In the Sun's Orbit, Part 2
Kikkizit spent the trip studying. It was something they were used to, of course, but it felt a little like their days as a grub in college--the names of the various ranks one journeyed through towards graduation was far more dignified than that, but everyone divided them out into names ranging from insulting to haughty--studying desperately to advance to the next rank, while trying to run a band. He'd succeeded in the first while failing in the second, but that was life, sometimes.
Kikkizit studied the political parties, or what was known of them, the culture, everything he could get his hands on while mingling with the crew, watching them go about their works. A quick break to study hyperdrives after a whim took them down that road, and he was back to Sol.
Despite being surrounded by crew frequently enough, it was very lonely, the study of the information, and all of the VI programs in the world couldn't make it less desperate. Gazinitah needed all of the help they could get, and Sol was one of the two powers that had reached out thus far. And considering the nature of the other one, Kikkizit was glad that this was the choice. And so they'd pace and think and stew and study, and the hours and days would pass like wind through a canyon, leaving little behind.
Then the ship had exited, hours and hours out from Sol, from Earth itself. Kikkizit was in the cabin at the time, but he'd set up a holo-screen so that he could see the view from the cameras. Satellites surrounded it, and a moon was currently in view, half-covered with stations, though there were parts that were cleared for historical sites, protected by law. Moon landings, mostly. The Xvorzit had not had a similar obsession with their own moon, but they had eventually reached it, way back when, and stepped upon its surface. It hadn't seemed anything special then, considering they'd already worked out satellites and space hab-domes first, but like the wilderness and ancient monuments of Earth, parts of the moon were yet preserved for future generations, despite the heavy population that much of the solar system as well as the others involved, could sustain.
Of course, to a Xvorzit, it wasn't crowded at all. Ships plied this area, and when they checked the list merely of those within view, Kikkizit whistled. It was busy, the list scrolling down and down and down and filling dozens of pages. Every day, Sol got the sort of traffic that some places would have dreamed of getting in a week. The ship approached Sol's orbit, and was hailed. Kikkizit rubbed his arms together, stamping his feet one by one to stretch them, as they turned to get dressed. A tall dark hat went upon their head, in a fashion that was several years old. The hat held nanofibers that allowed it to rework itself into several forms, serving as umbrella, rain-catcher, and a whole host of features as if someone was truly going to be stuck in the wilderness or without anything other than that hat. It was also apparently, as they'd read, part of a 'Neo-Retrovision' movement, some sort of something out of a game, wherein everyone went around wearing bits and pieces of old-fashioned clothing. They wore a long shirt of a material that, on command, clung tightly to their body, a jacket over that, and left their legs free after making sure they were properly dressed.
Ultimately they were going for a basic first meeting, after all, not a direct meeting. The schedule had said that he and a representative of the Prime Minister would set a series of topics and issues to discuss, sounding out what exactly would be on the table. It would be a week, and likely far more, of negotiations, so at this early stage it would be as much making sure they each had an idea of where the discussion would go.
Or so the advice Kikkizit had been fervently reading had said. They watched as the ship continued, calculations running at the bottom of the screen. For of course, the planet itself was moving at incredible speed, as was the large space-station rotating around it, so it required timing and course correction to make sure to hit it on the first pass, docking right onto it. Kikkizit knew that the computers handled most of it, with the Captains primarily--for a non-combat scenario such as this where most of the factors were known and entirely predictable--picking one of several movement plans based on fuel use and how close one wanted to pass to one ship or another. They watched, patiently, shifting their limbs back and forth, thinking.
The party now in power was in charge by a plurality and by a deft series of alliances, but its numbers were very strong, apparently, and it had something close to a mandate for its internal reforms of the state structure in order to reduce calcification and shift budgets around, as well as a more economically active and outward focus. Or so the package said. At the moment it all seemed a bit nebulous, since Kikkizit knew that many of the worst abuses on Gazinitah had come in the name of 'reforming the governmental bureaucratic weaknesses' and military spending was something the PLK was divided on and careful to hedge about, electorally.
Ankit Mutumbo, on the other hand, was a rather known element. The nephew of a famous naval Captain of a reputation that apparently had spread far and wide, he was a paunchy man with dark red-black skin, close-cropped hair, entering--and there they had to be told--his fifth decade alive in good health despite the sturdiness of his frame. It was hard to read a lot from human expressions, they were so broad, almost comically so, a lot like missing the trees for the forest fire. Huge smiles, strange contortions, it was all something that Kikkizit had to adjust for.
Xvorzit subtleties came in the head-wings, the position of their arms and their bodies, and the many, many ways they could alter their voice or way of speech to entirely alter what was being said. Humans had that, Kikkizit known: they'd done studies on that sort of thing back in their 'discovering democracy and disguising it as 'studying foreign policy' days.' But...well, it was nothing to think on, and they were well aware of how much Xvorzith mannerisms could baffle humans.
The ship approached the station, a vast thing, glittering in the darkness of the void, lights everywhere. A dock that could hold a dozen ships attached to a series of huge nodes, entire restaurants and entertainment centers clustered in the limited space, pit-stops on an inter-system trip. It was nearly full as the ship slid into magnetic docking, experiencing the slightest hiccup and then stopping. Or not stopping, since the station was orbiting the planet, but relative to Kikkizit's view, which is what really mattered in terms of physical impact, they stopped.
Kikkizit let out a breath and stepped forward. Keep the negotiations simple, don't act too proud, be aware that one group had the power and another didn't...Kikkizit reminded themselves as they walked out, passing the crew-members, stopping several times to talk to them, the chitter-chatter that eased the minds of most Xvorzit. It was a proven psychological factor, along with presence of other Xvorzit, at least in a majority of cases.
The smooth glide of word upon word, talking about interests and how well the journey had gone and where Nizit was going to go for dinner and whether they'd try any of the strange human foods, or even the more familiar human non-foods that were sometimes served as a replacement. Human worms and grubs were alright, but they just weren't very filling--and yet Nizit was a gourmet, and wanted to see whether the variety of smoked parasites, leeches and worms that the humans had to offer (those few humans who plied the Xvorzit dietary trade) were as good as rumored, but was torn as to whether they should instead try the foods humans called good, spiced curries and rice-noodles, vat-grown meat, vegetables, or the wide array of past and present human cuisines.
They got rather sidetracked telling Nizit what they knew about human 'spagetti' and the history of flat-breads and how that related to a gourmet 'pizza' place that was apparently popular. Nizit said, "Well, perhaps I'll go there...do you think they cater to Xvorzit? I have been told about several types of prey that would be interesting to try, and a friend of mine raved about a custom pizza they made of 'fried porcine, pineapple, tapeworm, seared, and an uncooked dead spider of...'" they paused and glanced at their data-set, "'Night sky spouse who has lost their spouse' variety. Do you think if I asked they'd make one for me?"
Kikkizit could picture it in their head, and could only say, "Well, it wouldn't hurt anything to ask, the worst they can say is no."
With that, they departed, heading for the gang-blank and then down it, to find that there was a tall human in a security officer's light-armor, head shaved.
"Are you Professor Kee-kuh-zeet?" the man asked, frowning as he stumbled over the name.
"I am," they churred, and it translated the words into a vaguely masculine human voice, "And you are?"
"I'm here to escort you, nothing more. It is a pleasure to meet you, however," they said absently, a little gruffly, their face oddly blank.
"Oh? I've studied some about this station, what do you know about it?" The professor looked around the dock at the others coming and going, ships letting passengers go as they must, often for hours-long stops before the next leg out to, say, Saturn for sight-seeing. "It seems an interesting choice for venues, do--"
"One question at a time," the man said, as they turned and began moving towards one of the gateways. The architecture was odd, a bit too open at points, cramped in at others, and very white, nothing like the darker colors often preferred by Xvorzit--little cultural differences like that could become quite noticeable. As could absences. The smell of Xvorzit was subtle and hard to describe, but once it and the sounds and presence was absent one tended to feel very lonely. There was safety in numbers, after all. And humans smelled...odd. Hairy and sweaty and a little like meat, and they looked rather like a number of predators and hairless versions of the monsters that had haunted the older epics. But for all that they could be kind, their governments were fascinating, their culture magnificently varied, their history both strange and familiar at the same time, and they'd befriended plenty of humans before. Even if this one did smell strangely of spice, sweat, and chemicals.
Charming the Guide--1d100+29=64, alright!
The Xvorzith reaction to stress or uncertainty was to talk and make friends, at least that was their first response. Unless it was attacking them, of course. And so they began to chatter, asking, "I hope I haven't detained anyone I was advising someone who was asking what to eat and they mentioned a pizza…" the translator paused for a moment and finally decided on, "Joint. Mama Frezelos?"
"Wait, Xvorzit eat pizza?"
"Well yes, I've had a recreation of it," with Xvorzit ingredients, that is, "Once or twice, and it is certainly very...gnarly and interesting." The translator spent more than a few moments trying to find out the right word to say, and gnarly was honestly just a guess using old slang literally centuries out of date.
The man laughed and they began to talk about pizza, and from there it snowballed until the man revealed that he was a middle-child who felt jealous of his older brother and younger sister and had quit college to marry a spacer who had gotten involved with piracy, only for the man to get arrested leaving them without a path ahead, which had led them to consider police-work, though his mother apparently still nagged him about finding a better job, and it annoyed him that she didn't understand that he took his basic income, he took his salary, and then he didn't ask for more and instead tried to focus on doing what he loved.
It was intensely frustrating to be told that skydiving was too dull and pedestrian a hobby and that his younger sister was an assistant working for the ambassador to the Ilwari, whom he called 'A bunch of furballs', and a number of other revelations came, including several sexual ones that mostly left the Professor having to express sympathy without entirely understanding the hold-up, though the man had a child on the way in an incubator, which led to the professor explaining how the Xvorzit usually had six children minimum in each brood, and so they often raised them in one vast explosion of activity and childcare, and then no more.
Not like humans and their carefully timed and spaced births, or their year by year accumulation of new life.
It was all very enlightening, and before long they had a name, a number, a backup number, a Galactinet profile, a form of social media--an art the Xvorzit had rather mastered faster than humans--and a few others. By the end as they approached another gate, having passed through crowds that almost made Kikkizit feel as if they were in a Xvorzit town. A small, half-deserted town, but that was humans and their strange sense of personal space for one, wasn't it? Something to do with sex and how they did it to both reproduce and have fun, one xeno-anthropologist had suggested when Kikkizit had asked. Or maybe not, who knows! It wasn't Sub-Professor (third rank) Ysehan's specialty, after all.
In Kikkizit stepped, to a huge room, so huge they took a moment to steel themselves before moving towards a glass conference table, the chairs all set out being human-style chairs. Most difficult to sit in comfortably for a four-legged being. A human walked in, short, hair cut short, skin a sort of yellowish color that Kikkizit couldn't quite place, though most Xvorzit were pretty bad at telling humans apart other than the wide variety of their skin color, and sometimes hair color. Male...probably? No lumps on the front of their chest, at least. A closer look confirmed it. Male, well-dressed, likely a functionary.
"Greetings, Professor Kikkizit," the man said in surprisingly fluent words, albeit in a different language than the security guard*, "I hope your trip was enjoyable?"
"Oh, of course--" they begun, as they talked to Junior Minister Miles Fenwick, who was there to try to sound out the ambassador, receive their credentials, and otherwise get the process started.
So, first, set priorities of discussion and focus! (Rank from 1 to 6)
[] Setting up a mutual ambassadorship.
[] Direct economic aid.
[] Trade Deals.
[] Intergalactic Treaty Negotiations.
[] Other forms of help?
[] Galactic Political Information?
With their free-time, when not negotiating or working on negotiations, what do they do (Pick 2)?
[] Where rulers rulered: The White House, Versailles, and other such monuments to now superseded or dysfunctional government are open for tours, and it would no doubt be quite informative on the political history of Sol, at least its more past history. They've always been fascinated with that sort of thing, and it'd make an excellent way to unwind, and might give them a few ideas.
[] Nature in all its splendour: Parks and wilderness have their own beauty, and while Kikkizit isn't the most outgoing and outdoorish, Earth is said to be very beautiful, parts of it still quite wild despite the population levels, and all of it available for round-the-planet tourism. Perhaps it might give Kikkizit something to think about involving parks, wilderness, and land-use.
[] Ancient bones and dank tombs: There are tour packages that instead go to the 'Middle East' and all around the world, to the ancient sites of human battles, life, love and death. It's all very fascinating stuff and is on Kikkizit's bucket-list, if Xvorzit had that concept. Their fascination with ancient forms of Xvorzith culture extends in a similar way to human culture.
[] A Cultural Bonanza: Festivals, plays at the Globe Theatre, food all across the world, dancing, music and singing, this tour package promises to show the full range of Sol culture over a program of a week or three, and is apparently well-regarded. Yet another thing Kikkizit would be eager to do and explore, and it might give them an idea or two...or it might not.
[] Walking the Streets: No need for a guide! Just explore some. Visit cities using a brochure or two for interesting places, walk, shop, see how people live. Where do they go? How often do they recharge their hovercars? What's it like to live on Sol? Something of anthropology, and something of aimless wandering and questioning, it could turn up something, or it might not, but it'd definitely be touristy.
[] You belong in a Museum!: Earth has thousands of fascinating museums, and Kikkizit could choose to go to some of them, whether by category or location. Perhaps they'd learn something important, or perhaps not, either way it'd certainly be a fun enough way to spend a few weeks. (Will vote on what sorts of places you go if this is selected.)
[] The News is where it is: Watch the news. Read the news. Feel the news. Be the news. Absorb all of the political, social, and other news you can find on Sol, about the galaxy at large, about the Solish perspective (at least the perspective of the newscasters) on things. It's not really that relaxing, more a bit of studying, but it could be useful. Or it could teach you nothing except what a Talking Head is. Or something in between. Who knows? This, like all of the options, could lead to something interesting...or nothing much at all.
*****
A/N: And thus the diplomacy begins!
I tried to get across that yes, humans are really, really weird. To a Xvorzit. And that Xvorzit probably come across as weird to a human...however, a translator device that works well can allow that good ol' Xvorzit charm to utterly wrap humans around their little manipulator-digit.
Incidentally, it was not a long walk. Kikkizit got a person to spill their entire life story to a random bug they've never seen before while speaking through a good but slightly buggy translator. Now, even by Xvorzit standards they're unusually good at that sort of thing, but it's not *that* uncommon on the sense that diplomatically focused Xvorzit can similarly pry a person open and rummage around their personal history while somehow coming off as polite and merely curious.
*) As a hint, nobody here is speaking 21st Century English. It's translation conventions all the way down.
