The World Assembly Strangers' Bar

[Sierra Lyricalia]

"Okay, history lesson." She punctuated it with a quick drink from the bottle she'd ordered. "Way back when, nearly, I think two-hundred some odd years ago, now, the Aeravahn invaded us; they say we shot first, but those were colony ships, not warships, so fuck that. They were just two species then, the Velrahn, - spindly, bug-looking things, you could probably kill one with a good punch, - and the Serathi - Big fuckers. They made the Serathi do everything, and kept the war going for two hundred years, and so, when they finally ask for peace, we accept. Then they assassinated the Praetor and we killed them all. "

She paused to check a little tablet she pulled out of her coat. "Now, they're back, and they've organized the people in the Exterior Territories to restart the war. And, look, the fact that they're inside the barrier is reason enough to me to panic; they have a subspace drive, if there's one missing out there for them to grab, who knows how many got lost in the paperwork? Hell, last I heard, Intelligence was pulling out some new tactical computer or something, and now no one is picking up the comms; everything's locked down."

"Uh huh. Well, now... in the history of my planet, a 'colony ship' has always been a warship - not in the sense of destroying other ships at sea, but certainly well enough armed to carve out a new home in new lands, even if there happen to be people already living there. Naiveté and idealism don't strike me as Imperial vices, if you take my meaning. Though obviously I very much hope for the safety of your civilian population."

"Had they not been foolish enough to attack Imperial civilians - which cannot help any future peace processes - right now, your civilization would likely be able to benefit directly from associating with them, miss Zakalwe, given how freely the Esiat, who are one of the species of the newly-formed Aeravahn, will share technological know-how that is lower tier than the Imperium, but higher tier than yours." To Jasot it added, "I know you likely need to make a report of everything I say about the Imperium, too. Would you prefer to have a print-out of it later to aid you in that?"

"Yeah, actually, can you get it on a form two-nine-six-five? They're standardized." She hesitated a moment, then shook off the distraction. "And don't trust anything the Aeravahn gives you, it's always a pretext for annexation; get some nice tech, give them influence in your Government. Don't buy it."

Steph grins mirthlessly. "Likewise, trust is not a vice we suffer from overmuch. Many thanks for the advice."

[Potted Plants United]

Steph grins mirthlessly. "Likewise, trust is not a vice we suffer from overmuch. Many thanks for the advice."

"Which is a shame, really, for both your civilizations. You could both be so much more than you are, if you just trusted a little more. Miss Zakalwe, would you like the cure for cancer? Not just one cancer, but all of them? Would you like instant long-distance communication, even across solar systems or universes? Would you like efficient supply of food that doubles as life support and waste recycling? These are things I can easily offer. Miss Rahlen's civilization of course as well, and much more besides." The plant humanoid gestured to Jasot. "As an Imperial soldier, you basically only have your brain that's original in you, and a few more artificial biological systems, the rest is mechanical. That makes you unable to, say, swim, because you'd sink like a rock. I could offer you the know-how on how to build bodies from materials that are a hundred times lighter, while not sacrificing on the compression strength." The humanoid turned back to Steph. "The technology can be used in smaller scale too, not necessarily full-body replacements, and can and does function nicely with biological systems. Imagine never having to worry about breaking any bones, or of growing old and feeble as long as your brain functions well. But because both your civilizations have been born through a baptism of fire, you don't trust any such gifts to be actual gifts. I can offer you scientific miracles, but you will instead hide and ready your flamethrowers, simply because you don't understand that I am sincere in saying I want you no harm and only wish to help."

[Tinfect]

"Is there someone in particular that you are worried about?" the hivemind inquired.

Rehlan was taken aback for a moment. "No; I joined the Military early and spent the last few years on a ship where you can't do that kind of thing, until I got reassigned here."

"Uh huh. Well, now... in the history of my planet, a 'colony ship' has always been a warship - not in the sense of destroying other ships at sea, but certainly well enough armed to carve out a new home in new lands, even if there happen to be people already living there. Naiveté and idealism don't strike me as Imperial vices, if you take my meaning. Though obviously I very much hope for the safety of your civilian population."

"We arm them now, at least," she said. "Not that there's much reason to anymore." There as a pause. "Except there is now, because we're getting fucking invaded!"

Steph grins mirthlessly. "Likewise, trust is not a vice we suffer from overmuch. Many thanks for the advice."

"Good! You see, I was just telling Seretis that not every foreigner's a fucking moron. You're a walking argument for a visa program."

"Which is a shame, really, for both your civilizations. You could both be so much more than you are, if you just trusted a little more. Miss Zakalwe, would you like the cure for cancer? Not just one cancer, but all of them? Would you like instant long-distance communication, even across solar systems or universes? Would you like efficient supply of food that doubles as life support and waste recycling? These are things I can easily offer. Miss Rahlen's civilization of course as well, and much more besides." The plant humanoid gestured to Jasot. "As an Imperial soldier, you basically only have your brain that's original in you, and a few more artificial biological systems, the rest is mechanical. That makes you unable to, say, swim, because you'd sink like a rock. I could offer you the know-how on how to build bodies from materials that are a hundred times lighter, while not sacrificing on the compression strength." The humanoid turned back to Steph. "The technology can be used in smaller scale too, not necessarily full-body replacements, and can and does function nicely with biological systems. Imagine never having to worry about breaking any bones, or of growing old and feeble as long as your brain functions well. But because both your civilizations have been born through a baptism of fire, you don't trust any such gifts to be actual gifts. I can offer you scientific miracles, but you will instead hide and ready your flamethrowers, simply because you don't understand that I am sincere in saying I want you no harm and only wish to help."

"Hey, I can swim," said Rahlen, far too defensively, "I'm pretty sure. Okay, look, you don't need to swim on a space ship."

[Xanthal]

McCooley witnesses the game of solo pool occurring nearby, and decided to make an entry. Walking over briskly with his duffel bag, he sees a system of cues attacked to the table to allow for quick playing- an ingenious method of solo play. Hello, there. Slick McCooley announces himself to the man.

Riley looks up and straightens his posture to greet the man with a smile. Mr. Fluffer is a paradox- conventional and quirky at the same time. A human gentleman of Caucasian ancestry, 177cm, in his fifties. He carries some visible paunch about his midsection, but is reasonably fit otherwise. Brown hair forms a ring around a conspicuous bald spot which he's made no effort to hide, blue eyes twinkle keenly upon a shaven face which has only slightly begun to wrinkle from age. His shirt: a loud but not obnoxious Hawaiian style with flowers and waves, coupled with somewhat stodgy dress pants and shoes that would have been more appropriately paired with a dress jacket. In fact, just such a jacket hangs on one of the unused cues.

"Hello," he returns the hail cheerily then dips his head towards the group at the bar. "Sorry to hear about your troubles. McCooley was it? Apologies for eavesdropping, I always try to keep an ear open for the Lyrical Ambassador- I suppose you might call me a fan. Riley Fluffer: former and perhaps future Ambassador from the Xanthalian Federation, for the time being merely an official Observer."

[Potted Plants United]

"Is there someone in particular that you are worried about?" the hivemind inquired.

Rehlan was taken aback for a moment. "No; I joined the Military early and spent the last few years on a ship where you can't do that kind of thing, until I got reassigned here."

"And rules and regulations have always been sooo effective in stopping people falling in love," the hivemind muttered quietly.

"Hey, I can swim," said Rehlan, far too defensively, "I'm pretty sure. Okay, look, you don't need to swim on a space ship."

"So you are confident you will never be assigned to fight a battle on a planet with liquid water on it?" The hivemind sounded amused. "In any case, you yourself might not need an enhancement like that, but there are plenty of others who would benefit from not weighing double what a human their size should. Especially among the civilians."

Entirely not due to just receiving a clandestine note elsewhere in the World Assembly Headquarters, the hivemind's creature then turned back to Steph. "If there was a way for me to have a frank discussion with your superiors, I would be delighted to. But I understand the constraints of paranoia and security perhaps better than you think. So I will wait for them to contact me rather than try to force you into making promises you don't have the authority to make. You and I can still be friends, privately."

[Marxist Germany]

Klaus suddenly woke up from his nap as the bar became increasingly noisier. Great, it is finally time to make new friends, he thought to himself as he looked over to the pool table. He got up, grabbed the mug he was drinking from, gave it to Neville to clean up. He then arrived at the pool table and said the following to the two ambassadors. "Hey there, I was wondering if you would mind me spectating this game of pool." He was trying to smile as he said it.

[Greater Cesnica]

McCooley witnesses the game of solo pool occurring nearby, and decided to make an entry. Walking over briskly with his duffel bag, he sees a system of cues attacked to the table to allow for quick playing- an ingenious method of solo play. Hello, there. Slick McCooley announces himself to the man.

Riley looks up and straightens his posture to greet the man with a smile. Mr. Fluffer is a paradox- conventional and quirky at the same time. A human gentleman of Caucasian ancestry, 177cm, in his fifties. He carries some visible paunch about his midsection, but is reasonably fit otherwise. Brown hair forms a ring around a conspicuous bald spot which he's made no effort to hide, blue eyes twinkle keenly upon a shaven face which has only slightly begun to wrinkle from age. His shirt: a loud but not obnoxious Hawaiian style with flowers and waves, coupled with somewhat stodgy dress pants and shoes that would have been more appropriately paired with a dress jacket. In fact, just such a jacket hangs on one of the unused cues.

"Hello," he returns the hail cheerily then dips his head towards the group at the bar. "Sorry to hear about your troubles. McCooley was it? Apologies for eavesdropping, I always try to keep an ear open for the Lyrical Ambassador- I suppose you might call me a fan. Riley Fluffer: former and perhaps future Ambassador from the Xanthalian Federation, for the time being merely an official Observer."

(Dated 2017)

McCooley himself was wearing a light diplomatic suit. Aside from the duffel bag, he would not look out of place otherwise in this esteemed environment. "Wonderful to meet you, sir. I have represented Greater Cesnica to the World Assembly since 2016." As he said these words, a sort of epiphany came over him. He had reached the inner annals of statecraft, he was a representative of a nation like his on the world stage. Of course he had previously come to terms with this new reality, and had gladly accepted it. However, looking upon the vast range of diplomats, observers, and other World Assembly staffers, he felt a distinct sense of pride.

Looking at Riley, McCooley saw a man who had seen a lot of trials, and suffered arduous ordeals. Of course, the optimism in his Riley's tone somewhat eased his concerns, but nevertheless he couldn't help but empathize with him.

In the far corners of his memory, the distant sounds of shrieking air raid sirens and the percussive booms of explosions echoed. The screams of shopkeepers, of children. A relic of the trauma that had inspired him to seek this path in life. Before those awful, dreadful, terrible, abysmal screams became intertwined with reality however, the distant but ever-closer and oddly comforting of a second diplomat brought him back.

Klaus suddenly woke up from his nap as the bar became increasingly noisier. Great, it is finally time to make new friends, he thought to himself as he looked over to the pool table. He got up, grabbed the mug he was drinking from, gave it to Neville to clean up. He then arrived at the pool table and said the following to the two ambassadors. "Hey there, I was wondering if you would mind me spectating this game of pool." He was trying to smile as he said it.

With a drawn breath, McCooley finished shaking Riley's hand and turned to the diplomat. Gazing upon his somewhat ruffled attire, and given the clear reluctance in the man's voice, McCooley was able to interpret a sense of dissatisfaction permeating off of the diplomat's very stature.

"Under the weather, sir?" McCooley ventured, in his most professional and cordial tone, but ensuring to let a little snark in the picture- just to get across to this poor soul that he understood his plight all too well.

[Xanthal]

"Nothing serious I hope; I'd hate to catch something just before my vacation." Riley moves around the table to line up his next shot. "You may find the show somewhat disappointing but you're more than welcome to watch."

"One small mercy of a World Assembly assignment- we're protected from the misfortunes of our homelands. Of all the little corners of the multiverse, this just might be the safest." He sends the cue gently into the 11 ball, which drifts neatly into a corner pocket. "Defenestrations notwithstanding."

[Greater Cesnica]

"Nothing serious I hope; I'd hate to catch something just before my vacation." Riley moves around the table to line up his next shot. "You may find the show somewhat disappointing but you're more than welcome to watch."

"One small mercy of a World Assembly assignment- we're protected from the misfortunes of our homelands. Of all the little corners of the multiverse, this just might be the safest." He sends the cue gently into the 11 ball, which drifts neatly into a corner pocket. "Defenestrations notwithstanding."

McCooley snickers at this, briefly turning his head to remark: "I'd sure hope not, because I can't imagine an illness plaguing a good portion of everyone in here going over to well, you know."

He extends his hand to the second man, rustling his hand jokingly beforehand "The name's Slick. Slick McCooley."

[Xanthal]

"How did you get this job, if you don't mind me asking?" Riley tries and fails a banking shot to pocket the 12, sinking the cue ball instead. He tsks softly to himself and goes to retrieve it.

[Greater Cesnica]

"How did you get this job, if you don't mind me asking?" Riley tries and fails a banking shot to pocket the 12, sinking the cue ball instead. He tsks softly to himself and goes to retrieve it.

McCooley sighs softly, as he moves to join Riley at the table. As he picks up a cue and a pool rack, he begins to speak, a distinct baritone accent coming over him.

"I began my service to Greater Cesnica as a foot soldier. My specialty was operating field weapons systems."

He expectantly tapped the rack against the pool table, signalling his intent to restart the game and partake in it.

"I served from 1987 up to 1992 in this capacity. Then, I saw... I saw the distinct lack of purpose in my station in life. We weren't investing in SAM systems, ICBMs, in our underfunded military space program... We were throwing our money into throwing our people into the meat grinder, if you get my drift." McCooley gives a half-hearted grin.

[Xanthal]

Riley takes a step back and rests his stick on the floor and in the crook of his arm, allowing Slick, I wonder if that's his real name, to proceed with his intention.

"Military, hm. Dreadful business war; not that I've ever been within a lightyear of one. Decided to try your hand as a diplomat, then?"

[Greater Cesnica]

Riley takes a step back and rests his stick on the floor and in the crook of his arm, allowing Slick, I wonder if that's his real name, to proceed with his intention.

"Military, hm. Dreadful business war; not that I've ever been within a lightyear of one. Decided to try your hand as a diplomat, then?"

McCooley gathers the balls from the pockets of the table, and racks them. He takes his cue and aims his shot. The cue ball impacts 4-ball, triggering a cascade of balls sailing around the table. No ball is pocketed however, leaving the game open.

"I hoped to impact direct change within my government at first. I requested a transfer into a contracting position back home in Depla City. From there, I began to plan my entry into Parliament. The New Republican Party had just been founded after the 1992 defeat of the Conservatives. I decided to join them, as they aligned a lot with my centrist, slightly right-leaning worldview. In 1996, I ran for Parliament for the region of the Lower Badlands- my home, and the epicenter of my ancestral heritage. I entered office with the New Republican landslide victory. Then... I had to learn the art of arm-twisting and coercion."

[Xanthal]

"I'm afraid those are all just names to me," Riley replies. "I have trouble enough following politics in my own country. It's not easy keeping track of things at home when I spend so much of my time here; especially since time flows considerably faster there. I'll be spending twenty days in Xanthal starting next week and I'll only be away for a tenth of that, at best. The multiverse is as disorienting as it is wonderful."

The Xanthalian representative simply chooses the easiest shot and pockets the two, moving to take another shot.

[Greater Cesnica]

"I'm afraid those are all just names to me," Riley replies. "I have trouble enough following politics in my own country. It's not easy keeping track of things at home when I spend so much of my time here; especially since time flows considerably faster there. I'll be spending twenty days in Xanthal starting next week and I'll only be away for a tenth of that, at best. The multiverse is as disorienting as it is wonderful."

The Xanthalian representative simply chooses the easiest shot and pockets the two, moving to take another shot.

McCooley nods, waiting for Riley to take his shot.

"What initially astounded me was the utter bureaucracy. You'd have to blackmail people to even get referrals to contracting firms. it... it quite frankly pissed me off. But then, of course, we all adapt. You gotta learn to play the game in order to pick it apart."

[Xanthal]

Riley shoots again, this time pocketing the three. He searches for another shot while he replies, "I don't mind the bureaucracy most of the time. I do miss participating. Since my government suspended our membership I work almost entirely out of my office and this bar- attending debates in person I find it difficult not to speak."

The cue ball strikes its target, but the seven fails to go in, bouncing off the side and coming to rest just in front of the pocket.

[Greater Cesnica]

Riley shoots again, this time pocketing the three. He searches for another shot while he replies, "I don't mind the bureaucracy most of the time. I do miss participating. Since my government suspended our membership I work almost entirely out of my office and this bar- attending debates in person I find it difficult not to speak."

The cue ball strikes its target, but the seven fails to go in, bouncing off the side and coming to rest just in front of the pocket.

Riley moves around to the other end of the table, maneuvering his cue to between the one and five balls, hoping to pocket the 14-ball.

His gambit pays off, as although the 14-ball veers off trajectory, it careens into the 9-ball, which in turn narrowly slips into the center pocket.

"I must confess, my original intent in coming here was to set up arms deal negotiations with fellow 'friendly nations'. Now, I believe that must wait, as I have no intention of ruining a perfectly splendid pool game with the nuances of international business."

He moves a few inches up the table, and sets up his shot. The cue ball strikes the 10-ball, which flies into a corner pocket, in the process edging the 8-ball slightly.

"Although we can have some more chatter regarding our past. As you may have guessed, Slick is not the legal name I was born with, though McCooley is."

[Xanthal]

"Oh?" The Xanthalian patiently stands by, listening carefully to his counterpart.

[Greater Cesnica]

"Oh?" The Xanthalian patiently stands by, listening carefully to his counterpart.

As McCooley sets up a shot in an attempt to nudge the 11-ball into the other center pocket, he continues.

"Though I am not, strictly speaking, obliged to keep my real name secret any longer, I tend to do so as a matter of habit."

McCooley miscalculates his shot, and the cue ball barely glances the 11-ball, instead stopping after glancing the 5-ball. He sighs and steps back from the table.

"I was involved in a.... 'incident' whilst deployed in a peacekeeping operation in the Northern Territories of Greater Cesnica. Our unit encountered three enemy infantry units actively supplying rebels in a village. We opened fire without higher authorization. It was... a bloodbath. Though we were later cleared at court martial, I'd hate for my reputation to be tarnished any further than my country's escapades already have."

[Xanthal]

Riley swiftly pockets the seven from earlier. "I'm sorry."

[Greater Cesnica]

Riley swiftly pockets the seven from earlier. "I'm sorry."

"Now, now, no worries. I might just spell it out for you one of these drunken nights or another."

McCooley snickers good-heartedly, before stepping back to admire Riley's pool finesse.

"I've heard about growing tensions concerning the colonization of space. Does your Xanthal have any plans to get involved in the space race?"

[Xanthal]

Riley tries to make a glancing shot on the one, but misses it entirely; the cue bounces off the opposite side of the table and hits the fifteen, sending it rolling lazily to rest almost perfectly against an end wall.

"You would think space more than big enough for everyone; it's a sad testament to our nature that it's so frequently fought over. To answer your question, the Federation has no current territorial conflicts worthy of mention. One can never fully eliminate the problem of open-space piracy of course, but the major interstellar corridors are secure enough. We have expanded significantly in the past few years- Aellis' accession alone nearly doubled our population- but I know of no immediate plans to continue."

[Greater Cesnica]

Riley tries to make a glancing shot on the one, but misses it entirely; the cue bounces off the opposite side of the table and hits the fifteen, sending it rolling lazily to rest almost perfectly against an end wall.

"You would think space more than big enough for everyone; it's a sad testament to our nature that it's so frequently fought over. To answer your question, the Federation has no current territorial conflicts worthy of mention. One can never fully eliminate the problem of open-space piracy of course, but the major interstellar corridors are secure enough. We have expanded significantly in the past few years- Aellis' accession alone nearly doubled our population- but I know of no immediate plans to continue."

Getting drawn into the fray of an interesting conversation, McCooley tries to concentrate on the pool game whilst talking with Riley.

"I'm afraid open-space piracy is a major concern for Greater Cesnica. Though we may have excessively developed ourselves on Earth, most of our interstellar interests have been in military operations against piracy. We have colonies on the Moons of certain planets in our solar system, we share Mars with a plethora of other nations- kind of like Earth- and we've left the solar system for nearby star systems twice, establishing a total of four colonies outside of this star system."

McCooley sets up his shot. The cue ball impacts the 15-ball, barely entering the corner pocket as his aim wasn't quite so good. Nevertheless, he rolls with the situation. He moves to pocket the 13-ball next.

"What we have to keep in mind is that space is astronomically expensive- if ya get my drift"

He grins playfully.

[Araraukar]

Diplomat trots in in all their feathered feline glory and casually hops on top of a nearby table in order to get a better view of the bar. Being knee-high to most of the patrons was not conductive to scanning the place for interesting conversations.

Linda entered the Bar, frowning as she read the hand-written letter, only half-heartedly taking in all the weird alien creatures present. The feathered cat on a table looked lost enough that it drew her attention, so she paused by the table to pet its head. "Looking for your owner, are you?"

OOC: I not only have permission to do that, but have owed this post to her for aaaaages.

[Allied Sapients]

Diplomat trots in in all their feathered feline glory and casually hops on top of a nearby table in order to get a better view of the bar. Being knee-high to most of the patrons was not conductive to scanning the place for interesting conversations.

Linda entered the Bar, frowning as she read the hand-written letter, only half-heartedly taking in all the weird alien creatures present. The feathered cat on a table looked lost enough that it drew her attention, so she paused by the table to pet its head. "Looking for your owner, are you?"

Diplomat stilled at the sudden touch, before leaning into the petting. "I have no owner," they said. Underneath the Universal Translator's words, their voice sounded like a bizarre series of squeaks and squeals. "A boss, yes, but Ambassador Olsh is not here right now. Keep petting me."