Taf
Everything was going to be fine. Peacekeeper Taf Y'Ako paced back and forth, repeating that mantra to himself. Everything was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine because it had to be fine. There wasn't another option. Only one more day, and it would be signed and it would all be... fine.
The old wooden boards creaked under his boots as he moved from one side of the small meeting room to the other and back again. To an outside observer, he might look nervous or worried about the impending treaty but, of course, that wasn't the case. The very idea was absurd. He was merely... working out some excess energy. That was all. Because everything was fine. It was all going to be just fine.
The door slammed open and Primian B'Ray stormed through, his ruddy complexion dripping with sweat. "This bloody planet. Are we sure we want it?" He laughed at his own joke and collapsed into one of the few chairs. "I am grateful every day that this is almost over and I will never have to come back to this sweaty armpit of a place. My sister-in-law smells better than it does here and she exists solely on eggs. And don't ask me why eggs, I've had it explained a system of times and it is utter nonsense."
Taf knew he should laugh, or at least act amused, but all that excess energy was grinding him down. "They're on their way?"
B'Ray pulled something that was likely once a neckerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow with a tired sigh. "Yes, they are on their way, and everything will go just as planned. I've even left J'Pur back at the base to ensure he can't add mud to the talks." He looked up at him, a patronising smirk on his face. "Come on now Y'Ako, one more day and this is all ours."
Taf hated it when he did that.
Technically he was B'Ray's superior, perhaps not in age but in status, and B'Ray knew that. But he continued to address him as though they were of a level, dropping the respectful honorific like he would one of his old friends. It was infuriating. As was the very clear reason why B'Ray wasn't nearly as worried as he was. He had no ship in the race, no credit on the table. If this went well, B'Ray would go down in history as part of Taf's team and would, no doubt, be able to spin it to make sound like he was the star of the system. And if it all went wrong, well, then it would be Taf's fault and B'Ray would have 'tried to warn him' or some other condescending but self-aggrandising sentiment.
It was petty and it was annoying, far more so than anything else Taf had encountered on this planet. He quietly agreed with B'Ray; it was too damn hot. But he'd also worked too long and too hard to get here to complain about it. The same could obviously not be said of his supporting emissary. He knew a dressing down was not the way to handle this man, but he also knew that if he didn't get a stronger hold of the reins this particular Ikkne would be riding him, and taking great joy in it.
"Straighten up, B'Ray. You're starting to look as though you belong here." Taf hid his satisfied grin as he watched the robust older man pull himself quickly to his feet and begin tidying up his uniform. It was satisfying to know that even if he didn't have the man's respect, he could still make B'Ray dance to his tune. Somedays were harder than others, but when his ego was involved it was barely a challenge.
The sound of multiple wet feet slapping down on the warped wood floor outside heralded the arrival of the Macran representatives, and it sounded as though they were fast approaching. It was an unpleasant sound, undoubtedly made worse by the excess energy currently churning in Taf's stomach. Despite the growing feeling of nausea and almost certain failure, he took his position on the opposite side of the table from the doorway, with B'Ray loitering to one side, not quite leaning against the wall.
As they entered he felt the unease only grow inside him. They knew. They had to. He always found Macrans hard to read; their faces so wild yet familiarly Pachian, but with expressions all too different from what he was used to.
It was truly a mystery of the stars, how this star system could contain four separate planets populated by the same species. The Primians had run the tests when they’d first landed on P’Ache Minor and the data was conclusive. Although the Minorans behaved in confusingly different ways, they had the same genetic sequence. It had been less surprising when they’d discovered the same was true on P’Ache Micro and P’Ache Major.
But for Taf the real mystery was how these Macrans could look so similar but have such fundamentally different ideas. It was as though they didn’t want to be better than they were. As though they had no desire to see beyond the swamp, as though they had no ambition. It seemed impossible. And perhaps that was what he was struggling with. No, not struggling, but maybe that's where this excess energy was coming from. After 19 years of standard education quickly followed by 12 years working his way up the Diplomatic track and now six and a half - almost seven - years on-planet, the last four of which he'd been leading the negotiations, he still didn't truly understand the Macrans.
It would be so easy to think like B'Ray, to look at them as savages and dismiss their intelligence. Far too easy. It would also be a mistake. It was the mistake his predecessor had made and was part of the reason he was here now instead. He wasn't going to make the same mistake.
At least Taf knew one thing his predecessor hadn't; he knew he didn't truly understand them. He'd studied the Macrans, learned as much about their culture as he could, and talked to them about ideals and motivations until neither one had air enough left to breathe and they were forced to stop. But it wasn't enough. It had not been enough because he still didn't understand them. How did he know that? Because they still made decisions which surprised him. Taf was rarely surprised.
Take B'Ray for example. B'Ray was obnoxious, lazy and stubborn, and to a layperson that could make him unpredictable. He might do or say something which no one could have predicted. But it would still fall within certain parameters; in a broad sense, the social laws and structure which were subconsciously adhered to, and in a more narrow sense, the man's own code of conduct - whatever that might be - and his emotional framework. Others may find him erratic or fickle, and perhaps he was, but Taf had never seen him do anything that was outside those preconceived barriers which were an essential part of who he was as a person.
To an extent, the same was true of the Macrans. They would also be acting within the scaffolding of society and their own mind, but Taf was finding it more and more difficult to predict any of the Macrans' next move, particularly their thought process. All because he did not have a good enough grasp on what that framework was. Not for a single one of them.
"Good morning," he stood to greet them, nodding and addressing each by name as they found their seats around the oval-shaped table. He was usually as comfortable here as he was anywhere on this planet. Today was different. Today there was tension in the air.
They talked through the agenda items, finalising the details of the signing of the treaty, and all the while Taf waited for the whole thing to come crashing down. But it didn't. They didn't stop on the points he tried to move them passed quickly. No one said anything about the changes required on-planet in order to adapt to a more modern way of life.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he dismissed the meeting. He was vaguely aware of B'Ray joking with one of the Macrans about meeting his daughter, but the relaxation of his muscles, particularly those in his shoulders and neck, took up more of his focus. That was it, the final talks before the signing tomorrow. He was so close, so-
"Urmm... Primian Y'Ako." The voice was that of one of the younger Macrans, an earnest woman in her mid-fifties with auburn curls she tucked into knots on her head, Barlinth of the Placid Waters. She was generally quiet in their meetings, but Taf was not naive enough to believe that didn't mean she was paying attention.
"Yes? Is there anything I can help you with Macran Placid Waters?" The name wasn't as musical as it was in its original form, but Taf knew that starting the transition to a better, more Primian, way of doing things would make it easier for everyone. He'd been doing this with all the representatives for a few months now and he thought they were more or less used to it.
Barlinth proved him wrong as she winced slightly, but was not rude enough to comment. "I don't want anything to get in the way of the signing tomorrow, but I wanted to let you know that I've been made aware of some troublemakers."
If Taf wasn't busy overheating he was certain his body would have run cold. "Troublemakers?"
She nodded and sent a puff of air out of her mouth, jutting out her lower lip so it went up like an exhaust pipe. A lot of Macrans did this without really thinking about it, and when he'd asked none had been able to clearly explain what it meant. In this case, Taf was willing to take a bet on frustration.
"My sister's husband's cousin's neighbour is friends with someone who lives in the Eastern Marshes. Apparently, there have been a few gatherings of people who are worried about the treaty changing the Macran way of life." She huffed again, this time with a dismissive wave of her hand as though she hadn't just spoken Taf's worst fears aloud. "It's most likely a group of people sat around a pipe complaining. We'll handle it. But I wanted to let you know."
Taf's jaw was tight, his fist clenched beneath the table and all that surplus energy was back tightening around his shoulders and chest. "Thank you for bringing this to our attention. What can I do to help smooth this over before the big day?"
