Chapter 562: 4th & 10 (2/2)
”Maybe he's crazy?” Words suggested.
Dreams nodded and motioned at the Tukna'rn to push open the door. The Mosizlak put his hand on his pistol as the door slowly opened. The Welkret servant squeaked and ran away, vanishing into the dimly lit halls.
The room beyond was mostly dark. Computer equipment had been stacked everywhere, cables running all over the place, in some places tacked to the walls in the loops, hanging down from the ceiling, and winding all over the floor.
In the middle of the room, standing on a fully responsive graviton assisted eVR platform, Senator Pla'ayrmo'o was waving his upper two arms, his lower two hands on his hips as he spoke.
”You spurn my generous offer, Grand High Marshall Ho'omu'unLeed'are? My ships and my men are ready and willing to burn down your pathetic star nation in the name of the Lanaktallan Confederacy of Aligned Beings!” Pla'ayrmo'o shouted.
Dreams moved forward slowly, watching the yelling Lanaktallan carefully. 117 scurried over to one of the datacables and touched it with a listening probe, leaning forward and concentrating.
”Your battlecruisers are made of macroplas and failure, Ni'inKo'awmo'op! Mine are made with warsteel and the burning hate of lemur warforge masters! Retreat from my borders at once or face the unending wrath of the Lanaktallan Confederacy and my legions of Telkan Marines and Lemur Infantry!” Pla'ayrmo'o shouted.
Dreams saw the IR beam and carefully crossed it, nervous that some kind of gun system would be deployed. The Senator looked positively crazed, almost frothing at the mouth. The Tukna'rn infantry were scanning everywhere, looking for weapons.
There was a beep that even Dreams could hear from the headset.
Pla'ayrmo'o jerked slightly. ”Uh, hold on, guys. Someone's here. I need to go Aye-Eff-Kay for a few minutes,” the Senator said.
He peeled off the eVR headset and turned to look.
Dreams got close enough to smell the Lanaktallan and almost drew back. He reeked of unwashed hide, body odor, old fast food (the containers were scattered everywhere she noticed), and stale energy drinks.
”Oh, um, Madame Diplomat, how good to see you,” Pla'ayrmo'o obviously lied. He lifted the headset up. ”Let the AI run my turn, I might a little while, guys,” he mumbled quickly. ”Do what to I um this meeting I uh owe um, good to see you, Madame Diplomat!”
Dreams noticed he reached over and hit an icon that put the screens around him to sleep. One in particular caught her attention.
A gold mantid, in a leather jacket with spikes, wearing a beret and carrying a switchblade and donorcycle chain, was in the middle of the screen.
”Was that... me?” Dreams asked.
”What? No! What makes you think that? I'm sure you were just seeing things! May I refreshments offer to you? Mantids like grapes, right? Or is it pickles? Um... Pizza?” Pla'ayrmo'o said, grabbing a grease stained box and holding it out. Dreams could see the perspiration starting to soak away the salt from old sweat on his hide.
”It was!” Dreams said. She pointed at the screen. ”117!”
The little green mantid held out a command wand and touched a button. The screen came on and Dreams stared at the hologram.
It was her! Right down to exoskeleton chitin tattoo she had in Animeland runes! She was moving idly, cleaning her antenna or petting Mr. Rings, who was accurate right down to the double-ring on his third tentacle tip.
Below her was a menu full of options. Next to her head was a set of context menus.
AGGRESSIVE STANCE - PEACEBELLIGERENT STANCE - TRADEDIPLOMATIC STANCE - BORDER CONTROL
”Why am I on that screen?” Dreams asked.
”Uh, no reason,” Pla'ayrmo'o said. He reached out and turned it off again.
117 pinged and Dreams looked down at him. There was a quick burst of equations and a handful of emojis. Dreams looked at Words. ”What did he say?”
Words was staring, his antenna straight up.
”What did he say? What is going on?” Dreams asked.
Words suddenly burst out laughing, the same with the Mosizlak.
”What is so funny?” Dreams demanded.
Words turned his palm up, the holoemitter sparkling. ”It's you, Madame Diplomat, it's totally you,” he laughed.
There was an advertisement playing on Words's hologram. It was showing cities, continents, nations, solar systems, then stellar maps of stellar empires and kingdoms. Then lines for trade, huge ships moving through the void, planetary landings of warbots. Senatorial chambers packed with beings, a trade treaty being signed with a flourish, a declaration of war being signed.
Her image appeared.
”I am Dreams of Something More. Heed my words, for they are backed with insane lemurs and ice cream!” her voice said. ”Retain my services and rise to victory or face me and see your diplomatic efforts destroyed before your eyes!”
The image of her gestured with her bladearms and atomic explosions erupted on either side of her. Over the explosions were words.
INTERSTELLAR CIVILIZATION VIIDCCWARSTEEL EDITION was on her left.
DREAMS OF SOMETHING MOREDLC NOW AVAILABLE! was on her right.
Across the bottom read: 148 NEW ACHIEVEMENTS! GAMERTAG BLING! SASH ICONS! ORDER NOW AND GET ACCESS TO THE MOSIZLAK DIPLOMATIC UNIT!
”Woe unto those who seek to deny me!” the digital Dreams said, motioning.
Images of a tall thin Terran all in black, with a cape and possessing burning red eyes, appeared.
INCLUDES NIGHT TERRAN PUNITIVE SYSTEM ACCESS AT NO COST! BUY NOW WHILE THE DLC PACKAGE IS STILL AVAILABLE! appeared.
Dreams stared for a long moment, then looked at Pla'ayrmo'o, who was shuffling nervously, the three hundred year old Senator looking like a child who had been caught stealing cookies.
It was wholly undiplomatic. Completely against all the rules of statecraft to utter such a thing, but it popped out of her mouth.
”Are you fucking kidding me?”
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Dreams of Something More threw herself into the seat, muttering to herself, petting Mr. Rings, who looked around with wide eyes and wondering if there was anything good to eat under the cushions.
”How can they do that? How can they just sell my image like that?” Dreams asked. She let Mr. Rings climb up to swing back and forth on the bars installed inside the limo just for that purpose.
”Technically, you're a public personage, less a living person on your own and more a direct object of the Confederate Diplomatic Corps,” Words said, shaking his head.
”But, it's me! It's... it's me!” Dreams protested. She stared at Words. ”Find out who this Da'armo'o the Magician is,” she snapped. She huffed and crossed her arms and bladearms.
”I take it you want him or her to stop using your image?” Words asked.
”Or at least pay me for it,” Dreams grumped.