NationStates Jolt Archive

Nirako cursed quietly as he looked over his ship's status. He was fortunate enough to be part of the main fleet that was transformed at Tyr, but the fleet was withdrawn to secure the rest of Muktari territory. He was worried he would be left behind, but managed to get picked up in the wake of a Heathen enetering the Warp. Through mishap, however, he only rode the wake for so long and was forced out in the Sol system, recognized since he was now in a miraculous orbit over Jupiter.
Life support was stable. That meant he could go for a few hours. Engines were out, and shields were only at enough strength the deflect minor debris. The communicator and weapons were out to, but the distress beacon was functional. Flipping it on, he prayed to Slaanesh that he would be able to see his home suffused with his god's presence.

{internal_comm}
:
> Object detected coming out of warped space. Currently in orbit around Jupiter
:
# Designation?
:
> Flight signature and occupancy suggests Class 2 single fighter.
:
# Understood.
:
> Anything else?
:
# Matter does not concern us. Do nothing unless it becomes a threat to our Jupiter interests.
:
> Affirmative.
:
{internal_comm_end}

A private merchant vessel registered out of the Socialist Republic of Xanthal changes course and responds to the signal. "We read your distress and will assist however we can. ETA to your position is ten minutes; please advise on your status."

Nirako grinned, as at least the receiving aspect of his communicator was functional. He may not be able to speak directly, but maybe morse code would still work.Voice Com out, but receiver functional. Engines and Weapons out. Shields minimal. Life support currently stable. Requesting pickup.

The response is quick. "Acknowledged. Prepare for docking upon our arrival." The merchant ship, a variant of the Sazoil Class, moves into range and begins doing what scans it can on the small crippled vessel.

Nirako nodded and double-checked all of his straps to make sure he was secure, then noticed his orbit was beginning to deteriorate. He grinned though, as he noticed a ship, presumably the ship coming to help him, on his barely functional scanner.

The Xanthalian vessel's captain, satisfied that docking can be carried out successfully, opts for an internal dock to minimize risk. They synchronize their orbital motion with the smaller craft and slowly close the distance, bringing it into a rear cargo area. The entire process takes about fifteen minutes. When it's all over, the foreign vessel is sitting in the middle of an empty cargo bay, about 60x30x30 meters. Once atmosphere and normal gravity are re-established the captain, and two crewmembers armed with handheld energy weapons, enter through a side airlock and approach the ship.

Seeing the approaching trio, Nirako checked to see if his hatch would open. The vacuglass slid back steadily, and Nirako stood up in his seat, holding his hands as to show he was unarmed.

"Thanks for the pickup. I am Nirako, of the Slaaneshi Theocracy of Muktar."

His attire was evidense enough of his case. Black leather jacket and pants over a dark blue shirt, piercings all over his face, elbow pads and greaves with symbols of Slaanesh in dark purple, and half his head was clean shaved of pale blue dyed hair. Although he had a hip holster, it was visibly empty.

The captain walks the last few meters to Nirako, the other two remaining on guard. He is a short man, just over five feet, human. He speaks excellent Galactic Standard and uses contractions, a good indication that he is a Trasnia native. "I apologize for our caution, but this is an unarmed merchant vessel, and we must be vigilant in these situations. I am Feshnal Dilla, commanding officer of this vessel. You are aboard the New October, a vessel owned and operated by Tindman Galactic Transportation Company. I don't believe I've heard of your nation, Nirako. If you'll please follow me to the command deck, we'll see what we can do about getting you home." The captain leads the way, followed by his guest and two guards.

Nirako nods as he gets out of his Penetrator, walking along a curved wing before hopping off the tip. As he follows his hosts, he begins to explain the situation.

"It isn't unreasonable that you wouldn't be familiar with Muktar. Up until about an hour ago, it was just an isolationist confederacy of systems a little clockwise from Sol. However, Slaanesh was infused into most of the nation after a mishap fighting Chronosia. My ship fell out of Warp space on the way back and that's how I wound up here."

The captain nods. "A conflict, eh? Well, if you were engaged in combat we won't be able to bring you home directly. The Xanthalian government will have to arrange for your transportation to ensure that all diplomatic considerations are made." The group arrives on the bridge after a short walk and turbolift trip. The captain moves to his seat at the back of the command center, addressing the crew. "Resume course to Trasnia VI and inform the government that we have rescued a combatant in distress in the Sol System." He works on his computer console for a moment as the crew goes to work, then dismisses the guards and motions the foreigner forward, pointing to his screen, which is displaying a star map. "Find your home here for me. The Xanthalian government will want to know where to deliver you."

Nirako nodded as he quickly pointed out the Muktar System using Sol as a reference point. It's relatively close to Sol, clockwise and outward according to the galactic rotation.

"There's a beacon device in my cockpit in a compartment inside the left armrest. If you activate it, it lets nearby Muktari vessels know that one of their own are on board. The conflict is over after the mishap, so diplomatic preparations shouldn't be an issue."

The captain nods. "Is it active now?"

Nirako shook his head, holding his left arm stiffly.

"I didn't know if you were going to be helpful or hostage takers, and we aren't supposed to activate until we know. It still needs to be turned on. It's a simple blue disc with a quarter colored purple, the button to turn on the signal saying friendly with Muktari passanger is the button on the quarter. Avoid the one opposite it, that's hostage."

The captain considers this, then shakes his head. "I'd rather not start broadcasting a message to your people without government authorization. Xanthal has very strict procedures for diplomatic incidents such as this. All starship commanders are required to pass a test on the subject. In a nutshell, all the answers are 'inform the government and let the authorities handle it.' Besides, no one will be coming for you while we're in planespace." Almost on que, the ship passes through the Sol Sord and the external viewscreen at the front of the bridge goes white, showing off-color energy ribbons occasionally traversing its field of vision. The captain addresses his crew again. "Set coordinates for the Trasnia Sord. Let's try to make this process as quick as possible for our guest." The captain smiles reassuringly at Nirako. "Don't worry. As long as everything you've told me is true, you should be regaling your comrades with tales of your adventure by tomorrow evening."

Nirako nodded and grinned.

"The sooner, the better. Any vacant seats while I'm waiting, or is this a stand around ship?"

The captain furrows his brow. "Well, there's no room to sit here, unless you want to sit on the floor. If you'd like you can pass the time in my quarters as long as you don't break anything or try to access the computer. The trip will take only about two hours."

Nirako nodded as he sat down by a wall.

"Keeping my prosthetic between my legs makes it easier to fix it. Got jolted around coming out of Warp space."

After sitting down, he pulled off his left arm just above the elbow, revealing both breaking points to have tiny mechanisms connected to mimic the musclular, nervous, and skeletal system where the break was. Pulling a small tool out of one of his eyebrow rings, Nirako begins to adjust the prosthetic quietly.

The captain raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. After about two hours and fifteen minutes the ship emerges into the Trasnia System, where a government transport awaits it. The captain reads his display, presumably a message from the government vessel, then addresses the crew. "Dock at the Labule operations starbase." He looks at their guest. "You'll be transferred to that vessel; a government ship. They tell me that they have already been in contact with your government and are cleared to return you to your homeworld."

Nirako nods as he reattaches his arms and puts the tool back in his eyebrow ring.

"Glad to hear it. I take it my Penetrator will be transfered as well?"

As he asks, he begins moving his arm to make sure he made all the proper adjustments. A keen eye would notice small metal claws momentarily coming out before retracting and Nirako raising an eyebrow at this occurance.

The bridge crew, focused on their duties, do not notice the claws. The captain simply responds to his passenger's question. "I assume it will be returned promptly, yes. You'll have to speak to the government representative. I'm just a private freighter captain." The ship docks, and the government transport, a small Calicke, docks as well. It is only a few minutes before a well-dressed representative of the thanic species arrives on the bridge of the private transport to greet Nirako. The bug-like creature speaks in its native tongue of clicks and chirps, which are promptly translated and rebroadcast by a device it wears on its belt. "I am Field of Dawn's Echo, an official representative of the Xanthalian government. You are Nirako, I presume?"

Nirako nods politely.

"Nirako, Penetrator pilot for the Muktari Capital Fleet. Thanks for seeing to my return home."

"It is my government's pleasure as well as its internationally-recognized duty to assist you. I have been authorized to immediately return you to Muktar, where you will be turned over to the jurisdiction of your own government. Your fighter will be held in quarantine until we can clear its return. I would like to extend my personal apologies that your ship cannot travel with you, but the Socialist Republic has a policy of not supplying neutral nations with weapons when there is reason to believe they will be imminently used as tools of warfare. For that reason, it is necessary for our officials to conduct a full diplomatic background check of your government and dialogue with the Chronosian government to verify that your conflict with them has indeed ended. If you wish to file an objection, or ask any questions, I invite you to do so now, and I will answer them to the best of my ability."

Nirako raised a concerned eyebrow at the seperate transport part, but waited until he was given the chance to speak before making his statement.

"Yeah, I have two questions. Would the Penetrator being my private property have any influence in the policy? If not, do you mind if I get my private possessions out of the cockpit?"

If it was possible, the than would look skeptical. As it is, its all but immoble facial features and the dry translation of its electronic device hints at nothing beyond a simple question: "Your government permits private citizens to own such weapons?"

Nirako nodded calmly. It was clear that the Muktari mentality on the matter was not consistent with the norm, but apparently the need for protocol had surpassed basic greed.

"A squadron's commander is legally responsible and owns all vessels under his command. A squadron's commander is the highest slotted pilot in the squadron. Being the only survivor of my squadron, that puts me in that slot for private ownship. The government has all sorts of laws to keep commanders in check to avoid abuse of power, of course. They mainly do it to avoid maintainence fees."

Sirens of Titan Containment Commission Datafeed
»» Info sheet #1 (limited information available - source pool identification pending)1-¬National name: Muktar
2-¬Location: Jupiter
3-¬Status: in orbit
4-¬Trade oppertunities: no facts available; more information will soon be found and compiled.
5-¬Threat assessment: Idem; see #4.
{open communication frequency - direct ether uplink}
{message to: Muktar}
{message from: SoT CC}

::The Sirens of Titan Containment Commission (SoT CC) welcomes the nation of Muktar in the vast emptiness, the infinite void of space. The SoT CC is an expert in pest control ie aliens and other unwanted non-human species. Species soon to be extinct when we are allowed to work for you. We are not mercenaries, from death we profit. Death is our expertise, and so is technology.

No, we are not the regular space craft builder, or able to design a truly orginal apt breed of spacecraft that can rule parts of the univserse. Nay, the SoT CC excels at the more unusual forms of technology. Temporal? Maybe. Conventional? No. Controversial? You bet. Anyway, I am turning this humble welcome message in a cheap advertisement. We wish you good luck!::

{Closed communication - direct ether uplink terminated}
{message sent to: Muktar}
{message composed by: George Costinack, CEO of the SoT CC.}

OOC: Sirens of Titan has one base on Terra (earth) which is called Christmas Island, not to be confused with real life Christmas Isle owned by Australia. Our capital city there is Karnak its not owned by the SoT CC. The SoT CC owns the planet Christmas which orbits around the star Gliese 710 along with several artificial moons and asteroids tugged into a safe orbit around G710 to mine its minerals.

The than considers this, then nods. "I understand. This complicates matters somewhat, but I believe that we can still manage the process in an expedient manner. In any case, the calicke I came on is not able to carry your fighter, so I am going to give you two options within my power. Either you can return home now and your fighter will be delivered to your custody once the proper process has been gone through or you may stay in the Socialist Republic under diplomatic protection until you can travel with your property."

Nirako thinks a moment, scratching idly at a tatoo on the back of his neck.

"Considering it is my responsibility not to abandon my vessel, I'm going to stick with the diplomatic protection, stay with you guys option."

The than bows. "Very well. In that case, you will be my responsibility as long as you are in the Socialist Republic. You may call me Dawn. Please come with me to the calicke so that I may inform my government of this development and make arrangements for your stay." Before leaving, Dawn addresses Captain Dilla. "By the authority of the Alphin, your vessel is to remain here until Nirako's property can be securely transferred aboard a government vessel. Unless explicitly authorized, neither you, your crew, nor any other parties not authorized by the Alphin are to enter the cargo hold containing the fighter or tamper with the fighter or its environment in any way. Do you understand?"
Feshnal bows. "I understand. The Alphin's orders will be followed."
Dawn turns to leave. "You should inform your company of your detention, as it may be several hours before your cargo can be offloaded. Nirako, please follow me."

Nirako nods and follows the than. All the binding rules are like offal in his mouth, but it is a small price to pay if it means getting home.

As they exit the ship and walk the few dozen yards to the gate where the calicke is docked, Nirako is exposed for a moment to the environment of the Xanthalian starbase. This midsized, military-run model is relatively quiet, and has an overriding air of order that permeates the well-lit, clean and utilitarianly-furnished hallways. This facility is rarely used by civilians, and it is evident by the sparse, uniformed pedestrian traffic in the area that it is not particularly busy at the moment either. The floor is carpeted to cut down noise, and the walls are of mostly mid-to-dark grey and brown coloration. A row of large windows lines the wall to their right, through which the New October and the small calicke, as well as the backdrop of the inner star system, can be seen.

As the pair approaches the calicke, a man's voice is broadcast on the station intercom. He addresses the station's inhabitants in Mirfakan, the national language of Xanthal. "Xylo totios sashu Colsak Labulal Xanthal AbnaHina-venaDecna-abna. Colsak cilal est io kufazetal to voyios mor mataThina-venaDecna ower. Cil helen partios prial..."

The end of the transmission is cut off by the closing airlock when they board the calicke. The second airlock opens into the back of the small vessel. Before them stretches the main compartment. This calicke has been permanently fitted for passenger accomodation, and unlike most models where virtually everything but the windows can be easily removed to store cargo the vessel they are in now is well furnished in pleasant shades of beige. It is also fitted for comfort rather than pure functionality, with only five rows of two seats on each side of the cabin rather than the standard military ten rows of three. The accomodations and forward galley indicate a ship used to recieve guests rather than simply transport personnel. At the moment though, only Dawn and Nirako occupy the calicke.

Dawn walks up the center aisle and opens the door at the end, entering the cockpit. The control center is very functional, and obviously not modified from its original form. It is dimly lit and painted dark grey, with seating for two pilots. There is no large forward electronic display like there was in the larger merchant vessel from which they came, but rather just a simple clear alloy viewscreen wrapped around the front and sides of the cockpit affording a view of space ahead: a good number of ships and orbital facilities in the distance centered around an evidently bustling planet: Trasnia VI. In the dim light of the cockpit, the electronic monitors and controls are easy to read. That is, they are if you are fluent in the Mirfakan language, which is what all the text, both on the screens and physically stamped or stuck to the various surfaces is written in.

Dawn takes the seat on the left and begins working the controls, apparently typing up a message for her government. When she finishes, she looks back at Nirako, once again speaking in Than which is translated to Galactic Standard by her device. "You can feel free to sit down if you would like. We will be leaving as soon as I get a response from the planetary government office regarding where you will be accomodated."

Nirako nods and takes a seat. Looking around, he struggles to avoid being visibly shocked. Whoever these people were that he had fallen in with were clearly advocates if not avatars of the very concept of order. He would need to excercise a lot of self-restraint to avoid an incident.

Holding his palm toward himself, he curls his fingers so the tips are not visible to onlookers, then briefly lets out the claws. Barely a centimeter, but solid and razor sharp. He sets them back in, letting the pleasant suprise of the claws cancel out the culture shock.

After a few minutes, an audible metallic clank followed by a mechanical grumbling can be heard reverbrating through the structure of the small ship as its connection to the starbase is evered and it moves away. The motion of its acceleration towards Trasnia VI is very much reduced by the ship's artificial gravity field, but still definately perceptible. The ship's inertial dampening functions are basic, functional but not fine-tuned. Calickes are too small to incorporate the more advanced systems common to full-scale starships.

Dawn calls back to her passenger through the still-open cockpit door as the ship approaches the Trasnian capital planet. "We will be landing at Hohki International Spaceport near Weston. Weston is the capital city of Trasnia VI and the Trasnia System, so it will be easy to contact government offices from there if we need to. With luck you will only be held up for a day or two, but to ensure your comfort the Xanthalian government has booked you at one of the planet's finest hotels."

The calicke rattles with slight turbulence as it begins travelling through the atmosphere, and the vessel progressively decelerates as the than concentrates on the task of bringing the craft to its assigned landing pad. There is no dialogue between the pilot and any control station, forcing the assumption that there must be a computer guidance system in effect.

Nirako grinned and nodded at the part of the hotel, as that (hopefully) suggested some privacy and informality, which was exactly what he needed after all this protocol. He sat back and waited patiently for the ship to land and for things to start happening again.

The approach takes almost fifteen minutes, and the ship finally lands softly on a large pad in the spaceport. The window shields lift, affording a view on one side of the expansive spaceport: a complex network of facilities, buildings, pads, roads, and runways. On the other side is a set of low hills, over the top of which can be seen the tops of the tallest buildings in the city of Weston. The whole picture is partially obscured by heavy sheets of rain coming from a solid black cloud cover. Lightning frequently rips across the sky, accompanied by crashing thunder. The entire area, on beyond the horizon, is beseiged by a giant thunderstorm.

Fortunately for the calicke's passengers, Hohki International is a a full-service spaceport with facilities that, compared to most such terminals in the Socialist Republic, border on excessive. An umbilical extends from the ground and to the calicke's rear hatch, closing the gap with a slight hiss of atmosphere. Dawn powers down the craft and walks out to Nirako. Together they pass through the ship's hatch to the umbilical, where their path is blocked by another electronic door. Dawn seals the calicke's hatch and works briefly on a computer console to the side of the small compartment. She steps away from the console and the door before them opens into another small room. They pass into this area and the door closes behind them. There is a sensation of downward motion accompanied by an electronic whine, indicating that they are on an elevator. This halts after a short decent and the doors open into a wide, well-lit subterranean corridor.

The two leave the elevator behind, tirning right and following the corridor. As they progress, they encounter more and more people passing by them going one direction or the other. Many are silent, but some speak to other people or into communication devices. Trasnia, one of the least tamed of the four Xanthalian worlds, is a cultural mixing pot, and as they emerge from the corridor into the main terminal, this is only too evident. The noise is loud and constant, PA announcements over voices over electronic sounds and translations over more voices and announcements, in at least three different languages. Dozens of identifiable species and many more racial variations of people mill about in the barely-organized chaos of the terminal. The dress styles are wide and varied, and in some cases the people seem to wear no clothes at all. The terminal itself, or the section that Dawn and Nirako are in anyway, is a simple affair. There are many retail stands scattered about, with merchants selling everything from postcards to clothing to food. The large room is circular, perhaps fifty meters in diameter. At its center is one large information desk staffed with several harrassed-looking clerks, and all along the walls are branch corridors like the one that Nirako had come from. Bright electronic signs hang from the ceiling over the doorways and information desk, scrolling messages in alternating Mirfakan and Galactic Standard.

There seems to be no real organization to the activity of the place, though there are a large number of law enforcement officers; identifiable by their black uniforms and ancient Japanese-style sword sheathes and swords. They carrry no evident projectile weapons. Dawn stands with Nirako for a moment, giving him time to take in the surroundings, then calls to him over the operssive racket. "This is the spaceport's main private craft terminal. Many people from Xanthal and other countries use the areas attached to this hub to park their vessels while they are in the area. Now, if you will please follow me..." She starts off through the crowd to another passageway on the far side of the room.

Nirako nodded as he followed, unable to keep a grin off his face. This was the sort of place that was hospitable to him. As he goes through the crowd, he notices an old friend. He decides to give him a quick hello, but couldn't say much since they were going opposite ways.

"Canto!"

"Nirako?"

"Slaaneshi infusion, all over Muktar."

"Thanks for the tip. I'll let the other merchants know."

Canto passed on, blending back into the crowd. He had gone merchant after being exiled for accidental murder in the mines, but was still respected by the community. Nirako would have to remember to see if he could get him cleared with the new stance of government.

Dawn and Nirako enter the new passage, going a short distance before waiting at what appears to be a tram station. It is very indoorsy, with two tracks, one running each side of the corridor. They are seperated from the hallway by a clear alloy that allows one to see the trains while avoiding any danger of being hit. The clear walls are interspersed with doors, ten on each side, where the trains can be boarded. Over each of these doors is an electronic sign flashing text regarding the destinations of the next train on each line and the time to arrival. The noise level, though still high, is lessened here due to the lower traffic compared to the central hub of the terminal. After a short time, a train arrives and Dawn and Nirako board it. The generic tram begins to move off through the tunnels.

Nirako meerly took a seat and waited. There weren't any familiar faces, nothing to talk about with Dawn, and not much to do otherwise. Sitting patiently, he waited for the ride to stop and for something to happen again.

The tram travels though several more stops at various subterranean levels before emerging to the surface. The storm still shows no signs of letting up, the rain coming down in a continuous sheet and electrical discharges slicing through the dark sky. The tram travels on for at least another five miles above ground through the spaceport. As it passes by dozens of ships of various makes and models, it hints at just how large this hub is. All this ground covered and they have still not seen anything but private spacecraft. They haven't even come within sight of the large carrier, public transportation and cargo areas.

Finally the train approaches a large one-story building with walls made completely of see-through alloy: Only a small portion of it can be clearly seen, as the high, solid outer wall of the spaceport continues through the building itself, cutting it into two sections. The smaller of the two is the one that Dawn and Nirako emerge into as they leave the train. The terminal is molded around a large main area and several tram tracks and platforms, the far ones accessible by a midsized underground room with elevators and stairways leading up to them. The atmosphere here is considerably quieter and more ordered than the last terminal, though there are easily as many people.

As they walk away from the tram lines, they are faced with the thick wall dividing them from the world outside of the spaceport. This wall is interspersed with twenty portals, at each stationed a guard and a computer terminal at a small table. Lined up in front of each are queues of people also leaving the spaceport. These are the government-mandated checkpoints, notorious in the old days of Xanthal and revived in its new incarnation. Those wishing to pass first register all their information with the guard. They then stand in the portal, facing the closed door to the exit. The door behind them closes, and they are subjected for five seconds to almost every scan imaginable, recording biological facts and functions, chemical readings, items on the person, international cross-checks and background checks, record checks, and so forth. In those five seconds, everything that can be revealed about the person and what they are carrying by test and observance is recorded in the massive database of the Xanthalian government. This is how people entering and leaving Xanthalian planets are tracked. When the scanning system is satisfied that there is no contraband or immediate danger posed by the incoming parties, it opens the door to the outside, allowing them through to Xanthalian soil.

There are no scanning points for anything but carry-on/off luggage here. This is a very straightforward exit, used mostly by businessmen and day-travellers. Dawn leads Nirako to stand in line, and they begin their slow progression towards the portal.

Nirako eyes the tests nervously.

"Dawn, as you may have been informed by the commander of the vessel that originally picked me up, my left arm is a prosthetic. I recently discovered that, due to the transformation caused during the battle with Chronosia, the prosethetic has small, metallic retractable claws. Will this have any influence over my getting through that portal?"

Dawn raises an eyebrow. "I should not think so. If nietzscheans and dragonites can pass through with their spiked limbs and fire breath, your metal claws should not be a problem. Many prosthetics are enabled with various secondary functions. As long as it cannot be used as a projectile or energy weapon and does not contain any harmful biological, chemical, or explosive agents there should be no issue. The Xanthalian government prefers to give visitors the benefit of the doubt to maintain our open-door policy. Though the ministries of information and health and safety do extensive tracking, it is extremely rare for anyone to be barred entry to a planet unless they have an acknowledged criminal record. In your case, being under diplomatic protection, even that could not bar you as you will be under constant supervision."

Nirako nodded and let out his claws. Shifting his digits around, he couldn't get a projectile trigger. He squeezed a tip, and was unable to get any venom out.

"Looks like my claws don't have anything you specified. I'm all clear."

Dawn bows shortly. "If you are not, there is not likely to be a major issue. Be confident. One way or the other, I am confident that all will work out."

The two arrive at the portal. Dawn speaks to the representative, who wears attire in similar style to hers, in speech translated to Mirfakan, then swipes what appears to be an identification card at the computer termianl, placing her hand against a port briefly as the guard examines the data on-screen. They speak a few moments longer, then Dawn turns back to Nirako. "I will go first and wait for you on the other side." With that, she enters the chamber. The metal doors close behind her, blocking her from view. Inside, the room is lit remporarily as the scans and checks are performed, then the door to the outer area opens. Dawn steps through and stands waiting as the outer doors close and the inner doors open again to admit Nirako. The guard motions him inside, presumably informed of his alien status by Dawn. He enters, is scanned, and exits.

The outer area of the exit building is identical to the first, except that this time they are outside the spaceport, looking out at two sets of exits. To their front and left is what appears to be a private transportation recieving area, with countless cars, trucks, taxis, and small buses. Right of this is another set of doors leading to a set of tram platforms, the public transportation way out of the area. There is also a bus lot beyond those platforms. Neither area is sheltered from the downpour in progress, so when they exit through the doors on the right they are almost immediately drenched. They walk several dozen meters to the bus lot, where a black car marked with the Xanthalian flag and the text "Böl Pĕleä Zănŧäl" prominently marked on the sides awaits them. Dawn ushers Nirako into the back seat, then joins him. The machine's design is almost identical to that of an automobile from the late twentieth century, though the steady hum of its engine suggests an alternate power source.

Dawn shuts the door and addresses the driver, a young-looking human male. This time, in close quarters, the quick adjustment she makes to her translator is evident, giving it silent instructions to make her native speech into Mirfakan. "Cashiza Mikarkafal, quelel." The car pulls out and drives a short time before merging with the rest of traffic. Their progress is paced, but not slow over the rolling hills as they make the ten-kilometer trip to Weston, or, as properly spelled in Mirfakan, Wĕstĭn. Dawn adjusts her translator again and addresses her passenger as they travel the packed six-lane highway through the pouring rain. "If you have any questions or concerns, I would encourage you to take the time to address them with me now, while we are both otherwise unoccupied."

OOC: Sorry for the triple post. The forum is giving me some weird length restriction.

Nirako nods.

"So, is there going to be a language barrier issue at this hotel, or is there going to be a translator available, or what?"

Dawn considers the question, then shakes her head. "You seem to speak Galactic Standard fluently. Though Mirfakan may be the official language of the Socialist Republic, during the years of seperation Galactic Standard became the native language of Trasnia. Because of that, most Trasnians still speak Galactic Standard as well as Mirfakan."

The car enters the outskirts of the city, now passing over a large suburban area on the raised highway. The layout of the city seems to be one of largely self-sufficient suburban sectors surrounding a concentrated towering downtown area only about two miles wide. The houses in the suburbs are very much in the traditional style, the most notable difference being the prolific subway lines running through the entirety of the city; a remenant of First Xanthal's famous local, regional, continental, and planetary rail transit networks. Now, most of these lines are vacant and unused, having fallen victim to rampant privatization of the transportation industry after the fall of the previous Xanthalian union.

Nirako looked out the window, looking over the abandoned railways.

"That railway system looks like it was useful during its time. Too bad Muktar Prime is too mountainous for that sort of thing. It could really use more efficient land transportation."

He then looks back to his left hand, flexing his fingers to make sure none of his adjustments had worn out. They could normally go the whole day, but after being shaken up as it was, the reliability remained uncertain.

Dawn nods. "The original Xanthalian union used high speed rail networks to move the bulk of its population around planets until the final century of its existence, when molecular transporters replaced them. The Socialist Republic's current government is actually in the process of considering communizing the transportation industry again now that Xanthal is reunited, but it is unlikely to pass within the next few cycles. There are too many conservative party members in the Council for something like that to happen. It was a stretch just to pass the moderate provisions of the Religious Communization Act. In any case, an entire infrastructure for private transportation has grown up in the past three hundred years, as you can see," she says, indicating the roadways below and the highway they are currently travelling on. "Trasnia is a corporate powerhouse, more so than Mirfak ever was."

She looks over at Nirako. "I suppose that's to be expected considering it's a former pirate stronghold. The new union is in the position of being compelled to see capitalism as a reality more than a plague."

Nirako turned and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm guessing the pseudoanarchy of a scattered galaxy forced an economic change, if you once saw capitalism as a plague."

Dawn nods. "Capitalism has a way of sneaking up on a democratic nation. There are those that argue our Constitution needed stricter socialist guidelines incorporated into it, but as this Xanthal was formed by the mutual assent of three sovereign democratic states rather than the original Xanthal, which was founded as an empire, our Framers were much less free to make a Constitution favoring any one group on the political map than was Ezekiel Zabertini, the original founder of Xanthal. It can be argued, in my opinion very rightly, that our state is the weaker for the rampant compromise its creation involved, but we must all work with what we are given.

"Though a great deal of time has passed since the days of the old Socialist Republic, our worlds still remember the peace and prosperity they enjoyed under Xanthalian Socialism. In Trasnia, the old oaths to the Universe still survive, and prayers are given to Aellis every day. In Than, the Xanthalian style of government survived until the reunion of the Xanthalian territories. The language of Mirfak's word for perfection or utopia is 'xanth,' which is 'xanthal' in adjective form. We may never achieve the state that our ancestors did, but we are in a position to build a new state, a new approach to perfection with the advantage of knowing the mistakes and flaws in the first Socialist Republic. I do not lament our position. I believe it is worthy of celebration that four worlds spread across three star systems were able to come through the chaos of three centuries intact, with the integrity and basic faith to join together in unity to pursue the same dream they lost sight of so long ago."

The car finally passes into the downtown area, and exits the freeway, pulling onto the streets at ground level. Here, between the normal crowding of late afternoon traffic and poor driving conditions, traffic moves at a depressingly slow pace. The few pedestrians out in the inclement weather pass all the motor traffic easily as they walk. The roads are four lanes wide here, and parking seems to be all in underground garages. Nirako, Dawn, and their driver turn the corner in their car and begin their crawl the final half-mile to the hotel.

Nirako nodded.

"I guess if all four planets are this hospitable, there isn't much reason to change. Throughout it's history, Muktar has changed its society in beat with the unstable planets it has had to inhabit. Now that the mishap has passed, we've finally managed to land an adaptable culture that can still maintain rich tradition."

Dawn makes no reply to this, simply sitting as the car continues to edge forward.

Nirako began to tap his fingers on the windowsill, but quickly got annoyed with the clanking sound.

"Is there any reason we can't just walk the rest of the way? It looks like there's enough room to open the door."

Dawn looks doubtfully out her window. "I suppose we could, if you don't mind the rain."

Nirako shook his head, chuckling.

"Unless I'm hallucinating, we're still soaked from getting in the car. What harm could more rain do anyhow?"

Dawn manages a shrug through her armor-like exoskeleton. "I dislike the rain." Without further comment or argument, she opens the door and steps out into the street, moving to the sidewalk and waiting in the downpour for Nirako.

Nirako smirks and pulls himself out of the car, shutting the door behind him. He breathes deep a moment. Muktar never had rain, and it's an invigorating experience for him. Everyone on the planet is going to so jealous.

"Shall we get going then?"

So saying, he began to walk between the cars, looking for a way to avoid cutting off traffic.

Dawn tracks him from the sidewalk. "Nirako; it would be safer, and much more legal, if you were to use the pedestrian walkways. Please follow me. It will not be well for either of us if you are injured under my supervision."

Nirako nods.

"That's where I was heading. Just looking for a chance to cut between cars that wouldn't get me hit."

So saying, he leapt behind the car that had just finished passing him, landing with barely a splash on the sidewalk. He then walked up alongside Dawn, letting her lead the way to their destination.

Dawn smiles inwardly. Interesting boy. They walk briskly through the rain, after a few blocks turning into a building that, while tall, does not rival many of the other skyscrapers in the downtown area. They find themselves in a large, luxurious lobby that is the trademark of most high-class hotels. To their right is a cozy looking lounge and bar, while to their left is an attachment to a retail area. Ahead and to their right is the long, curving desk of the reception staff. Along the large windowpanes on either side of the set of main doors and adjacent to the reception desk are well-furnished sitting areas, with comfortable couches and chairs. The one further inside even has a fireplace, in which is blazing a warm fire. Beyond the desk and sitting area is a short hallway where the elevators and stairways can be accessed. The tall room is lit with rows of large chandeliers and wallpapered in a reassuring traditional ivy style. Well-cleaned tan and red carpets provide interesting contrast and a celebrity feel to the place. The lobby is not crowded, though a few people sit by the windows waiting for rides or by the fireplace, chatting. The bulk of the main floor's population is centered in the lounge, with the remaining few scattered throughout the gift shop.

Dawn makes her way to the front desk at an easy pace, trying her best not to drip on the furniture she passes. As she approaches, a representative of the hotel, a human man with dark hair and a clean-cut beard, notes her species and distinctive uniform and pulls two card keys from behind the desk. "Cil est Bell Saysay Feklioal, ak tae gaikoual?"

Dawn nods, adjusting her translator again. "Yil. Mata plas skal, teaplal?"

"Yil. Vag venaDecna-elnal."

"Tel lanyu est Nirako," the than motions to her companion. "Uk nalios Aj Basal deeval."

"Watashi ast vash tel." The receptionist makes a short entry on his computer.

"Winnej cil." The two bow, the hotel clerk slightly lower than Dawn, and she takes the keys from the man behind the desk. "Please accompany me to your room." With that, she is off to the elevators.

OOC notes:
-I see you have an AIM address. You can contact me if you'd like; "zorak950".
-Dawn's uniform (a variant of the standard uniform of Alphinic Office staff, indicating a fully-credentialed and empowered diplomatic agent):
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v88/Zorak950/NS/Diplomat.jpg

Nirako nodded and followed to the elevator. Once they got inside, Nirako turned toward Dawn.

"The clerk seemed rather suprised to see you for some reason. Do they not get a lot of government workers out here or something?"

Dawn tilts her head to one side curiously. "I should think they see more diplomats than most, considering the caliber of their establishment. I have been here several times myself. He did not seem surprised to me. In fact, he was informed in advance of our arrival. What makes you think he was surprised?"

They get off the elevator on the thirty-seventh floor and walk through the quiet hallways towards their rooms.

Nirako shrugs.

"It wasn't like a jawdrop suprise, but a 'that was unexpected' casual suprise. I guess the clerk had seen the traffic or something and didn't expect to see us so soon."

Dawn chitters lightly, her species' version of laughter. "Perhaps he was simply taken aback seeing a diplomat and foreigner walking in this rain." They arrive at the rooms matching the key markings and Dawn hands Nirako one of them. "I will be using the room next door. If you need food, drink, or any comfort items, please feel free to ask the hotel staff. The Xanthalian government will cover these purchases up to five hundred quinaults a day. The rooms should be attached. As an undocumented foreigner under my supervision, you are not permitted to leave your room without me. If you wish to go somewhere or have a question, knock on the door attaching our rooms and I will accomodate you to the best of my ability." She pauses. "I believe that is all. I will come to you with any developments on clearing your fighter. Is there anything else you would like to know at the moment?"

Nirako nodded and opened the door to his room.

"Personally, I'm hitting the sack. I was about to get into my sleeping period when we got scrambled, so I'm exhausted."

So saying, he went inside and into the bathroom. After relieving himself, he began to remove his various piercings before finally removing his prosthetic arm. After seeing to various hygienic activities, he removed his armor aspects of his uniform and got into bed.

Dawn retires to her own room, taking a sonic shower and hanging her uniform out to dry, she puts on one of the hotel's complementary robes and calls down for room service. A few minutes later, a large dinner spread is brought up. She tips the server generously, eats quickly, then sets the dishes aside, going to bed and promptly falling asleep.

Waking early, Dawn goes down to the lobby for breakfast, then returns to her room and works on her laptop for a short time. She accesses a particular document, then sets aside the computer and moves to the doorway joining her room to Nirako's. She knocks lightly, not wishing to wake him, but to gain his attention if he is awake.

Several days pass, then Nirako is returned to his home, along with his property.

OOC: Well, I'm out. This thread is officially dead.