Black Velvet

They finally reached the correct door, and Jules paused outside, reaching up to straighten Zuki's collar.

"Here we go," he said, "moment of truth."

He scanned his ID card in the reader by the door, and it opened with a whoosh, the panel sliding out of the way. Jules and Zuki stepped through into an expansive conference room, illuminated by light panels that were embedded in the ceiling, carpeted once again in UNN blue. This room was a little more tastefully decorated, with faux wood panels breaking up the white of the walls. It was all very upscale. Taking up most of the right wall was a large monitor, currently turned off, and there were the expected decorative plants occupying the corners of the room. There was a single wooden table towards the back, and there were four leather chairs placed behind it. They were oddly shaped and sized. Two of them were clearly for Borealans, a third was human-sized, and the fourth was more of a stool with no backrest. That one must be for the Krell councilman, and there was a space at the end that had no seating arrangements at all.

Nearer the entrance was a smaller table with seating for a human and a Borealan, more of a desk, really.

There was one man already milling about by the table, scrolling through something on a tablet computer with a gloved hand. It was an Admiral, his crisp uniform the same pristine white as the station's hull, his breast adorned with colored ribbons and UNN insignias. He was wearing a matching hat with the organization's logo emblazoned in gold above the rim, a globe contained within a wreath. He turned his weather-beaten face towards the new arrivals, setting his tablet down on the table.

"You must be Mister Lambert," he said, walking over and extending a hand. Jules shook it, noting the quality of the glove's fabric. He was an older man, maybe late fifties, and his Australian accent complimented his tanned complexion well. "I'm Admiral Murray, and I'll be sitting in for the UNN during today's meeting." The Admiral then turned to Zuki, looking her up and down, his bushy eyebrows raised as he examined her suit. "And this must be the Araxie representative. I have to say, it's a better first impression than we've had from the other territories."

"This is Zuki of the Araxie," Jules said as he introduced the two. "She's traveled all the way from Borealis to plead her people's case before the council."

Murray offered her his hand, too, her furry fingers encompassing it entirely.

"I'd welcome you to the Coalition," he said, "but that's what we're here to decide. You two are a little early, the other council members should be arriving any minute now. Feel free to take a seat while you wait."

The Admiral returned to the table and sat down in his leather chair, picking up his tablet and resuming his work. Jules and Zuki sat down at the desk, but they didn't have to wait long before the other council members began to arrive.

There was a whoosh as the door slid open, and through it stepped a Borealan who's regal outfit immediately gave him away as an Elysian. It was Torza Elysiedde, the nephew of the Patriarch. He was tall for a Borealan, eight feet and change, with broad shoulders and rust-colored fur that was patterned with faded tiger stripes. He was wearing what looked like a cross between a suit of armor and an outfit made from light, billowy fabric, extensively decorated with vibrant patterns and colors. He wore a tunic made from flowing red material that was secured about his waist with a leather belt, a golden buckle standing out against the tanned hide, along with a pair of knee-length shorts in the same style. Sewn into the fabric of his tunic was a scene like a tapestry, figures of hunters wielding long rifles woven from golden threads, warring with one another and chasing down alien animals. The depictions were crude, and the perspective was odd, almost medieval in style. Still, it did little to detract from the overall presentation.

Upon his shoulders, he wore two large pauldrons. The shining metal was colored red with gold trim, Jules recognizing it as a component of an Elysian Royal Guard's armor. They were strapped to him with more leather belts that formed an X pattern across his barrel chest, golden studs and badges that might be the Elysian equivalent of medals adorning them. There was gold on his fingers too, ornate thimbles that covered his claws, attached to rings on his thick fingers via delicate chains. The most eye-catching component of his outfit was the cape that trailed from his shoulders to the ground, however. The fur shifted hue beneath the light as he moved, sparkling and iridescent. It was rainbow spider pelt, the same as Yuta had worn.

Torza swaggered into the room, Jules finding himself intimidated by the alien's sheer mass, stopping beside their desk to examine Zuki.

"So it is true what they have been saying," he began, his booming voice coarse and gravelly. "I had to see it with my own eyes to believe the rumors. The Araxie are proven to be flesh and blood, not vengeful phantoms lurking in the branches of trees." Torza's pink, feline nose twitched, he seemed to be sniffing her as he looked her over. "You are smaller than I would have imagined, and furred like a kitten."

"You are Torza Elysiedde," Zuki replied, glancing up at him meekly. "I recognize the armor of a Royal Guard."

"You know of me?" he asked, cocking his head curiously much as Zuki did when she was confused.

"Your reputation precedes you," she replied with a deferent bow of her head. She was remembering what she had learned about Equatorials and their social interactions, making herself as inoffensive as possible. "You are an accomplished soldier and a trusted guard of your uncle, the Patriarch."

"And what might your name be?" he asked, clearly pleased by her words. "I fear that you have me at a disadvantage."

He was certainly eloquent, Jules would give him that. His uncle hadn't appointed him to the role of councilman without good reason, but he seemed just as proud as any other Elysian.

"My name is Zuki. I was chosen by my Patriarch to speak on behalf of my people."

"You are well informed to hail from such a reclusive territory, Zuki."

"Word of Elysian fighting prowess has carried even to my village," she explained, "and I see that the humans favor your soldiers also. They are everywhere on this station."

Torza puffed out his chest proudly. Zuki's flattery was insincere, she was buttering the Elysian up as they had discussed. But if there was one thing that Elysians responded well to, it was a little ego stroking.

"The Elysians know of your people too, Araxie, if only as myths and superstitions. I would be interested to know which of the stories about your territory are true, and which are exaggerations. Perhaps this meeting will shed some light on that."

With that, Torza greeted Jules briefly, who was admittedly far more mundane than the exotic Araxie. He then proceeded over to his seat at the table, where he began to chat with Murray. Jules couldn't tell if they were already acquainted, the Admirals were cycled in and out of the Security Council based on simple availability, after all.

When the door opened again, a long, reptilian snout emerged from the corridor beyond. It was the Krell councilman, and Jules found himself wondering how the beast could even fit in the hallway. He had to duck through the eight-foot-tall door frame despite his hunched posture, he was a hair taller than Torza and even broader. Krell never stopped growing. The longer they lived, the larger they got, and the darker their complexion became. This individual was sheathed in a layer of hard, thick scutes and overlapping scales like medieval armor, a dark green in color that faded to a lighter beige on his leathery underbelly. His long, oar-like tail dragged along the carpet behind him, his many-toed feet slapping on the floor with each lumbering step.

Unlike the other Krell that Jules had seen around the station, he was more elaborately dressed. He wore the traditional poncho that was draped across his massive shoulders, more for the utility of its pockets and pouches than for modesty, as the Krell had internal genitalia. It was made of brown leather that was sparsely decorated with geometric patterns, but beneath it, the creature's hide was covered in some kind of paint or dye. There were multicolored handprints and alien sigils staining the smoother scales of his underside that looked as if they had been drawn there by other Krell, almost like tattoos. He looked like he had just returned from a color run.

Around his neck, he wore a burdensome number of crude necklaces that were made from rope. They were decorated with seashells, colorful beads, and carved pieces of wood. They looked heavy, but then again, the Krell was massively strong. Jules couldn't help but notice that he was also wearing a wristguard with a built-in screen, much like those that the Marines wore as part of their armor. It wasn't of Krell origin, and it looked quite out of place.

The Krell opened his toothy maw and emitted a series of resonating calls that shook Jules to the bone. It was like standing next to a trombone, the subsonic frequencies making his teeth chatter, Zuki flattening her ears against her head in alarm. After a brief delay, a halting, synthesized voice came from a speaker on the wrist computer, translating the alien speech.

"Greetings, friends. I came to the parliament for deliberation. The Elders pay tribute."

The other occupants of the room returned his greeting, and more low, resonant tones were emitted by the translator. Seeming satisfied, he lumbered up to his stool, taking a seat behind the table. It must have been made from the same stuff they used to build Martian battleships if it could support his weight without buckling.

"That is...a large Krell," Zuki whispered. "I wonder how big they can grow?"

"About sixty feet, I heard," he whispered back to her. "That's nearly as long as your village's great hall."

The conference room was filling up, there were only two vacant seats now. Jules set his tablet on the desk and began to review his report, whispering to Zuki and pointing out some of the details to her. Everyone in the room was occupied with their own work, perhaps going over what intelligence each respective faction had been able to gather leading up to the meeting.

A few minutes later, Zuki's ears swiveled towards the door, her head following shortly after as she listened to something that Jules couldn't hear.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Some kind of banging sound," she replied, keeping her eyes on the entrance. It wasn't long before Jules started to hear it too. It sounded like someone was hitting a hammer against the deck. It got closer and closer, approaching the door, Jules watching the fur on Zuki's tail puff up in alarm. She must know that there was nothing to be afraid of, but she couldn't shrug off a lifetime of jungle instinct in only a few days.

The door opened once again, revealing what looked like a squat refrigerator standing on a pair of skeletal legs. The boxy chassis had rounded corners, white in color, featureless save for a dozen lenses and cameras that protruded from the forward face. The sensory equipment zoomed and focused, pointing independently at each occupant of the room. Protruding from the sides of the cube were four segmented arms made from shining, chrome metal, flexible like tentacles. Each one was tipped with some kind of grasping claw or attachment, the limbs retracting into the body as it passed through the doorway, then extending again to hang frozen in the air in unnatural positions. The door almost seemed made to accommodate it, clearing its metallic body by an inch on all sides. The chassis was propped up on a pair of robotic legs with backwards-facing knees, like a giant chicken, silvery pistons and exposed machinery visible in the spaces between the protective covering. The feet were cup-shaped, with no toes or any real detail to speak of.

Few had ever seen a picture or a video recording of a Broker, and fewer still had seen one in person. Calling them elusive was an understatement, they almost never made public appearances unless they were attending a very important official function, and their ships were rarely seen in UNN space. They had their own small empire that occupied several worlds on the fringes of Coalition territory, and nobody knew which one they had originated from.

"What is that?" Zuki asked in awe, watching as the construct marched into the room. It didn't greet anybody, it simply walked up to its place at the table and locked its mechanical legs in place.

"That's a Broker," Jules replied, "at least I think so. Nobody knows if they're robots, drones being controlled remotely, or if there's an alien using that thing as a suit."

"Is it made of metal?" she wondered, "it doesn't smell of anything. Just hot metal and...salt."

"Salt?" Jules repeated.

"It smells like salt water," she clarified.

"Strange..."

The Broker kept moving its litany of cameras. Some of them were on a kind of ball joint that allowed them to swivel in different directions, others extending like a telescope to get a closer look at objects of interest. Jules felt one of the robotic eyes scrutinizing him, a red-tinted lens reflecting the light, and he turned his attention back to his tablet uncomfortably. A robot didn't have body language, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it resented being here.

"Looks like we're just waiting for Vice Admiral Korbaz," Admiral Murray said.

"She's running late, as usual," Torza grumbled.

As if on cue, the door slid open, and a Borealan stalked into the room. It was a female, tall and stocky like the Elysian. But while his skin was pale and his hair and fur were a rusty red color, the newcomer's complexion was dusky, and her hair was a sandy blonde that looked as if it had been bleached by the sun. Her clothing was comprised of tight leather in shades of black and dark brown, her pants leaving nothing to the imagination as they strained against her muscular thighs and rump, creaking as she walked. There were belts and holsters hanging around her waist that looked as if they had once housed an arsenal of knives and pistols, but the guards had certainly relieved her of them before allowing her to set foot on the hub. It was almost a futile gesture, Borealans were never unarmed, their claws were like steak knives.

Her jacket was a little looser and looked like something that a biker would wear, and it was thick enough that it might actually provide some measure of protection. It seemed to be hand made, but that wasn't to say that it was low quality. The fine leather was adorned with golden studs and badges, decorative patterns were pressed into the material, and there were patches sewn into it. Like all Borealans, she didn't wear shoes, but she did have fingerless leather gloves over her hands that left her claws exposed. Jules noted that there were studs on the knuckles, likely to make her punches more lethal.

So this was a Rask with the rank of Vice Admiral? She didn't look like a sailor. As she passed Zuki, she narrowed her yellow eyes at her, exposing her teeth in a silent snarl. The Araxie's tail puffed up, and her ears flattened against her head in response.

Korbaz didn't greet anybody, she proceeded straight to her seat between Torza and the Krell.

"I think I was right when I said that we couldn't count on the Rask vote," Jules whispered, loosening his tie a little as the alien glared at him from across the room.

"She didn't seem surprised to see me here," Zuki said, her voice hushed to the point that it was almost inaudible. Of course, Borealans had more sensitive hearing than humans, Korbaz had probably heard his comment. "She didn't stop to sniff me either, she wasn't curious in the least."

"Do you think that means she's seen an Araxie before?"

"It is suspicious," Zuki replied. Unlike with Torza, she made no effort to appear meek or unassuming, she met Korbaz's gaze, and the two Borealans stared each other down. Jules had rarely seen anger in Zuki, but she could be fiery when it came to the Rask.

"Now that everyone is present and accounted for," Admiral Murray began as he stood up behind the table, "we can start the session. I'm sure that you all know why we're here, but I'll go over it again for the record. Recently, contact was made with a territory of Borealis known as Araxie. The inhabitants made a formal request to become members of the Coalition, and so a UN representative was dispatched to perform an evaluation. Today, we'll be going over his report in detail in order to decide whether to admit them or not. Each council member gets one vote, with a majority required to pass a motion. Mister Lambert," he continued as he gestured to Jules with a gloved hand, "I cede the floor to you. Please tell us in your own words what you encountered during your assignment."

"Thank you, Admiral Murray," Jules said as he stood up from behind his desk. All eyes in the room were on him, the Broker's lenses zooming in with an electronic whir, the Rask shooting daggers. "Honorable council members, before we begin, I'd like to introduce you to my companion." He gestured for Zuki to stand, and she did so, straightening her skirt. "This is Zuki, she is a native Araxie who was appointed to be my liaison during my stay in her territory. She put herself at great personal risk, braving the unknown and traveling across space so that she could be here today to speak on behalf of her people. I believe that her perspective and her experiences are intrinsic elements of my report. With your permission, I will have her relay those experiences where appropriate."

"I call a vote," Murray said, looking back down the line of council members. "All in favor of allowing the Araxie to take part in the proceedings?" Everyone raised a hand besides for Korbaz, who crossed her arms pointedly. "The motion is passed. Please continue, Mister Lambert."

"Thank you, council members," he said as he sat back down and gestured for Zuki to do the same. "I trust that you have all received copies of my report?" Everyone had a tablet in their hands besides for the Broker, who must be viewing it through other means, and so he pressed on. "If you would all turn to the first page, we can begin..."

***

Jules walked them through everything that he had seen during his stay in Araxie, pausing to address questions from the council members when they spoke up. The first one to ask a question was the Broker, interrupting him during the section of the report that dealt with the Araxie economy and the potential for trade. Its voice was synthetic and tinny, emitted by an unseen speaker, but the inflections were a lot more natural than those of the Krell's translation device.

"We are interested in the prospect of opening trade routes with the Araxie," it began, its many cameras shifting and focusing independently of one another in a way that Jules found rather unnerving. "Early trade will consist primarily of exports to the territory, and perhaps some imports of cultural artifacts and curiosities. Over time, modernization will bring with it industrialization and exploitation of the territory's rich natural resources. There are doubtless large quantities of hydrocarbons trapped beneath the ancient forests, not to mention untapped mineral deposits that will be of use both locally and as exports. As the Araxie economy grows, so too will their defense spending, as a flat rate of five percent of their GDP must be allocated for that purpose. We are willing to invest heavily in this process, as we have done for the Elysians. I believe that representative Elysiedde will attest to the positive results of such investments."