What to Do with Jardin (Fan Fic)
Posted: Sun May 22, 2016 9:01 pm
653 days after initial encounter with Humanitee
Commodore Fragil Storm waited in her office, tapping on her desk franticly trying to control her irritation. The sight of what this long green haired officer had done to three supposedly indestructible practice dummies along the walls was a testament to this.
“Commodore,” she heard a mental voice in her head. “She is ready to debrief you on the incident.”
Fragile storm held back a series of horrendous things to say to her subordinate, simply telling her to let her in and be quick about it.
The doors to her officer opened quietly and swiftly; something she always hated. It had been millennia since the last truly devastating Loroi civil war, but her clan preferred a door that was noisy: if danger is to find you, at least know when to greet them, her mother, and her mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother would say.
The Morzen walked in; slender and pale, with short red hair. Her eyes were opposing red and blue, and there a number of tattoos on her neck indicating she spent too much time on the wild side of the alien cultures. Disgusting.
Still this was the best she had. Pressing a glowing patch on her desk, an projection of Alexander Jardin, and first Humanitee ever encountered, was brought forth. She admitted that he was intriguing. He was built like a warrior despite the fact he was male and his appearance was similar to her own race. Though her fascination may have been from a lack of a male encounter for well too long.
“Explain to me why twenty-five of the Oran Hos’te Bluc Clan now have twenty-nine purple children that have this alien’s DNA?”
“The scientists have not figured that out.” The Morzen managed to convey bluntly. She was a rather polite, even beyond the standards of her classes, but even she had her limits. “Chemically, cellular, plausibility, and anything else you want to measure by, it should be more likely for us to bear a healthy child of a Historian or a Barsam. Yet, Captain Jardin has managed to pass his DNA into some of our soldiers.”
“And how was that possible?” Fragile Storm demanded.
“Do you think I am pleased with this?” The Morzen snapped back, surprising the Unsheethed. “I spent the last forty years trying to foster better relations with the Hisk, when I am called back to have to deal with this mess. So cut the fecal matter.”
“I could have you hung for such insubordination.” Fragile Storm threatened.”
“And this entire conversation is being monitored for future cases of alien encounters.” The diplomat spoke. “Or have you forgotten to check if other minds are watching?”
Fragile Storm hissed and snarled in contempt, but said nothing. Score one for the little girls, the diplomat said to herself.
“As we know, Jardin was sent to the Oren School of combat as an observer and to keep him out of trouble. The Hos’te Blec of Clan Oren are a strange lot with more ceremony and adherence to ancient traditions then a royal coronation. One their practices included the sharing of a rare drink that if it were common would have been banned in our core worlds as a way of welcoming an honored guest. What opens the sensory and telepathic abilities of a Loroi mind apparently works as a hallucinogen an aphrodisiac for Jardin.”
“And how did he convince some of our greatest minds into this shameful mating encounter?”
The Morzen Shrugged. “The medical staff suggested to take care of his ‘needs’ until they worked the drink out of his substance.”
800 Days after First Encounter.
Fragile Storm was awoken as news of another incident with Jardin had emerged, This time with the Barsam. So late in her off hours was the incident, she didn’t even bother to change out of her sleeping tunic. “Open a channel to the Barsam.” She groggily ordered her underlings.
They complied and the flat face form of a Barsam had appeared. “Greetings, sisters!” The Barsam said in an irritatingly jovial tone.
“Greetins Iron Scale. What seems to be the problem?”
“No problem, no problem at all. It was just you kindly asked to be informed right away should anything of interest happen to our Little Brother.” Iron Scale said. His toothy expression Fragile Storm had long since accepted as not a threat but some crude smile.
“If there is not a problem, why are you speaking at this ungodly hour of the day?”
“How rude!” Iron Scale managed to get out, flustered at the typical Loroi rudeness. “I comply to a direct order from you and this is how you repay my show of friendship?” The diplomat shook his head that was pulsating with purple along the ridges of his brow.
“Forgive me; we’ve been on edge since the Shell attack a week ago.”
“Forgiven.” Iron Scale said, though any Morzen in range fond a slight bit of doubt in his voice. “Jardin was helping a group of striplings with work around a community devastated by landslide when a Dragon Tortoise arrived and began attack the area. Before we could gather the children away, Jardin had jumped on to the beast, and began riding it away from the city like a beast of burden. When we found him, he was battered and bruised, but was alive; the Dragon turtle was not near as lucky and fell into a ravine.
Despite Loroai discipline, the bridge crew began sending mental chatter to each other. Such a beast was difficult to kill with a tank, much less what the pacifist Barsam could muster. Yet it appeared Jadin had done something that rivaled the feats of some of their ancestors.
“Amazing!” Fragile Storm said, relinquishing some respect for the pink pest. “Where is he now?”
“In one of our hospitals, surrounded by a host of faithful that believe he has been touched by the gods and revere him. It’s quite exciting.”
So this is why lesser races take up fermenting fruit and drinking the poisoned produced, Fragil Storm Thought to herself. A few of her subornments caught the unguarded thought and giggled in agreement.
1000 days after First Encounter.
“A thousand apologies will not be enough for this transgression, but apparently the Humanitee’s forms of entertainment were too much to resist to see if we could replicate in a practical manner.” The Historian construct said. The translucent purple Hologram matched the ugliness of its Green Counterpart that seemed to twitch eerily.
“An understatement, most assured, young one.” The green representative said.
“Just tell me why Jardin and Fireblade are in a full body casts, how half a shell fleet was demolished with minimal loss on our side, and why there is a giant statue with a giant ‘V’ on its Forehead iin the middle of a Loroi base?” Fragile Storm said hoarsely. More humanitee had been sending their troops to study Loroi and other allied and protectorate forces methods with mixed results. The last time she spoke this much she had inadvertently challenged a carrier’s worth of Unsheathe to a blood duel. She wished she would have done that instead of this cursed job.
“Let us simply say that if given a choice to find ways to interface an operator to a giant fighting robot, either remotely or in a cockpit within the weapon itself, don’t.” The green construct snapped. “The so called ‘Zero System’ has improved the fighting potential of both Fireblade and Jardin, but also turned them into berserkers and only stopped when they both passed out from the G’s of reentering atmosphere.”
1300 Days after First Contact
“Um, anyone out there! Can you please send back up now!” Jardin Yelled into a radio as he put his back into a barricade he and Firestorm hastily put up. Despite the Neridi not much taller than a three-year-old, they had a bit of umph to them. He hoped the door would hold long enough for extraction to pick them up.
“This is Requiems Conquest, picking up the signal. What seems to be the problem, High Commander Jardin?”
“A group of Umiake sympathizers of the Neridi have stormed the embassy and have started killing everyone! We are hold up in the smoking room with the other survivors; ten Lorioi, a Barsam, a dozen Neridi, and some kind of sentient jellyfish! Now hurry up!”
“We are on our way. We shall arrive within one standard week.” The Loroi on the other end of the communicator relied.
“A week? Are you joking?”
“It is not my intent to be numerous. We are sorry for the delay, but the War Effort has strained are ability to respond to minor difficulties. Surly you must understand…”
“The Emperor’s heir Shatterblade is one of the survivors!” Jardin interjected.
There was silence for a moment that felt like an eternity in cryo sleep. “We shall arrive within the hour. Hold on, High Commander.”
Jardin clicked the communicator off and let out the first sign of relief of the day.
“Commander,” Said one of the younger unsheathe. “The Emperor’s heir left with her escort when the ruckus started.
“Thank you for the update.” Groaned Jardin. “If they ask when they arrive, tell them their princess is in another castle. Now shut up and help us barricade this door.”
1400 Standard Days after First encounter.
“Explain to me why we are having to reattach High Commander Jardin’s arms back to his body, Drogar Dundun?” Fragile Storm said, her tone even more defeatist then the last.
“Our humblest apologies.” The deep, grumbling voice of the the Dealias diplomat said as he held his tea. “He simply beat a young soldier at one of our games, and you know what they say about beating Delrias.”
Commodore Fragil Storm waited in her office, tapping on her desk franticly trying to control her irritation. The sight of what this long green haired officer had done to three supposedly indestructible practice dummies along the walls was a testament to this.
“Commodore,” she heard a mental voice in her head. “She is ready to debrief you on the incident.”
Fragile storm held back a series of horrendous things to say to her subordinate, simply telling her to let her in and be quick about it.
The doors to her officer opened quietly and swiftly; something she always hated. It had been millennia since the last truly devastating Loroi civil war, but her clan preferred a door that was noisy: if danger is to find you, at least know when to greet them, her mother, and her mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother would say.
The Morzen walked in; slender and pale, with short red hair. Her eyes were opposing red and blue, and there a number of tattoos on her neck indicating she spent too much time on the wild side of the alien cultures. Disgusting.
Still this was the best she had. Pressing a glowing patch on her desk, an projection of Alexander Jardin, and first Humanitee ever encountered, was brought forth. She admitted that he was intriguing. He was built like a warrior despite the fact he was male and his appearance was similar to her own race. Though her fascination may have been from a lack of a male encounter for well too long.
“Explain to me why twenty-five of the Oran Hos’te Bluc Clan now have twenty-nine purple children that have this alien’s DNA?”
“The scientists have not figured that out.” The Morzen managed to convey bluntly. She was a rather polite, even beyond the standards of her classes, but even she had her limits. “Chemically, cellular, plausibility, and anything else you want to measure by, it should be more likely for us to bear a healthy child of a Historian or a Barsam. Yet, Captain Jardin has managed to pass his DNA into some of our soldiers.”
“And how was that possible?” Fragile Storm demanded.
“Do you think I am pleased with this?” The Morzen snapped back, surprising the Unsheethed. “I spent the last forty years trying to foster better relations with the Hisk, when I am called back to have to deal with this mess. So cut the fecal matter.”
“I could have you hung for such insubordination.” Fragile Storm threatened.”
“And this entire conversation is being monitored for future cases of alien encounters.” The diplomat spoke. “Or have you forgotten to check if other minds are watching?”
Fragile Storm hissed and snarled in contempt, but said nothing. Score one for the little girls, the diplomat said to herself.
“As we know, Jardin was sent to the Oren School of combat as an observer and to keep him out of trouble. The Hos’te Blec of Clan Oren are a strange lot with more ceremony and adherence to ancient traditions then a royal coronation. One their practices included the sharing of a rare drink that if it were common would have been banned in our core worlds as a way of welcoming an honored guest. What opens the sensory and telepathic abilities of a Loroi mind apparently works as a hallucinogen an aphrodisiac for Jardin.”
“And how did he convince some of our greatest minds into this shameful mating encounter?”
The Morzen Shrugged. “The medical staff suggested to take care of his ‘needs’ until they worked the drink out of his substance.”
800 Days after First Encounter.
Fragile Storm was awoken as news of another incident with Jardin had emerged, This time with the Barsam. So late in her off hours was the incident, she didn’t even bother to change out of her sleeping tunic. “Open a channel to the Barsam.” She groggily ordered her underlings.
They complied and the flat face form of a Barsam had appeared. “Greetings, sisters!” The Barsam said in an irritatingly jovial tone.
“Greetins Iron Scale. What seems to be the problem?”
“No problem, no problem at all. It was just you kindly asked to be informed right away should anything of interest happen to our Little Brother.” Iron Scale said. His toothy expression Fragile Storm had long since accepted as not a threat but some crude smile.
“If there is not a problem, why are you speaking at this ungodly hour of the day?”
“How rude!” Iron Scale managed to get out, flustered at the typical Loroi rudeness. “I comply to a direct order from you and this is how you repay my show of friendship?” The diplomat shook his head that was pulsating with purple along the ridges of his brow.
“Forgive me; we’ve been on edge since the Shell attack a week ago.”
“Forgiven.” Iron Scale said, though any Morzen in range fond a slight bit of doubt in his voice. “Jardin was helping a group of striplings with work around a community devastated by landslide when a Dragon Tortoise arrived and began attack the area. Before we could gather the children away, Jardin had jumped on to the beast, and began riding it away from the city like a beast of burden. When we found him, he was battered and bruised, but was alive; the Dragon turtle was not near as lucky and fell into a ravine.
Despite Loroai discipline, the bridge crew began sending mental chatter to each other. Such a beast was difficult to kill with a tank, much less what the pacifist Barsam could muster. Yet it appeared Jadin had done something that rivaled the feats of some of their ancestors.
“Amazing!” Fragile Storm said, relinquishing some respect for the pink pest. “Where is he now?”
“In one of our hospitals, surrounded by a host of faithful that believe he has been touched by the gods and revere him. It’s quite exciting.”
So this is why lesser races take up fermenting fruit and drinking the poisoned produced, Fragil Storm Thought to herself. A few of her subornments caught the unguarded thought and giggled in agreement.
1000 days after First Encounter.
“A thousand apologies will not be enough for this transgression, but apparently the Humanitee’s forms of entertainment were too much to resist to see if we could replicate in a practical manner.” The Historian construct said. The translucent purple Hologram matched the ugliness of its Green Counterpart that seemed to twitch eerily.
“An understatement, most assured, young one.” The green representative said.
“Just tell me why Jardin and Fireblade are in a full body casts, how half a shell fleet was demolished with minimal loss on our side, and why there is a giant statue with a giant ‘V’ on its Forehead iin the middle of a Loroi base?” Fragile Storm said hoarsely. More humanitee had been sending their troops to study Loroi and other allied and protectorate forces methods with mixed results. The last time she spoke this much she had inadvertently challenged a carrier’s worth of Unsheathe to a blood duel. She wished she would have done that instead of this cursed job.
“Let us simply say that if given a choice to find ways to interface an operator to a giant fighting robot, either remotely or in a cockpit within the weapon itself, don’t.” The green construct snapped. “The so called ‘Zero System’ has improved the fighting potential of both Fireblade and Jardin, but also turned them into berserkers and only stopped when they both passed out from the G’s of reentering atmosphere.”
1300 Days after First Contact
“Um, anyone out there! Can you please send back up now!” Jardin Yelled into a radio as he put his back into a barricade he and Firestorm hastily put up. Despite the Neridi not much taller than a three-year-old, they had a bit of umph to them. He hoped the door would hold long enough for extraction to pick them up.
“This is Requiems Conquest, picking up the signal. What seems to be the problem, High Commander Jardin?”
“A group of Umiake sympathizers of the Neridi have stormed the embassy and have started killing everyone! We are hold up in the smoking room with the other survivors; ten Lorioi, a Barsam, a dozen Neridi, and some kind of sentient jellyfish! Now hurry up!”
“We are on our way. We shall arrive within one standard week.” The Loroi on the other end of the communicator relied.
“A week? Are you joking?”
“It is not my intent to be numerous. We are sorry for the delay, but the War Effort has strained are ability to respond to minor difficulties. Surly you must understand…”
“The Emperor’s heir Shatterblade is one of the survivors!” Jardin interjected.
There was silence for a moment that felt like an eternity in cryo sleep. “We shall arrive within the hour. Hold on, High Commander.”
Jardin clicked the communicator off and let out the first sign of relief of the day.
“Commander,” Said one of the younger unsheathe. “The Emperor’s heir left with her escort when the ruckus started.
“Thank you for the update.” Groaned Jardin. “If they ask when they arrive, tell them their princess is in another castle. Now shut up and help us barricade this door.”
1400 Standard Days after First encounter.
“Explain to me why we are having to reattach High Commander Jardin’s arms back to his body, Drogar Dundun?” Fragile Storm said, her tone even more defeatist then the last.
“Our humblest apologies.” The deep, grumbling voice of the the Dealias diplomat said as he held his tea. “He simply beat a young soldier at one of our games, and you know what they say about beating Delrias.”