Operation: Warden

DeletedUser28032

They were going home? Jacquen frowned slightly confused, he'd been under the impression that their tour of duty wouldn't be up for at least another month but then again the R&R would be welcome. Although the chances of him actually getting back to his homeworld was slim as very few ships went to the nightworld of Sicarius he'd at least be able to hang out with some of the other nightworld denizens at the Blackout bar, there was a certain girl from Selune he wanted to know better there was just something about the way she twitched her tail that he found irresistible.
Yet despite this something just didn't feel right about this whole situation, raising his hand to attract the Commanders attention, another earth tradition he found strange Jacquen asked what was on his mind "This one wishes to know why the entire platoon is required to present this information?"
 

Deleted User - 819397

Trace had been struck by an unknown term during the commander's briefing. He was about to ask Jacquen what "loved ones" meant when the Sicariun raised his hand and asked a question. It was a valid question too...unless an attack was imminent, the entire troop didn't have to go return the intel. He wanted to ask either Lieutenant Rolf or the Commander about it, but refrained from doing so, as it was clear from the way the commander had said it that it was supposed to be a common term, something they all should know. Asking about it would show a weakness of knowledge, something Trace was determined not to show...the Krikens had a reputation to protect.
 

DeletedUser31931

Frank saw Trace when the commander said the word loved ones. The Kriken looked confused, his head was cocked in a thinking pose and his body posture just said it all, he knew that the Kriken's English wasn't great, his name was "Trace" Frank thought (he tried to remember all the names of all the people in the platoon), and so he resolved to ask what was wrong with seeing their loved ones. Then he heard the Sicariun's question. It was a good one, one he had been about to ask himself when the Sicariun had. Jacquen, was that his name, waited for an answer and Frank did too. He knew that only two or three troops usually had to present the data.
 
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DeletedUser

“Commander, to whom will we present our information?”

"All three of our Councilors will be present." Wentworth answered, splaying his hands wide in a I-don't-know-why kind of gesture before continuing "It doesn't make much sense to me either, Lieutenant. If you recovered data about anyone else, all we'd have to do is tight beam it back home and wait for the commendations, but this is completely different. Vanguard is the highest honor we have in the Collective. Their word is almost law. So naturally, having recovered data that could smear one of such a way is" Wentworth paused for a long moment "a delicate matter."

"This one wishes to know why the entire platoon is required to present this information?"

Glancing over, Wentworth had to keep the revulsion off his face when he laid eyes on the Sicariun, not to mention the Kriken behind him "It's quite simple." he breathed "with the destruction of the original data base we must keep this information tight to our chests, so to speak." Leaning forward in his chair towards ODS 3's crew, as if telling a huge secret, Wentworth whispered "Just between us, I heard a little something about promotion. Keep it under your hats, boys.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do. You drop crews have the best jobs, you don't have to swim in paperwork every waking moment of your lives. I am sorry for the change in protocol, men, please head down to decontamination. Shower, eat, take some time in the recreation bay, sleep. You've certainly earned it." Standing from his chair, Wentworth saluted the team at large, called "You're dismissed!" before turning back to the cluttered desk in the corner.

Saluting back with all the strength he could muster - which wasn't much - Jack turned from the table with the rest of the men and tromped away to the nearest elevator. He took the elevator down to showers and decon. The heavy armor he wore was stuck to his skin by dried sweat, mud and something else that he didn't want to identify, it took both decon assistants to unstick the high tech breastplate, before both he and it were thoroughly scrubbed and decontaminated. The thought of going back to Eroes Prime was horrible. Jack had volunteered specifically to get away from there, from his cold apartment filled with things he'd rather not think about, but still so empty. He hoped that he would be staying in the barracks, entire wards away from that place, there was nothing there anymore.

As he stood there under the faucet that was showering him with warm water, Jack could only feel a sense of foreboding deep in his stomach, along with the ever-present sadness that he kept walled away down there. Lieutenant Rolf had ordered him to his office after decon and Jack was worried about what he'd ask, would talking to his direct superior compromise his combat ready status? That was the only thing that helped him stay sane, as strange and contradictory as that might sound.

But with each drop of water that ran down his mud soaked body, Jack knew the time to see his superior got closer and closer. It was as he stepped from the decon shower and took a towel from a hook nearby that he remembered the wound to his arm. Looking down, the wound wasn't even bad enough to report to the med bay with. Jack scowled at it, and commanded it to get worse, but it didn't.

And so, an hour after being dismissed by Commander Wentworth, Jack stood in front of Rolf Helmfrid's desk. His armor gone, he wore the standard issue shirt and pants of a crewman, dark blue and black, the Collective symbol emblazoned over the heart. Jack saluted his Lieutenant "Serviceman Carlyle reporting, sir."
 

Deleted User - 819397

Trace listened to the rest of the briefing impassively, then saluted and left with the rest of the crew. He was hungry, but he remembered that his direct superior back home had told him to call via EC as soon as he was able. He therefore went to an empty room and sent the call. The room was a precaution...all military calls were spoken in the military version of the Kriken language, which shared no commonalities with the one all Krikens knew. The Empire had shared the knowledge of their standard language with the Collective as one of their good faith gestures, but they had not done so with the military form. That was for the Kriken Military alone.

The call was accepted, and a hologram of his superior appeared in front of him. A standard looking Kriken...although blue, unlike Trace's red. He too had his visor on, a sign that he was on duty. Trace saluted, a much more earnest gesture than when he had done so for the human commander. "You wanted to talk to me, Sir?" he asked, his mouth clicking much more naturally now that he was speaking a language that was made for him.

His superior nodded. "I have momentous news, Trace*." he responded. "The Emperor has succumbed to the illness he has been fighting for the past twelve years. He is gone."

Trace staggered slightly...the Emperor...dead...it was too much to fathom.

"As I'm sure you're aware, the process of obtaining a new God-Emperor is a debate between the Planetary Commanders as to who should replace him...these debates are often...violent. Therefore, the Planetary Commanders need to elect replacements before the proceedings start, in case of death, or, a safer option, that PC becomes the new Emperor. As the Planetary Commander of Vho, I need to do that. I have, after much consideration, decided that you are the best choice should one of the aforementioned things happen to me."

"M...Me, my Commander? Surely not. I wasn't a District Commander for more than a year before I got shunted over to the PC."

"Ah, but you forget that I trained you myself, unlike most of the other DCs of Vho at the moment. You may be young, still a teenager by human standards, but you are unquestionably bright, and have the loyal duty to your Empire that a PC needs. It's not a given that you'll even need to take my place. Either way, I, or another PC, will contact you should it become necessary. Until then, may the God that infuses our Emperors with their wisdom and might keep you safe."

"And may he provide you the illumination to do what is best for the Empire." Trace finished the standard Kriken farewell. He saluted once more, and the figure disappeared.
 

DeletedUser31931

Frank sighed as they were dismissed. He headed over to Decon and after what felt like ages they said he could go. He headed straight to the showers where he scrubbed himself down and shampooed his hair to try and get rid of the blood that had gotten under his helmet. When it was all finally gone he came out the showers and grabbed his weapons from where he'd put them checking no-one had tampered with them. He headed back to his room and slid into a pair of combat trousers and a loose fitting T-shirt. He pulled out his for his pistol a holster and attached the holster to his belt. Part of military doctrine was that all soldiers where allowed to wear a handgun whilst off duty. He hadn't been told otherwise and so he kept it on with the feeling that he might just need it. He then headed over to the armoury and handed back his chain-gun. Although he owned all of his weapons (he had bought them with his service money) and so he was allowed to keep them stored in his room he had the armoury look after his chain-gun as it was a high maintenance weapon.
 

DeletedUser13682

Rolf listened to Commander Wentworth's answer to his question, and his added thoughts on the matter of the information they had recovered. Then, Jacquen asked why the entire platoon had to be at the meeting. Commander Wentworth turned to answer him. For half a moment, Rolf fancied he saw something in the commander’s eyes. A shadow of a look given to low creatures like rats and cockroaches. It passed before Rolf could fully register it though, and passed it off as some trick of the light. The commander answered Jacquen’s question. The answer sounded reasonable enough, though not as reasonable as maybe sending a guard for the ones who had the information. But the will of the Councilors be obeyed. Before they were dismissed, Commander Wentworth leaned close to the platoon and intimated that he believed everyone involved would get promotions. For a moment, Rolf thought of being promoted to corvette captain, which for him, meant command of a company, not a corvette, or any other type of ship. Those thoughts were driven away as Commander Wentworth ordered them dismissed. Rolf stood up to attention, and sharply saluted Commander Wentworth in an old German salute, with his fingertips on the centre of his helmet, palm facing outwards. When his salute was returned, and the official order of dismissed was given, Rolf led his platoon out of Commander Wentworth’s office, and dismissed them to do as they please until the next day.

Rolf first headed to the regimental birthing compartment, to where he slept, a small room set next to the main compartment, where all the regiment platoon leaders slept, and put away the key he had recovered. Next, he went to the showering area, where his armour was removed and stored with his weapons, waiting for him to retrieve them after his shower. After storing his underclothes away, Rolf entered the officers’ showers, and quickly cleaned off. After he was cleaned, Rolf put on his shipboard uniform, a white tshirt with his regiment emblem under a blue single breasted tunic with silver buttons, rank insignia on the shoulders, equipment belt with brace over left shoulder and crossing the chest, blue trousers, black riding boots ending half calf, black gloves ending just above the wrist, and a cap based off the M43, with the Collective insignia in the centre of it. Attached to Rolf’s equipment belt was his pistol and groβe Messer. Around his neck was his Order of the Black Eagle badge

After getting dressed, Rolf brought his armour and his carbine to his office. The office was one of three, in a compartment that was the size of a regimental office, but divided into four. The three biggest spaces were built into three small offices for the platoon leaders, with the fourth part being a hallway from the hatch going past all three offices. Rolf’s space wasn’t very big, but it was big enough to store his desk, armour, weapons, supplies to clean armour and weapons, a few chairs, and a decanter of apple juice. It would be some liquor were it not for the shipboard rules. After setting his weapons and armour on their stands, awaiting to be cleaned, Rolf sat down and typed his after action report. It wasn’t a very long one, thankfully, and after 20 minutes he had sent it to the regimental commander. After pouring himself a glass of juice, Rolf grabbed his carbine, disassembled it, putting the parts onto a mat he had laid out on his desk, and began to clean. About ten minutes later, while Rolf was cleaning a prism, he found himself disturbed by Carlyle. Rolf had forgotten about the meeting he had arranged with Carlyle. Rolf put down the prism and saluted Carlyle back. “Sit down, Jack,” Rolf said, as he sat back down. “Would you like a glass of apple juice? I’d offer whiskey or gin, but you know shipboard rules.” Rolf scooted the mat full of carbine parts aside, and spoke again. If I remember correctly, we were talking on ODS 3, about mourning. I wrongly believed you were mourning for our fallen comrades. If you feel comfortable about it, I’d like to talk to you about who or what you’re really mourning. I want to help if I can.”
 

DeletedUser

“Sit down, Jack. Would you like a glass of apple juice? I’d offer whiskey or gin, but you know shipboard rules. If I remember correctly, we were talking on ODS 3, about mourning. I wrongly believed you were mourning for our fallen comrades. If you feel comfortable about it, I’d like to talk to you about who or what you’re really mourning. I want to help if I can.”

Sitting in the - to his surprise - relatively comfortable chair in front of his Lieutenant's desk Jack stared blankly at Rolf, not really registering the question. Thirty seconds passed before he blinked suddenly and it all came back to him. Jack's Combat Ready Status jumped to the front of his mind, if he showed the least bit of psychological instability he would be taken off the crews, maybe even sent to some hospital somewhere, where he'd sit around with a bunch of nuts and watch all day as they drew hand turkeys and argued about who was the reincarnation of Jesus Christ. His eyes searched back and forth around the room in a panic, desperately looking for a way out. The Combat Crews were his only chance, the only thing keeping him from walking into the airlock and closing it behind him. If that was taken from him, Jack didn't know what he would do, how he would react.

Knowing that he had to say something to his superior, Jack knew saying anything was a mistake. "I was overcome with emotion, I was wounded, tired from a hard fight and was mostly out of my head." Jack lied easily and hoped his commanding officer would accept it.
 

DeletedUser31931

Having dropped his weapon off Frank headed to Trace's quarters. He knocked on the door of Trace's quarters and waited to see if he was in.
 

DeletedUser13682

Rolf patiently waited as Jack sat down, and didn’t answer. For half a minute, the room was silent, save for the sounds found aboard a ship of that class. Finally, after what seemed to Rolf to be much internal thinking, practically blurted out an answer. It appeared Jack was suffering from combat fatigue at the time, and now appeared to feel better. Maybe it was just a temporary thing, but if it was still in Jack, it could be bad next time they went into combat. “You seem alright now, but as a precaution, I think you should see the ship psychiatrist, just to make sure you’re still not suffering from combat fatigue. If you don’t have anything more to say, then you may go do as you please for the night. I think some of the regiment is throwing a party in third platoon’s birthing compartment. I might head there myself, to make sure there aren’t any contraband drinks around."
 

Deleted User - 819397

Trace slowly made his way from the abandoned room back to his own personal quarters, having no inclination to socialize or to eat. Such was the extent of his shock over what had just transpired. He had been a District Commander, or DC, for about three years. He had risen to the highest level of non-command incredibly rapidly, something that didn't go unnoticed. Some of the other DCs thought he was becoming too powerful, too fast, so when the time for promotion came again, they shunted him to Vho.

Vho was a planet covered in ice and snow. It had many tall mountains, and wasn't very pleasant. The spiritual Vhozon lived there, and they were one of the earliest conquests by the Kriken Empire back in their aggressive days. The Vhozons had immediately surrendered, something that should have put them worse than scum in the Krikens' eyes. However, they were so intrigued by what the Vhozon called "Religion" (in their language, of course) that they treated them incredibly well. This was originally to observe them before taking the power for themselves, but it turned out this Religion wasn't a weapon of any kind. However, by the time this realization happened, The Emperor at the time declared that the Vhozon had earned enough trust to continue the level of care they received. From a military standpoint, Vho had nothing to offer, as the Vhozon had always been entirely peaceful creatures, and the planet had no resources worth taking. Kriken military that got put on Vho were those considered "dangerous" by the higher-ups for some reason. Some were mentally insane, others, like Trace, rose through the ranks too far, too fast. Only the Planetary Commander, or PC, of Vho had any true power...the rest were stuck. In appointing Trace as his successor should the conditions require it, the PC had not only acknowledged Trace's skill as a leader (he had whipped his sorry group of soldiers into shape before being sent to The Collective) but also giving him a way out of the dishonorable life he had ahead of him. Should the chance come, he'd gladly take it.

He was shaken out of his musing by noticing one of the humans standing outside his door. "Yes?" he clicked, his tone not warm or inviting, but not entirely dismissive either. Despite being a human, he'd fought along side Trace, so that earned a little respect.
 

DeletedUser

"I think not, sir, I haven't been to a party since my bachel-" Jack caught himself before he said the rest. Carlyle nodded curtly to his Lieutenant, stood from the chair and looked back at his lieutenant "I'll see if the head shrinker will see me." Jack lied as he turned and made his way out of the room.

The last party Jack had been to had been close to three years ago, when a group of their closest friends had taken Jack to a nightclub in celebration of his pending "Partnership" -- as the powers-that-be continued to call it. There had been dancing and drinking and lots of, entertainers. Jack didn't like himself when he drank, before he'd met her he spent most of his free time in the bottom of a bottle, trying to forget all the bad that had happened in his life, trying to forget about his father's death, his step father's cold shoulder and his mother's desperate peace-making.

Just outside of the office, Jack put a hand on the bulkhead and closed his eyes, resting his head on his arm as all the memories came back to him. This entire mess just made him want to cry. How cruel can the Universe be? He signed up for this tour specifically to get away from Eroes Prime, and that recently cold and empty apartment he shared with her for so long. Now they were going back, and he'd have to relive every painful little detail.

Work. Jack had to work, to take his mind off this, otherwise he would break down and make a scene right outside his superior officer's quarters. Taking a steadying breath, Jack ran a hand through his short hair and made his way to the armory. Intending to lose himself in the intricate work of dismantling The Rampart and cleaning every little piece, then doing the same to his pistol, and any other weapon he could find, then looking for armor that needed work. Anything to keep him out of his head, anything to keep his EC from reminding him.
 

DeletedUser31931

The Kriken walked down the corridor and said "Yes?" In a tone which was asking why was he there. "Hello," Frank said "I'm just coming round to ask if you're ok. When the commander said we were heading back to Eroes Prime and our loved ones you looked confused. You seem lost, has something happened? I know that some Krikens are not the best at English so maybe if you're confused on anything I can help. I've met a couple of Krikens before so I'm used to their ways. I got stranded on Vho at one point in my life and a quite helpful Kriken got my ship fixed and sent me on my way."
 
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Deleted User - 819397

(Just a clarification Trace didn't open his door. He was returning from his chat with the PC and saw you outside his door as he returned to his quarters. Just to get the demographics straight :) )

Trace didn't say anything for a moment. He'd expected several things, but coming to check up on him was not on the list. Even though the Kriken military didn't have anyone "checking up" on another person, he was familiar with the term...he'd been taught it right before being shipped here, as it was a common phrase he'd have to know to be successful in The Collective. It took him a moment to realize that the human was genuinely concerned for him, another moment of revelation. The only thing a Kriken knew how to be concerned about was how they were performing in the military...being concerned about a person was a foreign concept to him. He couldn't grasp the implications, but now wasn't the time to wonder about that.

"It's nothing," Trace clicked finally. "I don't know the term 'loved ones', that's all." He said this dismissively, as if it wasn't a big deal. For him, it truly wasn't. In his mind he knew all he needed to about English, because his superiors had told him that was all he had to know. They knew what was best, else they wouldn't be that high up in the military.
 

DeletedUser28032

Walking from out of the decontamination showers, Jacquen tied the long unruly tresses of his hair into a loose ponytail before making his way down the corridor to where his quarters lay. He was dressed in his navy blue ships uniform with his rank and insignia on the sleeve of his tunic, the only difference between his uniform and anybody else’s were the pair of badges pinned to his collar, one denoting him as Recon and the other a Sicariun service badge; a novel idea thought up by the PCC for the varying races within its military, the other difference of course was the lack of boots upon his feet not because they wouldn't fit but simply because like all other Sicariun's, Jacquen simply didn't like them.
With his combat gear and weaponry still slung over his shoulder Jacquen made a quick detour to his quarters pushing the door release with his elbow before carefully placing the items upon the floor just inside the door.
The room was pitch dark despite the motion sensor blinking as he entered the room, it had taken maintenance a long time to take the hint that he didn't wish them to replace the bulbs and it was only after a friendly visit to the chief at the dead of night that he finally took the hint.
A flash of movement within the darkness suddenly caught his attention, carefully removing the contacts from his eyes Jacquen stepped silently into the centre of the tiny room "This one knows you are here...don't make this one come and find you" he calls into the room quietly his eyes constantly searching his cramped living area.
Suddenly there’s another flash of movement causing Jacquen to whirl round with lightning fast reflexes a smile spreading across his face as catches and lifts the small black cat to his chest "There you are Frankenstein...this one has missed you" the cat purrs loudly as the Sicariun scratches under his chin before setting him down and retrieving a tin of tuna from out of a cupboard, the cat rubbing itself against his legs as he emptied the tin into a small plastic bowl.
The cat was blatantly against ships policy but he’d gotten the cat anyway, smuggling him aboard whilst he was still a kitten and hiding him within his room and feeding him on scraps from the kitchen. He knew that if the cat was ever discovered then both he and Frankenstein would be in serious trouble but for as far as Jacquen was concerned Frankenstein was his only true companion aboard this ship.

After spending a little time within his quarters Jacquen gathered his things and continued on his way to the armoury hoping to complete some much needed maintenance and modification upon his equipment whilst the workshop was empty, the rest of the crew would be at the party going on tonight of which he was pretty sure he wasn’t invited to.
However upon entering the oily workshop at the back of the armoury Jacquen discovered that he wasn’t alone after all as he spots the human who’d nodded to him back on the planet. “This one see’s you Daywalker” Jacquen says with a smile as he places his gear onto a metal bench with a loud clunk.
Helping himself to a couple of tools he starts looking over his armour certain that he’d felt something come loose during the mission.
With only the sound of himself and the human working Jacquen breaks the silence by asking what he felt was an obvious question “So Daywalker this one knows whys he’s not with the others…but how come you are here also?”
 

DeletedUser13682

“I’ll see you at the party, then?” But Jack was already gone. Oh well, Rolf would talk to Jack about it at the party. Speaking of which, he should get his weapons and armour cleaned up so they wouldn’t sit around collecting rust. Rolf scooted the mat back to its original place, picked up the prism he was cleaning, and started polishing it again. About an hour later, Rolf had cleaned up everything to an acceptable level of cleanliness. Just as Rolf was getting ready to leave, he realized something. He should inform Ilse of his return. But just as Rolf was getting ready to type up his message, a new idea came to him. A surprise! He would make a surprise of it! After landing at Danzig, Rolf would buy a bouquet of flowers, chocolate, and wine, and show up at the front door, unannounced. What happened next depended on her reaction. It was highly doubtful Ilse would be angry, for more than a minute, that is, so Rolf felt that this new idea was the better of the two. Satisfied, Rolf turned off the screen, cutting its access from his EC, and bent down to open a drawer on his desk. He retrieved his blue trench coat from the drawer, and slipped it on as he closed his door, the lights automatically turning off, and the door locking by itself, two modern conveniences Rolf allowed himself.

Rolf walked down the corridors of the Void Warden, looking through the hatches that had been left open. The officer’s mess was still open, and a few sublieutenants were sitting at a table, playing poker for cigarettes. A couple of enlisted talking about something in their birthing compartment, somebody making or repairing something in a lab. Eventually, Rolf made it to his destination, the third platoon birthing compartment. The low, subdued sounds of modern electronic dance music came pounding through the thick door. It was going to be loud. Rolf opened the hatch, and for a moment, the music came out full blast and flooded the hallway with its beats and rhythms. Then Rolf closed the hatch again, and the music faded again.
Inside, the soldiers had cleared the center of the room of all furnishings, except for a couple of tables a few officers had set up for gambling, this time with real money. Those who weren’t gambling were either dancing to the music or standing around the edges or sitting on bunks, talking, drinking, or eating. The smell of alcohol was strong. Contraband items were everywhere! Open coolers revealed their illegal contents without a bit of shame, the gamblers weren’t even trying to mask their wrongdoings. Usually, it would be Rolf’s duty, being an officer, to break this up, and report it to the CO. But, there were always exceptions to the rules, and tonight, after a very successful mission, an early return to home, and possible promotions, Rolf decided that tonight was one of those exceptions. He hung his trench coat and cover on a coat rack, grabbed a beer from a cooler, and joined one of the games of poker. Tonight, Rolf was going to have fun, lots of fun.
 

DeletedUser31931

Frank heard the Krikens reply and knew from the sound of his voice that he was hiding something but he decided not to press it. "Oh in that case then, your loved one's are you family, your parents, your wife etc. glad to help. If you need anything else feel free to EC me. Are you coming to the party in the 3rd platoon Birthing compartment? Everyone is invited, especially you guys. I'd like to have you there, I feel more at home with alien's, so to speak, than with my own species. Probably because I grew up around other races and not humans and I've done a lot of diplomatic missions. Did you know I was there at one of the renewals of the Kriken Collective Treaty."
 

Deleted User - 819397

Trace didn't say anything for a moment as he processed the information the human had given him. So humans (and most alien species too, it seemed) had connections to their parents after being born. Family...he'd been taught that word before being shipped here...it meant people related to you beyond your parents...how in the world did they know who those were?? He knew what a wife was, although it was clear that humans put more importance on it than Krikens did. When the Planetary Doctor told you to mate, you found a Kriken of the opposite gender and mated. If something came of that you helped your mate with it for a couple years, then it went off to the military and you resumed your normal life. Odds were you'd never see the mate again. Next time the call to mate came around, you'd do it, almost certainly with a different Kriken, and repeat.

The human continued talking, mentioning a party. Yet another term he'd been taught before coming here. He'd been taught the meaning, but not why. He knew it was a great deal of mess and noise, and that it was something humans did often, but he saw no point in it. It didn't make the humans better fighters...it truly served no purpose that could be inferred to help the military, so why they did it was beyond Trace.

The human wrapped up by mentioning he'd taken part in the last renewal of the Kriken Collective Treaty. More human nonsense, really. Treaties hadn't been part of the Kriken world until they changed a new leaf. The only way to tell that the Empire had stopped attacking a world was when there were no new battles. Personally, Trace liked this better...a treaty was a piece of paper, easily brushed aside. The ceremony for the renewal...another waste of time. Human fighter ships flying overhead, each race in the Collective there in full dress uniform...the Krikens couldn't fathom why the Collective insisted on it, but they did it to keep them happy.

Realizing he should probably say something, he clicked, "Thank you for the furthering of my knowledge. Our societies are truly different if you know not only your parents, but their parents and family. I have not seen my parents since I was 12 of your earth years old, and since I was the equivalent of 3 years of age, due to our slower aging process, I don't remember them at all. I would not know where to find them. They did their duty to the Empire in having me, and after I left for military training, they would have returned to their normal lives. Almost certainly they haven't seen each other since. Why should I try to find them? As for a wife...after leaving infancy, Krikens age even slower than originally. I have just reached that stage, being your equivalent of 14 years old. I will not be an adult by your standards until I'm 150 earth years. Therefore I have not been told to mate yet. Even if I had, it would be no different from my parents. I'd have mated, raised the child with the mate until it was ready for military training, then gone back to my normal life. I would not see either the child or the mate again, and if I did I would not remember them."

He paused for a moment, then added, "As for this...party...I see no reason to make a large mess and a loud noise without it furthering my military ability, so I believe I shall...pass it by." This last part he said after a pause, having remembered a phrase humans were fond of that he had picked up on his own. He made to move off, but the look on the human's face made it clear he was no longer done on the subject, and he resigned himself to hear him out.
 

DeletedUser31931

Frank listened to the Kriken with interest, he knew that Krikens aged slower than humans but not that slow. Frank smiled when the Kriken gave his definition of a party. As the Kriken finished he spoke. "That's not exactly true, most parties do end up making a large mess but the whole point of a party is to celebrate when something good has happened. It raises troop morale among humans and if we are happier then we are likelier to do better on the battle field as there are a group of hormones in our bodies called Endorphins and when you are happy your body releases these and they improve the performance of your body."
 

Deleted User - 819397

Trace looked at the human with new appreciation. He had no way of telling if his claim to have spent time amongst Krikens was true, but he certainly knew how to hold one's attention. If he hadn't mentioned the benefits of these "endorphins" Trace would have changed tacks to being dismissive. As it was..."These 'endorphins' you speak of...they do sound good. The issue is, I have no idea what the term 'happy' means, so therefore there's no chance of me receiving endorphins...if Krikens have them at all."
 
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