As they got out of the car, Emeryx cast a curious look around. This was certainly one of the newer and wealthier parts of the city - well, no surprises there; after all, they would be meeting important Asalooq officials. As far as Emeryx had understood it, the Asalooq contingent would consist mainly of various military types, concerned with anything from defending the planet against invasion to workplace safety. Emeryx couldn't help being slightly annoyed by that. Of course, it made sense to have some people there who understood about that sort of thing - defense was important and, after all, there were quite a few people in Starfleet's contingent who knew a lot about that sort of thing. But still, the Asalooq should have made it a little more diverse. If they wanted to make progress, it wouldn't be done by letting military and security types make all the important decisions. Emeryx felt they should have included at least a few scientists, both for their observational skills, which might potentially make the interaction between the two cultures easier in the long run, and to provide some inspiration for the Asalooq, showing them what could be achieved if one worked hard to acquire knowledge, to make scientific and technological progress. Emeryx felt that would have been more important than sending the tenth military person to the meeting. But of course, the Asalooq were free to do whatever they liked.
As the Starfleet delegation made its way towards the building, Emeryx noticed lines of uniformed Asalooq standing next to the road, probably some kind of guard of honour. They were quite far away, further than Emeryx was used to, but even more noticeable was the fact that they all had their backs turned towards the Starfleet Officers. Normally, Emeryx would have considered something like that pretty rude. However, from what they had learned about the Asalooq, they assumed it was probably polite in their book. Maybe looking directly at their guests would have been considered intimidating, or intrusive, or both. Very interesting. Emeryx knew that dealing with the Asalooq would take quite a bit of getting used to. Their people, the Qama, were pretty group-oriented and, on average, at least as emotional and outgoing as humans. Therefore, Emeryx had no advantage over their colleagues except their scientific mind and some experience in dealing with unfamiliar cultures. Nevertheless, they were fascinated. What a great opportunity to meet a new people and introduce them to the Federation's ideals.
Jamila did little to curb her desire to look around, to take it all in on her first trip to an Asalooq building. Pointed in the right direction by little yellow arrows (not by functionaries as she would have expected), the Starfleet party entered a hall on the second floor after a short while. The doors were wide open. The Asalooq soldiers, politicians and bureaucrats, about fifteen of them, stood in pairs or little groups. These groups were almost military in the way they stood, but Jamila could do nothing more than to recognise that yes, there was some strict protocol being followed. She assumed the soldiers or members of some emergency response body were the ones with the bright, broad sashes. She had only just begun to learn Asalooq script, a complicated system of syllable signs, lexical and conceptual symbols, tonal and aspectual diacritics and to make matters worse, ligatures across all types of glyphs. However, she recognised one glyph connected with language or conversation and the ubiquitous symbol for "Tashaneton", which could denote a wide range of concepts between "manners" and "law".
The Asalooq allowed the Starfleet members to look around, to get acclimated, and Jamila used the time to turn to Issor and whisper: "Ensign, I should probably know this, but what do the sashes mean?" At first, she had the impression the Asalooq wouldn't reply at all, but after a short silence he did, looking straight ahead, his voice a whispered drone of no emotional content. "They are worn by emergency personnel, to show they are allowed to approach strangers outside normal rules if necessary." Her inquisitive look did not go unnoticed, and Issor managed an addition: "Green sashes are medical emergency personnel. Yellow sashes are worn by law enforcement. Blue is disaster relief and infrastructural engineers. Soldiers also have blue sashes with special signs, but they don't use them in peacetime." Jamila knew she was probably pushing her luck, but she couldn't keep herself from asking one more thing: "I see red too. What are they?" "The simple red ones are leaders of the color they have a stripe of. The very ornamented ones are councilwomen, high politicians and bureaucrats." Jamila wondered why he used the word "councilwomen" when there were men among the ornamented red sashes, but understood he had already been indulging her and kept her peace. She noticed a table in the middle of the room, where small tags seemed to lie neatly arranged.
Soon, a singular Asalooq woman in a brightly colored, flowing gown and an elaborate yellow and orange headdress stepped forward, her hands wrapped in some kind of shawl. She cleared her throat (or some alien equivalent) and raised her hands in a slow, deliberate motion until they were above her head. Everyone fell silent; even Eniyan seemed to stand at attention. "This house is a house of cooperation," the Asalooq began in a sing-song sort of voice, "a house of safety. We offer that safety to our esteemed guests, emissaries of the great Federation we have recently joined. In this safety, there is a mission - we are to overcome the boundaries of strangeness to start cooperating as one circle. To that end, we must know each other's names. We should take up the nametags on this table if we wish to leave the status of strangers behind."
No orders, Jamila realised, not even a request. Both groups approached the table and, without looking at each other, started the business of distributing the nametags. Her name and rank were meticulously printed there, plus a representation of it in Asalooq. They had style, these people; they had even taken into account the anthracite and blue color of her uniform and designed the tag accordingly. Everyone had been extended that courtesy, she saw upon looking around.
The Guardian (she now recognised her as a cleric at the bronze adornments on her robe's chest) raised her hands again. "Let it be known that everyone in this room can now see who the others are: what yahdooc and m'rt they belong to, what their name and position is. Thus, there is no indiscretion in addressing one another, but rather, some merit."
Jamila found herself appreciating the respectful attitude the Asalooq culture brought with it - but was it really genuine? She was extremely curious to find out, and held back a little to watch while the bolder Asalooq and Starfleet officers paired off to speak...
Miguel found himself liking the Asalooq way to conduct a conversation. Answers came after a short delay to make sure the other person had said all they wanted to say. They were looking for common ground, shared concepts, of which there were quite a number. Also, their contributions tended to be very deliberate, as if they had studied their content in detail before speaking. He spoke to two members of the Separate Council on Global Safety, a man from the Tashan state's disaster relief organisation and a woman from the planning staff for the future Planetary Defence Forces. They had formed a common opinion on how disaster relief infrastructure could be integrated with the military one.
"As you no doubt know," the planner said in the slightly monotonous Federation Standard Miguel already knew from Ensign Issor, "most of Asalooq's inhabited land is rather empty. There are long distances between settlements and a system of transporter relays would be of help. Some regions suffer heavy rain periods, during which land routes become impassable and air traffic is restricted to our more advanced aircraft, which we are just now starting to mass-produce. Access to our shared Federation databases allows us to streamline the implementation of our plans, but only plans already made can be implemented, and even then it will be some years before the modern craft are available in quantity. We are developing a plan to use the future global military as a disaster relief corps in peacetime. Excuse me for being so forward, Captain, but if you would be willing to form and state an opinion, we would be most obliged."
Peña smiled. "There is no need to apologise; after all, it is one of my duties to advise you - if and insofar you wish, of course," he added, remembering the need, in this cultural context, to avoid any impression of forcing an issue on somebody. "Many member planets of the Federation conduct business in that way. It helps to have organised, trained bodies of people in any crisis - and of course, Starfleet itself routinely deploys to lend aid in times of need." "We are very much aware of that," the planner nodded. "We know that Starfleet even helps non-UFP worlds if at all possible - a commendable attitude. Learning such things about the Federation was a major reason for our people to request membership." The compliment was elegant in that it was no flattery of Miguel personally, but highlighted the common values of the Federation - in which the Asalooq now shared, of course.
As the evening progressed, Peña overheard many conversations like his own. His officers put their best foot forward and made a serious attempt to treat their hosts with the exquisite respect they expected. He saw Commander Parker-Takeno bending over a large map display with several military officers from the lingering remains of the nation states' armies, whose interconnecting system Miguel did not grasp yet. At the same time, as Miguel was sure, the Asalooq overlooked many small infractions of Tashaneton by the guests. Some of them, especially the technical and operations experts, were downright inquisitive, albeit in an exceedingly careful way. The politicians with whom Peña spoke chiefly were less direct, but it was very clear that they wanted to learn about the way Starfleet was integrated into the wider UFP societies and how Starfleet worked internally, both in terms of written rules and ethos. For an advanced society, the distinction between the two seemed to be very diffuse or unimportant for the Asalooq, even though they technically understood the differences between the concepts. Miguel and Counsellor al-Qamari (a most entertaining young woman, Miguel thought, even if she might be a little exhausting privately) tried to convey Starfleet's internal culture, while Lieutenant Kristiansen seemed embroiled in a discussion of security and law enforcement matters. The security officer had seemed cold and moody to Miguel so far, but even she was apparently drawn out by the Asalooq's charming mixture of politeness and desire to learn. The evening was going well. There was still some way to go until actual material cooperation could start, but the foundation for that was being laid all around Peña.
To Myra, it felt as if a million things had happened at once. There had been so much to take in - the city with its many different buildings, their strange method of transport, the technology, the food (unfamiliar, but very tasty, she thought), and, most of all, of course, the people. It was all so strange, so new, fascinating and scary at the same time, and she didn't quite know which of the seemingly endless number of facts and details and impressions were important and which were not. It was quite overwhelming.
Myra did her best to stay focused, to be calm and professional, but it was far from easy, and before she had quite regained her equilibrium, they had already arrived at their destination. The introductions were just as strange, to human sensibilities, as everything else. Myra was beginning to see patterns in the Asalooqs' behaviour, to recognise some customs and attitudes she had read about in the briefing papers, but she was quite aware that what she was experiencing were only the very first beginnings of understanding, the first vague idea of what might, later, seem consistent and logical. Myra was about to make a remark to al-Qamari about her feelings - despite the short time she knew her, she had already come to like and trust their counsellor - but Jamila was talking to Ensign Issor, causing Myra to hastily back away. She still hadn't quite figured out what she had done to make Issor dislike her, although she now suspected it might not be personal. Maybe she had, in her somewhat desperate attempt to be extra friendly, violated Asalooq notions of personal space and propriety. It would make sense, she figured, but she was too embarrassed to ask, and so Issor and her were still in a state of awkward silence and carefully kept their distance. It was a pity, though - Myra would have liked to be able to ask her colleague some questions about his people, both out of curiousity and in an attempt to do better at missions like this one. Well, no chance of that now - and, therefore, the Asalooq still mostly remained a mystery to her.
Myra's assigned conversation partner, Wahne Feurna, did little to make it easy for her to interact. She was a politician - a councilwoman, if Myra had understood the introduction correctly - and slightly older, well into middle age. Unlike some of the other Asalooq representatives, who seemed to be so engrossed in discussions about technology and tactics that they left part of their reservedness behind, Feurna appeared much more conservative. She conducted herself with decorum - and, in an Asalooq, that meant something.
Myra felt slightly intimidated and more than slightly out of her depth. She knew it was her duty to initiate conversation, to win the councilwoman over, convince her of Starfleet's values and its strength. But how? She literally didn't know where to start. Remembering the briefing, she stumbled through what she hoped were the appropriate greetings, but after that, there were long, awkward pauses. She couldn't think of anything but a couple of polite platitudes which she hoped even an Asalooq couldn't be offended by.
Feurna seemed somehow expectant, but Myra wasn't sure if she was reading the Asalooq woman correctly. What if she was mistaken and raising any kind of issue now was considered highly offensive? She hadn't forgotten Issor's reaction to her well-meant greeting. Besides, even if she dared engage in a proper conversation, what would have been the polite way to begin? Myra could feel herself beginning to panic, her heart beating way too quickly, her mind worryingly blank. She knew there was something important she ought to remember, but she couldn't think of it, not now.
For a moment, she considered asking one of the more experienced officers for help, the counsellor maybe, or even the Captain who seemed so incredibly suave in this impossible situation. But they were all deep in conversation with the other Asalooq representatives - apparently, nobody had problems with that but her, a thought that heightened her feelings of panic and inadequacy - and she didn't dare interrupt them. Besides, wouldn't it have been impolite to leave Feurna in order to talk to one of her own people? Maybe if she could think of an appropriate excuse… but how should she with her mind racing like this?
"It has been very pleasant talking to you, Ensign, but I'm afraid I have to leave you now. I am very sorry, but unfortunately, I have urgent family matters to attend to." It took a moment for Feurna's words to properly register. When Myra had managed to wrap her mind around what she had just been told, she hastily mumbled that she didn't mind at all and expressed her hopes that Feurna's family was well. She hoped that was an appropriate reaction.
After she had awkwardly stumbled through the formal words of farewell, Myra was alone. Had Feurna left a little hastily? Myra felt she had acted not like someone who was hurrying somewhere, but like someone who was trying to get out of an uncomfortable situation. 'Nonsense, that's just your anxiety speaking. She said that she had to be there for her family,' she mentally chided herself. She felt embarrassed, inadequate, fully aware that she hadn't exactly won glory that evening. But the dominant emotion was one of complete, utter relief. Secretly, she felt very lucky that Feurna had other, more important commitments. After all, it had allowed Myra to get out of the situation a little earlier - and she had survived, had not accidentally started a war or a brawl in the government building. That was something.
After a number of officials had spoken to him, Teldac felt gratified. It was nice to be appreciated, and it was also nice to finally be with people who showed respect in ways he could not only understand, but actually parse as such. He even felt some hope that his less-than-glamorous background could be relegated to the past as long as he made no more terrible blunders like the one during the landing (which, obviously, was being ignored by the Asalooq who spoke to him).
Now, he stood alone; he noticed the way in which he did that, though. A few officials always looked partly his way, openly but with enough reserve so as not to offend. When one turned away, another did the reverse. They were simply giving him some space, a human phrase for what was, on reflection, a sort of motto for all of Tashan-Asalooq culture. The officials knew that he had conversed a lot in the last hour. That they restrained their interest now was polite of them, and also a mark of their regard. Teldac let his gaze wander across the room, watching the Petrov officers, trying to ignore the fact that he would soon be cooped up on the ship with them again. Maybe they would have learned something of his needs by then…
There was Wahne Feurna, trying to talk to Ensign Dhawan. The OPS officer seemed so blunt to Issor, so offensive in her manners - but the flight to Asalooq and the arrival had shown him that she was among the more well-mannered of the UFP personnel. Still, how could she miss the higher-ranking woman's gestures? Not only was Wahne moving her thumb in circles, she was even gesturing with her elbow towards Dhawan. The Councilwoman was clearly impatient by now, because the elbow gesture was impossible to miss. Teldac knew from before the Academy that Wahne Feurna had been leader of the Safety Council for the Alnay region, gaining prestige for her skilful handling of a number of earthquakes. She was also related to the Speaker for the Community Council, the highest official on Asalooq. Had Asalooq possessed a nobility, she would have been part of it, and Dhawan was ignoring her like an annoying child. Teldac didn't even consider the possibility that Dhawan was too polite to speak. No, she was either being extremely rude or extremely ignorant. Feeling particularly helpful, Issor quickly maneuvered so that he was in Dhawan's field of view. He tried to get her attention, but she was looking down. He even stepped down a little too hard, but Dhawan didn't catch on. Issor tried coughing next, to no avail. He had to pace his attempts so as not to seem too obvious. Before he could think of anything more effective and within Tashaneton, he could hear Wahne's voice, making excuses to leave. The family matters she cited (the implication was that there were rituals to attend) were classic as a thinly veiled excuse. "Family rituals" had even become a joke among young Asalooq. Feurna left the room as Teldac stared in horror. Did Dhawan seem pleased? Had she understood nothing that had gone one between her and the politician? Issor's heart raced, and he tried to find some way to make this right. The best hope he could think of, the Captain, was deep in conversation and could not be disturbed without doing more harm than good. The others Teldac just didn't understand enough to approach them about something like this.
The Asalooq had not missed Wahne's departure, and Issor could feel the resentment in his fingertips as the tide of the meeting turned. The atmosphere, friendly and interested and almost relaxed a minute before, was turning as cold as it never got in Council City's tropical region. And my Starfleet colleagues are oblivious.
Not too long after Wahne Feurna had excused herself, the meeting was drawing to a close. Apparently, nobody wanted to overtax the patience or stamina of the participants. Myra was relieved - she was desperately longing for some quiet time, a possibility to finally relax. Besides, it had felt awkward standing on the sidelines while everybody else was still engaged in discussion. And how animated it had all seemed, too - was she really the only person who had trouble engaging with the Asalooq? Suddenly, she wished she were somewhere, anywhere else. What was she even doing here? She should have known that this posting wasn't for her. A whole new culture, so much responsibility - it was hardly a job for someone who had graduated the Academy only weeks ago, even less for someone as shy as her.
She told herself to get a grip. After all, she had survived this first meeting. Hopefully, it would get better after that. When she got to know the Asalooq and their ways a little better, things were bound to get easier, weren't they?
After the people who had been in discussion had taken their leave from each other, one of the most high-ranking Asalooq gave a formal farewell speech to the entire group. Myra listened with concentration, focusing on copying the Asalooq representatives' reactions. The speaker's words seemed rather formal and reserved to her, even by Asalooq standards, not quite in line with the animated discussions she had witnessed some of her colleagues having with their Asalooq counterparts. But that was probably just due to tradition, she told herself. Of course a culture like this one would have pretty rigid rituals for parting from a group of foreign representatives.
Soon afterwards, the Starfleet contingent was on its way out, again flanked by Asalooq guards who avoided their eyes. Myra finally dared breathe a little easier.