NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is a closed thingy, since it all takes place in the most heavily guarded locations of Tsaraine (or other areas which aren't as heavily guarded but which are highly radioactive). However, you're very welcome to read it (or tag it), because it will have big effects on Tsaraine.

Chronologically it takes place shortly after this (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2055818) thread (which you're very welcome to contribute to, if you have non-human, non-Elven (I've already got plenty of Elven samples) and non-catgirl (yes, I'm prejudiced against catgirls and the like) tissue samples avaliable. Sentient species, of course). It sort of leads on from this (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2050102) thread, which occurs several months before.

I have a talent for large OOC disclaimers, it seems. Well, on to the IC stuff...

Eugenics and Cloning Research Core, The Eyrie, Tsaraine

Rene Seingult arrived at the ECRC early in the morning, alone save for the constant shadow of her Rukine bodyguard.

Startling the Researchers sitting blearily before their screens, Rene brushed past them as they rose to greet her, and let herself into the Corps Commandant's office.

"Domina!" she exclaimed, putting down her coffee mug heavily. "A, a, a pleasure to have you here, my lady. What can we do for you?"

That, of course, was a polite way of saying "Oh shit, the boss is here! Fate be kind, what does she want?", and Rene knew it. She gave the Commandant a friendly, cheerful smile that disconcerted the poor woman immensely.

"I have a project for you," Rene replied, sitting down in the chair across the desk. "Yseult keiMorahn, isn't it? I remember signing your promotion orders."

"Yes, Domina," Yseult replied, somewhat warily, "I have been here for five months now."

Rene smiled, and said nothing. Yseult struggled to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"We are of course willing to undertake any new project, Domina, but we have run into, ah, resource scarcities."

In a capitalist nation, they would have said "financial difficulties". Tracking the births, deaths and genotypes of almost one and a half billion people took almost all the computing power the ECRC possessed.

Rene nodded; she knew about their problems, of course, having looked them up earlier in the morning.

"Any resources you require will be provided," Rene assured her. The scaling down of Division Seven meant there were suddenly resources to spare.

"Ah, thank you, Domina. Well then. What project would you have us undertake?"

"You have the new tissue samples, do you not?"

Yseult nodded. She wasn't about to admit it, but she'd been puzzled as to why the samples had been sent to her Corps, instead of somewhere more appropriate, like Biosystems Development.

"You will of course be aware of the Rukine Knight project," Rene continued, a tilt of her head indicating her hulking bodyguard standing in the corner.

Yseult nodded again; a sub-corps of the ECRC had pioneered Rukine development, splicing modified genes from sharks and electric eels into the Y chromosomes of human embryos to create the Rukine Knights, with their skills at electromagnetic manipulation.

"I wish for something similar," Rene told her, "Using the non-human genomes we have aquired, particularly those of the Noldorin Elves."

The Domina went on to explain precisely what attributes she was looking for; increased intellect, lifespan, immune system, even down to the skin, hair and eye colours (all very non-Tsarainese, Yseult noted to herself), and a host of other minor adaptions. Finally she paused, waiting for Yseult's reply.

"It can be done, Domina," she said finally, "It is definitely possible. It will take some time, of course. But, may I ask - what is it for?"

"Certainly you may," Rene replied, giving her that unsettling smile again. "I want Homo sapiens superior. I want Kash'ea."

The first was easily enough understood, but Kash'ea were the godlike children of the dragons of Rukine theology. Yseult did not understand why the Domina would want them, but a name was a name, and she didn't have to, after all.

"It can be done," she repeated, almost scared of that fact. The Domina was the Domina, of course, but what Pandora's Box was she opening here?

[tag]

[Oh, and I seem to do disclaimers too, heh]

Eugenics and Cloning Research Core, The Eyrie, Tsaraine

"The work continues, Domina."

It was several weeks since Rene had begun this project, and, although the ECRC was now sporting new equipment, Yseult remained worried about it.

"The growth tanks are empty," Rene commented, waving to the rows of tanks on the other side of the soundproof glass.

"Yes, we haven't even finished creating the genome yet, Domina! These things take time-"

"I know that, keiMorahn. I also know that it will take less time, or I may have to find another Corps Commandant."

Yseult froze. "Have I displeased you, Domina?"

"The lack of alacrity you show concerns me, keiMorahn. Should it continue..." Rene let the sentence trail off, leaving just what might happen to Yseult's imagination.

"You have authorisation to use the accelerant hormones," Rene continued, "This is a priority project and I want it completed as soon as possible."

"Yes, Domina." the growth accelerant hormones caused irrepairable defects in a fifth of all foetuses they were used on, but Yseult didn't think it was wise to point that out.

Besides, with whatever they needed being supplied, they could afford not to be so miserly with their fertilisations. Although it went against her bones to do so.

"One other thing, keiMorahn," Rene said quietly, "This is prime-level security. It will not be breached, do you understand?"

Prime-level security meant that the Domina alone could know about it. What was she planning, that even the Division Commandants couldn't know of it?

"Yes, Domina," Yseult replied meekly, "I understand. All shall be as you say."

Division Council Chambers, Deep Tsarai, Tsaraine

"I declare this special meeting of the Division Council open."

The ten Division Commandants took their places around the table. Nine of them had no idea what this meeting was about; only Rene Seingult knew, and she would divulge it in her own good time.

"No doubt you're wondering why you're all here," she said. "Watch, and all shall be revealed."

She entered a code on the keypad in front of her, and the cluster of screens hanging from the ceiling lit up, displaying an odd scene; an ECRC gestation center, row upon row of growth tanks, each holding a fetus.

Nothing unusual about that; even now, most newborns came from growth tanks rather than more "natural" wombs.

"I think this may require somewhat more explanation, Domina," Ekhoi Sche'daya, the Division Two Commandant, said. "What is the meaning of this?"

"This is the future, Commandants." Rene smiled. "Engineered, just as the Rukine Knights are; these, however, are engineered for a longer lifespan, for a better immune system, for better intellect... they will become the future members of Division Five."

The future rulers of Tsaraine went unsaid, but it was there.

"Is this wise, Domina?" Erin tsaKell asked. "I would hardly trust Rukines to run the State."

"Rukines are engineered to protect the state, Erin, not run it," Rene replied. "The Ea, however, are engineered to run the state, and they shall fufill those duties nicely."

"What do you call them?" Larak tsaGehn, the Division Eight Commandant, asked in something approaching horror. "Kash'ea? Are you mad?"

"I'm your Domina, tsaGehn, and you shall have some respect, thank you," Rene snapped. "And what's in a name? I thought it fitting."

The Kash'ea were the children of the dragons of Rukine mythology, and were said to have ruled humanity for aeons before being defeated. Some Researchers had drawn parallells between the Ea and the Elves.

"I think my colleague is trying to say that the name is ... somewhat ill-omened, Domina," Irvali tsaHuri replied. "And may I ask what the purpose of this project is? We have survived perfectly well by appointing our Commandants by merit, after all."

"Technically, tsaHuri, this should be a matter for Command, and thus you would not be entitled to an answer; but I have called a special meeting about it, and thus you deserve a reply.

"Four hundred years ago," Rene began, "Kail I overthrew the Dominion, and wrote the Principles of Sound Governance. He created the Commonwealth, which led to the Second Dominion we have today.

"While much of what Kail I did was good, he also created a culture with very little to recommend it in the way of amenities or art - the things which define a culture. For four hundred years we have thought we did not need such things. I would argue the opposite.

"Thus, as Domina, I have set about reversing that. The Ea are the first step in a gradual flowering of a uniquely Tsarainese, but worthwhile, culture. You'll find more information in your project files."

The Commandants were silent, stunned. It was certainly an odd, not to mention an ambitious, plan. Was the infamous Seingult insanity manifesting itself at last?

((OOC: *tag, especially given some of the oddball stuff going on in Dragons with the Elder and all ^_~*))

OOC: Any connection between the Godblade Keepers and Ruki Aestrakor is speculation only, and will remain so. At least, that's the official line. :)

Is that thread still alive?

((OOC: Yeah, it is... it's just going reeeeeeeally freaking slowly! :lol: And speculation is cool ^_~ Speculation leaves room for crazy theories and the like =D ))

OOC: Indeed it does. Speaking of which, I've figured out the reason Kiranz started bleeding when he touched the magic sword thingy. :)

And speaking of dragons, the Ea have dragon DNA in them too.

Anyway, I should probably stop spamming my own thread now.

((OOC: I'll stop too ^_^ Sorry about the derailing =p ))

[ooc: Tagged for future reading. Nice work.]

Research Nursery Five, Eugenics and Cloning Research Core, the Eyrie, Tsaraine

In any normal nursery, the air would be filled with the gurgling sound of infant laughter and the air-raid sirens of infant wails. The infant Ea, however, were completely, eerily, silent.

Rene approved of this, having little time for squalling brats, and was pleased.

As one - that coordination must surely be a result of the draconic telepathy - the Ea turned to regard her. Their eyes were cat-slit, golden; dragon eyes. She had named them well.

"Hail, Domina," they said in unison. That was frightening, and for a moment Rene was scared she might have unleashed the Kash'ea of legend, the cruel, inhuman rulers of humanity. Frightening, too, that they were speaking at all; they were only a few months out of the growth tanks, and although they were biologically more developed, they still shouldn't have been speaking at all, if they had been normal.

But it was said that dragons knew all tongues; maybe there was some truth to that. Rene wasn't sure if even their enhanced intelligence would allow them to learn so much in so short a time.

"Hail, Ea." she replied weakly. What had she unleashed?

"You have come here before," one said; possibly female, Rene wasn't good at telling such things. She usually stayed away from children.

"I have indeed," she answered. "And how are you called?"

The Ea considered for a moment. "I am known as -" A harsh, grating word, in no language Rene knew (Fate be merciful, had they inherited some tongue from the dragon DNA, or were they manufacturing their own languages?) "And as Yseult."

"A good name," Rene replied; it had belonged to the wife of Kail I, and several queens of the First Dominion. The Commonwealth had had a space station of the same name, once.

"It suffices," Kjathen-Yseult ea Seingult replied.

Tsarainese Design Core, Nova Reio, Tsaraine

The mild hum of the ultraviolet lights combined with the rattle of the ventilation fans to drive all inspiration from Seran keiTlanst's mind.

"Fate curse it," he groaned, putting down his stylus, "How is one supposed to think in this racket?"

The noise, of course, was quite low; it would have been unnoticeable if there had been any other sound in keiTlanst's cubicle.

The problem is, he thought, There's no inspiration here. How am I supposed to design a new logo for Div5 with no proper source material?

The various encyclopaedias on the Plexus net had pictures of the old Pre-Dominion logographic system, of course, but Seran, one of Tsaraine's very few official artists, regarded those as suspect, lifeless.

Thus decided, Seran looked up those encyclopaedias to find the sources of their photographs. Many were listed as "destroyed through natural disaster" - the official term for the Obsidian Event, half a century ago.

One, however, was not; Site #0213, a Sche II tomb-shrine built around a thousand years ago. Seran pulled up an application-to-visit permit on his screen, filled out the fields, and sent it off.

A response was quick in arriving; an affirmative response, most likely filled out by a program on some mainframe over in Deep Tsarai, containing travel times, access codes, and the other sundry information required for a trip up on the Surface.

At the bottom, of course, was the standard reminder;

We remind you that the Obsidian Wastes are a highly radioactive and thus dangerous area, Seran keiTlanst. Please take care.

Division Six Surface Vehicle Depot Number Five, Nova Reio, Tsaraine

The next day, as per his instructions, Seran took the pedestrian corridors up to D6SVD5, as the acronym named it. There he took a seat, and waited for the requisite Archaeological Corps guide to show up.

That took almost half an hour, as the numbers on the clock on the wall went from 0732 to 0758 before the woman appeared.

"You're the designer, Tlanst?" she asked; one of the Hyazinari, Tsaraine's third racial group, short and blonde. "Marien Arinasi, Archaeological Corps, Expedition Assistance Subcorps."

"That's me," Seran agreed. "Was I waiting in the wrong place or something?"

"You were meant to be over there," Arinasi replied, indicating the far side of the Depot. "That's where I was waiting."

"Oh," he said, feeling sheepish, "My apologies."

The Researcher shrugged. "It doesn't matter - we're going to be out there a couple of hours anyway. Follow me!"

She led him to one of the larger surface cars, a long-range jeep with the logo of the Archaeological Corps on it's side. That bit of heraldry, too, was scheduled to be replaced.

Inside, the jeep seemed much smaller than it's exterior had led Seran to believe; every flat surface was stuffed with equipment, the myriad things one might conceviably need out in the Wastes.

Marien picked up the communit and turned it on. "D6SVD5 Command, this is ExAssist Commandant Marien Arinasi, Surface Vehicle KI-0892LR. Now departing for Site #0213, ETA three hours."

"Three hours?" Seran asked, suprised. It took only a quarter of an hour to get from Nova Reio to Scheighu, after all. "Where is this place?"

"Call up the map and you can see," Marien replied, driving the jeep out of the airlock and into the glittering black expanse of the Wastes.

Once the vehicle had hit cruising speed at 150 kph, Seran did just that, and discovered that Site #0213 was almost on the other side of Tsaraine, near the Ekatori border.

"Why exactly do you need to visit two-thirteen?" Marien asked him. "It's not exactly all that significant."

"I'm tasked with designing new insignia for every single Division," Seran replied. "The task brief said "something resembling the Sche'dayach logographic script". I need to see it up close for inspiration."

"Fair enough," Marien said.

They drove onwards across the Wastes, until the small dot marking Site #0213 drew closer to the dot marking the jeep on the map, and Seran could see the site from the forward windows; a low mound, surrounded by a fence of barbed wire, more to mark the site than to keep anybody out.

Marien parked the jeep next to the gap in the fence that must be the gateway, and they suited up in the loose-fitting black hazard suits provided to Tsarainese civilians.

Outside the cramped jeep, the Wastes were as quiet as space.

Following Marien - a black shape against a black background - Seran walked around the mound, to where a narrow entrance led down into darkness.

The torch Marien held illuminated tightly cut stone blocks, and a steep rank of steps, dry and lifeless as everything else in the Wastes.

At the bottom was the tomb-shrine itself, a small room shaped like a beehive. Off it were a series of small niches, each occupied by the skeletal remains of a Sche'dayach priest, dessicated wooden staffs (OOC: Staves?) held in bony fingers.

Around the walls and over the ceiling were thousands of spiky logographs; what Seran had come to see.

Marien started at random at a point halfway up the wall, and began to read.

""Thus it was done that Enariz of Tel Hyrasen caused to be made the shrine at Parasi, and went fourth to wander the steppes in search of ascendancy. For this above all else he sought, to redress the crimes done against Tel Hyrasen-""

"What's that one mean?" Seran asked, pointing.

"That?" Marien considered it. "Ascendancy."

OOC: I can't believe I wrote all that. It took entirely too long.

Kel Eridhant, Tsaraine

The new city was as yet little more than a gaping pit, lit with the bright lines of high-power beams.

On Seran's screens, however, the completed shafts and vaults were sharply demarcated, shining as they would when the Ascendant City was completed.

With his stylus, he stretched the blocky lines of Pre-Dominion Tsa knotwork around the tall walls, gold and blue on rich red. Those weren't Tsa colours, but the colour scheme had been sent down from on high, and he wasn't about to argue with a Corps Commandant or someone even higher.

"You can't put that design over the entrances," Marien said, looking up from her own screens, "According to this priestly codex - Upon the Sound Arrangement of the Holy Signs for His Glorification and the Safety of the Home - it's bad luck."

"So?" he asked, "Who'd notice? It's not like all that Rukine stuff is actually real."

"Who knows?" Marien replied. She took all this stuff much more seriously than Seran did. "Don't we need all the luck we can get?"

"I suppose so..." Seran said, and changed it. Fate sometimes needed a helping hand, after all.

Kel Eridhant, Tsaraine

As the construction of the city progressed deeper into the surrounding rock, the massive central shaft was recieving the first of it's decorations.

Seran stood on what the plans called the "primary ring arcade" and admired his handiwork; the Rukine knotwork which scrawled around the walls. It was difficult to make out - the shaft was still lit only by spotlights, the big floodlights which would cover the ceiling not yet installed - but the gold of the braid glittered in the dim light.

"Looks good," Marien complimented him, from where she leaned on a Kash'ha. The dragon-gargoyles ringed the edge of the arcade, looking out onto the shaft; the design had been taken from an old painting, or so the rumor said; they'd been made by another section of the Corps.

The things had been made from solid bronze, and looked suitably solemn; Seran approved of them, and of whatever long-ago First Dominion sculptor had dreampt them up from the holy books.

In cooperation with Wysterian partners in research, the Empire of Treznor announces the development of a new breed of bacteria, one that absorbs and feeds on lethal levels of hard radiation.

We have been coordinating with the Dominion of Tsaraine in the development of this project, and are request permission to use their sadly radiation-torn lands as a testbed for the final phase of the project. If successful, the bacteria will multiply exponentially in the presence of hard radiation, absorbing and draining it until it has been neutralised. Then, lacking nutrition, the bacteria will die off and decompose harmlessly.

In the event of mutation, a fail-safe has been programmed into the bugs. Bacteria that come in contact with diluted flouride will be destroyed. We are confident that the mutation cycle of the bacteria has not and will not become a greater danger than the radiation it is designed to neutralise. Small and mid-range test results have been extremely promising, and we look forward to the seeing the results in Tsaraine.

**************************
http://www.pwfc.org/images/gallery/smtorso3.jpg
Emperor Devon I
Empire of Treznor
**************************

The word 'tag' seems to... impersonal. Maybe someone could come up with something nicer. Or maybe an individual tag like a signature with a short humourous speech perhaps. Hmmm.... answers on a postcard please.

Oh, and 'tag'.

Message To: Office of Emperor Devon I, Empire of Treznor
Message Fr: Eurakh tsaShan, Terraforming Corps Commandant, Division Six, Tsaraine
Message Re: Tiny Little Lifeforms

Arkhor Devon, I am most honoured to accept your offer on behalf of the Domina and the Dominion as a whole. The Wastes have been a great hinderance to the State ever since the Event which created them, and it will be most helpful to us all to see them gone; indeed, that is the function of my own Corps!

Authorisation shall be given for Treznorch Researchers to enter Tsaraine; Fate be merciful, and success shall see the flowering of the Wastes - a day to which we all look with much anticipation.

~Eurakh tsaShan
Terraforming Corps Commandant

Obsidian Wastes, Tsaraine

The irritating thing about this job, Merach Sche'daya thought, is that there's no visible sign of progress. He couldn't actually see where his Haunt had passed, except as a green line on the flight computer, seperated from the red line he had yet to run by the dot indicating his position.

What made the job worse was the fact that there was nobody to talk to; this wasn't a hostile patrol, so there was no need for a copilot. Some desk-flier in Div8 Command had decided that a single pilot could fly and spray bacteria at the same time.

It was certainly a novel job, though. Spraying rad-eating bacteria across the shining black glass of the Wastes, kilometer by kilometer, to revitalise the dead land. He wondered what the other bacteria, the ones that survived down in the irradiated hell that was the Wastes, would do. Die off, probably. It was silly, but he felt almost sorry for the little unicellular suckers.

Better them than me, though.

Merach had heard the stories told by the few million people who'd survived the Obsidian Event, had seen the pictures of Tsaraine before it became like this; like the steppes of Western Ekatori, but more fertile, wetter. That would be interesting to see.

Division Council Chambers, Deep Tsarai, Tsaraine

"Before we begin, Commandants, you may be interested in the weather report."

The other Division Commandants gave Rene bemused looks. Which way the radiation was blowing was of little importance, after all.

"Yesterday evening, the Setnet reported sightings of rain north of Sargali."

Now they understood, and there were grins around the table. This was the first rain Tsaraine had had north of the Skirré Mountains in four decades; the residual heat radiating from the Wastes had prevented cloud formation. It was an important sign that the slow progress of the radiation-eating bacteria was working.

"On that note, I declare this special meeting of the Division Council open.

"Now, as you're all aware, the NDA Charter requires us to trade with our allies. We don't do enough of that; you all know the policy on trade, as laid down in Sound Governance. You also all know that I consider certain aspects of Sound Governance flawed when applied to this day and age.

"One such aspect is the sumptuary laws relating to clothing. There is, to my mind, very little reason why we should continue to enforce uniform regulations among the non-military Divisions; they are already, after all, rather more loosely enforced then they were in my uncle's day.

"Thus, I'm proposing that we entirely remove those regulations, maybe replace them with a badge or armband of some sort. Diversifying clothing production will take some resources initially, but we could also open those markets to NDA allies.

"TsaHuri, your Division is currently commanding uniform production. Comments?"

Irvali tsaHuri hmmed deep in his throat, considering.

"It's certainly possible, Domina. Whether or not it's advisable ... I'm not sure. Without in-depth analysis I'm not sure how it could hurt."

Rene nodded. "Have that analysis done, then. Any other comments?"