To Boldly Go... (a Starfleet quest)
- Thread starter OneirosTheWriter
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- Sci-Fi
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- Tags
- star trek exploration fully automated luxury gay space communism top level canon (canon) #hashtagcontent all-encompassing space amoeba cardassian boy bands cardassian magical girls darkest bureaucracy debate makes the qm cackle like palpatine hoh is an empire quest it has to be foreign infiltrators more ships ship happens singers delenda est starfleet this is not an empire quest ur waifu is collective?
- Location
- Actually pretty lost
Infector = Invector
How did we not see it
Lying, especially to much of a solar system or more, is expensive - just ask anyone who has to maintain a cloaking device and I'm sure they'll tell you at length.
The Harmony'll screw up on this at some point, if it is them, and then we'll have a good old fashioned yelling match, er, polite debate with extra phasers where we shake them down for details, reparations and concessions.
In the mean time, treat the plague as it shows up and generally behave like it's a regular mad science disease.
In other words, be the Federation.
omake - How Arsharra N'Gir Became an Asshole - Iron Wolf
In The Furball
"Well, well, well," Mlenn T'Kruul said, slamming through the door of the open-concept office like a storm, "Look at this constellation of utter fuckups. Couldn't go a morning without throwing off my covers and trying to smother me under a thick layer of stupidity."
There was a dead silence as nearly two-dozen staffers and interns stopped in their tracks, a few making furtive eye contact with each other over low cubicles. T'Kruul prowled slowly forward, eyes darting to each Caitian face as if to bore straight through it. His fur was chestnut-brown once, but now was shot through with grey. He was the regional director for the Quiet Progress Union in one of the most populous regions on Cait, and he was pissed.
"Look at you all, staring at me like a bunch of gelatinous blobs of waste. You're little pea-brains can't even remotely comprehent what I'm talking about, can they?"
A tall, slim Caitian with reddish-brown fur raised her hand, "It's the um, commit error in--"
"Ding-ding-fuckin-ding!" T'Kruul screamed, causing several nearby to jump, "Good to know someone here is awake! Three months of ground work, hard doorknocking done by courageous volunteers, and you sheep-brained morons forgot to commit it to the database." He was striding now between cubicles, causing some to flinch away; more experienced staffers just bowed their heads slightly, "So it just sat there until some genius in IT deleted the lot of it to free up some hard drive space, and now it's all gone. But no, that's just the start of the flaming bag of of shit you idiot interns have dropped on my doorstep this fine fucking morning. Apparently one of you can't-- You know what? Let's have a practical example."
T'Kruul turned sharply, then dropped down in front of a wide-eyed Caitain, sat in a chair. "Hey," T'Kruul said, his voice suddenly light and happy, "Good morning. Nirishi, right?"
"Yes, yes sir."
"Ah, Nirishi, there's no need for that 'sir' thing right now." T'Kruul chuckled, "How was your weekend? Good? See your family, maybe a special someone?"
Nirishi relaxed slightly, "We uh, some friends of mine, we went Lake N'Agan. Had a really good time, goofing off, you know?"
"That is great to hear," T'Kruul said, his voice languid but his tail thrashing, "Now," he said, rising to his feet, "Does everyone see that? I know you all think I'm a big bad boogyman, who yells at grandmas and pushes veterans into traffic. And I know some of you want to imitate me! But I can turn it off, do you see? Nirishi, do you see?"
"Yes--"
"No you don't you idiot!" T'Kruul sprang one foot out to kick Nirishi's chair backwards into the desk, the smaller Caitian flinching with the impact, "You fucking lost us five volunteers doing shit like this! They called me to complain personally because you had to try and play Mr. Big Tail out there, screaming about the shit-storm that you're in to some twelve-year-old because she had the gall to forget about asking for a donation. You get well-compensated to put up with the likes of me, Mr. Nifuckity, but those beautiful, idiot volunteers we depend on don't. You should bless them -- they still have beliefs and values and hope. They haven't rotted into cynical husks like the lot of us.
"So learn to keep your spittle-spewing mouth closed when it needs to. You can do so while you fill out some thank you cards to our intrepid front-line workers -- there's about a thousand of them, so I'd get cracking. And if you fuck up any of the candidate's signatures I will know, so no half-assing."
Nirishi nodded, wide-eyed. "Now we're getting somewhere!" T'Kruul responded, "They're waiting in the basement, so hop to it." Nirishi sprung from his chair and scurried out of the room as T'Kruul rose, "The rest of you lot, I'm going to sit in my office now and pump out the sewer blockage you threw at me so please, don't cause any more problems while I'm in there. I know most of you just had your baby teeth fall out and maybe have gotten around to figuring out how not to wet the bed, but try not to fuck your actual job, okay?" T'Kruul gave the silent room a smile entirely devoid of mirth, "Good." He stalked to one of the offices ringing the open central area and slammed the door. The room immediately burst into activity, Caitains moving and scrambling, tablets in hand.
T'Kruul slid into his seat behind his desk and, with the press of a button, polarized the windows looking in. He looked at his message inbox to see if any new brushfires had sprung up in the twenty minutes it'd taken him to get to the office. His comm device buzzed with an arrhythmic heartbeat of incoming messages. Queries from everyone. No doubt about how to do the most basic part of their jobs.
There was a knock at his door. "Oh for the love of--!" He shouted, "Get in here then!"
The wooden door split halfway down the middle, both halves smoothly sliding open to reveal a dark-furred Caitain woman, her ears colored black with little tufts of hair, eyes a piercing green. She had a mug in one hand, a tablet in the other. "Sorry. I've got our latest outreach reports here, Mlenn."
"Well don't just stand there in the doorway, Tufty," said Mlenn, the Caitian woman twitching one of her ears, "and show me them." 'Tufty' quickly walked over, the door shutting behind her, "All of you out there need some hustle. Standing in the doorway wasting more of my precious time. I've seen corpses on the side of the road move faster than you lot."
Tufty didn't say anything, just quirked her eyebrow.
"Are you smirking at me?" He said, not even bothering to glance away from the report, "Do you think this is some sort of comedy hour?" He tossed the tablet dismissively onto the table. "You're lucky that you're apparently the only intern in this bloody place that hasn't managed to create a crisis this morning or I'd rip you lip from bloody limb and parade it through the office."
"No." Tufty replied, "I... worked with a Tellarite once. He would be impressed at the effortlessness you manage to drop insults and how willingly you play hardball." She nodded down at the tablet, "But more importantly, I need to know if we can get more in the budget for signage. The Neo-Unionists were busy last night putting up signs in all the districts. We're going to need more if we want people to think we're hustling and not wasting the resources donated to us."
"Bloody idiots," T'Kruul said, grabbing his own tablet, "We spend two and a half years delivering policy right to their door, and what do a bunch of the imbeciles vote for? Who can put more cheap plastic and metal and wood up along the roadways. Disgusting waste of our time if you ask me, after we just lost five volunteers to that idiot out there." He pressed his thumb to the tablet to authorized funds, "Now, you liking my insults either means you're a kiss-ass or a psychopath, and you compared me to one of those muddy pig-faces. I'm not sure which one of those things I dislike the most, to be frank."
"I've already corrected Nirishi's mistake," Tufty replied, "I have established a level of rapport with the volunteers he drove away. After a few apologies and assurances, they now work for me. They are motivated and industrious, so I think I am well-covered for personnel as well. As for your insults," she shrugged, "I can't help but admire them because I think it's very motivational. You know it's good to turn it off in public and build up your image, but then use it to light a fire under people like Nirishi." She held out the mug, "It motivated me enough to find out how you like Jonabur extract."
"So a kiss-ass, then." T'Kruul said his eyes narrowing even as he took the mug, "If you're to be believed, you unfucked Nirishi's debacle -- to some degree anyways -- and you've managed not to make my blood pressure rise today, so I'll spare you the reaming." He glanced up, "You're on my sensors now though -- don't look so pleased, that just means you'll get a pin-point accurate demolishing if you ever cross me. So, right then, what's your actual name, Tufty?"
The Caitian smiled, "It's M'ona Krisil."
There was another knock at the door. "Oh for shit's sake! I can only deal with one of you idiots at once. In!" The door sprung open, the caitian on the other side the reddish-brown furred woman who'd spoken up when he'd first walked in. She looked twenty-something and ragged, her fur haphazardly groomed, a stylus for a tablet tucked behind one ear, her clothes slightly twisted and wrinkled. Next to the composed, well-dressed Krisil, the newcomer looked like she'd come straight out of a dumpster.
"What do you want, Dopey?" The Caitian blinked, "Well are you a Caitian or just some livestock that wandered in and is now drooling on my carpet? Speak!"
"S-sorry, Mlenn," she replied, "I was getting ready to do some knocking for this morning and I just found out the tablet with my polling kits is… all… gone." She winced slightly as Mlenn's expression darkened, "I don't know what happened to it, I set it down in my aircar and now I can't find it anywhere, I'm sorr--"
"Don't say fucking sorry to me, I don't have time for fucking sorry with this mess now. You just lost the personal data of hundreds of voters and it was probably stolen by some cut-rate juvenile delinquent. If you're lucky the bastard crashed into a fucking bog and will be lost for all time. I'd send flowers of thanks to his grieving family if that was the case." He slammed a hand on the table, making the Caitian jump, "Now I have to whip those lazy claw-cleaners in Data to compile a new one, so thanks for that." He huffed, "Who the hell even are you? Did they send m--"
"Arsharra N'Gir--"
"I didn't actually want you to answer, but good job, now that's some useless information that's stuck in my glob now," he tapped the side of his head, "Big fucking backfire there, because now you can get on the shitlist. Get out of here and go find something useful to do. Maybe go help Nirishi down in the basement where you idiots belong. Out!" He looked at Krisil, "You too, you're taking up the valuable fucking oxygen I need to think."
N'Gir scooted out the door. Krisil simply nodded and walked out, head held high.***
"N'Gir, wait up!" A female voice called out from behind her. N'Gir stopped and tried to keep any sign of irritation out of her body language. Probably failed. Krisil quickly came up beside her, and N'Gir resumed her trudge, "Tough day, huh?"
"You could say that," N'Gir grunted, "You know, there's a time and a place to be rude, but Mlenn is in that place all the time." She stopped at her aircar, fumbling for her keys with one hand, the box precariously balancing in the other.
Krisil leaned against N'Gir's car, "Nah. It's just effective. By taking the initiative, putting you on the back foot, he can push through anything he wants. And then most people are just too riled afterwards to think of anything other than making sure he doesn't flip out again."
"So tactical," N'Gir said, finally having fished her keys out, "Guess your time in the Grand Fleet really rubbed--"
Krisil suddenly lashed out, grabbing the box and tumbling its contents to the parking lot. N'Gir blinked in shock, looking down at the cards spilled on the ground, information scribbled on them, and then up at Krisil.
In her hand was a datarod. N'Gir instantly recognized it as the one with her poll kits on it. She lunged forward but Krisil easily dodged to the side, pushing N'Gir into the car.
"What the hell, M'ona!" N'Gir lunged again but Krisil was faster, and N'Gir's palms sraped pavement as she stumbled.
"You should just give up, Arsharra." Krisil said, "You're a little loper who's stumbled into the jungle, here. You don't have the discipline or the temperament to not get eaten." She tapped the datarod against her head, "This was way too easy to grab from your car."
"We're on the same team, you... idiot child!" N'Gir spat.
"Ooh, finally letting out those claws!" Krisil sneered. Then she crouched down and grabbed N'Gir by her lapels, "We're not on the same team here. We're all in it for ourselves, and that's how the party likes it. Winning or losing just determines the number of titles to be handed out. I undermine you today and ensure you're two steps behind me no matter what happens."
"I'll tell Mlenn," N'Gir said, her vision filled with Krisil's smirking face, and the green eyes that looked so eerily like hers.
"You do that, and I win even more," she replied coolly, "You think Mlenn's going to see that as anything other than you flailing in desperation? You've got no proof." Her mouth was all teeth, all of them bared for N'Gir to see. She laughed suddenly, dropping N'Gir, "You don't even have the nerve to spit in my face. Here's my tip, Arsharra -- get out of this while you can. You're not cut out for this. These tactics always win. There's no fair playing field here." She turned and began to walk away, "Go into industry or something. Be a middle manager somewhere. It's what suits your type."
"You're wrong!" N'Gir screeched after her, "I'm going right to the top, and when I get there I'm going to kick your hellmouth of a soul into the nearest political black hole."
"We'll see." Was all she heard before Krisil faded into the dark.
N'Gir sat there, panting, before she crawled over to where the personal information cards had been dropped. Slowly, she began to claw them back into the box.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
ClawClawBite
Mad Engineering!
- Location
- Seattle, WA
The claws always come out...
I wonder what Krisil is up to these days, with Federation President N'Gir ....
Maybe not in politics any longer?
Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Wait, are cat puns racist now?
Night
Widow Null
- Location
- Hoff
icanhazcheezeburger was a truly disgusting period in human history, but it must be remembered they didn't know any better, having not made contact.
It's N'Gir, her pain gives me joy.Sad cat
Everyone go pet your cats to counterbalance the sads that IronWolf just introduced to cats.
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
Hawke, you're reading the story of how N'Gir became an asshole to begin with. How she learned and internalized the lesson that snarling at people, pushing them around, and insulting them are "how to get shit done."
If she hadn't started her political career in this kind of ghastly interpersonal environment where verbal abuse, passive-aggressiveness and aggressive-aggressiveness... Maybe she wouldn't be such a terrible boss and maybe you wouldn't hate her in the first place.
If she hadn't started her political career in this kind of ghastly interpersonal environment where verbal abuse, passive-aggressiveness and aggressive-aggressiveness... Maybe she wouldn't be such a terrible boss and maybe you wouldn't hate her in the first place.
AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I have the mental image of one of N'Gir's aides trying to pull that sort of behavior with, say, a member of Maxieme Sierre's staff and the response is a raised eyebrow and, "That's pretty cute, I've been literally killed by the Hypercorps on two separate occasions and tortured by the Syndicate for a month once, so shhh"
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
Leslie:
"Twice, huh? Okay, you've got me beat, so I'll buy the booze for the no-shit story session, if you're game."
...
EDIT 1
Suffice to say, every revolution has its redshirts.
...
EDIT 2
I'm now also picturing the Tellarites not even noticing that the Caitians from the Asshole School of Politics are even doing anything; they're the most frighteningly normal large group of aliens the Tellarites have ever met. I wonder if this is how N'Gir and her immediate associates managed to ingratiate themselves so well with the Developmentalists.
"Twice, huh? Okay, you've got me beat, so I'll buy the booze for the no-shit story session, if you're game."
...
EDIT 1
Suffice to say, every revolution has its redshirts.
...
EDIT 2
I'm now also picturing the Tellarites not even noticing that the Caitians from the Asshole School of Politics are even doing anything; they're the most frighteningly normal large group of aliens the Tellarites have ever met. I wonder if this is how N'Gir and her immediate associates managed to ingratiate themselves so well with the Developmentalists.
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A true Malcat Tucker would probably have a witty rejoinder like "Died twice? No wonder this place smells so foul. I mean, I joke about being a husk, but you ma'am, you're an actual zombie."
This also rather assumes N'Gir hires only hires huge assholes. Maybe she likes having that role reserved for herself?
Possibly; I'd also offer the theory that N'Gir's sensor for what's insulting has been so skewed by her formative experiences she's not even aware she's being rude to others, and hanging around Tellarites probably hasn't helped that too much.
TBH though I think even Tellarites would find T'Kruul too extreme for their tastes. An argument is a dialogue, and that is basically the exact opposite of everything he does.
UbeOne
Daydreaming CPU
- Location
- Philippines
- Pronouns
- She/Her
No, they're purrfect.
- Location
- Patriarchova
Yeah, tellarites aren't just about being gruff and contrarian, they're about TALKING. I suspect their society is actually less duplicitous and secretive than most.
I picture the Tellerites like the (Was it Russians? Not sure, been years) man that Lisa met in an episode of the Simpsons.
Big hand movements, loud voice, screaming in another language. Meanwhile the subtitles are simple and the kind of thing you would expect in a rational discourse.
Big hand movements, loud voice, screaming in another language. Meanwhile the subtitles are simple and the kind of thing you would expect in a rational discourse.
It's been my headcanon for a while that it's actually seen as a huge insult in the tellarite culture not to complain. Like if they invited someone into thier house and all they said was "Its nice, nothing else to say." Or you're wearing a new pair of glasses and they're like "Oh, they look okay", those are basically fighting words. Because in the Tellarite mind, it's because the other person thinks you're too stupid to defend yourself. You picked out these glasses, you've got your reasons why, and now some asshole isn't even bothering to try and hear them. The fuck is his damage, thinking you can't support your choices?
"Well, your suit jacket is looking pretty nice."
And then A Punch Out!! ensues.
In human culture such maneuvers are usually designed to avoid conflict but would drastically exacerbate it with Tellarites -- you can see where there would be a major diplomacy issue.
AKuz
Been Better
- Location
- A Rising Tide of Horrors
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The point is that the Orion woman is like totally immune to the words because, like, the level of threat he poses is literally zero. Mean words mean nothing to someone who lived through the Tenth Orion Revolution or whatever.
He comes from a tradition where being mean 'n screamy is the worst possible thing and it's real off putting in a functional society. Whereas a lot of the Orion political class come from a tradition where whatever side you were on every day had the distinct chance of you waking up dead -or worse.
It's like "Congratulations. You insulted me again. Come back when you're prepared to literally rip out my throat with your teeth."
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- Location
- Patriarchova
do you really think I want a damned argument every time I post something here? Listen, politics suck, those who practice it now-a-days suck. N'Gir is a great example of this. Leave me alone.
- Location
- Australia
So the first several months of the Arsharra N'Gir administration actually involved political purges of every jerk in Caitian politics.
- Location
- Germany
- Pronouns
- He/Him
What did the social services do with this sudden influx of volunteers, and - who's left politicking?So the first several months of the Arsharra N'Gir administration actually involved political purges of every jerk in Caitian politics.