NationStates Jolt Archive

From: Lady High Executive Jenna Timothy, Federal Government of Santa Barbara
CC: Councillor Leyenda of Fyrn, Minister Jose Carrera of Los Bananos El Fuego, Magister Ruthvere of Tarrican, Minister Rakurain Nirstiterel of Nikea, Secretary Athculachk of Thuluckack

Thank you for your timely responses. I must apologize for the lateness of this reply, but we are swamped and under-staffed as of late.

Since losing contact with the "Shell" research facility, our ability to estimate the potential of threat has been limited. The area is quite remote, underground, and because of the remote possibility of threat pertaining to the Damocles regional signatory states and to our own, it has been decided that a small, international force sent physically to explore the site and evaluate the situation there is the most optimal solution.

Ordinarily, we would rely on the PrattCo Conglomerate to handle this matter. As a PCC owned and operated facility, however, "Shell" poses an obstacle to that move; we are dubious as to their ability to solve a situation which they will not address.

Naturally, the Santa Barbaran people do not want swarms of foreign troops on the homeland. We will allow a small amount of security teams to accompany the international force on this mission, and a small security force has been granted from the PCC. Air/space/naval observation and, if deemed absolutely neccesary, fire support has been authorized.

In order to get the best cross-reference of desired skills, knowledge and analytical ability, we especially look forward to having the renowned Dr Galba and Dr Kellinen Isteriuene included, as well as specialists in assorted fields of research which the "Shell" facility was designed to support -- from our database, these fields included xenotechnological research, xenobiology, geology, physics, and military applications research, among others.

The addition of medical and emergency services, on a small scale, might be welcome as well.

I have arranged for free flights to New State City, and from there a mag-lev train to the Goletan Plains, for any personnel you choose to send. The coalition will be meeted and headed by Marcus Vincentio, who will provide all other neccessary information.

Once again, you have the thanks of the Santa Barbaran people for your assistance in this matter.

To Lady High Executive Jenna Timothy, from Councillor Leyenda of Fyrn, greetings:

We are pleased to inform you that Dr Galba and his five colleagues left Fyrn early this morning and should be with you in a matter of hours. We trust that they will give satisfactory service.

Once again, we extend our best wishes in these trying times, and hope that the situation quickly finds an easy solution.

Councillor Leyenda, Fyrn.

To: Lady High Executive Jenna Timothy, Federal Government of Santa Barbara
From: Emma Sarie, Minister for Foreign Affairs
cc: Marcus Davenport, GT Technologies

Please be advised that Dr Tasmin Barton, and her team will be departing shortly. They have been briefed on the information you have already given us, and will endeavour to aid you to the best of their abilities.

TO: Lady High Executive Jenna Timothy
From: Office of the Magister Diplomus.

Appologies for the delay in reply, in fact this might be a little late: I do hope they haven't reached there yet. With the absence on work matters of the Magistra's personal secretary, paperwork hasn't been flowing nearly as fast as it should.

Suffice it to say, that a four-man team will soon be landing New State City. Armin tal Hend and Lusy tor Ansin are professional Spelunkers and subterranean experts, they should guide your team right through any tunnels that might be present. Dr. Petros Cranshaw is there for medical attention and Julian Fairbourne is our man from the Frontier Diplomacy Corps.

All of them have long experience in Vannaheim and other subterranean locations, so they should make a good addition to your team.

Incursion and Investigation Branch, Devils Desert Division, Ministry of Foreign Intervention, DomLBeF
with
HazSit Branch, Research Division, Ministry of Offensive Defence, DomLBeF

A DomLBeF BulkHauler transport aircraft has departed from Almogarda Air Force Base outside Bananos City, heading for New State City, following the transfer of required personnel from our orbital platforms via the Talavera Launch and Recovery facility. Relevant flight plan information has already been transmitted to Santa Barbaran central air traffic control. Relevant equipment has been loaded on board the transport craft, and further progress from New State City can either take place via Santa Barbaran maglev rail or through continued use of the transport aircraft.

Our team has been kept as small as possible as per your request. Dr Alvar Scolono and Dr Elena Dominguez of the Ministry of Offensive Defence's Research Division are specialists in advanced xeno-archeological and xenotech research and investigative desconstruction, with relevant backgrounds in physics and biology accordingly per scientist.

Unfortunatly our experiences of underground operations are limited in DomLBeF, as we have tended instead to reach for the stars. However, it occurs to us that this situation may in several cases require the need for extreme caution with regard to... environmental contaminants... and accordingly we have provided our expertise in that area. A half-squad (five men) of DomLBeF DropTroopers will accompany our scientists to provide sealed-enviroment exploration capacity and personal defence, under the command of the renowed Major Ramierz, who ably assisted in the Austrin-Ontis Presidential Assassination Affair.

On that note we are also taking the opportunity to return to Tarrican a pair of their personnel who for some reason wound up on Victoria Station following that incident. We understand that a Tarricanian team will be assisting, and thus can drop them with them. We understand that the Station Commandant has threatened to walk out of the airlock unsuited unless they are not removed from his jurisdiction as soon as possible, although exactly why he feels this way is not yet apparent. We understand that they are diplomats of some sort.

We trust you will pass on relevant information to any other parties which have agreed to assist in this situation, and likewise request additional data on other teams.

Jose Carrera
Minister for Foreign Intervention

OOC

All parties involved receive the following schematics to get a rough feel for the layout of Shell.

http://www.angelfire.com/ex/a51/images/shell.jpg
Overview and key
http://www.angelfire.com/ex/a51/images/shell2.jpg
Stack/Level Layout

A rough floorplan is also transmitted, which shows each disk-shaped module as having an elevator in the center (except those with no modules above or below), with halls and rooms radiating outward like spokes, intersecting with ring-like halls lettered from center (first is A, then B, C, D etc).

The area Shell is in is a vast, desolate and arid land. There are only six towns within a 100 km radius, and each has a population under 100 thousand, making it the most sparsely populated region in Santa Barbara.

IC post forthcoming.

The earliest to arrive find the weather dreary and bleak, and the air journey rough as the wet season rolls in along the north coast. New State City is vast, with towering pillars of business in asymmetrical rows and great variety, all underneath a thick blanket of gray fog and fumes and coated shiny with recent rain.

All delegates, as they arrive in New State City, are met by polite, but pitifully uninformed representatives of the Federal Government, who offer to answer any questions, put them up (at a lowered rate) in hotels while waiting for the other delegates, and arrange for all manners of transportation and immediate needs.

The chief official in all this is Gary Grumman, an aide to Jenna Timothy. He explains, readily, to any who ask, that the Lady High Executive is attending an important conference and cannot personally meet with the delegates to wish them well, and expresses her hope that the delegates stay is not an unhappy one.

Mr Grumman, a 30-something year old former financial manager, is tall, attractive with a cleanshaven appearance and a well-oiled, charming and ready smile. With him, of course, are usually several other suited agents, whom he doesn't immediately identify but are, fairly obviously at that, there for light security.

Stepping off the plane, Tasmin clutched her hand luggage tightly in her hand, more in an effort to stop herself shaking than there being anything of importance hidden inside. Again she cursed her luck at being put forward for an expedition that involved flying. She looked over at her associate, Guy Renshaw, knowing that the smile he had playing about his lips was for her benefit.

The journey to the hotel passed with the inhabitants of the vehicle trying to get a view of the city, while getting a little information out of the representative assigned to them. His answers useful, but they all knew that they would learn nothing until the official briefing, and then it would probably be on a need to know basis, and sometimes, people of power had a strange idea of what those at the deep end needed to know.

Reaching the hotel, the four members of the party make their way to their rooms, sorting out their luggage and unpacking. Looking over last minute paperwork, Tasmin runs her eyes over the few details that were offered before they left Tartarus, until she finally gave into her exhaustion, and caught a nap while she waited for the other delegates to arrive.

The DomLBeF team arrives in New State City after a long haul flight, tired and weary. They arrange for storage of the bulky green-painted equipment crates they have brought with them, and head to the hotel. The contrast between the team members is striking: six athletic individuals with short cropped hair - two are women - who don't say much, and two people who never stop talking. All of the team walk with an odd gait, as if getting used to walking on a planetary surface again.

Dr Alvar Scolono, the DomLBeF scientist with a biology background, is a gangly indvidual with a shock of brown hair. He hams up the mad scientist role, catering 'to his audience' with a labcoat over a pinstripe suit and a yellow polka-dot bow tie, but anyone who spends more than ten minutes with him realises that it's just an act, including the constant quoting of conspiracy theories and statements such as "this thing... it's... incredible!" or "unless we stop it... the world is doomed!". Accordingly his nickname in the team is "Doctor Quatermass". He never goes anywhere without his personal computer - a custom-built laptop/notepad machine which contains more restricted military technology than most orbital platforms. He's been known to risk life and limb to prevent damage to the gizmo, and he's rumored to talk to it. No-one knows whether he's got a voice-interface installed or he just likes speaking to 'his precious'.

Dr Elena Dominguez, on the other hand, has a background in physics, and approaches her science from a totally different direction. Small and slender, she usually doesn't pay much attention to fashion. Jeans and poloneck sweater do in every situation as far as she is concerned. For Elena, everything is of scientific interest, particularly if it can be used to detonate, dissassemble, deconstruct, or otherwise dismantle something else. Coupled with this is a scatter-brained absent-minded syndrome which has caused her some trouble in the past with regard to misplaced notes and accidental detonations. Accordingly her nickname is "Boom Boom", something she believes came about as a result of a parody of a pole-dance she did as a dare at a long-ago office party, but which everyone else realises is a result of the fact that when Elena is around, the phrase, "blast radius" takes on a whole new meaning.

On a plane, four people sit two by two on the left hand side.
One of them is clearly quite ill.

"Is he all right?" Inquires the stewardess, "Can I get you anything?"
The woman sitting beside him as he stares blankly at the firmly-shuttered window calmly replies "He doesn't look it at the moment, but he'll be fine once we land. Trust me." She looks pretty rocky too.

"What is the problem with Armin, Lucy?" comes the voice from the seats behind "I'm no doctor, but it doesn't look like vertigo to me."
"Its not." says the woman in a accented burr, tight lipped and almost pained.
"Julian," remarks his neighbour (seated behind the woman) "Not only are you not a doctor, you're not from Vannaheim either. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me... I'm here because of my quick wits." aware that the stewardess was still listening in, Dr. Cranshaw expanded his explanation... "Then we're all doomed, Mr. Fairbourne, unless you wake up. Vannaheim is the part of Tarrican that is entirely underground. Vast caves they might be, but some people born there never see an open sky. Two such are Mr. tal Hend and Miss tor Ansin, both of whom are demonstrating extreme agoraphobia... heightened by you keeping your shutter up and remarking upon the amazing view."

"Oh." Julian calculates and idly pulls the shutter down as he prepares a rebuffal. "I can easily see why two of the Walkers are here and my own placement is obvious despite the insults, but I can't see why you are here."
"They asked for Doctors, I am a doctor." "You're a gynacologist, Cranshaw... a ladies problems doctor, not a spec-ops medic."
Dr. Cranshaw was middle-aged, balding, single and cursed by his original choice for a speciality sigh, assumptions... allways the assumptions. "Originally, yes, I am a 'ladies problems' doctor by training. However, since moving to the practice in Sond Harran I have been involved in the treating of more varieties of subteranian injuries than you know the names of. Rockfall injuries, lung problems from gas, burns from firedamp... all of which lay outside the groinal area of a woman, I hasten to add in the face of your wit. No, I may not be a spec-ops doctor... but I am very well trained to deal with the injuries we expect to face."

Sullen, he retreats into silence; a length silence, eventually broken by a droll comment from Lucy "And if I get pregnant on the mission, he'll be right there for me," which sets all three of them laughing. Armin, suffering by the window, smiles and ends the conversation with a decisive remark as he reaches for the bag in front of him (his accent even thicker than Lucy's)... "Pipe down, kid, or you'll miss the sound of me throwing up."

"So remind me again why we didn't hear about this earlier?" The young woman sat back in her seat and frowned. "Other Desert nations were moving quite a while back."

"I know Sarah, but it seems the higher ups were busy with 'S and S', and the paperwork kinda got delayed." The older man glanced out the aircraft window. "What is a combat engineer doing on this trip anyway?"

"Because, Dr. Jefferson, the underground facility maybe damaged, and we may encounter the need to force our way through certain parts as well as assessing the stability of others areas. Anyway I'm suprised the mining guilds let one of their most experienced doctors out of Yerwaht."

"That, my dear, is exactly why I have come. Between you and the personable young Lion operator we should be able to get anywhere within this facility. Why does he keep aioding you so much?"

"Daniel is a civilian rescue Lion operator, while I'm a Sergant in the 3rd Mountain Lion Brigade. He thinks I'll look down my nose at him constantly."

"Will you?"

"Of course not. Plus he's the one with the rescue Lion in the hold, somehow a Mountain Lion wouldn't exactly be suitable in this situation."

"True."

Nickie checked all the suitcases once again, resecured a peeling destination label and looked back at the clock with a sigh. Gus grinned at her and blew a bubble in his gum.

"You know, that's really annoying." she said conversationally.

"Why do you think I do it?" The small dark woman sighed again.

"Where are they? I mean, I know this was a rush call, but they knew what time the plane was due to leave." Gus sat upright and patted her shoulder.

"Stop fussing. You know old Galba always arrives at the last possible moment. Julian and Claudius are probably with him now."

At that moment the sliding doors of the waiting room wooshed gently open and a tall man with distinguished grey hair and a thick moustache swept through, followed by a lean young man with dark eyes. Nickie stood up.

"Where's Claudius?" The young man shrugged.

"Got the flu. His temperature's sky high. We'll have to manage without him. Are we ready to go?" The elder man gave Nickie a grandfatherly look.

"Of course. We have been ready to go for the past hour, am I right? Except, of course, for me. My dear girl, you must have known I would not be too late for this expedition. It will be the crowning glory of my next book." Behind his back, Gus and Julian exchanged wry glances and picked up the bags.

"Come on, Doctor. Let's get this show on the road."

ooc: Umbrella Corp anyone? Raccon city :P Anyways...tag

He shrugged. "Not my problem," he said, letting himself off the hook, which was unneccesary.

"But it is a problem nonetheless. These people can't wait any longer. You know their risk of dying of cancer is going up each day they stay in this city," the director added with a touch of his characteristically dry humor.

"So's mine. You don't see me blaming you for the weather."

"There's no blame, Grumman. But if these people aren't happy, their governments aren't happy."

"Well, they're going to be a lot unhappier down in Goleta. Look, you know the figures. Over eight thousand reports just last week, and growing. No one knows what's causing it, and--"

"That is the purpose of this mission," the director calmly said. "We lack information. Don't quote me figures, this isn't soybean futures. The more time we waste here, the more of those reports will come in. The more time they waste here, the worse it'll be when they come closer. Now's not the time for procastination."

Grumman had known Ed Vance, they went back before the days of the Conglomerate, and had merely gone in different directions. In the end they worked for the same employer-- or did they? It was touch and go now with Bob Pratt dead and the phony Federal Government actually having a shot at being legitimate. No one could be sure of anything, and the media never helped to clarify.

But Ed Vance's job had taken him to Shell and he'd never come back.

Grumman nodded grimly. "You're right, of course."

The director responded with an effort at consolidation. "For heaven's sake, Pete, you're not going to your death."

Of this he was not so sure.

"... now get back there and tell them. We've arranged the transportation, and I want the whole gang at the station, safe and secure, ready to ride down to where the days are hot and the nights are cold. You know if it's not you, there are other government workers."

Government workers. That had actual meaning now-- perhaps it would continue to be that way.

"One of them asked me about a Conglomerate envoy," he put forth.

The director nodded. "They're sending one, beleive it or not. But the letter I got tells me it's nobody important. I suspect it's just an appeasement until, or if, they get their shit together."

Grumman was surprised at the envoy, but merely tacked that down for later reference. Later, when he would be trying to get blood from that stone. "What happens if it's bad?" he finally asked the question that no one had yet dared ask.

The director smiled. "You go see if it's bad. We'll decide actions based on that."

He nodded at the director, who was his friend after all, or as much a friend as a superior could be, and left the smoke-filled office. Closer to the door now, he could hear the patter of rain. It was always raining in New State City.

In the morning, he would face the foreign teams questions again, deflecting the ones he could and absorbing the rest, radiating little knowledge.

He was content, though, in knowing one thing: he wasn't the only one in the dark about what to do if the situation in Shell turned bad. In that case, the government didn't have any real plans to confront the Conglomerate head-on, or contingencies to rescue this operation or it's members.

At least it meant he probably wouldn't have to worry about the weather in New State City.

As the plane neared its destination and many people had changed places... Dr. Cranshaw was helping Armin deal with the effects of profound agorophobia, even as the worried-looking flight attendant was talking to the airport they were approaching, trying to make arrangements to get the passengers disembarked with minimal panoramic view. (OOC SB, any arrangements are up to you.)

Displaced to the rear seat, Lucy tor Ansin is struggling with both her own agorophobia and the unending chatter from her neighbour. "... but thats the FDC for you; we've been in disarray since two of our best operatives were blasted into space. We can't get them back and..."

She can't help interupt at this point "Julian? Do you ever shut up, or is it just me?"
"Ultimately, yes I can shut up but I can run off the mouth whenever I need to. And I was thinking you might want anything, even inane prattle, that might take your attention away from the fact that we're in a hermeticly sealed metal tube..."
"... hurtling through wide open spaces. Yeah, I thought you might be... but I was hoping to catch the in-flight movie at some point."
"You can catch the last 15 minutes before we land, if you want. I ought to warn you, though: the guy dies."
Lucy is taken aback by the time description... "Fifteen minutes to land! Are we really that close, or are you having me on?" "There abouts, I'd say... you can ask the stewardess for an exactity. So either I was mildly interesting or you fell asleep through boredom. Either way, mission accomplished."

"Point, I've wasted most of the trip listening you when I should have been concentrating on reading the background material they sent us."
"Well that proves just how great I am."
"Don't get your hopes up, kid." Shot down in flames, Julian.

The helicopter was a SCI-H450, an old (all choppers were old) troop-carrying bird with heavy controls, blocky appearance, four rotors, and a bay like a metal and webbed cage. It was the fastest, most direct method the Federal Government [OOC: this is all in the past by now, so CoFedCo does't exist yet, Bob Pratt may still be alive, etc] had of getting the teams to the site.

Including any late-comers, Grumman and his men, and the Conglomerate envoy, the chopper's 50-man capacity would easily hold everyone... the ride wouldn't be nearly as comfortable as most would have liked, but that couldn't be helped.

While it sat refueling at the landing pad, twenty blocks north of NSC Int'l Airport, Grumman went about the task of collecting the various scientists and their entourages. An easy task for him; he felt he was born a go-between.

In all cases, his line was the same. 'I hope your stay has been enjoyable. Are you ready to leave for the site? We have a helicopter available. My government believes it would be best to leave and arrive as a group.' He would flash his financial managerial smile, a smile that could mean either 'we're loaded with cash, thanks to me' or 'you're about to go bankrupt, but you like me anyway.'

[OOC: I didn't really have much plans for the stay in NSC. It's actually a not very well defined city for me. So I'm trying to move along to the scene of the crime.]

OOC A description of a briefing room would be a good place to start, then maybe we could jog some of the other persons to life.

*supplies 3.7 miro-slaps to each of his comrades for their lack of reply*

The DomLBeF team is in place, and has its own transport with gear (though they'll certainly use the chopper if requested). I didn't feel the need to post "They get on the chopper" so here's me eagerly awaiting the briefing room, or prefab tent, or description of journey, or whatever. I've been ready to post in this thread for a week.