***Trakken Prime***

***Magnus***

The room was sparsely equipped, except for a big table and plenty of chairs. By now, it was fairly obvious that we were in an underground facility. Someone had spared no expense to secure the artificial jaunt point with as many safety measures as possible. It started with the secure arrival room and continued with a long, easily defensible hallway terminating in a militaristic set of hallways.

Once we passed the primary security measures, my second sight allowed me some limited spying.

There was no doubt that the facility was huge and getting out would require overcoming even more safety measures, or our welcoming committee wouldn’t have escorted us so readily to this conference room.

Vanya strolled up to the table without reservations and sat down with a satisfied sigh. The two Trakken who were leading the negotiations took their seats across from her, while their guards arranged themselves at the wall behind them. When I looked with my Second Sight, I found more guards securing the corridor outside.

At least this room didn’t have any automated guns, which gave me some peace of mind. I felt a lot more confident in reacting to a rifle being raised by a person. Not so much to a device being triggered at any moment and for any unknown reason.

Leaving behind our means of transportation didn’t sit well with me, but I guessed that achieving our goal while we remained standing beneath the orb like anxious kittens would be next to impossible.

I stepped up to one of the chairs and tested it tentatively with one hand. It was made out of a non-magnetic metal, likely aluminium, and some sturdy plastic: typical cheap office furniture. The problem was, it was intended for some skinny bureaucrat in a suit. Not for a genetically enhanced superhuman who was close to two metres tall and weighed around 130kg in his full plate armour.

Well, the weight was just a guess, but it would be interesting to find out how my weight had changed since I left Earth. I didn’t look like it, but I strongly assumed my bodily changes came with the addition of some heavier elements to my biology.

The chair creaked ominously just from me leaning on it with my upper body. It felt like this world had lower gravity than Tirnanog, much closer to Earth’s gravity, but that didn’t help much when it came to this flimsy chair.

Astra didn’t have the same problem. Her filaments flowed out beneath her, coiling up to form a fluffy pillow for her to rest in. I could already imagine the gleeful expression beneath her helmet.

Ittoit saw the problem when I placed the chair further away and instead kneeled at the table like some of the others. Etan chose to remain standing.

“We will order some sturdier chairs.” Ittoit waved his hand, and Ittar began to type something on her tablet.

“Thanks,” Vanya replied, her own chair creaking when she rocked back and forth to test it, but it held up thanks to her much smaller stature. “It is appreciated.”

I abstained from commenting, unwilling to give away that Astra and I could already follow the conversation without issues. Once we focused several sub-personalities on the problem, applying Vanya’s translation efforts wasn’t an issue. She was constantly updating a part of the UI with a growing dictionary and grammatical rules.

It was a big help. I was certain that I would not have been able to establish any significant communication as fast as she. My skill with languages was mediocre at best, and till now, I had been more than satisfied with the two I had grown up with.

Meanwhile, our attempts at communicating with Gaia, or at least her equivalent on this world, were less than fruitful. The avatar had already warned us that it was highly unlikely to establish contact: even if we were on the same ‘wavelength’ as Trakken’s Gestalt. The problem wasn’t so much whether communication was possible, but whether Trakken’s Gestalt was paying attention. It was akin to us paying heed to a small group of cells somewhere in our bodies.

On the same account, I paid only half of my attention while Vanya took up the conversation with the Trakkens once more. At this point, it was less about serious negotiations and more about getting to know each other.

It was becoming quickly apparent that there was a big cultural gap between Trakken and Tirnanog.

The Trakkens were a unified society, similar to Earth’s government. They knew of the concept of countries, since they had them in the distant past, but strangely enough, they didn’t have a concept for family structures. They only paired up temporarily for reproductive purposes, though sometimes two individuals stayed together for a longer period of time.

When Trakkens had children, they were put in a communal facility to be groomed by professional caretakers. Heritage was also a vague concept to them, since the community stood above the individual. The very idea of having a personal hand in your offspring’s upbringing was alien to them.

While Vanya explained our role within the clan hierarchy, I tried to imagine what Trakken society might look like. It sounded like they had taken Earth GOV’s dreams to the extreme.

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There was no such thing as something not ‘Trakken’. If those people were to be believed, then all the various cultures of their world had merged into a unified whole long ago. Everyone spoke the same language, a process that was in its final stages on Earth when I left.

Of Earth’s many languages, only a few dozen remained in their original form. Almost everyone spoke Earth Standard next to their native language. It was a blend of English, Chinese, and Spanish, mixed with some influences from other popular languages. The language slowly emerged as the world became ever more interconnected with the advent of the internet. Just as individual languages began to borrow foreign words from other languages to explain new concepts, others did the same, and without anyone caring about it, the most spoken languages began to fuse into a singular mess.

It was by no means a fast process, but by now it was a well-documented and acknowledged phenomenon among linguists.

Was the slow blending of languages the final step which destroyed the uniqueness of different cultures and countries? I found it to be an interesting topic. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t heard of the theory of a language shaping a person’s thought processes. Though there existed plenty of counterarguments. People adopt words from other languages when it is suitable to explain a concept.

Anyway, it sounded like the Trakkens were a little bit more advanced than Earth GOV, which made them dangerous. They had been the sole masters of their playground for centuries, and now a new toy had appeared. There was no doubt in my mind that there would be at least one attempt to snatch it.

“… which is why one of our people appeared in your museum, hunting down that alien,” Vanya finally got to the point after an hour of back and forth. “It was kind of an accident, but we would be willing to make reparations for any injuries or damages. Our doctors are quite good.”

The leading Trakken, Ittoit, looked flustered. “It sounds like you prevented that alien from causing harm. It is not certain whether it would have attacked our people, but for now, it seems to remain an issue between you and the ‘thing’s’ overlords. As for the security guard who tried to tranquillise your soldier, he is well enough, and nobody else got hurt. I see no reason to complain. As for contact between our two people, we would like to keep it to a minimum until it is certain that there will be no adverse effects like illnesses or parasites.”

Ittar looked up from her tablet. “Would it be possible for us to visit Tirnanog? Exchanging delegations would go a long way towards building trust.”

Vanya tilted her head. “Sure, why not? As long as you will be able to survive.”

Ittoit narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Vanya exchanged a glance with Tianna before she returned her attention to the Trakken. “Tirnanog isn’t exactly a hospitable place. There is the increased gravity for one. Would you be able to survive on a world with twice the gravity? The fauna and flora are also deadly. And the alien facility we took over isn’t exactly concerned about maintaining a pressurised environment in all sections.”

The Trakken considered this, but the way Ittoit looked at the spear I had on my back made it seem like he had his doubts about the truthfulness of Vanya’s words. After all, how much of a challenge could the environment pose if we were deploying such primitive weaponry?

“We will need further clarifications on that point, but the gravity should be no problem in the short term,” Ittar admitted. “Are Tirnanog’s extreme environments the reason why your people go to such lengths with their genetic modifications?”

Vanya nodded.

“If this world is so dangerous, then why do you allow so many different mutations? Wouldn’t it be more beneficial to have everyone take on the optimal mutation?” Ittar continued.

“There is no such thing as an optimal solution in a place with as many different threats as there are stars in the sky,” Vanya explained. “Those with enhanced senses can see a threat coming before it arrives, but they can’t fight it. Those with the power to fight might fall prey to an ambush. Both may lack the ability to heal others or to provide the equipment and tools necessary for survival.”

“I see, so why don’t we get to your true reason for being here?” Ittoit suggested.

“What would make you think that we are lying?” Tianna spoke up, sounding offended. She was apparently unwilling to reveal our hand quite yet.

Vanya tilted her head and raised a hand to stop Tianna from making a scene. “The alien has something we need. We want it back.”

“I am afraid that we can’t give you the corpse,” Ittoit rejected. “The government won’t release it.”

“That’s fine,” Vanya admitted. “We just need a small item from among the creature’s possessions.”

“What price would you be willing to pay?” the Trakken asked.

“What do you need?” Vanya spread her hands in a questioning gesture.

“Access to your world,” Ittoit answered without hesitation. “Going by your description, it sounds like it has a lot of unused space.”

Vanya narrowed her eyes. “Because of the severe overpopulation problems your people are fighting with?”

Ittoit and Ittar looked at each other. “How did you know?”

Vanya smiled, intentionally doing it the human way. “Because I am smart.”

Then she stopped smiling. “We will not give your people access to Tirnanog. The way I see it, there are only two outcomes. Either your colonists die because they are unable to deal with the challenges, or you achieve your goal and will inevitably come into conflict with my people. Our cultures are just too different. Both scenarios are undesirable to me… but there would be a third option.”

“Which is?” Ittar asked.

“We give you the wormhole technology and you find your own worlds to colonise,” Vanya suggested. “We have only done a quick survey of our own, but the alien data we got our hands on suggests that there are plenty of worlds out there to colonise. Plus, it seems like you have the technology to make do with any solar system as long as there are resources.”

“Wormhole technology?” Ittoit asked.

“A way to open a portal between two distant points in space, allowing for instantaneous travel over vast distances. It would solve your population problem overnight. Assuming you get me someone with real decision-making power to talk with.” Vanya crossed her arms and waited.

Ittoit just looked at her for a long moment before he rose from his seat. “We will talk with our superiors and relay your wishes.”

The Trakken retreated from the room, and Tianna turned to face Vanya, using the UI’s chat function.

‘Is it wise to allow them to spread over the stars? What if they become a problem in the future?’

‘Then it is a future problem,’ Vanya replied. ‘Don’t underestimate how vast the galaxy is. Even if we give them the wormhole technology and it allows them to spread over a thousand stars, it would be far more likely for their society to tear itself apart because of the inevitable differences between their colonies than for them to enter a conflict with us. Our foremost problem right now is to get Tirnanog out of the cross-hairs of any alien intervention. If we are lucky, the alien clean-up team arrives at the Milky Way and decides a rapidly spreading human society is the bigger problem than their broken petri dish.’