"Understood. I will inform Brother Geoyde." Mellone gives another bow of her head, "But I came to speak with you about your trip. You have five days until your meeting with the [Khagnate]. I've assembled a dossier if it pleases you, about him and his nation."
"Oh. Right. Yes." You slip it into one of the many pockets of the greatcoat, giving a nod. "Thank you, Daughter Mellone."
"Yes, Mother Pheonix." Mellone turns away towards one of the hovercraft, filled with a number of nervous-looking individuals in clean, precise Scholar suits, with green and teal capelets dropped over their shoulders. An ill-looking Geoyde is helped into the ship by one of these Scholars. He gives you a miserable look, and then the ship closes behind him. Another, a group of Warmachines, lifts up first, followed by the delegation. You spread your wings and join them, by the time you catch up, the hovercrafts have landed.
Murdach is brought up in the elevator -- with seven of his Voidmarines. Fully armed and standing a few [feet] taller. Hard as steel and dark as the void -- your Warmachines, when they disembark, do not seem as intimidating as these behemoths. More like children playing dress-up than actual soldiers.
"Ah, so this is your delegation'? And here I thought you had grit." Murdach taunts with a harsh laugh. "Bringin' such a paltry force."
[17 vs 12]
"No, these armored individuals are extra guards for you, for the duration of our discussion." With a flex of your wings and a cheerful smile, you return the taunt with a wide, beatific smile. "My wrath needs reason to abate, sometimes. As I'm sure you've witnessed."
William approaches from behind, giving a dark chuckle. "You truly are the Angel of Mercy, Pheonix. Sometimes I wish you weren't so damn merciful." His eyes drift over the armor of his counterpart, Murdach, and the smile curves wider. "But then why would you need me? Besides my stunning personality?"
"Well met!" Murdach laughs, then gestures. For you, he's speaking High Empyreal, but you know for a fact he's also speaking the SEED common tongue-- "Come on in. Enjoy our hospitality -- please remember, everything has a price! Take a rest!" Then the sensor on the top of Murdach's armor twists towards you. "Pheonix. My people wish to question you after my speech and before the calling of the vote. If you want our assistance, sway them."
You nod, adjusting your coat as you and your retinue enter into the ship. Nearby the airlock is a well-furnished, comfortable room, with a long table surrounded, except in the middle, by chairs. All along it, in front of each of the chair, is a console raised from the wood.
A motley collection of pirates enter, sitting across from the precise and neat lines of your bookies. Geoyde and Mellone take leading seats, as if shielding their people from the other group. The pirates laugh and joke with each other, while the bookies and diplomats sit quietly.
"Wait here." You murmur, as your Warmachines take up defensive postings for the diplomats. William sits on the table between the two groups, smiling cheerfully but he's coiled like a spring. A hand on his belt and his cybernetic muscles bared.
"Aigh'. Listen up. Only goin' to speak like this once." Murdach stands in front of a crowd of huddled pirates, their outfits as mismatched as their personalities -- cybernetics are on full display, and in the back of the group, you even notice a monster of a man, his torso implanted on to eight, long legs. His arms have been replaced with a number of tools, grasping implements and various gear. Another which catches your eyes is a dark-eyed young man, skinny and thin, with great bags under his eyes. He has no ears, and his shaggy hair is wet and covered in algae.
"So, I stand before you with Pheonix of Sol. Descendent of Regis, the Rimward King, the Slayer -- and of Sol herself! Fate crossed our paths, and she wishes to make a deal with us. Now, we're dead in the dirt. This is not our home, this is not the skies we've been promised, nor the night that we own. But, for the foreseeable future, we're grounded. Now, I've had to make some concessions -- we need land for food and settlin', we need minerals and energy for industrializing, and we need somethin' to gain from all this. Pheonix here wants our survey data, some of our common stock--" Murdach weathers the boos in silence, but he raises his hands. "...but more importantly, she wants out weapons. This planet is fertile -- we know that. This planet is wealthy -- we know that."
"But more importantly -- and this is news I ain't been wantin' to break, but it might change some of your minds." He raises his hands. "In this system is all the precursors for a Relay. In fifty, to ninety years, this system will have a Empyreal gate. Mark my words. Its only fifty light years from the old Relay for this sector of the Rim."
"Now, with that consideration' in mind -- how many of you want to settle here now? How many of you want to turn your [swords to plows], and with a smile, hand your grandchildren all the riches a new sector like this can offer? I'll turn this over to Pheonix -- you know the Lady by now -- a trueborn Pirate, like her Line-Mother Alphira. Like the Rimward King. Like Old Sol! She ripped herself apart to spit in the face of a damn Noble. She's threatened to kill that very Noble for the slight of makin' her bow! What do we have to fear when we're contracted to this monster of a Lady? Nothin' but our own damn prides."
Murdach turns, stepping away -- and with a gentle push of his backhand, nudges you into the center of the crowd. Somebody calls out from the assembled Pirates, curious, "Why'd you do it? Why you wann' kill Magnus?"
[1]
Your breath catches in your throat. You open and shut your mouth, looking out over the crowd.
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Topic: McCreary's Planet -- (FINISHED) (Read 252166 times)