Algarine

The stranger stared at the counter, wondering where anyone was. He was in the mood for some of the delicious goodness that was ice cream from this odd planet, but there was nobody around. Even the coolers were barren. It had taken a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the low light in the room. Shaking his head, he muttered something about lack of decency and service abilities and headed back out of the building. Pulling out a small datapad, he activated it with his fingerprint.

"Aww, No service? Friggin Sprint, I'll tell ya what. Probably going to charge me an arm and a leg for international data rates too."

He activated an app and began to take pictures with the device before getting into the car. He was grateful that he had downloaded a few albums onto the device and began to play Pink Floyd's The Division Bell album. Marooned came on and the wails of the guitar echoed through the empty streets.  He turned on the car and it started with a mighty roar. As he leaned back to back the car up, he saw the blue dudes come around the corner. Excited to see something sentient, he put the car back into park and hopped out. Waving his arms, he shouted.

"Hey! Need a lift?"

"Woah woah woah!"

He waved his hands in front of him, then held them to the sky as though he were trying to hold up his car. Looking on as the rifles lowered, he was certain he was moments away from an underwear change.

"Woah, guys. I was just here for some sweet treats I was told about in a chat I was having with this guy and..."

He trailed off, realizing he may have been duped to coming here. He mouthed a swear word off to the side, then looked back at the more diplomatic man.

"Yeah, I'm just here to sightsee and get ice cream. But I think I will only get to sightsee  since it seems pretty vacant here."

He lowered his hands and reached out his right hand toward the blue guy. With a smile, and a slight shake of the hand he announced

"You can call me Cee. And the ride is still open to ya'll if you want. Just don't shoot me, please."

Cee stopped and looked around at the sounds that were coming from everywhere. His eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped.

What. The. Balls?

The low rumble sounded again while the ambassador introduced himself, the clamorous array of voices continuing once he finished.

[[We have seen your intent. We will know what you offer.]]

The interest the surrounding city had exuded now focused in, and without any visible change, the air itself seemed to be regarding the ambassador and his emblem intently. The voices began again..

[[Sith. Jedi. Mandalorian. Yuuzhan Vong. Many have approached us.]] With each word, one voice out of the many began to strengthen, the chorus in its song rather than standing alongside it. [[Many have been welcomed into our fold.]]

[[Tell me, Mitth'raw'chef of the Chiss Ascendancy, what you bring for us.]]

In the building across the street, behind the slack-jawed man still standing in the open, movement could be seen through a window as one of the suits of armour began to shift..

“I bring an alliance! A chance for us to both grow in shared harmony!”
Mitth’raw’chaf continued to shout, simply due to the fact that he was unaware if the chorus of voices that surrounded them were very apt at hearing. He, truth be told, felt a bit overwhelmed by the virus. If it had consumed each of the hundreds of thousands of voices it was made up of, did it possess the experiences, knowledge, expertise, and combined intelligence of all of them? It’s intellectual capacity certainly dwarfed that of even the most powerful supercomputers. He threw a holoprojector onto the floor before activating it, revealing an image of a Chiss, and basic things about the Ascendancy. Things that a potential ally might want to know.
“Here! This is for you... what should I call you?”

At the appearance of the holoprojector's information, a dull silence fell across the city, save for the now-evident shuffle and clank of armour across the street. A one-armed humanoid figure in full Mandalorian armour stood outside the opposite building, staring down the assembly before it. Where the arm was missing, that same sickening blue colour which coated the buildings could be seen shimmering within.

[[You fascinate me.]]

This time there was a clear difference. The voice from before was speaking, and the rest were echoing its words. It sounded male, human, speaking with a Coruscanti accent.. and it still seemed to be coming from all around, rather than from the Mandalorian figure before them.

[[Come to the city square to the north. We will discuss more there.]] The voice chuckled then, an unsettling sound to hear chorused by so many. [[And what you may call me is Miros.]]

On that note, the Mandalorian figure gestured to the north then turned its head to look at Cee.

[[And what of you?]]

The singular voice -- Miros -- was still evident, but it was once again part of the chorus as the pathogen questioned the other traveler..

The statue in the center of the plaza stood, in fitting theme, as a monument to one who had once been a hero to the city. Now, though, the blue lines that coated its surface masked its appearance and covered up any former resemblance. The veins stretched all around, but it didn't take long after that for the reason they had been called there to become apparent: there was a large concentration of the substance here, north of the statue, forming into a slowly undulating pool as the veins overlapped one another. Steadily they built on top of each other, leading upward in a slow progression to a single chair resting stably on its surface. It was neither ornate nor large enough to qualify as what most would expect from a throne, but it was clearly just that: a throne for the figure sitting upon it.

The figure, a seemingly human male with short, dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, stared at them from across the plaza as they entered. He smiled as the ambassador announced their presence, then spoke in a voice that carried across the courtyard as if delivered to them personally, rather than shouted.

"So I see. Welcome."

If there was any doubt in any of their minds as to the figure's identity, the distinct voice that had stood out before would have been a dead giveaway. The most notable difference now was that, instead of commanding hundreds to echo his will and his words, he now spoke alone. The smile on his face grew as he stood and stepped forward into the viscous pool, his boots barely denting the surface as he walked toward them.

"I'm truly glad you decided to come. Some things, I feel, require a more.. personal touch."

His smile switched to an almost jovial grin as he reached solid ground and slowed his approach.

"It wouldn't be proper to have you keep calling into the air, now, would it?"

Again came that chuckle, and though it lacked its echoes, it had lost none of its gravity or confidence.. or amusement.

The guard’s, deciding I’m not to act rashly, kept their weapons at their sides for now, though they did disengage the safety and grasped the grips on their weapons a little tighter, the cold wind blowing against their pale blue transparisteel faceplates. The ambassador stepped forward, hands clearly visible. This was a very precarious situation, and they had to make sure no action was misinterpreted by their hosts. Seeing as they could very easily be killed instantly,
“No, I suppose not.”
The computer HUDs of the guards had the figure’s head locked dead center. If they chose to fire, the servos in their suits would make microadjustments to the trajectory of the shots if needed. It was a system that was only implemented for those few who needed it, ambassadorial guards included. Never knew when a situation might turn bad.
“We heard word of what happened here from allies of ours. But we are at a junction where having more allies would be most beneficial to our overall goals. Hence why we came to Algara, expecting to find something that could not be negotiated with. But now that we have seen that you can make contact with us, perhaps there is a chance that a deal could be put in place?”