AU: To Boldly Go Where No One Has Gone Before (Sean)

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It was the year 2345, approximately 3 centuries from the time when the people of earth finally achieved faster-than-light interstellar travel, enabling them to jump from system to system in the mere blink of an eye.  The very first anti-matter warp engines had been crude and slow in comparison to those of their immediate alien neighbors, but an alliance between the two peoples led to the perfection of these technologies, the humans offering up technologies of their own as a show of good faith.  This would be the beginning of the Star Alliance, which later became known as The Alliance of Planets, as more and more worlds and species and cultures became a part of it.  And at the center of it all were the humans(arrogant bastards), joining them all together into a big melting pot of races and cultures(yeah, right) for the sake of intergalactic peace(fat chance).

Call Dr. Derek Seong a cynic, but he was positive that this whole alliance endeavor was just a temporary idealment, and the first sign of trouble from one of the branches would result either in all out war or the Alliance doing some heavy pruning on their membership. Then they’d be tossed into the wood-chipper, so to speak. There were many a fishy things that no doubt went on behind the scenes in this organization, and the ignorant peons at the lowest levels hadn’t a clue of where that reptilian ‘friend’ of theirs disappeared to the moment someone complained about their pathetic ability to integrate into the culture. The proper culture. Human culture. Because humans were a race of ego-centric pissants who thought that their way was the only way.

Obviously they learned nothing from history.  His own people made him sick. And here he was, stuffed in a shuttle with this other diplomatic guy(Sean Neville, an old time friend, if you can believe it), zooming off on a mission to further enable this supremacist consortium.

Derek was not happy about this, suffice to say. He had better things to do than to go on another diplomatic mission to some world on the edge of the galaxy that would do just as well if they simply ignored them for the next eon or so. “What kind of name is Mitt’ians anyway?” Derek griped to his companion. “It sounds like they were trying to go for “mittens” but their lisp got in the way.” He scoffed and crossed his arms, glaring at the console in front of him as if it had just done him some disservice. “Figures it’d be a race of cat-people to come up with a name like that. I’m sure they’ll be pissing on the deck of every bridge in the Alliance before long.” Derek was not a cat person, obviously.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Doctor Sean Neville possessed far greater optimism about the purpose of the Alliance of Planets, even if he acknowledged that, while humankind continued to improve with each passing decade, there remained weak areas. Still, he firmly believed – and telepathy confirmed – that there existed more people like him than there were those who would deliberately exploit other species, or who held strict definitions of superiority. The fact that they judged species based on sentience rather than to how closely they resembled human beings illustrated that.

His friendly and compassionate manner, his easy-going nature, as well as his specialty in psychiatry, had made him a valuable asset as a diplomat. Often, Headquarters would send him out for key missions: either first contacts or to extend invitations to join the Alliance of Planets, or for finalizing details for new admissions.

Headquarters had hand-selected him to go to the Mitt’ian home world to work with the cat people there. For some baffling reason, they had also selected Derek Seong.

Sean liked Derek. He thought the other man was hard-working and intelligent, and they were friends. He also knew how deeply cynical Derek could be, which made him a curious choice at best, but, no matter, as they were underway, and the psychiatrist took his tasks seriously.

“Cats bury their waste,” he reminded his friend, as he looked over the briefing information that they had been provided. Although he also was not a cat person (and, in fact, did not care for any animal species great or small), he had confidence that the group they were to visit would be under control. Nobody wanted to work heel-deep in their own urine, and, truly, Sean didn’t want to think about it.

“Supposedly, their ambassador is very friendly.” Which would aid with their mission, and, Sean thought, simultaneously irritate the other man even more.

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Weak areas was putting it lightly. It was making excuses for humankind, Derek would say. But his companion was one of those bleeding hearts optimists who somehow saw the bright side of everything. How did he manage the stamina for that line of thinking when there was so much evidence to the contrary?

Oh, well….none of it was going to change the fact that they both had a job to do, as unpleasant as it was no doubt going to be. Despite his griping, Derek, too, took his job seriously. But he was a doctor, not a diplomat, so why they chose him for this mission also confounded him. People - whether they had fingers or fins, eyebrows or whiskers - were not his strength. If he could lock himself up in a laboratory somewhere and never have any interaction with any species, it would be his eden. Unfortunately, people skills were required even in that industry. Research had to be approved and funded and supplies had to be obtained and specimens had to be gathered. The less contact this man had with people, the better, but erasing it completely was an unfortunate impossibility.

“Not when they’re marking territory,” he countered with a slight eye-roll. “Which is the point I was making.” Again, Derek was not a cat person, nor was he a dog person, or any other sort of person. Hell, he wasn’t even a people person. But as a doctor required to look at at least a dozen different races per day, he had at least a base knowledge of the biology and behaviors of a might wide array of species, both sentient and pets alike. That was, no doubt, why they selected him to go on this mission. As a new species being introduced into the Alliance, they no doubt wanted him to give a full report on their anatomy and biology.

Sigh….work, work, work…. Derek yawned. “How…much longer until we get there?”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“They won’t do that.” Sean had confidence that anyone entering into a diplomatic or cultural exchange would have the good manners not to mark territory at all, and certainly not in a crude fashion. After all, humans had descended from apes, and they didn’t fling feces at each other when angry. Even if certain vitriol in argument could be called that.

At the question, he replied, “Another day and a half.” At their present speed, they would reach their destination in slightly under thirty-six hours, at which point they could stretch their legs before diving into diplomatic duties.

He looked forward to breathing fresh atmosphere rather than recycled air. He was well-suited to diplomatic missions and to space travel, in that he suffered no claustrophobia, no fear of technology, no existential terror that might cause erratic behavior on longer voyages, no fear of new cultures or environments, and he was easily adaptable. However, he felt most at home with ground under his feet and fresh air in his lungs.

Sean turned back to the cultural report that had been prepared for them, scanning the dietary habits and finding nothing particularly surprising. Like cats on Earth, it appeared that this planet’s inhabitants were obligate carnivores, which meant that they could expect a heavily meat-laden meal. “I admit, I’m curious about the medical exchange.”

He was always curious about the medical exchanges, although that occurred later in the process. After more solid diplomatic channels had been established.

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“What proof do you have of that? We only have the most basic of understanding of their culture,” he defended. “For all we know it’s some unspoken, sacred custom to urinate on each other’s property, like some sort of flag that says “hey I was here!” Or worse, maybe they do throw feces at each other to celebrate a special occasion. Like joining into an alliance.” Derek scoffed. He could imagine it now, turds flying through the air, some specifically aimed at the face. And if you hit, then that was considered an ‘honor’. “I’m not wrapping my hands around any shit unless it’s for an exam, and that’s a promise.”

Derek was making a lot of noise, but Sean ought to know that that was all it was. Noise. If there was any fault to find with anything, real or imagined, then Derek knew how to point it out. That might be why his list of trustworthy friends over the years had dwindled to include a mere handful of people, Sean included.

The doctor made a annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was a reasonably patient person, in that he understood that things took time and yelling louder didn’t make things go faster, but he still disliked waiting, specifically when it came to traveling.

He looked up at Sean’s comment, then reached to grab his own copy of the report. “There isn’t much to exchange, to be honest,” he said, scanning through the report. “There’s some flora that I’d like to look into more, one is apparently used as as crude anesthetic.” Then there was this other angiosperm that they seemed to use in some religious ceremony. Derek suspected it to be a hallucinogen, but it didn’t hurt to analyze any potentially hazardous plant that were intended to be used as ‘medicine’. For all they knew, those medicines were more harmful than helpful, to both their species.

“Why is the Alliance bothering with these Mitt’ians anyway? They have next to nothing they can offer the Alliance, their technology has only barely achieved space travel, and yet we’re sent to go bow and scrape to their ambassador in order to secure them a spot on the counsel.” Derek scowled down at the report, going back to review it point by point. “It doesn’t make sense.”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean hoped that arguing put the other man in some semblance of a better mood. Derek always had been a contrarian, and if that invigorated him and allowed him to get it out of his system now rather than stewing in resentment during the diplomatic mission, then all the better. He could hold his own against the other man. “I don’t have any more evidence than you do, and so I’m extrapolating too. But we did give them similar intelligence about customs, so they know what to expect from us, and that counts for something.” He expected other cultures to take customs to heart, just as the Alliance did with theirs.

Then he shrugged. “Besides, it wouldn’t make any evolutionary sense for them to fling feces at each other. They’re cat people from a desert world.”

He shrugged again. “That’s a start.” Flora had never been the psychiatrist’s area of focus; he preferred people so he could get to the root of their mindsets and behaviors. However, any discovery or scientific information they could learn would be a net positive as far as he was concerned.

Sean set his copy of the report aside and kept his attention on Derek. “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. They’ve met the minimum requirements for Alliance membership, so why wouldn’t we extend an invitation?” None of the member worlds had objected to the diplomatic mission, so they had that going for them as well.

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Sean knew the doctor well and while he may never say so - Derek’s stubbornness kept him from admitting a lot of thing - he did appreciate friends who allowed him to be the griping jerk he normally was. He liked to rant. He had a lot of things to rant about. That didn’t mean he didn’t understand the ways of the world or how to be a professional when the situation called for it. And it didn’t mean that he didn’t now how to listen to logic when it was sound. “Hmph,” was all he said in response. Sean had far too much faith in other cultures and their people. It was…idealistic. Which would be nice if it weren’t so….idealistic.

“That was rhetorical” he argued. “A bad example, but it still illustrates my point.” That there was bound to be something about their customs that left him cringing.

Derek nodded, not looking up from the report. Yes, it was a start. Derek was hoping that there was something more worthwhile to the planet than just one plant. They knew about the cat people because they were the dominant sentient species of the planet, who had somehow stumbled upon interstellar travel as if by accident. Their technology, or at least what he’d seen of it so far, didn’t seem to quiet measure up to what one would expect from a space-capable species. Then again, if one looked at history, most of human’s greatest technological achievements were discovered via accident, spring-boarding them from the first flight of the Wright brothers to landing on the moon in a mere 65 years. There was nothing about the Mitt’ain’s development that indicated a similar growth pattern, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

Derek still smelled something fishy.

“Fine, whatever,” Derek finally relented. “We’re already going, so I guess it’s pointless questioning the whys of why this mission is necessary.” It sounded like a graceful withdrawal, but Derek just ran out of things to gripe about. No doubt he’d think of something new later, though.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

By contrast, Sean considered himself pragmatic with a hopeful outlook, rather than idealistic. He, more than many people, knew the true depths of darkness that could exist inside of a person’s mind, but he also saw that the vast majority of people meant well and were open to self-improvement; even if people could be selfish or greedy or nefarious, most weren’t, and most were willing to compromise or cooperate with others, even those outside of their group (however that was defined). That gave him hope.

Likewise, through his diplomatic missions, he had yet to find a species that defied his general framework of interactions. Cultures might differ; they might have different priorities or methods by which to achieve their priorities, but the various member worlds and trade partners all followed similar statistical breakdowns: most meant well.

Which was why the psychiatrist thought there was nothing afoot. He simply hoped that his companion would reach that same conclusion by the end of the mission, if not before they arrived.

“It is,” Sean agreed, and he left it at that. Derek had stopped complaining, which meant that they needn’t argue about it any longer (for now). Although he was sure that the other man would find something else to complain about later, or else he would reprise the topic, for now, he was keen to let it go.

“Do we have any rations left that don’t taste like cardboard?” He asked, changing the subject.