STC Syren

Major Voroei rose up from his somewhat hunched position and spoke "Very well". The trio approached the table and took up their positions. A Minor reached out towards the half frozen pitcher of water and lifted it, examining for a moment. He raised his hand, and from his gauntlet projected a small, energy dagger. He carefully held it near the pitcher for but a second, then disabled it. Carefully, he replaced the now melted (and, truth be told, now warm) water upon the table. The Major spoke, but he had switched tongue, which to the Aradites would sound as though he spoke another language entire (Which truthfully, he was). The language was calmer and more rolling than the previous one, the words smooth though carrying authoritative tones. He spoke only for a few seconds and then lowered himself into his seat. The minors remained standing for the moment. The major turned his head back towards the Aradites, switching back to the black tongue for the Commanders translator.
"Forgive me for the imposition of my prayer, Commander. It is..." He paused a short moment "Ah come, we shall not bore you. Tell us the state of your corner of the galaxy!" He raised his hand then lowered it and the two minors sank into their seats. The minor took the wine and stared at it for a moment before pouring it into the Majors cup and handing it to the major, who poured it onto the cups of both minors. There was a shimmer as the trio lowered their shields and began to feast upon the meal, with a paticular taste for meat. They ate somewhat noisily as their mandibles snapped and crunched bones, their large predatory teeth tearing the food apart in their mouths. Whenever one of the Lorca finished the wine, the Lorca sitting next to him would pour another drink. It was a sign of great trust of the part of the receiver. 
The major sat back slightly and held the cup in one hand, drinking from it. Then he turned his head to the side, as if listening to something, and spoke
"Conduct it as you feel, Lance Minor, only disturb me should the situation be grave."
He returned his gaze to the commander "Forgive me, I am making a poor guest" He bowed his head slightly to look at the floor, then raised it again "Please, tell us about the affairs in this part of the galaxy. My people are as ignorant as a young Garg pup of these going ons. Our knowledge is to our own sectors, where the dead walk and those who are not dead trust us not."

Nouvelle, Alien Contact.

The Minor frowned as he watched the information play, then tapped a command and spoke to the Major
"We are recieving two more contacts, one from the Terrans and the other from... Valkian. How should I respond?"
"Conduct it as you feel, Lance Minor, only disturb me should the situation be grave."
The Minor tapped a control broadcasting back to the Valk Nation and the Terrans in butchered English
"Operating procedure demand two men with the vessel. Lack available warriors for two meetings. Suggest three way meeting at coordinates on Nouvelle. Transmitting. Will arrive in dropship. Come, know us better!"
The port exit from the hanger slid open and the dropship turned around, exiting through the shields. The bulkhead slid shut behind it, and the dropship began to fly down to the planet, heading for a patch of the counctry side a short distance away from the capital city...