After RBO-29 had eaten the science minister for its impudence, Refsalot raised a brow and asked, "Um, are they all blue and pink like this?"
"No, no," grumbled the wealthiest dragon in the history of the galaxy. "Only the annoying ones whose grammar is as bad as their breath."
Refsalot switched to raising the other brow. "I'm sure at least one of us has used pretty ugly grammar at some point too, you know."
"That's different," the dragon insisted, without explaining why. "Anyway, I hope you're happy with improved eco restoration, as that's what we're working on, whether we like it or not!"
Luckily, they both liked it a lot.
With their colony ship's chosen destination however, they were ... not as happy. "It looked okay to me when it landed," Refsalot hedged. "I didn't look too closely at how much space was off that way before we reached the edge of the galaxy, so I thought it was sort of coreward, and..."
"I told you yellow stars were better," the dragon grumbled.
"Oh, well." Refsalot turned to the galactic map in hopes of finding a distraction. "Lots of good stars out there. Let's go ahead and get some propulsion research started!"
The distraction might have worked better had there been a more attractive research option available than 4-parsec hydrogen fuel. Worse yet, a few years later, to the further disappointment of RBO-29, the only construction-based option turned out to be a basic waste reduction technology.
In spite of the setbacks, Refsalot and RBO-29 agreed that research must proceed, mostly funded from the colony at Anraq, alongside factory construction at the Hoard world. Hopes were high, as the number of factories was about to finally catch up with the population growth of quick-hatching dragon-spawn "Sakkra" ... when a transmission with a mysterious source known only as "Orion" echoed across the spacewaves of the galaxy:
Something with golden skin and neon-red spider eyes reported that the Klackon people were the first to colonize their sixth star system. Refsalot looked at RBO-29. RBO-29 looked at Refsalot.
"They're bugs," the dragon explained. "They make pretty noises when you squish them. Oh, and they're really, really good at building pretty much everything, such as factories and research labs and enormous, deadly fleets."
Politely, Count Refsalot asked, "Could you remind me how many stars we control?"
"Two," said the dragon, curtly. "And the second one is too close by, and not very big, and not as fertile as..."
Refsalot groaned and held his head. "Okay, okay, okay! I just mean we have some catching up to do, okay?"
They started on their first new colony ship, alongside the last of the hoard world's factories, that very year.
Under the guidance of Refsalot and RBO-29, the Sakkra expanded their empire as quickly as they knew how, without neglecting their threefold research priorities. By 2341, they were well on their way toward the discovery of industrial improvement technology, with terraforming and nuclear engines designs threatening to finish every year, and had claimed the systems of Mu Delphi just beyond the rimward nebula, and Reticuli, just beyond Rigel and near the coreward nebula, most recently. Their galactic conquest seemed to be going swimmingly until 2343 ... when they discovered what the Klackons were doing.
Technologically inclined - they had already developed irridium for six-parsec starship range - and mad as a hatter's fleas, the bug people agreed to a small trade package even as they wiggled their feelers in random directions and whistled shrill variations on a nameless psychotic's favorite theme. In spite of the Sakkra's rapid growth, the Klackons still controlled nearly twice as many stars, in a vast sweeping curve that was apparently meant to represent "Superbug! Superbug! YAaaaaAAAaaaayyyyy!!! Faster than a flying swatter! Stronger than windshields! Able to leap tall ant hills in a single bound! Look! Up in the stars! It's a meteoritey thing! It's a satellite or something! It's ... SUPERBUG!!!!!!!! YAaayyaayaAAAAAAAAAyyyaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy!!!!"
Asked for an explanation, Queen Kikitik held up one of her pincers behind her head, used the other to bop herself repeatedly on the chitinous cheek, flicked her mandibles around her frothing maw, and alternated her huge glowing eyes between shades of amber, lavendar, and flourescent pink.
Refsalot coughed slightly, offered an uncertain, "We come in peace?" and seeing that this overture had no effect whatever, took an indefinite vacation from diplomacy.
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Next: "Working Out Differences"
