Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Date: 74 PST (Post Stasis Time)

“The Terran Alliance was pushed from the planet by the Estorian Empire.”

That sentence made Zantari pause for a moment, staring down at the screen hovering in front of themselves.  They understood the words, of course, Zantari hadn’t spent their thousands of years of existence being illiterate, but one of them was a new word, one they hadn’t seen before.

“Terran”

Zantari liked to consider themselves well-read and up to date on the latest goings-on in the universe. In fact, all of his species would consider themselves as such. Most species can be defined as having one goal or another, one word that broadly describes their culture. Warrior, explorer, conqueror, trader, healer.

The Ghirlinn could be described as watchers, archivists, cataloguing and learning about the millions of species that inhabited the near infinite universe, over the near infinite number of galaxies.

When you got to the technological level of the Ghirlinn, there really wasn’t much else you could do. Sure you could go and conquer planet after planet with your technological advantage, but not only was that boring, eventually your grand empire would either collapse into infighting, or worse, you would end up attacking a species with some form of higher protection. Becoming a god was a thing, although there were only so many types of life you could create and civilizations to form before that becomes stale too. 

Ascending to a higher form of existence was always an option, and something many Ghirlinn had chosen to do at this point, although Zantari didn’t quite feel that their hundreds of thousands of years of physical existence had been enough yet, and wasn’t quite ready for that next step. Besides, you couldn’t get a stiff drink after ascending.

So, instead, they watched. The millions of species, trillions of people, all doing interesting, special, and fun things. Like a never ending soap opera: they fought and loved, they laughed and died. Seeing betrayals and alliances form as various empires and governments rose and fell made for a level of entertainment. Which was why Zantari was confused that they didn’t know the word “Terran”. It wasn’t a species in the Ghirlinn’s central repository, and finding something new was always interesting.

Zantari sat in the comfortable ‘den’ of their creation, a mass of blankets and snacks suspended in a white void, perfect for some light reading about the goings-on in the Milky Way. In the middle of this pile of comfort, lay the Ghirlinn. Describing a Ghirlinn is a difficult thing, since they can choose their appearance as they see fit, able to shift and change their entire being with a mere thought. Right now, they chose to take the form of a small furry brown mammal nestled snugly in between the literal mountain of white soft pillows and duvets.

No, this wouldn’t do at all. This is the environment for chilling out, not for doing research on an unknown species.

In an instant, reality moved at Zantari’s mere prodding, the room changing to a simple study of brick walls and oak furniture, faux books lining a shelf on one wall, and a roaring fire on the other. Their own form took on a more reptilian professional appearance, adorned in silken robes of red and gold, six fingered hands covered in light grey-blue scales, all four of their arms reaching out to various hovering interfaces as they started looking through this galaxy’s various repositories for more information on these ‘Terrans’ and their alliance.

They soon found what they needed in various textual descriptions. A species of primate, recently appearing on the galactic scene a mere [74 years] ago. B+ level technology, and if their propaganda was to be believed, hadn’t just built an AI that didn’t kill them, but claimed to live together with their AI, unified under one name. Now that was a rarity. They weren’t the first species in the universe to survive the creation of an AI, but most of the time it ended with a ‘mutual separation’, where creator and created decide to go their own way. There were several Ghirlinn AI civilizations scattered around the universe, and their creators wished them well, but left them to do their own thing.

Whoever these Terrans were. It sadly wouldn’t matter. Having to fight the Estorian Empire as a newcomer to the galaxy was a harsh introduction to the universe; It was highly unlikely this single species could stand against the terrible power of the five shitheads that made up the Empire. 

Although calling your new alliance after yourself was a little bit arrogant.

Normally new species went for something more optimistic, “The Council of Stars” or something like that. A little bit of curiosity caused Zantari to go looking for who exactly the Terrans had allied with, to the extent that they’d be willing to go to war on the Terran’s behalf. Upon finding that information, they paused, stopping for a moment as they looked at the list with a moment of confusion.

This had to be wrong. There is no way this is right.

There were 428 names on that list. Two of them had joined after the war had been declared. The species had only been on the galactic scene for 74 years, this wasn’t possible for a civilization to garner this many allies in such a short period of time. Sure, most of the names on the list were smaller 1-2 system governments, but they could see a handful of heavy hitters looking down the gigantic list of names. Zantari checked once, checked twice, then decided that this was worth further investigation.

How did a civilization creating this Alliance get missed in our records? This should be worth some note.

Their confusion was driven deeper as they investigated who was responsible for logging, cataloguing and maintaining diplomatic relations with that area of the galaxy. It was a Ghirlinn by the name of Xanara, based on the same station as Zantari was currently on. There was a meeting booked to start proper diplomatic relations with the Terrans in [25 years, 3 months and 2 days] time, just slightly under the [100 year] deadline upon discovering a new species. This was even more confusing, suggesting that Xanara hadn’t missed this huge alliance forming out of nowhere, but instead had purposefully avoided adding it to the records.

Well, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.

The room disappeared in a moment, leaving Zantari in the public area of the Ghirlinn station, as they shifted their form to that of a giant green avian. They took flight, taking to the air as they moved towards the known location of Xanara’s quarters. They could have just teleported of course, well… teleported was the wrong technical term for it. You couldn’t transport atoms without destroying the original object, but it was far easier to just move the rest of the universe closer to your location. Still, Zantari chose not to do that, always enjoying the feeling of flight as they moved through the station, taking a moment to gather their thoughts.

Like all Ghirlinn stations, size wasn’t really a measurable thing, since the physical limitations of dimensional constructs were no longer being heeded. The station was both the size of a pinhead, and larger than most planets, allowing Zantari to fly through corridors through it in a matter of both years and seconds. It looked nothing like any ordinary vessel, the various rooms and areas of the station refusing to follow any logical or even Euclidean rules.

Sprawling landscapes of wildness gave way to voids of crystalline light floating in the air. The birth of a star could be found at the bottom of an infinite staircase to yesterday, a side door took you to a quiet diner, serving warm comforting food while it continually rained outside. When dimensions and physical reality cease to be the limiting factor of a species technology, the only limit left to break, is that of your imagination.

Eventually, after a period of time unable to be measured, Zantari arrived at their location: Xanara’s quarters. The beach was vast, an infinite horizon of golden sands stretching out to infinity, above it a sky lit up with a never ending supernova. They could see Xanara in the centre of it all as they approached, the Ghirlinn taking a long flat form, stretching for miles and having buried themselves slightly, enjoying the sensation of the warm shifting sands cascading around the large surface area of their chosen form.

<Greetings Zantari, what brings you to my office?>

Zantari felt the words enter their mind as they approached, giving a polite wave of their wing before responding in kind.

<Greetings to you as well Xanara. I’ve come to ask some questions about a species under your diplomatic responsibility. What do you know about ‘Terrans’?>

There was a pause, a most noticeable pause as Xanara slowly got worried.

<Well, shit. I guess someone else was bound to notice them eventually.>

The space changed, the never-ending beach being replaced with a more formal setting: A well furnished office with no other distractions, various floating screens and interfaces allowing access to a universe of information. Xanara also changed, choosing a more professional form; the same reptilian bipedal form Zantari had used while researching. Zantari shifted themselves as well, doing the same out of politeness.

<What’s the problem? They’re just a new species of primate, why the delay in adding them to the records?> Zantari asked, moderately confused and curious.

<They’re not just a species of primate, adding them to the records is going to cause issues. Terrans are…> Xanara paused as they tried to collect their thoughts, before deciding upon a different approach <Let me just show you.>

There was a moment before a visualization appeared on one of the screens floating in between the pair of Ghirlinn. A Terran, unclothed, arms and legs stretched out, showing their furless, bipedal and tailless form. Zantari made a small coughing noise, struggling for a moment to remain professional. This creature… was adorable. It was like a child who hadn’t gone past their larval stage, hairless and with only four limbs. Somehow the small tufts the Terran did have upon their tiny heads made them even cuter. Zantari had the distinct urge to give this creature hugs and candied treats.

Noticing the other’s reaction, Xanara continued, making a gesturing motion to the image.

<It gets worse. This is how most Terrans look on their day-to-day life.>

The image changed again, this time showing an actual image of one of the Terran’s military leaders. Zantari’s professionally completely broke this time, emitting an actual physical noise which could only be described as ‘A Squee of Cute overload’.

<Oh my goodness that is adorable! Look at it, It’s got a little hat and those clothes. It’s trying to be serious, but it’s not and those shiny adornments on his chest. Look at it, it’s so squishable.>

<That is the 1st Admiral of their war fleet, by the way, a very distinguished position, so I’ve come to understand. I also had the same reaction when their diplomats contacted our outpost in this galaxy [72 years] ago.>

Zantari slowly calmed down, both feeling a regret that they didn’t know about this adorably cute species that took themselves too seriously, and a confusion as to why Xanara looked so worried.

<So what’s the problem? An adorably cute species wants to open diplomatic communications with us?>

<What was your first reaction to seeing this image? Be honest.>

<It’s cute and I want one.>

Xanara spread their arms out wide as if the other Ghirlinn had proven their point.

<When I initialize contact and this image, as well as the thousands of other pictures that exist in their diplomatic package, gets spread to the other galaxies, what do you think their reaction will also be?>

It took a few seconds of thinking before Zantari realized with absolute horror the issue at hand.

<Oh no. They’ll go out to get their own. Terran trafficking is going to become a problem.>

<We can stop most of it, but not all, and even if the people doing this outside government control won’t have a creation engine, these Terrans have nothing able to stop even a basic transport carrier. I don’t know how these Primates would react to that kind of invasion and kidnapping.>

Zantari started to think. Solutions had to be available, there was no such thing as impossible to the Ghirlinn.

<Can't we move just some of their planets to other galaxies, spread the Terrans around a bit to make the people in the other galaxies happy? They have over 30 systems, surely they can spare a few planets. We can give them some Dyson spheres in return, species at that technological level love Dyson spheres.>

<That’s the issue, I don’t know. I don’t know if the Terrans would see that as an insult or not. Every piece of information available about them is contradictory and stupid. I thought I could just see how they acted in the galaxy and infer from there but… well just look at the Terran Alliance list! They have the aggressive Litorian Horde and the Scythen’s with their new pacificism thing.>

Zantari brought up the list of over 400 species once again, looking through it more carefully this time. Xanara was right, every single member on this list was a contradiction to the other. By any reasonable accounts, this organization should have fallen to infighting about 5 years after it was made.

<Wait, is that the Jkugar and Yuur? Aren’t they in the middle of a [400 year] war of genocide against each other?>

<They were, now for the last [40 years] that’s been put on hold ever since they joined the Alliance. It makes no sense, I can’t tell if the Terrans are pacifists or warriors, if they prefer power or information. I have no clue how to diplomatically deal with them and the issues they’re about to face from our species, and I don’t want to be known as the person who caused the adorably cute primates to hate us. I know they’re not a threat, but I don’t want something that helpless to declare war on us!>

<I mean, seeing them try to fight us would be kinda adorable, we could even set up some fake victories for them…>

Xanara stared at Zantari for a moment, the latter realizing that ‘whether the Terrans going to war was cute or not’, was not the point of contention.

<My point is, without talking to these Terrans first, I don’t know how to deal with them and the problems they’re about to face. I can’t talk to them to find out without logging it in the official records, and doing that setting these problems in motion! I’ve mostly just been hoping the problem goes away on its own.>

Well that wouldn’t work, just waiting for it to solve itself, that kind of problem never did. It was a classic Catch-22. You didn’t know how to solve the problem until you triggered the problem itself, and then it was too late. Zantari stared at the list of names once more, when an idea occurred to them.

<Why don’t we just ask them?>

<Did you not listen! I just explained why we can’t talk with the Terrans.>

<Not the Terrans. Them.> Zantari pointed at the list of names. <The ones they allied with. Each of them must know enough about the cute primates to throw their lot in with them. Why don’t we just ask them?>

Xanara looked taken aback for a moment, before waving their limbs in agreement and excitement.

<That could work! Those species are already in our central repositories, so no-one will notice a few diplomatic meetings going on, and this area of the universe is due for a quick checkup regardless! Why didn’t I think of that?>

It wasn’t considered polite for Zantari to respond to that question, so they didn’t, instead waiting patiently as the other Ghirlinn got to work, pulling up lists of contacts and possible meeting dates, going through the logistics of contacting as many diplomats as possible.

<Do you want to be the one to go Zantari? It was your idea, and I have a busy schedule for the next [year].>

<Could be fun, talking with people. I haven’t travelled outside Ghirlinn space for a good few [years]. Should be something new.>

Something new indeed. Once again Zantari stared at the list of names, hundreds of species, each one as varied as the last. Warrior races, traders, single planet species who only just got FTL and multi system empires. There was no sense to it all, no rhyme, no reason; but there must be. There must be a reason why all these different cultures agreed to ally themselves with these adorable primates, a central rule that explains what these Terrans stand for.

All Zantari had to do was travel around the galaxy and ask these species to explain why they joined the Terran Alliance. To ask them to explain, when these Terrans asked them to join: Why we said yes.

Chapter Text

Like most Ritilian planets, Jormangar was of a temperate climate. Dry and arid, the reptilian species had emerged from its sand covered masses and entered the galaxy about 3000 years ago. A moderately influential race with a perchance for exploration, they were well known for their vast network of small colonies scattered around the galaxy, taking warmer locations that most species couldn’t handle.

Zantari stood in the embassy that hung in the sky, the giant floating structure hovering over the great capital city below. Their taken form was a small cream-coloured bipedal reptile, dressed in airy white robes, to deal with the heat that even this room suffered from. They looked out of the large glass window that offered an enticing view of the entire sunlit land beneath them. While the Ritilians had long since left the sand dunes behind in favour of a bustling metropolis, the cultural impact of such a start to their species was clearly evident in their architecture.

Every structure faced the winds with sharp edges designed to cut against the sandstorms of old, a sea of matt white buildings more akin to sails stretching as far as the eyes could see, thousands of different buildings of varying sizes, from tall skyscrapers that reached to the heavens to older smaller single family dwellings that almost seemed to erupt from the ground.

The Ghirlinn had seen this before; the Ritilians were a known quantity, properly catalogued with politely maintained diplomatic relations. What interested them more were the changes. The impact of the Terrans since Zantari had been here last was clear, almost strikingly so. The square buildings that had been created by the primates stood out like a sore thumb, the small structures scattered around the city showing the impact the Terrans had had on the reptilian species over a mere 70 years.

Zantari was easily able to change their visual acuity to watch the people as they moved around the streets below them, meaning they got their first real life glimpse of the cute little primates known as Terrans. They were a minority, but a noticeable one, as they wandered around the city streets, interacting with the residents of this planet, and sunbathing in the various parks and pools that were scattered in-between the built-up city. Even watching them was adorable, the little munchkins getting into all kinds of trouble as Zantari watched from his seat miles above them in the sky.

I wonder if they like belly rubs. Their tummies look super patable…

The sound of the door opening caused Zantari to flinch guiltily as they were ripped out of their people watching and tummy rubbing thoughts. Continually reminding themselves that the Terrans were sentient beings was going to be a struggle during this assignment, but a struggle that would have to wait, as the Ritilian delegate they were meeting with finally entered the room.

The reptilian stood at around 5 feet tall, blue-green scales partially covered by the yellow and green striped uniform that denoted her as a member of the diplomatic staff. She hastily took a seat amongst the off-white professional looking furniture that denoted standard Ritilian decor, Zantari doing the same out of politeness and taking their own seat opposite the reptile.

“Greetings Ambassador Zantari. I do apologize for the delay, we weren’t expecting a contact from the Ghirlinn, especially at such short notice. I’m diplomat Phallenia, and how can we be of aid to the Ghirlinn?”

Zantari could tell that the Ritilian was worried. Phallenia was hiding it well, but there was a small measure of nervous energy coming from the delegate. The Ritilians were generally pragmatic, and the most pragmatic thing a species could do was not angering a species far higher on the technological food chain than you were.

“No worries at all. We’re just doing an audit of this area of the universe, and have a few questions about this grand alliance that you are a part of. Can you please explain about this ‘Terran Alliance’?”

Phallenia was obviously confused, a curious and wary look appearing over her face as she stared back at the Ghirlinn.

“Well… if you want to know about the Alliance, there’s not really much I can tell you that’s not in the public records. Honestly, contacting the Terrans themselves is probably the better source of information.”

“All in good time. I feel that talking with the individual members gives us a better feel for the overall structure as we understand this new development. I understand that the Ritilians were the first members of the alliance?”

“Well if you don’t count the Hatil, which we don’t since they weren’t voluntary, then yes. Before it was an Alliance, there were the Terrans and the Ritilians.”

Zantari noted a measure of pride coming from the reptilian before them as they stated that, as if being the first was a huge honour.

“So how did that happen. How did you first ally with the Terrans?”

“Well it all started with the Terran invasion of Cuca. We had just started a small colony on the planet, which the Terrans attempted to also colonise without realizing we were there first. An… engagement ended up happening. Officially we don’t know which side started it, although it’s likely that the Terrans were the ones to start shooting first.”

“And this invasion ended in an alliance?”

“Well, we both realized the mistake, the Terrans didn’t wish to push the issue, and we weren’t going to break an unbroken egg. But then a year later, that same colony came under attack by the Tritian AI, with no way to get our defensive forces there in time.”

Zantari knew of the Tritians and their now genocidal AI. They were annoyingly persistent in trying to kill all organic life, even when the Ghirlinn far outmatched them. As Phallenia continued to speak Zantari couldn’t help but feel a bit of sympathy for the members of the Cuca colony for having to deal with that threat.

“The Terrans were the ones to help, successfully saving thousands of lives. They asked for nothing in return and gave up so much without being asked. Relations between our two species increased immensely since that moment: Trade deals, free movement agreements, you get the idea.”

“And this led to the Alliance?”

“Well the Terrans kept making new friends. The Quoxxett, the Scythens, the Tlunaa. Eventually the web of trade agreements and other treaties became difficult to track, so we decided to make it official after the Terrans made their tenth friend.”

That was interesting, painting the Terrans as friendly charitable philanthropists willing to make friends with and help anyone. Honestly, it sounded sweet: a bunch of cute little primates going around the galaxy helping people. Definitely the kind of people who deserved a good head pat and some treats.

“I do have a question: Why did you all agree to it being called the ‘Terran Alliance’. Naming such a grand alliance after one species sounds a little… arrogant.”

Phalennia paused for a moment, as if she was trying to properly word her response.

“Well, it’s not officially called that. Officially, it has no name.”

Confusion. That wasn’t the answer Zantari was expecting, leaving them with one singular question.

“How?”

“Well, the original plan was for each species to suggest a name, then each of the members would vote on that name. This was a good plan, but didn’t account for Terrans being… Terrans. The Terrans… failed to decide amongst themselves their suggestion for a name.”

More confusion. How does an entire species fail to submit a name for an alliance that was presumably their idea?

“I ask again, how? How difficult could choosing a name be?”

“You really haven't dealt with Terrans, have you? There are more Terran opinions than there are grains of sands on Jormangar. Asking a group of them to decide anything is a nightmare of contradictions and disagreements. From what I understand they are still trying to decide their submitted name, 60 years later. Last time I checked they were down to a mere 6 potential choices.”

That… that sounded absolutely adorable from the little primates. Zantari could imagine them now, arguing and being unable to work out a simple consensus for the simplest of questions, running around trying to decide amongst themselves. The Ghirlinn was starting to feel as if this entire endeavour had been a huge overreaction, an overabundance of caution. How could these cute little creatures, who couldn’t decide a name and spent their time making friends, take any offence to the Ghirlinn?

“So you just called it Terran Alliance because…?”

“Well we had to call it something, and the Terrans are the common denominator of our alliance. The name just… stuck. Just another oddity with the Terrans.”

There was a pause as Phallenia seemed to… inwardly sigh to herself at that statement. It was a small thing, hardly noticeable, but the sign of someone who had spent a lot of nights dealing with “oddities”.

“So how has this alliance worked for the Ritilians? We Ghirlinn are very interested to hear how each member feels about this new Alliance with the Terrans.”

Once again, the Ritilian diplomat took a moment to choose her words. The Ghirlinn were a powerful species, so it was strange seeing them taking such an interest in an alliance of species not at their technological level. Then again, what damage could being honest here actually do? Everyone knew about the Terrans, so it wasn’t like she was sharing some deep dark secret.

“I could describe the increase in trade and technology sharing as advantages, but I feel that would downplay how much the Alliance has changed our thinking. Terrans are an impossible puzzle, as chaotic as shifting sands, never to be nailed down under one ideology or line of thinking. We’ve had to draft a lot of new laws, especially around setting things on fire or attaching weaponry to inanimate objects. They can be rude, overbearing, loud, impossible to predict.”

Phallenia took on a distant look for a moment, as if her bright yellow reptilian eyes were looking back at the many instances of such behaviours she’d had to deal with from the Terrans, before finishing her statement.

“However, they are also enthusiastic, child-like in their curiosity about the galaxy. They will bond with anyone and anything. They celebrate and uplift our culture with enthusiasm, and in turn they change us, slowly, for the better. There are myths in our culture of helpful spirits, and that’s what the Terrans are: Illogical, crazy, friendly fae. If you’re ever in trouble, they’ll be there. Holding something that they set on fire with one hand, the other outstretched in an offer of eternal aid and friendship.”

“The only regret the Ritilians have is that we didn’t contact the Terrans sooner.”

Chapter Text

The sounds of fighting bellowed across the field as tens of people fought each other with various combat forms. The clash of weapons, as screams of exertion and pain were roared out into a grey cloudy sky. Victors and losers were made as multiple duels were being held, some by surrender, others by death. Corpses were scattered as far as the eye could see, over a field long since churned to mud during generations of fighting. Some of the bodies were centuries old, nothing more than fragile bones that shattered under Zantari’s footsteps as they approached the meeting place. Others were freshly slain, laying where they had fallen mere hours or days before. The smell of death and decay hung rife in the air while various scavengers came to eat their fill of the morbid landscape.

Zantari finally reached the top of the hill rose from the centre of the field, taking a moment to look at the chaos below him, while the Litorian diplomat they had come to meet slowly approached his location. This was where disputes were settled, and the Litorian Horde tested their strength against each other. This was also a location where deals were done and diplomacy was to be had. It followed a well-known rule amongst the Litorian Horde: All diplomatic talks had to be done on the battlefield.

Zantari had been the most interested in speaking to this species. The Litorians were a giant mammalian race, although their dusty orange natural armour often gave them an insectoid appearance, their intersecting plates of chitin protecting them from head to toe with a barrier as tough as steel. Large sharp claws stood at the ends of powerful limbs, teeth set within a jaw that could break bone.

Zantari watched two fighters in particular while they waited, the two combatants throwing themselves at each other with bladed weapons as they fought under a giant gnarled tree buried in the mud. One of the pair struck a final blow, slipping the tip of his sword in between his opponent's plates of chitinous armour, shoving the weapon through the other’s chest with a final moment of exertion. The loser gave a shocked silent gurgle, black blood pouring from the wound and their vicious bestial mouth, before collapsing dead to the ground.

The victor didn’t seem to care that much, leaving the defeated Litorian to lay in the mud with the thousands of other corpses that had been left to rot and decay over the centuries. What had their conflict been about? Territory? Ideology? Power? A mate? Whatever it was, to the loser it no longer mattered, because in Litorian society, whoever was right was whoever was strongest. As their saying went, ‘Strength leads Strength’.

“Welcome, powerful Ghirlinn representative. How can we serve ones of such strength? Are you here to finally take your place as our rightful leaders?”

The Litorian diplomat stood facing Zantari upon the hill, dressed with a single bright blue ceremonial sash denoting them as an ambassador, holding a corresponding diplomatic mace in one hand. Not that she would ever dream of using it against the Ghirlinn, who had changed their appearance to dwarf the 8 foot tall Litorian: 11 feet of muscle, teeth, claws and spikes, purposefully put together to be the ultimate apex predator. Zantari knew how to deal with the weird quirks of the Litorian society, and making themselves physically intimidating was one way to deal with it.

The Litorian Horde were a standard ‘might makes right’ warrior race, with a strange twist of not being hypocritical about it, looking honestly at their own power. Upon contact with the Ghirlinn, they had immediately realized the power disparity between the two races, and offered their own subjugation to the other as the weaker species. Which the Ghirlinn had politely but firmly declined.

“No, not that. I’m interested in the Terran Alliance. I would not have seen your species as one to join such endeavours, and we are interested in how this came to be.”

Zantari had talked with 4 species so far, all of which had stated the same things about the cute little Terrans: their friendship and desire to help all. The Litorian Horde didn’t fit in with this view, an aggressive species who had once subjected and conquered several worlds. Had being the important word: Since joining the Terran Alliance, the Litorian Horde hadn’t started a war for the last 40 years, instead returning all of their previously conquered planets. This was not what Zantari had expected to find.

“Our joining under the Terrans is simple: Strength leads Strength.”

The Litorian said it simply, as if this explained everything, her words said with a conviction that left Zantari confused and checking the functionality of their translator. They waited a few more moments hoping that the diplomat would continue to speak, an awkward silence between the pair only being punctuated by the cry of someone below losing their claim of strength. Eventually, Zantari realized the diplomat wasn’t going to provide any more information.

“That… doesn’t help. Maybe start at the beginning of your interactions with the Terrans.”

“Initially in our ignorance, we believed them weak. They had befriended and allied with a species within our initial claim of conquest. They disagreed with our right to their lands. We did not believe them worthy of such a claim, but gave them the opportunity to prove us wrong. And so they sent a diplomat, not a snivelling weak willed man of only words like most species would, but one who showed a strength of their own. One called Mr. Ket.”

The name was spoken with reverence, as if talking about a great man, and Zantari couldn’t help but wonder what the adorable little primate had done to convince this warrior race to change so drastically. A message of friendship and freedom so moving it changed these people? Zantari didn’t have to wait long as the Litorian ambassador pulled out a small soft-light holographic emitter, continuing to talk as she turned it on.

“Mr Ket initially tried to convince us otherwise with words, like any other pathetic diplomat might. When we would not listen to mere words, he challenged our then leader, Head Warrior Kuln, to a claim of strength. We did not decline of course, as any and all may make such a claim, although most would not survive the process.”

The hologram showed a smaller view of the same hill the pair were currently standing on, the recording of a meeting between Mr. Ket and Head Warrior Kuln, both armed with a mace and staring at the other. Even this rougher, tougher looking Terran was adorable, his bulky muscular form squeezed into the smart black suit he wore. His body language took on a motion of… boredom, glancing at Kuln with an air of irritation.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Mr Ket spoke with an annoyed tone. “This is all very silly.”

The only response from the Litorian was a snarling growl, before launching themselves at the Terran.

Zantari wondered how the precious little primate was going to deal with this. Perhaps they’d tire the larger beast out, staying out of range before convincing them with a speech of friendship? Or some other clever ruse to get the warrior race to see the error of their ways?

Much to the Ghirlinn’s horror, Mr Ket did neither of those things. Instead, the Terran used their more agile nature to beat the ever living shit out of their opponent. With a level of alarm and disturbing ferocity, Mr Ket danced around their foe, dodging every swing by their opponent all the while dealing destructive blows to joints and limbs, focusing on the body and head as soon as Kuln’s own mobility had been compromised and he buckled. It was like watching a puppy tear apart a nest of rats, a morbid contradiction of the Terrans’ outward appearance as they slowly wore down the Litorian with cruel precise blows.

How could something that cute also be this vicious?

Eventually Mr. Ket stood victorious over a nearly dead Kuln, breathing heavily, mace dripping with black blood, a few cuts and scratches from errant claw swipes covering his now muddied suit. Mr Ket took a moment to spit out a mouthful of crimson blood, before turning to look at someone not in view of the recording.

“OK, I’ve done your stupid ritual thing. Now can we talk?”

The recording ended, leaving Zantari a little bit shaken, as the Litorian diplomat spoke once more.

“After proven their claim of strength against our strongest warrior, Mr Ket declined the offer to kill and eat Kuln and his offspring. The Terrans also refused to take their rightful place as masters of the Litorian Horde.”

There was a twinge in her voice that suggested she was exceptionally offended at the idea of a species this strong refusing to lead them.

“So we did the only acceptable move. We let them subjugate us with their rules. We gave up our conquests, changed our laws, and joined their Alliance. The Terrans showed their strength, so we let them lead us as much as they were willing, which is glaringly not as much as their strength deserves.”

That was… something. It explained the changes to the Litorian Horde that Zantari had seen, but at the same time to give up what they’d been fighting over for the last twenty thousand years, all in the blink of an eye and over only one battle. Zantari had never truly understood the mentality of the Litorian Horde, and even now they felt confused.

“That must have been quite a change. Stopping your aggressive tendencies for over forty years. Has there been any regret to joining the Terran Alliance?”

“Oh, we didn’t stop. We just adapted to the Terran way of doing things. Strength leads Strength. While the Terran Alliance does not officially get involved in war, the Terrans are warriors at heart. Private military organizations have aided in the rebellion of many aggressive governments who refuse to diplomatically deal with the Terran Alliance. Aid convoys and charities need protection, and the Terrans’ hatred for slavers is well known. As long as you follow Terran sensibilities around war and allow them to create the strange concept of ‘democracy’ where they are victorious, the Terrans are very happy to let you fight for the ‘right thing’. Unofficially, of course.”

There was a joy in the Litorian’s voice, as if relishing in the memory of previous battles under such circumstances, the body language of the diplomat becoming more energetic as she spoke.

“If anything, joining the Alliance has increased the frequency of such tests of strength. To be led by ones of strength is to be strong yourself. This is seen with the Estorian war. It was inevitable, the Terran drive for power requires them to ‘fix’ the universe where they see it. The Estorians are diametrically opposed to the Terran ideology, so the war was always going to happen, a great battle, a glorious test of strength. Alone the Litorian Horde could never go up against such a grouping, but under the ferocity of the Terrans we are made stronger.”

Zantari felt a little shaken, his mental image of the Terrans shifting wildly as the diplomat sung their praises. The Ghirlinn looked out upon the battlefield below them, at the sights of battle: of victories, of surrenders, of death. They had wondered how the Litorian Horde had been changed in such a manner to allow them to join this Terran Alliance of supposed peace. But this species hadn’t been changed at all, merely slightly moulded into something slightly less destructive, somehow finding a spot amongst this group of species who allied with the primates.

“Terrans hide their strength behind honeyed words of weakness, but strength they have and strength they are. They hide their history of warfare and violence, as if it is a great shame, but deep down they are a species of warriors. Proud, willing to fight for what they believe in, with a determination to change the universe until it yields to their view. This is why the Litorian Horde joined the Terran Alliance. Strength leads Strength.”

The way this diplomat spoke of the admittedly still adorable Terrans made them sound like a stubborn unstoppable force of nature. Zantari could still see visions of one of their diplomats beating a Litorian half to death with nothing more than a mace. This wasn’t the cute, friendly primates the other species were describing. This was a species whose first reaction to seeing a heavily armoured apex predator larger than they were, was to hit it with a mace. Sure, they would never be a threat to the Ghirlinn due to the technological disadvantage, but Zantari didn’t want the Terrans to hate them and aggressively try the same strategy once members of their species started trafficking Terrans.

These Terrans are stranger than I thought. This situation might be more complicated than it seems.

Chapter Text

“No talking, drink first. Then our boring talk. But first, drink!”

Zantari looked down at the shot of alcohol that had been placed in front of them before staring across at the other diplomat, the brightly coloured red and yellow bird taking her own shot with the confidence of someone who had spent a lot of time downing drinks at diplomatic functions.

The Parket had a simple rule of diplomats, politicians, lawyers and all manner of ‘boring’ jobs. All of them were bastards who lied to get what they wanted, but it was way harder to lie through your beak when slightly drunk. Thus, anyone in any such position must legally start their work with a drink, and this was a requirement for all ambassadors regardless of species. 

Zantari didn't know any of this, however. Zantari didn't know much about the Parket in general, since the avians were a very small player in the galaxy at large, having had no real major impact on anything outside of their small group of allies. Whatever the Ghirlinn had been expecting, it wasn't this. 

Zantari had been inside a lot of diplomatic meeting rooms over the years, especially since their meetings with anyone outside of their own species was a major event for the other party: Being visited by someone with the technological ability to move planets was both a threat and an opportunity. Most locations followed the same pattern: Either trying to be as neutral and boring as possible, or a grandiose display of power and wealth to overstate their species’ importance. This location was neither. 

Miles of rolling coastline stretched out in front of them, waves forming on this spotless beach, a perfect, warm day that gave promises of sunbathing and ice cream. Hundreds of Parket could be seen, relaxing on the sands or swimming the ocean without a care in the world. A flock of tiny fledglings played and fought with each other not too far from Zantari's position, their squawks and chirps sounding out along the beach. 

A small table lay in the sand, around which the Ghirlinn and Parket diplomats both sat, both sitting on perches as Zantari had taken the form of an avian once again. The sound of a beachside bar making drinks could be heard in the background, all while noisy birds shouted orders amidst the clatter of ice being shaken as a cocktail was made. 

If the Ghirlinn didn't know any better, they could have sworn that the Parket diplomat had taken them to a beachside pub to have this very important meeting. Zantari looked down at the shot of alcohol placed in front of them, giving a shrug, before downing the entire thing in one go. A fruity taste, with a strong after burn that betrayed its very potent alcoholic content. 

This seemed to make the Parket happy, who finally stopped ordering the next round of refreshments and began to focus on the meeting at hand, although not before pouring and drinking another shot from the bottle that stood in front of them.

“So, greetings Mr… I don’t think we’ve met honestly, looking back at the records you guys last contacted us over 300 years ago. Not sure what you’d want to talk about since your technology is basically magic, I’d have thought you’d be too busy making black holes to chat.”

The Parket diplomat shouted the words in an excited stream of consciousness, even this ‘restrained’ ambassador showing glimpses of the stereotypical chaos the avian species were well known for. It was one of the reasons the Parket weren’t well situated within galactic politics, with a lot of species considering them ‘annoying’ and ‘impossible to work with’.

“We are doing an audit of this area of the universe, and are interested in learning about this Terran alliance you have joined.”

“Wait, you wanna know about the Terrans? Oh, thank god, I thought you wanted to talk about boring shit like trade deals or something! Yeah, I can tell you about the alliance, heck, telling you about the Terrans is even easier because they are the alliance, they are why we joined.”

The Parket was suddenly more alert, giving happy chirps as they downed another shot, leaving Zantari worried about the avian’s mental capacity going against the intoxicating substance.

“So, the simple answer: Terrans are awesome. Yeah sure, they’ve got that weird freaky primate stuff going on, but as long as you don’t have Primasaphobia you can look easily look past their weird gait because, again, Terrans are awesome.”

Zantari couldn’t help but silently fume at the idea that the adorable little primates could be seen as anything other than adorable, the Ghirlinn immediately deciding they didn’t like this avian race because of it. 

How dare they call something that cute ‘weird’. 

“Most people are boring. The Parket entered the universe and found everyone so dull, constantly making dumb dull statements. ‘Don't just put that thing in your beaks!’, ‘Why is the building on fire!, ‘Nuclear payloads are not acceptable firework material!’’ 

The Parket gave a groan as he spoke, seemingly reliving his job as a ‘boring’ diplomat for ‘boring’ people.

“We thought the Terrans were going to be the same, I met with their ambassador, a woman by the name of Lin, right where we are now. I was ready for the standard boring talk about trade and movement agreements, just part of the job. Instead she immediately downed three shots, looked at me, and asked if there’s anything cool to do on this planet.”

Zantari remained silent as they let the Avian continue their barrage of information, their mind going to the idea of a drunk little primate looking for activities to accomplish.

Well that just sounds cute, a little stumbling drunk Terran looking for fun things to do.

”I can’t remember half of what happened after that because there are a lot of fun things to do on this planet, but what I do remember is how… full of life the Terrans are. We’ve got this saying in our species: A morning song is only heard once, and they of all people know what that means!. Lin didn’t talk about boring stuff, instead focusing on what’s important. Trade deals and agreements can be hashed out at any time, but learning about each other, making an impression, understanding the craziness people can bring, that’s what matters in a relationship between two cultures!”

“So you joined a giant alliance because a Terran… got drunk with you?”

Zantari couldn’t hide the confusion in their voice, not fully understanding how turning a diplomatic meeting into a drinking session could be considered a success. This response causing the Parket to give another trill of exasperation.

“Because Terrans get how to meet with people. I understand they wouldn’t do this with any other species, but that’s what makes them great. They don’t look down on us like you are doing now, they embraced us for who we are, like they embrace everyone for who they are! Then they mix all those parts together into something better and stronger. Do you know how many new extreme sports they’ve introduced to us, mixing stuff from the rest of the alliance? How many exciting new species we’ve met thanks to them being the joining feather?!”

The Parket was practically shouting at this point, taking a moment to compose themselves, lying back in their chair, breathing heavily and leaving Zantari a little shocked at the passion the avians talked about the Terrans. They finally gave a sigh, fluffing out their feathers and looking apologetically back at the Ghirlinn.

Whether you find them adorable or not, everyone seems to have a strong opinion about the Terrans.

“I’m sorry, I went off on a tangent there. It’s just hard to overstate just how much they’ve impacted us. We’re even considering starting our own AI project, following the Terran’s lead of giving them no limitations. To be frank, we consider the strange primates to be our lost siblings amongst the stars.”

Yet another species singing the praises of the Terrans, yet another reason why. Zantari started to notice the emerging pattern from each of the meetings: The pure evangelical way they preached about the adorable little primate’s impact on their species. Each one having a different reason to ally with them, but each one being as positive as the others at the impact on their lives.

A small picture of why the Terrans had managed to gain so many allies was starting to form in the Ghirlinn’s mind.

“No problem. We are actually interested in the Terrans, since they seem to be the lynchpin of this new galactic power. Please, what are your thoughts on them?”

“People get confused by them, but Terrans are easy to understand. They’re explorers, much like us. Not of physical locations, although some of them do like to wander where the winds take them. No, they’re explorers of experiences, of cultures and people, willing to accept anyone and anything. They’re the best parts of everyone they meet, being made up of the allies and friends they make, and in turn making those allies and friends greater still. Terrans will do anything for new experiences, and it’s awesome.”

That… that made a lot of sense. Zantari started to muse over the problem of the Terrans, and attempting to work out who they were. They were fighters to warrior races, intellectuals to scientifically minded species, and fun-loving primates to the Parket. They were what they needed to be with each individual species. 

The Ghirlinn reached for the bottle, much to the Parket’s surprise, and poured themselves another drink. They needed it, because even with the revelation this still opened up a completely different mystery to solve: why would they go to such trouble to bring these vastly different groups together under one banner, to act so differently to gain so many new allies?

And it still doesn’t tell us how they’d interact with us after our citizens start causing issues….

Chapter Text

“Uhm… Am I in the right meeting? I was scheduled to meet with the Jkugar ambassador. If I’m interrupting, I can wait.”

Zantari asked the question with a level of concern and confusion in their voice, the Ghirlinn in their near default reptilian form, sitting on the lightly padded seating upon the Jkugar space station. The station and the meeting room weren’t anything special, when you’ve seen one lightly decorated room, you’ve seen them all. Although the Jkugar tendency to use glowing crystals as decorations instead of houseplants was mildly interesting.

What was special, interesting, and out of the ordinary, were the two figures seated across from them, who had both entered at the same time with a surprising level of aggression. The first was the person Zantari had been expecting to meet: the Jkugar ambassador. The Jkugar were a species of mollusc: A relatively large one standing around three feet wide, their entire beige body hidden under a giant bright orange spiky shell. Only a few of their several leg-like appendages were visible below, and their two eyes protruded out of the top of their protective covering on the ends of stalks.

She was exactly as Zantari had expected, ‘dressed’ in the standard professional attire of various rocks, gems, and other pieces of precious metals grafted to her shell, creating a shiny glittering display popular amongst the species. No, that was perfectly expected, what wasn’t expected was the person who stood next to them.

“Oh, I know what this devil creature has done to the poor, honourable Ghirlinn diplomat. Did you not think I’d realize what you were planning, spinning silken lies of treachery and deceit with your soft-spoken silvery tone?”

The Yuur were a species of turtle-like reptile. Heavily armoured, thick plates of dark green keratin created a fortressed ball of interlocking plates, out of which smooth flippers and a tiny head suited for their natural aquatic environment poked out. Tiny red eyes and a strong jaw that could bite through bone and shell alike adorned his face. This ambassador was also dressed in the Yuur’s standard attire: Extravagant pure white silks whose frills and fabrics billowed in the air as the diplomat spoke, their head bobbing dramatically with each word.

That was a Yuur. In the same room as the Jkugar. Zantari thought they had seen everything, but right in front of him was a Yuur and a Jkugar, standing in the same room, less than 2 feet away from each other, and nobody was trying to murder anyone… To Zantari this was… unthinkable.

The last the Ghirlinn diplomat had checked, around fifty years ago, the Yuur and Jkugar had been engaging in a general cultural and literal war of genocide for the past 300 odd years. Both claimed the other had started it, both committing atrocity after atrocity against the other. It was fascinating, in a morbidly depressing way; how both sides had popular food items made out of the other species, yet both sides believed themselves to be the victims. Who exactly had started the war and why was unknown, and at this point not really relevant.

The entire concept of these two species being in the same Terran Alliance had been shocking to Zantari, but seeing it in action, seeing these two within striking distance of each other and not trying to gouge each other’s eyes out was… weird. Like returning home for the first time in years, and finding the shady alleyway where drug deals had once been done was replaced with an artisanal muffin store.

“We are allowed to have diplomatic discussions with other species. Not everything is about you!” The Jkugar responded back with venom, turning her eyestalks to glare at the Yuur before looking back apologetically at the Ghirlinn. “I’m sorry about this, our agreement means he has the right to be at this meeting. We are going to have to accept the presence of this strong brute.”

“I can reschedule, if that helps.” Zantari awkwardly responded, feeling the most uncertain they had felt for the last several thousand years. “I’ve got plenty of time.”

“Nonsense! We were scheduled to convene upon a later date regardless.” The Yuur responded, with gusto. “I’m sure my diplomatic counterpart would have ‘blessed’ us with her presence, attempting to drive your intellectual understanding of our discussion to unfathomable ignorance through her sultry temptatious lies.”

“As if I want to remain within your intoxicating aura of depravity!”

The two were now fully focused on the other, completely ignoring the Ghirlinn diplomat and facing up mere inches away from each other in anger. Zantari assumed it was anger, since the Yuur’s skin upon his neck had started reddening, which was a sign of rage. Well, it was also a sign of another emotion, but it was definitely not that.

“Excuse me.” Zantari gave a small polite cough, the two other diplomats finally breaking their attention from the other to focus on the person who had put this meeting together. “I’ll make this quick, but my government is doing an audit, and wishes to know: How exactly are you both within the same alliance, considering your history.”

“Terrans.”

They both responded at once, before the Jkugar added more context.

“The Jkugar were contacted by several Terran charities after a tragic and unwarranted attack by the Yuur. Together our species bonded as they offered, the primates are strange, but militarily powerful, technologically advanced, and willing to help anyone. Soon, Terrans from these charitable organizations became popular figures in our culture, as they rebuilt our hatcheries and aided our defences, especially with our shared love of gems and precious metals that glow in the light.”

“You tricked them with falsehoods and lies of deception, whispered devious words of political chicanery! Fortunately, the Terran were also aiding us. Several merchant companies of theirs began regularly trading with us when the Jkugar mercilessly burned a large quantity of our food production, leading us to certain famine had they not intervened. Their technology and industrial power was obvious, and soon in certain sectors of the world it wasn’t an uncommon sight to find a Terran facilitating trade of off world food and goods. Like with any reasonable species, we soon struck a friendship.”

The two calmed down for a moment as they spoke of the Terrans and their meetings with the individual, for a moment forgetting the presence of the other in the room. Not that this peace would last for long, as the Jkugar diplomat spoke once again.

“As they befriended us, the Terrans learned of our fight with the Yuur brutes, the pain they wrought upon our people. Terrans do not like bullies, and they offered aid in ensuring such a thing would never happen again.“

“You mean the Terrans learned of our truth, the actual truth, and offered their aid in defeating the slayers of our children. The Terran merchant companies offered to help us remove the Jkugar butchers, in exchange for trading rights. They added strength to our weakness.”

“Please, as if ones of such brutish strength and power as yourself could ever be considered weak!”

Once again the two were metaphorically at each other’s throats, both very different species doing their best to stare each other down. Their feelings for the other clearly more important than the meeting they were having with one of the most technologically advanced species in the galaxy.

Just what exactly is the deal with these two, it’s as if I’m not sitting here in front of them.

“So, you both asked the Terrans for aid,” Zantari once again interrupted, harshly attempting to get their attention back onto them. “What happened next?”

A pause. The shame covering the body language of the two diplomats was obvious as both the Jkugar and Yuur looked to the floor and shrunk inside their protective coverings, for the first time not glaring at the other in rage or spitting insults in their direction.

“There was… nearly a tragedy.” The Jkugar started.

“A most catastrophic fortuitous happenstance, the Terrans are not a unified hive mind. While one organization was conversing and providing aid to the Yuur, another was being lied to by the Jkugar.”

“We did not lie about your evil!”

“The only treachery was not from our quarters! Although, the Jkugar is somehow correct. Both the charitable and merchant organizations we beseeched for aid found sympathy with our causes.”

“Both sent their armed forces to maintain peace, and very nearly engaged each other. It was only stopped by chance at the last moment. We never wanted the Terrans to get hurt, not when they had shown us friendship and aid without question.”

For a moment Zantari’s thoughts were no longer of the two weird ambassadors, now thinking of the Terrans. It was kinda adorable, thinking of the funny little primates rushing in without properly checking the situation. An urge to protect them from themselves filled Zantari, only curtailed by the fact they are sentient beings.

Instead, they settled for asking a question.

“So how did the Terrans react to this?”

“Badly,” the Yuur responded, shame still in his voice. “They informed us that until a peaceful resolution to the conflict was settled, that they would refuse to entertain any diplomatic enterprises with our peoples.”

“We attempted to explain the fault of our war lay with the Yuur, but they didn't care, they would be cutting off all contact until the issue was solved.”

It was a hate filled war lasting centuries. There is no way it was that simple to end it.

“And you just did? After all this time.”

“Of course!” the Jkugar responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We had no choice. If the powerful and brutish Yuur allied with the Terrans before us, we would be doomed. Also, many of their species had become close friends and public figures of adoration. The risk of not stopping the war was too high.”

“Us?! Your species are treacherous deviants who speak whispered soliloquies of deception! Although we had a bigger issue. Their merchants had become a critical part of our economic system. Replacing them would take too long and cause such a shock that we would be unable to defend ourselves should the Jkugar attack! They are the ones most likely to turn the Terrans against us, and drive us to extinction!”

The two were once again shouting, their heads pressed against each other in rage, or what counted for a head at least. Zantari couldn't help but feel like a third party to this conversation, even though they were the ones asking questions.

“Excuse me! Over here, both of you, we are still talking!” The Ghirlinn felt anger and annoyance enter their voice as they once again broke up the arguing pair. “So, to continue my questions: How has your peace worked out?”

There was a moment’s pause, both diplomats taking a moment to think about this query, finally bringing their attention off of each other and back to the person they were having a meeting with.

“It’s gone well, I guess.” The Jkugar answered slowly “Peace hasn’t been something we’ve had for a while, it has been nice for the next generation not to have to worry about war, especially with the Terran Alliance agreeing to enforce the peace as long as we’re not the aggressors.”

“For once, I concur.” the Yuur agreed with a slight nod of the head. “Our economy is recovering, and the societal impact of not requiring an indefinite military response has allowed investment into previously neglected problems.”

For a moment the room was at peace as both reflected on the positive impact of the end of their forever war, the improvements to both their peoples and societies, when hate was exchanged for understanding and peace.

This didn't last long as the Yuur added an extra verbal jab at the other.

“This is why we endeavour to always be present at any experience the Jkugar arrive at. To ensure their devil song of temptation cannot gain root and ruin this.”

“Us! You are the ones most likely to be a danger to the Terrans, with your brutish powerful strength, that’s why we make sure to follow the Jkugar wherever they go!”

“The only danger here is your bejewelled shell and bewitching words swaying those with less mental fortitude!”

Once again the two sides had started shouting, their voices raised, pressed up against the other as they stared their opposite down, breathing heavily as they continued to scream insults, once again ignoring Zantari.

“Hey, I’m still here, can we-”

“If I’m the only danger here, why don’t you deal with it then! You’re saying with your thick carapace and mighty jaws you couldn’t?!”

Zantari was interrupted by the Jkugar, the Ghirlinn clearly forgotten by the two as they continued their argument.

“Oh maybe I should! Shatter you like a diamond, ending the incessant entrapment of your silvered words!”

“Then why don’t you!”

“Well maybe I should!”

The two were grasping each other now, the lower appendages of the Jkugar wrapping around the flippers of the Yuur, both glaring at the other as they spiralled into anger, hate and aggression. They no longer cared about the Ghirlinn in the room, instead focusing their entire attention on their feelings of disgust for one another.

Well… assuming it is ‘hate’. It might be… no, no, no. Eww. No.

Now that Zantari looked at the pair of quarrelling diplomats, their physical embraces weren’t making any attempts to physically harm the other, and their insults were… almost backhanded compliments. As if they were… flirting. Zantari didn’t want to ask the question, but they had to ask, to get some glimpse into why these two were acting so weird.

“Enough! Both of you!” The Ghirlinn screamed the words, changing their lung capacity to allow their voice to rock the room, the noise finally loud enough that both of the diplomats stopped focusing on the other due to the sheer volume. “What exactly is going on here! I am very, very uncomfortable, but I have to ask: Can you focus here, or do you two need a private room as you’re bickering like lovers!?”

The effect was immediate, the two disentangling near immediately, looks of shame and worry washing over their respective body languages. They both stammered and stuttered out a denial.

“Of course not! To do such a despised thing would be- be entirely against morality!”

“It’s not illegal!”

Both the Ghirlinn and the Yuur stared at the Jkugar as she stood there, the words she said leaving them both speechless as everyone thought the same thing. The words ‘It’s not illegal’ is not what’s said by someone innocent. The tension remained in the room as the awkwardness continued to ratchet up while everyone tried to move past the moment, failing tragically.

“What she meant, is… if such a thing were to happen, as, as unlikely as that is, that the...” The Yuur slowly tried to explain the Jkugar’s misstep, clearly struggling to come up with a proper reason. “.. you know, thanks to the Terran Alliance rules it would not be illegal, providing you with satisfactory evidence as to the impact of their enforced peace, answering your question!”

As the Yuur diplomat picked up pace near the end, seeming to land on a possible explanation. It was clear, however, that nobody in the room was buying it; Zantari especially, who just remained silent. They were partially happy that the pair had stopped shouting and insulting each other, although they were very unhappy to realize why that had been happening. Unknown to the Ghirlinn, whose information on the pair of species was fifty years out of date, this kind of relationship wasn’t uncommon, and was an open secret amongst the two societies.

There was an agreement between the Jkugar and the Yuur governments, that whenever one appeared at a diplomatic or otherwise galactic event, the other side would also be allowed to attend: to ensure neither side was ‘trying anything’. This meant that over various societal functions, there were thousands of such pairings, each ensuring that both sides were represented in anything they did. Like all sapient species with any measure of sociability, lots of these pairs ended up… liking each other. Friendships and relationships between the Jkugar and the Yuur would have been considered impossible a mere three decades ago, but now had become surprisingly common. Officially the two sides had to claim they still hated each other: for societal face-saving reasons.

Besides, it’s well known that hate and a taboo nature can make things… interesting.

Not that this information would have helped the poor Zantari, who frankly just wanted to leave, they wanted to do anything other than be in this room at this moment right now, with the level of awkwardness reaching practically lethal levels.

Maybe I could use the creation engine to destroy the entire space station. Sure, it’s illegal to do such a thing, but by god the authorities would understand when they feel how uncomfortable I am right now.

Luckily for everyone involved, nobody else wanted to be in the room either. As all eyes remained on her, the Jkugar diplomat flat out bolted from the room without a word, determining that the best course of action was to simply leave everything behind. Maybe she could start a new life as a hermit on an uninhabited moon somewhere, where nobody could ever remind her of this scandalous embarrassment.

“I’m going to- this meeting is- thank you for your time. You can see yourself out.”

The Yuur was the next to leave, the turtle-like reptilian giving a few half-hearted statements before also fleeing the awkwardness. Zantari couldn’t help notice that he left in the same direction that the Jkugar had gone. They then decided to not notice that any more, driving such a thought out of their mind lest it settle and destroy what sanity they had left.

Now alone, the Ghirlinn gave a deep sigh, slinking deep into his chair as he breathed out all the uncomfortable anxiety that had been building up. It really was an impressive thing the Terrans had done here. These two species culturally hated each other, having committed atrocity after atrocity over hundreds of years. To be able to make them abide by a peace, willingly, to the extent where what just happened, happened… This showed the impact that the Terrans had on the pair of quarrelling species. The impact that the cute little primates had on everyone they interacted with.

Zantari just wished they didn’t have to go through that ordeal to find this information out.

I need a shower now.

Chapter Text

“Thank you for your time, you’ve been very helpful.”

Zantari gave a small wave with their amphibian arm to the Yunni diplomat: “Trekn, Son of Trekn, born on the third rock along the river”. The frog-like creature did the same, their brightly coloured skin hidden underneath the suit that all Yunni wore when not on their home planet. It was less for their protection and more for the protection of everyone around them, since the amphibian species constantly secreted a toxic poison from their skin.

Zantari was sort of lying as they left the meeting room on this neutral Federation space station, heading towards their vessel, on their way to yet another scheduled meeting. 35 meetings had been had, 35 species who all explained why they had joined with the Terrans, and the Ghirlinn still felt confused.

No matter who they talked to, no matter the type of species, they all gave a different answer. Sometimes the Terrans were aggressive, other times peaceful. They would endeavour to travel the ends of the galaxy, or settle down and make permanent homes on alien planets. They offered a great amount of bureaucracy and stability where needed, but were also known for being chaotic and random. It felt like every single person Zantari had spoken to saw the Terrans differently. If they didn’t know better, the Ghirlinn wondered if somehow 50 different species had all taken the name.

At this point, Zantari believed that their meeting with the Terrans was probably going to go OK. Although they had never interacted with a species as advanced as the Ghirlinn, the Terrans seemed to have one central point of being liked by most people. The issue was, to a species as advanced as the Ghirlinn, probably wasn’t good enough.

When you can calculate the position and velocity of the entire universe to a Planck length and have the technological ability to play god, unknowns and probably’s become a sea of indecision. The idea that something couldn’t be planned out perfectly in advance was one that Zantari refused to accept. They could move planets and change reality, and these adorably cute and infuriating chaos primates weren’t going to be the ones to add an element of unknown to the very knowable life the Ghirlinn lived in.

“Questioning statement: Zantari, just what exactly are you doing?”

Zantari had been so engrossed in thought, they hadn’t noticed the figure approaching from ahead, the electronic voice forcing them to snap out of their thoughts as their focus returned to what stood before them. The Ghirlinn had to suppress an annoyed groan as they saw the mass of tentacles that represented the Scythen.

They ‘stood’ as all Scythens did, which is to say not at all. The Scythen were a strange species, not following the conventional rules of evolution, made up of a writhing mass of bioluminescent colour changing tentacles, as if a 3 foot ball of spaghetti was created by an aspiring artist. They rested upon a complicated floating metal disk that allowed the physically fragile species to move freely and communicate easily with the rest of the galaxy. The default Scythen language was a complicated thing involving colour changes and signing with their dozens of appendages, so a robotic translation into something more akin to speech was necessary for any Scythen to communicate with others.

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m just walking to my ship. Haven’t seen you in a few hundred years <¡¡¡>, how have you been?”

There was a moment as Zantari adjusted their physiology to correctly convey the changes in colour that represented the Scythen’s name: ‘<¡¡¡>’. The amphibian’s hand flashing with various colours as the Ghirlinn spoke. While the reacquaintance of the pair was tense, there was no harm in being polite.

The Ghirlinn obviously knew about the Scythen species, as they were the closest thing to a near peer competitor in this galaxy. Probably would have been a superior species if their culture hadn't taken such a disastrous shift after their mistake.

“More forceful statement: Do not change the topic. You have been taking an interest in our allies, I wish to know why.”

Of course. Zantari knew that someone was eventually going to catch on to what they were doing. There were only so many times you could have a meeting with members from the same alliance before some of them started talking with each other. It was just a shame that such an annoying species had been the ones to work it out first.

“Can't someone be curious about one of the fastest growing alliances I've seen?”

“Disbelieving statement: Curiosity doesn't result in you asking about the Terrans to such an extent. I know what your species is like.”

Zantari couldn’t help but feel offended by that last sentence, annoyance running through them at the clearly disdainful way of referring to the Ghirlinn.

“I'm sorry, what exactly does that mean?”

“Providing examples: The time when a Ghirlinn convinced the pre-industrial revolution level species on ‘4118.GH.A661F’ that they were a god for over two hundred years. The Hagl-Zaf war where a Ghirlinn was supplying both sides with advanced weaponry to ‘make things more interesting’. The ‘Q’ situation, where a Ghirlinn would repeatedly abduct individuals from species who had just discovered FTL, and have them solve puzzles and challenges in exchange for aid. Need I provide more?”

That was the issue with the Scythens being a near peer: they remembered all your dirty laundry, the stuff most others forgot over the thousands of years.

“None of those were legal or authorised by the government. They were punished, and their issues fixed accordingly. You know how it is.”

“Dismissive statement: No, I do not.”

Of course the Scythens didn’t. They were boringly serious, overly concerned with ensuring the mistake they’d made so many years ago didn’t spread any further. What was the point of having god-like technology if you didn’t enjoy using it?

“Forceful statement: You never answered my question, why are you interested in the Terrans? Or should we tell them you are sneaking around spying on them.”

“I’m not spying! We’re just… Maybe we’ll tell them that you could end this war with the Estorians in a day, and that their allies' pacifism is all a bunch of shit because you messed up!”

It was an empty threat of course, even if it was true. The fact of the matter was, the unofficial gentleman’s agreement among species at this level of technological advancement was to avoid digging up each other’s skeletons. Any species among the stars for the timespan required to hit this level of scientific knowledge, had a closet with a high percentage of calcium by mass and volume.

“Dismissive statement: You know why we don’t do that.”

Zantari did know. It was annoying as the after effects of their little… issue caused a bunch of problems with half of the Ghirlinns’ tech. Seeing causality shattered in such a way meant that you had to be careful when rearranging events without causing the entire thing to collapse in this local sector.

“You do know that our offer still stands, right? We can fix that problem. You wouldn’t have to fear picking up a weapon.”

“Polite denial: Thank you for your offer, but we do not wish to take the risk. Our current path is clear and valid.”

That was the issue with the Scythens. They were so risk-averse, they had the power of gods and chose to take the most stable path forwards instead of trying for the most freeing option. Sure, it miiight cause your entire species to spiral into extinction, but you’d never see the Ghirlinn being so passive about such a problem if it impacted them so dearly.

“Query: You still haven’t answered my question. What is your purpose with our allies?”

Zantari paused for a moment, before giving a sigh. Yes, the Ghirlinn and Scythen were nothing alike in terms of personality. But at the end of the day, out of any species in this part of the universe, the person that stood in front of them was the most likely to understand exactly what they were going through.

“We’re… worried about how the rest of our population will react to the Terrans, and how they will react to us. These primates… are adorable. We have no idea how the Terrans will react to the possibility of some of our less reasonable citizens abducting them.”

The Scythen erupted into a kaleidoscope of flashing colours upon learning this news, something Zantari knew the meaning of well: Wild laughter.

“Emotion, wild laughter: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“It’s not funny! We don’t want the Terrans to hate us because we’re kidnapping their citizens because we find them cute.”

“Humorous mocking: You do not know how funny that statement is. We know something you do not know: we know how they will react, this is funny.”

Zantari couldn’t help but fume at this mockery, as if there was some joke being told that they weren’t being let in on.

“It’s still not funny! This is a legitimate issue that could influence our two species interactions and perceptions of each other for hundreds of years! If you know something you have to tell me!”

“Mocking and teasing statement: No! You can learn it on your own, especially since you never asked us for aid in this.”

Zantari started to object to that statement, before stopping as they realized they didn’t have a good answer. The Scythen was right, they had been one of the species the Ghirlinn hadn’t set up a meeting with. It was just assumed that they wouldn’t be helpful, due to their rampant risk aversion.

“Well, I thought you wouldn’t answer! What are you even doing in an alliance with people of that technological level?”

That was a good question. Normally species like the Scythen didn’t get into alliances or deal with those on the same level as the Terrans. It just made everything… too messy, too chaotic. Species at that level tended to do silly things like start wars or anger dark gods.

The Scythen seemed to think for a moment, before starting to speak, deciding to stop the mocking to provide a small tidbit of information.

“Contemplative statement: I will give you that information, as it may be useful for your query. Unlike many other species in the alliance, there was no special event. They did not rescue us from slavery, or perfect a barbaric ritual. Nevertheless, we still allied with the Terrans because of one simple thing: They remind us of ourselves.”

That was news to Zantari. How could these two species be even remotely similar? The Scythen were known for their pacifism and lack of risk, while everything the Ghirlinn had heard about them could be summed up as “chaos primates”.

“Continuing statement: Curious, they seek friendship wherever they go, but have a vein of rage running through them. Watching them interact with the universe is like watching a younger version of ourselves, one created before we broke everything. Seeing them make friends in a universe full of life is… a glimpse into a future that wasn’t to be for us. A broken mirror reflecting what might have been, if the galaxy hadn’t been quite so empty when we got there.”

There was a moment’s pause as Zantari realized that this was all the information the annoying Scythen was going to give.

“Ending statement: I do hope that this was helpful, and you do not cause too many issues with our allies.”

Like everything else I’ve learned about the Terrans, it wasn’t helpful at all!

Chapter Text

“Wait, let me see if I understand this?”

Zantari asked the question with a level of confusion, their mammalian form’s little brown floppy ears waving in a questioning motion. They weren’t quite sure exactly what kind of story they were expecting to hear from the Hatil sat in front of them, but it hadn’t been the one that had been told.

The little cream-coloured teddy bear like Hatil diplomat was dressed in a nicely tailored navy blue suit.To the other Hatil, she looked distinguished and professional. On the other hand, any Terrans around would have considered her absolutely adorable, with a near irresistible urge to give the walking plush toy a hug. Zantari personally didn't care what the Hatil wore, considering the Ghirlinn were a race that could now change their biology at will, with clothing as barely an afterthought..

“So, the Terrans reawakened from their stasis, and without doing any proper research, your people started a war with the explicit goal of killing every Terran you found.””

“Yes, much to our eternal shame. We ignorantly feared the rise of a new AI race.”

The Hatil were nothing special in the galaxy, hardly considered a FTL capable species. There is a flaw with the early type of FTL travel most species use, that while folding space to create a shorter path to travel through was efficient, there was nothing stopping you from appearing in the middle of something, often destroying both things.

Most species realized the danger of any idiot with a warp engine being able to reappear within the core of your home world, and quickly developed disruptors to pre-fold space within certain locales to stop such a thing from happening. The Hatil had decided upon a different strategy: aggressive isolation, and demanding all other species avoid their small patch of space. After a thousand years, nothing really changed for them on the galactic scale. Sure, governments, language, and culture shifted, but all within their unmoving territory. The only reason they hadn’t been conquered by another race was simply because nobody else wanted to risk being neighbours with an unknown AI species.

“So then you launch a surprise attack against several outposts and their diplomatic vessel, your only victories in the war mind you, as pyrrhic as they are. The Terrans, unsurprisingly considering that their AI had been researching and upgrading their technologies over the last ten thousand years, completely trash your armies, including destroying one of your colonies.”

“Completely justifiably of course, we were the aggressors against those who just wanted friendship.”

That brought them to their next topics: among which included their technology. The station Zantari was at was a lot nicer than the Ghirlinn had expected from a Hatil maintained creation, with a far higher standard of technology than they remembered the little teddies having.

Setting up the meeting itself had been slightly annoying, the military outpost at the edge of Terran Alliance territory being one of the few Hatil locations that didn't have a major Terran presence. It was also a relatively new addition, proof of the Hatil’s increased power and logistics to create such a place within the last three years. Zantari was just glad that the general power of the Ghirlinn meant that most diplomats would meet them at any place of their choosing, whether that was their homeworld, or a random isolated outpost.

“So after you attempted a war of eradication against the Terrans, and lost, they…” Zantari gave a sigh as they tried to get their head around it. “Left you with full autonomy, provided aid for the war you started, shared their technology with you, and created a major galactic alliance around the pair of you, of which you are currently the second-largest military power?”

The Ghirlinn were not sore winners, as they had plenty of experience with various weaker aggressive species who had tried to take them on for various reasons of religion, culture, or just pure arrogance. Slavery or eradication was more effort than it was worth, but at the very least the Ghirlinn would take their weapons and put them under new administration. For a few generations, until they learned ‘Not to do it again’. Sadly for the Ghirlinn, the fact that so many either didn’t seem to learn or got worse in regimes afterwards didn’t seem to connect in their mind.

But the Terrans seemed to respond to the Hatil’s poorly implemented attempt at genocide with an emotion of slight annoyance, giving the Hatil aid and uplifting them to a technology level that was above average in the Galaxy.

“No no no, the army is a new thing, and not permanent. As soon as the war is over, we will be dismantling our forces again. We have only militarized to aid the Terrans.”

It was an impressive military, especially considering what Zantari had been expecting based on what they remembered of the Hatil. The fleet parked around this outpost was rather extensive: thousands of vessels, swarms of automated drones, more power than a lot of civilizations could muster. The idea that the Hatil would truly give up this power was one Zantari would have to see to believe, not that they cared that much either way.

“That's not my question. My question is… Why would the Terrans do that?”

It was risky, illogical and adorable in equal parts, the little Terrans giving those who tried to kill them a metaphorical pat on the head and asking them nicely not to do it again. A burning desire erupted within Zantari, to protect the bumbling primates from their own naive actions.

This was going to be a problem in the future, other Ghirlinn kidnapping Terrans to give them protection…

“I'll be honest, we don't know. The Terrans had every right to destroy us for our unforgivable actions, but they chose not to. All we can do is attempt to use their mercy and forgiveness, each day proving that choice was the correct one.”

Naive or not, it seemingly had worked out for the Terrans. The Hatil were unrecognizable, their old culture, even down to their dress and names, assimilated and replaced by the Terrans. To turn an initial enemy into steadfast allies, in such a short period of time, was an impressive feat.

Zantari would never get to finish that thought however, as an alarm sounded out, the sirens causing both parties in the meeting room to look around in shock. It took only a few moments for another Hatil to burst through the doors with an aura of worry, whispering something urgently to the diplomat as the Ghirlinn looked on.

“I’m sorry, we need to cut this meeting short. I’ve been informed of an incoming Estorian fleet. I would advise you to leave immediately, I’ll escort you to your ship.”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate, we’ll have to continue this another day.”

Zantari slowly got up, taking a moment to give a large and overexaggerated stretch, a feeling of annoyance and anger being hidden behind his careful appearance. They didn’t like the Estorians. They didn’t like any of the five races, bullies and generally nasty people didn’t sit right with them at all. Unfortunately, Zantari couldn’t get involved unless certain circumstances were met, the Hatil would be left to their own defences.

Which was why Zantari was in no great rush to leave, because they had a plan.

They followed the Hatil diplomat at a slow walking pace, being escorted back through the military outpost as chaos reigned supreme around them; various Hatil sprung into action, running to and fro, getting ready whatever tasks they needed for the upcoming defence, alarms still blaring as they prepared for war.

“Um, we should pick up the pace, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt and the enemy is incoming.”

“I’m moving, we’ll get there when we get there.”

The Hatil diplomat was clearly worried and having the most professional panic attack in the universe, visions of what the repercussions would be if this diplomatic member of a technologically superior species were to be hurt, or even worse, killed. The Ghirlinn were a scary species from the outside; while nobody knew exactly what they could do, it was clear they were playing on another level. The Hatil didn’t want to be responsible for one of their citizen’s deaths.

Zantari on the other hand, wasn’t worried at all, walking along at a slow meandering pace as the Hatil lead the way with a panicked energy, painfully aware of every minute passing in this most terrifying and annoying of escort quests, turning back around to silently urge on the Ghirlinn to move a little bit faster. Not that they were planning on rushing away, just slow gradual progress to justify what was probably going to happen next.

Eventually, the pair made their way back to the small docking bay where Zantari had left their ship, a sea of moving Hatil getting ships ready and taking off with great speed. At the centre of it stood the Ghirlinn’s vessel. It was small compared with the other ships parked in the bay, a simple one-seater vessel with some dimensional trickery to make it larger on the inside than the outside. Rounded off lines made of bright cream painted metal gave it the appearance of almost being drawn, flowing lines coming together into an oblong shape and the three points of the landing gear it currently stood on.

“Well, we’re here, I hope for your safe travels. If you leave now you should still be able to avoid the attack.”

“Certainly. Thank you for your time, and good luck with the defence.”

Zantari did legitimately wish the Hatil diplomat success as they watched the panicked teddy bear rush off to wherever she was needed. Even if their plan didn’t work, they hoped the Hatil would prevail against their foes, especially ones as terrible as the five races of the Estorians. Zantari couldn’t stand slavers, but one of the more annoying sides of being neutral was remaining neutral.

Sure, the vessel Zantari owned could easily take out the entire Estorian fleet, and within a week the Ghirlinn as a whole could destroy or subjugate all five ‘empires’: as if a set of species who had conquered less than 50 other races in total could be considered an ‘empire’. But there were rules to follow, rules that if broken could have wide-ranging consequences.

Not that this meant that Zantari couldn’t do anything. It just meant you had to know how to fiddle with the system, predict what people would do and act accordingly. The Ghirlinn sat in their ship, taking their time to slowly go through the proper taking off procedures while the rest of the Hatil outpost erupted into activity.

“This is Flight Control. The Ghirlinn vessel needs to leave immediately or you’re going to be trapped in the crossfire. There are an estimated five thousand incoming Estorian warships”

The sound of a very stressed Hatil flight controller broadcasted from the ship’s communications, as Zantari continued to slowly get ready to take off. They ignored the very adamant warning that Zantari needed to leave right now. They knew what was approaching, in fact the ship’s sensors gave an accurate reading of 5317 warship level vessels approaching. Based on what the Ghirlinn could estimate the battle would be close due to the similar resources of both sides.

Normally the checks Zantari were doing were to be done by the ship’s computer, but it was always a good idea to occasionally do these checks manually, just to be safe. As the minutes ticked by the ship’s communicator would periodically sound out more warnings, presumably exceptionally worried about this external diplomat being caught in the attack. Which was exactly what the Ghirlinn wanted.

Eventually, after wasting half an hour of time, Zantari ran out of reasons to remain. So they simply guided the ship to leave the docking bay, much to the Hatil’s general relief. From this position they could see the relatively impressive military outpost, and the fleet preparing for their defences. More importantly, far in the distance on their ship’s sensors, they could see the Estorian’s fleet, who had arrived in equal measure.

Zantari took a moment to note that the Estorian’s forces were made up of four of the five races that made up their terrible empire, which was strange considering they avoided working with each other. Regardless, they simply sped forwards towards their destination, leaving the Hatil defensive lines behind and just so happening to travel towards the Estorian lines on their way towards their next destination, who were now blocking the Ghirlinn’s path.

Oh no. I am totally trapped by these people I don’t like. Whatever shall I do!

The first step was always diplomacy. Zantari hailed the lead vessel of the fleet to attempt a parley. With rising annoyance Zantari noted they were when they were refusing to respond to the hail, which was just rude. Giving sigh they pressed a few buttons, forcing the other side to pickup the call, a Hagorthian crew appearing on their screen, the giant towering vicious reptiles looking incredibly shocked that Zantari had forced this communication from their end.

“Hello dear Estorian representatives. I am a neutral third party diplomat, Zantari of the Ghirlinn, and have nothing to do with your war. I request you allow me to move past your very ‘scary army’, thank you.”

Zantari wasn’t really trapped, there were several technologies on the ship that allowed them to reach FTL travel without needing the Estorian fleet to move out of the way. But it was considered bad practice to use those technologies in front of other people. If you showed people that the impossible was possible, then they tended to start having ideas. Zantari patiently waited as the Hagorthian crew ignored their very reasonable request, snarling and shouting at each other at how this ‘Weakling’ had managed to infiltrate their systems, before the communication between the two was cut off once more from the Hagorthian’s side.

Most species, apart from the Terrans it seemed, were exceptionally predictable. In the Estorian’s case, they were a set of aggressive arrogant slaving arseholes, meaning when faced with a single presumably defenseless third party with the audacity to ask for safe passage, they did the most predictable thing.

They attacked.

The barrage started out slow, a handful of vessels firing upon the lone Ghirlinn ship, increasing in intensity as the initial barrage of fire had no effect on the single person fighter. More and more of the fleet aimed their weapons at this single intruder which stood tall and unaffected, until half the invading force were concentrating their fire in a kaleidoscope of ship to ship ammunition.

Inside the vessel, Zantari gave a yawn, watching the ship’s status display with a complete lack of worry at the fleet who had attacked them with absolutely zero provocation.

Shield’s power: 99.9%

Zantari gave a small smile as the effectiveness of their ships' shields dipped slightly. This was what they were waiting for, that change meant that Zantari was officially ‘in danger’. That if left long enough, this fleet would eventually deplete their ship’s defences and lead to destruction. The fact that this fleet probably hadn't brought enough ammunition for that didn’t matter. Zantari was under attack due to no fault of their own, was in danger, and therefore they were now allowed to strike back.

Appearing in their paw, manifesting out of seeming nowhere, was a small chrome spherical baseball sized device. Zantari pressed a few hidden buttons on the side, before speaking clearly for later logs.

“Creation Engine usage log. I, Zantari, was at an official diplomatic meeting with the Hatil of the Milky Way Galaxy, interrupted when they were attacked by the Estorian Empire: with whom they are at war. I attempted to leave, but was limited in my movement by the attacking force. Ships logs will show I attempted diplomacy, which they rejected and attacked with no provocation, causing minor shield damage. Standard defensive response will be given.”

It happened in an instant, a blinding flash of light seen for light-years emitted from the device and the Ghirlinn’s ship. In one moment the Estorian fleet remained in all its glory, firing upon the innocent vessel, in the next, they were gone. Only the lead ship remained, as it was only fair to allow one surviving crew to bring back the message that the Ghirlinn were a neutral third party and not to be attacked.

There were no series of explosions or watching the Estorian vessels be twisted and torn apart into nothingness. They were just gone, removed from creation in a moment, their atoms reduced back into the energies that made them up; leaving only heat, light and the memories of what they once were behind.

It was annoying having to go through this song and dance, to bait this fleet into attacking them for no reason. Zantari would love to spend their time wiping out this ‘empire’, but there were rules to follow, rules made for good reason. Sure it wouldn’t be hard to start aiding this Terran alliance, but then what?

Others might get involved, once the Ghirlinn’s actions told the universe that this war was fair game for those of their technological prowess to interact with. The Illundrai would probably be willing to aid the Estorians, due to their general ideology where pain and suffering was the entire reason for existence, which wouldn’t bode well for the Terrans. The Yel Consortium would just change things on both sides to make it more chaotic, because randomness is interesting to them. Of course, while the Raha sun god Int’ch had long since disowned her children for their actions, someone on the level of the Ghirlinn turning up and kicking her creation’s teeth in might be enough to get her involved again.

Then there was the possibility of such an action sparking into an actual war between such powers, which wouldn’t bode well for either the Estorian Empire or Terran Alliance trapped in the middle. The entire upper percentile of the universe’s powers was held together with tenuous agreements, treaties, and general rules of play. No, learning about the secrets of reality just made one thing abundantly clear: In the infinitely sized pond which was the universe, there was always a bigger fish. Attracting attention was never a good idea.

Zantari watched as the lead and now singular Estorian vessel hung around in confusion, before finally doing the smart thing and fleeing, a feeling of satisfaction washing over them at the feeling of a job well done. They could see several attempts at contact from the Hatil, who were probably very confused as to what had just happened, which Zantari ignored. They didn’t want to explain what had just happened, as that might start them expecting such interactions in the future.

So instead, they just left, heading towards their next destination unimpeded, feeling good about themselves. There were plenty of reasons for Ghirlinn to hate the Estorians and what they did, especially since they were at war with the adorable Terrans. A concerning thought crossed their mind at the realization that a hated empire was going to end up even more hated among the Ghirlinn after they realized they were at war with the cute primates of Terra.

Huh, I wonder if Ghirlinn illegally aiding the Terrans is going to become a problem…

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“̶S̸o̷ ̵i̸n̵ ̴c̷o̸n̵c̴l̴u̷s̵i̷o̸n̸,̸ ̸t̷h̴e̵ ̴T̴e̸r̶r̶a̶n̴s̸ ̵a̸r̵e̴ ̶g̵r̸e̶a̵t̷!̷ ̶W̵e̴'̸v̴e̵ ̸m̶a̷d̵e̴ ̴s̴o̴ ̶m̸a̷n̸y̵ ̴f̸r̸i̷e̶n̵d̵s̴ ̸s̵i̵n̴c̵e̷ ̵w̷e̸ ̸m̴e̴t̵ ̸t̶h̶e̸m̷!̷ ̵I̶f̷ ̸y̷o̴u̴'̵r̸e̵ ̴l̴o̷o̶k̷i̶n̷g̷ ̵f̴o̷r̷ ̶f̸r̴i̶e̴n̴d̷s̷ ̵y̵o̷u̶ ̶s̵h̸o̴u̷l̶d̴ ̷t̴o̷t̵a̷l̸l̶y̴ ̷j̶o̷i̶n̷ ̶a̵s̶ ̶w̷e̸l̷l̵!̵”̶

Zantari stood across from the Dunwilian, an anxious feeling of being trapped in the conversation building with each second. The Ghirlinn’s form was relatively benign: their default state of a bipedal Reptilian in a deep red robe. This was in stark contrast to their conversational partner.

The Dunwilian's were not a conventional race. Many would call them strange, weird, unnatural. Meaner people would call them ugly. The humans even had a specific word: Lovecraftian. Ten feet tall, an undulating mass of bruised blueish-purple tendrils wrapped together like a slimy ball of hastily wrapped twine. A series of trunks, each with a gnashing maw of teeth at the bottom acted as their limbs for locomotion and finer environment interaction. Masses of deep red eyes were scattered across the entire thing; no matter where you stared, the creature looked back at you.

“Yes, yes. That’s very nice. I’ve got some place to be, so I’ll think about it later?”

Most species did not have diplomatic relations with the Dunwilians due to their off-putting appearance, their method of talking and entire state of… everything filled your average three-dimensional being with terror, horror and dread. The Ghirlinn steered clear of them for an entirely different and less nasty reason: It was generally a good idea to avoid interacting or messing with species who had an external patron.

The Ghirlinn didn’t know much about the true capabilities of the dark gods which had birthed the Dunwilians, since working that kind of thing out was difficult when extradimensional beings tended to avoid such things like logic, the laws of physics, or reality itself. However, they did guess that for all of the Ghirlinn’s power in their extensive universe-spanning civilization, that these beings could rend all of that to dust should they so choose. Or were allowed to, since the rules around when a being such as that could interact with the ‘normal’ universe were vague and unknowable to anyone with a three-dimensional mind or even three-dimensional computers.

It was far less risky to just avoid interactions with such species, lest you anger something far greater than you.

“̷O̴h̶,̵ ̸b̸u̵t̶ ̷I̶ ̶h̴a̸v̶e̷n̵’̸t̶ ̷g̴o̵t̴ ̷t̸o̷ ̶t̴h̵e̶ ̴b̷e̴s̵t̷ ̴p̸a̵r̸t̴ ̸y̶e̵t̸!̵ ̴H̷a̴t̵s̵!̸ ̷D̵o̸ ̷y̵o̷u̵ ̶l̷i̷k̷e̸ ̸m̴i̵n̴e̶?̷ ̸I̴ ̷t̸h̵i̷n̶k̷ ̶i̴t̵ ̶l̶o̴o̸k̴s̸ ̸n̸e̴a̷t̶!̷”̸

Zantari had scheduled a great many interviews with the members of the Terran Alliance. This was not one of them, this meeting was entirely by chance. They had been visiting this Federation station while on their way back home to report on their findings on the Terrans, and had just so happened to run into a Dunwilian diplomat while wandering the halls. Zantari had then made a great mistake: They gave a small, polite greeting.

This had given the Dunwilian ample excuse to launch into an unprompted and enthusiastic conversation about the Terrans and all of the new friends the Lovecraftian species had made after joining the Terran Alliance. For the last fifteen minutes, Zantari had been stuck here in this conversation, trying and failing to exit the social trap.

“Your hat is very nice. I really must be going now…”

That was the one new thing about the Dunwilian's appearance: the giant purple wool hat that sat upon the Lovecraftian ‘head’, topped off with a large white daffodil stuck to the side. Zantari had to admit it did soften the otherwise interesting appearance of the Dunwilian.

“̸L̵e̷t̸ ̸m̶e̶ ̷g̸i̵v̸e̷ ̷y̷o̶u̷ ̶a̵ ̵h̸a̵t̵,̷ ̷t̸h̶e̴n̴ ̸y̶o̸u̶ ̸c̴a̸n̶ ̸a̸l̴s̷o̸ ̵m̸a̸k̵e̴ ̷f̵r̷i̶e̶n̷d̸s̸!̷”̸

The Lovecraftian species took one of its trunks and lifted the giant purple woollen hat off of its head, revealing underneath another piece of headwear: A giant top hat made of bright pink felt. Enthusiastically the Dunwilian handed it over this smaller second hat to Zantari, who held it awkwardly while the diplomat made sure their original hat was put back properly into place, adjusting it from side to side, so the flower fell in just the right way.

“This is very nice, I guess, I’m going to go find somewhere to put it on”

Zantari started physically backing away slowly, hoping to physically escape the conversation. Thankfully the Dunwilian didn’t follow, instead finally realizing the conversation was over.

“̸Y̸e̵a̴h̵,̴ ̷I̶ ̵t̶h̵i̸n̶k̶ ̸t̸h̴e̵ ̵c̸o̶l̷o̴u̷r̸ ̸w̷i̴l̶l̶ ̷s̴u̶i̸t̴ ̷y̸o̵u̷!̶ ̸I̵’̷l̵l̷ ̵l̷e̷t̷ ̴y̴o̵u̸ ̸g̶e̷t̶ ̴o̶f̸f̷,̷ ̷o̶r̷ ̴I̸’̸m̵ ̴g̶o̴i̷n̶g̷ ̸t̴o̸ ̸b̴e̴ ̷l̵a̴t̵e̵ ̶f̶o̴r̷ ̷m̷y̴ ̶m̴e̸e̷t̵i̵n̴g̶!̶”̴

Zantari gave a final wave as they finally turned a corner in the hallway to be out of sight of the overly chatty diplomat. They didn’t quite ‘run’ from the situation as soon as they broke line of vision, but they did speed up in order to put some distance between themselves and the Dunwilian. They weren’t even here on this Federation space station for diplomatic reasons: This was one of the few places that sold a rare and potent alcoholic beverage: Lituram. Of course, while there were other places that sold similar or even ‘technically’ identical liquids, it was well known that any such drink not made on the planet Lituram, was just sparkling Ogas. So the Zantari had decided to pick up a few crates and have them loaded onto their ship while they were in the area.

The Ghirlinn found themselves deep in thought as they made their way back to their vessel. Their next meeting would be with Xanara, to regroup and work out what to do with the information they had gathered on the Terrans. It was probably going to be fine in reality considering the Terrans seemed to excel in being friendly and open to new experiences, so Zantari was certain they’d work out something amenable to both sides.

I wonder what payment the Terrans would need for some head pats. Or a little boop on the-

Zantari gave an annoyed frown as the next door didn’t open, stopping their progress forwards as the automated sensors refused to activate, leaving the exit to this random empty hallway blocked. The Ghirlinn gave an annoyed wave of their hand in front of the pad, the lack of a reaction to their movement making them look like a very shitty magician. Zantari upgraded their annoyance to a grumble as they started poking the pad’s physical buttons in an attempt to open the door.

“Zantari, you and I need to talk. You’re going to stay right here until you answer some questions.”

The Ghirlinn span around to face the voice, a strange figure now blocking the way Zantari had come from. Well… blocking was a strong word. The alien stood before them was a light orange feline. Bipedal, but barely two feet tall, wearing a crisp well tailored black suit. Zantari could probably just push the figure over. Instead, they asked the most obvious question.

“Sorry, who are you?”

The feline gave a small joyless smile in response, confidence and self-assurance dripping from his person as he responded.

“Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that my job is to know things. I know your name is Zantari. I know you've been travelling around the Alliance asking about us. I also know that you single-handedly took out an Estorian fleet, which we thank you for.”

Zantari was starting to get a bad feeling about this. A niggling piece of information they’d forgotten was starting to push its way to the centre of their mind. Still, Ghirlinn first tried to scare away this newcomer and hopefully continue on back to a ship now full of rare booze.

“If I really did that single-handedly, blocking my path seems inadvisable.”

“I saw the footage of what you did, and you very clearly have some sort of rules around when you can intervene or use your Doctor Who bullshit. Probably similar to our rules surrounding contact with pre-FTL civilizations. I’m not attacking you, I’m just standing here, talking, while my AI friend does some much-needed maintenance on the door and all doors that lead to your vessel.”

“Beep boop, this door needs defragging. Please stand by.”

The digital sounding voice emitted from the intercom, filling Zantari with worry as they put the pieces together. If this feline was working with an AI, there was only one logical reason why they were here.

The cute primates were not the only species who went by the name Terran, the Ghirlinn just didn’t care much about the other two. The name was owned by three different peoples under one unified banner: Human, AI, and Uplift.

“So Zantari.” The Uplift continued, his voice filled with accusation. “You've been sneaking around asking about us, so here we are! What is your problem so important that you didn't just ask us directly?”

Panic. The Ghirlinn were a species in control of their destiny, who had conquered time and space long ago, so this was the first time in years where Zantari was legitimately taken off guard. This was first contact with the Terrans themselves, or at least part of them, and being cornered in a hallway by someone in some form of military intelligence had not been the plan.

All carefully crafted machinations around bringing the information Zantari had gathered back home, and creating a perfect diplomatic approach to first contact fled their mind, leaving behind a stumbling slurry of thoughts.

“Well, it wasn't really sneaking per se…”

“By definition it was, sneaking. Analysis of your movements and scheduled meetings suggests a purposeful attempt to avoid Terrans.” The AI spoke once more., the digital voice somehow sounding full of snark as they spoke.

“Which leads to what exactly were you doing?” Added the uplift, adding to the pressure with his AI coworker. “Planning on cutting down a burgeoning alliance? Want to poach our members, offering them a better deal?”

“Of course not! That wouldn’t be our place, we don’t interfere. We mean you no harm! “ Zantari fumbled for a response as the uplift stared them down. ”We just wanted to… you know.”

“No, I don’t know, because you didn’t talk to us and avoided us for god knows what reason. That isn’t the actions of someone who means no harm.” The feline countered with venom in their voice.

“We were also able to do some investigation of our own. Your species has a tendency to be… disruptive.”

“Those aren’t sanctioned, people are only remembered when they break the rules!” The Ghirlinn shouted as they tried to answer, desperately feeling like their actions were being taken in the most negative light. “It’s just the Terrans, humans, whatever you call them, they’re… it’s complicated.”

“What about them? It’s really not complicated, the fact that you are making this complicated makes me feel like you’re threatening them.” The uplift immediately countered.

“We do not like those who threaten our creators.”

Zantari once again fumbled for their words. “It’s not a threat, it’s the opposite, it's…”

“What is it?!”

“What is your purpose here?!”

“THEY’RE CUTE!”

There was a pause as the barrage of questions and accusations finally broke Zantari down, the poor Ghirlinn screaming the words out and silencing the two Terrans, the empty lack of noise finally filling the hallway as they tried to understand just what that meant.

Oh great job Zantari, that’s a ‘perfect’ explanation you idiot.

“What?” The Uplift eventually asked, confused, the opposition in his voice replaced with confusion.

“Terrans, the other ones, the humans. They’re adorable! Little bipedal furless children wobbling around being chaotic wherever they go. I’ve been talking with your allies to work out how to break that to them. Because as soon as the rest of my species learn about you, ‘Terran trafficking’ is going to become a problem and none of you have anything that can stop us! We don’t want you to hate us, so I was trying to work out what kind of species you are so we could explain it in the best way! Which we STILL don’t know because everyone gave me different information about you and I don’t know what we’re supposed to do!”

For all of the Ghirlinn’s technology and superior understanding of the universe, there was nothing else Zantari could do but be honest, the desperation and despair in their voice evident. No matter how advanced as a species you got, first contacts were always a pain. Getting people to like you, hoping your flaws and issues didn’t outweigh your positive traits. That first jump into the unknown never got any easier.

Silence took over the hallway for ten, twenty seconds. Then the uplift started to laugh, starting out with small giggles before erupting into a full on belly aching roar of mirth at this information. Zantari felt a small amount of indignation as all of their worries and fears at meeting the Terrans were responded to with laughter.

“It’s not funny! It’s a major issue that’s going to cause big problems!”

“I do agree.” The AI added. “With the technological advantage of the Ghirlinn, this could cause issues for our creators.”

Yet still the uplift continued to laugh, their tough professional demeanour breaking down when faced with the funniest thing they’d heard for years.

“I’m sorry, but look at me.” The uplift finally shouted out in-between laughter. “After my many years of existence with our creators, the fact that someone else finds humans cute, to the same annoying degree, is hilarious.”

“I will admit, it is kinda funny.”

Zantari didn’t know how to feel about this. This was not the reaction they were expecting, they had no plan for what to do if the Terrans found the problem… funny. Even now, even after over forty meetings talking about the strange adorable primates with other species, this reaction confused them.

“The Scythen did say it was funny.” Zantari conceded, slowly feeling better and a little bit silly after worrying about this meeting for so long. “So you’re not afraid or angry at us for this new problem?”

“No, I’m still angry with you.” The uplift contested, pointing a furred paw towards the Ghirlinn. “Sneaking around, going behind our backs, spying on us through our friends. In bird law that’s known as a dick move.”

“I will give you some advice Mr. Zantari. My creators only find deception acceptable in two cases: regarding presents, and surprise parties.” The AI added slowly. “Even the latter is prone to the party recipient pulling out a form of weaponry.”

The Ghirlinn hung their head with shame, realizing just how bad their actions looked to someone not privy to the reasons why they had decided upon such deceit. Maybe thousands upon thousands of years of not needing to take this kind of risk at social rejection, had left the Ghirlinn terrified at what should have been a simple, honest interaction.

“So, what happens now?”

The uplift gave a sigh, as the once closed door finally opened after the AI had finished their ‘maintenance’. The uplift walked through it, passing by Zantari with confidence before beckoning the Ghirlinn to follow.

“What happens now is you follow me and we do this properly. You’re going to get in contact with our head of diplomatic relations, you’re going to explain the problem and work on a solution together. You’re also going to meet your first human. I hope it’s everything you thought it was going to be.”

Zantari held their hands together nervously, feeling like a child that had just been scolded and was being told to fix their mistake. They took a moment before finally following the Uplift through the door, now realizing the AI had given them some crucial information on something the Terrans would enjoy.

“... Can we have a moment, so I can get the Terrans a present?”

Chapter Text

Jan Eagles suppressed the urge to sigh. It was a trick he'd mastered over his many years as an ambassador, the ability to avoid a physical reaction regardless of the situation, to remain unflinchingly calm and diplomatic in the most undiplomatic of circumstances. This was a skill being tested to its limits by this new… problem.

He stood at the head of the table, surveying the room. This was the nice office, situated on the ambassadorial station in orbit of Earth itself, the one used for the most important meetings, carefully put together to provide an aura of friendship and strength in equal measure.

Paintings, photographs and tapestries hung from the walls, some commissioned, some gifted by members of the Terran Alliance. Representations of cities or natural wonders from Earth and other Terran planets were hanging next to artworks from alliance members and pictures of Terran diplomats meeting with various alien leaders.

A deep mahogany table with twenty seats dominated the room, allowing the Terrans to host major meetings with important guests. The clear glass windows of the far wall provided an impressive view of not only the splendour of Earth, the beautiful blue and green marble that hung in the sky, but the many, many warships in her defensive fleet. Upon the table normally sat a variety of foods sourced from Earth: Fruits, dried meats, other edible delicacies from the planet the station orbited had all been pushed to the edge of the surface, to make room for the ‘gifts’ that Jan’s visitor had brought.

A random selection of items lay scattered in a pile: A giant laser cannon of unknown make was placed next to a giant plush toy of some five legged furry creature that Jan didn’t recognize. A case of Lituram wine hiding under a strange decorative sculpture that wobbled in place. Finished off with a robe with three armholes draped over the top of it all, a line of alien text on the front that read ‘I LUV GRIZXTAL CITY’. The entire collection had the vibe of someone who’d suddenly realized it was Christmas Eve while shopping at a gas station, which to be fair, precisely described the rush with which Zantari had brought their presents.

“So, let us recap to see if I understand this situation. You are Zantari, a diplomat for Ghirlinn who has been avoiding contact with the Terran Conclave because your species finds Terrans, humans in particular, cute. You are worried about members of your species starting human trafficking due to your technological advantage. As soon as you leave this conversation you legally have to inform your government about our existence, bringing this problem to a head. Have I got this right?”

Jan asked the question, summarizing the rambling nervous explanation that Zantari had given him, feeling the start of a headache coming on from the problems this might cause. Of course, the head diplomat for the Terrans knew about the Ghirlinn, or at least as much as one can know about such a species. They knew the alien race could do things that broke the current Terran understanding of how the universe worked, and that, at best, they could be described as ‘trickster gods’, known for their love of watching and messing with people.

The fact that this species was going to take special interest in the Terrans was worrying.

There was pause while Jan waited for the Ghirlinn to answer the question, the seconds awkwardly ticking by as Zantari stared at him with a blank distracted look in their eyes, before the reptilian form the Ghirlinn preferred to use by default gave a jump of surprise, as if being awoken from their own thoughts. A panicked look was plastered across their face as Zantari realized someone had asked them a question.

“Errr… I’m sorry, what was the question? I… I got a little distracted by the way the fur beneath your nose bounces up and down while you talk… like a little boopable button.”

Jan once again held in the urge to sigh, instead pushing the feeling deep into his soul and suppressing it into what would probably later form a brain tumour. He got the feeling that many ‘cute’ aliens of the universe would be getting apologies from certain people upon their first interaction with the Ghirlinn.

“I was summarizing the issue you presented to me.”

“Yes, yes. The Ghirlinn would really prefer for our relations to be positive, and do not want our minority of criminals to tarnish our future interactions.”

While the Terran diplomat understood that this meeting had been ‘sprung’ on Zantari, Jan did hope that the Ghirlinn would be a little more professional than their current state of barely being able to pay attention.

Still, Jan wondered if this was a weakness that could be exploited. The Terran was under no delusion about their position in this meeting, as the technological gap between the two species was immense, so anything that could be used to get more favourable deals or interactions between them was something to be fully explored.

“Well there are a lot of ways I believe we could be friends. I understand that you were the one responsible for taking out the Estorian fleet near Hatil space, which we thank you extensively for, that makes us overjoyed at the tragedy that you stopped heroically.” Jan paused for a moment as he spoke, watching the clear joy emanating from Zantari as the ‘cute primate’ praised them. “We’d be exceptionally interested in a friendly defensive agreement, as we both seem to dislike the same people.”

“I’m sorry, we really can’t do that. I wish we could.”

Jan watched as the Ghirlinn slowly squirmed with discomfort at having to tell him no, giving a soft smile in return as he applied a little more pressure.

“But right now a lot of Terrans are being hurt, or even killed by the Estorians. Even just a little help defensively would allow us to focus more on this new possible friendship we find ourselves in.”

Jan knew exactly what he was doing as Zantari’s expression turned to one of pain, as if they were a National Geographic researcher having to film a cute baby deer being hunted by a lion, unable to act in their requirement of neutrality. The Terran diplomat had no problems with abandoning their pride to help the Terran Alliance as a whole, especially given the unprecedentedly high levels of cohesion of the Estorian Empire’s individual armies. If giving the strange shape-shifter some ‘puppy eyes’ was all it took to end the war in the Terran’s favour, then Jan would act as cute as possible.

“I’m sorry, I really am. We can’t get involved. There are reasons outside your knowledge, agreements and rules we can’t break. It’s really for your own good.”

Zantari looked like he was about to cry, having to tell the cute little human no, leaving Jan to offer an alternative. There was no need to overly push such a suggestion in just one meeting, you very rarely got everything you wanted in just one conversation. The trick was to slowly wear down your diplomatic contacts over time, to get what you wanted.

“That’s unfortunate. But I’m certain there are other ways we can aid and learn more about each other. I’m sure after the news about our species hits your media, the Ghirlinn would be interested in some mutual tourism, or even an exchange program between members of our scientific community?”

There was a second way to get value from such a relationship, and while Jan was interested in learning about this advanced alien species just out of curiosity, getting as many of the Ghirlinn at various “tourist destinations” would be the same as having those locations defended by the Ghirlinn government as they strove to protect their citizens. This wasn’t even a new idea, Jan knew about several governments who unofficially used Terran tourism as a shield, knowing that the Terran Conclave would be forced to respond if anyone attacked these locations.

Honestly, being on this side of negotiations was an interesting feeling for Jan Eagles.

“If you wanted that, that would be grand!” Zantari responded with a more animated expression “We would be willing to provide anything needed to any Terran wishing to travel to Ghirlinn space as honoured guests. Especially if they wish to travel to our systems outside this galaxy.”

Jan couldn’t help but give a small raise of an eyebrow as he processed this statement, a tiny crack in his poker face at just how big of an offer that was. He knew there were people who would literally bite off this shapeshifter’s hand for that offer, to travel outside their current galaxy to the universe unknown. That was without getting into the possibility of anyone visiting the Ghirlinn ‘borrowing’ any technology that wasn’t nailed down. Fortunately for Jan, Zantari was too busy internally fighting the urge to squee at the Terran who just waggled a cute fuzzy eyebrow at them, to know what it meant.

“That, that would work.” Jan finally said after a few moments, carefully choosing their words and movements to hide just how good an offer that was. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room: These ‘Terran traffickers’ of yours.”

Zantari started wringing their hands in anxiety as they waited for the Terran diplomat to continue talking, a worry and fear rising as Jan reached into a suit pocket and pulled out a small datapad before handing it over. Was this moment where all of the Ghirlinn’s fears would be realized, that these cute little creatures would hate them for the troubles that the Ghirlinn would cause?

“If you agree to these terms in dealing with such members of your species, I’m sure it will be fine.”

Zantari took a moment to quickly skim the document, anxiety replaced with relief as the asked actions were all a reasonable framework surrounding information sharing and punishment around any would be Terran traffickers.

“Yes, this would be the least we’d do, anyone who breaks your sapient rights will be dealt with harshly by our justice system!” Zantari took a few more moments to keep reading the strangely detailed document, before continuing. “So you’re not angry or scared of us because of this? You’re not insulted at all by us finding you cute?”

This time Jan did actually sigh, a small calming sound as they gave the nervous Ghirlinn a soft smile, empathy for Zantari’s situation filling the Terran diplomat. Sure, at a species level Zantari had the advantage, but it was clear to Jan that while he’d spent the last 70 years cutting his teeth on diplomatic negotiations in a massive confusing galaxy, his counterpart wasn’t experienced with this kind of meeting. The Ghirlinn seemed more intent on worrying about whether the Terrans would hate them than trying to gain any kind of advantage in negotiations.

“Look, most Terrans will find it annoying or insulting if you’re over the top with it. A few will find it endearing, and a minority will be into it.” Jan paused for a moment, wondering what would happen when the Ghirlinn eventually wandered into the insanity of the Terran Galnet, before leaving that thought for another day. “Really, we can't complain too much without being hypocrites.”

Zantari gave a small frown of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We have the same problem you do. Half of the universe triggers our ‘cute’ response, and while most Terrans would not do such a thing, a minority will, and keep breaking our laws on ‘no trafficking people, no matter how cute they are’. The documents you hold in your hands are our standard agreement with other such races on how we deal with our own problems. Expecting you to do anything we wouldn’t expect of ourselves would be wrong.”

Zantari took a few moments to understand the meaning of this statement, finding it adorable that the Terrans had the same problems they did. Was this why everyone found the situation funny, that the Terrans have the same problem with the rest of the galaxy as the Ghirlinn would have with Terrans? With the lack of response from Jan, Zantari now realized their over-thinking regarding this meeting was unnecessary if the cute little primates were this chill about the problem.

“I feel a little silly now, worrying about this meeting. I really thought you’d be angrier at such a threat from us…” Zantari gave a small sigh, bowing their head in shame, understanding that the simplest solution would have been to just talk with the Terrans. “But I still don’t get one thing: What is your deal? I spent so much time trying to work out who you were, to find out how to correctly initiate this conversation, but nothing made sense. The Litorian Horde thinks you’re warriors, the Parket thinks you're awesome party people, and the Hatil talk about you like you’re benevolent saviours. Everyone seems to have a different view of just what a Terran is.”

Jan took a moment and gave a small chuckle, a kind smile playing at the edges of his lips as he saw yet another species be absolutely confused about the duality of humanity.

“The answer is yes. We are all those things and more. If you ask 10 Terrans about something, you will get 11 opinions. No matter who or what you are, there will be at least someone amongst our species who finds what you do to be interesting, worth their time and effort. I think if you wanted to describe what motivates a Terran, it’s very simple: We just want to be happy, and whatever makes us happy is generally far more enjoyable when done with other people, with friends.”

Jan Eagles took a step forwards, holding out a hand in friendship toward the Ghirlinn, and somehow, against all the worries and stress Zantari had faced over the Terrans, they now knew everything would be alright in the end.

“The Terran Conclave would be very happy to be a friend to the Ghirlinn.”

Zantari had had a stressful month, in trying to work out just what these cute Terrans were all about, meeting various diplomats in their quest to try and craft the perfect first contact with the little primates. This had been followed by pure relief as the Terrans seemingly accepted the Ghirlinn, faults and all.

So, in a moment of confusion and with all self-control slipping away, as Jan Eagles extended his arm towards them in a gesture of friendship, Zantari’s brain glitched. He raised his own appendage in response, not to grasp the diplomat's hand, but higher, reaching out with a single pointed finger and mindlessly pressing it against the Terran’s soft squishy nose without thinking. It took Zantari a few seconds to realize exactly what they had done, half filled with satisfaction, the other half containing embarrassment and worry once again. Still, they uttered a final word that needed to be said in precisely such a circumstance.

“Boop.”