---Podium---
---Emiko’s perspective---
“And, without further ado, I shall hand you off to the coordinator of this expedition, Emiko ‘Smiles’ Miyazaki.” says Mudaliar, gesturing to me.
I step to the podium flanked by Thran to my left.
I am the last to speak.
We’ve already heard Intelligence Agents briefing us on currently available information about the Revanchists, Mudaliar giving an impassioned speech on the significance of our mission and, now, it’s my turn.
Comparatively, my task is rather mundane and functional.
I just have to give basic introductions.
However, I decide to start by saying “Thank you all for coming… You have heard my colleagues tell you about the recent attempt on my life and the life of Representative Mudaliar here. So, I would like to start by saying that, if any of you do not wish to proceed on this voyage, you may walk away now. The ODR will not seek to punish you in any way for valuing your own safety!”
I pause here and look around for anyone making to leave.
As anxiety inducing as it is to make this offer, it is the right thing to do.
The contracts they have all signed have punitive breach clauses.
I would hate for any of them to feel forced onto this expedition because they didn’t realise that those clauses wouldn’t be enforced under these circumstances.
Mercifully, no one makes to go.
“Good! Then, I shall start on the introductions.” I smile “As Mr Mudaliar said, I am Emiko ‘Smiles’ Miyazaki and I am the coordinator of this expedition. This…” I gesture to Thran “…is my bodyguard, Thran ‘Gimli’ Hunter. To my right, you can see Tcakqaal, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak, the owner and Captain of the Bright Plume, the vessel that shall be conveying us to AG10790263b. Beside her are CSS Victor ‘Cuddles’ Taylor, ASO Tuun ‘Elf’…” I smile as I remember the girl’s request for how to introduce her “…soon to become ASO Tuun ‘Elf’ Taylor… and SO Brunhilda ‘Samus’ Arran… The Bright Plume’s security team… At the back there…”
I gesture to the permanently sneering R’qali woman on a species specific perch with her husband.
Every head turns to her.
She seems momentarily surprised by being the first to be introduced after those on stage.
It only takes her a moment to adopt a slight smirk, letting me know exactly what she’s thinking; ‘Yes, I am that important!’
“…you will see Waqa’arc, 15th Daughter of Highspire Peak and her lifemate, Akrat. She is the expedition’s Compliance Officer… so everyone be on your best behaviour around her(!)”
There’s a slight titter and the woman resumes her sneer.
“In the front row here…” I gesture to the tall, slender, dark skinned woman “…you will see Lt Xon ‘Longstride’ Loper, our Military Liaison and Advisor.”
She stands and turns, holding up her hand in greeting and letting all see her face.
“Over there, you will see Dr Nkasiogi ‘Hook’ Zunberi and, beside her, Dr Felicity ‘Scowls’ Mink…”
I think about saying ‘Soon to become Felicity ‘Scowls’ Zunberi’ but decide against it as she made no such request.
“Dr Zunberi and Dr Mink are our expedition’s conservation consultants. It bears mentioning that Dr Zunberi’s brother, sat beside Dr Mink, is also called Dr Zunberi and is also employed on the ship, though independently and not as an ODR contractor… Over there…” I gesture to the Vietnamese and Navajo gentlemen “…you’ll see Dr Cường ‘Heart’ Phan and Dr Niyol ‘Healer’ Hatathli, our Humanitarian observers. Beside Dr Phan is our press liaison, Soo ‘Nose’…”
The Suigu shape shifts to gain 60cm or so of height and twists her gelatinous body around with a broad grin on her face.
“Just there…” I indicate the large amphibian man “…is our Technologies Officer, Baorbo. There…” I gesture to the diminutive Russian who stands up on top of her chair to get the height necessary to make herself visible “…you can see Dr Olga ‘Data’ Semyonova Petrikov, our data analyst. Over there…” I gesture to the plump, half Denisovan woman “…is Dr Jae ‘Peach’ Stone, our sociologist. Beside her is Tymancha ‘Eagle’ Nulgynet, our tracker and wilderness survival expert. Over there…” I gesture to the UTCIS agents “…you’ll see Agent Leon ‘Kennedy’ Byrne and Agent Ziva ‘Whisper’ Pereira, our Intelligence Officers. Next to Agent Byrne…” I gesture to the little cyclopean woman “…is our statistician, Enas. At the front here, you will see Master Shí Dǎo Yuán, our health and fitness instructor. I would like to take this opportunity to publicly and personally thank Master Yuán for his effective resolution of the other night’s assassination attempt.” I say, warmly.
The man smiles and waves a hand as if to say ‘It was nothing at all, really!’, in spite of the significant injuries and blood loss he sustained!
“Just there…” I indicate the pale skinned, statuesque Spelvuk woman and her Eurasian American husband “…are Drs Fischer, Alchyinad ‘Dimitrescu’ and Marc ‘King-of-the-Squirrels’. They provide onboard therapy and counselling sessions and I encourage any who feel they would benefit to make use of their services… Apologies in advance for your packed schedules, Doctors(!)” I quip.
The Fischer man shakes his fist at me in mock frustration as his wife does a hissing giggle through her sharp teeth.
I turn to indicate the blond New Australian “That gentleman there is Mr Steve ‘Taipan’ Kelly, our consultant on natural toxins and animal handling.” he stands and grins around, genially “There is Dr Yasmin ‘Gold Tongue’ Soltani, our linguist. Here…” I signal the large, brown furred Ursus sapiens “…is Dr Björn ‘Mimir’ Túpuson, our historiographer, and, beside him…” I indicate the Terran woman with the most heavily modded appearance of anyone I’ve ever known personally “…Dr Lilith ‘Unicorn’ Morningstar and…” I gesture to the metre and a half tall man who looks uncannily like a humanoid owl “…Strik, our folklorist and archaeologist, respectively. Over there…” I motion to the slender, pale blue skinned, Qlofltli woman “…is Weyavl, our political analyst and, beside her…” I motion to the bulky, four armed, crimson skinned man who, with his mouth shut, has a deceptively avian looking snout. When he opens his mouth, you’re able to see that what looks like his beak, when its hidden in his lips, is actually a single, long, conical tusk, jutting from his bottom jaw and adapted to piercing the shells of the crablike creatures that are his people’s main food source on their cradleworld, Karg “…is our architectural consultant, Gamoiwoth… I’m afraid that that will have to conclude our introductions of those already aboard. Sincere apologies if your name was left out.”
There just isn’t time to introduce everyone of the nonODR crew, we would be here all night!
It feels odd specifically leaving out Cookie, Mouse and Hasiakh, and only giving Mage a partial introduction but, if I introduced them, then there’s really no excuse for not introducing the entire crew!
Only the ODR contractors, Captain and security team…
Everyone else will have to meet and introduce themselves on their own time.
“Now, on to introducing the new arrivals. Ms Miraala?”
I beckon the mermaid to the stage, invitingly.
She hovers up the steps, seeming to have already navigated to the ‘gradients’ setting and adjusted it to make her ascent smoother.
She begins signing to the room, her translation giving the effect of a raised voice to her gestures, exaggerated for greater visibility.
“It is lovely to meet all of you! I am Miraala and I am an Osiyul. I shall be the Oceanographer on this expedition. I hope you will keep me safe(!)” she wobbles her head which layers a humorous tone over the last sentence she signs “…Thank you.”
She hovers to one side to make room for the next new crewmember.
“Short and sweet…” I smile “…Thank you, Miraala. Sknz’h…? Could I ask you to come to the stage and introduce yourself?”
The roughworlder who stands and begins making her way up the central aisle between seats is, more than any other sapient I’ve ever laid eyes on, the stuff of. absolute. nightmares!
Her entire body is encased in glossy, chitin plates, in dark brown, with vivid scarlet and pale beige accents.
Behind her trails around 5m of what it isn’t quite accurate to call a ‘tail’.
It’s lined with dozens of short, chitinous legs, that keep it suspended from the ground, making it a hind body segment, however much it looks like a long, thick tail.
Her forebody consists of six long limbs, four of which are currently being held nervously in front of her chest, two of which she is stood upright on. Though, she is capable of moving on all six in a sprint.
The 12 fingers of her four hands each have one fewer joints than a Human’s, the four thumbs each being a single claw with only a knuckle joint, the two fingers they each oppose having one joint in the middle in addition to their knuckles.
The two claws on each of her feet, like her thumbs, have only a single, knuckle joint.
Her head, more than anything else about her, resembles a centipede's, with two compound eyes, three sets of two mandibles and two long, sensory antennae, whisking this way and that.
The most instinctively disturbing thing about this woman, however, is not her appearance… nor the clicking and clacking of her chitin on the polished wood of the gymnasium’s floor… it’s something I know about her…
That is not her body.
In fact, what I’m looking at isn’t even the body of a sapient creature!
Or… it is… in the same way as the clothes I’m wearing are the clothes of a sapient creature…
The actual body of the woman (piloting a livestock animal specifically bred as ideal hosts to the stage) is around the size of my fist and located at the base of it’s skull, surgically implanted there at its birth.
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According to rumour, there were dark science attempts made to implant her species into the bodies of Human’s during the War.
Though, again according to rumour, even devoid of a cerebellum, the Human body’s immune system was simply too potent to allow for any operational value to come of such twisted experiments. Immunosuppression simply meant succumbing to Human pathogens instead of our white blood cells.
It's chilling to think, in a reality just a little to the left of our own, I might have had to fight against Human, meatpuppet, corpses piloted around the battlefield by a sapient parasite species!
‘Then again…’ I think, as I watch her climb the stage ‘…I can’t let my instinctive revulsion for how she looks or how her species lifecycle works prejudice me against her! She can’t help what she is any more than I can help being a deathworlder and, more importantly, neither of us should have to!… She’s not hurting anyone… unless you count the animal who’s lobotomised body she’s claimed… That’s not really any different, ethically, to people eating meat not grown in a lab, though… It’s not as if it’s suffering… I really hope!!!… Nope! I need to stop thinking about it and just treat her the same way I would treat any other sapient!… Honestly, Emiko! This is precisely the kind of prejudice that the ODR exists to mitigate!… You can’t let squeamishness get in the way of respect!’
The Vk’unhz woman, in the body of a hrszk centipede, mounts the stage and, in contrast to her stomach churning appearance, excitedly introduces herself with the translated tone of a nervous, squeaky voiced girl as she says “Hello… My name is Sknz’h and I am the anatomist… I’m a colleague of Thaïs at Citadel University of the Biological Sciences…” she gestures to the, yet to be introduced, androgynous Human at the back of the room, where she was sitting “…but… of course… you haven’t met them yet, have you…*heheh*…” she laughs, nervously “…erm… I’m… hoping to learn a lot about the new species and help with things like developing nervejacking that will allow translators to work for them… as well as…err… perhaps, seeing about possible medical advances, that might be possible because of them… and, possibly-no, that’s too many ‘possibles’!… Erm… Anyway… I look forward to working with all of you… and… if you ever hear either me or Thaïs shouting ‘IT’S ALIIIIIVE!!!’… don’t worry about it(!)”
That was an admirable attempt at diffusing her poor introduction speech with humour…
It didn’t land well!
My guess is that most others in the audience are as (or more) put off by the woman’s appearance than I am.
Kindly, I smile “Thank you, Ms Sknz’h! We very much look forward to working with you as well… Could I ask Thaïs ‘Darwin’ Lamark to come up and introduce themself?”
The light haired Frenchperson at the back of the room stands and begins to make their way up to the stage.
Despite their almost teenaged appearance, they are about to become the oldest Terran aboard the Bright Plume at 125!
They are short and slender with fair skin, flaxen coloured hair and pale blue eyes.
Everything about their face and body is perfectly epicene.
With grace and confidence not demonstrated by their Vk’unhz colleague, Thaïs introduces themself “Yes, hello… I am Thaïs. As my friend Skunzie has let you know, we two are colleagues at a University here on Citadel, where we collaborate quite closely… I am a geneticist and evolutionary scientist… and quite an accomplished one at that. Where no one can tell you better than she what anatomical features an organism possesses, no one can tell you better than I why it possesses them. Together with her, I hope to be able to build a comprehensive natural history of this new species and its ecology. I thank you all for enabling us to do that.”
Thaïs steps aside.
Their demeanour is slightly arrogant but, somehow, charming in spite of that!
“Alright then. Thank you Mx Lamark… Next, Mr Ro’oo’u’ouu…” I say, croaking a sound like a groaning tree branch and probably butchering the pronunciation “…I won’t ask you to come onto the stage. Please, stay where you are and introduce yourself.”
I smile kindly at the impractically gargantuan man.
Easily 9m tall, with a body of gnarled wood and a language of deep, slow creaks, reminiscent of unsped-up whale song, the massive Grauntian has gravitic compensator devices festooning his body, even in this Galactic Standard gravity.
Obviously, no private room on the ship is capable of accommodating him.
Fortunately though, he has assured us that being allowed an allotment of space in Hydroponics along with plenty of clean, fresh water, is all he needs.
His species don’t get bored easily and don’t tend to move unless they have somewhere they need to go, so he says he’ll happily curl up under the lights and not go crawling about the corridors(!)
His body plan is, more or less, humanoid, with two long legs, over which is a trunk, on the sides of which are two long arms and over which is a head.
Fine manipulation is not performed by his stiff, woody hands, instead being done by prehensile vine tendrils that sprout from his body here and there.
His chest, back, shoulders, arms and head are covered in thick foliage, having the effect of making him look like a Human with a very thick coat of body hair(!)
I say ‘he’ but, in actuality, his species do not divide themselves by gender, despite being sexual.
Having no sexual dimorphism (aside from the fact that one sex produces pollen and the other seeds) and no burden of care to their offspring, Grauntians don’t really have any concept of themselves as male or female and, instead, divide themselves by age.
Roughly translated, their five ages are ‘sprout’, ‘sapling’, ‘young growth’, ‘mature growth’ and ‘old growth’.
They’re only perambulatory and sentient for the first four of those stages, old growth trees becoming rooted to the spot and slowly loosing their cognizance.
Unlike most other species, they have shrugged off all attempts to extend their lifespan, tending to see the transition to old growth as something sacred and honourable and not at all with the horror a Human would feel about being told they would slowly loose the ability to move, then speak, then think!
Not really having a way to refer to his species’ age architypes in any language I speak, I’ve resolved to just calling him a ‘him’ and letting translators do what they want with that(!)
Based on his size, this mature growth man was probably already walking about the forests of Graunt at the end of the Upper Palaeolithic!
This will probably be the last opportunity he gets to undertake a voyage like this before he’s compelled to find a sunny spot on Graunt, or another paradiseworld somewhere, and slowly let his awareness fade away.
In his deep, groaning language, he starts “My… name… is… Ro’oo’u’ouu…” creating an unearthly rumbling sound for his name, that I’m definitely not capable of reproducing “… I… am… a… botanist… and… dendrologist… I… am… glad… to… work… with… all… of… you…”
Those three sentences (that I easily could have got through inside of 10 seconds in Japanese) took him nearly a minute to say!
“Thank you, Mr Ro’oo’u’ouu…” I say, not sure if he was actually done speaking but preempting him continuing at that glacial pace with a smile “…I apologise in advance if this is embarrassing but your embassy has sent me a notification that I am required to relay to all present, if that’s alright.”
“It’s… not…” he says.
“Oh. Well…” I start.
“…embarrassing.” he continues.
I leave a pause before I say “OK, so…”
“It’s… the… truth…”
This difference in perceptual temporal resolution is mildly maddening but… I’m sure it’s just as bad for him!
I’m sure he just hears me squeaking along at 100kmph and continually trying to interrupt him while he speaks(!)
I leave a long enough pause that I’m certain the forest Elemental is actually done before I continue “Yes, so, I am obliged to relate to everyone here, including the gardenworlders, that Mr Ro’oo’u’ouu’s cradleworld is a Class 2 paradiseworld. Therefore, as sturdy and physically imposing as he might look to you, his body is extremely fragile and he is liable to be injured if proper restraint is not exercised whenever physical interaction with him is necessary! I repeat; everyone, deathworlder and gardenworlder alike, is to exercise extreme care whenever physical interaction with Mr Ro’oo’u’ouu should be necessary.”
I allow a rare, stern tone to creep into my voice that hasn’t been there since the primary way I was addressed was ‘Commander’, just to hammer home that I’m really not fucking around about this!
That man’s body density is so low that a Human could punch clear through one of his legs without really even trying all that much!
The mock punch you’d throw thinking you were making fun of the person telling you to be gentle would bury itself up to the wrist!
As striking as the image of Humans fighting an army of Ents might be, the reality is that the Grauntians had a species wide exemption from service throughout the War, since even the GU recognised how little tactical value they held, being as delicate as they are!
Satisfied that I have suitably impressed the point onto all present, I continue “Alright then… Dr Albert ‘Theseus’ Hardwick?”
A tired looking brown haired man, in his fifties (looking like it’s been a while since he last went through regen) and wearing a simple brown suit, stands, making his way to the stage.
He looks like he, long ago, stopped caring about anything like looking cool or stylish but, ironically, his exuded ‘I don’t care what you think of my ugly suit, my average height, my less than impressive physique, the lines on my face or my eyebags’ attitude ends up working for him quite well(!)
“Hello. My name is Dr Hardwick. I’ll be the economic analyst for this expedition. It will be my job to assess the mechanisms of this new species’ economy and, ultimately, what things of value they may be able to provide to galactic markets and what things they may, in turn, value to trade for. I expect I will be cross consulting with all of you at some point, as economics has a habit of rearing its ugly head in the places no one wants or expects it to. Thank you.” he almost recites, with an exhausted demeanour that says ‘you may not like me or what I do but I’m here and I don’t particularly care one way or another’.
I wouldn’t exactly say he was ‘curt’… to me, that implies some irritation…
No, it was more like ‘done’… ‘checked out’, ‘going through the motions’.
“Thank you, Dr Hardwick…” I smile, pretending I haven’t noticed his not exactly polite manner “…Could I ask Dr Vbaa’ar ‘Lamb’ Taan to introduce himself next?”
The man that stands, despite his ovine appearance, is not an Ovis sapiens uplift.
Despite his triple barrel name and Terran academic title, he is no deathworlder, though his most recent stint of post graduate study was undertaken on Earth.
His species are called the Aarba and resemble sheep with sky blue wool.
He wears a long robe, concealing his four legs.
He makes it to the podium, his front legs making him have to stand a little further behind it than the others, and, with the demeanour between a passionate professor about to deliver a lecture and a preacher about to deliver a sermon, begins “I am Dr Taan and I am a professor of philosophy and theology… Now, I want to make clear that my task is not to convert this new species (or any of you) to any religion! Rather, I am here to understand what views on the metaphysical they hold and why… I believe in that regard, I shall have a lot to talk to Dr Túpuson and Dr Morningstar about!… Understanding how environment shapes and is shaped by belief on a hitherto uncontacted deathworld… I can imagine no finer use for my talents… I thank you all.”
He performs a little bow and stands with the others.
“Thank you, Dr Taan…” I smile “…Ẽ. Would you introduce yourself?”
This woman looks like another aquatic. However, her species are mostly land dwelling to the point that, unlike Miraala, no special accommodations needed to be made to her quarters. She just needs a dip in the pool, periodically.
Her beak is not visible, being obscured by six prehensile tentacles. Instead of legs, she has eight perambulatory tentacles beneath her torso.
She has two tentacles that have adapted to function more like arms, with palms that have fingerlike splits at the end, on the sides of her body.
“Music…” she starts “…is very important to my people, the Ĕēȇè … I hope to document the musical stylings this species possesses as this expeditions ethnomusicologist.”
Another short and sweet one.
I can see the way Yasmin perked up with excitement over this woman’s language with a single phoneme and 38 tones! I’m guessing the cephalopodan woman will be cornered and bullied into a linguistics session at some point(!)
“Thank you, Ẽ…” I say, not sure whether my quavering tone on her name is correct, since she didn’t actually say it “…Commadore Yakchutt, could I… Oh… perfect, yes, come on up.”
The man, whose species doesn’t closely resemble any Terran species or mythical creature I’m aware of, though maybe with notes of crocodile in his scaliness and hippopotamus in his thick build, stood up before I was done saying his name.
He stands at the podium, his expression grim, and starts “Terrans… My name is [Commadore] Yakchutt, of the Ulat people… I fought your kind in the War… and have spent more than [30 years] regretting it… I’m not asking your forgiveness… but I’m hoping that my part in this expedition will be something like… an atonement… My task will be the assessment of the Naval defence of this planet from any outside threats. I hope to confer frequently with my opposite number from the Terran Military here…” he gestures to Xon “…in developing a rock solid plan for how to keep these people safe while they are [finding their feet].”
With that, the Navyman steps away from the stand, surprising me with the abruptness of the end of his speech.
Recovering quickly, I return to the podium and say “Err… Finally, the stars of the show, could I ask Ambassador Lhamo ‘Crane’ Yeshe and Ambassador Ngngomg Ong to come to the stage.”
The pair who stand are a Tibetan woman from Gangsri Gsar (who smiles with serenity that makes me absolutely certain her wedding dress must have been blue) and a tall, Gollogng man who’s extremely traditionally handsome (if you can get over the blue skin, lack of a nose and the, far too large, orange and veiny eyes that look as if they have no pupils).
This is the pair who’ll (if all goes well) remain on the planet, after we return.
With them, our crew complement is complete!
Next stop, AG10790263b!