LF Friends, Will Travel

Date: 52 PST (Post Stasis Time)

The sound echoed along the hallway, a terrible sound that kept anyone sane from coming too close. A sound of grinding and sloshing, a cacophony of squealing and crunching. It sounded like a bag of puppies being fed through a woodchipper in dear need of maintenance, like nails being scratched down a chalkboard, like the feeling of grinding teeth over tinfoil. It sounded like terror, like madness, like everything wrong with the universe placed into one instant.

Nearly every other species in the diplomatic quarters had either made themselves scarce or were hunkering down in fear as the sound blared out from the furthest door on the right. A location where nobody went, a door marked "Dunwil". Inside was source of the sound, A Dunwilian.

Evolution tends to follow certain paths. Birds, mammals, insects; All are common on practically most life sustaining planets. Deathworld, not deathworld, gas based, earth based, alloy based: The problems that evolution has to solve are generally the same, so the outcome tends to be the same. 99% of life in the universe is recognizable to each other; sure the colours might change or an extra super special limb is added, but at the end of the day there's only so many ways you can build the same thing.

But occasionally the cruel gods of evolution decide to throw shit at the wall and see what sticks, then you get something completely new, completely alien. Most of the time these species are like the Scythen: Just weird. A sentient ball of florescent tentacles isn't common, but doesn't get much more then a second glance.

But in the 1% of the 1%, you get something... terrifying, something completely wrong. There's no official name for this categorization: Terror species, Horror species. Meaner people might even call them the Ugly species. Whatever you called them the Dunwil were definitely part of this categorization.

The Dunwillian stood at staggering 8ft tall, a mass of writhing wiggling strings tied and bound together into an egg like shape, punctuated by eyes of varying sizes, each one burning a deep blood red. Twenty trunk like appendages spouted from the sides of this mass, the ugly blue's and purples mixing together into a slimy viscous skin. Each trunk ended into a gaping maw of teeth and slime, seeming to gnash and bite as it moved around.

The Dunwilian's were not a well liked species in the galaxy, their appearance triggering fear and revulsion in practically all sentient species. As such they were very rarely seen or written about, preferring to avoid a galaxy that seemed to hate them, instead tending to stick to their home world and single solitary colony.

This one however was called {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} and had the unfortunate job of being the ambassador for the Dunwilian people. For all of their horrible appearances the Dunwil were a social species, so attempting diplomacy in a universe disgusted by them was an exercise in torture. They had no alliances, no embassies, only the barest of agreements with their neighbours. Most Dunwilian ambassadors lasted a month in the role, {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} had been there for two: Now they finally had enough.

The horrifying sound echoing about the halls was the noise of sobbing as the Dunwilian was curled up into a gigantic crying blob. Today was supposed to have been better, been something new, but instead had highlighted everything wrong with the Dunwil's place in the galaxy. The Federation's General Assembly was a monthly event hosted at various locations across the galaxy. A chance for general diplomacy, for new and old species alike to come together at neutral ground. But this one was different, this one had a new attendee, one who hadn’t visited this part of the galaxy yet: A Terran.

They had become legendary among the diplomatic circles, a new species who had only recently found themselves in the Galactic community 50 years ago, but during that short time their entire mentality had seemingly been "Make as many friends as possible". 412 different species were united under the Terran Alliance, from pacifists to warrior empires, insects to avians, the uniting force of the Terran's immense pack bonding instinct had caused one of the biggest galactic forces to emerge in such a short time.

So surely if anyone would offer a trunk in friendship to the Dunwil it would be them? The day had seemingly gone well, The Terran diplomat hadn't been rude and was more cordial than most; which was a refreshing change to the last 2 months of {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}}'s life on this Federation space station. But compared with the way he talked with the other diplomats it had been colder, more distant; so at the end of the day {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} had made their first mistake: It had decided to look around the Terran's section of Galnet.

The intention had been simple: Research bonding and general Terran culture in order to facilitate the friendship the mammals were so famous for. Instead of such information they found themselves staring at more data than they could ever hope to read. Opinions, ideas, entire encyclopedias on the strangest of subjects. There was no sense, no order, just raw unfiltered data.

Then {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} had seen something strange, something unexpected: a picture of themselves. It looked like it had been taken from one of the many Federation broadcasts of various political meetings and events, and was simply titled with three letters “WTF”. {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} then made his second mistake: They had wanted to see what the Terrans were saying about the Dunwil.

“Well that’s my Sleep paralysis Demon.”

“Kill it with fire.”

“Can we just burn down the galaxy and claim it on insurance?”

“This is a terrible day to have eyes.”

{{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} had heard worse. Heck ambassadors had said far worse to them straight to their face during official meetings. But the Terrans, they were literally known for alliances, for friendship. There were verified accounts of Terrans bonding with cleaning droids and random rocks.

But seemingly even the Dunwil were one step too far, too horrific, too hideous, too terrifying. This had finally broken {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}}, a deep overwhelming sadness that no matter what they did, in a galaxy full of life the Dunwil would always find themselves alone.

“Hey, are you OK? I knocked but you didn’t answer and I got worried.”

The head poking through the door belonged to the Terran diplomat called Jeremy, followed quickly by the rest of him as the short blonde haired man stepped into the room.

Jeremy stared down at the figure curled up on the floor in front of him, a look of concern on his face. This did nothing to calm down {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}}, as this was possibly the last person they wanted to see at this point. Not only had they forgotten to lock the door and enable the privacy field, but the one who was seeing them in such a blubbering state was very possibly the single worst person to check on the noise if the Dunwil wanted any chance of a diplomatic relationship with the Terrans.

{{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} knew he should get up, make up an excuse, try and salvage this in some way. But the fact that they knew there would be no companionship, forever alone among the stars kept them crying: An entire species worth of sadness and despair holding them in place.

“My translator keeps saying ‘crying’ but I’m not sure if... Oh.”

The Terran paused for a moment as Jeremy spotted what was on the Galnet viewer, quickly putting together what exactly was making the Dunwilian in front of him so distressed. Jeremy bent down, gently placing a hand on the pulsating mass of flesh bundled into a ball in front of him.

“What random people say don’t matter, don’t be sad, it’s OK.”

It was the action of physical touch that gave {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} pause, slowly uncurling. It was the first time any non-Dunwilian had purposefully touched them, heck there was a good chance it was the first time any sapient creature had gone out of their way to give physical comfort to a member of the Dunwil. It felt warm. It felt calming. It felt nice.

“So what’s the problem, what has you so worked up over some silly random Terrans?”

The smile on Jeremy’s face was soft, kind, understanding. It felt as if {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} could tell the Terran anything, as he responded with a series of worrying squelches and bone tingling cracks.

"̴Rèprȩse҉nti̢ņg͡ ̀t͠h͠e ̸D̡u̶nw̶il͡ i͡s ̕a l͟onél͡y b͏urd̢en͢. O̶u͝r ap͞p̵ea̡ranc̸e͞ mèa̶n͢s no̢b͝o̵d͜y͡ ͢wants͡ an͡ythíng̵ tò do͢ wi̧t͢h ̨u̢s.͝ I jus̴t̛ t͜h̵oug͘h̷t͝ th̢at͠ ̷wit͝h͘ ̷th̴e̸ ̶T͞er҉r̸a̶n's ̀ṕack ͠b͟ondin͜g ̡a̛b̕i͟li͡t̨y, ͞t̀h͞a̢t̵ ma͝yb̸e ҉i͠t͏ ̸wo͢uld͞ b̧é d́iffer̕ent ̵t̸h̡įs ͠ti̵m͢e.̕.."͜

A frown appeared on Jeremy’s face, slowly turning into a more resolved grimace. What the alien in front of him was saying made a lot of sense in retrospect. His interactions with the Dunwilian throughout the day had been weird, an obvious lack of experience as well as a desperation had permeated the interactions.

Jeremy had assumed at the time it was just a cultural issue he didn’t know about, but this explained everything.

“Nope. This isn’t happening. Sure you look… outside of the normal bell curve, but that don’t mean you should be alone. If the asshole slavers of the Estorian Empire can find an alliance, then I’m sure we can fix this.”

It was said in a matter of fact tone, that Terran method of seeing something in the universe that they disliked and going ‘Screw that, I reject your reality and substitute it with my own’. Jeremy was now back up on his feet, pacing slightly as a plan started to form in his mind.

“We got two problems to solve. The first is that you clearly have no experience with diplomacy, which isn’t going to help.Take for instance your name”

“{{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}}?”

“Yea that just sounds like static to me. Names don’t really translate well so you want to make sure you’ve got an alternative name for whoever you’re communicating with. In your case just picking something with the galactic phonetical standard would go a long way. Something like, I dunno, Wilbur. We’ll spend a few hours going over all of this.”

The Terran at this point was clearly excited, focusing entirely on fixing the issue at hand, that universal body language of someone who is really good at something being able to share that knowledge with someone else.

“The second is your… Lovecraft like nature. Long term it shouldn’t matter, but first impressions matter.”

Jeremy continued to pace, before and idea hit him as he excitedly ran out of the room, shouting as he went.

“Don’t go anywhere, got an idea I can fab up!”

{{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} frankly felt shell shocked, slowly standing up to their full height once again. They had hardly spoken three sentences before the Terran had taken it upon himself to fix the problem, to care about the issues that the Dunwilian had. Why? Because the Terran had seen someone upset? Was this the pack bonding that {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} had heard so much about? Simply the empathy of seeing someone upset and wanting to fix it?

It was 15 minutes until Jeremy returned, 15 long minutes wondering if the Terran was actually going to come back. Immediately {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} had been handed a strange item: brightly coloured, soft and warm.

“Trust me, it might seem silly but it always works, I got a bunch of em for the species who see Terrans as a bit weird. Now tomorrow come find me, I’ll introduce you to a few people. The Ritilian Diplomat here is really nice, and I think the Zorthian’s have finally sent one of their guys as well. Before that though, lets go over some diplomatic principles….”

There were no more sounds of terror, no more sounds of grinding and wailing at the end of this day. {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} was in fact positively giddy this evening. Today had been far better than the last, far better then any other during his role as the Dunwil's ambassador. The Terran ambassador had effectively taken the Dunwilian under his wing, setting up a day full of meetings. Full of discussions. Full of suggestions of embassies, of promises for further talks and camaraderie.

Full of everything the Dunwilians had ever really wanted. Jeremy had even suggested that the Dunwil should join the Terran alliance at some point, after making sure the two cultures were compatible: “You’d be surprised how often ‘Don’t own slaves you asshole’ is a deal breaker”.

Right now {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} was excitedly writing up the results of the day, their trunks moving rapidly as they typed. The Dunwilian was literally bouncing up and down with joy as they did so, still wearing the gift the Terran had fabricated for him. {{̷̢̨̡̦̹̻̠̳̪͋͒̋̾̊̃̐̈_̶̮̽̐͠_̶͔̍_̷̹̳̮̤͆̑_̴̨̢͒̓͆̚}} had to agree that it had worked, against all rational thought. A large bright red and yellow beanie lay on top of what could be considered a ‘head’, the hat was even finished off with a giant yellow pom pom.

Terran rules for diplomacy - Rule 4.

No matter who you are, or whom you are talking too, everyone looks more friendly in a hat.