The Russian-Galactic Exhibition (IC, semi-open, FT)

[OMGeverynameistaken]

derp

[The Polis]

If there was one thing the Russians excelled at, Julian thought, it was pomp and circumstance.

He stood in a sea of colour, display and extravagance, buffeted by the the breakers of people and currents of attention as they watched the parade of the Earthly states' best and brightest march past. The ceremonies had, thus far, gone off without a hitch - the Emperor's careful attention to detail and the close watch of his corvid spies had seen to that - and the delegates had been treated to a showcase of everything the Empire had to offer, sure to whet the appetites of states from here to the Alpha Quadrant and beyond.

And that, of course, is where he came in. While many other Russian officials had their hands full keeping the exhibition running, he mingled with the delegates and celebrities and commentariat, hunting for the beginnings of opportunities amid the fertile ground that was the event to nurture and massage into something more - whether that be as simple as an opening of official relationships between the Empire and a foreign power, or something much, much more valuable.

He did have to take care, however. Human as he was amidst a sea of aliens and posthumans and gods knew what else, he was still a foreigner - even here, just a few tens of thousands of kilometres away from one of humanity's cradles. To many Russians and other Terrans, he was a dangerous alien, born amidst strange stars to an anarchic, degenerate and decadent lesser child of humanity, little more than a land-less, title-less over-ambitious peasant whose presence was merely tolerated due to his carefully-cultivated favour with the Tsar. No doubt, the moment he slipped - it could be little more than a slip of the tongue, or an over-familiarity with a particularly hedonistic or alien culture - there would be eyes watching and racing to report their findings to Peter.

And so he waged a careful balancing act amidst the crowd, a figuratively masked man among many. His attire fit his appointment as a diplomat of the Russian Empire and His Majesty the Emperor, long may he live - a carefully-maintained dark green frock coat with peaked lapels and a starched, white cravat - but with particularly chosen modifications to fit his station. He had impregnated the coat with nanomachines brewed from the hidden garment fabricator in his quarters, which had ensconced themselves in the upper layers of the cloth and unfolded themselves into their final form, a thin layer of engineered plant cells packed with phytochrome, chlorophyll and other plant pigments. The effect of which was that the coat gradually and subtly changed colours depending upon the lighting they encountered, shifting between lighter shades of green to almost black as the situation warranted - a style that was very much in vogue on the Politan worlds, alongside much more drastic genetic modifications to epidermal skin cells, but was comparatively unheard of on Earth.

Thus he attempted to tread the boundary between positions in the Russian court - by dressing like the Terrans, he hoped to move amongst the Earthly delegates with more ease, but by also subtly drawing attention to his alien-ness, he hoped to comfort foreign delegates who might feel out of place amidst the admittedly old-fashioned surroundings of the festivities, acting as a small island of galactic culture. It also had the effect of putting many of the more reactionary Russian nobles at ease, as well, as he neither pretended to a higher status than they were accustomed, like many of Peter's appointees were want to do, nor did he debase himself by dressing lower than his standing and offend their sensibilities, which he sometimes relished the thought of, even if it was just his foreign politics jutting up momentarily above the strict behavioural controls he enforced on himself.

And so he stood on his perch amidst the crowd, watching and waiting for an opportunity - for both the Empire and himself.

[Red Talons]

A modified medium freighter deposited the three representatives from The Red Talons. The three of them kept to themselves along the trip to the completed dome. Quietly observing their surroundings along the path and politely following the attendant.

The three representatives arrived in the primary habitat dome. Lohel was the first to step out into the sunny expanse. A S'kan, her sharp blue eyes glancing around and taking everything in as she took a deep breath. "I smell alcohol... and a hint of... is that burning oil?" She brushed a grey lock of hair from her face. She was attired in a formal officer uniform, black shirt-jacket with red markings on the epaulettes, a pair of black slacks and polished boots. She wore her sidearm openly at her hip.

Hian chuckled, sliding gracefully around Lohel. "That would be diesel." The Icatan sniffed the air as well. "I do believe I smell barbecue as well." He wore a black and red toga vac suit. Not bothering with extra footwear beyond the built in slipper-shoe of the suit. He had a PDA tucked in under the sash of the robe, along with his personal sidearm.

The third, a Merr, stepped between the two, brushing them aside ever so slightly. "Well then... You both know how to behave... But just to be safe, I'll be keeping an eye on both of you." Kuror frowned, glancing back at the two of them before moving on. He wore a black sleeveless coat buttoned up to the neck. Purple bars lining the collar. He wore a blade on his hip, similar in appearance to the asian shirasaya, in black.

Hian and Lohel sighed, looking at each other. "Well, shall we sample the culture?" Hian asked, a hint of enthusiasm in his voice.

Lohel nodded, "Sure, I've heard many tales of these russians. I'm interested to sample the local brews."

And with that they headed off in search of refreshments and company, meanwhile, Kuror moved to explore the dome. Taking mental note of the various representatives as he saw them.

[Heliocalypse]

Command Rest Room
HCL Soros
Soros Detachment - Fleet Formation Vanguard Three
Titarus Warp Gate Relay
Milky Way Galaxy

With a stiff and robotic movement Renec moves inside the dim-lighted room which is clad in the official colour of Principality being slate grey while attenuated by sporadic mist of white descending from the ceiling vents. His robotic eyes automatically glows bright green as he snaps his attention to the middle of the room, "What is it now, Admiral Soros?"

"Oh? You had arrived, Captain Renec? That's...faster than what I would expect.." A small sloven chair of bright brown colour can be seen in front of Renec's vision, vibrating with the unmistakeably strict voice of Soros.

"Yes of course! Anything, for the humble, gracious and tolerant Admiral!" Clasping his hand together, Renec drags his feet noticeably inside the room with several thumps. Upon nearing the head of the chair, multiple cyan-hued hexagonal shapes start to form on his right arm as he lunges it toward the origin of the voice, "Forcing me, a lowly servant to his audience! In person...."

Renec abruptly stopped the movement of his right hand as he found he's grabbing nothing than plain air, "Stop. That won't work on me as you tried countless times before. It's nice to be young again eh?"

"Of course..your graciousness, Admiral Soros! It's the gift of reincarnation, given by Priol of Gauis himself!" Surprised, Renec takes a few steps backward, followed shortly after by the chair's automatic swivel, "Unlike you who are a war criminal..."

"I'm not one for name-calling, Renec. I have a new mission for you, and it's better than fermenting yourself in that claptrap thing you call as a ship." Renec stand frozen with a crisp salute as he carefully analyzes the hologram of Admiral Soros sitting on the chair.

"It's my pride, I built it myself..ever since the Pact was made, Admiral." He executed humble half bow toward Soros and would occasionally throw a volley of insidious glares toward the tattering image of the admiral.

Three windows of light immediately manifest themselves in front of Renec, displaying several interactive objects with one facing his eyes and another two flanking the sides of his face respectively. "I expect performance, Captain Renec. There are no space for brown-nosers on my fleet, and I'm pretty sure you know the consequences...of failing to perform."

"Interesting proposition , Admiral. One thing after another....no holds?" Renec's eyes rapidly zip across the interfaces as he attempt to extract as much visual data as plausible while purposely ignoring eye contact with the representative hologram of Soros.

The floating images of light in front of Renec quickly vanish as they had formed, in several disappearing bars of light. "Sorry, that would not be the case this time. You will be escorted by the people that I had handpicked myself and you know well what that means, Captain Renec. All of what you need had been predetermined and prearranged, so you may leave now."

"Thank you..admiral." Renec takes another bow toward the image of Soros and then proceed to turn his body toward the door. He throws another glare toward the chair, only to find the image had dissolved as the door of the room automatically open.

The glow of his robotic eyes rapidly adapt to the changing luminosity of light in the corridor as Renec paces his way with much tone of frustration. Multiple hexagonal shapes would occasionally form on the both of his arms, automatically suppressed by his logical thought a few microseconds later. He would prefer if he can do what he wanted, when he wanted without interference but this time it would be a farfetched dream though regardless, Renec gladly accepted the offer of Soros; a rational part of his mind had considered the advantages the mission given by Soros would outweigh the expense, overpowering his outspoken solitary of doing things.

---

Russian Empire Dock Area
Earth, Sol System
Milky Way Galaxy

Behind Renec would be a Principality drone ship, articulating its point thrusters with short stacks of light green hued exhaust after unloading Renec and his entourage over the Russian docking facility. It twitches from side to side in a small circle as its automated systems tries to adapt to the new environment before landing to a designated area set by the Russian space empire. The uneasiness of the ship is not without reason, the docking bay is unfathomably long and filled with exotic designs that the Principality had never seen before, or expected to exist. The sleek ship closely monitors its surrounding with its numerous composite sensors before ceasing activities on preparation of hibernation.

"So, I guess you two are my bodyguards? Haha!" Renec himself is not spared as he twirled his vision around, capturing the same visual essence as the ship in a single glance before shifting his attention to his entourages with a mocking tone.

Multiple blurred hexagonal shapes form on Kiro's armour suit, visually transforming it into a standard Principality official attire of sleek dark slate with white lines on the collar and dots on the hand cuffs, as she moves away from the landing pad. "As much as I want to laugh, I'd prefer if I'm going to handle the verniians than you, Captain Renec. They're more sane than you."

"Touche, Captain Kiro. I'm sure you would prefer to deal with all those snapwarts." Renec's appearance however changes visually faster, snapping the strong dark green colour of his armour suit into the same official colours of Principality in a bat of an eye.

Ethina being earlier prepared than both of them adjusts his staff hat with his right hand while avoiding eye contact with Renec. "Mind you we're on a diplomatic mission, Renec? I don't care what you do but orders are orders and your freedom are now limited."

"Weirdly I'm agreeing with you right now. We're now diplomats eh?" Renec lightly shrugged with a tone of sarcasm.

"I found that hardly amusing, Captain Renec. At least this is a nice change of pace once in a while." Slightly attentive as Renec, Kiro threw her glances around the area before sharply staring at Renec's robotic eyes."Don't try to pull anything funny now, Captain Renec. We have an image, to maintain here."

"Right..." Renec declares another shrug before turning his body away from both of them.

It's indeed a grand celebration as characterized by the hocus-pocus flavouring the docking bay and not yet the heart of the exhibition. Hailing from a fleet that had just arrived in this galaxy a few weeks back made Renec eyes scream in delight as he is given chance, one after another to observe, study and archive new information that he had never seen or hoped to seen before. It seems that his decision to sign up for the detachment was right, but he kept wondering whether his latest rash decision would be a more rewarding one or a fatal one, to act as the representative of Principality that is a galaxy away.

[The Polis]

As another leg of the eternal parade came to a close, the crowds around Julian began to shift. Many of the delegates and visitors who had previously took in the parade seized the opportunity to hurriedly cross the square and its adjoining boulevards whilst it was clear; some to seek out a place to sit and enjoy some of the refreshments on offer, others merely to find other forms of amusement on offer within the station.

At the same time, a new wave of people flowed outwards from the station's docking areas as latecomers to the festivities filtered into the crowd. It was these Julian watched carefully from his vantage point in the centre of the square - their tardiness cannot have been a coincidence. As the Russian commerce ministry and the Emperor had hoped, word had spread of the exhibition far and wide throughout the galaxy, and curious states from hither and yon who may have previously been uninterested in a relationship with Russia now had their interests piqued. The unfortunate image of the Empire as a backwater primitive had been tossed aside, and there would be many here hungry for a part in the new Russia.

In amongst the sea of humans and their expanded clade members, a furred shape caught his eye as it moved amongst the crowd. Humanity had long occupied a privileged position in the Milky Way, as Earth's children had risen fast and early to claim vast tracts of the stellar landscape - though often at the expense of alien cultures. Thus, while humanity embroiled itself in millenia-old feuding and the Alpha Quadrant powers rattled their sabres at one another, alien civilizations often were much more vibrant than their human counterparts, having had to survive as the underdogs and the denigraded 'xenos' of many purges, crusades and conquests. As Russia ascended, it would need the aid and comradeship of fellow upstarts, and alien civilizations, despite the grumblings and sniffling of the boyars, would be vital.

He began to follow the alien through the crowd, maintaining a respectful distance until he was able to get a clear look at the alien for recognition. Once he had a clear view, he fed the alien's appearance into his retinal implants and thence into his cortical net, launching a search of whatever hard-wired databases he had inherited from the Politan datasphere for information about the species. Such cybernetic enhancements were looked down upon within Russian space as being disturbingly alien and radical, so he took great care to hide them from potential threats - not that his implants did him much good here anyway, as they were severely handicapped without access to the ubiquitous Politan networks.

His search turned up precious little in both the Russian and Politan databases; brief accounts of second-hand encounters by ship's captains with a species identifying themselves as the Merr, a species of rodentomorphs, evidently part of a larger coalition of non-humanoid alien species of unknown strength and disposition, and a few isolated pieces of pop culture from several Politan border worlds with fragmentary mentions of a 'Talonian' cultural milieu. It was very little to work upon, but it would have to do, he thought.

He waited until the Merr paused for a moment, then made the leap. Heading the colossal mammal off, he, as casually as he could, started conversation. "Quite an event, eh?" He motioned, smilingly in a friendly manner. "I have to hand it to the Russians, they really do know how to throw a party." Letting the Merr know of his status as a part of the diplomatic corp of the Russian Empire would have likely been premature, so he decided to play the field and see what the prospects were.