Emerald pt. 2
26 Jul 2022User319792
This log is the product of a collaboration with CMDR Bluecrash. Thanks and good tidings to CMDR Bluecrash. For further details see CMDR Bluecrash’ log https://inara.cz/galaxy-logbooks/70914/
The Imperial Diplomat stood, his head increasingly bowed under the weight of the Imperial Senator’s gaze, and the latter spoke in curt tones, the Imperial Diplomat feeling every word like the crack from a whip.
“Do not feed Allamanda after midnight or get her wet.”
The man in the black suit and I looked back and forth at them, one after another, for quite some time as a swarm of thargons collected some 115 meters behind the Imperial Diplomat to form the shape of the Empire’s Imperial Eagle Insignia, the array’s head thrusting forward, toward the back of his head.
The man in the black suit looked toward the Imperial Senator, who continued to burden the Imperial Diplomat with a heavy, all-extorting gaze, and spoke, “Senator Bluecrash, your continued efforts as a leader and war hero for the Empire have been on the tongues of not a few of tonight’s guests. There’s been a lot of talk about your xeno-combat vessels and I’m sure Cadence would love to pick your brain about it. As for tonight’s main fare, these pieces are grand of a scale unimaginable and I can see how it resonates with the your life inasmuch as you’ve been generous enough to share with us a peek into,” he looked around, taking in a few of the Thargoid interceptors while continuing, ''I've never seen anything like it.”
The Imperial Senator glanced at him, nodding slowly before returning her gaze to the Imperial Diplomat, and spoke to no one in particular, “I’ve been told you’ve been occupied with matters of importance to your organization in the California Sector Nebula. With Salvation’s work in HIP 22460, I’ve been curious as to the Thargoid presence in the area, especially after such colorful images emerged from old Caleb.”
The man in the black suit nodded, “They currently maintain a significant presence in the nebula, Senator. Whatever Salvation’s work may be intended on accomplishing in the core systems, the thargoids are far from being a threatened species. Even with all the work currently being done by the various anti-xeno groups, California is a mere eleven-hundred light-years out and it would be a stretch to suggest that the Mic Turner group has a stranglehold on the xeno-presence. Cadence has mentioned some oddities with regard to her experiences with them in the nebula.”
The Imperial Senator slowly turned away from the Imperial Diplomat and toward me, her eye coming to rest on me with the same catastrophic bearing as our first meeting and I managed to let the words fall from me, “They have options in the region, Senator.”
The Senator nodded, taking in another detachment of thargons traveling past our group to arrange itself into a wave pattern that ebbed and flowed in time with the music. She glanced at me again, “Indeed. I’m reminded of an author of classics, who once said that what matters most is how well you walk through the fire. Whatever the outcome of Salvation’s work in HIP 22460, I am without a doubt that we will soon come to know with great clarity the caliber of the Thargoid species.”
I took the words in, as the Senator looked again away from us, and the Imperial Diplomat took it as an opportunity to address me, “Ms. Nain, in light of the… complications,” He looked away briefly, taking a deep breath.
I watched as the corners of his mouth tightened. I caught the faintest twitching in the muscles around his eyes, paired with the slightest glimmer on the surface, quivering in tandem with the thargon swarm, which began to flap its wings in powerful strokes behind his head.
As its beak turned toward us, he continued, “... surrounding our previous arrangement, Imperial Senator Bluecrash has deemed that our interactions tonight remain brief, and related only to what my principle has deemed in the best interests of Her Empire. Nonetheless, I have been asked to ensure that your needs for the night are met.”
The Imperial Senator looked toward us, before returning her gaze to the Imperial Diplomat, who shrunk into himself again. Orion and the man in the black suit hadn’t much discussed him since he’d suspended our operations in Facece, for obvious reasons, and I was surprised that he hadn’t been outright killed by the Senator. I exhaled a short burst of air through my nostrils and my head raised slightly before I returned to my previous impassivity. I looked again toward Senator Bluecrash and she turned toward a group that slowly revealed itself amidst the throng.
“Milky Way News live coverage, delayed by order of Aisling Duval, on Emerald in the Cemeiss system. We have covered art openings in the past, but never have we seen an attendance quite like this.”
We’d been provided ‘Senator Bluecrash’ public relations materials in the past and I’d never thought much beyond its utility to the Senator. Tonight, amidst the spectacle in which I’d found myself- a kilometers-squared semi-underground facility housing life-sized thargoid interceptors made from pieces of Guardian technology, standing what now seemed more like one-hundred-or-more meters above the ground engulfed in a kaleidoscope of lights and sounds erupting from speakers, meticulously placed trusses, and an ever growing colony of thargons swarming in detachments throughout the hall- I saw the Imperial Senator’s potency at full-wingspan.
A woman stood with a microphone, its capsule enclosed in a pop-filter shaped like a thargoid barnacle, and her camera-man stood beside myself and the man in the black suit. The camera lens, pointing in the direction of the Imperial Senator, was surprisingly unpretentious in the face of the rest of the crew’s myriad tools-of-the-trade. Senator Bluecrash, double-mic’d by the woman and a boom operator with a microphone that was made to look like a miniature thargon complete with lasers and an accompanying swarm, remained nonplussed in the face of unyielding exposure, listening to the woman with mild interest.
“The people’s princess did not disappoint, wearing the latest in fashion. Her limited edition, Beignets Desserit, Al’Ar piece, illuminated the air around her with a warm fiery glow.”
The Imperial Diplomat turned toward the woman at the mention of The Empress, his eyes widening slightly, before returning his eyes to me with his head still bowed. His closeness, paired with the thought that I might be in the same room as the Empress, raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Our reactions went unnoticed to the man in the black suit, who looked back and forth at the Imperial Senator and her media machine.
“The Imperial Senator’s show brought both Federation and Empire leaders together for a chance to see Thargoid inspired art as well as a chance to bid on some rare uncovered Earth art created on canvas and real paint! ‘Hands Across Cornsar’ members were outside quietly petitioning the gathering of Elites.”
I looked toward the exit, nearly a kilometer away from where we stood, trying to remember if I’d seen anything other than the guards, Imperial Special Operatives, and the multiple arrays of thargon swarms. One detachment had now aggregated behind the Imperial Senator and her media apparatus, perhaps a kilometer away, framing the Senator’s head at the center of a spiral pulsing both in motion and in a flurry of lights and lasers that produced the appearance of the Senator’s having an otherwise unrecognizably youthful face.
“Their civil discourse has not been a disturbance to the Princess’ event, and they were permitted free use of their own roped-off area, complete with complimentary pizza and refreshments. We were able to release some of the following non-redacted conversations.”
The woman paused for a moment and I heard the faintest sound of voices coming from the headset worn by her camera-man.
“The first wave of people only came to critique the art, and to consume the expensive cheeses and wines that accompany art shows.”
“Eh ceddev mead th’t. Nob’dy gon’ buy any o’ thz”
“Wish I could sleep my way to the top like Blue.”
“Yeah. My alarm clock always wakes me up.”
The camera-man pointed to the woman, who began again, “The gallery curators seemed uninterested in the guests, making private deals with various curators and representatives of other galleries here on Emerald.”
She turned to the Imperial Senator and various voices amidst the throng caught my ear as the Imperial Senator turned her head to meet the question,
“I can get tons of Gamma strain for half of what you are telling me. Transfer the credits.”
“Good evening, Senator Bluecrash. Can I call you Blue? The night appears to be a spectacular success and it's only just begun. Rumor has it the enormity-of-scale of your effort hasn’t gone unnoticed by certain individuals of note to Imperial society. It’s also been said that there happened to be an interesting conversation between yourself and a certain aspiring politician. Is there anything you can share with your constituents, and with Her Empire on the whole, about these or any other rumors making their way through the room tonight?”
“I wish I was the royalty, looks like she can just put whomever she wants in a show. Never even heard of Blue”
I noticed that the Imperial Diplomat was still standing before me, as if awaiting any requests. I looked toward Senator Bluecrash, before turning back to him. I watched, he fading to a blur, as the thargon swarm behind him had again begun to move, its head pulsing toward and away from the Imperial Diplomat’s head. I saw the Imperial Senator’s mouth begin to move and I turned my gaze away from the man, hoping to hear the Senator.
“I’m the one that asks the questions here. Get that mic out of my face.”
The Senator’s tone surprised me and I let out a peal of laughter, toward which the Senator turned, her dead eye slowly coming to rest on me. The woman took the Senator’s response in stride, smiling toward her camera-man, who coughed down a laugh, and the man in the black suit looked toward the direction Mr. Rackham and his entourage disappeared.
“I was just hoping for some information from the night’s main attraction, Blue.”
The Senator turned to face the woman, her laggard eye slowly traveling to rest on the woman’s microphone.
“You don’t really want to know. Only the secret cabals care about Raxxla anymore.”
She seemed less than thrilled by the woman’s familiarity and the woman danced around the Senator’s darkened mood. I’d expected the Milky Way News team to be familiar enough with the Senator’s general demeanor to have navigated the contours of the jagged and pocked landscape left behind by Mr. Rackham but I hadn’t anticipated the Senator to be so gruff with her own media machine.
“We were hoping you’d be willing to talk about rumors of Princess Aisling’s interest in your work. Your laboratory has been known to make use of various thargoid samples and Guardian relics for its research. Was your work here tonight intended on drawing attention away from the current efforts in HIP 22460 by this ‘Salvation’… perhaps a salve to calm jittery nerves concerned with the increasing presence of the xeno-species in the immediate aftermath of the Thargoid strike in Novas?”
I looked away from the woman toward Senator Bluecrash, who’d nodded off mid-question, waking again with a start and looking toward the woman, finally answering, “All the planets in Sol were named after G_ds. Except Earth. The planetoid Pluto was named by a little girl named Venetia Burney. Pluto, keeping with the tradition.. Pluto… G_d of the underworld. I’ve been stuck there my whole life. And now… It is time to move on.”
I looked toward the man in the black suit, who was staring wide-eyed at the Imperial Senator, and he slowly lowered his jaw, quickly turning to me. I watched carefully as his face seemed to rip open horizontally before returning to its original shape as he turned back to the Senator.
“This exhibit, say one or two thousand years ago. People changing UFO to UAP. This exhibit would have cracked or healed the whole unidentified Aerial Phenomena craze. Imagine a friendly Thargoid then?!”
The Senator seemed to notice the man in the black suit, turning to meet his gaze. The man in the black suit felt the Senator’s stare and appeared to remember himself, blurting out to the surprise of the reporter and her crew, “There’s a new bank… And a new trust… Why don’t you just talk about the new bank?”
The woman looked at the man in the black suit with unbridled contempt, her camera-man diverting the lens away from her and toward another swarm of thargoids aggregating into concentric rings that pulsed like an ancient oscilloscope. The Senator turned back toward the reporter and the camera-man shifted the lens back toward the two as the thargon swarm continued to pulse in increasingly jagged patterns framing a violent halo around the two.
“Ecumenopolis. A foundation you can trust. We had very humble beginnings.”
The reporter smiled at Imperial Senator Bluecrash and I could hear audio bleeding from the camera-man’s headset. The man in the black suit squinted, leaning closer to me and the camera-man to hear the trailing end of what I assume was an old holocomm from the Imperial Senator’s previous business ventures,
“... We’ll even clean your clocks. Order of Twelve Imperial Drape and Laundry, with locations in LAWD 26, Sirius, and Delta Pavonis, with 28 more locations opening soon.
The camera-man, who’d holstered his camera across the back of his neck, returned it to its original position and the reporter, looking over her shoulder at a thargon swarm forming the double-X O symbol used by the Imperial Senator for Order of Twelve internal documents, nodded her camera-man to the swarm before turning back to the Senator and beginning again, “Blue, it's been said that people call you the ‘Last Raxxla Hunter.’”
“They never meant it as a compliment,” droned the Senator, as she looked over her shoulder at a party goer that leaned in too closely, hoping to find herself in frame with the Senator, “You can wait outside with the children.”
“And your new financial venture, Ecumenopolis, is this connected to your Raxxla research?”
“Our Raxxla research would not be able to continue. The Ziggurats have been whispering, And there is one group who vowed to protect these ancient towers, while we conduct more research.”
“What kind of research?”
“The stars, how does star lifting work? What does it power? Why is Raxxla so small? How do we get inside? Who created Raxxla and why?”
I looked away from them both, squinting as I tried making sense of the conversation. The Imperial Senator raised her hand toward security, indicating to an Imperial special operative that the party goer was in the wrong place. The Imperial Diplomat seemed to have been paying attention as well, but turned toward a slowly growing hole amidst the throng that traveled closer and closer to us.
“Sounds like you are going to need trillions, Blue.”
“Hopefully encasing and moving things out of the Karadjari docking bay won't be too expensive. RP4D suggested we just buy the whole station and crash it into the planet Raxxla whispers about. And if it truly is Raxxla, it will survive, cracking Dufay open like a bad easter egg on the planet.”
The Imperial Diplomat quickly took a step back, his neck craning forward as if caught in a noose, and The Empress stepped forward. From the corner of my eye, I watched the party-goer disappear in a flurry of dark shapes. The thargon swarm that had framed the Senator and reporter disintegrated, only to reappear with nearly thrice the number of thargons, forming a pentad that adorned The Empress’ tiara shining, with brightness that forced me to shield my eyes. Senator Bluecrash, still occupied with the reporter, continued with her discussion and The Empress turned toward me, her entourage doing the same. 24 and one-half eyes, all staring at me, two more penetrating than the rest and I felt a rush of cold air wash over me.
Senator Bluecrash turned her attention to the pentad, immediately turning back around to look at the Empress, who turned away from me to face the Senator. 22 and one-half eyes remained trained on me and a group of Imperial special operatives closed ranks in front of me, leaving me with nothing to see but the most intensely radiant lights in the room, unyielding, stoic, and painfully luminous.