Chapter 2: The Wayward Wind

Monrayleux is delighted that you accepted. His face even manages to smile a little bit.

The hour passes quickly, and each of you prepare in your own fashion.A trio of Florians greet you at the airlock after you dock with Paragon One, including Monrayleux. The other two are similarly diminutive and a hair shy of being sickliness, but do not speak. Each is seated in a squarish hovering chair, and a large, black crown rests upon each of their heads. Now that you are face-to-face with them, you see the crowns are actually wired into their heads.

You also see two tall, heavy-set bipedal figures lurking in the background, though it is too dark to make out much detail beyond that.

The interior of Paragon One is very dark. Dim, greenish-blue lights are sparsely arranged, and everything is painted black from walls to deck plates. Gravity and atmosphere feel very similar to Imperial standard.

The Florians lead you to a dimly-lit banquet hall, where a feast has been laid out. The air is filled with the tantalizing aroma of exotic spices and herbs. Monrayleux describes the food to you in his bizarre, deep voice.
While the food is served, Monrayleux begins with small talk, asking about your ethnic origins and occupation, and about your religious beliefs. Reading between the lines, you gather he is trying to understand why the Alo'hei contacted you.

"The Children of the Stars guided our ancestors to Floria after a spectacular jump accident stranded them hundreds of parsecs from home. It is there where we Diverged. We are ready for the next stage of our evolution, and we are the first of five ships sent to seek out the Children and return with their Insight."

The sound of bells filters out of unseen speakers, not loud enough to hinder discussion

Seally's family aren't very religious. Early multivariate, socio-economic, pareto-distribution forecasts informed the first nobles of House Llewyn that while there was a possible vector to power through deceptive, religious gradients, true and lasting power could only come through a monopoly of a rare and necessary resource. With that method, they became a cartel rather than a cathedral. That's not a great story to tell these beings.

Dressed in a shimmering floor length dress of opalescent material, chosen for the same family of hues as the outfit Monrayleux wore in the initial video, only lighter. The black hilt and scabbard of her ancestral static blade is clean and bold, matched by bracelets and a bold clip holding her hair up. With her hair up, her neck looks thinner and her head bigger, in a subtle show of respect of the Florian own features.

"House Llewyn was elevated by the empress after the First Imperial Civil War. We're from standard stock, the part your ancestors left behind I suppose. With control of a textile industry spanning much of Imperial core space, we soon were given control of Ishara, our home planet. But you asked about religion, and I think if there is anything that my family values it's fashion. The art of fashion is the complex ebb and flow of a broader social contagion that is style, trend and beneath that, an indication of the true direction that a societies heads are turned. I suppose that religion is really the same, except the reverse: it's the shiny center that draws all eyes."

Fallon forgoes her pistol, figuring that as untrained as she is, it would likely cause more harm than good. She keeps her stunfist but disguises/decorates it with a metal chainlink-and-plated glove of various colored metals that makes it look like part of her jewelry. She chooses a dress of carbonmail, tiny black interconnected links of carbon rings that are flexible but durable and lack the harshness and coldness of chainmail. The links were just big enough that you could tell she wasn't wearing anything underneath but also small enough to not be able to see anything. She unties her one long braid of hair and instead ties dozens of small braids and ends each one with a small ceramic teardrop-shaped bead so that they make a pleasant clacking sound whenever she moves her head.

At dinner she tries each of the dishes, making small talk between them. She gladly explains her profession and her motivations to help counteract the inherent justices of the universe, or at least the man-made ones, to try to make an unfair universe just a bit more fair. She keeps the details light on her past, simply stating, "I don't believe an individual should be saddled with either the expectations, burdens, or privileges endowed by a family's name. Maybe that's easier to say when the family in question isn't very remarkable," she smiles and gives a look to Seally who seems to enjoy talking about her family's successes.

When Monrayleux mentions his goals, Fallon takes on a thoughtful look. "You speak about evolution as if it has pre-designed stages that one must strive to attain, rather than an ever-shifting spectrum with no design at all. What do you think is your next evolutionary stage, so to speak?"

Alerio dresses in black; functional and neat. A turtle neck, and sleek black bottoms. She slides the knife into her boot as she ties them up. She washes, and then ties up her hair out of the way. To see her beside the others, you wouldn’t know that they were all going to the same meal. And yet… Alerio thought they might appreciate her palette.

Alerio doesn’t give her name beyond… well, Alerio. Not her true name, nor anything about her family. She hadn’t shared as much with the others either, though they were polite enough not to pry. Safe to say that Alerio’s family didn’t have as glorious as history as an Imperial House.

"And so… where are the other four?" Alerio asks of the ships, trying to distract from the fact that she was pushing the insects around her plate.

Zuni knows he cuts a fine male figure. Since he carries no extra weight with nicely cut muscles, he chooses a sleek, form-fitting suit made of a metallic navy blue fabric. He had only worn this outfit once at a diplomatic brunch that felt like it occurred decades ago. He was delighted to see it still fit him like a glove. Over that, he wore a knee-length silver jacket gathered at the waist where his knife and pistol were elegantly concealed.

When he sees the girls he almost has to hold his jaw in place with his hands. They all three look so ravishing!

Later, on his best behavior, he can't help but wriggle his nose pleasantly as the aroma of exotic spices float around his nose when they reach the banquet hall. Listening avidly to Monrayleux he nods along politely and tries not to react in an obvious way to the appearance of the food. It is entirely foreign, some of it appealing while a portion of it makes his skin crawl. Insects? Not a fan but he has to play the game.

"I'm KHazuni, the pilot of our vessel and I'm excited and pleased to be here." He stops there as he has strong views about religion and doesn't want to put his foot on his mouth.

Alerio clears her throat. It would be hard to step aside and converse among themselves, so better to be forthright:

"How detailed exactly? And how?"

Zuni takes no offense with Monrayleux not talking to him. Instead, he listens to his reasoning about fashion. Zuni decides that he could have said all that in one word. Uniforms. He wouldn't mind but the girls might.

Aesthetic Standards Council. Hah!

Meanwhile, he keeps an eye on the crownies who he doesn't trust at all. When the subject of brain scans is raised, Zuni raises an eyebrow. He doesn't plan on letting anyone or anything near his brain. He begins to feel uncomfortable and wonders if their decision to be guests here was a big mistake. In the interests of caution and diplomacy, he decides to remain silent and let the girls do the talking for now.

Wafer jacks are pretty advanced and Seally had thought she'd like to get one, one day, if she could stomach the installation procedure. Still, allowing the Florians access to their memories gives away the surprise of the their data find. They're vulnerable here, and if the Florians wanted the data, they could likely shred their computer system's security. Easy to do if they're immobilized during surgery.

She looks at the others a moment, very nearly chewing a lip in thought, and makes a play. "We obtained significant data from our encounter with the Alo'hei. Detailed scans, the likes of which may be unprecedented. While the data may not be as vivid as living our experiences beside us, we would be interested in a fair trade."

Alerio nods stiffly. She didn’t know much about implants or cybernetics. And, most likely, she wouldn’t be the one to get it, if such a thing was beneficial. Now… if it was risky, and the crew needed someone to take a chance, she was all in.

"Anything a little less invasive?"

A fair trade! for data sure but a mind share. No way!

This was far too risky a thing to do no matter the compensation.

Shared mental? Zuni's mind screams no.

Even if you do not consciously know what happened, your brain does. Zuni sees this sentence in his mind's eye and views its implications as dangerous. What else could happen in a shared mental that they wouldn't consciously know?

That was madness, but how to let the others know he felt this way? They were smart ladies. Were they perhaps seeing something he wasn't or maybe they too felt the same way as he did?

"This is an important decision, this sharing of minds. I'd like to confer with my colleagues about this in private."

Fallon steeples her fingers and asks the most important question: "And what are you willing to compensate for these brain scans?"

Alerio spies around the room, watching for guards, or anything that might suggest a readiness or ability towards combat.

Fallon hoped they had some idea of what the memories and recordings were worth. But based on their need, she has a good starting point. "Our ship was recently recovered after it had been stolen for many years and it is not in the best condition. If you could overhaul our ship and restore it to its previous glory, we have a deal."

Zuni was not on board with brain invasions and would now insist on a private discussion.

"Ladies. These are important decisions that we should discuss alone." To Monreyleux he asks, "Is there a room we can use to discuss this privately?"

He wanted to add, one with no surveillance, but that might have been construed as rude. Alternatively they could go back to the ship and get back to them with a decision.

Seally opens her mouth but Fallon makes a strong opening bargaining position. When Zuni suggests a quiet moment alone, she waits for the Florians to react.