulties with your ship, ours can get pretty temperamental when we forget the monthly virgin sacrifice... eh... what's that? Oh, heh heh, my sincere apologies comma Morinas-captain period. I completely neglected to use the formal speaking style semicolon amazing how one can forget oneself in space period. Anyway comma I and my primary cultural attaché are currently on the way to another meeting comma however my first officer will be able to welcome you onto our ship to discuss foreign affairs period. Please inform her what your preferred method of transportation is so we can prepare a bay period. Thank you and may the favour of Azathoth be upon you line break-- what? Oh, right. Thanks." Static.

“Formal speaking style, hm?” Morinas noted. “Interesting.”
“Yes, I assumed that was an artifact of their translation program.”
“Well, it seems I should use a similar approach, for politeness. Chaos, ready a small shuttle and bring out a communications cart. Darin, get in touch with Foreign Relations. Tell them we’re going to need a diplomat for initial negotiations with an unfamiliar civilization. Ivan, you’ll accompany the expedition. Also…” Morinas paused for a moment, considering. “Stevani Korzan. Chaos, let her know I have an assignment for her. Now, a response…”

Soon, the answering transmission was in its way.
“Thank you for your understanding comma voyagers from Siev period. We have shuttles for traversing short distances through space semicolon a landing bay with room for an eight meter craft would be most convenient period. Additionally comma we would appreciate some information regarding the atmosphere aboard your vessel period. May you have good fortune and the blessings of the Great Ones period.”

Before this message would be received, however, the third visitor arrived – showing up mere kilometers from the first! The Demgori dreadnought’s long range sensors focused immediately upon the fleet, watching for any sign that they were about to attack the lone explorer; similar attacks had occurred before, with no greater warning.

“Captain!”
“[violet]! Who are those? What are they doing that close?! Charge the heavy Levin turrets; we may want to intervene here. Load a few Peregrine torpedoes, while you’re at it.”

Fortunately, the lone shuttle soon made it clear that the newcomers’ intentions were not, at least for the moment, violent.

"That would be appreciated," Jeth said politely. He had no intention of eating or drinking anything these beings gave him - paranoia filled the upper management of any Imglotian organization - but it would be a proper gesture to accept the offer. The quintet of armor-clad soldiers followed him, silent but for the occasional mechanical grinding and their stomping footsteps, as he himself followed the Sievese entourage to their observation room that they had so generously provided.

The CIC

"Greetings comma Morinas-captain* period. We will prepare landing bay four for your use semicolon it should easily be able to hold a vessel of your shuttle's size period. As for the atmosphere on board the italics Cxuxakluth end italics comma it is primarily oxygen and nitrogen with smaller amounts of water vapour comma carbon dioxide comma and trace gases period. While we cannot alter it comma if it will prove difficult to work with we will not be offended by use of space suits period. May you never read italics The King In Yellow end italics period."

The cultural officer dispatched to greet them at landing bay four was a tall and somewhat grave bespectacled man with a sandy beard, known to the world as Bashkir Fowgich. He looked far more like an absent-minded professor than a world-renowned martial artist, and in point of fact, he was not a world-renowned martial artist. Not by any stretch of the imagination. However, nor was he particularly absent-minded, being of clear and discerning sensibilities. And he had a tsurugi in his belt.

The Observation Room

The observation room was semicircular, as it occupied one extreme end of the starship (which was shaped somewhat like an upside-down boot, or like the 20th century's impression of a 23rd century ray gun), and it was bounded by massive windows that looked out upon the panorama of space. The floor and ceiling too displayed the feeds from cameras, although Kalesh assured Jeth that if he found it uncomfortable, the floor and ceiling displays could be turned off, as they were merely holograms. Kalesh and Frohildek seated themselves at a table next to a somewhat younger man with the glittering eyes of a mad scientist: scientist he was, although not so much mad as "terribly focused". Kalesh introduced Ch'kahladuvatrekonil Sain.

"He's the local expert dash if you want to know anything about the ship and its systems comma he's yours period," Kalesh said. Sain brought two fingers to his forehead in greeting, and smiled in a way that was either endearing or extraordinarily creepy.

"Table, drinks please," Frohildek said in Sievese (informal-polite), and a glass appeared before him. He then explained to Jeth in Basic: "If you'd like a drink, concentrate on what you'd like and ask the table. The thought interface is still highly experimental, so if it doesn't work ... well, voice commands still function, of course."

* Or "Captain Morinas".

Eying the table sideways, Jeth cautiously spoke. "Dihydrogen monoxide," he said, hoping the use of water's chemical format would be more digestible by the system. The glass was water, all right, but it had an odd smell. For the sake of politeness, he took it in hand.

"The primary thing I wish to ask about is your Faster-Than-Light system," the Admiral said amiably. "What sort of system do you utilize - Wormhole Generator? Space/Time Bending? The Imglot Navy, I'm afraid, is stuck with ripping a hole in the fabric of the universe," Jeth said regretfully. "Slipspace bends time and space, but not quite as well as a true universe-bending system. Then again, ours has less chance of ending the universe, but still, I would love to be able to travel the galaxy a bit faster than three systems an hour or so."

Sighing regretfully, Jeth made to take a sip of the odd water, and nearly spit when it entered his mouth. There was a flavor... fighting his choking instincts, he swallowed the half-mouthful he had and tried not to cough. "And you?" he asked curiously. "How long does a system-to-system jump take? You're probably way ahead of us - 4 systems an hour? 5?"

Kalesh smiled knowingly. "Sounds like your sort of question, Sain-dobhi."

Sain was already off. He spoke in informal polite, technically a diplomatic no-no but he could never remember how to decline his nouns in formal. "Ah yes, the old slipspace/immaterium conundrum. How do you break the laws of physics? You go to a universe with different laws of physics. It makes sense on paper, but a) it requires quite a lot of energy and b) there are all kinds of issues. We considered it but there were too many snags.

"Well, as for our FTL -- you've heard the scientists talking about how space is like a four-dimensional surface?" Jeth nodded his assent. "Right. So wormholes are shortcuts that connect different parts of that surface to each other. They're a natural phenomenon forming a sort of spatial spiderweb; you got a few trillion of them in this galaxy by Mickleby's estimation, the vast majority probably on the quantum level though. Only problem is, it's like traveling through a black hole. Some've worked out how to use them without being destroyed by tidals; we haven't. But they have a useful function.

"On account of those wormholes, space gets sort of bent in on itself. You can't imagine a four-dimensional surface really, sort of a daft metaphor because we're part of one anyway, but it's a bit like folding up a piece of paper. Now objects in space create wells or anomalies in that paper; you've heard of gravity wells, I'm sure. This means that when you're subject to an object's gravitational field, you're inside one of those wells -- following me so far?" Sain didn't wait for Jeth to acknowledge him. "But because of a property of the way space folds -- we like to call it Plajborok's principle -- it also puts that well comparatively close to a well in another part of the galaxy. As, needless to say, the galaxy is simply one huge well, with all the matter it contains. In fact, our scientists have a theory that part of the reason why the planets where life evolves tend to be so similar is because of hyperspatial resonance across the --"

Jeth, anxious to bring the recital to an end (and who can blame him), interrupted. "Extremely interesting, I must say, and a very clear assessment. But I fear that you've neglected to tell me what exactly the engine does."

"Ah yes! I'm terribly sorry, Admiral. Well, it's very simple really. We use antimatter-based fuel to 'jump' from one gravitational anomaly to a nearby one -- nearby in a hyperspatial sense, that is. It's fast, doesn't wear out the Universe as much as manufacturing gravitational anomalies does, and the only downside is sometimes having to travel to the next planet over because of what Maxpfui expertly named 'swirly space thingies'. A bore, by all accounts. The speed is impressive though; one jump every three minutes under optimal conditions, translating into one jump every eight minutes or so because engineers are paid by the hour."

Sain frowned. "Table," he commanded, and the glass that appeared was full of green bubbly stuff which looked like radioactive waste but was actually a harmless carbonated beverage.