"With that, I will hand the floor over to Titanyana." Diana concluded her presentation with a full on bow, content with the reception towards the nascent academic proposition. She'd offered nothing concrete, merely stating the goals and elaborating upon what the program might entail, leaving the contents and scope up to their imagination. The range Arc had provided for potential educators vastly exceeded the minimum requirement, but depended so greatly upon extant factors like breadth of development and which industries were focused on that she couldn't make any promises with it. "Thank you."
Diana suppressed the urge to boop Titanyana on the nose or ruffle her hair as they passed, settling for a quick squeeze of the shoulder and a knowing smile. Speaking before a crowd wasn't her strongest field, and she could only imagine the pressure growing when faced with an assembly such as this. Even a short speech of gratitude was certain to be taxing.
"Good morning." Despite that she managed to keep herself from stuttering, though her delivery was a bit stiff. "I am Titanyana Strapper, Queen of the Nekh, and, um, I don't exactly have much to address you with, so I'd like to provide some numbers. Ahem."
She took a deep breath, looking over the notes she'd made.
"Five." A moment to remember what she wanted to say. "Five is the number of Trawlers, Terran void vessels, built thus far with the resources you've provided have so graciously provided.
Thirty-five thousand, the number of people that can be seated in a Trawler.
Thirteen, the number of babies born on Nectar thus far, among them a cousin of mine.
Two hundred and twelve, the total number of deaths from various incidents on or in transit to Nectar.
Six thousand and four, the total number of your people that have emigrated to help construct our new life.
186,762, the number of my people evacuated thus far.
And finally, 25 million."
Titanyana almost wanted to cry. How could a number with so many zeros appear so tiny on the page?
"If Nekh is dying as fast as I've been told, then the total number of people we will be able to evacuate is 25 million. It's not a final tally, in fact I've been told we can squeeze another four to five million people off planet with a few changes to the design of the Trawlers and a bit more discomfort, but at the same time I recognize the five year timeline . . . four years now, I guess, might be a bit too generous. Given the way these evacuation models have panned out, with the vast majority of people being evacuated in the latter days of the schedule, I've prepared myself for numbers as low as five million.
So for now I'll hold tight to the strand of hope offered to me, keeping sight of the dimmest of candles guiding me through the night, for even five million - small though it may be - is far larger than the 'One' I could guarantee before." Titanyana bowed, her original intent to kowtow as her people did vetoed by Diana and Monda both. Demonstrations of gratitude and subservience were separate things, and these halls were not a place for subservience. The Bishops were not looking for a puppet, nor were they expecting anything material from aiding her. "On behalf of my people, I offer my sincerest gratitude. Thank you."
A gentle applause began as Titanyana straightened back up. The few who stood up were perhaps more enthusiastic than necessary, yes, but were fully aware this achievement was not a victory. The best case scenario of 30 to 40 million was barely a percent of the total Nekh population, nobody honestly believed a 99% casualty rate was cause for celebration.
"This Bishop makes a request to speak on behalf of the assembly." The voice of one man roared out over the static of respectful celebration, the figure to which it belonged appearing quite decrepit in contrast. "Does anyone object?"
Silence from the crowd, their attention focused on the old man.
"The chair recognizes the Bishop's representation."
"Thank you." The clearing of his throat sounded more like his last gasps. "This Bishop speaks with full confidence that none shall take umbrage with my words, and that we are unified in my saying that we are deeply sorry. We are sorry not just for the loss you and your people are to experience in the coming years, but for our inability to help you any further. To assist those in desperate need of aid is our creed, and to have failed to prepare for such a scenario means we have done less than the barest minimum. After all, without the input of the Terrans - which bears reminding is a polity of but two - our efforts would amount to a few hundred thousand at most."
The ancient figure bowed to Titanyana, as far as his fragile and aching hips would permit with the assistance of his cane.
"In light of this meager success, I believe we should take the time to revise our current practices, revisit our ancestors' interpretations of scripture into law, and determine what must be discarded in order to follow Holifel's will most aptly. This Bishop cedes the floor." At this distance it was hard to tell whether his bow was one of grace or simply the process by which he returned to a seated position, but the room was deathly silent either way.
"T-thank you." Titanyana nodded her head once before exiting the stage, unable to stomach the awkward pressure generated by this gentleman's address. "S-sorry Donovan."
"No worries." She'd planned to give another brief speech about Petunia to elucidate and further enamor the Parliament, however that clearly wasn't going to happen now. "You handled the most important portion of your task, that's enough."
Donovan stepped out and straightened his uniform, finding the sight eerily reminiscent of one of his 'thesis' presentations in the academy. There wasn't a control board or virtual display of warships and their positions floating in the void above him this time, which was a fairly major difference, however the general air was the same. A collection of cautiously judgmental individuals of high rank analyzing his character, seeking to determine if he could be trusted with authority before considering his propositions. Given the apprehension of some, he had to imagine rumors of the execution made their way out here.
"Good morning." At this moment he really wished there was a pedestal for him to put his tablet on. "I imagine that most of you are familiar with my name in some capacity at this point, but I'll provide an introduction for those still out of the loop. My name is Donovan Strauss, the last Terran male and - at present - de facto ruler of the territory we currently govern. I will apologize in advance for any small misunderstandings or partial offenses that might arise as my background is one of a soldier, however I trust the lot of you will have sufficient grace in your hearts to forgive such slights.
What I don't expect you to forgive is the following - my present impression of you is one of disappointment. Now make no mistake, that assessment is not intended as an insult. I am completely certain that from your perspective there was little else to be done, little to prepare for. However I'd ask you to consider this situation from my end."
Donovan scanned the room. The good grace Titanyana had earned was all but squandered, but he did not care. This was a power grab of an abstract variety, an attempt at establishing some degree of control and display dominance in the realm of industry such that his instructions (when printed) would be followed without unnecessary scrutiny. Would it succeed? Probably not, but 'failure' would cost him basically nothing unless he managed to fuck up the messaging in a tremendous manner. Diana said she'd handle any fallout.
"When we arrived in the Sanctum, alone amidst vast swathes of people, we thought ourselves alone. The people I saw, vast swathes of humanity wielding a power which I did not and still fail to completely comprehend, were still quite primitive, and so I believed there to be nobody who could possibly understand 'us'. Imagine my relief upon finding, no, being thrust upon a state which despite an outward image of similar primitive functions maintained an internal society that embraced some semblance of 'civilization'.
Now, I'd like to acknowledge that what you have displayed thus far is still something I would describe as archaic under a more generous interpretation. You've not developed electronic computers, jet engines, composite materials, or any of the other forms of modern industry I would have liked to lean on to kickstart my own economy, however you possessed the basics - steel, concrete, and electricity - which was enough for me. Certainly better than the alternative, that being nothing at all. Imagine my disappointment upon discovering you still didn't quite live up to those meager expectations.
You could provide steel and concrete, but in amounts far smaller than anticipated from a polity spanning hundreds of planets. A logistical deficiency, an unforeseen consequence of space transport being far more expensive than terrestrial routes by land, sea, and air. Your supply chains, your logistical power base, lies exclusively within the self sustaining nature of planets - what need have you for such transports if not for exotic commodities and people?
So I tempered my expectations further. In hindsight this was inevitable - an industrialized void sector would have been desirable, however the complexity and precision of components required to convert electricity into controllable thrust and a Split-Space Drive were implicitly beyond the capabilities of a people without similarly complex automated systems to control them. I cannot blame you for that."
Scanning the room, Donovan took note of a few sour faces. There were surprisingly few of them, but enough to provoke a few responses when time came for questions.
"I experienced a similar need to temper expectations multiple times. The selection criteria for the initial colony site being the most prominent in my mind following a recent storm. Once again, I cannot blame you for it. The degree of migration and development you anticipated did not require considerations for vast stretches of arable land or mineral resources, and assumed an abundant supply of wood suitable for construction and fuel to be more important than flat land conducive to transport and sprawl - such is why I cannot be angry with you, merely disappointed.
That disappointment has led me to the conclusion that, while your motives and efforts can be respected, I cannot trust you to make the proper decisions regarding further development. In light of this I am making a formal request to the assembly to assume control of the council supervising our development efforts." Donovan anticipated some form of outrage. He witnessed confusion instead.
"This would not need to be an official position, mind you, but as days go on it becomes clearer to me that I must have a direct line to your administrative center in order to guide the response to developing situations and direct resources where they are needed most. I need as complete a picture as possible at all times, as well as the authority to make decisions. I cannot maintain a passive role at this point, a reactive stance will only cost lives and waste resources. A role that enables me to take proactive and instant measures, aware of what is and is not possible, and can be directly consulted by those in decision making roles as to the best course of action. I find now a suitable time to open the floor to questions."
The collection of the furious shot out of their seats, paddles at the ready.
- - - - -
"Diana," Monda whispered with a great deal of emphasis, "what's this about?! This didn't come up last night!!!"
"Donovan hadn't thought of it until last night." Diana, significantly less nervous about letting this information get out, could only shrug. "We ran some numbers with Arc, and came to the conclusion that none of our projections would be worthless unless we had both information and authority."
"But the council would do what you ask!"
"We know, but I'd like you to keep in mind that the council has done things without our input, and may have the capacity to do things we are presently unaware of. It probably doesn't help that Donovan was quite a bit more upset at the location of the colony site than he lets on. I'm sure he'd do anything to avoid a similar misstep." Diana winced at Donovan's verbiage in response to one of the Bishops. The translation via split carried the true intention of his words, but in English there might have been more hostile implications. "I understand there may be reservations on your end, but a minor increase in efficiency now could make a massive difference ten or twenty years down the line. If we can squeeze one more Trawler's worth of resources out of you, even if that Trawler only gets a single trip in before it all ends, then we can transport more people than your entire evacuation fleet can in a month."
"A bit of warning would have been nice, though." Kayes sighed, hand nervously rubbing the hilt of his sword in response to certain individuals in the crowd getting uppity. "I don't blame you, I've seen enough to know our limits, I just don't think cold dropping this was the smartest option on the table."
"We don't actually want full control, just veto power and a say in how things happen around here." She felt no discomfort disclosing their aims in this company. "Ask above your aims and negotiate down, a basic barter technique. It's also a good occasion for Donovan to practice being, y'know, a king? He'll need to get better at speeches and dealing with politicians anyways, and evoking mild hostility in a low risk environment is the best way to temper him. Books and videos and mentoring are good and all, but he's a practical learner at heart."
"Making our parliament a training ground is a . . . concerning proposition." Monda hadn't even considered that angle for her own training. In fact she'd not so much as engaged in serious debate with her trainers.
"Of course the secret third reason is because he needed to relieve some stress. Yelling at and arguing with politicians is a time-honored tradition of ours, perfect for dealing with anger, you know?"
"He's angry?"
"In an abstract sense, yes. He does a good job of hiding it, but I can tell he's reaching the end of his fuse. Setbacks, roadblocks, and consistent yet understandable underperformance will do that to a man. His position makes venting pent up rage effectively impossible without drawbacks to either the projects he's working on or his image, so the coping methods have steadily grown more . . . unorthodox."
"H-how so?" Diana had proven to be more than just a little liberal with her allusions to her nighttime activities, so Monda was slightly concerned this was a cry for help. Spousal abuse was by no means common for Holifanian couples, but not unheard of.
"He gets into arguments with Arc about 'air defense'." Titanyana spoke as if Donovan was out of his mind, though her thousand yard stare into the center of the room was more a consequence of being overstimulated from the cacophony afoot. "He tells Arc to refuse such propositions, and then proceeds to get into circular arguments with it - sometimes at random."
"The dragon is one of his bigger stressors, that's for sure."
"The, the what?" Monda tilted her head in shock, horror spreading across her face.
"The dragon." Kayes spoke as though it were a common occurrence. "Well, Donovan's opted to call it a 'Thunderbird' for the time being, but it meets our standards for a dragon. It's the apex predator among native megafauna. He could probably kill it if he got the air defenses Titanyana speaks of, but the aftermath of such an action is hard to estimate. We aren't prepared to handle those monsters at scale yet, so having it around to keep them humble and out of the open is preferable. Fucking terrifying when they strike though."
"T-there are dragons on Nectar?"
"Did . . . did you read my reports?" Monda expression went from horror to embarrassment, the 'o' her mouth made remaining in place while the shade of her cheeks shifted from a light tan to a tawny pink. "Monda!"
"I'm sorry! The introductions were just so boring I flipped through pages without reading them!"
"They were ten pages long at most!"
"I'm sawwy!"
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