[i]Nona Bellicae[/i] [b]Community Chamber, MFAV Wings of Hope, 0945 Ship Time[/b] The funeral choir finished up their song. There weren't any bodies to really dispose of, but we all went through the motions, each of the assembled determined to demonstrate their loyalty. If not to the ship, or to the mission, or even to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, then at least to protocol. It was protocol that kept the ship moving forwards, even in the face of terrible accidents. Speaking of accidents. Lune Omanix. made his way through the crowd, bobbing his head and excusing himself as he pushed his way through the knots of Orpil grieving, or plotting, it was sometimes hard to tell which. Judging by the jaunty little hops he took as he approached, he was struggling to contain his high spirits. As an assistant, this particular Nezzim left a lot to be desired. He was assigned to the ship to get him away from Ave-Orpil, and assigned as my assitant because the assistant of an assistant was unlikely to ever be in a position to cause much harm. I suppose a period of exile doesn't seem so terrible if you don't realise that's what it is. "Congratulations," he begins, barely capable of standing still in front of me, "on your promotion. Oh, and mine too! Assistant to the Ministry Diplomat, even for a field promotion, that's not bad, not bad at all. Better quarters too, I'd guess." Here was Lune, hopping about without a worry. In a room of respectful stillness, he was dancing. A few people were turning to look at him - at me, by extension - before going back to their own conversations. Even my sternest look does nothing to stop him wondering, out loud, about things like pay grades and expense accounts and access to Ministry secrets an- I can't take it. I need to get out of there. I turn, I leave, and Lune follows, now gently gliding along behind me with wings outstretched. He provides his usual running commentary as we arrive at our quarters, I politely dip my head to those we pass, and in return they do the same. Protocol keeps us moving forwards, even in the face of terrible accidents. The door snaps shut behind us. Sadly, it does not cut Lune in two. His incessant chatter continues, even as he clambers on to his perch and orders his terminal to connect to the ship network. With one talon gripping his perch, and the other wrapped about the odd little cylindrical thing that the Nezzim used to interact with the terminals, he just talked and talked and talked. I couldn't see what was on his terminal screen, but the glow of the display cast rippling patterns across his face. Was he just mindlessly scrolling through today's schedule? If Lune had noticed that I was staring at him, he was at least polite enough to not say anything. I don't know what to say, and even if I did, there was no pause long enough in Lune's rambling to begin speaking. I went through my usual morning routine, settling down in front of my own terminal, flicking through documents, and then messages, with a flick of my head. "Anything interesting?" Was Lune watching me? "I haven't forgiven you yet," I say, eyes studiously fixed on the terminal display. Most of the messages are about the day-to-day business of the ship. Even though I know nothing about the details of how such a ship should be mintained, or how food is produced, or projected fuel consumption or any of that, I'm now kept in the loop. Presumably, as the Ministry Diplomat for the ship - one of many in the fleet operated by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs - I was expected to at least be told these sorts of things. There was a message from the Ministry itself, detailing the course of action we were to follow. Broadly speaking, the mission would still go ahead, even if we would be running late. Apologise, don't mention the change in Ministry Diplomat, ingratiate yourself to GFUN representatives, stress our commitment to joining, offer gifts, learn about the other members, establish an embassy, brief the staff and, most of all, enjoy your new role. "-as far as I can tell, nobody else wanted those snacks, they'd be going to waste, I know it said Engineering Staff Only, but-" [i]Establish an embassy?[/i] "-and in my defence, he started it, you spill a drink, you offer to buy a new one, that's plain courtesy, that is-" None of us would be going back home. "Are you even listening? I'm running out of stuff to apologise for here." "I shall assume that your display during the Mourning Song was in there somewhere. You're forgiven. Now could you take down this message? It'll be going out to all of the Diplomatic Branch, so-" "Yeah, yeah, no errors." I gesture for my terminal to go into standby mode and, for a moment, see my own nervous looking reflection staring back at me from the display. My first official proclamation as a Ministry Diplomat. Formality was needed. Protocol keeps us moving forwards. It's not exile if you don't think of it that way. "It is with great sadness that..." ++++ Rcpt: Diplomatic Branch ~ MFAV-WoH Sndr: Ministry Diplomat Office ~ MFAV-WoH Subj: A Change Of Course [Flag: Important] It is with great sadness that I must assume the role of Ministry Diplomat aboard the Wings of Hope. The loss of Graffil and his associates weighs heavily upon us all, but our commitment to the needs of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Greater Orpil Flock is unwavering. Let us carry their memory in our chests and, following today's moving Mourning Song, let us honour these memories through correct and considered action. With the passing of Graffil, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has ordered a change of course for the Diplomatic Branch. Rather than simply acting as a delegate of negotiators, our new role is closer to Graffil's original vision. We are to establish a home amongst the Galactic Federation of United Nations as an embassy, conducting business and representing the interests of the Greater Orpil Flock to the wider galactic community. This bold gesture represents a significant step forward in Graffil's dream of full membership of the Galactic Federation and we at the Ministry Diplomat Office are truly thankful for the opportunity to continue his legacy. After the Diplomatic Branch has been safely delivered, the Wings of Hope will set a course back to Ave-Orpil for repairs, refitting and renaming as the MFAV Memory of Graffil. I look forward to working alongside you in the coming years, establishing a new home for ourselves amongst the people of the Galactic Federation. An announcement regarding change to ship-clock time will follow, we assemble for departure at eleven-hundred tomorrow in Hangar Four. I look forward to meeting you all in person then in my capacity as Ministry Diplomat. The Ministry Diplomat Office Ministy of Foreign Affairs Vessel Wings of Hope ++++ [i]Assistants 2nd Class Neru Monticum & Bali Encreada, Maintenance Branch[/i] [B]Hangar Four, MFAV Wings of Hope, 1215h Adjusted Ship Time[/b] Two Orp work to take down the rather festive looking flags that had been arranged around the walls of Hangar Four. Their conversation is shouted across the huge empty space, with the shuttle long since departed and the festivities over, it was likely that the space would be used for storage on the return journey back to Ave-Orpil. Neither of the Orp seem to be in much of a hurry to get their work done. "So then what happened? Nobody showed up?" "Ah, no, no, [i]some[/i] did, but word is that most of that branch resigned. After the message." "Ha!" His snorting sort of laugh echoed across the hangar. "It's not that funny." "Imagine, you got the shuttle, that'll take a hundred if it's a good mix, and this whole big space, all dressed up, and [i]how[/i] many showed up?" "Ten, I'd say. Twelve, if you count the new Ministry Diplomat and her assistant." "Lune?" "You mean that's the one that ate our lunch last week?" "The very same." "Maybe it [i]is[/i] that funny."