It is the year (insert impressive future year here)! Humanity has reached out and touched most of the galaxy. We say "most" because while the center has finally been observed, it hasn't been explored because of the danger factor. The radiation alone pierces most shielding. And that's not to mention the gravity of the super massive black hole at the core.

But while the core of the galaxy is too stormy, the edge has been cold and quiet, mostly used as mining colonies and such. People have artificial atmospheres there. Meanwhile, the CHZ (circumstellar habitable zone) nicknamed the "Goldilocks Zone", has many a world that has been terraformed and inhabited. So far, there have been no sign of aliens, but humans may as well be alien races by now as they are so many nationalities, sentient robots, and even genetically altered humans who now resemble all kinds of shapes and sizes.

Today's story starts on the planet Hollos Imperius, some 25,000 light years away from Earth (if you drew a straight line). This planet has been inhabited for about 500 years by now, so it's relatively colonized and pretty. Its cities are small and somewhat intertwined with nature.

Joe thinks the nickname of the stellar local is tempting fate to throw giant killer space bears at them.  Just sayin.

As for transhumanism, Joe is one of the more boring 'Human+' varieties with some Optics extras in one eye.  If the current fashion trends involve pockets, Joe is so there.  If not, something with pockets.  Currently between freelance security that does not call for massive killborgs guarding blast shields, Joe is sightseeing for once.

Emerald is a short li'l fox. While people still do alter DNA and such, in her case, she was born to a pair of foxes who were born to foxes who were born to... you get the idea. Emerald is visiting as well, taking part in the same tour group as Joe. She hasn't been here before, but she's heard some good things and many of its hotspots are used as vacation resorts, even for people from Earth if they have the money to spend. She takes in the air with a bright smile, wags her tail some, and follows the tour guide.

The tour guide takes the group on a stroll through the woods (another thing is that since there isn't much in the way of alien plantlife, most trees look like trees from Earth). When the tour guide starts talking about the locals, she explains about their language some, telling how it had its origins in Russia back on Earth, but has since become so different that it's almost nothing like Russian anymore.

Emerald raises a hand. "But since it has its roots in Russia, does it have the same root words via Ancient Russian as the modern Russian tongue does?"

The tour guide smiles and nods. "If you studied ancient Russian, then yes, you could potentially figure out both the Hollos language and Modern Russian language."

"Probably a lot more effort than a translation rig, but then actually knowing a language in the first place would mean you wouldn't need one in the first place I guess." It also meant less vulnerability to someone switching your translation protocols as a prank.

Joe looks down literally but not metaphorically at Emerald, "I don't suppose you DO know ancient Russian?"  She totally does.

Emerald grins and looks up at Joe. "Yes, I do."

Various reactions to this range from "gosh that's impressive" expressions to completely ignoring.

Emerald asks, "Linguistics happens to be something I enjoy, so I study all kinds of languages. You?"

  Joe shrugs, "I just let the upgrades deal with most language barriers for me.  I know the more common ones wholesale but there's so many you know?"  Trivia Fact:  Mass effect lore entries claim that translator programmers have a high nervous breakdown and suicide rate.

  "I'm a mostly retired Low Grade security agent.  Work is work and income is income, but I'm more the sort you hire when you know trouble is a possibility, but not the sort military grade preparations are a safe or reasonable expense."

Emerald keeps smiling. "Then lucky me being with you. I feel safer now. But I mean... is that your hobby? Or is there something else you do in your spare time besides tour young planets?"

The ground is soft, yet any small rock can be felt under his thinly padded feet. Wearing the night-black suit, with neon red lighting illuminating lines on his athletic frame, was something he'd grown used to. Ever since he was a kid the suit signified his station in life. 

His family were pioneers. They were among the first to settle on Hollos Imperius. Taking the roll as Protectorate. The roll required constant vigilance, never wavering while on, or off, duty. Putting your life on the line for anyone, regardless of their station. You were shield, their weapon, their protector. The station was relied on so heavily that people began to believe in the Protectorate as a symbol.

It was this symbol that soon became a position of power, of influence over their small sect. Aldrych's grandfather had been elected Prime -- the head of the sect. During his reign the sect thrived, industry and technology flourished, but some grew jealous. Upon his death a struggle for power erupted in a cataclysmic battle that resulted in the death of thousands. Dwindling their number from one hundred times ten to only three hundred plus. This event caused a rift in the sect, and those those that chosen to stay are what those on this excursion see in Aldrych.

Overhearing the conversation between the fox and the 'Human+', he speaks in Ancient Russian, "You know of the mother lands? It's tongues?" It is roughly spoken, Ancient Russian was something only spoken during mass, otherwise it was Modern Russian or Nato (a standardized form of English that incorporated a variety of cultures, including Mandarian, Arabic, and Spanish -- though the written form is still of the English alphabet).

"If safety is what you seek, look no further. As along as a Protectorate stands vigil you will be safe." He sets his pace with the other two; taping a hidden button on his sleeve his helmet retracts into a tiny compartment at the base of this neck. "I am called Aldrych, sixth of my name, may I inquire as to who you two may be?" It was the duty of a Protectorate to know whom he was guarding.