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The door to the well-appointed conference room opens, and Chiskisk, a member of the Starfinder Society’s Forum, enters, their antennae bobbing rhythmically as they move to take a seat at the head of the table.
“Welcome, colleagues. As you know, the Starfinder Society has been quite efficacious of late. The acts of brave agents like yourselves has made the Society once-again respected and known throughout Near Space and even in some areas of the Vast. We have been quick to capitalize on these new opportunities. Recently, the Society has reached out to nearly a dozen new civilizations with which we have mutual interests. At this moment, the Lorespire Complex is brimming with ambassadors, dignitaries, and probably also spies from many worlds.
“I had the honor to conclude preliminary negotiations with one such ambassador. They are about to sign an exclusive exploration and trade treaty with the Starfinder Society, largely based on our recent exploits. However...” the shirren pauses awkwardly, then moves to an expansive window that overlooks the Lorespire campus.
“The delegate has requested a recess in negotiations to explore Absalom Station before signing the agreement. Of course, I granted them freedom of the station, as long as they accepted an escort of local Starfinder agents to see to their every need.” The shirren turns back to face the conference table. “That ‘escort,’ of course, would be you!”
Chiskisk slides a data disk across the table. “Here is the dossier on the visiting dignitary you’ll be escorting. Find out what they’re interested in seeing, and take them there. Be gracious hosts, entertaining tour guides, bodyguards, or social planners, as the dignitary requires. It should go without saying that this emissary’s safety and security are paramount, as is their continued goodwill toward the Society. If you do a good job,we might just secure the opportunity to explore a new world. Any questions?”
The data disk contains a brief dossier on 'Hammer of Xylax'
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A towering pack of Vesk muscle barges into the room, swiftly placing himself a few feet in front of Chiskisk in a rigid salute position. Without waiting for anyone to utter a word, he begins shouting, seemingly without breathing or blinking:
"SIR! PRIVATE KRUVENOSH IRONSCAR, SON OF RALOVEG THE INCENDIARY, ENSIGN NUMBER VP254TW7, REPORTING IN, SIR! PREVIOUSLY STATIONED ON VESK PRIME, TRANSFERRED TO ABSALOM STATION UNDER ORDERS FROM GENERAL VODISLAK "STARCHASER" TO ASSIST THE STARFINDER SOCIETY. FOR FURTHER CREDENTIALS AND MILITARY RECORD, PLEASE REFER TO MY DOSSIER."
He waits an instant for the shirren to acknowledge his greeting in some way, then breaks the salute, turning to the other assembled Starfinders with a stiff smile.
"Happy to meet you, comrades. I hope my warfare skills will be of service in this assignment."
Kruvenosh is wearing traditional Vesk armor emblazoned with various sigils, including what the more military-savvy would be able to recognize as the emblem of the Veskarium's special technological ops. As he speaks, he scratches a long scar running from his forehead to the base of his neck, keeping his left eye constantly half-shut. A gigantic doshko is strapped to his back, where sharp scales protrude from his spine.
Kruvenosh takes a moment to review the dossier, then speaks:
"Sir, consider this matter handled. If I may inquire, do the Trox have any known tense relations with other notable powers?"
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Marching into the Briefing room shortly after the energetic Vesk is a Humanoid figure in cloth of gold robes with tapered sleeves that end halfway down the forearm - sleek Ivory armour engraved with golden star constellations is visible at the robes opening as well as the forearms and lower legs, Encompassing their feet and hands. The figure’s hood is up and they wear a mask to match the armour and a golden scarf around their neck gives them a desert dweller appearance. Upon the rear of the robe is a sun and sword Icon picked out in silver thread.
As they move, their body subtly shifts and vibrates as if it was made up of individual insects swarming underneath their armour rather than a solid chitin and bone. The silhouette of their figure reveals them to be a Shirren and they snap to attention much like Ironscar before speaking, their telepathic voice projecting with a soft buzzing noise akin to the wings of a wasp or bee.
”Captain, fellow Agents - We are Z’tel. The Illuminator has guided our steps and so we are here to assist you in this endeavour.” they bow elegantly, seeming to fold rather than bend. They the. Pick up the datapad and begin to read the dossier.
”We are content with the details of out assignment - the Ambassador will not come to harm”
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Kruvenosh approaches Z'Tel and offers a big scaly hand.
"A pleasure to meet you, Z'Tel."
The Vesk scans the Shirren from head to toe, briefly stopping his gaze upon analysing the movements under the golden robes. He lets out a short "Hmm" as his stare moves to his arm, where his scales move in a similar fashion.
"Who is this 'Illuminator' who has sent you here?" he continues after a pause. "Is he your commander? Are you also from the military?"
A small gnome with a white beard and moustache combination and a darker skin that faintly shifts in a series of scintillating colors steps into the room and takes a look around. "Oh, good. Seems I'm not too late to the briefing. The shuttle from the Dispora had engine troubles on the way over. Seems they forgot to fuel up correctly before leaving the station. Anyways, Tried Gludrapluck at your service. Half the dwarfs in the dispora jsut call me Luck though, given how I don't seem to die readily. Though the explosion last year meant I had to be revived with nanobots... But I'm still breathing!"
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Z'tel turns to face the Vesk soldier, their form shifting slightly as they do - almost making it look like they have reformed to face them rather than turned. They pause to consider the question before answering, their telepathic voice buzzing softly.
"The Illuminator is also known as Sarenrae - I was once a Soldier, but injuries suffered caused me to undergo an experimental procedure similar to 'Luck' there." their voice becomes almost reverent. "During my fight for life, I received a vision from the Sun Goddess to illuminate my path forwards. What brings you here?"
They turn to greet the Dr. and Quartermaster - taking in the soft vibrations from each with their twitching antennae - it seems they were surrounded by very similar creatures.
Luck smiles broadly at the resonance of a kindred... well, body? He strides further into he room and launches himself into a chair not really taking care to aim his landing. As his rump decends towards the armrest he shifts about a foot to the left and plops into the center of the chair. Broad grin on hsi face he looks up at the vesk, human and lashunta he'll be traveling with. "Glad to hear I wasn't the only one who was put through the tiny machine grinder of a medical procedure! As for why I'm here? Well, let's just say three months of tripping the metal detectors at work and spending 30ish minutes getting checked over for weapons or smuggled ore every day got tiring fast!" The patterns of blue, green and purple flicker across his exposed skin like rapid blinking LED lights at the vehemence of the last expression before slowing down as he takes a deep breath.
"Seems we have a devote of the Dawnflower, may her light keep shining on you. Our human friend here seems enamored with xeno species, if his singular focus is anything to go by, and PRIVATE KRUVENOSH IRONSCAR, SON OF RALOVEG THE INCENDIARY, ENSIGN NUMBER VP254TW7 here is apparently a career Veskarium solider, given his announcement that I could hear two hallways away. Sooo what is everyone here good, at if you don't mind me asking? I'm a decent enough shot with a mining laser given my time having to cover shifts in the Dispora... And I can find or repair equipment if needed."
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The Vesk greets the Dr. and the Quartermaster, listening to their introductions while scratching the scales on his arms.
"During my fight for life, I received a vision from the Sun Goddess to illuminate my path forwards. What brings you here?"
Kruvenosh takes a moment to take in the religious discourse, visibly not used to speak about gods. He nods slowly, then answers: "I have been stationed on Vesk Prime for a long time, but my general thought the Starfinder Society would be a better use for my talents. It's an unusually peaceful time for the Vesk." he says with a tone that sounds close to disappointment. "I was formed for recon and tactical ops, but nowadays most of my assignments were to escort dignitaries or guard buildings. Pteh." he frowns before continuing. "They thought the Society seemed the best place to offer my services. I know a few other of my comrades were also sent here, as well as to various outposts throughout recent Society outposts."
"and PRIVATE KRUVENOSH IRONSCAR, SON OF RALOVEG THE INCENDIARY, ENSIGN NUMBER VP254TW7 here is apparently a career Veskarium solider, given his announcement that I could hear two hallways away. Sooo what is everyone here good, at if you don't mind me asking?"
Kruvenosh's chest puffs at the mention of his full name. He smiles a broad smile and taps the doshko strapped on his back. "Ol' Satovi here is ready to put in some work. I was mostly trained for close encounters, but I can shoot alright. Apart from combat, my training ranged from reconnaissance to basic engineering and infiltration."
"Glad to hear I wasn't the only one who was put through the tiny machine grinder of a medical procedure!"
"That is most interesting. The procedure you are describing resembles the one that was used to bolster the physical capabilities of my unit." He stares at his arm moving in little waves. "Although it was not accidental. But further details about the unit are classified."
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As Ironscar replies, Z'tel tilts their head slightly, examining the softly shifting and vibrating scales of the imposing warrior. They nod at their response before looking quizzically at 'Luck'. "Hmm yes, it would seem so - how fortuitous that we should all meet here." they reply, before pondering a moment to consider their answer to the Gnome's question. "Our strengths come from the machines making up 83.6% of our body - they are versatile and we use them for combat, our very body becoming a Weapon when the needs arise - though we do have a rifle should that not suffice."
They move to one of the room's settees and take a seat, more refined than the Gnome's own motion, their Nanite's moving to support their weight in a different area. "Our skills outside of direct confrontation stem from our time within the Pact World's Naval forces. We are familiar with the inner workings of Starships as well as piloting them - with Reconnaissance being our specialism."
"Sir, consider this matter handled. If I may inquire, do the Trox have any known tense relations with other notable powers?"
We are currently aware of no such relationships. Everything we know has been summarized in my notes - you may try to find out such information at your discretion, but the primary focus should be on making a good impression
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"I would hardly refer to any procedure involving implantation of bio-congruous nanotechnological components to be a 'meat grinder'." replies the focused human. "The technicalities are always lost on the subjects. All the more validation for having employed the initial phase methodologies upon myself, I suppose."
"As for my name, if you must know, it is Everbrite, Doctor Alstead Everbrite." the man replies. "And the application of bio-congruous nanotechnology is, indeed, my specialty. From what I can gather, I have been assigned the task of monitoring you as you undertake what, it would appear, will be a relatively simple and non-strenuous mission. The fact that the assignment affords me an opportunity to encounter and observe one of the trox, a xeno-species with which I have only a limited data set, is merely a fortuitous confluence of circumstances ."
"That is most interesting. The procedure you are describing resembles the one that was used to bolster the physical capabilities of my unit." He stares at his arm moving in in little waves. "Although it was not accidental. But further details about the unit are classified."
Luck pauses at this and scowls for a moment. "Course the vesk would see to using this for combat. But it makes sense, these little ones can be quite handy in a fight. I doubt anyone here was given them accidentally, though..."
"Hmm yes, it would seem so - how fortuitous that we should all meet here." they reply,
The gnome's eyes narrow some at the comment, "Certainly seems a bit more than fortune behind this. Wonder if someone wanted all of us in one place? But speculating any further without further information would be paranoid I guess."
before pondering a moment to consider their answer to the Gnome's question. "Our strengths come from the machines making up 83.6% of our body - they are versatile and we use them for combat, our very body becoming a Weapon when the needs arise - though we do have a rifle should that not suffice."
Tried's eyes widen, his skin taking on a few bright spots of pink in surprise. "Wow, you went that far with the procedure? Was your injury that bad? I could only stand a third of my body being mechanized... Personally, I fear that their programming would never be able to replicate my personality. Sure sufficiently advanced machines can have souls, but are these nanites sufficiently advanced enough for that? If instead they only took a copy of the structures of my body before tearing it down an rebuilding, what happens to my sentience during the time that I've been deconstructed? I'd rather not have to find out." He gives a shiver, visible ripples moving along his skin, as his coloration takes on a more somber quality.
"I would hardly refer to any procedure involving implantation of bio-congruous nanotechnological components to be a 'meat grinder'." replies the focused human. "The technicalities are always lost on the subjects. All the more validation for having employed the initial phase methodologies upon myself, I suppose."
Gald for the distraction from the existential dread, Tried smiles at the Doctor and gibes back with, "Seeing as they can literally deconstruct parts of my body, I don't see how a 'meat grinder' is not at least somewhat appropriate of a description. How would you describe it to a layman instead, Doctor?"
"As for my name, if you must know, it is Everbrite, Doctor Alstead Everbrite." the man replies. "And the application of bio-congruous nanotechnology is, indeed, my specialty. From what I can gather, I have been assigned the task of monitoring you as you undertake what, it would appear, will be a relatively simple and non-strenuous mission."
Luck pops onto his feet and strides over to the doctor, extending a hand, s@%* eating grin on his face as he moves in for a teasing taunt. "Pleasure to meet you Dr. Everbrite. Also you've read the rather large volume of studies that shows a congenial bedside manner generally results in better outcome for your patients, right? And I kneew this couldn'T be a coincidence. So who sought to gather us all together, here, doctor?"
It's time to meet the dignitary. The Trox looks exactly like the picture in the dossier, complete with hammer. She is an insect-like humanoid, powerfully built, with a hard, chitinous carapace
and four extra vestigial arms.
Z'tel quite quickly realized that violence is something the dignitary does not tolerate, despite the large smacky hammer.
Greetings, starfinders the dignitary says with a clicking voice. Allow me to properly introduce myself - I am Hammer of Hylax. You make call me 'Hammer' if you prefer.
I have been summoned to Absalom station for negotiations, though while I'm here I would sample some of the culture the station has on offer. I have heard the Hamisfore theatre is a good place for that. I would also like to bring a sample of the local wildlife, and would like to have a sample of the local nightlife. Finally, one of the dignitaries - a robot-like being - has convinced me that all rides must end at the gift shop, sp we should end there.
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"Seeing as they can literally deconstruct parts of my body, I don't see how a 'meat grinder' is not at least somewhat appropriate of a description. How would you describe it to a layman instead, Doctor?"
"Why, I simply wouldn't bother, Mister...Gludrapluck? Was it?" Dr. Everbrite replies. "After all, I'd hardly expect a layperson to even begin to grasp the most basic terminology and anatomical systems necessary to describe the procedure even in the most rudimentary of explanations."
Luck pops onto his feet and strides over to the doctor, extending a hand, s~@% eating grin on his face as he moves in for a teasing taunt. "Pleasure to meet you Dr. Everbrite. Also you've read the rather large volume of studies that shows a congenial bedside manner generally results in better outcome for your patients, right? And I kneew this couldn'T be a coincidence. So who sought to gather us all together, here, doctor?"[/b]
"Yes, I am sure it is a pleasure." Dr. Everbrite replies as he takes the gnome's hand and eyes the Starfinder like a specimen. "As for the 'large volume of studies' to which you refer, if you are asking about those publications dedicated to the 'pseudo-science' of 'emotional psychology', then I am afraid that I haven't had the time to debunk such speculative drivel. And, as to your inquiry as to who has gathered us all together, I would think it self-evident. You are a member of the Starfinder Society, are you not? And the illustrious Chiskisk is, indeed, a venture-captain, are they not?"
Following his encounter with the boisterous gnome, the doctor retrieves a datapad and surreptitiously begins taking notes.
I have been summoned to Absalom station for negotiations, though while I'm here I would sample some of the culture the station has on offer. I have heard the Hamisfore theatre is a good place for that. I would also like to bring a sample of the local wildlife, and would like to have a sample of the local nightlife. Finally, one of the dignitaries - a robot-like being - has convinced me that all rides must end at the gift shop, sp we should end there.
"You are certainly a most interesting being, 'Hammer'." Dr. Everbrite states as a form of greeting. "It is the wish of the Society that you enjoy your time here on Absalom Station and that you remain safe."
"I do not think your proposed itinerary to be particularly objectionable, although I must concede that I am personally unaware of any potential benefit or even curious interest that the theater may provide. As for your desire to obtain a sample of the station's wild life, I would be most happy to show you several jars of specimens in my lab that I have acquired over the past few years. In addition, you are more than welcome to survey my own personal data files on the subject. I have recently completed a series of detailed reports recounting a number of vivisections that I had performed on a small clutch of electrovores that had infested an office of one of my colleagues, which I think you would undoubtedly find to be quite interesting if not also revelatory." offers the doctor.
"Yes, I am sure it is a pleasure." Dr. Everbrite replies as he takes the gnome's hand and eyes the Starfinder like a specimen. "As for the 'large volume of studies' to which you refer, if you are asking about those publications dedicated to the 'pseudo-science' of 'emotional psychology', then I am afraid that I haven't had the time to debunk such speculative drivel."
Luck'S grin widens some, this was going to be a fun one to poke at. "No, I was referring to the body of work published by doctors and researchers... Hold on... Uhh seems the most recent metastudy of this was published in a place called Salom One and covered a variety... and I quote 'suggests that the patient-clinician relationship has a small, but statistically significant effect on healthcare outcomes.' but does mention the variety of eligible studies were few and there probably needs to be more research." Luck then sends a link to the page with a confident grin.
The gnome does pause at the mention of the Society being the cause behind the gathering of the group. "I haven't been in the Society for long, is this a common occurrence then?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Luck walks over to the Hammer of Xylax and gives a short bow, while taking a moment to try reading how the dignitary would respond to a more formal or informal approach.
... he sadly has no idea how to read trox expressions, however it seems. Deciding on a middle of the road approach he starts with, "Your honor, I'm Tried Gludrapluck, but please call me Tried or Luck. I'm not the most knowledgable about the station, as it's my first time here myself, but I can requisition just about anything with a suitable amount of credits and an hour. As for the nightlife, I hear there's some amazing drinking places around here... uh, somewhere."
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"From what I can gather, I have been assigned the task of monitoring you as you undertake what, it would appear, will be a relatively simple and non-strenuous mission. The fact that the assignment affords me an opportunity to encounter and observe one of the trox, a xeno-species with which I have only a limited data set, is merely a fortuitous confluence of circumstances ."
Kruvenosh gives a hearty clap on the Doctor's back.
"Glad to have you here then, Doctor." he smiles and adds: "You remind me of the physicist who monitored my unit. Always talking science gibberish."
Kruvenosh salutes the Trox.
"Ambassador! Private Kruvenosh Ironscar, son of Raloveg the Incendiary, ensign number VP254TW7, sir!" he assumes the same stiff position as with Chiskisk, but he seems slightly intrigued by the Trox. "I will serve as your personal guard with my comrades during our tour of Absalom Station. Please let me know if I can be of assistance on any matter." The vesk seems to have lost the casual demeanor he spoke to the party with in favor of a more strict attitude.
Grr grr grr Hammer responds to Dr Everbrite, a sound that me interpreted as a laugh. Maybe.
The doctor quickly picks up on the fact that she seems to react quite well to politeness.
I would prefer a living sample, though. she says as she makes a chirpy-clicky sounds, a nice furry creature?
Jatembe park is full of cute little squonkses. One of them won't be missed.
Tried gives a small ooh of excitement at the mention of small furry things. "Well even someone who hasn't lived here before like me knows there's an over abundance of squonkses in Jatambe Park! They'd probably be fun to play with for a bit too if we bring some food... That is if that appeals to you, Your Honor."
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Tried's eyes widen, his skin taking on a few bright spots of pink in surprise. "Wow, you went that far with the procedure? Was your injury that bad? I could only stand a third of my body being mechanized... Personally, I fear that their programming would never be able to replicate my personality. Sure sufficiently advanced machines can have souls, but are these nanites sufficiently advanced enough for that? If instead they only took a copy of the structures of my body before tearing it down an rebuilding, what happens to my sentience during the time that I've been deconstructed? I'd rather not have to find out." He gives a shiver, visible ripples moving along his skin, as his coloration takes on a more somber quality.
"Our injuries were apparently extensive - though we only vaguely recall the circumstances in which we acquired it. Apparently the only parts that were salvageable were parts of our torso and head." they shrug in a ripple of movement. "I understand your reticence - but we are unfortunately not qualified to discuss the nature of the soul, we feel like ourselves, though we do have gaps in our memory which are apparently due to the extensive trauma suffered."
When the Ambassador enters, Z'tel stands rigid once more and offers a deep bow in recognition of their status in welcome. "Greetings, We are Z'tel, humble servant of the Illuminator."
Z'tel calmly assesses their charge - for one that professes to hate violence she seemed to be carrying a rather lethal symbol of Office - were it to represent building they might understand but it was too large for that. Listening to their requests, they commit them to memory and shrug.
"Your lists seems acceptable and should not cause us too many concerns." Z'tel responds to the Ambassador. "I have not spent too much time on the Station myself in recent years but yes let us go to Jatembe Park."
Waiting for the Ambassador to step out of the room, they fall into step just behind the Hammer, forming a protective ward for the Hammer.
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"No, I was referring to the body of work published by doctors and researchers... Hold on... Uhh seems the most recent metastudy of this was published in a place called Salom One and covered a variety... and I quote 'suggests that the patient-clinician relationship has a small, but statistically significant effect on healthcare outcomes.' but does mention the variety of eligible studies were few and there probably needs to be more research." Luck then sends a link to the page with a confident grin.
"Yes, well, I consider myself more of a medical researcher than a clinician." Dr. Everbrite responds, somewhat dismissively.
The gnome does pause at the mention of the Society being the cause behind the gathering of the group. "I haven't been in the Society for long, is this a common occurrence then?"
Dr. Everbrite shakes his head, indicating his disapproval for the apparent lack of procedures providing new agent orientation within the Society. However, his only verbal response he receives from the doctor is, "Yes."
"Agreed. If you seek a 'nice furry creature', then acquiring a specimen at Jatembe Park should provide suitable." the doctor affirms in response to the Hammer. "Do you have a preferred method of containment and transport? I presume you will wish to keep the specimen intact during the process. A form of cryo-stasis, perhaps?"
Jatembe park is a large, sprawling piece of nature on absalom station, and home to various creatures (total amount: unknown, since many of them were shipped illegally on various transport. Ever since an incident involving a crest-eater and the loss of someone's boots, there is slightly tighter control over what happens at the park, though mostly by volunteers.
There are actually some squonkses nearby, a set of squox tracks leads to a den in the roots of a large tree.
Dr Everbrite doesn't find any squonkses, but also notices that there are not many groundkeepers nearby.
Tried tries to see if he can find any of the little furry things himself.
He scans the area berofe a series of red patterns flicker across his exposed skin, a clear sign of happy surprise. "Over there! Are those not some sqounx tracks? There's probably a den right there."
The - according to Dr Everbrite - non-squonk trail leads to a small den of squonkses.
Seven of the little creatures scatter from the den over the field, making loud screeching noises..
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Dr. Everbrite spies a few of the squonkses with initial disbelief, then concedes, "Well, Luck. It seems that you managed to find some of the local vermin."
"How do you suggest we go about neutralizing them?" he asks, realizing that he is ill-equipped to deal with any creatures in a non-lethal manner.
Luck grins broadly, a happy series of of yellows, greens and reds flickering across his skin at finding the squonks and having Dr. Everbrite acknowledge he was right. "Well, my nickname is 'Luck' after all."
He then takes a good moment to study the beasts before thinking about trying to catch one. He does release a small shroud of nanites and cause them to form a thin lining on his skin, hopefully aiding his reflexes.
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Keeping in step with the Ambassador, Z'tel examines the strange furry creatures with interest, evaluating their pattern and tuning to the Hammer of Hylax. "These are suitable creatures to match your desire for companionship?" They enquire in their buzz-like telepathic voice before stepping closer to one of the creatures, their movements slow and calm.
With their swarming nanites natural buzz reduced and their weight pressing slightly less upon the ground they crouch and try to entice one of the creatures to them with a morsel of food.
Unfortunately the small beasts seem put off by the more machine than chitin Shirren.
Luck reaches back to his pack and pulls out the small cube that appears at the top of it. He then takes a few UPBs and tosses them into the cube. With a few presses of a button and a little time, the thing pops out with a series of low quality roasted nuts.
The food in hand, Tried tries to attract one of the little beast's attention, using the nuts as bait.
The squonkes don't seem too interested sadly though.
The group tries to calm down the creatures, but they only scatter further. Four more of the agitated critters remain in the area...
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Kruvenosh walks up to a squonk and assumes a stiff position, looking at it right in the eyes.
"SOLDIER! YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO ACCOMPANY HAMMER OF HYLAX. PLEASE COLLECT YOUR VALUABLES AND REPORT BACK IMMEDIATELY."
But the military tactics unsurprisingly prove unfruitful.
Sighing some over the complete inability of the rest of his group to even entice ONE of the small creatures, Luck draws out his big mining laser and shifts the sheath of nanites around him to a cloud of them, blinking the same colors and patterns as his skin, and forces it to splay out and over the last of the fuzzy creature. He then charges up the laser and takes aim, using his nanites to try lining up a shot. He then fires, trying to excavate a hole around the little thing and trap it in place.
Kruvenosh and Everbrite try to haphazardly convince the furry creatures to stay still, until a loud bang interrupts them, trapping one of the creatures in a pit of sand.
Not soon after two ghorans, humanoids with bluish skin, walk up to the group and ask What is going on here? Why are you distressing these squoxes so much? They seem to clearly dislike visitor interfering with the fauna.
Tried looks at his steaming gun, the torn up ground, and the last squonk still struggling in a pit of sand. His skin starts shifting through shades of various colors, the cloud of nanites around him also mirroring this, as he works through a variety of emotions and thoughts.
"Uhhh, Our Honorable Ambassador, Hammer of Xylax, here, is visiting the station for a short while and truly wanted to see one some of the local wildlife, as it is very different from what she can find back home. None of them would let us approach so I thought I would try trapping one in the sand to let Ambassador Hammer of Xylax take a closer look."
He then crosses his fingers and hopes the worry isn't showing in his coloration.
Hmm, the caretaker responds, well, keep the damage to a minimum and don't take any of the creatures with you. And don't distress the squoxes too much.
The ghorans stay close to the group to observe their actions.
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"The stimulation of sensory neurons and conveyance of discomfort signals through its neurological pathways is not the intent of the containment of these mammalians." Dr. Everbrite offers in an effort to alleviate the ghorans' concerns as he proceeds to explain the intricacies of the vermin's pain response mechanisms.
Why is he reciting Abballon poetry? the one Ghoran asks the other. Look, you leave this creature alone now, you're scaring it!
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Frustrated at the lack of progress with the furry critters, Z'tel's softly buzzing body jumps in alarm at the loud propulsion from Luck's Mining Laser churning the ground to sand. Bringing themselves back to a restive state with a few calming breaths - turning to face the Ghorans as they approach and converse with the confounding doctor.
"Apologies -our colleague merely means to say that we mean no harm to the wildlife - the Ambassador wished to experience our fauna and flora and so we took her here." they transmit in their habitual buzzing nature.