NationStates Jolt Archive

Seven years prior to the Raumreich War

"Hyper emergence in thirty seconds."
A single shrill alarm sounded once throughout the ship to alert the crew, and then the Verniian Survey Vessel (VSV) Archimedes translated from the Alpha layer of hyperspace into the outskirts of the Harlan system, 22.44 LM from it's brilliant white F9 furnace.

Captain Brooks looked around the bridge at his officers. "Alright people, we're going to do the standard procedure, get to work."

The Archimedes coasted along, passive sensors scouring nearby space for any emissions signatures of other starships. More then one survey ship had been lost to pirates or privateers, and it never hurt to be cautious. Satisfied that it wouldn't be suddenly ambushed, the ship brought it's impeller nodes up and began to accelerate inward. Probes shot away from it to explore the system.

One of them, sent to the second world, found something unusual. Power signatures emanated from the second world of the system, power that shouldn't have been there. A preliminary survey mission through the outer reaches of the system had marked the system as uninhabited, and it should be. But yet it wasn't. The probe's primitive AI wasn't meant to try and figure the discrepancy out, it simply brought new sensors online, and began scanning the planet more intensely. Satisfied, it transmitted its findings back to the Archimedes, where they were diligently stored in a file by the ship's computer for later review. The Archimedes completed it's transit through the system, and hypered out for the next survey target on it's list.
-----
Survey Analyst Peter Brentworth sat at desk in Cardona University's Astrological Survery Department. His job was to sort through the tons of files that had been brought back, and mark what systems were useful for exploitation by the government or corporations. He finished with one, then flipped to the next folder, marked simply with "Harlan" on it's cover. He sighed, and flipped it open. First was the preliminary survery: Average concentration of resources in outer debris field, average concentration of metals in asteroid belt. Uninhabited. Three worlds. Damnit. It has planets, great, more work. He flipped over to the information on the first, it had a heavy metal concentration in it's surface, but pretty hot surface temperature. He filled out a form recommending it for mining. Next planet, average resources, population of 917 million, earthlike atmosphere and terr-....what the hell?

He flipped back to the preliminary, "Uninhabited". Back again to the problem world, "917 million".

"Fuck!"

Thankfully there was no one else in the office to be potentially offended by his utterance, and he turned in his chair to his computer. He accessed the main database, went to the folder for the Harlan system, copied it, and then dropped the copy into the bin to be sent to the Contact Division. It was their problem now, not his. He then went and filled out a mining recommendation for the world anyway, and continued on to the next world.
-----
One month later

A single light cruiser, VNS Lancer, dropped out of hyper on the outskirts of the Harlan system. It brought it's passive sensors up to maximum sensitivity, fired off a couple long range probes, and accelerated inward. Even though it was a warship, it carried an ambassador and his team to the planet, to establish contact with it's newly discovered inhabitants.

Mmm… caffeine.
President Willie Penn leaned back in his cushy executive chair as he sipped from an almost comically oversized mug of coffee. He had just finished a meeting with the irate members of the defense department, and there was precious little time till he had another meeting with the national board of education. Something about out of date math books. Didn’t we just update the curriculum last year? He thought to himself. None of that mattered at the moment though. It was 12:15 and for the first time since 6:00AM it was breaky time. Fifteen minutes to rest his eyes and recharge his mind. Nothing to do but…
*crackle*”Sir… I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you did I?” came his secretary’s voice from his desk intercom.
“God damn it! I mean no. What?” I hate that woman’s voice he thought to himself.
“There’s someone here to see you. A Doctor… what was your name? Oh, Dr. Joyce here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”
“Alright, send him in.” Moments late the door burst open and a shriveled wild haired old man in a lab coat burst in.
“Mister president, you have to see this!” he exclaimed and threw a manilla folder on Penn’s desk. The folder opened to reveal several blurry pictures with even blurrier white dots in the center.
“Uh… what am I looking at here?” Penn asked.
“We believe that to be the light emitted from an exit from hyper space.” He waited for Penn to respond. When the response didn’t come he elaborated. “It occurred just outside of our solar system.” More blanks stares. “Space ships Mr. President.”
Coffee sprayed from Penn’s mouth. “Holy shit! Do you think it’s coming here?”
“Well I can only assume so. I don’t know where else it could be heading.”
“Oh God… I gotta go. Uh, thank you very much Mr. Jeff.”
“Joyce.”
“Whatever. Please leave you name and contact number with my secretary.” With that, he snatched the cell phone off of his desk and sprinted out the front door. “Hello, Steve? Yeah, we need a welcoming party. Listen, don’t ask anymore questions, just get the party and get a helicoptor. I’ll send you further instructions.

Ten minutes later, the streets of county Nicholas, near the Senate house

“What do you mean you can’t find any guns!” Andy Smith was at the end of his rope. “But you already have the Guardsmen. Don’t they have guns?” he screamed into the phone. “Fine, just give me a little while.”*click* I hate this job he thought to him self. Apparently, internship for the federal marshalls wasn’t as glamorous as one might think. With a small exertion of will power, he dragged himself to the local police precinct. Without so much as a smile he drudged up to the front desk and flashed his credentials. “Marshall business, I need twelve guns. Preferably matching.”
“Afraid we’re fresh out Hun.” The receptionist responded.
“Fresh out?!” Andy yelled indignantly, “This is a police station!”
“We’re using them all. Maybe if you government boys’d give us a little more funding we wouldn’t have this problem.” Andy shook his head in frustration.
“Do you have any thing wee could use? Anything at all?”
“Well… I’ll have to check with the Captain.” Ten minutes later, Andy strode out in victory with twelve Illegal AK-47 Kalishnikovs in tow.

Thirty minutes later, at the helipad in Fort Bragg, county Nicholas

“Oh, gees, Steve, I can’t thank you enough.” Steve McKween’s competence always took the edge off of situations like this. He had been President Penn’s trusted advisor and “fixer” since the beginning of his political career. He was a former senator and military man who had amassed many “connections” throughout the system. If you needed an audience with someone, he could get it for you. If you needed twelve Guardsmen in full dress, one ambassador and a military helicopter, no questions asked, he could do that too, assuming you happened to be the president.
“No problem Bill. Anything for my country.” McKween replied half sarcastically.
“Any who, I’ve gotta get back to the office, but I’ll phone you the coordinates and more information as soon as I get it.” And with that President Penn ran his fingers through his hair, and hurried off to his limo.

This is what the full-dress guardsmen look like more or less.Guardsmen (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v370/jinx164/pd10.jpg)

VNS Lancer slid smoothly into orbit over the newly discovered blue and green world.
"No sign of any starships? At all?"
"No Sir."
Commander Oles, CO of Lancer, sighed. "God, we could conquer them without firing a shot. Mr. Ambassador, would you explain why we're here again?"

Ambassador Stephan expression took on a look of annoyance. "I am here because the government feels it would be appropriate to deal with another nation besides in the manner we used at Madras." He ignored the angry glare from Oles at the mention of that debacle. Oles had been dropped off in Gregor in a shuttle by the Valinor Star Armada, to inform his own government of the stomping Commodore Heathman's squadron had received. "Is my cutter ready?"

"Yes, the techs have finished prepping it for launch. We've identified an aerospace port just outside of what we presume to be their capital city."

"Good, I'll be landing immediately." God I hope they're human, or at least look like it, Stephan thought but didn't add.
---
The ventral boat bay of cruiser slid open, and the small white cutter dropped out of it. Its nose moved downward toward the planet, and it began a slow and careful descent toward the port, making it's landing site clear to whatever authorities were undoubtably watching.

"We're expecting company. Go to procedure un-sign-feign." The Voice said over the phone.
"Right. Man this is crazy." replied the Airport Director. He hung up the phone and switched on the intercom. “Attention all airport passengers. All outgoing flights will be temporary delayed…” A strobe search light was inconspicuously placed at the end of runway 3B.

“We have a landing sight. Have the ‘home team’ positioned at the head of runway 3B. that’s where they should end up.” The President closed the line with Steve, and crossed himself. “Oh lord, please don’t let us get invaded.”

The cutter circled the port twice, spotted the landing light, and glided in for a smooth landing, coming to a stop at the end of the runway. A few moments paused for dramatic effect, and a landing ramp descended from its belly. Four figures marched out, carrying pulser rifles and wearing black dress uniforms with red collars and cuffs. Appearances can be deceiving though, each was made of a synthetic fabric tough enough to provide limited protection against bullets and shrapnel. Following behind them, came a grey haired man wearing a black business suit and carrying a brief case. After him came two other men and one woman, also wearing business suits. The grey haired man looked around at whatever delegation awaited him.

"Greetings. Please take me to your leader." He smiled wryly.

Ambassador Howard Connoly, a short grey-haired man in a loose tie and rolled up sleeves, strode up to the new arrivals followed by two single file lines of guardsmen. He extended his hand and said, “Hello, my name is Connoly, nice to meet you and glad to see you don’t have tentacles. I can most certainly arrange for you to meet with the president, but… not with those rifles. You understand right?”

I sit here, waiting. Waiting. Waiting. We have only had to Starburst through about three systems so far, but it seems as though we've been journeying for years. I sit in my quarters staring blankly at the door. Waiting. Suddenly the door springs to life, sliding to one side. “Sir?” The young lad greets me. “We’re preparing for final Starburst in a moment. If you would follow me to Yacht.”

You see, we are not on a ship of the Sultanate, we are on a craft constructed, owned, and operated by TiberCorp. I have been assigned as Official Liaison to the beautiful, young Miss Samantha. She has no last name, nor a first one. Only Samantha. She is identified by the name of her house, The house of the Setting Star, for she belongs to one of the old families of True Hope. A niece, by marriage, to Constantine Tiberious III himself, she holds both the powers of her family and his.

“Oh of course.” I say gently as I stand from my desk and exit the room. The exquisite marble halls of the ship shine like mirrors, trimmed in Cherry wood. I do say that if the Sultan’s ships were in such condition, our population would flock to join the navy.

As we walk down the hall we pass the room of Samantha. The doors are sealed, but I can almost smell the perfumes and oils flowing. I pause for a moment, slowly close my eyes and inhale every bit of this imaginary smell. It consumes me and an overwhelming feeling that indeed, all things are as they should be... or as I would want them to be, anyhow. I soon realize that I’ve fallen behind and have a quick jog to catch up with my guide.

We arrive at the Yacht and I take my seat in a what could be called a living room, complete with couches, a large television, coffee table, and even a fireplace. The room is cozy, but not “small.” I sit for a few moments, observing my surrounding until the door comes to life, sliding to one side. Behind it is Samantha. Long, white, pristine furs flow down her body, all on top of a white robe trimmed in small amounts of gold, which shines from the light above. Her face, soft and beautiful, glowing much like the gold trim; crowned with yet more white. For her hair flowed as pure as rivers of heaven itself; white yet shining like silver. Her gentle curves slowly move across the room. Elegant.

She is followed by her usual band of scantily clad men, whose lack of brain is made up for heavily in physique. She sits on the couch across from that of mine, sitting directly in the center, so that her concubines may surround her. She sits, legs together; never crossed. Her gentle gaze pouring upon the harem. Her hands light and daintily, stoke the chin of the man on her left. A smirk appears on her cheeks and her eyes close a bit. The smell of perfumes and oils begins to overpower me once again.

“Oh Felix. If you let your jaw hang any lower I’ll have to come over there and shut it for you.” She says, her words floating across the small room like a gentle breeze. She continues to stroke the chin of her favorite for the moment.

Embarrassed, I shut my mouth and then open it again to speak, “What do you expect of these people?” I inquired to change the current issue.

“Primitive. We’ll offer them a few shiny buttons and they’ll be in the palm of our hand.”

“We’re lucky you’re father is doing the negotiating. With that attitude we’d be exiled for sure.”

“Oh, I kid, Colonel. They say you age quickly without a sense of humor.“

“Of course, Samantha.” I say as I reach for the bottle of scotch.

She smiles at me for a moment before commenting, “Samuel, why must you wear that drab black uniform. You look positively villainous.”

“I’m an officer of The Liberation, not your uncle. Besides, I think it looks quite stylish.“ She rolls her eyes, “and I suggest you change your focus from fashion to your father‘s work on this planet. You‘re hear to learn.” Buy this time she is too busy playing with her “friends” to listen to anything I might have to say.

A voice then comes over the intercom: “We are now entering the system, asking for permission to land.” I assume the pilots have sent the message but go to verify communications for myself. I reach the cockpit and inquire.

“Any response from the planet?”

One pilot turns around, removing one headphone, “No, sir. Still waiting.”

(Edit: I've changed to Farscape Tech for my engines a while ago but forgot about it, sorry)

"Hyper-transit!"
Cmdr. Oles' mind snapped back to attention, "What is it?"
"Unknown ship just came out of hyper in the outer reaches of the system. It's still too far out to get any sensor readings on it."
Things can never go simply, can they?
---
"Well, we won't take them into the presence of the President, but my guards must come with me, although they could just wait outside his office/throne room/whatever, if that's alright."

“Oh, of course, of course. Can’t be too safe away from home can you?” This is going to be a problem Connoly thought. The Presidential guard service is more than adequately prepared to handle four armed men, no matter what kind of guns they where carrying, but safety wasn’t exactly what he was worried about. The media is going to have a field day with this. Between the two of us we have a small armed militia marching up the capitol steps. “Well, If you’ll come with me we have two limousines waiting. Well phone ahead, and make sure everything is prepared.”

Moments later, the Presidential Office,

*brrring* The bright red telephone connected to the presidents emergency contact line sprang to life.
“Yello, President speaking. Please give me some good news.”
“E.T. is in the wagon and headed toward the castle.” The voice stated, matter-o-factly.
“Tentacles?”
“No sir. Humanoid.”
“Oh, thank god.”
“They requested an audience with you. They have four armed guards who they refuse to go without, but they at least agreed to keep them out of your office. Traffic permitting, they will be here in 20 minutes.”
“Alright thanks. I’ll be ready.” Penn hung up the phone and let slip a huge sigh of relief. He then happened a glance down at the tie dye shirt he had been wearing since after lunch. “Fuck.”

Several Days before

Dominion Intelligence Agency
General Division

Miguel Fern, sat at his desk, thumbing through the most recent reports from the general intelligence staff. Hidden amongst the usual run of commercial espionage, and miscellaneous information, he found one report labelled "urgent".
Strange he thought, It's just a commercial report on a survey mission. He began to read the report and about half way down his eyes went wide with the words INHABITED!
He cursed loudly, and dialled up his superior...

******

After the report made it's way up the chain of command and a decision was made, a message went out to the Valinor ambasador to Falasmayon, with a copy of the report attached. Along with the message was an invitation to join in a joint diplomatic mission to the newly discovered planet.

The Imperial Palace was eerily quiet, few now remained in the halls that had once been so alive during the reigns of Old Emperor Gustav I and Emperor Rowald. Now few but the Gehns, the Sovereign Protectors, the Myrmidons, and a few scattered courtiers joined the two remaining Aldermans in their ancestral home.
Count Viktor Leopold walks stiffly with age next to Duke Leo Sterling, the two are being led by one of the numerous servant Gehn family along one of the grand corridors leading to the gardens outside of the Palace. The pair step out into the balmy air during the first days of a Proximan spring. Surprisingly enough, Sterling recognizes the path leads to the pond surrounded by cherry trees, just now in blossom. A place favored by Gustav I, Sterling wonders what draws the Old Emperor's more blunt grandson here.
"Do you have the report, Viktor?" Sterling says, using the patient tones he always uses with the aged First Minister of Foreign Affairs.
"Report?" Leopold says quizzically.
"From the Falas?"
"Oh...yes," he fumbles in his great coat and pulls out a data disc. "Here it is."
"Good," Sterling sees Gustav II standing on the bridge over the large, crystal clear pond. A retreating woman's figure is disappearing down another fragmented stone path, and Sterling shudders as he recognizes Josephine Alderman's arrogant walk.
Gustav II turns, electric blue eyes focusing on Sterling, resting only a moment on Leopold.
"Your Majesty," Sterling says with a deep bow.
"...Your Majesty," Leopold says a few moments later.
Gustav II makes a motion and the two rapidly stand, "You bring word from the Falas?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Leopold says fumbling with the data card for a moment, and finally manages to put it into the compact comp-pad he carries. He offers it to Gustav II.
Gustav II nods and begins to study the carefully worded Falas report. The returns his gaze to Sterling and Leopold.
"Send the Falas my personal thanks and get an appropriate representation together. Haste is important, no doubt the Verniians will be on their way as well. Coordinate with Sir Forrest and have an appropriate escort force detached."
"Yes, Your Majesty," the two say and bow again.
Sterling is for one glad to be out of Gustav II's immediate presence, the "recently" crowned Emperor is far too cold and odd for even his taste.
"That went well," Sterling says to Leopold.
"What went well?"
"The meeting."
"Oh," Leopold looks quizzical. "What was I supposed to see to again?"
"Do not worry about it, old friend. I am sure that Lady Rolt will be able to assist you."
"Ah, that is good. I've also lost my spectactles you see," Sterling does not bother to tell the Count that his oft-lost spectactles ride in the breast pocket of his vest under his great coat.

After a few hours of coordination between the two governments, a plan wa decided upon. The Verniians could nt be allowed to dominate this newcomer to the galactic community, so a diplomatic mission wa readied and sent within hours. The FDCV [/i]Parler[/i] was dispatched to Alpha Centauri in the company of 2 L. Cruisers, tomeet with the Valinor members of the mission.

The heavy cruiser Merlin and a pair of destroyers, the HMS Dagger and the HMS Electra, wait for the Falas delegation and their escort along with the diplomatic vessel the HMS Chancellor. They ride in the open space of Alpha Centauri, only eight hundred thousand kilometers from the wormhole terminus that links Alpha Centauri to the Vakutu, codenamed Cronos, system.
Count Leopold has dispatched the capable Lady Diedre Rolt to be the primary Valinor representative of the Star Empire to the newly discovered "government." She waits calmly in the luxurious confines of the Chancellor, and listens with half an ear to the approaching steps of a crewman.
"My Lady, the Merlin has confirmed the arrival of the Falas ships from the Archangel system. We will rendezvous with them in eight minutes, and discuss when we wish to finalize our departure."
"Good. It will be most interesting to see who the High Dominion is sending to system RE-133."

Connaly led the procession to the capitol steps and through the front door. The cameras where already gathering. This was going to be front page news tomorrow morning, but right now that didn’t matter.

“Right this way gentlemen.” Connaly quipped, trying to sound enthused. After an obscenely long walk through the federal office building, the party arrived at the Presidential office. The door was opened and they all crowded into what most senators affectionately referred to as the “Presidential Waiting Room”. Connaly walked up and whispered something to Vanessa the receptionist, who in turn, tapped a button on her desk franticly. Whatever that button did, it must have been doing it well because moments later Penn burst through the door to his office just as he buttoned the jacket to his black pinstriped suit.

“How do you do gentlemen,” he extended his hand to the Verniian ambassador, “my name is President William Penn, and on behalf of the people of Newlin, I’d like to welcome you to the Harlan Union. Now what can I do for you?”

"And I am Ambasador Peter Stephan, representing the People's Republic of Vernii." Stephan grasped the President's hand in return and shook it politely. "I am here to welcome you to the regional stellar community on behalf of Vernii."

Penn was taken aback for a moment. Still within the foreign embassadors handshake, he blinked and replied "I apreciate that very much, but... what steller community would that be?" Since their ancestors arrived here in what could only be described as "quite some time ago" Newlinians and Fineganians had yet to leave the solar system.

"That would be the Raumreich Oversector, the region of space your star system is located in. We discovered your existence after a survery vessel making a routine survey of this system discovered that your world had life on it."

"Ah I see, very interesting. So this 'Rom-rike Ubersector' does it include many other populated Worlds? while we where aware of the other planets in our solar system we have yet to get too terribly far out, and as you imagine, the 'is anyone out there' weighs heavily on certain peoples minds. Personaly I'd just be glad to finaly have something to present to those people that think the government is hideing something from them."

"Yes, there are dozens of populated systems, my government for example, controls three systems, and around three billion people. The GSA is made up five systems, then there are the other empires, like the Star Empire of Valinon, Boroglia, the Vaku, and New Ortaga."

"Ah, excelent. Will any of the rest of them be sending representitives? We would be remissed not to introduce ourselves to the rest of 'la familia'. I imagine this is going to be monopolizing the news for the next few weeks eh?"

"Well, possibly. We haven't alerted any other governments as far as I know, and you should hope the Ortagans never find out. They won't exactly bring a housewarming gift..."

"I see... you wouldn't mind elaborating would you? I'd like to be informed if there is reason to fear these Ortagans. Imperialists I assume?"

"Orbital nuking is standar operating procedure for them. And really, is imperialism all that bad? Every government in the region is to some extent. With a few exceptions, it's been a positive influence in the region, particularly for economic and industrial growth."

"Yes well..." William adjusted his tie a bit. "So orbital Nukes you say? Isn't that a bit extreme? Either way, I imagine it would be good policy to stay out of whatever military conflict they happen to be in. Just for safty's sake, who are they warring with?"

“Keep transmitting,” I ordered, hands placed firmly upon the back of the pilot’s seat. The soft leather smooth against my hands.

The pilot leans over to his Comm. station and continues to broadcast down to the planet on all frequencies. “Harlan Union, this is the TCC Tanzir asking permission to land. Do you read?”

While one pilot transmits, the other keeps his attention on the controls while reporting to me, “Fighter Escorts are requesting authorization to lift Black Blanket.”

I briefly had a vision of the Verniian‘s response, “Denied. No need to scare anyone down on the surface.” I respond.

“Yes sir”

I then went back through the door and found Samantha’s father, Julian (IV to be exact), sorting through some papers as he walked down the small hallway. At a glance one couldn’t tell he is old at all. His face is hardly wrinkled and his mannerisms are quite youthful, but he was nearing one hundred. “Hello, sir.” I casually say as he passes.

“Oh? You mean that? What are you getting to? Huh? I didn’t do a damn thing to that little girl!”

Confusion running rampant in my mind, a few words stumble out of my mouth, “... Um.. I didn’t say anything, Julian...”

“Oh... yes... of course... now good day. I have much work to do.” His eyes shifting from left to right he walks down the hall, back hunched over his work.

I always knew the old fool had been a bit paranoid, but now it seems to be effecting his work, but this is the last of my worries. When the Verniians find out we’ve been tracking their survey vessels (and they will), they won’t be too pleased. Aside from that, Lord Hudan can’t touch a noble like Julian, but if this mission goes wrong I’ll be on the top of his “Things To Behead” list. If the House of the Setting Star can’t pull this one off, then I’ll have to, and all I know about negotiating is where to aim and what caliber to use.

(OOC: Newlin, the "surface" that I'm broadcasting to is yours and I'm hoping you'll be recieving my messages soon, sorry for any confusion.)

OOC: Welcome to the region newlin, i suppose im one of ur neigbors to the southwestish a bit.

Barnett System
Ticonderoga Fleet Base
Forward Outpost of the Commonwealth Navy
35Ly from Cronos

Just a year previous to this date the Barnett system was only populated by the Canella mining guild. Its pair of plantiods were heavily mined for the valuable ore they contained. There were numerous ore process stations and storage fields scattered throughout the system and besides a squadron of destroyers it was a relatively empty system. All of that was in the past however as the Commonwealth Navy deiced to turn the system into a major fleet base for future operations into Cronos.

A large fortress and fleet repair base and numerous shipyards were being construction and an entire Taskforce protected the system including a Lance of the Wall.

OOC:This is just to get my foot in the door when vernii tells me you around and if theres some sort of i dontknow a conference ill have a place to join from. Also my nation is allied with Vernii just so u know.

Andy Smith was haveing a bad day. He absolutly hated being an erand boy, especialy for a government agency. He actualy loathed most of the hours he spent awake. The only time from which he derived any enjoyment was his (usualy belated) lunch break. And that was now. He leaned the seat in his car back, fliped on the radio, and took a bite of his sandwich. This is Dirk Zigler and you're listening to Top 45 Hits! where we play all your favorite... *KERSHSHSHSHS*“Harlan Union, this is the TCC Tanzir asking permission to land. Do you read?” At that moment Andy had the same reaction as every other government employee in the tri-city area including the postal workers. From space you could hear a loud, harmonious, resounding "Oh fuck"

"uh... TCC Tanzer, this is Newlin International Airport, you are clear to land." The Airport general manager flicked two switches on his intercom. "Jim go to 'un-sein feign' again and get... somebody on the line." The manager flicked the switch off and immediatly threw down two asprin.

"Colonel Doltzworth, Please report to the cockpit immediately." I heard over the intercom. I then hurried back to the small room, hoping to hear the best of news... hoping.

The pilot greets me with a look and continues with "Colonel we've recieved a response from the government, and we can land. Looks like we were recieved on all channels, too."

I let out a short cackle. "Conny* always said, 'If mass chaos doesn't ensue, the ad's not working.'"

"Yea, and if we don't sell any industrial goods we'll make a killing on 'I was there when the aliens landed' T-shirts." the pilot jests.

I laughed again and we continued our course toward the planet. We were nearing our destination, so I decided to go freshen up before the landing.

*(OOC: LNH nickname for Constantine Tiberius III, Kind of like "Ike" or "Monty")