Post by EmperorMyric on Dec 16, 2017 19:33:59 GMT
“The essence of statesmanship is not a rigid adherence to the past, but a prudent and probing concern for the future.”
--Hubert Humphrey
--oOo--
As the emissary’s shuttle docked with the Patron of Sorrows, timers were running. This was inevitable, based on the outcome of the event, and as the emissary was welcomed aboard again the Patron of Sorrows tacitly signaled her unseen companions and turned away from the Centum’s fleet. “Were your talks productive, Emissary?” The shipmaster’s first words upon Droix’s return cut strait to the heart of the matter. It had been nigh miraculous in his eyes that the words the emissary had spoken had even functioned in any way, but as the emissary began unbuttoning his peculiar garb, he shook his head sadly.
“Productive, perhaps, but not at all successful. Get all of us out of here shipmaster, and prepare for temporal jumps. I have a report to file.”
--oOo--
As the tense stand off continued the two respective factions sent their emissaries across the seemingly endless void. Two shuttlecraft, indiciative of their nations crossed the divide, approximated a mirror of prior conflicts for both, almost an mirror irony. Had not all negotiations begun as such? Signings of major conflict resolution had almost always occured on naval assets and here many centuries later they were occuring as thus again. The only complication was the two representatives who each had their own goals, predispositions and interests. It was the perception of time itself that would determine who indeed would find the bounty today. Meanwhile the SSC shuttle, an Atropa class minus the fancy bits would earn the middle point and it’s auto pilot would hail the Flux vessel with a simple greeting and basic docking directions.
In similar fashion, the Ehm’Beh had deployed a strangely curved craft which had up until days earlier existed only in the minds of a few select architects. The Flux had no real use for shuttlecraft, as in most circumstances they were well enough capable of docking with the other party, and as such the Ehm’Beh class designs didn’t even sport a shuttle bay proper; rather, the craft resided on the ship’s underside, tucked away safely like some sort of cosmic lampray.
It too separated silently; bright lights quite unlike the Ascendancy’s standard protocols for secrecy well illuminating the plated metal curves of the craft’s form. With smooth motions, it drifted at a gradual rated towards the shuttle. The docking was slightly more complex than anticipated, in that the Flux ship did not appear on the docking sensors as more conventional vessels would; the Flux had such a preoccupation with being unseen that they were incapable of deactivating the stealthy features inherent in their own designs. That notwithstanding, through continued morse signaling precise coordinates were exchanged, and the two ships ultimately came within feet of each other before gradually coming to touch.
--oOo--
“Post contact report for Sciastenos Centum, Emissary Droix speaking.” The emissary began softly in the small confines of his cabin; for Ehm’Beh’s were cozy ships, and as a general rule Flux vessels were not outfitted for ferrying about diplomatic staff. He removed the ancient looking garb and dropped it with disinterest on his bed, running a tired hand through his hair as he began reporting on what had been much less than he’d hoped for.
“Contact was established at predescribed chronospatial coordinates despite hostile posturing on the part of the Centum. Said posturing was countered by lack of hostile response and transmission of historic texts pertaining to costs of conflict, selected by my discretion for such purposes.” Droix dropped himself into a seat and finally made eye contact with the audio-recorder; an odd habit if there ever was one. The one thing the Ascendancy hadn’t engineered out of their own people was sound itself; they could still be heard on recording equipment, even if they couldn’t be seen.
“Per the Sciastenos Centum’s directives, we dispatched the courier vessel to coordinates between the Patron of Sorrows and the SSC’s front line positions. As a side note, please consider proper commendation for this vessel’s shipmaster on account of his patience and graciousness during the stressful circumstances leading up to contact.” It was a minor lie, but the man deserved some sort of a pat on the back. Rewards had their place, after all.
--oOo--
Thus it began, not necessarily with the rapport of diplomats but with the sounds of two vessels linking up and handling the mechanical procedures. Docking commenced and through the respective airlocks atmosphere was changed, adjusted and the respective species were notified of the differences. Despite this Focht himself kept to a combat containment suit akin to a very unobtrusive EV suit and waited for the additional systems aboard to analyze the situation. He personally had no idea to take any chances with a temporal species as the archives had shown a distinct tenancy towards treachery. This was not to say the Flux had as many black marks so to speak yet they had been behaving in bad faith so the additional protections were warranted. Focht waited for the airlock system to do its thing before entering what could have been called the neutral zone between the vessels the eyes of two nations watched every move carefully.
First his he passed through, keeping a keen awareness of the situation as the doors closed behind him. After a very short moment of silence, the far door dilated open, revealing the chamber within. It was rather suprising, really; for starters the Flux‘s representative had not met him in the neutral ground; but there he was. What was rather more surprising was what he looked like. His counterpart seemed perfectly human, for starters; that much was not so much of a surprise, as evolution seemed to have some mysterious accord that favoured upright simians in most parts of the galaxy. That wasn‘t to say that there weren’t exceptions of note, but he looked just as human as anyone could have hoped for; perhaps five foot ten, with a thin complexion and dark hair parted sharply to the side.
He was wearing something that seemed to be similar to an early 20th century American uniform, but there were minor variations to it; minor inaccuracies that a historian would have noticed. The pockets weren’t quite right for starters, and the fabric would prove, upon closer examination at least, to bear a certain texture hardly normal in clothes of that era. Oddly enough, over his head he wore a perfectly transparent plastic bag, or something like it; a similar materiel fashioned the gloves that covered the man’s hands.
Meanwhile the appearance and attire of the SSC representative represented that of caution, the EV-suit was one designed for both a mix of combat and exploration, it bore a self-contained nature and yet bore an acceptable amount of external placements for whatever equipment and materials were standard for the given mission. The average color was a dull tan and the nature and fabric had a modest luster overall of a new EV suit yet the service use had put some mild at best stains on the legs and feet. It seemed as if there was an atmosphere difference between the SSC populace and the Flux as the representative did not bother to disengage the suits
environmental containment. He instead opted to open the negotiations with a coarse but simple phrase surprisingly in the native language of the Flux themselves.
“So then we are here, and you are still violating a region of conflict…what is it you have deemed so important as to risk death?”
--oOo--
“The individual Focht addressed me in the lower Flux tongue, and as such immediately sought to display knowledge of our faction’s existence.” Droix reported, as a low warble began to pulse through the hallways, followed by a brief announcement from the ship’s temporal overseer.
“All crew are to secure temporally sensitive materials. Engineering, please confirm stability of paradox capacitors. Final checks commence in five minutes. All personal, please report to temporal jump stations…”
“…as such, advise comparing timeline readings for Focht with list of parties privy to the Ascendancy’s existence, in an effort to determine how such information came into his possession. Through all three of my flythrough of this event, I was unable to determine from Focht the origin of such information.”
--oOo--
The strangely dressed man blinked in surprise at it; in fact, more common Flux would have become rapidly paralyzed in a sense by the fact that an outsider managed to speak the tongue at all. Of course the accent was a tad strange, but it was hardly indecipherable; so the diplomat blinked in surprise, and grinned emphatically.
"You speak it well!" He said earnestly, before gesturing to the plastic cowl over his head. "As you already have your helmet on, do you mind if I take mine off? Bit stuffy in here." He inquired, continuing to speak in the Ascendancy’s native tongue. Truth be told, there was a little information to be gained here; the Centum’s ambassador had addressed him in the common Flux language, which in and of itself was impressive.
"I have no objection to thus, however the atmosphere in this vessel is tailored to you so I must retain my own...I respectfully hope that you take no offense. More so I am profoundly grieved by the unnecesary display put on against your vessel. The Reservist gunners are at times a bit oveager and given the proximity to the front lines...well I believe you understand the effects there. That said, let us arrive at business... you have traveled some ways to speak, and the first prime is curious as to what you have to say and the negotiations that occur today.”
--oOo--
“Given information revealed during the first two flythrough of this event, I wore a light extra-atmospheric suit underneath the period uniform so as to forclude the possibility that my engineering would interfere with his memory functions; however as Focht came prepared in an EVA suit of his own, such cautions proved unmerited.”
“As a direct discussion of the nature of our interests seemed to greatly distress Focht during our initial encounters, I attempted to incorporate the linguistics of their specie’s ancestry into my discussion in an effort to counter the natural hostility between our two factions; the specifics on such hostility are to be later addressed in this report.”
--oOo--
The stranger nods understandingly as he taps the side of his collar, and the bag abruptly goes limp, ultimately separating along unseen seams and retracting back like a hood.
"Our biologies are not so terribly different sir, though our attitudes might diverge a ways; and it was a strategic necessity. Certainly wouldn’t have caused less of a rucus if we tried to make contact with your starbase, you know. Would have caused a bloody riot I’d think." He continues speaking the common Flux language to Focht, yet there is a bit of an accent to it, remarkably like a few European varieties. He speaks slowly and deliberatly, possibly for Focht’s benefit, while he removes the gloves; even then, an occassional word or two slips by him.
"Business. Right to the point. I was dispatched by my superiors on what I suppose is a sort of a fact finding mission, much as I’m sure," the man says with a bit of a hand gesture, "that your superiors deployed yourself to come here. Our two parties seem to be rapidly aligning themselves on opposite ends of the spectrum, and I’m attempting to ascertain the how and why of that matter, as well as offering a bit of elaboration towards the nature of the game." There, the emissary thought as he finished the sentence. God, what a mouthful. He’d studied a few Terran languages in preparation for this, and now having to mimic their speech patterns in his own language seemed surprisingly unweildy.
Slipping the gloves with a strange sense of glee into the epaulets, the man turns back to the still silent Focht. He would like, of course, to see what he thought of the uniform; he’d researched it personally, drawing from dominant powers from Earth History before finding one he hoped would be recognizable to the man. Alas, no reaction was coming. He would have loved the critique...
"What I mean by all this is that, put strait to you as it were, I’m here to figure out as best I can where you stand on things, and if you’re going to be a problem. That’s why I’m here. My superior hopes you’re simply a bit confused about what you’re stepping into, and that we can avoid unpleasantries if at all possible. You’ve caused a bit of a stir, you know, amongst our higher echelons."
--oOo--
“He didn’t much like that,” Droix added after a pause.
--oOo--
After a moments time Focht raised an eyebrow at the somewhat incoherent explanation as he found it less then satisfying by his own perception. His body language reflected a state of disdain, as he crossed his arms to magnify the effect and began to speak in a tone that sounded of someone tired of wasting time.
“Do you realize this is not a game? Our empires are at ends because of more than one point of contention? If you have been sent to be lackadaisical in nature I recommend your people sent a more serious representative. We are here to ensure your non-interference in the current battles not to entertain supercilious frivolities. Yours and ours are respective of this at ends…and thus we in theory must find common ground to calm a proverbial patch of rough seas or rugged ground as the metaphor may find you. In short skip the song and dance and tell us why precisely why you are finally bothering to make contact.”
Abruptly, the man seemed to become mildly taken aback by the sharp retort, but he nodded with a bit of disappointment. He’d spent his entire life wrapping himself in the entrails of dead civilizations, mastering tongues they’d never need to speak, familiarizing himself with books and tomes from galaxies the Flux would never tread. It was somewhat disheartening to have what he had come to love shut down so abruptly.
"Fine," he said in immaculate English, with a certain clipped pace to it. "Have it your way. I’m here to as I said elaborate on the circumstance and see if I can talk some sense into you. I merely wished to present myself in the least threatening manner possible." He fixed his otherwise unforceful gaze on the SSC’s representative as he continued.
“We are the oldest surviving indigenous race in this galaxy, did you know that?" The emissary inquired without much hint of the idleness he had cultured earlier. "One does not become the oldest surviving anything without proper considerations for their surroundings. In most cases, this has involved minor editations; we removed the particularly violent civilizations and fostered the more benign varieties. Up until the last century, we existed comfortably here without concern for our detection. In this case, it’s a simple matter of ensuring technological dominance: we are inherently at war with anyone else who might one day do what we do best. Do you understand me in this, ambassador?"
Focht nodded seeming to take the statement in stride. "Well let me explains something to you, there is a bigger multiverse out there...while you’ve been in this almost comically small sandbox of a galaxy entire realitilies have been snuffed out by the same sort of unspeakable evil you and yours are headed towards." To emphasize the point of how small the Flux was playing Focht paced a bit not bothering to look at the Flux representative. "You see...your acts are feeding a great evil, your kind is sadly all to common...you go about your reality trying to adjust things for your benefit or for your perceived benefit of the galaxy...and all those acts pile up...in fact most of them wind up downright resenting your acts...and then. They become corrupted as you
are they begin existing beyond you they make warped realities, and from them eventually they strike against the primary. It is only a matter of time before your seemingly well intended manipulations come back to Ancerious looking to settle the score."
--oOo--
“It’s likely more organized than shameful here, but I do regret not being able to smell that man,” Droix added as further background noise indicated the impending temporal jump echoed through the halls beyond his quarters. He had no particular duty to perform in that aspect; the ship and her crew would take care of the matters at hand well enough.
“I would expect that even including his biological variations that I would have been much more confident of his authenticity and the integrity of his statements had that been possible. “While taking into consideration the posturing involved, Focht demonstrated predisposition against our civilization, describing us as “evil” and spoke of impending retaliation for our actions. As keen an individual as Focht might be, it is evident to this emissary that presuming Focht’s attitudes accurately represent those of the SSC we will have little chance at successful coexistence with this race should such attitudes prove to be unnegotiable.”
--oOo--
A slightly perturbed glare shot through the emissary’s eyes, but his demeanor remained unchanging and even. Evidently Focht held little regard for everything his civilization stood for; that was fair enough. He was not, after all, here to win a popularity contest. He could have pointed out the fact that once the Ascendancy was done by the very nature of the Ascendancy’s actions no one but the Flux would know of the changes made but instead of becoming bogged down countering illogical arguments, the emissary refrained. After all, pointing out the flaws in their reasoning hardly was conducive to his purposes here.
"You offer a most intriguing critique of my civilization, ambassador." He acknowledged delicately. "I can’t say I care all too much about the multiverse however. Our interests lie here," the emissary said, extending a lone pointer finger down in relation to the shuttle’ss artificial gravity, "not in other galaxies. If your native land was invaded, would you advise your first prime that resistance to the ill intents of others would lead to far too much resentment for your own good?"
“Ha! Such haughty ignorance is amusing.” Focht stated loudly. “Fine; there is an old saying about pride and the red hots that fits here I suppose. If you are not going to put anything else out for discussion I suppose we are done here." As if to accent the point Focht actually made a dismissive gesture at the end of the comment and headed for the connecting air lock before turning to the Flux Emissary. "Your species bears the potential to unite the galaxy and yet you squander such potential on insignificant musings of power....for some so advanced I surely expected far better."
The emissary frowned sadly at the comment, but didn’t verbally protest it. This was the third time that he had attempted to converse with Focht; when he had came in his ceremonial robes, he had been lambasted for his pride; when he came in more conventional attire and spoke frankly, Focht criticized the Ascendancy’s motivations; and when he threw presentability to the wind and appeared in his best approximation of ancient Terran attire-garb carefully calculated to trigger a connection to the history Focht did not understand they shared-the SSC’s ambassador called their differences ignorance.
So the emissary said nothing, and quietly came to terms with their differences.
A faint smile and nod of respect were his parting words, and even then, he was not certain Focht would ever appreciate them.
--oOo--
“Of possible relevance here is a varying of definitions pertaining to ‘pride,’ Droix added pensively. “Evidently Focht wished to present negative attitudes towards my diplomatic mission there, and in that he communicated quite clearly. However, for future reference subsequent diplomatic missions, if there are to be any, would be wise to clarify that we do not see ourselves as a prideful people; potentially this could be accomplished by elaborating on our emphasis on not being perceived by the rest of this galaxy. Pride, being undeniably linked to social standing, is irrelevant when the near totality of this galaxy are oblivious to the fact that we have a social
standing in the first place. If we ever are forced to reveal ourselves in our entirety to this galaxy, it will the actions of that hour that will dictate when will be the proper time for us to be proud.”
--oOo--
“And before I go...and report to command precisely what they expected, let me tell you a real sliver of truth, a scary fact that will hopefully make you really reconsider.” Focht added as he stood at the portal, “we are not alike, we are not even close. People like you ruined our homeworld; people like you killed some forty percent of the population through eight separate eras effectively murdering the human race three times over. If you and yours cannot see to abandon your meddling in a force that is far greater then yourself, then the time for hunting will begin in Ancerious and there then will be no place you and yours can hide. I pray it never comes to thus... however prior encounters seem to say otherwise and your actions of past doubly suggest that you are unable to understand your actions. Oh yes,” Focht added with gusto, “we know of Sloane in detail, we know what destroyed the Macon also....we are watching you your next few steps will determine if you are to continue or to be hunted to a state of extinction. Again I pray it never comes to thus because being wrong about an assessment would be a welcome change. I might remind you...once our shuttles undock you have three minutes to leave... after which the gunners wont miss and your vaunted toys might not work as you expect. As Focht uttered the final words, he grinned...an unnerving predatory grin. To the wary they might realize that he posessed a double set of canine teeth and other then those up front the rest seemed a well sized but jagged array. It there was question if Focht was indeed human and if so just what the hell happened on SSC’s Earth to bring such a change about to the race. It was clear he meant all that he said... and yet he remained for a few seconds as if to hear the reply if any.
--oOo--
“The man certainly can deliver a good monologue,” Droix said regretfully as the Patron of Sorrows slipped away from the present. The ship and all its occupants were now falling back through dimensions not commonly traveled by the rest of reality; they were heading back towards all men’s homes, all men’s origins, and they defied reality in the process.
“Focht’s parting declaration confirmed a degree of awareness of our activities previously only suspected by our temporal overseers. Furthermore however, I would postulate that the declaration is in its own way a reassurance for us; he did not detail any further activities than the ones previously specified. As from his perspective all of these events took place at prior points in time, it thus gives credence to the theory that the Centum is not truly a temporally active power; they made no references to upcoming activities on our part which could otherwise have impacted their existence.” Droix shifted in his seat as he continued. “However, this is admittedly hearsay, and I reiterate that he Centum has exhibited an unsanctioned awareness of our activities in this galaxy.”
--oOo--
The threat issued by the was duly registered in the emissary’s mind, but he said nothing in response immediately. It wasn’t necessary, after all; the emissary’s objective had been fulfilled, and ultimately he had at least completed his mission. Even then, the taunting smile was an odd thing. Even the Ascendancy did not dabble in malice of that nature; they were above all things civil, at least in terms of interactions.
"I can only give my sincerest regrets to you then Mister Focht," the emissary murmured softly, before signaling the door to close behind him; and without pause the portal dilated closed, severing whatever connection (however teneous if at all existent) that had existed between the two civilizations. So much had been possible here, but time and time again, the SSC sent that man to make contact with them. The emissary had been granted authorizations in the hope that, miracle upon miracles, stable relations could be established; alas the situation proved untenable.
He had declined to inform Focht-who at this moment was perhaps realizing he had never introduced himself-of the nature of the Ascendancy’s ultimate opponent. Rest assured, they would find out in time. But the less they knew, the better; the emissary had confirmed during his time there that their opponents were aware of their action’s full ramifications, and that would please the Prime Admiral.
--oOo--
“Following these events, the Patron of Sorrows and our escorts executed a temporal withdrawl, and are now proceeding back to chronospatial coordinates predating the departure of our diplomatic party. As such, everything that I have just described in this report will not happen.” Droix smiled slightly at that, but not for the obvious reasons. It was a smile of disappointment, for this manuever would create a variant of his own life where he would never have the opportunity to make contact with Focht, or the Sciastenos Centum. Even as a failed mission not lasting more than ten minutes, it was the highlight of Droix’s life; everything he had lived for had been lived for the sake of those ten minutes.
Besides, Droix though silently as he began to add further details to the report, forever and never are really rather misleading words.
“As such, per my report I would advise the following: that as this present point in the timeline finds the Centum unwilling to tolerate our way of life that we refrain from antagonizing them further at this point simply as a matter of practicality. We are already engaging a more temporally competent opponent, and should focus our efforts therein.”
“Furthermore, following third party reviews of sensor interactions between the Patron of Sorrows and the Centum’s fleet, it is advisable that we implement revisions to our particle displacement systems. Even with the Centum now lacking the information they would have gained from this encounter, I find it highly likely that with small amounts of luck the Centum may become problematic for our operations. In the interest of avoiding further civilization-scale edits to the timeline, we must as some say ‘step up our game.’”
“Furthermore, I advise…” Droix said, and advise he did.
So as the Patron of Sorrows and her escort raced into the past, the future changed.
--Hubert Humphrey
--oOo--
As the emissary’s shuttle docked with the Patron of Sorrows, timers were running. This was inevitable, based on the outcome of the event, and as the emissary was welcomed aboard again the Patron of Sorrows tacitly signaled her unseen companions and turned away from the Centum’s fleet. “Were your talks productive, Emissary?” The shipmaster’s first words upon Droix’s return cut strait to the heart of the matter. It had been nigh miraculous in his eyes that the words the emissary had spoken had even functioned in any way, but as the emissary began unbuttoning his peculiar garb, he shook his head sadly.
“Productive, perhaps, but not at all successful. Get all of us out of here shipmaster, and prepare for temporal jumps. I have a report to file.”
--oOo--
As the tense stand off continued the two respective factions sent their emissaries across the seemingly endless void. Two shuttlecraft, indiciative of their nations crossed the divide, approximated a mirror of prior conflicts for both, almost an mirror irony. Had not all negotiations begun as such? Signings of major conflict resolution had almost always occured on naval assets and here many centuries later they were occuring as thus again. The only complication was the two representatives who each had their own goals, predispositions and interests. It was the perception of time itself that would determine who indeed would find the bounty today. Meanwhile the SSC shuttle, an Atropa class minus the fancy bits would earn the middle point and it’s auto pilot would hail the Flux vessel with a simple greeting and basic docking directions.
In similar fashion, the Ehm’Beh had deployed a strangely curved craft which had up until days earlier existed only in the minds of a few select architects. The Flux had no real use for shuttlecraft, as in most circumstances they were well enough capable of docking with the other party, and as such the Ehm’Beh class designs didn’t even sport a shuttle bay proper; rather, the craft resided on the ship’s underside, tucked away safely like some sort of cosmic lampray.
It too separated silently; bright lights quite unlike the Ascendancy’s standard protocols for secrecy well illuminating the plated metal curves of the craft’s form. With smooth motions, it drifted at a gradual rated towards the shuttle. The docking was slightly more complex than anticipated, in that the Flux ship did not appear on the docking sensors as more conventional vessels would; the Flux had such a preoccupation with being unseen that they were incapable of deactivating the stealthy features inherent in their own designs. That notwithstanding, through continued morse signaling precise coordinates were exchanged, and the two ships ultimately came within feet of each other before gradually coming to touch.
--oOo--
“Post contact report for Sciastenos Centum, Emissary Droix speaking.” The emissary began softly in the small confines of his cabin; for Ehm’Beh’s were cozy ships, and as a general rule Flux vessels were not outfitted for ferrying about diplomatic staff. He removed the ancient looking garb and dropped it with disinterest on his bed, running a tired hand through his hair as he began reporting on what had been much less than he’d hoped for.
“Contact was established at predescribed chronospatial coordinates despite hostile posturing on the part of the Centum. Said posturing was countered by lack of hostile response and transmission of historic texts pertaining to costs of conflict, selected by my discretion for such purposes.” Droix dropped himself into a seat and finally made eye contact with the audio-recorder; an odd habit if there ever was one. The one thing the Ascendancy hadn’t engineered out of their own people was sound itself; they could still be heard on recording equipment, even if they couldn’t be seen.
“Per the Sciastenos Centum’s directives, we dispatched the courier vessel to coordinates between the Patron of Sorrows and the SSC’s front line positions. As a side note, please consider proper commendation for this vessel’s shipmaster on account of his patience and graciousness during the stressful circumstances leading up to contact.” It was a minor lie, but the man deserved some sort of a pat on the back. Rewards had their place, after all.
--oOo--
Thus it began, not necessarily with the rapport of diplomats but with the sounds of two vessels linking up and handling the mechanical procedures. Docking commenced and through the respective airlocks atmosphere was changed, adjusted and the respective species were notified of the differences. Despite this Focht himself kept to a combat containment suit akin to a very unobtrusive EV suit and waited for the additional systems aboard to analyze the situation. He personally had no idea to take any chances with a temporal species as the archives had shown a distinct tenancy towards treachery. This was not to say the Flux had as many black marks so to speak yet they had been behaving in bad faith so the additional protections were warranted. Focht waited for the airlock system to do its thing before entering what could have been called the neutral zone between the vessels the eyes of two nations watched every move carefully.
First his he passed through, keeping a keen awareness of the situation as the doors closed behind him. After a very short moment of silence, the far door dilated open, revealing the chamber within. It was rather suprising, really; for starters the Flux‘s representative had not met him in the neutral ground; but there he was. What was rather more surprising was what he looked like. His counterpart seemed perfectly human, for starters; that much was not so much of a surprise, as evolution seemed to have some mysterious accord that favoured upright simians in most parts of the galaxy. That wasn‘t to say that there weren’t exceptions of note, but he looked just as human as anyone could have hoped for; perhaps five foot ten, with a thin complexion and dark hair parted sharply to the side.
He was wearing something that seemed to be similar to an early 20th century American uniform, but there were minor variations to it; minor inaccuracies that a historian would have noticed. The pockets weren’t quite right for starters, and the fabric would prove, upon closer examination at least, to bear a certain texture hardly normal in clothes of that era. Oddly enough, over his head he wore a perfectly transparent plastic bag, or something like it; a similar materiel fashioned the gloves that covered the man’s hands.
Meanwhile the appearance and attire of the SSC representative represented that of caution, the EV-suit was one designed for both a mix of combat and exploration, it bore a self-contained nature and yet bore an acceptable amount of external placements for whatever equipment and materials were standard for the given mission. The average color was a dull tan and the nature and fabric had a modest luster overall of a new EV suit yet the service use had put some mild at best stains on the legs and feet. It seemed as if there was an atmosphere difference between the SSC populace and the Flux as the representative did not bother to disengage the suits
environmental containment. He instead opted to open the negotiations with a coarse but simple phrase surprisingly in the native language of the Flux themselves.
“So then we are here, and you are still violating a region of conflict…what is it you have deemed so important as to risk death?”
--oOo--
“The individual Focht addressed me in the lower Flux tongue, and as such immediately sought to display knowledge of our faction’s existence.” Droix reported, as a low warble began to pulse through the hallways, followed by a brief announcement from the ship’s temporal overseer.
“All crew are to secure temporally sensitive materials. Engineering, please confirm stability of paradox capacitors. Final checks commence in five minutes. All personal, please report to temporal jump stations…”
“…as such, advise comparing timeline readings for Focht with list of parties privy to the Ascendancy’s existence, in an effort to determine how such information came into his possession. Through all three of my flythrough of this event, I was unable to determine from Focht the origin of such information.”
--oOo--
The strangely dressed man blinked in surprise at it; in fact, more common Flux would have become rapidly paralyzed in a sense by the fact that an outsider managed to speak the tongue at all. Of course the accent was a tad strange, but it was hardly indecipherable; so the diplomat blinked in surprise, and grinned emphatically.
"You speak it well!" He said earnestly, before gesturing to the plastic cowl over his head. "As you already have your helmet on, do you mind if I take mine off? Bit stuffy in here." He inquired, continuing to speak in the Ascendancy’s native tongue. Truth be told, there was a little information to be gained here; the Centum’s ambassador had addressed him in the common Flux language, which in and of itself was impressive.
"I have no objection to thus, however the atmosphere in this vessel is tailored to you so I must retain my own...I respectfully hope that you take no offense. More so I am profoundly grieved by the unnecesary display put on against your vessel. The Reservist gunners are at times a bit oveager and given the proximity to the front lines...well I believe you understand the effects there. That said, let us arrive at business... you have traveled some ways to speak, and the first prime is curious as to what you have to say and the negotiations that occur today.”
--oOo--
“Given information revealed during the first two flythrough of this event, I wore a light extra-atmospheric suit underneath the period uniform so as to forclude the possibility that my engineering would interfere with his memory functions; however as Focht came prepared in an EVA suit of his own, such cautions proved unmerited.”
“As a direct discussion of the nature of our interests seemed to greatly distress Focht during our initial encounters, I attempted to incorporate the linguistics of their specie’s ancestry into my discussion in an effort to counter the natural hostility between our two factions; the specifics on such hostility are to be later addressed in this report.”
--oOo--
The stranger nods understandingly as he taps the side of his collar, and the bag abruptly goes limp, ultimately separating along unseen seams and retracting back like a hood.
"Our biologies are not so terribly different sir, though our attitudes might diverge a ways; and it was a strategic necessity. Certainly wouldn’t have caused less of a rucus if we tried to make contact with your starbase, you know. Would have caused a bloody riot I’d think." He continues speaking the common Flux language to Focht, yet there is a bit of an accent to it, remarkably like a few European varieties. He speaks slowly and deliberatly, possibly for Focht’s benefit, while he removes the gloves; even then, an occassional word or two slips by him.
"Business. Right to the point. I was dispatched by my superiors on what I suppose is a sort of a fact finding mission, much as I’m sure," the man says with a bit of a hand gesture, "that your superiors deployed yourself to come here. Our two parties seem to be rapidly aligning themselves on opposite ends of the spectrum, and I’m attempting to ascertain the how and why of that matter, as well as offering a bit of elaboration towards the nature of the game." There, the emissary thought as he finished the sentence. God, what a mouthful. He’d studied a few Terran languages in preparation for this, and now having to mimic their speech patterns in his own language seemed surprisingly unweildy.
Slipping the gloves with a strange sense of glee into the epaulets, the man turns back to the still silent Focht. He would like, of course, to see what he thought of the uniform; he’d researched it personally, drawing from dominant powers from Earth History before finding one he hoped would be recognizable to the man. Alas, no reaction was coming. He would have loved the critique...
"What I mean by all this is that, put strait to you as it were, I’m here to figure out as best I can where you stand on things, and if you’re going to be a problem. That’s why I’m here. My superior hopes you’re simply a bit confused about what you’re stepping into, and that we can avoid unpleasantries if at all possible. You’ve caused a bit of a stir, you know, amongst our higher echelons."
--oOo--
“He didn’t much like that,” Droix added after a pause.
--oOo--
After a moments time Focht raised an eyebrow at the somewhat incoherent explanation as he found it less then satisfying by his own perception. His body language reflected a state of disdain, as he crossed his arms to magnify the effect and began to speak in a tone that sounded of someone tired of wasting time.
“Do you realize this is not a game? Our empires are at ends because of more than one point of contention? If you have been sent to be lackadaisical in nature I recommend your people sent a more serious representative. We are here to ensure your non-interference in the current battles not to entertain supercilious frivolities. Yours and ours are respective of this at ends…and thus we in theory must find common ground to calm a proverbial patch of rough seas or rugged ground as the metaphor may find you. In short skip the song and dance and tell us why precisely why you are finally bothering to make contact.”
Abruptly, the man seemed to become mildly taken aback by the sharp retort, but he nodded with a bit of disappointment. He’d spent his entire life wrapping himself in the entrails of dead civilizations, mastering tongues they’d never need to speak, familiarizing himself with books and tomes from galaxies the Flux would never tread. It was somewhat disheartening to have what he had come to love shut down so abruptly.
"Fine," he said in immaculate English, with a certain clipped pace to it. "Have it your way. I’m here to as I said elaborate on the circumstance and see if I can talk some sense into you. I merely wished to present myself in the least threatening manner possible." He fixed his otherwise unforceful gaze on the SSC’s representative as he continued.
“We are the oldest surviving indigenous race in this galaxy, did you know that?" The emissary inquired without much hint of the idleness he had cultured earlier. "One does not become the oldest surviving anything without proper considerations for their surroundings. In most cases, this has involved minor editations; we removed the particularly violent civilizations and fostered the more benign varieties. Up until the last century, we existed comfortably here without concern for our detection. In this case, it’s a simple matter of ensuring technological dominance: we are inherently at war with anyone else who might one day do what we do best. Do you understand me in this, ambassador?"
Focht nodded seeming to take the statement in stride. "Well let me explains something to you, there is a bigger multiverse out there...while you’ve been in this almost comically small sandbox of a galaxy entire realitilies have been snuffed out by the same sort of unspeakable evil you and yours are headed towards." To emphasize the point of how small the Flux was playing Focht paced a bit not bothering to look at the Flux representative. "You see...your acts are feeding a great evil, your kind is sadly all to common...you go about your reality trying to adjust things for your benefit or for your perceived benefit of the galaxy...and all those acts pile up...in fact most of them wind up downright resenting your acts...and then. They become corrupted as you
are they begin existing beyond you they make warped realities, and from them eventually they strike against the primary. It is only a matter of time before your seemingly well intended manipulations come back to Ancerious looking to settle the score."
--oOo--
“It’s likely more organized than shameful here, but I do regret not being able to smell that man,” Droix added as further background noise indicated the impending temporal jump echoed through the halls beyond his quarters. He had no particular duty to perform in that aspect; the ship and her crew would take care of the matters at hand well enough.
“I would expect that even including his biological variations that I would have been much more confident of his authenticity and the integrity of his statements had that been possible. “While taking into consideration the posturing involved, Focht demonstrated predisposition against our civilization, describing us as “evil” and spoke of impending retaliation for our actions. As keen an individual as Focht might be, it is evident to this emissary that presuming Focht’s attitudes accurately represent those of the SSC we will have little chance at successful coexistence with this race should such attitudes prove to be unnegotiable.”
--oOo--
A slightly perturbed glare shot through the emissary’s eyes, but his demeanor remained unchanging and even. Evidently Focht held little regard for everything his civilization stood for; that was fair enough. He was not, after all, here to win a popularity contest. He could have pointed out the fact that once the Ascendancy was done by the very nature of the Ascendancy’s actions no one but the Flux would know of the changes made but instead of becoming bogged down countering illogical arguments, the emissary refrained. After all, pointing out the flaws in their reasoning hardly was conducive to his purposes here.
"You offer a most intriguing critique of my civilization, ambassador." He acknowledged delicately. "I can’t say I care all too much about the multiverse however. Our interests lie here," the emissary said, extending a lone pointer finger down in relation to the shuttle’ss artificial gravity, "not in other galaxies. If your native land was invaded, would you advise your first prime that resistance to the ill intents of others would lead to far too much resentment for your own good?"
“Ha! Such haughty ignorance is amusing.” Focht stated loudly. “Fine; there is an old saying about pride and the red hots that fits here I suppose. If you are not going to put anything else out for discussion I suppose we are done here." As if to accent the point Focht actually made a dismissive gesture at the end of the comment and headed for the connecting air lock before turning to the Flux Emissary. "Your species bears the potential to unite the galaxy and yet you squander such potential on insignificant musings of power....for some so advanced I surely expected far better."
The emissary frowned sadly at the comment, but didn’t verbally protest it. This was the third time that he had attempted to converse with Focht; when he had came in his ceremonial robes, he had been lambasted for his pride; when he came in more conventional attire and spoke frankly, Focht criticized the Ascendancy’s motivations; and when he threw presentability to the wind and appeared in his best approximation of ancient Terran attire-garb carefully calculated to trigger a connection to the history Focht did not understand they shared-the SSC’s ambassador called their differences ignorance.
So the emissary said nothing, and quietly came to terms with their differences.
A faint smile and nod of respect were his parting words, and even then, he was not certain Focht would ever appreciate them.
--oOo--
“Of possible relevance here is a varying of definitions pertaining to ‘pride,’ Droix added pensively. “Evidently Focht wished to present negative attitudes towards my diplomatic mission there, and in that he communicated quite clearly. However, for future reference subsequent diplomatic missions, if there are to be any, would be wise to clarify that we do not see ourselves as a prideful people; potentially this could be accomplished by elaborating on our emphasis on not being perceived by the rest of this galaxy. Pride, being undeniably linked to social standing, is irrelevant when the near totality of this galaxy are oblivious to the fact that we have a social
standing in the first place. If we ever are forced to reveal ourselves in our entirety to this galaxy, it will the actions of that hour that will dictate when will be the proper time for us to be proud.”
--oOo--
“And before I go...and report to command precisely what they expected, let me tell you a real sliver of truth, a scary fact that will hopefully make you really reconsider.” Focht added as he stood at the portal, “we are not alike, we are not even close. People like you ruined our homeworld; people like you killed some forty percent of the population through eight separate eras effectively murdering the human race three times over. If you and yours cannot see to abandon your meddling in a force that is far greater then yourself, then the time for hunting will begin in Ancerious and there then will be no place you and yours can hide. I pray it never comes to thus... however prior encounters seem to say otherwise and your actions of past doubly suggest that you are unable to understand your actions. Oh yes,” Focht added with gusto, “we know of Sloane in detail, we know what destroyed the Macon also....we are watching you your next few steps will determine if you are to continue or to be hunted to a state of extinction. Again I pray it never comes to thus because being wrong about an assessment would be a welcome change. I might remind you...once our shuttles undock you have three minutes to leave... after which the gunners wont miss and your vaunted toys might not work as you expect. As Focht uttered the final words, he grinned...an unnerving predatory grin. To the wary they might realize that he posessed a double set of canine teeth and other then those up front the rest seemed a well sized but jagged array. It there was question if Focht was indeed human and if so just what the hell happened on SSC’s Earth to bring such a change about to the race. It was clear he meant all that he said... and yet he remained for a few seconds as if to hear the reply if any.
--oOo--
“The man certainly can deliver a good monologue,” Droix said regretfully as the Patron of Sorrows slipped away from the present. The ship and all its occupants were now falling back through dimensions not commonly traveled by the rest of reality; they were heading back towards all men’s homes, all men’s origins, and they defied reality in the process.
“Focht’s parting declaration confirmed a degree of awareness of our activities previously only suspected by our temporal overseers. Furthermore however, I would postulate that the declaration is in its own way a reassurance for us; he did not detail any further activities than the ones previously specified. As from his perspective all of these events took place at prior points in time, it thus gives credence to the theory that the Centum is not truly a temporally active power; they made no references to upcoming activities on our part which could otherwise have impacted their existence.” Droix shifted in his seat as he continued. “However, this is admittedly hearsay, and I reiterate that he Centum has exhibited an unsanctioned awareness of our activities in this galaxy.”
--oOo--
The threat issued by the was duly registered in the emissary’s mind, but he said nothing in response immediately. It wasn’t necessary, after all; the emissary’s objective had been fulfilled, and ultimately he had at least completed his mission. Even then, the taunting smile was an odd thing. Even the Ascendancy did not dabble in malice of that nature; they were above all things civil, at least in terms of interactions.
"I can only give my sincerest regrets to you then Mister Focht," the emissary murmured softly, before signaling the door to close behind him; and without pause the portal dilated closed, severing whatever connection (however teneous if at all existent) that had existed between the two civilizations. So much had been possible here, but time and time again, the SSC sent that man to make contact with them. The emissary had been granted authorizations in the hope that, miracle upon miracles, stable relations could be established; alas the situation proved untenable.
He had declined to inform Focht-who at this moment was perhaps realizing he had never introduced himself-of the nature of the Ascendancy’s ultimate opponent. Rest assured, they would find out in time. But the less they knew, the better; the emissary had confirmed during his time there that their opponents were aware of their action’s full ramifications, and that would please the Prime Admiral.
--oOo--
“Following these events, the Patron of Sorrows and our escorts executed a temporal withdrawl, and are now proceeding back to chronospatial coordinates predating the departure of our diplomatic party. As such, everything that I have just described in this report will not happen.” Droix smiled slightly at that, but not for the obvious reasons. It was a smile of disappointment, for this manuever would create a variant of his own life where he would never have the opportunity to make contact with Focht, or the Sciastenos Centum. Even as a failed mission not lasting more than ten minutes, it was the highlight of Droix’s life; everything he had lived for had been lived for the sake of those ten minutes.
Besides, Droix though silently as he began to add further details to the report, forever and never are really rather misleading words.
“As such, per my report I would advise the following: that as this present point in the timeline finds the Centum unwilling to tolerate our way of life that we refrain from antagonizing them further at this point simply as a matter of practicality. We are already engaging a more temporally competent opponent, and should focus our efforts therein.”
“Furthermore, following third party reviews of sensor interactions between the Patron of Sorrows and the Centum’s fleet, it is advisable that we implement revisions to our particle displacement systems. Even with the Centum now lacking the information they would have gained from this encounter, I find it highly likely that with small amounts of luck the Centum may become problematic for our operations. In the interest of avoiding further civilization-scale edits to the timeline, we must as some say ‘step up our game.’”
“Furthermore, I advise…” Droix said, and advise he did.
So as the Patron of Sorrows and her escort raced into the past, the future changed.