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Tell this storyShe could never get used to the cage.
EXT. FEDERAL EXTRATERRESTRIAL LIAISON'S OFFICE - DAY
An immense octagonal building. Seen from the air, the center drops away into a vast gulf, as if circling a sheer edge above a hollowed cave.
Great grass fields spread out from one side, marked by two-lane roads and by odd patterns of burns or swirls in the middle of several.
On the other side, concrete and asphalt zones like an airport are split by rows of light, bright even in daylight, various kinds of loading and unloading machinery, some very unrecognizable, and hangars of many descriptions and sizes.
People staff the areas, perhaps in fewer numbers than expected.
A broad, landscaped sign lays against the drive in:
FEDERAL EXTRATERRESTRIAL LIAISON
EXT. OFFICE PARKING DECK - CONTINUOUS
Two immense metal grates block the entrance to the deck.
A black Cadillac, the epitome of a government vehicle, black paint, black glass, black plate, rolls up to an automated security checkpoint. The window rolls down, a black-clad arm snakes out lazily, waves a security card in front of a sensor, and smoothly withdraws as one grate lifts and the other drops.
The car eases between the teeth of the facility.
IN THE BACK
MAJOR CLARISSA TOMO holds a book with a bold green cover, lettered in an alien script. Several hundred pages, all of which seem to be made out of a thin foil.
CLARISSA TOMO
(to herself)
Well, it's definitely a cookbook. Nice recipe here, though. Be good with pig.
(aloud)
Eddie, you ever have Tharkain drangberry? Good with pig?
Her driver, EDWARD HUANG, gives it more thought than perhaps it deserves.
EDDIE HUANG
Far as I remember, Major, they gave me the shits something fierce.
CLARISSA TOMO
Well, that's a sad state of affairs. Makes you wonder why we even let beings with good cookbooks and bad seasonings onto our planet.
EDDIE HUANG
We let my Aunt Sally stay. Poor girl never could tell when the mayonnaise was off.
CLARISSA TOMO
You make a fine point, good lad. A fine point.
The car glides to a stop in front of a sign reading Command Staff Only.
Eddie hops out and steps professionally to open the door for Tomo.
Six feet and five inches of woman steps out of the car, gangly legs and long arms making her look more like a spider than some would be comfortable with. Tomo has that ageless quality that you find in professional models and wax mannequins. Her uniform fits fantastically, Marine blues with a hint of dark grey skinsuit underneath.
CLARISSA TOMO
I guess we'll just have to keep the Tharkain after all.
Eddie snaps a tight salute over his grin as Tomo walks away.
EDDIE HUANG
Yes, ma'am!
INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
If there's a more generic conference room format, the government hasn't found it yet. Beige carpet. Dark wood (probably fake) table.
Maybe a little large. Maybe one side toward the wall looks like it could be removed modularly. Maybe a few of the chairs seem casually left in some strange postures. Maybe.
One wall opens to a window over the great hole in the middle of the octagon. From here, part of the inner edge can be seen, lined with guidance arms, machinery of indeterminate purpose, and lit brightly from all directions.
Tomo stands at the window, gazing outwards, parade rest. She looks mildly annoyed but recently very annoyed.
On the other side of the conference table sit three human-sized STARFISH. They have cute black-button eyes in the middle of their radii (six each), and no discernable mouths on the sides facing the window. They are vaguely humanoid in outline.
COUNSELOR VRAGH is wearing a crimson and gold lame cape.
SECRETARY URUUSH is holding a squarish recording device on the back-side of one arm in sticky cillia.
COMMISSAR L'ALEN has a wrinkly, pocked skin and something of a drooping posture.
On the same side as Tomo sits only SECRETARY JONES, a serious young man with serious fingers resting on a serious transcriber.
L'ALEN
Honestly, Commissar --
CLARISSA TOMO
Major.
L'ALEN
Yes, forgive me. Major.
She turns and steps away from the window to face him directly.
L'ALEN
There is just not that much to report. Your customs crews at L5 apparently found contraband that our species don't consider nearly so dangerous as yours. Perhaps in the future, with more experience --
CLARISSA TOMO
Commissar, we both know that the treaty your Most High Democratic Emperor signed explicitly prohibited high-density nucleonics transported by civilian craft. Under any circumstances.
L'ALEN
Our Most High Democratic Emperor, holy be his name, understands that sometimes a cargo must be transported by whatever means is available! I'm sure --
CLARISSA TOMO
That those striplings meant no harm, that nothing was intended as harmful, that the ship they were piloting wasn't even theirs ...
Did I miss anything, Jones?
Jones lifts the long roll of paper spooling out of the machine as he types and runs his fingers along it.
STEVEN JONES
"The nucleonics weren't of a high enough grade to harm a shub-fly" and "Do you know who I am?", Major. I believe that's all assertions or questions related to the check.
Vragh is flexing forward and backwards at the arm-tips convulsively. L'alen slaps an arm down on the table with less a thump than a wet squish.
L'ALEN
We will not be mocked!
VRAGH
Oh, you will most certainly be mocked, L'alen! It might even be this very moment.
Jones glances at the tip-wiggling then at Tomo.
CLARISSA TOMO
(to Jones)
Laughing.
She smacks a gavel onto the desk with a right proper THUNK.
CLARISSA TOMO
Counselor, you have something to add?
Vragh nods his top arm, still "laughing" at his tips.
VRAGH
Most certainly. You will have to forgive the old Commissar; he's used to dealing with the Youlgate and the Kees, two species which I believe you, yourself, have spent time with. Dreadfully jumpy, both of them, and quite tractable with a firm voice and hand.
Tomo allows a slight smirk.
CLARISSA TOMO
I'd go so far as to suggest the Kees enjoy such treatment.
Vragh's head-arm wiggles more widely fore and back.
VRAGH
You would be more than correct. Genetic neurologic modifications in early development. Useful for a slave race.
But the Hangroo are not a slave race --
CLARISSA TOMO
Except for those of you who are. What percentage, Jones?
STEVEN JONES
47%, as of the last Imperial census.
CLARISSA TOMO
Yes, only about half of you are slaves, Counselor. Does that imply that only half of the Hangroo can be expected to fulfil treaty obligations at any one time?
Vragh leans away from the table. His arms are no longer wiggling with laughter. L'alen's have the suggestion they might.
VRAGH
(soothingly)
No, no, no. Not the case at all. The Hangroo are a law-abiding people who are only looking to engage in peaceful technical trade with the Human League under fully legal terms. That's all. This is clearly just a misunderstanding.
CLARISSA TOMO
Two of your countrymen, described by you as being --
STEVEN JONES
"Innocent striplings barely out of their second shedding and unwise in the ways of the worlds."
CLARISSA TOMO
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| https://is.gd/SZvRse |
-- that, are incarcerated onboard the Detainment Station Chateau d'If. The punishment, as determined and signed into Federation law by your Most High Democratic Emperor, is --
STEVEN JONES
"Death by asphyxiation by exposure to the empty void of space and the withdrawal of --"
Uruush leans forward slightly.
URUUSH
"-- the love of the Most High Democratic Emperor, Sovereign of a Thousand Stars, Life of Uncounted Trillions, which is as sure a killing blow as the black between the stars."
Jones shoots Uruush a grin. Uruush seems to go darker at the edge of the arms.
CLARISSA TOMO
I think he may have understated slightly.
Does that sound like a treaty obligation your Most High Democratic Emperor, long may he rule, is likely to accept to be a misunderstanding?
L'alen slides back from the table.
L'ALEN
No, Major. It most certainly does not. But we have certain responsibilities, you understand.
Tomo nods and spreads her hands graciously.
CLARISSA TOMO
Of course. Of course. Perhaps we can come to some kind of agreement?
The nucleonics are ours, however. By right of salvage.
VRAGH
Salvage?
L'alen nods slowly.
L'ALEN
Of course. How would two kids know that their stolen ship was so rickety? In such bad repair? An absolute death-trap that.
VRAGH
Bad re --
Well. Well well. The striplings are free to go, then?
Tomo leans forward, putting both hands on the table and still looming over the starfish. They tilt up to look into her face.
It is very grave.
CLARISSA TOMO
Currently, your two countrymen are in "medical support" on the d'If. I am sure that they'll be fine in a few months, assuming that there are no further "setbacks" in their treatment.
The League takes its responsibilities to member states very seriously, gentlebeings. Very seriously, indeed.
A pause.
L'ALEN
Your generosity and kindness are legend among the Hangroo, Major. I am certain that you will be a topic of gentle contemplation for years to come.
Jones smiles wolfishly for a moment before returning to a studied neutrality.
Tomo just nods.
CLARISSA TOMO
May your contemplation be calm and uninterrupted, Commissar. Counselor. Secretary.
The Hangroo nod, then rise off the low bench they rested back against and head for the door. Jones folds away the machine and its tape, picks up a white stick with a red tip, then begins tapping his way after the diplomatic team.
STEVEN JONES
Secretary Uruush! Could I have a word?
He heads out the door as well.
STEVEN JONES
(OS)
You seem pretty well versed in Hangroo interstellar law. Would you like to --
Tomo sighs and slumps, losing a good few inches of towering height. She turns back to the window, reaching up at her maximum extension to trace the top of the window frame, down the aluminum edging that separates one frame to another, then along the bottom sill.
She leans against it, forehead to the glass, staring into the vast pit from which steam is beginning to rise.
CLARISSA TOMO
(VO)
It's like a cage, law. This place, too. This world. This League.
I'll never get used to the cage.
EXT. FEDERAL EXTRATERRESTRIAL LIAISON'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Looking down over the vast building.
Tomo is barely visible through a window before a vast, white, mechanical surface rises from the abyss. The thunder rattles everything.
Ten engines leave trails of smoke and vapour in front of the window between us and Tomo.
PULL BACK AND FADE TO BLACK
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