Nirauan's Terrain

A quizzical expression crossed Formas' face as the boy spoke. Not because he was a boy, nor because he had assumed he would be speaking with Commander Damas, that much was only natural. No, his confusion sprang from the fact that he had arrived alone, as requested, and yet the boy seemed to require clarification as to whom he should address. "No, I'm afraid the Commander's presence is still required aboard his ship. I, am Chaf'orma'sabosen, Chief Diplomatic Officer aboard the Springhawk. An elegant bow accompanied the introduction. "You may call me Formas, as I understand the use of core names is less demanding for the human tongue." He stood in front of the boy, no more than three meters separating them, and did his best to avoid towering over the child. Not an easy feat for one that was taller than most grown men, yet he did not want to open these negotiations with intimidation. "To whom am I speaking?"

Formas smiled at the boy's invitation, but shook his head. "No, I'm afraid that would be quite a walk, and I would prefer to reach an agreement as soon as possible." The clearing in which the Springhawk had deposited him was intentionally distanced from the fortress known as the Hand of Thrawn so as to create some semblance of neutral ground, though this Jinn boy seemed to have no regard for his own terms. He had requested that the chiss representative arrive alone, yet brought with him a contingent of soldiers. Formas may not have wished to begin the proceedings with intimidation, but it seemed the child had no such qualms. "So then, Jace, shall we begin? As the party requesting the parlay, I assume you have a proposal to offer?"

Formas half shook his head once as the proposal was laid out before him and even his diplomatic sensibilities had a hard time digesting the arrogance of it. It had not even been a week since they had retreated out of the system, and they already had the audacity to demand half the planet. Unacceptable. "I am afraid that will not be possible. This may sound harsh to human ears, but I assure you it is simply the way of our culture. Chiss cannot share control of a colony with someone they do not respect. It would degrade us to bring ourselves to the same level as someone who has been shown to be beneath us in terms of capability and prowess, and I am afraid that our forces have already done just that by forcing you to retreat even when outnumbered ten to one. I am sure you understand."

He paused, giving the boy a chance to digest what he had said, but then went on before he could reply. "My counter proposal is this: If you can prove yourselves our equal or better in fair combat, I am certain the Commander would reconsider the terms of your original proposal. If not, however, I am afraid the only proposal he will accept is your complete withdrawal from the system.

"We have no stipulations to add, though I'm sure commander Damas would be willing to consider any stipulations you wish to impose. As we have no ships of comparable size and armament, I assume this will be a test of personal combat. Who is it the Commander will be facing?" The twitching fingers did not go unnoticed by Formas, few things did for a man like him, but whether the child had some sort of nervous tick or was simply getting antsy and impatient, the motions mattered little. Unless... Without turning his head, Formas focused on his peripheral vision to study each of the soldiers he could currently see, watching them for any reactions to the boy's finger movements. To the boy, however, (as well as the soldiers) he would still appear entirely focused on their conversation.

The boy's words stumbled over each other in a rush, he seemed anxious to get this over with, and Formas only nodded. Had it been any other man, his eyes would have narrowed in suspicion at the fact that they sent a child to fight rather than a soldier, but Formas had far more control over himself than that. "Very well. I shall inform the Commander."

He turned and walked several meters away, out of earshot from both the soldiers and the boy, then raised a comm device to his lips and spoke into it briefly before returning. "The commander will be here shortly. I would advise stepping back, as he will have to land the cruiser to disembark." Suiting his words, Formas strode past the boy and nearly to the edge of the clearing, then turned back to face the descending ship.

Once it was on the ground, the ship's main boarding ramp descended and Damas, clad in full combat gear ranging from his matte-black armor to the charrics at his hips and back, strode purposefully down the ramp. Once he was clear, the ramp closed and the ship ascended once more, leaving Damas and his diplomatic officer to face the boy and his troops (should they break the deal and decide to intervene) alone. When he caught sight of the boy, he pulled up short. "THIS is who I'll be fighting! A CHILD!" He spun to face Formas. "Have you lost your mind! I came to fight a soldier in fair combat, not butcher a child with no chance."

"My apologies Commander, but he dictated the terms himself. He will be the one you face."

Damas narrowed his eyes and glared at the other man, then turned to face the boy again. "So be it." He lifted the helmet from under his left arm and slid it onto his head, releasing a hiss as the armor sealed itself. When he spoke again, his voice came out filtered and mechanical.

Ready when you are, boy. Matching his actions to the words, he pulled the heavy repeating charric off his back and switched the setting to stun, then stood ready and waiting.

Damas watched as the boy climbed into the man-sized suit of armor, though it was still a good six inches shorter than himself, and grunted when it closed up and he designated himself as ready. Cute. Putting a child in a man-sized toy soldier didn't make that child a man, and it certainly didn't give him the experience of a seasoned veteran. Damas' rifle came up in one smooth, rapid motion, honed from decades of combat experience, and he centered his aim on the space where the boy's head was inside the armor (it wasn't specified if that would be the helmet or the chest), and squeezed the trigger. A green EM-pulse raced out of the barrel, crossing the intervening space in an instant and expanding to roughly one meter across by the time it reached the boy. The pulse was no ordinary EMP, but rather a chiss variation that was tuned to neurological processes. It would shut down the conscious mind of any being it struck, while leaving autonomic functions entirely intact, and with the exception of radiation blocking materials such as lead or agrinium, it would simply pass through any physical armor it contacted.