Morx on Site

Morx gripped the armrest of his seat a little tighter and tried to think steadying thoughts.

He wondered if it was too late for different career path as the ambassadorial class cruiser skipped nimbly past the sixth planet of this solar system and flickered down the astral shute towards their destination. Each short quantum leap carrying them rapidly forward and skipping chasms of empty space.

The sensation for a passenger was like that of your foot reaching for a step that is just a little further away than was anticipated. A mild drop you weren’t quite expecting. Then again, and again, and again.

Morx’s first stomach was never unsettled, his second was always reliable, but his third……..his third could let him down on occasion and this could be just such an occasion.

He tried not to think about it, telling himself that they were almost there and any moment he’d feel the soothing solidity of the atmospheric engines kicking in to replace the jumper core.

That was a soothing thought, temporarily. Soothing because it would mean an end to this hop sickness, but it would only be a short reprieve because then of course he would be there.

As a cadet at the diplomatic academy and later a junior analyst at the central office, Morx had enjoyed himself entirely too much. That was clear to him now. He’d always passed the assessments, just about, and as long as he kept passing, he felt untouchable.

Sure, maybe he hadn’t always been the most punctual, maybe he was quick with a joke when an instructor misspoke, maybe he hadn’t been the most enthusiastic when there was busy work to do, but he hadn’t thought any of that nonsense really mattered.

In Morx’s eyes he’d been the lovable rogue of the class. Popular amongst his peers and indulged with a knowing smile by his superiors.

Given his current circumstances he realized those knowing smiles were not as attributable to his inherent charm as he had thought. They had endured him, they had smiled knowingly and then, when it came time for their first foreign planet assignments, they had made him pay.

Now he found himself lurching towards a D class, nothing, recently engaged planet which was still in the earliest stages of evaluation.

The natives called it Earth which told you pretty much everything you needed to know about their intelligence and creativity.

Unusually they had reached the minimum threshold for invitation to apply to join “The Galactic Union of Peoples and People like Entities” (The Union), before achieving complete planetary unity.

It wasn’t completely unheard of but in the rare previous examples it had always been on a huge planet. These people were crammed together on this comparatively small rock yet had seemingly against all logic, somehow managed to persist with a system of some several hundred separate “nations”. Truly the most inefficient organizational structure possible.

Prior to receiving his posting, which felt more akin to being exiled, the only time Morx had heard about Earth was as part of a case study on the challenges of initial contact meetings. The traditional approach was of course to land and simply ask, in a voice conveying the appropriate level of gravitas, to be taken to “your leader.”

On Earth this approach appeared to have gone smoothly until it was established that the leader in question only represented less than 1% of the planet’s population. It was assumed we were dealing with middle management so the request to escalate to your leader was restated but met with general confusion.

Eventually, after a great deal of back and forth, a global committee of sorts was finally formed for The Union to communicate with. The number of tried and tested Union procedures that have had to be altered to deal with this truculent species is truly unprecedented.

This was of very little comfort to Morx, who had no desire to be part of a diplomatic cautionary tale. Of all the adjectives that could be applied to the assignments, “interesting” was not one he had hoped for.

Another ramification of Earth’s complete backwardness was the linguistic learning module requirements. Most assignments required you to learn one language, on occasion two were required and he had heard a rumor that one analyst a few posting cycles ago had to learn three.

Morx had been tasked with learning seven thousand! Between the assignment announcement and departure, it was basically all he had been doing. People laughed at him as he passed in the corridor.

“Will we ask Morx to eat with us later?” one would loudly enquire within earshot. “Oh no, I don’t think he can tonight, he’s got to learn seven thousand different words for bum.” The other would reply through guffaws.

The only saving grace was that human’s limited range of vocalizations meant every language was no more than a million words and only across a few thousand frequencies. They were pretty basic; it was the quantity that was problematic. He’d learnt the three thousand most popular and he’d have to just chip away at the others in his free time on site.

The hopping finally ceased, and the gentle hum of the atmospheric engines was a welcome comfort. All too quickly though Morx could feel the dull momentum ending embrace of the dock.

The structure itself had ports for three ships at any one time though it was unlikely they were ever all in use. Conveniently the dock connected directly to the Union Embassy building, one of four on the planet.

Disembarking, he was met by a colleague and was surprised to find that it was Ambassador Garz himself. He expected someone to meet him to show him his quarters and lay of the land, but he was far too junior to warrant the Ambassador. He guessed they didn’t get many visitors this far out.

Morx was keen to make a good first impression but struggled to get a word in. Once he’d introduced himself and made a joke about the new recruits looking younger every year Garz had turned and strode away.

Morx was momentarily nonplussed but then hustled to keep up. He was worried about his luggage, but Ambassador Graz was speaking aloud as he walked, as if he’d been in the middle of a lecture on human behavior and was now resuming.

As the ship receded behind them Morx couldn’t wait any longer and blurted something about needing to collect his bags.

Garz seemed mildly irritated to have been interrupted but didn’t break stride.

“Oh Lurb, will have taken care of all that,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Ah here she is now.”

Much to Morx’s relief they came to a halt by a door clearly marking the entrance to the embassy proper. He was grateful to be able to catch his breath as their new companion introduced herself in a formal manner as Second Secretary Lurg Bexrami of Eastern Pazavon, and Ambassador Garz’s personal attaché.

Garz went to enter the embassy, but Lurg raised her hand sharply and he immediately stopped.

“Has he been briefed?” she asked.

Garz answered that I had been thoroughly briefed. He was impatient and clearly felt he was being condescended to. He was the most senior officer on this whole planet, but it was obvious that Second Secretary Lurg held authority far beyond her title.

After correctly identifying an expression of profound perplexion on Morx’s face, Lurg sighed.

“The room beyond this door contains an adult male human,” she said, holding eye contact with Morx to make sure he comprehended.

He understood the words well enough, but the concept was taking some time to sink in. When it did the room started to spin. This couldn’t be right he thought to himself. It was his first day, never mind first day, he’d barely arrived. Face to face direct species contact wasn’t supposed to happen until he had undergone extensive on planet training.

Humans were a terrifying prospect, twice the height of a Troxo like Morx and more than three times the weight. They could tear you limb from limb with their bare hands if provoked. They ate flesh and had the central eye positioning of a natural predator. While much technology had been shared with humans their access to any with offensive potential had been restricted. The Union had yet to be convinced there was no chance that such tech wouldn’t be turned on either us or other humans. This was the kind of creature they were, only a half step removed from muddy savagery.

Lurg waved a hand in front of his face to regain his attention, “you’ll be fine, this male is known to us and has predictable and consistent behavior. When you enter the room, it is likely that he will approach quickly, possibly with his hand outstretched while simultaneously baring his teeth. It is very important you do not panic. He means you no harm and is offering a welcome typical of his people. We have found if you bow it prevents them grasping you, I recommend you do this slowly. He will typically mimic any such movement.”

“I basically told him all that already,” huffed Garz.

As Lurg reached for the door handle, Morx braced himself and tried to think steadying thoughts.