[Earth – 2651 OS Prime] Birth of a Centauran

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    Razorback
    Participant

    Summary: The Stellar Consortium Council meets to discuss many issues, including readmitting Demaria into the Stellar Consortium. But things take an unexpected twist… President Dahan makes an unplanned exit to give birth to Marda
    Cast: Dahan, Avocet, Snowmist, Volnarra, Haistiin Windsong, Acran, Fimkin, AB145Q, Garunth, LeBeau, Everson, Narikki, Singer, Fireeyes
    Air Date: 1999.08.04 (IC: 2651)
    Council Chambers <Government Complex: Earth>

    This is the Consortium Council Official Chambers, where all of the Consortium’s important decisions are made. The room is centered around a large, black, ovular conference table. This table has six seats on each side and one at the head. At each place on the table is a small computer console and a microphone, for the use of council members. In the center of the table is a pyramid-shaped device; a holographic projector.

    Security officers patrol this room constantly when it is not in use, making sure no one gets in except for the members and their aides.

    Dahan has arrived.

    Avocet smiles cooly at Volnarra and nods. “Coda. Good evening.”

    From the balcony above: Snowmist arrives from Visitors Level <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Acran turns toward Avocet, ~General…~ He quickly turns to Dahan as well, ~Mr. President…I hope you are well.~ His last greeting carries very genuine concern.

    Dahan rolls into the area, followed by a pair of guards who take positions in the room, and another Centauran. With some care, they manage to get the President’s containment tank to its place.

    From the balcony above: Garunth sniffs the air and growls. He glances back. His scalp bristles stiffen. “*Two* Demarians,” he mutters, turning back to look at the chambers below. “My luck worsens.”

    Dahan takes its place at the table as the President.

    From the balcony above: Snowmist, looking distinctly uncomfortable, finds an isolated corner and seems to sulk there.

    Avocet turns his head to regard the Centauran. “I heard you had a bit of a near-miss on Demaria with the young one.”

    Volnarra bows towards Dahan. “Greetings President Dahan. May you and your child be well.”

    Dahan lifts a tentacle towards Avocet, and motions at it. ‘I will manage, but please try and remain calm. Now is not a good time for me to be in stressful situations.’ It pats its bulge at that last part in a knowing way.

    Avocet arches an eyebrow, smiling faintly. “Let’s hope for an easy agenda then, eh?”

    Dahan descends a little inside its tank, but looks rather cramped. To the general’s comments, it replies, ‘Just a false alarm, Generalcharlesavocet.’ Judging by the way it pronounces the general’s name like a Centauran one, it appears the President may be a little strained. Dahan lifts a tentacle to its computer unit, and taps its surface. A loud chime rings, signaling things shall begin.

    Acran clacks his mandibles sadly as he watches the Centauran.

    -+- Broadcast Begins -+-

    Fimkin arrives from Lounge Area <Government Complex: Earth>.

    With a bit of a waddle to his step, the Castori delegate enters, his walking stick tapping out his short steps. Head held high, he wordlessly moves to his usual chair and climbs up with no small amount of grunting.

    Dahan makes use of its computerized vocalizer. “Is everyone ready?”

    Windsong nods and moves towards the table.

    Avocet nods. “Ready, Mr. President.”

    Volnarra’s hue boils into a bright green as she takes her seat, her eyes on Dahan. “I am, President Dahan.”

    Fimkin situates himself, absently nodding to the president

    Acran retreats to a farther end of the room, waiting for his turn to speak his piece.

    Dahan waves slightly towards the Qua woman. “I presume you are the new Quaquan delegate?”

    Windsong says, “Yes. I am Condor Windsong.” Windsong curtsies.

    Avocet glances toward Windsong.

    From the balcony above: LeBeau arrives from Visitors Level <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Fimkin eyes the new delegate appraisingly.

    Dahan nods slightly, “Please you meet you, my lady. Ladies, gentlemen, gentle beings, let us bring this meeting to order. This meeting shall have two halves. The first shall be televised to the public. After a short recess, we shall open a closed meeting session to discuss matters of security.”

    From the balcony above: LeBeau walks into the balcony above the council chambers and moves towards the back and takes a seat

    Windsong takes her place at the table as the Quaquan representative.

    AB145Q arrives from Lounge Area <Government Complex: Earth>.

    “Now, let our first order of business be decided whether to accept Demaria’s re-application to the Stellar Consortium. Who wishes to speak first, before we vote?”, says the fat Centauran.

    Windsong smiles at AB145Q.

    Singer arrives from Lounge Area <Government Complex: Earth>.

    AB145Q whirs into the chamber and proceeds up the council table, assuming a position above where a chair might normally be.

    Avocet takes his place at the table as the Defense Secretary.

    The old Qua woman enters, her frail frame moving at an excruciating pace, and takes the nearest seat in the lower viewing area.

    AB145Q takes its place at the table as the Phyrrian representative.

    Volnarra takes her place at the table as the Vollistan representative.

    Fimkin takes his place at the table as the Castori representative.

    From the balcony above: Garunth slouches in his chair, gnashes his fangs and growls.

    Dahan waits for someone to speak up. “Does anyone wish to speak before we vote on Demarian membership?”

    Avocet glances toward Dahan. “Mr. President, I don’t think I’ve got too much to say on the Demarian topic.”

    Dahan dips lightly. “Then let us vote without further delay.”

    Volnarra raises a slim hand. “Is the new Demarian representative present?”

    AB145Q chitters and whirs briefly. “This unit sees no logic in opposition to this measure. But this unit also would wish to collect appropriate data from the Demarian representative.”

    Dahan points a tentacle in the direction of Volnarra, “I believe the Demarian who will represent their world is here.”

    Dahan rises slightly, “Perhaps I was mistaken…I’m afraid my vision is…impaired by my condition.”

    From the balcony above: Fireeyes mutters something about his vision being impaired by certain lizards in front of him.

    Avocet arches his eyebrows. “Mr. President, perhaps we should postpone, if you aren’t feeling well…”

    From the balcony above: LeBeau looks down towards Fireeyes and softly tells the Demarian to keep it quiet

    From the balcony above: Snowmist stirs and attempts to cover a grin at the mutter.

    Dahan lifts a tentacle towards its head. “No…I swore to do my duty, and my duty I must do. I can’t just relax for two weeks, waiting for my baby to be born.”

    AB145Q swivels its head toward the Centauran and emits a blue-green scanning beam that sweeps the crystalline creature’s body. The effect of the beam refracting through the Centauran is kaleidoscopic.

    Volnarra anxiously fingers her pendant, flickering between green and yellow.

    Windsong watches the process with interest.

    Dahan speaks, “Perhaps we should postpone the vote until the Demarian representative is present?”

    AB145Q clicks, whirs, then deactivates the beam. “This unit has determined that the president will at the very least give birth in two weeks. Or tonight.”

    From the balcony above: Garunth grunts. “We come to see government in action. We get a light show.”

    Dahan waves a tentacle towards AB145Q, and sends telepathically, ‘Please…that..feels odd.’

    From the balcony above: Everson arrives from Visitors Level <Government Complex: Earth>.

    From the balcony above: Everson quietly takes a seat

    AB145Q whirs and clicks. “This unit apologizes, Mr. President. Strain is unwise for your advanced condition.”

    Narikki arrives from Lounge Area <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Dahan shifts and squirms its body some discomfort. ‘Very…odd…’

    Avocet glances curiously toward Narikki.

    Narikki slips in, late and obviously knowing it. He does, however, move as quietly as he can, trying not to interrupt.

    Without warning, a couple quarts of liquid falls with a splash at the bottom of the Centauran’s tank. This liquid, it should be noticed, came from the sole orifice of the Centauran’s body. ‘My water!’, sends Dahan with a sharp note of shock!

    Avocet grimaces without looking. “Don’t tell me.”

    Volnarra gives Narikki a quick glance, then looks back at Dahan, her eyes wide. “It is time.”

    AB145Q clicks and whirs. “Affirmative.”

    Fimkin shifts noisily in his chair to get a better look at the president. Unsatisfied with his view, he stands on his chair.

    Windsong nods.

    The interior controls of the Centauran’s tank begins to short out. Quickly, the Centauran arches its tentacles into a ball shape under its body. Telepathically, it shouts, ‘Quickly! Get me to my office!’

    From the balcony above: Snowmist blinks and straightens, giving the happenings her complete attention for the first time.

    From the balcony above: Garunth growls, gnashing his teeth, his bristles flattening against his head and his eyes nictating furiously at the sight. “By the holiest of the Zanitrivexes, this is absurd.” He stands, clenching his fists.

    Singer smiles quietly to herself, her beads rattle softly as she nods.

    Dahan spares one tentacle to bap at its mobility controls, which are now shorted out and unresponsive.

    From the balcony above: Garunth turns and stomps toward the exit. “Light shows. Live births. Madness!” He thumps his chest, ducks under the archway and slips out.

    From the balcony above: Garunth heads into Visitors Level <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Avocet glances toward Singer. “Tell me you’ve got some midwifery experience. Please.”

    ‘Help…my office quickly!’, sends the panicked president, tensing its body with discomfort.

    AB145Q clicks and whirs. “This unit may be capable of bypassing the shorted circuitry.”

    Narikki stands back up, moving toward the President’s container, readying to push it along.

    Singer stands with some effort and moves toward the council table. She gestures to Windsong. “Come child, take a hand to help.”

    Volnarra winces and grits her teeth as she stands, walking over to Dahan.

    Windsong nods and stands.

    AB145Q hovers toward the damaged mobility unit, extending a manipulator appendage.

    Dahan sends, ‘Bypass it. Just push it if need be! Time is critical…I’m not certain how long my life support in here will last.’

    Avocet gets up, clenching his jaw, and then just moves out of the way, stepping off the platform.

    Volnarra rises from the table.

    Narikki says to the others as he draws near, “I can push. Which way? I’ll run if I have to.”

    AB145Q tinkers with the mobility unit. It powers up again. “Done.” AB145Q remains attached to the unit.

    Singer moves toward the door. Her steps unsure, but somewhat hurried.

    Windsong takes Singer’s arm, helping her move with more ease.

    Dahan shakes with nervous energy, and points towards the exit. It puts a tentacle down to drive the tank, but it’s clear its driving abilities are impaired.

    AB145Q handles the driving, guiding the mobility unit toward the archway.

    Her raspy voice carrying above the fray, the old woman says, “Bring him. The time is short.”

    Dahan finally starts to leave the chamber, under the assistance of Narikki and the Phyrrian.

    Avocet makes way for the procession.

    Narikki follows along directly behind, giving it a bit of a push once in a while if the propulsion fails briefly.

    <Dahan is transported to its office. Many follow.>

    President’s Office <Government Complex: Earth>

    This roughly square room is divided by a transparent partition crossing the space diagonally. In one corner, a small airlock allows passage from one side to the other. The far side has large windows revealing the New York skyline, and large crystalline desk facing the center of the room, surrounded by an ever present yellow fog. Behind the desk a Consortium flag is proudly displayed, illuminated with a dim spotlight. The side of the room closer to the door is kept at 72 degrees, with an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. A small round table and a few leather chairs and are positioned near the partition.

    Narikki arrives from Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Fireeyes arrives from Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Windsong arrives from Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Singer arrives from Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    AB145Q arrives from Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Fireeyes nods easing any wonder of his motives, “CSC. It is alright.”

    Dahan points, with some difficultly, to the small airlock that allows passage from the Earth to the Centauran side of the office.

    AB145Q swivels its optical sensors toward Fireeyes. AB145Q activates its blue-green scanning beam, sweeping the Demarian from head to toe.

    Volnarra arrives from Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Narikki pushes Dahan toward the airlock. “Is it safe for me to push you inside or will I die?”

    Still clinging to the young Qua, Singer enters.

    A couple office workers, Centaurans, float over to the glass. ‘Get the president in here, quickly and calmly.’

    Fimkin arrives from Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    LeBeau arrives from Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    AB145Q eases the president toward the containment vessel.

    One of them replies to Narikki, as Dahan is a little strained at the moment. ‘The air is unbreatheable and the temperatures lethal for most of you on this side.’

    Narikki continues to guide the President. “Go in, here,” he says, staying outside the airlock’s closure when he wheels the President in. “So I won’t try holding my breath.”

    Dahan finally reaches the airlock, and the automatic mechanisms take it through. The Centaurans on the other side gently open the damaged containment tank, and float the president over by a clear area.

    Fimkin moves clumsily to the airlock and looks curiously into the small window.

    Four Centaurans float over by Dahan, each taking two of its tentacles to hold. The pregnant Dahan relaxes a little as they do so, and its aura of anxiety begins to ebb. Soon, the uncontrolled telepathic aura that often surrounds these beings dies down below a noticeable level. It is remarkably quiet, on the other side of the glass.

    Windsong helps Singer to a seat.

    AB145Q whirs and clicks as it objectively observes the process.

    Singer gratefully pats the young woman’s hand, smiling softly at her. “He will be well now. His kind know what to do from here.”

    Dahan tightens its eight held tentacles, and shudders for a moment.

    Windsong says, “I’m glad he has others around of his kind to help.”

    Singer looks meaningfully up at the young woman. “It is indeed a great comfort to have common souls nearby, young one.”

    Windsong smiles at Singer.

    Narikki steps away from the window, quiet for a change.

    ~Oh, good. There are Centaurans here.~ Volnarra clenches her teeth as she walks in, then calms down.

    Dahan relaxes as the contraction ebbs slightly. During this brief period where it regains its senses, the president sends, ‘Please accept my apology, for disrup..’ It’s words are quickly cut short as another painful tremor fills its body, a small piece of which is transmitted to the group telepathically.

    Fimkin cocks his head curiously at the spectacle beyond the transparent wall.

    AB145Q whirs and clicks, continuing its clinical study of the activity before it.

    Dahan pulls on its tentacles hard for a moment, and you can almost see its bulge move a centimeter or two lower.

    Narikki barely shows a reaction as he only looks over for a moment, apparently preferring not to watch. Instead, he moves toward Volnarra.

    In a voice almost too quiet to hear, the old Qua woman begins to sing. As she repeats the refrain, her withered hands hold tight to a string of sky blue beads.

    Volnarra bends over, twitching slightly.

    Windsong smiles softly and begins to sing also.

    The four Centaurans surrounding Dahan start to sway their bodies, in a very calming manner. They continue to try and maintain this as the president grips hard for another contraction. As you watch, you can see the canal, the stem of the president’s body, begin to widen.

    Fimkin stands, eyes wide, mouth agape.

    Narikki says something up to Volnarra, quietly.

    Narikki whispers to Volnarra.

    Dahan begins to flare the ring of gills at the base of its head as it takes short shallow breaths. Oddly missing is any screaming or grunting from this process, as the birthing Dahan has no vocal cords.

    Acran arrives from Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Singer continues her song, which has now become something of a chant. The beads rattle quietly between her fingers.

    A lieutenant in Vanguard uniform – the aide to General Avocet, enters after Acran. “The general asks about…” He suddenly sees what is happening. His jawdrops. He suddenly begins to huff. He doubles over, then straightens and runs back out of the room.

    Acran rushes in without ceremony or announcement. He looks to Dahan with an expression of great concern. He tries to ascertain his status

    AB145Q swivels its optical sensors toward Acran. “The president is in the process of expelling its reproduced unit.”

    Windsong gazes out at the sky as she continues the soft chant.

    Acran nods slowly, ~And his life-support system?

    Volnarra clutches Narikki’s shoulder and slowly stands up, her face screwed up in pain. ~Forgot…how sensitive…~

    With an audible *shhwug*, the bulge drops about five centimeters, now centered inside the long stem of the presidents body. It shudders and tenses from the effort, but continues to breathe quickly and try and remain calm.

    Narikki moves toward the exit, guiding Volnarra. “Come outside then. You really look ill.”

    AB145Q clicks and whirs. “The president is in no danger.”

    Acran nods slowly.

    A slight sense of relief can be felt at varying levels corresponding with your current stress level.

    The four Centaurans holding the presidents tentacles move out slightly, bringing the tentacles towards a more horizontal position.

    Volnarra lets out of slow breath as her skin goes puce and mauve. ~I shall stay.~

    The old woman’s tones grow stronger, the ancient Navajo words coming a bit faster now. She extends a withered hand toward Windsong.

    Windsong takes Singer’s hand.

    Fireeyes taps his foot to the catchy chant while watching silently with his arms crossed.

    Dahan curls its head, edges down and in, as it pushes again. The bulge drops to about midway of its body from its efforts, but a wave of pain and fatigue ebb off it.

    Narikki nods, facing away from Dahan still. “See. If you want, I wouldn’t if I were you though.”

    AB145Q swivels its receptors back toward Dahan.

    Dahan takes a moment to regain its strength, breathing a little harder than before.

    Volnarra leans on Narikki. With a bitter smile, she whispers to him.

    Fimkin continues to stare at the proceedings. He now leans on his walking stick.

    Acran looks on silently. He turns to Narikki.

    With a final tremendous effort, Dahan pushes the small creature out of its body. Each of the Centaurans assisting the president spare a couple tentacles to catch it, then release the presidents feelers. With a sense of relief, Dahan wafts up about three feet, nearly colliding with the ceiling.

    Volnarra whispers to Narikki.

    Narikki whispers to Volnarra.

    Narikki’s head turns to look at Acran, quickly.

    AB145Q clicks and whirs noncomittally. “This unit recognizes the arrival of the newborn Centauran.”

    Acran look back to the Centauran, his mandibles opening wide.

    A smile silently melts across Fireeye’s lips as the newborn arrives.

    The quartet of Centaurans break off, one cradling the baby, and the others moving back to give the exhausted parent and child some room. The Centauran holding the baby floats up, and offers it to Dahan. ‘Your first child. It appears healthy. Would you care to hold it, Dahanovoheanipeymek?’

    The ancient Qua melody rises to a crescendo of rejoicing, then ends.

    Singer, clearly winded from her efforts, smiles warmly.

    Volnarra murmurs, “Congratulations, President Dahan. A new song has begun.”

    Acran breaks into a loud clacking. Apparently a pronouncement in his own language.

    Dahan descends to an acceptable level, looking more relaxed now. With an aura of love, it accepts the child, and lifts it into its field of vision. ‘My baby…’

    As the baby erupts from the president’s body, the Castori delegate falls to the floor in a dead faint.

    AB145Q swivels its receptors toward the Castori, clicking and whirring. Almost clinically, it emits the usual blue-green scanning beam and sweeps the creature’s form.

    Windsong moves to the Castori, kneeling next to him. Windsong glances at AB145Q, “Is he ok?”

    Dahan cradles the child with four tentacles, and cleans it off with a fifth.

    (The child was a little gooey.) ‘I shall give you the syllable Mar, thereby naming you, Mardahanovoheanipeymek.’, pronounces the new parent.

    AB145Q whirs and clicks. “The Castori unit slumbers.”

    Windsong nods. Windsong says, “He should recover soon.”

    Fimkin’s nose wrinkles and his eyes flutter open. “Frightening, very frightening, he mutters.

    Windsong smiles at Fimkin. “Do you feel ok now?”

    Fimkin shudders almost theatrically and gets to his feet. “I will never feel ok again.”

    Dahan spends a long moment, conscious only of the new life form. But after that moment passes, the president moves over by the partition. ‘As I tried to say before, I must apologize for interrupting this meeting this way. It could not be helped.’

    Windsong stands back up, watching to make sure Fimkin is steady.

    Fimkin moves toward the door. “I must excuse myself. Congratulations, Mr. President.”

    Acran chortles, ~No apology necessary Mr. President….~

    Narikki continues to not face Dahan. “Safe to look yet?”

    With that, Fimkin waddles out of the room.

    Fimkin heads into Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    AB145Q swivels its optical receptors toward Dahan. “This unit recommends postponing until a future date. The act of birth for any race is often stressful. Not, of course, for Phyrrians. Our young are manufactured.”

    Acran clacks, ~Yes Apex…~

    Singer chuckles to herself.

    Volnarra nods. “It is safe.”

    Windsong moves back towards Singer, smiling to herself.

    Dahan tips its wide head, which is now showing a little of the streach marks from the pregnancy. ‘Agreed. I now need time to recover, and to let the child rest too.’

    AB145Q clicks and whirs. “This unit will inform the public.”

    Marda is sleeping now, inside Dahan’s cradle. Every so often, it wiggles a tentacle. It looks like an angel.

    AB145Q hums along, hovering toward the door.

    AB145Q heads into Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Acran bows, his wings opening widely. He retreats from the room, ~Congratulations….~

    Acran heads into Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>

    Dahan turns and floats away from the window, it’s attention now fully returned to its newborn.

    Singer joins her hands in a gesture of absolute pleasure, her eyes dancing with delight.

    Windsong nods to Singer. Windsong says, “I think I’m going to enjoy being here.”

    Volnarra finally releases her grip from Narikki’s shoulder and sends, ~Once again, congratulations. Be well.~ She bows and leaves.

    Fireeyes adjusts his cufflinks for a second, then leaves the room with a silent turn and stride.

    Volnarra heads into Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Fireeyes heads into Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Dahan floats down into a pad on the floor, and places the infant on a bed of its tentacles. Both look like they’re very sleepy.

    With some effort, the old woman stands and looks into Windsong’s face for a long moment. “I think perhaps you will, child.”

    Narikki heads out as well, without another word.

    Narikki heads into Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    LeBeau heads into Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Windsong offers Singer her arm.

    Singer takes the arm gratefully and moves creakily toward the door.

    Singer heads into Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Windsong says, “Congratulations Mr President. May your child bring you much joy.”

    Windsong heads into Office Level Lobby <Government Complex: Earth>.

    Dahan telepathically sends Windsong a sleepy, ‘I’m sure it shall.’

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