Chapter 14: Finally, Rest
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Hasan sat down in the conference room and leaned back in his chair and pondered. The day -- the past few days, really, although they’d started to sort of run together a little bit -- had been more than a little eventful. Sure, he’d expected to do some interesting research on the first human-led extrasolar mission, but this was frankly ridiculous. The entire research staff had been, despite their best efforts, sitting on their hands waiting for something to do. Now it was suddenly clear that they were his research staff, and he had been delegating and distributing tasks related to the discovery of several new alien species and the preliminary information they’d sort of dumped in his lap. They had apparently prepared a three-hour documentary about the First Federation, the species in it, and even a quick overview of the various species -- intelligent or otherwise -- living on various planets. They numbered in the hundreds. His biology department had quickly begun coordinating with the on-ship counselors and other licensed psychologists to establish a xenoculture department. 

Material was being moved around, everyone was confused and they were still trying to suss out who was qualified enough to reprogram the ship’s Virtual Intelligence, because it was having trouble accepting a new science department that had just sort of sprung up. In the middle of all of that, there were the fights breaking out between his departments, because everyone wanted dibs and everyone claimed seniority, priority or just jurisdiction (whatever that was supposed to mean). He’d only barely got done putting out the latest fires when he got the call from the captain for a debrief, and he had considered requesting they go back to Earth to do some proper retrofitting for the new department. Ultimately he’d decided against it. There were practical reasons, of course. It would cost them time, there would be paperwork, they’d all come under review, a new crew might be established, etcetera. That was the real reason, after all. He really didn’t want to risk being replaced by someone with more diplomatic experience. He really wanted to see alien worlds. He was even willing to put up with department heads all talking about each other behind their backs. 

Besides, they couldn’t bother him while he was meeting the ambassadors of actual living alien species, and he’d spent time with the four that hadn’t gone with Blake. As the lead Science Officer, he had been the first to ask some of the weirder questions (‘How does olfactory communication work’ and ‘Why don’t your wormholes collapse immediately’ or ‘How does a server tower on wheels communicate across a galaxy?’) to which the answers had usually been ‘We’ll tell you later’ and ‘None of your business’. Not that the envoys hadn’t been eager to talk or share their knowledge. It had just always been very specific knowledge, and he was in the mood to dig. But there would (probably) be time for that later.

The captain and First Officer Blake walked in. Hasan began to stand up, but Captain Durand stopped him with a gesture and sat down herself. Clinton plopped himself down next to Hasan. He looked exhausted, but more in a… social, mental sense than any physical one. 

“Aliens,” Captain Durand said, her hands clasped together in her lap as she lazily spun her chair left and right. 

“Aliens,” Hasan nodded with a little smile. “Weird ones, too.” Clinton chuckled softly. “What do you think, Captain? Any plans or thoughts, so far? I take it you’ve been seeing quite a bit more of our guests than I have.” The envoys had returned to their ship, but for now, both vessels just kind of hung in space opposite each other. 

“Not that much more, Prakoso,” she said. “You’ve been meeting with them pretty much non-stop.” Prakoso shrugged. She wasn’t wrong, with the exception of the one fistfight between a geologist and a biologist who had both called dibs on writing a paper about something that had appeared in the documentary. Apparently, the argument had started over whether it was a mineral-based plant or a rock with a plant-like structure. An interesting debate, certainly, but not one worth knocking out teeth over. “But we have come to something of an agreement.” Hasan leaned forward, listening. “They’ll send us the location of the First Federation Core World, and we’re cordially invited to come visit at the soonest. 

“Doesn’t really sound like we have much of a choice,” Clinton said. “Not that I mind,” he added, and Hasan nodded. He felt much the same way. 

“Agreed,” Captain Durand said. “We’ll go soon. The envoys will meet us there, although they’ve requested that Petri stay on board as a liaison. Entirely at our discretion, of course.” Hasan heard Clinton shift in his seat. 

“Why keep the least experienced member of their team on board this ship? Wouldn’t Ambassador Proteus be a much better representative?” Hasan asked. 

“I think their junior status is exactly the reason,” the Captain said. “They probably don’t want to risk losing Proteus for long, and it gives Petri some experience.”

“We’re getting the intern,” Hasan said, and the Captain cracked a smile. Not that he was specifically hunting for her approval, but it was nice to be able to help her relax, especially after the past few days. 

“Exactly,” she said, “so I want to leave a good and lasting impression.” She turned to Clinton. “Mister Blake, I want you to make our guest feel at home for the journey. They’ll be with us for some time, and anything less than our First Officer’s attention might send the wrong message.” Hasan heard Clinton shift in his seat. 

“Of course, Captain,” Clinton said, but there was a slight trepidation in his voice. Hasan wondered if the Captain heard it too. If she did, she wasn’t saying anything, looking out the window. “Will they be staying with us until the Core World?”

Captain Durand gave a noncommittal hand gesture. “Yes, they will. And after that, if they click well with the crew. Apparently they’ll be picking up some knowledge once they reconnect with a larger section of the Unity.” She chewed her tongue. “I’m still not sure what to think about them. All of them. All of this.” She turned to Clinton and Hasan. “I’d like your thoughts.”

Hasan looked at Clinton, who nodded and sat up straight. “Well,” Clinton said, “The Unity are clearly the ‘leaders’ of the First Federation, officially or not. They’ve been around for millions of years, and seem to have…” He paused, looking for words. Hasan figured that moment was as good as any to get up and grab everyone a drink. The meeting room had a cabinet for just such things. He held up a glass and the other two both nodded. “They’ve stagnated,” Clinton continued as Hasan poured everyone a glass of water. “But they don’t seem to mind. They’re quite happy not expanding, not really developing new technologies. I can’t help but wonder if they’re working on something in secret, of course. If, as a species, you’re millions of years old, I can’t help but figure that running out of resources in the long term is something you’d be concerned about.”

Hasan handed everyone a glass and sat back down again. “I agree,” he said. “It’s like they have a… collective memory. Who knows how far back that goes. They have to be planning things long-term.” Captain Durand nodded, but stayed quiet. “I think they have a perspective we are going to have some trouble relating to.” Clinton made a little noise of agreement. “It’s like they have less of a sense of individuality, although the younger ones tend to be a little bit more… separate. So, personally, I think having Petri on board will be a good way to get to know what they’re like as individuals.”

“Good points,” the Captain said, and sipped her water. 

“Speaking of galactic leaders,” Hasan said, “I get the feeling there’s some tension between the Unity and the Deep Khatunate. Or at least between Proteus and Ambassador Dark.” 

“You saw that too, hmm?” the Captain asked. Hasan and Clinton both nodded. 

“Yeah,” Clinton said. “It’s hard to get a read on Ambassador Dark.” He paused. “The name and the fact that we can’t see him doesn’t help. Have either of you picked up anything more about his species?”

Hasan nodded. “They communicate through bioluminescence. That’s what the flashing lights on the suit are for. Their colours are an efficient way of communicating information in large batches, if your brain is suited for it.” He interlaced his fingers. “It’s an interesting way of conveying information. Nothing we can use, but it’s still, you know…” he opened his hands, “cool.” Clinton smirked. The captain just nodded. “Ambassador Dark has his name because he’s essentially almost ‘mute’. That is to say that he has almost no photophores -- the organs that give off light -- and apparently that’s how he became a diplomat. Essentially, he can only whisper, and that means the other members of his species have to pay attention.” The Captain raised her eyebrows. Hasan shrugged with a little smile. “I asked Proteus about it. He seemed more than happy to gossip about the Deep ambassador.”

“I like Proteus,” Clinton blurted out. Hasan and Captain Durand looked at him, and he seemed to momentarily almost -- almost -- flinch. There was the idea of a flinch, if not an actual one. “He seems to genuinely care about talking to humans. I have the feeling others won’t be like him. I think he’s… sure, he’s got that life-long-diplomat vibe, but there’s more to it.” 

“Please elaborate,” the Captain said. 

“Well, he’s essentially one of his species that was kind of chosen, if not raised specifically to meet us,” Clinton said. “That means he’s spent his entire life studying our cultures, our histories, and even our languages.” 

Hasan nodded. “That makes sense. What’s your point?”

“Well… have you ever met someone who was like… really into Japan? Like, studied the language, the history, stuff like that?”

“Oh my god,” Hasan said. 

“Yeah,” Clinton said, grinning, and Hasan found the smile spread to his own face too. The captain exhaled loudly through her nose and Hasan liked to think he knew her well enough to be able to tell that she was trying to keep from laughing more loudly. “He’s… a dork, essentially. And I think he’s a little star struck.”

“That’s… a very… interesting read, Clinton,” the captain said, with a slightly quavering voice. “I wonder how he’d feel about that assessment. What about the others?”

“Doctor Hyslan seems nice,” Hasan said. “I’d like to have her over to our department for a more in-depth few days, run her by some of the stuff we know.” He leaned back in his chair. “Doctor-to-doctor, you know? She’s also nice to talk to.”

“Yeah, she was kinda cute,” Clinton said, and then grew bright red as four eyebrows were raised in his direction. “I’m just saying… Not in like, a human way, but like… come on. I just want to pat her on the head.”

“Please don’t,” the captain said. “That might cause something of a diplomatic incident.” She was smiling broadly now, and then lowered her voice to a loud whisper. “Though I got the urge, too. She’s very fluffy.”

“What about Rep?” Hasan asked. “I got no read on him.” The Captain’s expression turned serious again. 

“Me neither. I don’t trust him,” she said. “He’s a machine intelligence, and we have no idea what it is he wants. If he even wants anything.”

Hasan shrugged. “We could ask.” 

“Fair,” Clinton said. “I think we’re about to have a lot more questions soon. When do we leave for the Core World?”

Captain Durand stood up. “We will go,” she said with authority, swaying slightly, “after I’ve had some sleep. Two days worth, permitting.” She nodded. “Gentlemen. Go to bed. That’s an order.”

Both of them saluted with a small smile. “Aye, Cathérine,” they both said, and left. Hasan winked at her, and they shared a grin before he went to finally get some rest.

Gosh they have to be so tired. Also Proteus is a space weeb, sorry!

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