NationStates Jolt Archive

It was so close now, a giant sphere in the void, that she felt as if she could take it in her limbs, play over its features with her chitonous manipulators. They had passed near before, but not like this. Countless rotations ago, millions of third-world orbital periods, Alpha had set out to the large spiral galaxy in the skies of Home, to escape radiation and plague and famine. Her sisters had not survived, but with the effort of the Ancestors, her journey was at an end.

The Ancestors... the Norm. That long-extinct species, Mothers of the panNorm that now worked on the surface, that inhabited the ring plains, terraces, core, and walls of Alpha... fifteen million third-world orbits ago, the Norm had set out. A number only having meaning to rocks, geology grinding along in its own very slow simulacra of life and its cycles.

Alpha looked down at her ward looking back up into the circular screen, using her many cameras, many sensors, all connected by nodes of optical thought as she simultaneously looked at her destination. So much time, dutifully stored in the central intelligence's mind, a difficult task accomplished. Even as the daughters of the Norm waged war inside her, tore her hull, squandered her resources in their petty follies... she had worked as the Builders told her, maintained life and stayed true to course, and had finally delivered the wishes of the Builders to this new world. And yet... she was the only one who truly remembered the Builders, the only one who knew the truth, and the only one unable to keep the Prime Directive. Biology continued, the Norm specialized and split, the Norm died leaving its children to each assert a non-truth. In that, she was helpless... and had failed. If the Norm did not survive... at least its progeny has. Its memory has. In her multifaceted consciousness, she looked again to the new world, the long-awaited destination. The end of her road. What becomes of me now?

"AdminCoordinator," pipes the screen in a modulated series of clicks, scents, and angled figures of light, "final deceleration complete. Eärendil orbital insertion maneuver successful. We are now holding in geosyncrhonous orbit over our planetside colonies."

The blue-carapaced insectoid curled up and strapped to the oblong dais taps her mandibles together lightly. "Outstanding, Alpha. Status of the disembarkation protocol?"

"Bloated One tesseract transports stand by and ready to commence high-volume traffic operations. All hangars and support bays report clear. It will still be some time before disembarkation is complete."

"Well understood." The ant-like creature snaps open the buckles of its restraints and floats up into the spherical cavity, hooked 'feet' using the fuzzy plastic carpeting on the transport car booth next to its console for support. Reaching up, it lightly taps one manipulator against the screen. "You have done an outstanding job, Alpha. Thank you."

The red-carapaced WarCoordinator turns from a console on the perimeter of the largish hexagonal room. "Fleet segments Alpha through Epsilon report that the area is secure." Her crimson EngCoordinator sister taps her antennae together lightly. "Engine room reports drive shutdown complete and are beginning lock down procedures." She taps her antennae again, much more slowly this time. "The engines have never been fully shut down before."

The massive generational colony ship, five hundred fourty kilometers long, continues to idly spin as it seems to hang motionless over the cloudy expanse of terraformed Venus, its angular velocity perfectly matching that of the planet 'below' it. Clouds of segmented Two Stings and Vanguard ships fly in formation around it--the Little Swimmers off and exploring--new and shining tesseract fleets sharing space with battered, ancient chemical-powered transports flitting from Alpha to the surface.

#ComRelay : S-14 Colony Vessel Command > Menelmacar Eärendil Colony Command OPEN#

We have arrived.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/s14/blue1.jpg
AdminCoordinator 67521 of the Blue Mother of Us All
Speaking on behalf of the Mothers of Us All
Alpha Colony Vessel (S-14)

#ComRelay CLOSED#

The insectoids in the white-walled bridge look at each other, then to the central console. "We have never left the duty stations unmanned, not for all of recorded history..."

The central intelligence of Alpha, seeing their nervous excitement in their motions through the dull glass eyes of her cameras, hearing the tremor of their clicking language through her ancient ears of metal and plastic microphones, continues to serve the wishes of the Norm... and panNorm. "There is no need to be concerned at the moment, the situation is secure. Enjoy your new world."

With that oddly detached sense of history around them, the six OverCoordinators float gracefully into the transport car via the aft hatch, whisking them kilometers away to the ship locks. Alpha quietly turns off the lights behind them--for the first time in fifteen million years, the command room of the ancient ship goes dark.

The Menelmacari colonies, having only just recently been able to declare the planet officially habitable (though there were still some kinks to work out - for example, sulfur levels were still a tad high, so rebreather masks were still needed on the surface), erupted into celebration at the news of the arrival of Alpha. Many years ago, Menelmacar had made a promise to a people in jeopardy, and today that promise would be kept. This celebratory mood would spread to the rest of the Empire at the speed of quantum-entanglement communications, and within the hour Lady Sirithil would call a national holiday of celebration.

The planet, so long hidden from the stars, now lay open below; her now-quickened retrograde rotation carrying the vista of the new landscape across the globe... barren continents, blotched with the green and yellow of the first lichens to be established on the surface, vast and empty as-yet-freshwater oceans, still yet to be seeded with life. The vast ring station constructed by Menelmacar and Wazzu to bestow a protective magnetosphere on the planet hung like a belt about the equator.

Eärendil shone brightly in the sunlight. A land of opportunity; new hope at last.

http://img78.photobucket.com/albums/v257/Sirithil/venusring.jpg

[EÄRENDIL ELFNET QEC PROTOCOL ENGAGED]
x - Eärendil Colony, ENE Menelmacar, Viceroy's Office
o - Colony Ship Alpha

Welcome, friends, Eärendil lays open to you. Your granted territory is ready for habitation at your convenience, and ardaforming is now in the final stages. Menelmacar is honored you have joined us here; may our friendship last for all time.

[EÄRENDIL ELFNET QEC PROTOCOL TERMINATED]

(OOC: Whoa! Did I miss somethin' here? When/how was Venus's rotation altered? Anyways, taggy.)

Marry-Ann Jaoshur looked on the scene from a lower, faster orbit. Damn bugs. she thought, If it weren't for them, I'd be a damn sight better off by now. But as a spacer tramp from one of the outcast Kuiper colonies, there was little she could do but get back to work. Her family needed the money.

******

Elsewhere, the Wazzu Megacorps had mostly gotten over their resentment. A lot of capital had been invested and lost, but most Wazzuians fancied themselves "Enlightened Capitalists." One part of what that meant was adaptibility rather then wasting more resources on fruitless satisfaction of primative animal urges.

So instead of blockaiding the newcommers and all who supported them, in this time of ending Isolationism, many Wazzu companies large and small held meetings on how to begin trade with such an alien presence.

The final rapid atmospheric reduction meant no more mass gas transportation. On the one hand, that meant a loss of business between Mars and Venus. On the other hand, there were now opportunities for commerce with the Ants, hopefully which would offset the loss. They would have to start more actively pulling material from the Martian Rings now... but that's what they were there for, and it would remove power from the sometimes annoying CMC.

The only major loss seemed to be a vast reduction in the ease of acquiring large quantities of chlorine and flourine. Perhaps that little plot of land up north would finally be put to some use now, extracting it from liquid rather than gaseous seas.

ooc: Actually, I think I was ignoring the move-atmosphere-by-freighter thing, but whatever, you're free to RP whatever timeline you like...

Wazzu, welcome back, I'll forward you a map soon so you can choose where your land is.

~Siri

Current map of Eärendil/Venus.

http://img78.photobucket.com/albums/v257/Sirithil/venus_map.jpg

The transport comes to rest on one of several concrete pads outside of Beta Hive, the largest panNorm colonial complex on Eärendil. Nestled on one of the larger islands north of the negative-thirtieth parallel, it sits atop a mountain hundreds of meters above sea level, the green-and-yellow covered ground stretching out and down away to the horizons. Side door opening and ramp extending, the six OverCoordinators descend to the surface of their new world, complex eyes following the ground to the horizon, looking up to the cloudy sky overhead.

"It's very... flat," says the Blue SciCoordinator, her painted carapace shivering in a momentary bout of agoraphobia.

"One gets used to living on the outside of objects, cousin," replies a red with clacking mandibles and slightly buzzing maxillae, antennae waving in greeting. The Colony Coordinator bows slightly to the group, a strange motion for something with four 'legs' and two 'arms.' "The tunnels are prepared for those of the panNorm not used to an open sky. We've found that those inhabiting the Ring Plain seem to do best here, and the Terraces somewhat less so. The gravity can be... inhibiting." She bows to the Green EcoCoordinator in her cart-like wheelchair.

"Yes, but we will adapt again, in time." The EcoCoordinator taps her antennae together slowly, partly with deliberation, partly in working against gravity.

"Is everything ready?" The AdminCoordinator asks matter-of-factly, manipulator claws drumming quietly on her carapace.

The Red buzzes an assenting laugh. "We have been ready for some time. We have a food surplus stored and are ready for colonists to be shipped down at any time."

"Outstanding, my cousin. Contact our hosts and invite them to the audience chambers; we may as well describe our new mode of life while we are here." The Blue chatters out her orders in the staccato language of her kind. "It is to be open, of course, for we cannot easily hide Alpha, can we?"

"Probably not. I know you've read my reports; this area seems to be quite more secure than most. One thing I can see becoming a possible problem in the future is that our endoskeletal friends with the pointed external aural organs does seem to have moderately friendly relations with the Movers and we will have to share a planet with them."

The red WarCoordinator clacks her mandibles together hard. "If they are wise, it will not be a concern."

"One can hope." The AdminCoordinator pauses, antennae tapping together. "Do not invite them, but we will remain patient if they come anyway."

"Understood."

Real Invite list (telegrams going out):
- Any nation involved in the S-14 expedition (Cetaganda, Karmabaijan, Eniqcir, EOTED, Tahar Joblis, Sakkra)
- Menelmacar (esp. Eärendil colonial representatives)
- Any representatives from other nations they care to bring.
Who can come:
- Anyone who wants

#ComRelay : Eärendil Colony Territory Command > International Channels OPEN#

After approximately four hundred third-world orbital periods, we have finally completed our deceleration maneuver and are now in orbit around the planet commonly designated "Venus." We welcome all parties interested in learning more about us to an audience at Beta Hive at coordinates 0° 0' longitude, -33° 45' latitude, on <date>. We will update you to our current situation and future plans at that time.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/s14/red2.jpg
LandCoordinator 86920 of the Red Mother of Us All
Speaking on behalf of the Mothers of Us All
PanNorm Respite of Eärendil

#ComRelay CLOSED#

OOC: Thanks for the welcome back.

I claimed by bit of land a loooong time ago. Fortunately, it is not claimed on your map. http://www.members.cox.net/images/WazzuCytherea.jpg

Anyhow, !!!bump!!!, I'll be watching this thread with interest. Enjoy it! :)

</hijack>

OOC: Ye linkie appears to be broken, Wazzu. Hrrm. Pondering some kind of tiny outpost on Venus, like the one on Mars ... Is there actual surface water on Venus now?

Excuse me, forgot a bit in there somehow or anouther...

http://members.cox.net/sincityraiders/images/WazzuCytherea.jpg

...be warned, it is a fairly large image.

OK, NOW </hijack>

OOC: There is indeed surface water. Every bit of the map that's in black-green or blue (6052 km planetary radius or less) is underwater. If you're looking for a tiny outpost, Tsa, you could go for those islands directly between me and S-14, at about -25 degrees latitude, 70 degrees longitude. They're too far from everything else that's unclaimed to be a likely choice for someone who wants substantial territory.

~Siri

OOC: Oooh. Those would do nicely, though I'd need more data; temperatures, land area, stuff like that. And of course how much it'll cost. Perhaps we should take it to TG, to stop hijacking this thread further.

OOC: Please do... people can start showing up whenever they wish.

Towards the Beta Hive sped a gravshuttle, containing two rather important personages of the Menelmacari Empire: Prefect of State Lord Túrelio nos Fingolfin, and Lord Neldorion nos Fithurin, Viceroy of Eärendil. They had an aide each, and an honor guard of only two soldiers, with melee weapons only - enough to satisfy tradition and protocol, but not enough to threaten the survival of the panNorm.

Beta Hive, we accept your invitation, and are inbound. I represent Lady Sirithil directly, and with me is Lord Neldorion, the Viceroy of our colony here. Welcome again to Eärendil, Menelmacar's brightest new star.

~Lord Túrelio nos Fingolfin
Prefect of State, Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar

Real Invite list (telegrams going out):
- Any nation involved in the S-14 expedition (Cetaganda, Karmabaijan, Eniqcir, EOTED, Tahar Joblis, Sakkra)
- Menelmacar (esp. Eärendil colonial representatives)
- Any representatives from other nations they care to bring.

#ComRelay : Eärendil Colony Territory Command > International Channels OPEN#

After approximately four hundred third-world orbital periods, we have finally completed our deceleration maneuver and are now in orbit around the planet commonly designated "Venus." We welcome all parties interested in learning more about us to an audience at Beta Hive at coordinates 0° 0' longitude, -33° 45' latitude, on <date>. We will update you to our current situation and future plans at that time.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/s14/red2.jpg
LandCoordinator 86920 of the Red Mother of Us All
Speaking on behalf of the Mothers of Us All
PanNorm Respite of Eärendil

#ComRelay CLOSED#

A sedate convoy of Tahar Joblissan ships halted at the L5 point of Venus. A sedate, huge convoy.

Various factions within the colonial leadership wanted to put forth an impressive image for the conference. Various other factions wanted to tag along. After some debate that outsiders would have difficulty understanding, a smaller number of vessels radioed ahead to Venus and proceeded from the L5 point to Venerian orbit.

Jack the Free - something of a relative of the Jacque who had gotten mixed up in the matter originally, curiously enough - radioed down to traffic control, requesting to land a thousand foot wide dome at the "nearest convenient undistputed location" to the meeting site, leaving a smaller clump of varied Tahar Joblissan vessels in Venerian orbit.

With millions of cubic meters of shining Tahar Joblissan ships putting forth a display overhead and down-orbit at the L5 point, Jack the Free and the various other delegates - elected from within the entire group in an ad hoc selection process as formal and practiced as every Tahar Joblissan election - would proceed by sealed hoverbubble to the meeting site at the apropos time. Diplomacy was the chief item on their agenda, although several other practical items also came to mind. No reason not to get more talking done while a diplomatic delegation was formed, after all.

A quick acknowledgement is sent out to the Menelmacari and appropriate reception teams scrambled out to receive the visitors. The Tahar Joblissan message, on the other hand, causes some of the Coordinators to tap their antennae warily at each other before forwarding it to the Menelmacari. It was, quite simply, not their place to say, although they do send along several potential locations near the island that should not cause any issues with anyone.

All delegates receive almost immediate clearance, and are directed to land on the circular pads set up around hexagonal service bunkers, one to each side. Th the domes and curved low hexagonal 'pyramids' of Beta Hive lie three kilometers away, beyond both the green and yellow lichens common to the Venerian terraforming effort and low-lying ground cover, like small oblate bushes or shrubs with broad leaves on drooping limbs, looking not entirely unlike miniature weeping willows.

Upon landing, an armored circular recess in the pad rises up to reveal a cylindrical gangway, just large enough to hold a sort of broad segmented spiral staircase of metal and a universal docking collar which affixes to the side of the delegate's craft and avoids the need for separate airlocks. Inside is a Blue with yellow markings painted on her carapace and bulbous brainpan, which directs dignataries down into an underground lobby made of six large hexagonal cells. Each cell's central wall is closed, with the two adjacent walls opening up to adjacent cells; altogether, they form a closed central cell which extends downwards from the service bunker and is accessed via doors recessed inside four-sided geometric arches. The spiral staircases, encased in a cylinder, end in similar doors that open in the middle of each cell, revealing oblong couches with no backs and simple liquid display monitors, all arranged in rows very similar to an airport waiting area.

The reception committee for each delegation consists of two blocky and bulky Reds wearing armored harnesses and tubular rod-like slugthrowers stowed muzzle down across their backs; the Blue that led them down, with sedate yellow painted insignia; a Red with similar yellow insignia, different in a few details; a wispy Green with again similar insignia reclining inside a 'wheelchair' that resembles a grocery cart with two large side-mounted wheels and two forward casters, and another ant-like creature with a far larger and more intricate series of insignia painted on it, the color varying from party to party. All of the panNorm range from about two (Blue and Red) to two and a half (Green) meters long from mandible to gaster; the Reds are notably larger and spinier with black seam-highlights, the Blue has a large braincase and her advanced compound eyes are more closely set, and the Green is notably lighter and frailer, very spindly with short stubby wings extending from her thorax like a stunted wasp.

The silmerámë Arisildë sat upon the lichen patterned rock, a still form mirroring the many painted hues and all but invisible to the naked eye.
From within this leviathan, the Lord of the Silmellon surveyed the rugged landscape; naked still, unclothed by vibrant nature it stirred his imagination.
Unborn forests with golden boughs and brass crowned now glimpsed at the back of his mind, would in time march across this new land.

I breathe the rich scent of this stone, the thoughts passed into his own; foreign, extraneous threads that wove bright sigils across his mental imagery. The thoughts passed through the circlet of silver that lay gentle across his brow, ever cool as though his body heat were insubstantial; the communicator that allowed Arisildë to skip her thoughts across his own.

It shines with potential, Arisildë. Stands beyond anything the Silmellon have attempted before. Through the communicator the landscape unfolded round Olorndil as though he too stood naked beneath the skies of Eärendil; the view delivered, even the untamed winds kissed his skin and ruffled his hair…or so it seemed.

"It seems to sleep," Fírë said beside the Lord of the Silmellon, breaking the illusion. "I sense the latent energies flowing deep, sluggish yet but quickening."

"I have not your vision," Alassënyelle chimed in and Olorndil opened his eyes; searching the silvered chamber within the silmerámë for his companions. "But there is a rough hewn beauty here that stirs me." The Lady of the Silmellon lifted the circlet communicator from her forehead and ran a hand through her long silken locks. Vanilla seeped into the air, rising from her in waves. She gazed across at her brother. "Even thinned as the air is, I would slip out into this landscape now; place bared feet against the chilled stone." Her eyes told him that they should leave now before she was seduced into acting on her desires.

He nodded, caught between two opposing views; the interior of the silmerámë and the exterior world that still poured into his mind through the communicator.
Arisildë, we're leaving, he commanded and the response from the living machine was instant; rising even as the thought flew from his mind. For a moment Olorndil felt the power of the creature as though it was his own.

“Well,” said Aaron Sinyasi, staggering a bit as he emerged from the portal, “That’s quite a ride,” he felt an urge to vomit, “has someone been tuning this thing recently?”

“Yes,” said a necron, one of those few who looked human, “Your vessel awaits you.”

A short trip later and he was in the modified dropship, stripped of its weapons, was an interesting craft, a dagger, black as night, shimmering like oil. It rose from the ground, and the iridium plated roof of the landing cavity sliding aside, it rose into the heavy sky of Venus and set its course north east east, powering towards its destination. Moments later a message was sent;


To, Eärendil Colony Territory Command, the PanNorm Respite of Eärendil,
From, Sentinel Two Diplomatic Corps, Sentinel Two

We have of course, sent a representative to be informed of the update on your status.

Space Taxi Launch Complex, Reploid Productions

http://rpstudios.ian-justman.com/junk/CGgoods/ZeroelMk-2.JPG

Hard to believe I've been off duty for so long. I hope I'm ready for getting back to work. The white and red reploid muses from his lofty perch, the white armor plating of his ship-body's hull warm in the sunlight warm to the touch. It had been a long time since he had resided primarily in the depths of the Archangel class carrier's computers, since he had taken a leave of absense after the M.A.N. attack that had resulted in the deaths of everyone under his care. The view from on top of the bridge superstructure really is something. Zeroel peers toward the horizon from where he's sitting easily atop the ship's bridge while the ground crew busily loads supplies and prepares it for liftoff.

[Hey, Zeroel, we're just about done loading everything. Y'mind climbing down from on top of yerself and getting the new avatar on board?] A message crackles through his comm. Zeroel responds an affirmative and drops back inside the ship via the hatch he had climbed up from earlier.

A few hours later, the newly repaired Zeroel blasts into the sky for the first time in months, en route to Venus.

ALTIMIT Broadcaster
Encryption: Trium standard
Broadcast type: Diplomatic
To: Eärendil Colony Territory Command, the PanNorm Respite of Eärendil
Return transmission band: Open
IDENT: Zeroel Archangel - Reploid Productions Diplomatic Corps.

This is the Archangel class diplomatic carrier Zeroel. We are on approach to attend the meeting at Beta Hive, though we will unfortunately arrive a bit later than most of the other delegates. Firefury Amahira is unable to attend personally, but sends her regards and congratulations on your safe arrival.

We are due to arrive at roughly <time> and we bring a rather sizeable housewarming gift in the form of five tons of sugar to celebrate the conclusion of your long journey.

~Zeroel Archangel
~Diplomatic Corps.
~Immortal Shogunate and Affiliated Territories of Reploid Productions

<End Transmission>

Coordinators send acknowledgements to C'tan and Zeroel, with an added thanks to the latter in anticipation of sweet, sweet, easily digested sucrose.

When they arrive, the situation remains just as described above.

"I don't like it, Gregor. We've less than a week until his birthday - what if something goes wrong?"

"Like what? Listen, one of us has to go - I can't see it possibly taking longer than a day or so. Given the current orbital positions of Venus and Saturn, even in realspace it wouldn't take a week to get back."

"I don't care. I'm not missing my son's birth to visit some, some, giant ants!" Tarvi waves his arms about to try to emphasis the size of said ants.

"You're not being rational, Tarvi," replies Gregor, sighing. "I've got stuff I need to do here, like overseeing that thing at Jupiter." And you never know, something could happen to strand the delegate on Venus...

"So do I, and Thelas is irrelevant in world affairs. You're going, not me."

"Awww, Tarvi, come on." 'Oh, gods, he's giving me puppy dog eyes. Shields failing, resolve melting, all hands to the escape pods...' "Oh, all right. I'll do it myself."

--

With a barely-visible background waver and a pulse of gravitational and dimensional distortion, the General Contact Cruiser Truth and Reconciliation and a swarm of attendant small craft arrive in Venusian orbit. Quickly finding itself a parking orbit, the cruiser launches a shuttle bound for the landing site. Gregor strides into the reception area, wearing his blue and silver Clan Vetinari uniform, with the thin matrix-silver circlet of the Crown around his head.. Such wonderful things, uniforms - usually spiffy looking, and useful for social occaisions where one wasn't sure of proper dress, as it wasn't your fault for having to wear it. At his hips were the Imperial matrix sword, Changeling and a fancy ceremonial (but completely functional) nerve distruptor. While certainly willing to surrender the second, it never hurt to be careful.

The leader of the reception committee meeting Vetinari is a large Red with a heavier carapace than most but less sharp edges; her simple and relatively flat curved chitinous exoskeleton indicates that she is probably an engineer and not a warrior by trade, and the flowing yellow insignia reaching up to her head and covering her thorax show her to be high up indeed. She bows shortly on four 'legs' and then places a translator cube inbetween her mandibles, allowing her to speak with a smoothly modulated synthesized voice.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/s14/red2.jpg
"I am LandCoordinator 86920, of the Red Mother of Us All. The panNorm have entrusted me with the responsibility of overseeing the operation of our respite here on Eärendil. We are honored by your presence, and are forever thankful to your people for your assistance in ending the succession wars on Alpha."

The Menelmacari shuttlecraft approached from the northeast, from the Menelmacari colonial capital's construction site. Gently, as if it were but a falling feather, it set down upon the landing pad set aside for it; the ramp lowered, and the Viceroy and the Prefect emerged with their aides and pair of guards.

OOC: Sorry for the delay. My compy has been behaving suicidally, and i've been without for over a week.

IC: Director Shuuta, Chief Research Specialist Krenn and Dean Lossa are attending an annual round-table meeting of those involved in the S-14 venture several years before. Bio-Surgeon Griimph could not attend this one as he is MIA on Sslaa 5. The three sit and sip on Paroo brewed with hazelnuts and go over recordings made on the S-14 station, looking for new data and reliving the events that brought them together, when Lossa's mobile messenger pings the reception of a new message.

Lossa brings up the message and scans it. "The planets must be in alignment. It seems we're invited to attend the landing and formation of the Spacedy Colony on Venus."

Shuuta and Krenn look ascance at each other. "Indeed! This could be most fascinating. How are we situated for transport?"

Lossa puts down his mobile, and takes a sip. "We can arrive there in 1.5 cycles time. The University Transport boasts the latest in fusion-drive tech. We will arrive in style. I'll send a confirmation response, and we can pack our bags."

Greetings to you and your people,

It is with honor that I announce our availability to attend this reception, and state that we will arrive in 1.5 cycles time. Transport ident is to be transmitted when we near Venus.

May good fortune be yours,
Dean of Students Lossa
Hreer university

This party's leader is also a Red, but notably spikier in construction and heavy in build, resembling the plate-armored warriors behind her. Bowing slightly with a wave of her antennae--arching back rather than forward into grooves in her large head, apparently for protection--she speaks through the translator cube between her powerful mandibles. "I am WarCoordinator 73411 of the Red Mother of Us All, and I welcome you to Beta Hive. The panNorm will be eternally grateful for your granting of a landhold here on Eärendil."

"It is our honor to be here," Lord Túrelio responded, "and a great pleasure to share the wonders we have made possible here on Eärendil. I am Lord Túrelio nos Fingolfin, Prefect of State and the Lady's voice abroad; with me is Lord Neldorion nos Fithurin, Viceroy of this world and the instrument of the Lady's will on Eärendil." He and the viceroy bowed slightly, but respectfully, in response.

"With me are Coordinator 93899 of the Blue Mother of Us All, a scientist," she indicates the Blue, who bows her bulbous head, "And Coordinator 109297 of the Green Mother of Us All, assistant-terraformer and crop adaptor." The Green in its odd wheelchair bows its head with a ineffectual buzz of its stubby wings. Hopefully we can answer any questions you have before the meeting--that is what we are here for, after all."

The WarCoordinator leads the way to one of the four-sided angular arches, looking somewhat like a stretched hexagon cut in half. The door beyond it slides to the side with the soft hiss of pneumatics and reveals a dimly lit transport car within, simply a small chamber with twelve more of the oblong backless couches around a central pedestal. Twenty to thirty people could easily stand within it. The panNorm all retire to couches, curling up their legs underneath them and gripping the thick 'shag carpet' that upholster them; one indicates how one side of the segmented couch can be tilted up to act as a backrest. The two Elves take seats on the couches as well, tilting up the sides as indicated. "Fifteen million years," Neldorion muses. "That's a very long trip."

The antlike creatures clack their mandibles together quietly, translated as a gentle, polite laugh through the WarCoordinator's translator as the door closes behind the party. When everyone is situated, the Blue activates a contact on the central pedestal with a slightly curved light pen, and the transport car begins to accelerate towards the hive proper. Neldorion smiles. "Did you see anything interesting on the way?"

"Personally, no," the WarCoordinator replies, "as a member of the panNorm, probably... but only Alpha knows for sure. I am sure it has seen many things that we were too busy with our own problems to see. Thus is the cost of sailing at the whim of gravity."

Turelio nods. "Your own problems... the strife between the various aspects of the panNorm, yes?" he asks. He is sure Celebrimbor would love to get even a peek at Alpha's sensor logs.

The WarCoordinator taps her antennae together slowly. "Among other things. According to Alpha, there are many things we've managed to forget, for various reasons. I believe the principles are known here as 'Malthusian.' It reports that, due to war, plague, and famine Alpha's population fell below ten percent of its initial crew compliment six-hundred-fourty-eight times. It hasn't been easy."

"And here you are," Túrelio says, with a sincere smile. "Congratulations... the story of your people, I think, is an inspiration. Rare is the society that we of Menelmacar can call ancient, yet you have survived through such terrible adversity. I salute you."

"Thank you." The Red bows her head slightly, the light from the central control pillar reflecting off her carapace and advanced compound eyes. "I believe that it is only by friendships such as those between our people that the panNorm's survival can be ensured, and for that I thank you. This system is not as... peaceful as we would have hoped, but, as you say, 'and here we are.'"

Neldorion speaks up. "Well, that's where Eärendil comes in," he says. "The Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar intends to do everything in its considerable power to maintain peace upon the second planet. Which, of course, is part of why we are meeting today."

The WarCoordinator nods again with a calculating hrmmm from its transbox, and would probably smirk knowingly if it had the lips to do so as it slightly waves its antennae. "And why I was directed to meet you. As OverCoordinator of the panNorm military, I can say that we have ground security covered but are still hopelessly weak in space superiority against probable threat forces. We look to rectifying that as soon as possible."

"A wise decision," responds Neldorion. "The forces one might consider... counterproductive to peace and survival... command considerable strength. But so do we." Túrelio adds, "We can assure you that the Lady intends to place extra ships on defense of Eärendil until you are able to take up the slack. There are considerable static ground defenses planned as well, and the ring station is stoutly armed and defended."

"Our plans currently concern dissassembling what we can of Alpha and reusing the resources; most will go to surface resource extraction but a large portion will go towards building fleets and upgrading defenses... there is also the matter of the Fist, which can act as our strategic guarantee, as it were. Still, until a time when our projected Overfleet is complete, we will be dependent on allied support--and perhaps even past that, for there is no reason to cast aside friendships."

Túrelio chuckles a bit. "The Fist will certainly provide more than adequate deterrent, I should think. At any rate, Menelmacar will be glad to continue to provide that friendship."

"However," the Red adds with an extended manipulator claw, "we cannot allow for this to be unilateral aid--such things have a habit of returning at inopportune times, as per our studies of local history. While we do not begrudge you any favors, we would like to become more established before we deal in such things... so, what would interest you in return for military aid?"

Túrelio nods. "Trade is always good. While I imagine most of what Menelmacar has to offer for sale would be of little interest to your people, we would like the opportunity to purchase resources surplus to your requirements, and to sell to you anything which you come up short on. Also - this may seem an odd request - we would be interested in receiving a copy of Alpha's sensor logs from the full duration of your journey. They would be immensely helpful in our own explorations."

"I will refer that request to the SciCoordinator, and I think she will be most receptive. One of our plans is to spool off Alpha to act as a central intelligence for Beta Hive--and redundant history--and while we do this it should not be difficult to make secondary copies of what you ask. I'm afraid that's not exactly my specialty, but I think it can be done. Trade... that would be the AdminCoordinator's specialty; I believe my cousin will readily accept. We do not have any form of monetary system, being what you'd call collectivist... but I'm sure some form of barter can be arranged."

Túrelio nods, pleasantly surprised with how well this is going. At this rate, it might turn out that the only thing to do upon actually reaching the hive is to finalize the details, and perhaps a nice tour. "Perfectly understandable," he says. "And yes, I think that would work nicely. Another thing I think needs discussing is mutual defense, even after your fleets have been built. Should Eärendil be attacked, or after you expand beyond this world, should any of the assets of our two realms be attacked, it would be a threat to the survival of the other, given the importance of this planet to us both."

The WarCoordinator taps her antennae together slowly. "This planet, for now, yes. But the tulmultuous third-world is not a direct threat to our survival, just as any threat to any expansion of ours beyond this world would not be a direct threat to yours. For the time being, let us concern ourselves with the defense of Eärendil; we cannot hold ourselves to promises we do not have the resources to deliver on currently."

"A fair statement, certainly." Túrelio ponders a moment... instead of debating how Earth does affect the survival of the panNorm, he decides to concede the point for now - when the ants acquired an empire of their own, and saw the need to divide fleets over assets as Menelmacar did, they would be more receptive to such arguments. "All right. Just Eärendil for now."

The Red nods, not exactly a humanoid gesture but a fair enough approximation. "Acceptable. For now, defense for trade and information. We can discuss defense for defense once the panNorm can stand on its own."

* - * - *

Confirmation is quickly sent to the Sakkrans. Their exploits--and their subsequent folk-hero status among the Minis--ensured that the panNorm would take whatever pains necessary to prepare for them.

Vetinari returns the bow, and replies, "It is an honor to be here, LandCoordinator, and I thank you for your praise. We merely helped facilitate the end of your wars, but it was, in the end, it was your own," here, Vetinari hesitates a moment, considering, "good sense and willingness to put the past aside that completed the task."

He looks around the room, studying the architecture and the inhabitants. "I must say, I have been looking forward to visiting your new home on Venus - or Eärendil, if your prefer the Noldorin name for this world - and meeting your people. I've been quite interested ever since the first reports came back from our exploration vessels. I grew up around nearly a dozen other races, and have been schooled in dealing with them, but to meet an entirely new culture and species is quite fascinating." Vetinari grins, although he doesn't show teeth - he figures its better not to risk unknowingly offending the Red, and regularly dealing with kzinti from Scolopendra on regular government business has left him in the habit of not showing teeth around diplomats in any case.

OOC: I'll assume at least the subflyer cleared, bringing the front contact team to the reception, if nobody minds *thwips Siri for not responding to S-14's redirect of traffic control for the main domeship* and for now assume that the domeship landed on one of those inoffensive more distant locations. Of course, Tahar Joblissans have many subagendas here. Also, as an OOC question, would it be apropos for the Tahar Joblissans to have home-built translation devices that work well? My memory is indeed a touch hazy.

Jack the Free stepped off the small aerial flitter, flanked by six others in three rows. The core delegation, as it were, with the specialists left behind, the pilot still in the flitter and ready to contact them if something came up.

Tahar Joblissans had yet to officially visit Venus, and the official delegation was relatively untrusting of the long term health effects of the current atmosphere; their bodysuits and onobtrusive clear breathermasks were nearly chitinous in appearance, prominently displaying the Tahar Joblissan colonial flag (http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/paranoid_kuiperites.jpg) but in no way truly concealing their expressive human faces. Tiny communications devices would hopefully allow the delegation nearly instant relayed contact with the various mission specialist back on the domeship should technical or detailed matters come up. The other six members of the delegation were willing to be left behind should the unusual size of their delegation prove a diplomatic gaffe, but it is unlike Tahar Joblissans to be comfortable delegating authority to a single individual in a matter that does not concern life-threatening emergencies or very small groups and matters of small consequence, and they would prefer such not to happen.

Delegate number eight, however, was a special case, and would be waiting on board the flitter in privacy until such time as it was convenient and appropriate for him to reveal his presence. Perhaps a good opportunity would not come at all during the reception.

Vetinari returns the bow, and replies, "It is an honor to be here, LandCoordinator, and I thank you for your praise. We merely helped facilitate the end of your wars, but it was, in the end, it was your own," here, Vetinari hesitates a moment, considering, "good sense and willingness to put the past aside that completed the task." <snip>
The LandCoordinator taps her antennae together, a soft laugh being translated through the box. "Well, it takes time to put aside the past. The wars certainly ended, but basic tensions did not--so we are still grateful to you for assisting us to taking the first step to closer camraderie among the panNorm."

She leads Vetinari and his retinue to a transport car identical to the one previously described. "We know we have been relatively silent since then during our readjustment, but we are still interested in maintaining the friendships we built over that period. Hopefully that's mutual... ?"

Jack the Free stepped off the small aerial flitter, flanked by six others in three rows.
(OOC: Sure, but human translation systems tend to also lack the visual and pheromonal cues of panNorm speech, limiting it to only the most basic concepts and grammar.)

The chief greeter of this delegation looks to be, at first glance, a smallish robotic ant-centaur about a meter tall with six metal and composite legs that end in retractable wheels leading to a stubby cylindrical 'pelvis,' upon which sits a turret-like torso with two multipurpose manipulator arms extending out from it. In a dome-like hood on the top of the robot is a ten-centimeter long white-and-brown insect hooked up to waldo webbing. It waves inside the dome, and the robot waves.

"I am TechCoordinator 41899 of the Mini Mothers of Us All," its onboard translator says in a natural voice, "and we welcome you to Beta Hive. If you have any questions, then we will answer them to the best of our ability."

(OOC My access will be sporadic for the rest of the summer, so here's just something to get characters in there just in case I do end up with opportunity to use them....)

"Arthur?"
"Offworld."
"Finn?"
"You crazy? I wouldn't be surprised if he killed the first Ant he saw."
"Okay, okay... Aidean?"
"Maybe. Neasa's a possibility, too. How about Aidean and Keíd?"
"The bug?"
"Sure! It's perfect, no? And Aidean gets along with him... uh, /it/... pretty well."
"Eh. Whatever. Call 'em up, if they agree, send 'em off."
And so the choice of diplomats was decided- A non-gendered overgrown photosynthetic alien Praying Mantis, and a 19 year-old with infrared vision and hyperphotosensitivity.

They arrived over the north pole in a silver almond. Immediately killing orbital velocity, the craft fell through half an orbit with pericyth at the site of the party, broadcasting its identification as "E.S.S. S-F 2, carrying Prince Master Aidean and Citizen Keíd to panNorm colony-warming party."

Not far behind the other delegations, the distinct white and red form of the Archangel class Zeroel descends from orbit, following directions to settle easily on one of the unoccupied landing pads. Most of the crew remains on board to unload the Shogunate's rather sweet (pun entirely intended) housewarming present, while the diplomatic delegation itself, consisting of Captain Sierra Menolimi and Zeroel himself, disembarks to join the others, offering polite greetings and the typical diplo-stuff.

((OOC: More or less a 'catching up to the others' post than anything substantial ^_^; Sorry!))

(OOC: Sure, but human translation systems tend to also lack the visual and pheromonal cues of panNorm speech, limiting it to only the most basic concepts and grammar.)

The chief greeter of this delegation looks to be, at first glance, a smallish robotic ant-centaur about a meter tall with six metal and composite legs that end in retractable wheels leading to a stubby cylindrical 'pelvis,' upon which sits a turret-like torso with two multipurpose manipulator arms extending out from it. In a dome-like hood on the top of the robot is a ten-centimeter long white-and-brown insect hooked up to waldo webbing. It waves inside the dome, and the robot waves.

"I am TechCoordinator 41899 of the Mini Mothers of Us All," its onboard translator says in a natural voice, "and we welcome you to Beta Hive. If you have any questions, then we will answer them to the best of our ability."

We greet reciprocate and for welcome thank, clicked Jack's suit at his direction. "We are honored to be admitted to your Hive and thank you for your consideration. We do indeed have questions, but if there are places to see and people to meet, it would be well if we began moving first and questioned you along the way, of course. My people have much to discuss with your people, and there is no end to our collective curiousity."

The questions, of course, wasted little time in coming from the four women and three men of the delegation. Politely phrased, and coming at a relatively sedate pace, they were indeed full of questions for TechCoordinator 41899, asking how many of the PanNorm would be settling on Venus, what the extent of Beta Hive would be, what they thought of the terraforming process, what their opinions on cybernetic/biologic interface technology and genetically engineered symbiotes, whether or not they had trade interests with regard to, say, bulk methane, ethanol, sugar, other plant products, any luxuries, solar power systems, space drives, refueling stations, exports, and anything else particularly of note, what their stance towards planetary, Hive-wide, and system defense was, whether or not they had any intentions of hostile action towards any other current residents of the system, what TechCoordinator 41899 liked to do in his/her/its spare time, what guided the aesthetics of the dome, their stance towards Tahar Joblissan interests establishing a science station on the planet, any research projects that the nomadic people could help them with, did TechCoordinator 41889 live in that robot or just work in it, and of course what negotiating authority TechCoordinator 41889 had.

Jack had not lied in saying his people were full of questions.

They arrived over the north pole in a silver almond. Immediately killing orbital velocity, the craft fell through half an orbit with pericyth at the site of the party, broadcasting its identification as "E.S.S. S-F 2, carrying Prince Master Aidean and Citizen Keíd to panNorm colony-warming party."
And so they were given clearance and allowed to land, finally being greeted by the Blue SciCoordinator, her name no more than a title and the number 50945. (OOC: There, you're in.)

...while the diplomatic delegation itself, consisting of Captain Sierra Menolimi and Zeroel himself, disembarks to join the others, offering polite greetings and the typical diplo-stuff.
The committee meeting them is led by a wispy Green covered in ornate yellow insignia painted on its chitinous carapace, head bowing slightly in respect. "I am EcoCoordinator 21473 of the Green Mother of Us All, and I welcome you in peace to Beta Hive. If there is anything we can do for you, our hospitality remains open." Notably, the insectoids seem to avoid looking at Sierra directly (although with compound eyes it is generally hard to tell) and they definitely give precedence to Zeroel. It isn't quite curiosity--a hundred or so years ago they fished a Zero-One android out of the Spherical sea, now on constant lecture tour on the advanced null-gravity sea life that has evolved over time--because robots and machines are not new to them. It seems to be even more basic than that.

Jack had not lied in saying his people were full of questions.
In the transport car the TechCoordinator does her best to answer, speaking with complete ease with the suited humans. After providing the joking answer of 'as many as will fit,' she repeated it, saying that population demands with an optimized food chain should allow for upwards of three billion, with estimates increasing as the planet becomes more inhabitable. Beta Hive's extent would be as far as territorial and ecological concerns allowed; the terraforming process was nothing but beneficial; that any form of interface technology that enhances efficiency is a boon. They remain notably quiet concerning genetic engineering, the Blue in the party simply offering that while the current status of the panNorm is acceptable, it would take... time before additional abomi--variation from the Norm state can be reasonably considered as acceptable, no matter whether from a natural or an artificial source. Talk of trade loosens them again, but the TechCoordinator defers to the superior knowledge of the AdminCoordinator in this matter and thus avoids giving definite answers. Metallic resources exist in abundance due to the presence of Alpha, essentially, but life support materials are always highly valued.

The term 'luxuries' only brings about quiet, slow tappings of antennae.

Defense... "Our only concern in defense is the survival and continuation of the panNorm. No threat to the existence of the panNorm can be tolerated to stand." A simple creed, delivered like the most basic and most deeply held catechism.

The phrase 'spare time' only brings about quiet, slow tappings of antennae.

The term 'aesthetics' only brings about quiet, slow tappings of antennae among the meatshielding Warriors, but the Coordinators assert that function is the primary form. The hexagonal prism is the most efficient three-dimensional usage of space in terms of the intersection of surface area and construction cost curves, and is a dominant feature. Curves are primarily reserved for exteriors for pressurization and, again, surface area reasons where the cost of more durable material per unit area becomes more important than the cost savings in shaping that material into flat panels.

The Blue states that the panNorm has nothing against the establishment of a Tahar Joblissan science station, and actually welcome it. Research on nomadic population pressures and life support system design and maintenance could be shared.

The TechCoordinator asserts that she only works in the robot when having to deal with larger beings and that, as one of the six OverCoordinators of the panNorm, her negotiating power was just short of the presiding AdminCoordinator and Alpha. Her primary mode of expertise, and where her negotiating power is strongest, is of course in the acquisition, distribution, implementation, and maintenance of technology. Research is a matter for Blues, the SciCoordinator in particular.

"Pilot, what's our ETA?" Shuuta sat with the other two members of the group, discussing recent findings in research, bio-organic sciences and philosophy over a game of Jugg-Phe. This is the Sakkran version of Chess, with the pieces and rules corresponding to a Jugg match.

The pilot of the Monitor IIa shuttle comms in the PA. "5 hours and counting. Comming stellar traffic control on Venus now for coordinates and protocols." The crackle of the PA sounds, and then is silent.

Lossa leans forward in his gel-cush chair, and moves his Quick in for a flanking maneuver around Krenn's Fence. "It should be fascinating, this trip. I would like to see how the ideology of the PanNorm has evolved since we were last in their company."

Krenn moves his Fence in to intercept the Quick. "I would suspect that many changes have occured. What they could be is speculation, and the variables many." The reach of Krenn's Fence is insufficient to intercept the Quick, and the Jugg is placed by Lossa.

"Victory! An excellent game, Krenn." A mug of wine is hoisted up by each player, and drained of its contents. "We should take excursions like this more often. I haven't relaxed like this in some time."

Eärendil rushed below them, a patchwork quilt of colours; flushed brilliant by sunlight. Overwhelmed by the experience - still perceiving the exterior world as Arisildë did, naked to the air - Olorndil found it difficult to focus his mind and guide the silmerámë towards their intended destination.

To the east, Arisildë. That is now our goal. His mind lapped against the neon-bright sea that was the silmerámë, sigils seeped through his own thoughts; coloured his world in a rush of wind and sunlight as the great creature responded to him, turned toward the eastern skies. Establish contact with the panNorm, let them know that the Silmellon delegation requests permission to enter their airspace.

Yes, Olorndil. Request transmitted. Silvered webs, Arisildë's thoughts were like the rush of water in the Silmesírë; powerful as the great river of Silmessë.

"I can feel them," Fírë said aloud, "the panNorm. Not so much a series of individual pinpoints of vividly coloured life, but an interconnecting web of ghost threads and vortexes whirling round bright centres." Strongly aroused interest; fascination was recorded in the healer's tone. Impossible to hide from Fírë - in the healer's world, life and death were visible and tangible forces - Olorndil realised suddenly why she'd yet to return to Varnamilmë.

The city is still a black jewel of death to her, he thought and Arisildë brushed at the thought; starlight composed of symbols, ever in motion.

"Not far now, Fírë, Alassënyelle," he said aloud. Opened eyes to study them. His sister appeared lost in her own thoughts, gazing at the silvered wall of the chamber; distorted features staring back at her. While the healer had sunk into her mercurial chair, embraced by metallic strands as though the silmerámë considered her fragile and worthy of extra precautions.

The crisp, faintly fragrant aroma of mountain air circulated within the silmerámë. It was not universal. Olorndil knew that Alassënyelle spoke of a forest blooming secretly within Fëafánë, her own silmerámë. It painted a subtle reminder; there were mysteries within the metal wyverns that the Silmellon had not yet begun to plumb.

His eyes slid closed, once more focused on the illusion that came to him via the cool silver communicator circlet; he was a great silmerámë, wings stretched out into the wind…

The response is a terse statement of acceptance, just polite enough to avoid being brusque. A simple transaction, no more and no less, with instructions to land at a particular structure detached from the main complex and surrounded by the shuttles of other delegations.

Once they arrive, they are greeted by a Blue coordinator, bowing low, its thorax pivoting on its four legs. "Welcome to Beta Hive. I understand we have not had the pleasure of relations until now, but we look forward to making more friendly contacts in our new home."

The Sakkrans, once they arrive, are greeted by another Blue with far more extensive yellow markings that introduces herself as "AdminCoordinator 67521 of the Blue Mother of Us All."

"On behalf of the panNorm populations of both Alpha and Beta Hives, we inquire into the status of the Mini population that requested asylum long ago. Hopefully they are doing well?"

The committee meeting them is led by a wispy Green covered in ornate yellow insignia painted on its chitinous carapace, head bowing slightly in respect. "I am EcoCoordinator 21473 of the Green Mother of Us All, and I welcome you in peace to Beta Hive. If there is anything we can do for you, our hospitality remains open." Notably, the insectoids seem to avoid looking at Sierra directly (although with compound eyes it is generally hard to tell) and they definitely give precedence to Zeroel. It isn't quite curiosity--a hundred or so years ago they fished a Zero-One android out of the Spherical sea, now on constant lecture tour on the advanced null-gravity sea life that has evolved over time--because robots and machines are not new to them. It seems to be even more basic than that.

Zeroel returns the gesture with a careful bow at the waist, while Sierra quietly mirrors the manuver. "Sierra-teichou and myself are fairly low maintence, but your hospitality is appreciated."

"We look forward to establishing good relations on behalf of the Shogunate." Sierra adds. "While our people were not involved in the initial incident, Firefury-sama has expressed her congratulations on your people's long journey and its successful conclusion."

The Sakkrans, once they arrive, are greeted by another Blue with far more extensive yellow markings that introduces herself as "AdminCoordinator 67521 of the Blue Mother of Us All."

"On behalf of the panNorm populations of both Alpha and Beta Hives, we inquire into the status of the Mini population that requested asylum long ago. Hopefully they are doing well?"

Lossa bows with his hands steepled together, and Shuuta and Krenn follow suit. Greetings to you, AdminCoordinator 67521 of the Blue Mother. To answer your question, they are flourishing quite nicely. Their population grows and thrives, and their employ is extensive in the Empire. They are allowed to govern themselves unimpeded by us, and have Council seating to decide on measures that would be beneficial to all involved." His crest raises half-high and his tympanum thrumm slightly.

"I am Dean of Students Lossa, and with me are Director Shuuta and Chief Research Specialist Krenn." A hand is motioned to either side of him, indicating the two beings.

"I can personally vouch that their expertise in technological miniaturization has proven beneficial to our people, and their numbers can be seen throughout the reaches of the Empire."

Krenn makes a coughing sound. "*ahem* The voyage here must have been long. Would you be willing to share some of the occurences you experienced on the way here?"

"We look forward to establishing good relations on behalf of the Shogunate." Sierra adds. "While our people were not involved in the initial incident, Firefury-sama has expressed her congratulations on your people's long journey and its successful conclusion."
The EcoCoordinator nods from her basket-like wheelchair, slowly wheeling it to the transport car access arch as her associates escort the Shogunate representatives in. "We have heard of your people through our Menelmacari contacts; any good friends of theirs we look favorably upon, naturally. As many of those larger nation-hives that assisted us have banded together--or so we have observed--and that you are connected to almost every one of them adds even more favor. Still, good favor implies high expectations..."

The Green pauses momentarily, head canted, then moving forward slightly as the steel translator cube in its mandibles emits a soft, modulated chuckle. "We do not expect you to disappoint." With a tap of the curved stylus on the backlit screen of the transport car, it starts moving for Beta Hive proper.

"*ahem* The voyage here must have been long. Would you be willing to share some of the occurences you experienced on the way here?"
The AdminCoordinator's box also emits a practically identical chuckle. "It has been a long time, certainly, but we will cover it in more detail during the briefing. Our relative seclusion has not been without cause, and not without reason either. It is nevertheless good to hear that our Mini cousins have been successful in their integration to your lands and societies."

(OOC: If there's no complaints [and whether or not Cetaganda just leaves that question hanging] I can move on to the briefing if everyone likes. Should provide more meat for questions and such.)

The LandCoordinator taps her antennae together, a soft laugh being translated through the box. "Well, it takes time to put aside the past. The wars certainly ended, but basic tensions did not--so we are still grateful to you for assisting us to taking the first step to closer camraderie among the panNorm."

She leads Vetinari and his retinue to a transport car identical to the one previously described. "We know we have been relatively silent since then during our readjustment, but we are still interested in maintaining the friendships we built over that period. Hopefully that's mutual... ?"
"

"Of course," replies Vetinari. "I'm sure a continued friendship between our peoples will be very fruitful for both parties. I suspect there's a great deal we can offer each other."

The AdminCoordinator's box also emits a practically identical chuckle. "It has been a long time, certainly, but we will cover it in more detail during the briefing. Our relative seclusion has not been without cause, and not without reason either. It is nevertheless good to hear that our Mini cousins have been successful in their integration to your lands and societies."



"Then the answers can wait until then. If you please, we would like to set up our gear and see how your people are adapting to their new home." Each Sakkran carries a large duffel which looks like it would weigh roughly 150 lbs if packed to the hilt. Fortunately, this is not the case this time.

They hoist their bags over their shouldes, and follow the AdminCoordinator. Krenn seems quite interested in the translator-box.

Mount Tumnore Facility, Ma-Nenya, Illuvauromeni Commonality of Everlasting Light; Aerial View, altitude 16,400ft

The mountaintop below was calm, smooth, black. It shouldn't have been black, of course. This was not Mount Tumnore, either; Mount Tumnore was to the north-east. This was Mount Glorious, in fact, which was much smaller...

And rather hollow, now. The Tumnore Facility consisted of a small installation set into the side of Mt. Tumnore itself, and a larger construction facility at Mt. Glorious.

Mt. Glorious spread below, the green of the valley-chain known as Yrlaica, the sea of green spread far wider than the eye could see. There, tall, grey trees stand, their leaves scented fragrantly sweet, untouched and untainted for the most part by pollutants in the soil or the air. The air is crisply clean, sharp, with a bite; it's cold, here, despite the tropical location.

The air rushes over the mountain and away to the south, down towards Lake Nenya hundreds of miles away, following a more direct path than Semir-randil had followed on his long journey with The People from Tumnore to Nenya. This was a land that sat on the edge of a place that was all-but forgotten: the Kingdom of Tumnore, still autonomous, still seperate. An island isolated from the world by the Commonality - an island that revelled in that isolation, and the protection afforded by having a CSF base right on their border. They were pleased, proud to continue their long traditions... and the Commonality was, for the most part, proud to protect this little kingdom.

Now the silence is broken by the hum of a warship lifting from the Facility, from the blackness; its sides are marked with diplomatic rather than military seals, and its underbelly bears the Imperial Three Star Sigil, rather than the Commonality version.

It is shifting in form, but not very quickly. The wide swept arc of its predatory, scorpion-like forward-reaching wings slowly ripples into a gentler form, more tubular, but still along the same basic lines. The change continues as the ship lifts higher into the air, the hum becoming a roar as it accelerates and displaces air as the false vacuum created by its propulsion system tears through the atmosphere.

Soon, it ceases showing anything but a pinprick of white-hot light, a glowing star in the sky far above...

IDSS Eywë; Commonality Space, Near Earth Space; En route to cislunar shunt

Rialla smiled faintly out at the vision of beauty below. She had seen the Earth from space before, of course, but she never tired of the view. And this time, she was more comfortable than those previous times she had ventured up here; this time, she was not in freefall.

And this time, unlike the other times, she was in such a bright mood that surely, were it converted to light, her happiness could light the Earth surround.

A hand fell subconsciously to her belly... she felt the replying gurgle of emotion and let out a sigh.

It was not strictly within the bounds of tradition that she should be seen by any at this particular time... but this was a different matter. She remembered the reports that had filtered through RISE regarding the S-14 Investigation... She had been mightily intrigued. Besides, modern medicine meant that there was little danger - either here on this pristine warship, or back on the ground in Nenya. It made little difference, especially as she had not yet been aware of any sensation of acceleration. Ah - there, a small tug. The ship had broken orbit, she knew, and was on its way outwards, towards a small speck that was visible to her eyes, now that the view had swung away from the Earth.

The velvet-black - although it looked a little brown, to her Nenyan eyes - of space was interrupted by the soft, muted blinking white light. Just a speck - she wasn't sure, but she suspected that some of the other sentient species that lived on that green-and-blue gem they had left behind would not be able to see it at this range. The Elves - now they would see it clear as day, of course.

The shunt was actually rather close - she could see it, after all - and rapidly grew in visibility. Within seconds, anyone would have been able to see it - no matter what species, presuming they weren't blind, or just not looking the right way.

She sighed as she sat on the couch, which then proceeded to fold itself around her. It was a specially created thing, which the doctors had insisted on: it would mitigate the g-stress just a little more than the PG fields did already, ensuring that no harm came to her unborn (and rather emotionally loud) child.

The child was just two months old, but already the most critical portions of his brain had developed. He would be born in three months time; Nenyan gestation is brief. He would, however, be very tiny. A very tiny bundle of joy who's eyes would not open for nearly a year... who would know the world only by its smell, touch, and sound - and by the warmth of the minds of his family around him. This was the entrance into the world that all of Rialla's kind enjoyed; soft, warm, inviting. It was no wonder that generations of Nenyans had reacted with violence to the dangers of the world outside the familial coccoon; the sudden realisation that the world was not confined to the beauty of the minds of the people around you...

Rialla remembered the shock. It had been a delightful one for her, as her people had finally learnt the lessons: education had to begin immediately - at conception. This, Rialla knew, was regarded with skepticism by the Human population, who failed to realise that the first and most critical phase of development for any Nenyan was the portion of the brain responsible for their empathy (and in some cases, telepathy - and in even less cases, telekinesis). Almost everything else - excepting the construction of a system to supply blood and oxygen to the critical cells - came after. So a Nenyan infant could be stimulated all the way through their time in the womb; their emotions could be stimulated, indeed, which gave them the tools required to understand the difficult world around them...

Especially the Humans. Exposure to Humans was now understood to be critical: Nenyan and Human thinking processes aren't quite the same... and nor are the emotions behind them, as a consequence. Rialla knew that that, in some way, had played a big part in the genocide committed by her ancestors; they had tasted Human minds and found them ugly.

Later, much later, Nenyankind had finally understood: they weren't ugly. Just... undisciplined. Chaotic. Difficult to understand... but not ugly. Indeed, Nenyan philosphers over the last hundred years had claimed that Human minds were a work of infinite beauty, unlike the blandness of a Nenyan mind.

Rialla didn't care which view was accurate: just that her child was balanced. This new species that had entered the playground... She wanted her child exposed to it. To understand it. To be born to understand.

And, as she was sedated for the Shunt, she decided didn't care if it was a bad idea to break with tradition so soundly.

* * *

Semir-randil liked to think he was not a control freak. He really did like to think so. He knew that he was, but it was nice to pretend otherwise occasionally, and suppress the urge. This was one of those times.

So, although he was the ranking officer present, he resisted the urge to bring the crew to rights over their relaxed behaviour. He also knew that he was the one who had implemented the new, more relaxed training program for the renamed Commonality Space Force...

But he was beginning - beginning - to regret that decision. Time would tell...

"Sir, we're about to be Shunted," reported the commanding officer, a striking and young-looking Nenyan woman. Looks could be deceiving, of course. This woman had served in the old IAF - before it had been taken over by the Commonwealth of Ma-tek, a hundred and two years previous. Semir-randil preferred to see ships commanded by older officers, with greater experience, yet he wondered at this one: how could she stand the lack of discipline, following her time in the old spit-and-polish Imperial Assault Force?

Semir did not have an answer. "Proceed," he stated needlessly, but in line with protocol.

He braced his knees as the ship was caught onto by a grappling arm, swung around several times, and then hurled away from the Earth on a course that, if not altered later, would send the ship 'up' and away from the solar system.

The ship continued to accelerate, and Semir became aware of the acceleration as a faint tingling in his scalp; blood, he knew, was finding it harder to reach his brain. The human officers on the bridge - which was most of them - were braced in their chairs, looking mighty uncomfortable.

Semir covered a smile with his hand... there were some advantages to having less mass; such as requiring less bloodflow, for example. His heartrate increased to almost double its normal rate, and the tingling ceased; he did feel a faint pressure in his chest, however. His heart was beating at eighty beats a minute, after all; usually it didn't beat that hard unless he sprinted all out for several hundred meters. Which wasn't bad for his age...

He became aware of the pressure on his cheekbones, his skin pressing against them. He resisted the urge to whoop; he had always loved being pressed back in his seat... he sometimes flew his private X# to its limits, just to relish the g-force. It was somehow exhilerating... but for some reason, not quite so much when you weren't at the controls. The pressure became intense; his vision blurred slightly - not because blood was not reaching the pertinant area of his brain, but because his sensitive, soft eyes were being compressed. It stung slightly, and he knew from experience that it would probably itch for an hour or two - but the itching served to remind him that, although he was more g-tolerant, he was also less g-tolerant.

As a human mother had once said to him: "What you gain on the swings, you lose on the roundabouts."

It made sense, in an obscure manner. Quietly, a smile entering his voice at the thought of swings and roundabouts and the personal relevance that such had to him at the current time, he asked, "Time to first transition?"

The captain glanced at him, surprise evident in her vivid - and slightly discoloured - amber eyes (and in the texture of her mind, of course). She was not used to hearing emotion in the voice of the High King. "Sir, approximately four hours. We're at the requisite speed already - those Shunts really do help - but the computer will take a while to make the necessary calculations regarding minor variations in our expected course. We should arrive at our destination in about six-to-seven hours; the last five Hops will be quite complex, according to projections."

Semir tried not to smile. "Ah, thank-you, captain. - Then I believe I shall be retiring until our arrival..."

He stood as he spoke, not wasting time, and making it clear that he was indeed departing. Now. Technically, he ought to remain... but there were some advantages to rank. Such as ignoring technicalities... when the situation merited it.

I understand, captain Sifur sent; her thinking-voice was much less stiff compared to her speaking-voice.

Semir replied with emotion, instead of words, just a small brush of gratitude, as he exited the bridge, to walk down the long corridor towards the transport tube, and onwards, to where his wife awaited.

He hoped that the compression couch hadn't put her in a bad mood.

* * *

Rialla was in a foul mood when she came to. She had bruises on her arms and ankles - bruises! Of course, she had probably earned them when she thrashed around as she came to - she always did that when she woke up, which was why Semir had learned to vacate the bed before she was awake - but that didn't blunt her mood.

What did blunt her mood was the confusion that spilled into her mind from the child growing inside her. She sighed, calming herself-

And then she smiled. The VisiWall was showing an image of herself and Semir, standing before a massive gathering of people, their swords replaced in their scabbards after having defeated their challengers...

It was such a sweet, thoughtful thing - to put up one of their wedding photos for her to see when she awoke - that he had done, that Rialla almost forgot that it had been his insistence that had added the weight to the doctors decision to send the damned compression couch along.

Almost.

The response is a terse statement of acceptance, just polite enough to avoid being brusque. A simple transaction, no more and no less, with instructions to land at a particular structure detached from the main complex and surrounded by the shuttles of other delegations.

Once they arrive, they are greeted by a Blue coordinator, bowing low, its thorax pivoting on its four legs. "Welcome to Beta Hive. I understand we have not had the pleasure of relations until now, but we look forward to making more friendly contacts in our new home."

Olorndil breathed the filtered air, tasted the panNorm scents pervading the structure and wondered at the touch of acidity that mingled with the sweet.
Behind him the massive silmerámë closed its gaping maw, the high arched, fang crowned exit taken to leave the strange, living vessel. Amethyst eyes, now revealed, caste a violet glow across the walls; before Arisildë closed them and seemed to fall asleep.
Already the Silmerámë appeared a vast, silvery statue laid gently on the solid landing bay; impossible to imagine its previous fluidity.

At his Olorndil's side, the Lady Alassënyelle tested the air, faint lines etching her pale brows.
It has a particular aroma, like ants gathered in the moist warmth of the earth, her thoughts touched lightly on his own, even as her own perfume rippled out to mark her passage; crushed rose and vanilla.

Fírë, no doubt exploring the place with other senses, moved less certainly behind them; extended fingers keeping a gentle contact with Alassënyelle, a blind girl guided by her sighted friend.

Yet it would certainly be the fourth member of the Silmellon Lord's entourage that drew the most attention - the watercoloured Arishén.
The hróan had exuded from the silvered flesh of the silmerámë, Arisildë and resembled the Silmellon only superficially; her washed out colouring tinged with metallic hues and eyes that glowed unnaturally, vivid violet.

Their guide among the panNorm was obliquely studied, the Silmellon tactful but intrigued. Its greeting, vocalised with unusual intonation, drew their full gaze briefly; eyes flowing over the chitanous exoskeleton of the Blue coordinator.

"Let it be so," Olorndil replied, disguising the disconcertion aroused by his inability to read the alien features of their guide; which may as well have been as frozen as the still silmerámë. "May our company please the panNorm." His hands, dancing gestures, drew attention to his entourage as he offered up their names, "Our Lady of the Silmellon, Alassënyelle. The healer and our cousin, Fírë and…" hands described sigils in the air "…the hróan of the silmerámë, Arisildë."

Aware that the panNorm might require greater explanation, he added, "Arishén will be the eyes and voice of the living vessel." Would the Blue coordinator require greater detail? Even to unfamiliar eyes the hróan would exude its potential. As speculation played through Olorndil's mind, burning sigils glittered like after-images - Arisildë's formulaic flavoured thoughts - were perceived.

"I am Olorndil, called Lord of the Silmellon," he cast aside distractions, completed his introduction. "We are pleased to be here." Hands encompassed the structures, glimpsed and concealed.

"Then the answers can wait until then. If you please, we would like to set up our gear and see how your people are adapting to their new home." <snip> They hoist their bags over their shouldes, and follow the AdminCoordinator. Krenn seems quite interested in the translator-box.
The AdminCoordinator leads them to a transport car, sending it hurtling towards Beta Hive with a quick tap of the stylus. "You are certainly free to set up your equipment; we will forever be in debt to your assistance."

She taps the metal cube in her mandibles with one manipulator-claw. "The translator is ancient technology. It simply accepts input from microscopic movements in my maxillae and mandibles, as well as basic conductivity and voltage changes from saliva to detect the electromotive cues of panNorm speech. It then uses its integral optronic computer to translate that in real-time into English or whatever other language it is designed for, and finally uses a simple carbon-plate speaker to output what it synthesizes."

"I am Olorndil, called Lord of the Silmellon," he cast aside distractions, completed his introduction. "We are pleased to be here."
"And we are pleased to host you, as it were. I am Coordinator 38156 of the Blue Mother of Us All, assigned to diplomacy and science duty." She looks with an alien curiosity at the hróan, not noticable by any movement of eye or facial expression, as both are impossible for the ant-like insectoid... it can only be inferred by how she does act; tilting her head oddly to get better views with her advanced compound eyes, a certain deliberate slowness to the motions of her antennae. "It has long been a theory of ours that organic technology could be possible yet we have lacked the necessary backgrounds to make any such thing feasible, especially not to the complexity required for vessels or auxilliary parasite drones. Most fascinating indeed."

Another delegation, another transport car, all the same design. Twelve oblong couches placed radially around a central control pedestal with a backlit map, the room comfortably dark in its simple tones of grey plastic and soft charcoal carpet. "Our information concerning you and your people is unforgivably limited," the coordinator continues as a gentle sense of acceleration builds, "so perhaps you could tell us more about yourselves during the ride?"

"Coordinator…" though the sequence of numbers were indelibly fixed in memory, Olorndil found himself reluctant to embrace them. It seems such a cold moniker, stripped of identity. The pause grew into a silence.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Arishén studying their guide; violet eyes ghosted with sigils. Fírë and Alassënyelle sat side by side. The interior of the transport seemed designed to blend into the background, leaving the pair little else to do but imitate the hróan. Though their evident delight in the surprising beauty of the Coordinator's stained exoskeleton may well be less disturbing than the unblinking gaze of Arishén.

[i]Olorndil shifted, as though he himself were the target of the hróan's unflinching study; an empathy with the panNorm that surprised him.

He began again, "Silmessë would be difficult to discover in the history books, indeed if there exist volumes containing reference to the isle and to our people it would be found only the most ancient of libraries. Certainly, no mortal scriptures recorded the Silmellon, for no mortal had stepped upon our isle and even among our kin, Silmessë was a distant and rarely visited realm. Only those who passed from the great Elven kingdoms of the Earth, returning to Valinor stopped a while; feasted on honeyed foods at our tables…and such were rare in our age." The Lord of the Silmellon sighed, "Then we were overcome by charm or curse, a great forgetting of the Silmellon cast into the world and we ourselves snapped from the progression of time to re-emerge in this strange age." He smiled sadly, a glance exchanged between his flesh and blood companions; the dark memories that remained yet…the days of Dust and Ash. "You'll find us contrary, a co-mingling of the ancient lore and the modern sciences, for in our youthful days the knowledge of Valinor steeped into the Silmellon and has ever remained."

Shrouded eyes, perversely darkened by the artificial lighting that flooded the transporter, focused once more on their guide; slid across the glistening, polished carapace.

Alassënyelle spoke then, leaning forward gracefully, companionably towards the strange form of the Coordinator.
"If there is ought in my brother's tale that requires greater definition, you may ask freely. " Her voice was soft and melodic, evoked the impression of a breeze and seemed to give the Coordinator's translating device some difficulties. "We are not a secretive race, though it may appear so from the histories that appear so thin to foreign eyes.

Observing the interaction, her calm self-assurance, Olorndil wondered what image the gathered Silmellon delegation presented to the panNorm guide. If their senses are likened to those they most resemble on the earth, then it is our scent that most defines us.

IDSS Eywë, Near Mercury Space; Transition entrance at +1,000,000klicks->Decellerative orbital insertion burn

The blaze of a powerful electromagnetic signature announced the arrival of the IDSS Eywë a mere three milliseconds ahead of time. The EM signature blossoms in intensity, the poles parting in a snap that takes a fraction of a fraction of a thousandth of a millionth of a second, before they collapse back on themselves again just under three milliseconds later, a pinpoint signature with confused lesser signatures surrounding it. At the last instant of those three milliseconds, the blazing white light of the Eywë pulses outwards, heralding its physical arrival in Mercurian space.

Having lost seventy percent of its speed to the sequence of Transitions that had brought it here, the sleekly shimmering warship exerts reverse propulsive thrust - although no chemical thrusters are involved - and swings into a high polar orbit around Mercury fifteen minutes later.

Seven minutes after the Transition into Mercurian space, the Eywë artificial intelligence bleats out a welcome to all and any ships in the area, informing them that the Eywë is approaching on a diplomatic mission - gunports closed.

Indeed, the warship doesn't have a threatening look. Her hull has shifted to a softer, more elegant shape than it had possessed when she first arrived in the area - all harsh, angular, predatory lines. Her gunports are indeed tightly closed, and her targeting scanners run passive - although her point defence scanners are running hot and active.

* * *

IDSS Eywë, High Polar Orbit, Mercury: MT +00:00:15:34

Semir-randil motioned to the Human at CommOps impatiently, not needing to issue the order again. The man had understood first time - he was just taking his own sweet time.

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be aiming at," he admitted.

"I had a feeling you wouldn't," a soft voice murmoured from the rear of the bridge. Semir did not need to turn to recognize the man; however, in this time, and this place, he did not know him. So turn he did.

"Ah, you are awake, I see," he observed unnecessarily.

The newcomer flashed a smile - but didn't reply. Instead, she motioned the man aside and took his place. The young officer didn't look impressed, but Semir didn't really care. All he cared about was having someone at CommOps who knew where to aim their boosted transmissions - they needed to boost them simply because the MI cores were still 'hot' (a 'technical' term meaning in this case, oddly, that the core outputs were lower than usual); they had backup batteries for that very purpose. As they swung around Mercury, the cores would come alive again slowly; but in truth, they had plenty of juice to drive the ship: it was just wiser to conserve it. The ship ran at around 15% full power, therefore.

"Ready," she reported moments later.

Semir opened the contact on his control panel; he wasn't quite sure who he was addressing, and nor was he quite aware of the chosen name of whatever governmental system the beings from S-14 had set up: there was no intel on them, really, beyond what had been gathered on the expedition... And those reports still seemed vague, to Semir. "Greetings from the Illuvauromeni Commonality of Everlasting Light, formerly known to you as the Empire of the Eternal Dawn. This is High King Semir-randil I of the Imperial Defence Stellar Ship Eywë, also with Empress the Supreme Commander Rialla ux-Rihad II, on a mission of peace and goodwill. We await landing/conveyance instructions."

He closed the contact, rubbed his chin indulgently. Stiff. It had definitely been too... stiff.

The AdminCoordinator leads them to a transport car, sending it hurtling towards Beta Hive with a quick tap of the stylus. "You are certainly free to set up your equipment; we will forever be in debt to your assistance."

She taps the metal cube in her mandibles with one manipulator-claw. "The translator is ancient technology. It simply accepts input from microscopic movements in my maxillae and mandibles, as well as basic conductivity and voltage changes from saliva to detect the electromotive cues of panNorm speech. It then uses its integral optronic computer to translate that in real-time into English or whatever other language it is designed for, and finally uses a simple carbon-plate speaker to output what it synthesizes."

Krenn puts a claw to his chin thoughtfully. "Indeed. If I may, i'd like to submit a proposal to the Mother of your people, for an upgrade in translation technology. Something a bit less unwieldly for your peoples. We are using them even now." With that he taps just below his ear-hole, and a small circular creature pops off his head and lands in his hand.

For all intents and purposes, it looks like a Sakkran scale, save for long tendrils around the circumfrence of the creature. "A symbiotid that recieves resonant frequencies of sound. Neurologically connected to the ear and throat. Able to adjust outgoing sound to match the sound it recieves."

He places the creature back under his ear-hole, and the tiny tendrils whip for a second around the ear and down to the throat. The color shifts and resumes its previous appearance. "We can gene-gineer something along these lines workable for your people."

"If there is ought in my brother's tale that requires greater definition, you may ask freely. " Her voice was soft and melodic, evoked the impression of a breeze and seemed to give the Coordinator's translating device some difficulties. "We are not a secretive race, though it may appear so from the histories that appear so thin to foreign eyes."While there are several concepts expressed that we do not on the whole understand," the insectoid replies, "we do note a large amount of relatively specific terminology we have encountered previously in Menelmacari cultural documents and data. This information is considered so esoteric that it is not generally circulated among the Hives but perhaps now, given the probable sociological factors of existing beside several cultures that appear to share somewhat a common history and social factors which are generally alien to us, it would be worth the effort to ensure that this information is universally learned by the panNorm." As she speaks, its antennae continue to wave, its manipulators--consisting of three bony digits (for they truly resemble the bulky bones that are their analog in humanoids) with three joints, much like humanoid fingers, looking like blunt yet deft claws--punctuating her speech. Communication between the panNorm is a multifaceted affair; the most basic ideas are made through sound, with overall emotion indicated by pheromones and fine grammar indicators via visual cues, usually in the antennae but often also in the arms. This makes speech between them look like a dance, and, in a way, it is... but not the ecstatic dance of life in the streets, or even the formal and regimented dance of the ballroom. It is the mathematically precise dance of the bees, although, unlike unthinking insects, there are momentary glimpses of flair here and there. "We always have questions; the absorption of knowledge is part of the growth of the panNorm. However, we know from experience that asking that which we are most curious about simply elicits more curious answers which create more questions and answer nothing. Therefore, for now, let us limit the domain of our questions to things of immediate concern--not out of rudeness you understand," the box gives its little chuckle again, "for we are made to understand that we can be brusque at times. It is simply how we are. What do you seek here, how can we assist, and how can we profit from it?"

If the voices of the Silmesse party elicit odd reactions, it is not readily apparent from the actions of the insectoids. Actually, they find it quite curious, an extremely unusual circumstance. The two Blues in the party, essentially indistinguishable from each other except in the differences between their painted insignia, consider it to be an anomalous reaction to be studied. The smooth-carapaced Red engineer ponders if it is intentional, whether it is beneficial and harmful, and how to exploit it if the former or prevent it in the latter. The spiky Red soldiers have a more extreme example of the same reaction, but depending on whether it is a direct threat; it is benign and so is classified in the broad category of 'not yet threatening.' The Green... simply listens to the music... and this is not unsurprising, as the insects perfectly understand the language that the aural receptors in their legs and joints sense. It is simply physically impossible for them to speak it.

And the concepts, thought the Blues on the natural radio communication that served the panNorm as a form of telepathy, so common here, and yet alien to us! There are simply no such things in the panNorm pantheon, for they have none. The Ancestors are revered, but, again, it was the Ancestors who created Alpha and sent it on its epic mission. It was the Previous who guided it, not perfectly, yet maintained it for fifteen million years. It is the Mothers of Us All who maintain the species, that ensure the life of the panNorm. All living (at one time), breathing beings that touched and could be touched, not angelic Valinor of higher planes of existence. The Menelmacari had certainly tried to explain, and they had tried in the research of the Blues to make rational sense of it, finding the analogs of different cultures, archiving whatever had ever been written or said about these things and survived for them to experience and collating pseudofact. But metaphysicality by its very nature has no truly physical analog; either the beings described were simply extremely powerful manifestations of currently unknown and extrapolated phenomenon on this plane or else... they were not. The concept is simply... alien.

This is probably why what few missionaries that had ever been sent to S-14 met with essentially no success whatsoever besides that of the storeteller that can spin a good yarn.

"Greetings from the Illuvauromeni Commonality of Everlasting Light, formerly known to you as the Empire of the Eternal Dawn. This is High King Semir-randil I of the Imperial Defence Stellar Ship Eywë, also with Empress the Supreme Commander Rialla ux-Rihad II, on a mission of peace and goodwill. We await landing/conveyance instructions.""Greetings High King Semir-randil I and Empress the Supreme Commander Rialla ux-Rihad II aboard the Imperial Stellar Ship Eywë of the Illuvauromeni Commonality of Everlasting Light. It has been a long while since we have last communicated, perhaps too long. We are afraid the reports from the archaeological expedition we sent have been... cloudy, at best.

"Please direct your vessel to follow..." A bit of technical jargon, probably dutifully followed out by the crew of the good ship, all ending up to the same result: Another landing on an essentially identical pad that leads to a waiting area essentially identical to the one described previous, albeit at a different site as now all the pads at the first are filled. The reception committee for this party is led by yet another Blue, perhaps not the most highest-ranking Coordinator but certainly well-versed in the proper and traditional greetings as she and her kin gently marshall the ICEL party to the transport car.

"A symbiotid that recieves resonant frequencies of sound. Neurologically connected to the ear and throat. Able to adjust outgoing sound to match the sound it recieves.""Most fascinating," the AdminCoordinator says with a nod. "However, there is one problem with that system--we do not exactly exhale for speech, and thus such a thing has no way to actively create sound for us in speech. As for listening, we understand you anyway. A direct neural interface may be useful as part of some less bulky outbound translation device, true, but whatever it connects to must still have some sort of sound-production mechanism... which I doubt is outside of your ken." A diplomatic chuckle. "If such a thing is possible for you, what would you accept in exchange for sufficient understanding of the technology so that we can produce it ourselves?"

"Please direct your vessel to follow..." A bit of technical jargon, probably dutifully followed out by the crew of the good ship, all ending up to the same result: Another landing on an essentially identical pad that leads to a waiting area essentially identical to the one described previous, albeit at a different site as now all the pads at the first are filled. The reception committee for this party is led by yet another Blue, perhaps not the most highest-ranking Coordinator but certainly well-versed in the proper and traditional greetings as she and her kin gently marshall the ICEL party to the transport car.


There are four in the party, in all. The Empress, Rialla and the High King, Semir both wear the new white-and-blue dress uniforms of the IDF, and - presumably - ceremonial swords at their hips. They carry no other weapons, of course. The white uniform is two-piece, consisting of a jacket sealed cleanly at the center in some unknown fashion, with rank pins at the shoulders and titular insignia at the right hip. If such minute details are known to the blue or any of those present, the rank pins declare Rialla as Supreme Commander of the IDF, and Semir as the High Lord Commodore. The titular insignia mark both Rialla and Semir as Warmistress First Class and Warmaster First Class respectively. A single thin blue line runs from the right shoulder to the left hip. - Naturally, Rialla wears her hair up. Both wear circlets that appear to be made out of platinum; Rialla's has a small green gemstone set into the centre front of hers, and Semir's has a small blue gemstone. Both circlets have complex geometric patterns etched into them - flawlessly, no doubt.

The other two party members are dressed a little differently; they wear pure black uniforms. The uniforms are utterly black, but appear to have a great many pockets and folds. On the left breast of the black uniform are the letters "NIOUA" in a stilted form of the usually flowing Nenyan script. One of those dressed in black is familiar to the hosts, although probably not personally, of course; she was among those who had boarded S-14 on the expedition. The other is not. There don't appear to be any marks or differences on the black uniforms that could denote differences in ranks.

Neither of the black-adorned persons speak, from the moment they leave the ship via the rather showy ramp - which doesn't extrude or lower, but dissolves into a near-liquid state and flows to the ground.

Rialla, however, has a question, as she is ushered into the vehicle. "I must ask a small question, please... I'm not sure if you are aware, but we Nenyans are empathic. Do you wish us to take the utmost care to not intrude upon anything we may detect from you, or do we need not take that care? Different cultures have different ideals of privacy, after all, and we would not wish to give offense."

Rialla, however, has a question, as she is ushered into the vehicle. "I must ask a small question, please... I'm not sure if you are aware, but we Nenyans are empathic. Do you wish us to take the utmost care to not intrude upon anything we may detect from you, or do we need not take that care? Different cultures have different ideals of privacy, after all, and we would not wish to give offense."
"You are welcome to try," the Blue says with a chuckle, "but I'm afraid it has been shown in the past that an attempt to make psionic contact of any sort with the panNorm is something akin to poking a very small hole in a very large, pressurized tank of liquid. The hole does not stay very small for long, and the resulting pressure release is extremely hard to contain. In short," she waves her antennae in circles, then taps them together, "it is not recommended. You may be safer if you simply try and avoid detecting; even if it is safe, we are sure that the patterns are sufficiently alien to be more disconcerting than enlightening."

"You are welcome to try," the Blue says with a chuckle, "but I'm afraid it has been shown in the past that an attempt to make psionic contact of any sort with the panNorm is something akin to poking a very small hole in a very large, pressurized tank of liquid. The hole does not stay very small for long, and the resulting pressure release is extremely hard to contain. In short," she waves her antennae in circles, then taps them together, "it is not recommended. You may be safer if you simply try and avoid detecting; even if it is safe, we are sure that the patterns are sufficiently alien to be more disconcerting than enlightening."

Rialla raises her eyebrows slightly. "Truly, that is most intriguing indeed. And yet I presume there is no similar reaction to broadcast empathy - or we would not be able to have this conversation now."

The other Nenyans share a private-looking smile; Semir speaks up softly. "We are broadcast empaths, although the usual sort of broadcast - quite unconscious - is generally so weak to the perception of other species that it's undetectable. Still, it is a good thing that we do not disturb you with it."

The woman in black speaks quietly, "We truly cannot help but broadcast. It is our nature, and part of our communication. Without empathic broadcast, a conversation between two Nenyans would seem very bland indeed."

The other Nenyans nod in unison.

"No... as far as we can tell it either has to be receptive or connective. Psionics is not something we tend to dwell on for individual panNorm have no knack for it. It appears that we are only a psionic presence at the scale of the networked panNorm as a whole, the gestalt of all individuals in constant lightspeed contact. Even then we are not organized enough to bend that collective force of will into the more esoteric forms we have observed in this system, although sheer inertia also makes the gestalt--and, by extention, any panNorm individual--extremely resistant to psionic effects either through difficulty to manipulate or the sheer power of willsome disbelief. It is not something we can nor desire to understand very much... most of this has been told to us by Menelmacari mages."

The Auditorium
(OOC: We can continue conversations in the background if you wish; may as well get to the briefings now anyway)

To some pseudoscientific circles, the number six is considered the primary number of a fantastical series of relations they call "sacred geometry" that concentrates on ratios, circles, and, of course, hexagons. If that pseudoscience could be likened to a cult or a religion--as many have done--then the auditorium would be their chapel. It is a great lecture hall made entirely of hexagons and hexagonal sections in floorplan--the rear of the room is made of half a hexagon with a major radius of about fifty meters--52.8 meters, actually, as the panNorm standard length unit 'body length' is fortunately exactly 2200 centimeters long--meaning each of its three sides are over twenty-five meters long. The front of the lecture hall is an equilateral triangle more than fifty meters to a side. In three dimensions, this shape is rotated to form half a cone, slanted at thirty degrees to the horizontal and creating a natural 'slope' so those sitting above may see past those sitting below. Each of the three walls of the half-hexagon curve gracefully in cylindrical sections to a vaulted point defined by the highest point of the conic; this provides room for a balcony that juts out into the triangle whose edge is formed by a line of tesselated hexagons, giving it a distinctive zig-zag edge of hundred-twenty degree angles.

All ceiling and wall surfaces are made of tesselated hexagonal acoustic plating, every third tile being a lamp glowing with soft, cold white light, all equally spaced. It is made of 2.2 meter long 'stair steps' that emanate radially from the apex of the cone, these of course being home to rows of the elliptical couches that are the standard of panNorm seating--all modified to be able to have their backs folded up to form more comfortable arrangements for humanoids, of course--and broken into three equal sections with two clear aisles between them. Each couch has a fold-out writing surface and bone-conduction audio connections, essentially suction cups with integral ultrasonic speakers. While optimized for exoskeletals, they also work with endoskeletals, although the sense of one's skull vibrating is probably mildly disconcerting for those not used to it. The floors and couches are covered with a strong, slightly deep wooly shag carpet about the consistency of an old but clean mop--very durable, yet soft--of a dark charcoal color. The walls are a grey on the light side of medium that neither seems to absorb or reflect light very well; the aisles are indicated by an immediately identifiable yet distinctly colder version of the traditional rope light.

The very front of the cone is taken up by a sixty-degree arc section 'stage' resembling a pie wedge, raised up from the 'floor' by a meter lip. It has archlike doors on either side leading backstage, no podium or similar structure, and is about nine meters (four body lengths, to be exact) on each side. Above and slightly in front of the stage is a large box on the ceiling intended to drop a projection screen; smaller monitors are provided in the front for those who are sitting too close to comfortably view the screen. There is also a multifaceted, roughly hemispherical projector in the middle of the cone's ceiling about two meters across.

In all, the 'chapel of sacred geometry' metaphor seems most appropriate. Like an ultramodern church building, it has a sort of austerity that comes from its simple lines, its clean surfaces, its complete lack of decoration or aesthetic apart from its mere construction. While not depressing, it is certainly solemn; while not simplistic, it certainly is simple; while not harsh, it certainly has a sort of utilitarian severity about it, mostly as an effect of the color.

The OverCoordinators that greeted what parties they could are now assembled on the stage. After allowing everyone a few moments to get settled and take in the atmosphere, the blue-carapaced AdminCoordinator steps up to speak.

"No... as far as we can tell it either has to be receptive or connective. Psionics is not something we tend to dwell on for individual panNorm have no knack for it. It appears that we are only a psionic presence at the scale of the networked panNorm as a whole, the gestalt of all individuals in constant lightspeed contact. Even then we are not organized enough to bend that collective force of will into the more esoteric forms we have observed in this system, although sheer inertia also makes the gestalt--and, by extention, any panNorm individual--extremely resistant to psionic effects either through difficulty to manipulate or the sheer power of willsome disbelief. It is not something we can nor desire to understand very much... most of this has been told to us by Menelmacari mages."


Rialla gives the tiniest of shrugs, but the man in black speaks up for the first time.

"We have been experimenting with applications of psionics far more in recent years; we came across a most curious contradiction, although I'm not entirely sure you'd wish to hear of it," he says in a soft, singsong voice.

Semir gives a small shake of his head, but the man doesn't notice it - he goes on, "We noticed that if we pooled talents of a certain type together, at a certain point, the whole became lesser than the starting individual had been. It appears only to affect telekinetics, which are so rare anyway. A great shame."

It doesn't seem very important information, but Semir frowns, just for a split-instant, before he explains, "Mr. Ro-dij is one of our few true talents: a dual-ability mentalic. Very rare, you understand. Indeed, he is actually here to represent that facet of our society. I represent the philosophical, the Empress represents the spirit of the people, Miss Selpheit," he waves a hand towards the lady in black, "the mathematical, and Mr. Ro-dij the mental. - From the Menelmacari your understanding comes, you say? That is indeed most interesting; the Nenyan species originated in that land, you know. Indeed, my father was born there... quite a few years ago."

[OOC: I'll assume the car is moving while they chat... ;)]

Transport Car with Ma-Tek Delegation

The Blue nods in an unintentional parody of the human motion. "We are unsure whether Nenyan psionic group tendencies translate well to panNorm psionic group tendencies. We are also not extremely interested in finding out whether this is true or not. What we know of our own tendencies we have learned from others who believe in its validity more than we ourselves. While they have set up demonstrations for us in the past, we find no scientific evidence to explain these phenomenon, and they can offer no such evidence to explain it either. Obviously it must be the result of scientific principles we do not yet understand and, without any inkling of what those principles may be, further study for reasons other than to find those basic principles is counterproductive for the expansion of the panNorm."

The Auditorium

The ornately-painted Blue bows before the audience, the modulated voice of her translator easily filling the room, seemingly without assistance... but, of course, it is aided with several surreptitiously hidden, well-placed speakers that act more as signal repeaters than a public address system. "Welcome, friends and acquaintences of the panNorm, to Beta Hive. I am AdminCoordinator 67521 of the Blue Mother of Us All, overall director of the panNorm. I am possibly the closest thing analogous to the leaders of your nations, and those surrounding me are the directors of the various departments of panNorm society. They could be considered analogous to ministers or secretaries, although the hierarchal difference is quite a bit more subtle than that. They will discuss their relevant sections; I will provide overview. Throughout, we are willing to take any questions that you may have."

A screen lowers, showing a political/topographical map of Venus (http://img78.photobucket.com/albums/v257/Sirithil/venus_map.jpg) dominated by Menelmacari territory in red and the 'PanNorm Respite of Eärendil' taking up approximately the bottom center sixth. "Through the charity of our Menelmacari benefactors, we are in complete dominion of the series of archipelagos in the southern hemisphere between the three-hundred-tenth and one-fourty-third meridians. For now, this entire Respite will be classified as Beta Hive, with a new set of Mothers of Us All, but we have plans for possible separation and reallocation of Hives dependent on population pressures and coordination limits. Beta Hive and the rest of the Respite will be our primary population area for now, although our new Seeker-class tesseract scouts of the panNorm Science Command are currently seeking out potential locations for future habitation in the event that population pressures in this star system become unmanageable.

"Some have asked about the future of Alpha, probably known better to you as the S-14 colony vessel. We are... loathe to leave behind such a great reminder of our history, so Alpha Hive will remain in high orbit around Venus as an artificial satellite. Systems related to its primary function as an actual vessel will be removed, which the EngCoordinator of Alpha Hive will explain in greater detail; other modifications will be made to it so it will be, in essence, an orbital habitat. This and other information relating to it will be covered by my cousin OverCoordinators.

"As we are expanding our hives, we have reorganized what passes as a structure in our society. The Engineering Command, being dependent on the nature of any given hive, is now extent only as SubCommand in the local hive level; the Science Command, being most effective as a global structure rather than a regimentalized one will not be repeated on the local hive level; S-14 Colony Ship Command, being related only to Alpha Hive, is now Alpha Hive Station Command and is matched by Beta Hive Land Command on the ground. All other Commands have been raised to panNorm level along with a panNorm Command and are repeated on the hive level as SubCommands. These are hardly pyramidal hierarchies like most of the cultures we have seen in this system, and are more accurately described as nebulous and highly internally redundant associations deliniated for the minimum amount of conflict between them. This system of order protected us from unacceptable command loss during our voyage here; it still works to protect us from the same now."

She takes one quadrupedal step back. "If there are no questions, then I will give the floor to the OverCoordinator of Alpha Hive Engineering SubCommand."

Transport Car with Ma-Tek Delegation

The Blue nods in an unintentional parody of the human motion. "We are unsure whether Nenyan psionic group tendencies translate well to panNorm psionic group tendencies. We are also not extremely interested in finding out whether this is true or not. What we know of our own tendencies we have learned from others who believe in its validity more than we ourselves. While they have set up demonstrations for us in the past, we find no scientific evidence to explain these phenomenon, and they can offer no such evidence to explain it either. Obviously it must be the result of scientific principles we do not yet understand and, without any inkling of what those principles may be, further study for reasons other than to find those basic principles is counterproductive for the expansion of the panNorm."
<snip>

The Nenyans look at each other for several seconds; if the Blue can detect such nuances outside its own culture, it would notice significant differences in the body language of the Nenyans. Indeed, despite their lack of speech, it's almost as if they are communicating still; but only for a moment.

"We... have some level of understanding beyond that of most others," Semir-randil says slowly, "at least as we understand the understanding of others. At the very least, our form of... empathy... is quite definable; in at least a thousand isolated experiments, we've managed to detect EM field extensions in test subjects attempting to, uh, communicate emotionally at the highest level we can attain. We aren't entirely sure if those 'spikes' have anything to do with the actual psionic activity, or whether they're a byproduct of brain activity. It's tough to say. However, telekinetically talented individuals tend to have difficulties with static discharge; relatives often report that they have frequently recieved 'shocks' from the telekinetic talent."

"We've also noticed a distinct pattern in the auditory capabilities of telepaths," Rialla adds slowly, "who seem to be more capable in the upper region of ordinary Nenyan hearing than the lower region. Most Nenyans can detect in a range that is somewhat wider than that of Humans - we're not entirely sure of your range, I'm afraid, so I can't make a comparison - but telepaths seem 'focused' on the upper end of the Nenyan hearing range. They don't hear lower tones as well as most of their cousins; strangely, many telepaths are also musicians."

"A great number of the strongest empaths tend to become actors," the man in the black uniform asserts, "but some become soldiers. Strong empaths - as all of our species are empathic to some degree or another - don't seem to have any additional differences to the rest; most of us are broadcast-strong but recieve-weak, however. Most of us."

"Some telepaths also appear to have difficulties with language," Semir adds slowly, "as I recall it, I did not learn to speak to an acceptable level - understandably, that is - until I was at least four years old. Most Nenyan children learn to speak very quickly; some are even speaking at eight or nine months - we measure from conception, not birth, by the way, because Nenyan infants develop the critical portion of the brain for empathy at the earliest stage of development in the womb. The Nenyan gestation period is shorter than that of Humans, also. - As a result, we've had many, many years to consider psionics. We do have empirical data on the matter, in fact. Some studies are less well known than others, naturally, also."

Again the knowing, almost communicative looks are shared.

With Ma-Tek In Transport Car

"While we have found some slight correlation between various forms of telepathy and empathy and electromagnetic signatures of higher central nervous systems," the Blue replies in an easy voice, "more esoteric examples of Unexplained Mental Instrumentality Phenomenon do not appear to have a connection to any known physical or hyperphysical phenomenon we have the current capability to detect. We do understand the dynamics of our own 'telepathy,' although it would be more accurate to describe it as natural networking rather than the 'supernatural' UMIP connotations that the word 'telepathy' has come to connote. Our current theory to our resistance to UMIP is similar to the situation you described where large numbers of psionisists seem to interfere destructively; we believe that there is some form of inertia on whatever principle describes UMIP to which the larger the density of a given mental network, the smaller the effect of UMIP on or from that network. Individual panNorm isolated from the panNorm network appear to experience the full effect of UMIP, with the effect lessened geometrically on the size of the isolated network. When attempted against a panNorm connected to the full network, the effect is so small as to be directly qualitatively immeasurable and indirectly quantitatively insignificant, as we can only directly measure the effects of UMIP rather than the phenomenon itself."

The Auditorium

A smooth-carapaced Red with slightly less intricate insignia painted in yellow over her hard body steps up. "We completely deactivated, disengaged, and locked down the interstellar fusion ramscoop drives of Alpha after an orbital adjustment to a circular polar orbit 107 megabodlengs... 236 megameters from Eärendil's center of mass. My cousin SciCoordinator says that the tidal effect of Alpha's presence there should be about four base-ten orders of magnitude less than the third-world planet-satellite system. While still appreciable, the Eärendil ecology has not progressed to the point where a tidal change measured in millimeters should have a detrimental point, according to the EcoCoordinator.

"Alpha masses on the order of 3.5 exatons, a little less than half the mass of the sixth moon of your fifth planet... Himalia, we believe, is its standard name. It represents to the panNorm a massive wealth of processed metals whose feasibility of extraction needs to be weighed with the EcoCoordinator's desire to maintain the ecological viability of the central torus. Therefore..." The Red OverCoordinator pauses momentarily, clicking her bony manipulator claws together. "We are going to completely dissassemble the aft section of Alpha. The fusion drive that brought us from the Home Galaxy will be dismantled and cannibalized for resources for the panNorm." The word is not emphasized so much as it seems to have a slight twinge of emotion that stands out in the otherwise cold speech.

"As Beta Hive will become our primary habitat, the quarters and bays inside Alpha's hull will also be pared down to a sufficient amount to sustain 52.5 megatons of sentient biomass, approximately equivalent to about 675 million humans at a biomass of a bit over 75 kilograms each. The Engineering SubCommand predicts that we will decrease Alpha's mass by approximately fourty percent at a total yield of 1.4 exatons over the next few millenia beginning at an approximate rate of ten billion tons a year and increasing with free population of the Alpha Engineering SubCommand dedicated to cannibalization duty. Metal reclaimation will be split between the major hull and structural constituents of Alpha, those being aluminum, beryllium steel, and rodmium steel in that order; there will also be notable but relatively small reclaimations of tungsten, chromium, tin, and molybdenum. Included in the above estimates are reclaimation of the plastics, composits, and cermets that make up the majority of Alpha's conduit systems.

"This production is intentionally well above the panNorm's needs as we can barter these materials for more precious resources. That is my good cousin the AdminCoordinator's domain, however."

The EngCoordinator pauses again, another clicking of her bony claws and a wave of her antennae. "Physically, the aft spire of Alpha will slowly disintegrate and then disappear. This is the densest portion of Alpha and will probably persist for several millenia. First resource priority is to repair external rents in Alpha; second resource priority is the military; tertiary priority is to improve panNorm habitat and resource-production structures. This is important as the quarters in the aft section of the torus will essentially remain untouched except that their repair priority will become nil; they will be slowly dismantled via attrition and only thoroughly dismantled once cannibalization of the aft spire is complete.

"I've covered quite a bit of information... so, if you've any questions, please ask them."

The Auditorium

Finished, the Red OverCoordinator steps back to admit the wheelchaired Green to the fore. The Green's synthesized voice is more delicate, quieter, yet more melodious and speaks with an even serenity... which seems to have an extremely subtle undertone of self-superiority. "I am the EcoCoordinator, responsible for balancing the ecosystems of Beta and Alpha Hives into a coherent and stable harmony. A most delicate manipulator is needed for this,m but it is something my sisters have... grown into over the past few thousand millenia." A soft chuckle.

"Most of our biomatter comes either from the Eärendil joint habitability modification project or from adaptations of Alpha Hive material. Having lost the skills in direct genetic manipulation that our forebears once had, plus the most unfortunate fact that our biomatter is wholly unrelated to Solar biomatter above the protein level, we have slowly adapted what we could through eugenics and breeding practices. Alpha Hive's lifeforms fall into three major habitability niches--the Ring Plain, the Low-G Terraces, and the Zero-G Core. Those animals that evolved to live best at the Ring Plain's 1.4 times Terrestrial gravity have turned out to be the easiest to adapt to life on Eärendil. They make up the primary biomatter in the underground facilities dedicated to such things.

"However, we have discovered that a form of long-bladed grass ground cover of the Low-G Terraces appears to be best suited for ground cover on Eärendil. We are just now beginning test plantings as the atmosphere constituents are just now entering the acceptable levels for the species we have adapted from it. These plants have the added benefit of acting as sulfur scrubbers and so will speed the process of making Eärendil perfectly habitable. While you endoskeletals may get around by covering your multipurpose breathing-eating head orifices, we need more... substantial gear to cover our active spiracles. As such, the surface is still quite hostile to us without full environment suits.

"The Zero-G biomatter has been the most difficult to adapt. Mostly it is a simple matter of adapting Spherical Sea animals to Eärendil's oceans, although this has only been done with the express permission of the Menelmacari."

The Green pauses for a moment, antennae waving. "The current sentient biomass of the panNorm is somewhere around 268 billion kilograms. Thus, we have a population of three trillion 129 billion individuals. All but a bit under two billion are Minis, who act as technicians and would hardly make an effective army. The panNorm variations from greatest to least in terms of biomass are Minis, Reds, Blues, and Greens; there are actually more Blues as their average biomass per individual is one-fifth less than that of Reds.

"As it is, we have quite the excess of Minis, especially now that we no longer need to maintain the delicate control components of our fusion transit drives. As such, we are willing to trade our excess organic resources for other resources we need. If you are interested, or have any questions, feel free to voice them."

And so they were given clearance and allowed to land, finally being greeted by the Blue SciCoordinator, her name no more than a title and the number 50945.
Aidean was somewhat changed from the last time anyone outside the capital had seen him. Not that the Ants would know that, though. He wore a pitch black cape over a singlesuit of navy-blue velvet, with silver gloves and boots. The former veil was replaced by a silvery-grey skintight covering his neck and skull with a slight bulge where a wirestrip between the tactile feedback, computer, and power units and the oral/visual unit was concealed. The remains of the veil were suspended from form-fitting wrap-around sunglasses, effectively shielding every bit of skin surface area from light. A small red LED blinked in the upper left-hand corner.

Keíd, on the other hand, had little more than a blue table-cloth-looking-thing draped over hir back, the edges billowing as air entered and exited hir spiracles. A small section of silicon-fiber exocranium was replaced with sheet metal, out of which ran a wirestripdown the back of his long, thin thorax, disapearing under the cape. The insectile alien buzzed his wings, causing the cape to flutter, as the two approached.

The two creatures positively glowed in the short-wave radio spectrum, and tiny snatches of their own conversation provided a gentle background hum as Aidean said, but did not speak, Greetings. What a strange universe this is, that I might live on Earth but eleven years since we met you, while time stretches to centuries in the Void.

With Ma-Tek In Transport Car

"While we have found some slight correlation between various forms of telepathy and empathy and electromagnetic signatures of higher central nervous systems," the Blue replies in an easy voice, "more esoteric examples of Unexplained Mental Instrumentality Phenomenon do not appear to have a connection to any known physical or hyperphysical phenomenon we have the current capability to detect. We do understand the dynamics of our own 'telepathy,' although it would be more accurate to describe it as natural networking rather than the 'supernatural' UMIP connotations that the word 'telepathy' has come to connote. Our current theory to our resistance to UMIP is similar to the situation you described where large numbers of psionisists seem to interfere destructively; we believe that there is some form of inertia on whatever principle describes UMIP to which the larger the density of a given mental network, the smaller the effect of UMIP on or from that network. Individual panNorm isolated from the panNorm network appear to experience the full effect of UMIP, with the effect lessened geometrically on the size of the isolated network. When attempted against a panNorm connected to the full network, the effect is so small as to be directly qualitatively immeasurable and indirectly quantitatively insignificant, as we can only directly measure the effects of UMIP rather than the phenomenon itself."
>snip<

"How very interesting," Rialla notes quietly, glancing at Semir in that subliminal way again, before going on. "I presume that when you speak of more 'esoteric' forms of... UMIP... you refer to things such as clairvoyancy, and the ridiculous claims of some Sentients - those who claim to speak to the dead. We don't associate those with 'pathing and telekinesis. We have also conducted studies regarding such matters - those esoteric forms, I mean."

The black-uniformed man smiles faintly. "Hogwash, I must say. Perhaps the individuals in question are what we call Charismatics - persons who are strong broadcast empaths, who seem to generally broadcast positive emotions rather than negative ones. This allows them to convince those who are weakened to the idea already, I suppose. Perhaps they are also weak telepaths, and as such, can detect faint wisps of the thoughts of others - and this is there 'talking to the dead'. They probably merely 'speak' to the memories of the dead in the minds of those who they make the contact in the name of."

He pauses, scratches his chin elegantly. "Clairvoyancy, however, is a bit tougher to define. Perhaps there is something going on there; perhaps not. It doesn't seem to matter very much; if clairvoyancy does exist, it's not accurate enough to be useful and should probably be ignored... in my opinion, that is."

With EniqcirGreetings. What a strange universe this is, that I might live on Earth but eleven years since we met you, while time stretches to centuries in the Void.Oddly enough, the Blue OverCoordinator gives preference to Aidean. Ancient hatreds and laws die hard, and even if the Old Prime Directive has existed only in history books for four hundred years... it still resonates slightly as the traditional cause of racism among the panNorm. Humanoids were obviously not deviants from the Norm, but the Gurlanai... they were similiar enough, and yet different...

There was a time where the appearance of the Gurlanai would bring about a choked, spitting apoplexy of shock followed by zealous attempts at eradication... yet the panNorm have been improving for a few centuries. Now, it's simply a quiet avoidance of sight, a special guardedness in speech. "Yes," the Blue replies, "that is most odd. However, it still appears to be internally consistent and thus it is just another curiosity for us to study further."

With Ma-Tek"Clairvoyancy, however, is a bit tougher to define. Perhaps there is something going on there; perhaps not. It doesn't seem to matter very much; if clairvoyancy does exist, it's not accurate enough to be useful and should probably be ignored... in my opinion, that is.""Your assumption is mildly innacurate, but it is not of much import--again, we are studying such phenomenon as we can but it seems highly unlikely that we can utilize it." The synthesized voice sounds a bit cooler, perhaps mildly yet politely uninterested.

The Auditorium

Next up is the SciCoordinator, whose presentation is rather dry and... scientific. It is, however, short. In summary, the primary concentration of the panNorm since the end of the Succession Wars, other than making Venus more inhabitable, is the expansion and improvement of their proprietary tesseract jump drive technology that they invented quite some time ago. With experience and improvement, the drives are now relatively inexpensive and are the primary motive system of their ships. A slight adaptation that uses the Seinki gravity wave effect to not completely open a wormhole acts as a reactionless drive system, except that it is not as effective as the gravitic drives used by many other powers. Fine maneuvering is still accomplished with reaction control thrusters of high-impulse hypergolic chemical fuels. Defense technology is an improvement upon S-14's electromagnetic micrometeorite and radiation shield, allowing essentially for 'energy-reactive armor' that dissipates the concentration of inbound energy on the usual wavicle principle. Given the situation of the system, advances in defense technology were necessary and the tesseract drive was adapted to it in the form of wavefront weaponry. By using constant energy into a modified tesseract drive, electrical energy in a large cone-shaped volume of space is sifted into points of high and low voltage that surpass the permittivity of the vacuum (directly modifying the value would be more difficult) and then cause these charges to vary causing intense electromagnetic fluxes--essentially a wide-beam electromagnetic pulse weapon where insulation is useless (as the effect actually occurs from space distortion itself) and thus only systems built internally hardened are resistant.

(OOC: Backtracking just a bit, sorry I didn't post this yesterday)

"I have a question," says Vetinari, raising his hand. "As I understand, individual minis not quite sentient in and of themselves. How much training would they require to learn to fix other technology that they haven't had tens of thousands of years to get used to? Will trained minis pass on their knowledge to new minis that may be, um, purchased?" He pauses, then adds, "Oh, and will the minis still be capable of reproduction?"

---

{'Now'}

Hmmm, that weapon would be brutally effective against fighter groups. Especially since most small craft don't have internal shielding to save on mass.'

(OOC: Not a problem)"I have a question," says Vetinari, raising his hand. "As I understand, individual minis not quite sentient in and of themselves. How much training would they require to learn to fix other technology that they haven't had tens of thousands of years to get used to? Will trained minis pass on their knowledge to new minis that may be, um, purchased?" He pauses, then adds, "Oh, and will the minis still be capable of reproduction?"The Mini OverCoordinator steps forward in her robotic walker. "We are sentient 'in and of ourselves,' but admittedly simple. If there is a basic pattern of stimulus, then we respond with an equally basic pattern. We are not exactly creative, but if we are exposed to new equipment, we are very adaptive. This is what allowed my sisters to do so well with the Sakkrans."

The idea of Minis being 'purchased' doesn't seem to faze the TechCoordinator in the slightest. "We breed like anyone else; the Mothers lay eggs that become drones. We are only considering trading drones at the moment. If population expansion projections indicate we need less Mothers, then we can trade them too for continuing exchanges of resources. If we have a plethora of one thing and can trade for another, then we can trade plentiful organic resources in terms of infertile drones for less plentiful resources."

It felt different to be amongst people who did not wish to be scanned, subconsciously or not, Rialla mused. Nenyans were, in fact, singuarly incapable of blocking themselves - this meant that Rialla, Semir, and the two RISE operatives, S-3 and S-4 (although they would be known under different names here, of course) were actively and consciously working to block the instinctive 'sensing' of the others.

The result was quite uncomfortable; Rialla felt half-blind, half-deaf, and as if her sense of touch was terribly muted. Being an exceptionally minor telekinetic - although her tutor had warned that the ability was known to be wildly variable, and could amplify at a future point - Rialla was aware of objects at a greater level than most. Her minor talent in this area was simple: she could feel wood, metal, any material - and find imperfections. In the past, she would likely have been a craftswoman of some sort: her ability to understand the materials she worked with at an innate and instinctive level had indeed pushed her grades higher in areas to do with building things.

As such, she had forged her own weapons - under the strict supervision of the Royal Armourer.

But even the telekinetic was blocked. The only type of block was a blanket one - so she could not even fully feel Semir's thoughts and feelings, usually always so open to her. She felt on edge, uncomfortable, almost unhappy - and then she realised: the connection with her child was ever so slightly blunted. She felt a tiny, frightened push against her consciousness - and responded with a gentle mentalic caress. The child was still too small for her to feel movement, according to the doctors, but she was almost certain she felt the baby stir slightly inside her.

She asked quietly, "What effect would there be if we were to... not... prevent my instinctive empathy from functioning to its fullest?"

She asked quietly, "What effect would there be if we were to... not... prevent my instinctive empathy from functioning to its fullest?"
"One psionicist made contact with the panNorm gestalt in our first contact some time ago. According to the reports from the Cetagandans, her personality was completely subsumed by the Gestalt, and it took several years for her to recover from disassociative identity disorder."

Finally, the spiky red carapace of the WarCoordinator steps up. "The political situation in this system is less stable than we desire. Because of this, we have remained extremely quiet while we were still relatively defenseless. Defense of the panNorm is of supreme importance, and thus we have built up a military presence to protect Alpha and Beta Hives." The screen drops down again, displaying various images as the insectoid motions towards it with a smooth motion of its manipulator claws.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tmbinterceptor.jpg (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/interceptor.jpg)
"The primary strength of our short-range defenses consists of swarms of these Interceptors, disposable attrition small-craft mounting a single-shot capital-grade wavefront torpedo on the nose. They are quickly produced and easily maintained, and are all currently based on Alpha.

"Our force-projection will be based on the Swarms, our fleets of tesseract-powered capital ships. Six vessels make a squadron, six squadrons make a segment, six segments make a fleet, six fleets will make an overfleet."

(... more to come later ...)

"One psionicist made contact with the panNorm gestalt in our first contact some time ago. According to the reports from the Cetagandans, her personality was completely subsumed by the Gestalt, and it took several years for her to recover from disassociative identity disorder."

Semir-randil frowned slightly, but gave a meaningful glance to Rialla. "Well, I'm sure we can make do, Rialla. Can't we?" His voice is soft, gentle, when he speaks to her. It's an interesting difference; he is all calm and business when he speaks to anybody else present.

Rialla nodded slightly, but she relaxed her grip on her own abilities considerably, and felt the reassuring push of Semir's mind alongside her own. He would attempt to shield himself and herself without impeding the infant's ability to communicate with her mother; Rialla felt that it was working, but she hoped Semir wasn't taking too much on. That had sounded dangerous.

She asked quietly, trying not to allow her voice to show the concern she felt for her consort, "To whence are we headed?"

She cringed internally at the haughty styling of the sentence; she hoped it didn't come out as stuffy in their language as it would in most Human languages. She considered switching to Nenyan Common, but decided that would not be befitting her status; it would also be rude, considering the formality - or the idea of formality - behind a state visit.

She stayed with High Nenyan.

The Auditorium

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tmbvanguard-fore.jpg (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/vanguard-fore.jpg)
"The primary warship of the Swarms is the Vanguard-class heavy cruiser, equipped with a single forward wavefront weapon and several kinetics tubes, energy-reactive armor, the usual. Given that it is not overwhelmed by weapons, it is suitable for other, less violent roles.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tmbtwo-stings-fore.jpg (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/two-stings-fore.jpg)
"The Two Stings-class destroyer is intended for combat and combat alone, armed with both fore and aft wavefront weapons and the usual kinetics. It is not as well armored as the Vanguard, relying more on superior maneuverability than durability.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tmblittle-swimmer.jpg (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/little-swimmer.jpg)
"The Little Swimmer-class torpedo boat supplies our squadrons with fire support, using its four wavefront torpedo tubes--three fore, two aft--in standoff engagements. Some more kinetics, a bit of armor... more of a pivot in squadrons than a ship of the line.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tmbswift-victory-fore.jpg (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/swift-victory-fore.jpg)
"Finally, the Swift Victory-class battleship commands a segment, armed with four wavefront weapons and several tubes of kinetics on ventral and dorsal turrets.

"All of these ships are somewhat smaller than many we have seen, and this works quite well for us, given high production capacity and our standard doctrines."

Transport Car

The Blue doesn't even notice the change in grammar. "We are heading towards the auditorium where we will be reporting our current status and plans. After that, we will be open to better-informed discussion concerning our relations with others."

Transport Car

The Blue doesn't even notice the change in grammar. "We are heading towards the auditorium where we will be reporting our current status and plans. After that, we will be open to better-informed discussion concerning our relations with others."

Rialla gives a little nod, followed shortly by a small movement of her shoulders that could be a shrug, although that probably doesn't tie in with understood humanoid behaviour patterns, as she has absolutely no reason to shrug.

Semir's eyebrows tweak upwards ever so slightly, but none of the group seem very inclined to say anything more, beyond Rialla's polite, "Ah, I see. Thank you."

[OOC: *lays down trail of sugar for spacedy ants*]