NationStates Jolt Archive

Advisor Hertzfeldt, the lanky self-proclaimed loser whose only real claim to fame is having inadvertently allowed Ardan influence to increase exponentially under his leadership of the Segments, leans forward in his desk at a job he is far better suited for. Always having been more the intellectual and the academician than the statesman or the practicalist, his comfortable, out-of-the-limelight job as Science Advisor suits him well. Approving education plans, heading the equally quiet day-in-day-out operation of the Triumvirate's Galaxy Exploration Command, and occasionally giving lectures are what make up his days; all things he's actually good at and he knows it. He's even become more important as of late; the Cinder mycotoxin scare and the subsequent medical research effort on Si'lat are all in his domain, along with Razak and his Federal Medical Corps.

Another day, a new job--actually, more progress on an old project. A lot of scientists were literally thrown into spasms when the TYCS released its sat-data; sure, fractal reality is widely admitted to be concentrated weirdness but nothing like this had ever happened before. Nations, entire peoples, came and went, but they never went down in a cataclysm like this, the kinds of which that defy rational explanation based on everything known about vulcanology, geology, plate tectonics... hell, even the magicians (they preferred the term "researchers in thaumatology" or "thaumatologists," but putting it into Greek doesn't trick anyone) are at a loss. The Science section had sent minisubs to the new strait to investigate, but one of the downsides to being on Titan is that Earthside resources tend to be far too scarce and tiny minisubs simply can't do the amount of science required.

Then, a stroke of luck from an unexpected place: the International Trade Section. Advisor Kerrigan leaned over a few months ago and let him know that the Weyrian megacorp that TME Industries had invented the unfortunately-acronymed Sub-Etha Machine Navigation system for went tits-up and now the resident Scolopendran megacorp owned quite a bit of Earthside facilities in the aftermath of debt settlements. These resources included old-fashioned wet naval shipyards, which, if Kerrigan remembered anything at all about lunch-table discussions, fit Jon's needs perfectly. Quietly ecstatic, Hertzfeldt drew up some specifications with a tiger team and, after procuring funding from the Legislative Unit, sent it off to TME Industries to complete. Of course he put it on the open YutLink too for other companies to put bids on... but none of the other Saturnian corps had Earthside production facilities, and shipping a huge nuclear sub across a few billion kilometers certainly isn't exactly cheap.

That was about a year ago by personal reckoning--which means nothing in the [wholly nonextant] objective sense--and now the first Seaview-class nuclear research submarine is preparing to leave its drydock moorings, a billion and a half kilometers away. Then Nadjiba from IntRelate asked if Jon could make it an international expedition to assist with international relations, and Hertzfeldt, being an agreeable if laconic sort, agreed. Besides, it would allow for several different mindsets to be represented, different points-of-view to look at the problem... which is nothing but a good thing.

This latest development is why he's leaning forward at his desk, typing up a letter to go on the YutLink, the academic webs, and in mailers to various nations' academia. No one can sign up if they don't know it's even happening, right? Besides, the nations in Haven had already been cat-quick to divide up the new waterway amongst themselves and so, of course, permissions must be asked. May as well do it in the same message... to save time and all, of course.

Federated Segments of Scolopendra
Science Section

The Federated Segments is preparing to launch an exploration mission to the new waterway in Haven to investigate whatever geological, vulcanological, or fractal effects which may have caused it. The sudden disappearance of such a large landmass is of immediate concern to all, and for safety's sake we have to know what happened and what the likelihood is of something like it happening again. Understanding the international concern for such things, I would like to invite scientists and academics from other nations to join us on this mission, so we can learn together and bring our unique viewpoints to this investigation. Whatever scientific knowledge we uncover will be freely shared amongst the groups that participate.

Our mission has several objectives:1. Determine the cause of the strait's sudden creation.
2. Determine the likelihood of such an event reoccuring.
3. Collect any anthropological evidence which may have survived.
4. Map the new seafloor for use in public navigation charts.

To accomplish this, we need a submarine--which has just been completed--and scientists. I don't think there's a need to specify; if your field of research or study can aid in this mission, then we can use you on board. Please apply either to the local Segments consulate in your nation or contact me directly via electronic resources.

We also require the permission of those Haven nations that currently claim the strait as their own. Details are available to them upon request, but the Federated Segments would see it as a definite kindness if this mission is permitted to enter sovereign territory. We will of course do our best to avoid interfering with any local economic or military life in the area.

Thank you for your time, and hopefully your interest.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/jon_hertzfeldt.gifAdvisor Jon Hertzfeldt
Science Section
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

(OOC: Some people already know what's up, and they've been briefed. If anyone else is curious, just TG me and I'll send you the thread rules.)

To: Advisor Jon Hertzfeldt, Science Section, The Segments

While we’re always happy to oblige our allies in Scolopendra, we must admit, we’ve had difficulty persuading anyone with the relevant qualifications and publications under their belt to go. It appears the ‘Havenite Disappearance Zone’ has been the subject of numerous lurid rumours and dramas about ships lost at sea, and apparently no one is too keen to go, though naturally the stated reasons are outstanding commitments or busy speaking tours. That said, we’re willing to help if you require any kind of logistical support we can provide, and one or two individuals expressed an interest in helping analyse your results.

Apologies if this falls short of hopes and expectations, and I can only express my wish that we’re able to contribute in a more meaningful way to future international research.

With Regrets,
Newton Prevatt,
Co-ordinator of external projects, C’tan Ministry of Science.

{Open Transmission}
{TRANSMISSION TYPE: Diplomatic Contact - Secure}
{FROM: Lord Indigo Blue, the Absolutionist State of Austar Union}
{TO: Advisor Jon Hertzfeldt - Science Section, the Federated Segments of Scolopendra}
{SUBJECT: Mission Within Haven}

Being given word that you were to be undertaking a mission of understanding on Terra, much less the region of Haven, I was actually quite pleased with the knowledge that I may be able to assist you in these matters. Scientists within the Union have actually been attempting to understand this phenomenon for some time already - yet have made little progress. I would appreciate it if it at all possible, if I allow a team of scientists to join you in your quest for knowledge, and in return I assist you with the ability to port in a nearby territory I have under my control.

On the map attached, you will note that under my belt I have the Isle of the Ravenspire, just at the Northern portion of the Haven Straits. With regards to your mission, I hoped that it would be sufficient enough - if you wanted to - to base your operations from that Island. I look forward in the meantime, to your response.

Yours In Excellence,

Lord Indigo Blue
The Absolutionist State of Austar Union
{Close Transmission}

--<Transmission Type: Emergency Coded Tightbeam>--
-<Sender: Science Advisor Jon Hertzfeldt, FSS>-
-<Destination: Coordinator Newton Prevatt, ENEC>-
--<Subject: Logistical Support>--

We fully understand your reticence, as we have apparently lost a few freelance explorers as well. We thank you for your offer of logistical support and will keep you in mind if whatever we find exceeds the expedition nations capability to analyze.

Thank you for your interest, and hopefully we can work more closely together in the future!

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/jon_hertzfeldt.gifAdvisor Jon Hertzfeldt
Science Section
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

--<End Transmission>--

* - * - *

--<Transmission Type: Emergency Coded Tightbeam>--
-<Sender: Science Advisor Jon Hertzfeldt, FSS>-
-<Destination: Lord Indigo Blue, ASAU>-
--<Subject: Researchers and Bases>--

Many thanks for your offer of portage! We will be certain to take you up on that; our on-sub storage space won't be sufficient to keep at sea indefinitely, and I'm sure the crew won't want to be cooped up for too long.

As for your research team, we can pick it up at the Isle of Ravenspire. Do you mind if we use Ravenspire as a rendezvous point for the expedition teams?

All we ask now is for the biographies of your team so we know how they'll fit in with everyone else. Our boat may be big, but we just want to be sure.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/jon_hertzfeldt.gifAdvisor Jon Hertzfeldt
Science Section
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

--<End Transmission>--

{Open Transmission}
{TRANSMISSION TYPE: Diplomatic Contact - Secure}
{FROM: Lord Indigo Blue, the Absolutionist State of Austar Union}
{TO: Advisor Jon Hertzfeldt - Science Section, the Federated Segments of Scolopendra}
{SUBJECT: Re:}

Isle of the Ravenspire seems a fine place to rendezvous between our teams. In the meantime, please be advised that I have attached documentation regarding a short biographie on each of the team members. I have taken special care to select the most... suitable individuals.

Yours In Excellence,

Lord Indigo Blue
The Absolutionist State of Austar Union
{Close Transmission}

Short Biographie Collection - Uploaded and Attached

Total Expeditionary Team Members: - 6 -
Total Male: - 4 -
Total Female: - 2 -

Smith Wigglesworth - TL
Age: 48 Years
Marital Status: Non-Married, No Children
Political Compass: 3.46, 0.84
Religious: No.
Experience / Education: Doctorate in Geology and the Study of Metals. Degree in Maritime Studies. Has undertaken a career in Geology since 26 Years.

John Hannsworth
Age: 32 Years
Marital Status: Married, No Children
Political Compass: 0.23, 0.04
Religious: No.
Experience / Education: Studies in the Field of Marine Biology. Also has experience in the study of fossils, and recognition of some rock formation.

Robert Hughes
Age: 24 Years
Marital Status: Defacto Relationship
Political Compass: -4.23, 3.64
Religious: No.
Experience / Education: Freshman from University. Completed Bachelor's Degree in Geology.

Bruce Crofter
Age: 55 Years
Marital Status: Married, Two Children
Political Compass: 8.92, 5.94
Religious: No.
Experience / Education: Has followed most of the career of Smith Wigglesworth, and worked alongside him in most projects. Similar education.

Janet Danielwood
Age: 28 Years
Marital Status: Not Married, No Children
Political Compass: -0.96, 4.82
Religious: Yes. Christian.
Experience / Education: Has a strong education in Geology and Associated Subjects.

Nicola Rose
Age: 43 Years
Marital Status: Married, No Children
Political Compass: 5.84, 2.16
Religious: No.
Experience / Education: Educated in the Field of Marine Biology. Also has some Geology experience, but no formal education.

Central Communications Hub #26c81B

Just how the message from the Segments filtered its way down to the depths of the ocean was something of a mystery. Abatoirian relations with the world in general was highly limited. An isolated populace was easier to control, as they didn't know what they were missing out on, after all. The day to day rigors of simply maintaining an underwater nation generally kept everyone busy enough that they didn't even think about what they were missing. Live to serve, serve to live and all. In a way, it formed a twisted reflection of the Segments' own views on how things should be. People worked tirelessly to improve their society. Granted, they did it out of fear and intimidation, and they did it for little more than being graced with continued survival, but the similarities were there.

The communications hub that received the transmission wasn't designed for this sort of thing. It was designed to coordinate the activities of the various spherical ships that trawled the trench, searching for things of interest or value. Occasionally, their expeditions hit paydirt (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=342127). More often then not, however, they simply returned with strange metals or even stranger idols. Alzis had an enormous collection of strange and eldritch statuettes. It seemed they were always being dumped in the ocean, and it seemed their unnatural composition resulted in their being able to withstand the titanic pressure at the bottom of the world.

Regardless of intent, the fact still remained that the communications hub had received the transmission from Advisor Hertzfeldt. It was appropriately flagged and sent on up the usual chain of command, eventually landing on Alzis' desk. Abatoir might have a lot of bureaucracy, but it was strangely efficient. As if people's lives depended on it. He was aware of the strange seismic event that was being looked into, and was quite interested in finding out the cause. He quickly patched into a communications buoy and sent a personal response.


Begin Encryption: tight beam; personal; Alzis-1b
To: Advisor Jon Hertzfeldt, Federated Segments of Scolopendra
From: Advisor Stephan Alzis, Underwater Demesne of Abatoir
Regarding: Scientific Endeavor

Dear Sir,

I realize that our nations have had little to no interaction previous to this transmission; however, I believe that we can offer somewhat unique expertise and interest in the endeavor you've mentioned in your global transmission.

As a nation at the bottom of the ocean, we are quite concerned about the thought of the sea swallowing up an entire nation. If the source of this disappearance is indeed geological, volcanic, or most anything short of the strange machinations of fractal reality, we are deeply concerned. Most natural causes would be a potential hazard to our nation. Preparedness is the key to aquatic power, after all.

In the spirit of both helping the international community, as well as protecting our own best interests, I would very much like to be able to send a small team to join you on this mission. I have attached a small dossier of the potential candidates for you to review.

I look forward to hearing from you.

~ Stephan Alzis


Dossier

Stephan Alzis
Sex: Male
Position: Governmental advisor
Bio: Team leader, official government representative.
Goran Ivanlic
Sex: Male
Position: Deep Sea Operative
Bio: Security for Advisor Alzis; Goran is not only skilled in the use of deep-water pressure suits, but is also qualified for training others in their use.

Sanja Djukanovic
Sex: Female
Position: Linguistics professor
Bio: Able to ease translation issues for a multinational team, even when translation devices aren't handy; marine biology hobbyist.

Navenka Ivanova
Sex: Female
Position: Senior diplomat
Bio: While primarily a diplomat, Navenka also has extensive knowledge of odd geological phenomena.

Hertzfeldt blinks in the bright artificial sunlight as he looks down at his communications unit, one of those blocky Scolopendran affairs that act as a cell phone, PDA, wireless terminal, digital camera, and illegal boxing glove weights all at the same time. Looking down, he notes that they come straight from his office in Stonozka, relaying responses to his all-points-bulletin. Smiling, he politely excuses himself from the TerraEngineer observation of the El Sentiel landings and begins composing responses.

Thank-yous and polite acknowledgements to Austar Union and Abatoir, with addendums letting his staff know to coordinate with those two nations--Personnel, of course, and Operations to make sure the Austaran portages at the Isle of Ravenspire could handle the boat... which is surprisingly big for its mass. Has to be, though... science takes up more room than war, most times. He also sends a note to Operations to let everyone know the specs of the ship, after much buildup. Jon knows the TME engineers will be proud to show off their handiwork, especially as deep-sea subs are something new for them.

SCS-SSRN al-Samakah
Seaview-class Submersible Ship, Research, Nuclear

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tmbalsamakah-fore.jpg (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/alsamakah-fore.jpg)

Engineering: TME Industries Hydrodynamics Division
Construction: Paradigm Shipyards, Southgard

Powerplant: TME Industries 40K magnetohydrodynamic (MHD) Fusion Core
Primary Propulsion: Two flow-through waterbreathing resistojets
Secondary Propulsion: Eight pressurized maneuvering waterjets

Length: 210 meters
Draft: 38 meters (hull) 55 meters (nacelles) 58 meters (wingspan)
Beam: 28 meters
Displacement: 10,000 tons

Safe cruising speed: 22 knots
Emergency flank speed: 33 knots

Safe Operating Depth: 400 to 800 meters
Crush Depth: 1,200 meters

Sensor Equipment:Fore/aft navigational sonar
Ground-scanning sonar
Additional scientific equipment
Auxillary Craft:Four helicopters
Two super-heavy microsubs (SHMS) (200 ton displacement maximum)
Four heavy microsubs (HMS)(100 ton displacement maximum)

Crew: 1082 duty officers
10 engineers
3 doctors
5 helipad technicians
10 communication technicians
24 SHMS personnel
28 HMS personnel
16 helicopter personnel
10 vehicle technicians
3 cooks
Passengers: 50

Facilities:Sample Isolation and Analysis Lab
Biology Lab
Geological Sample Analysis Lab
Seismic Data Collation Lab
Hermetic Circle/Thaumatology Lab
Cartography Lab
Anthropology Lab
Chemistry Labs (Standard and Isolated)
Recreation Room
Forward Lounge
Class A Dining Hall
Tooling Machine Shop
Microfabber
18-bed Full-Operation Sickbay
2,700.5 tons of bulk cargo or scientific equipment
500 tons of isolated storage
Emergency Equipment: 23 auto-ascent escape pods (7-person capacity each)

OOC: Check TG, Sco.

Everything has its downside, Captain Tariqiyyun, a short but stocky olive-skinned man with a surprisingly fair complexion under his thick and long but closely kept black beard, mutters as he peers over the calm blue sea, bringing his blocky metal field glasses to his eyes so he can see the very tip of the Isle of Ravenspire over the horizon. The cruise from Southgard to Ravenspire for all intents and purposes is al-Samakah's shakedown cruise, and they'd put her through her paces: diving to depth, emergency surfacing, safe speed, flank speed... and one particular thing bugs Abdullah. It bothers him because it's his responsibility as master of the ship--which came naturally, being the senior submariner in the Science Section, running subs around Titan and the Ring to investigate the aquatic biomes that formed there--and he gets the sinking feeling it may come in handy sooner or later.

His problem is this: al-Samakah was designed primarily by aerospace engineers, who are mostly concerned with how quickly and cheaply one can get from point A to point B; thus the resistojet engines. However, the resistojets have notably sluggish performance at very low speeds and no performance at full stop; one has to use the docking thrusters to start getting water through the engines before they can be used for primary thrust. Add to this that al-Samakah cannot take on or deploy its parasite ships at speed, because opening the side doors increase drag so much and it isn't so paranoid that he has sitting-duck fears, especially if this place is as dangerous as everyone says it is.

Leaning forward with his elbows leaning on the deck, feet holding him up from the ladder as he stands through the open forward-port hatch, he carefully lets his field glasses back down to dangle from their lanyard around his neck and picks up the solid black-plastic handset of the communications phone cradled underneath the hatch's rim. "Hangar deck, Captain. Ready a utility 'copter for launch and tell N'bangu to get ready to go on ahead of us. I'll be on the bridge."

The helipad tech on the other side of the line transmits his acknowledgement, and Tariqiyyun sets back down the ladder, closing the hatch behind him and moving quickly so he doesn't get in the way of the tech who's going to need to climb up and prep the helicopter for launch. He'll return topside for port operations, but he has some time until then.

The dome that was used to launch the spherical submarine was a masterwork in its own right. Despite the incredible pressure that constantly bore down on it, it seemed to have no trouble holding up, nor did it show any interest in weakening. The cavernous dome held little more than the massive sphere. Spheres were woefully inefficient underwater, producing absurd amounts of drag, they were also the most resistan to pressure, both internal and external. The submarines of Abatoir were based on the designs of their ancient space-craft. While they were less effective underwater, their engines were more than enough to compensate. Granted, they used excessive amounts of nuclear fuel in their reactors, they were still shockingly agile.

The dome slowly filled with sea water pumped in from the outside. Once the dome was filled, it slowly split in the middle and retracted. Since the building was already full of water, the crushing pressure of onrushing ocean water was dramatically reduced. The sphere rocked slightly and then powered up, rocketing towards the surface.

After reaching a depth of about 100 fathoms, the sphere's bay opened and a sleek craft propelled out. The craft was of obvious Shogonate design, and had been won in an auction what seemed a life-time ago. The craft cut through the water smoothly, the drag seemingly nonexistant after travelling in the sphere.

Outside the Isle of Ravenspire, it left the water and cruised lazily through the air, landing outside of the pre-arranged meeting place. The four Abatoirians disembarked, and Alzis watched as the craft returned back to the sea.

The Abatoirians were dressed in similar black uniforms, the only difference designating their position in the rigidly structured Abatoirian society. Alzis' uniform had gold trim, and a small, largely unrecognizable insignia on his collar. Goran's uniform had red trim with a small red 'M' on the collar. Sanja and Navenka uniform's had nothing to distinguish them, civilians not earning special recognition. They each also carried black carryall bags slung over their soldier.

The were all had decidedly Serbian features (dark hair, dark eyes) except Alzis. Alzis looked something out of a Nazi propaganda poster: blonde hair and stunningly blue eyes. While the others wore dark sunglasses to protect their eyes from the natural light, Stephan seemed to be unbothered by it. He was also clearly in charge, just from the deference paid to him by his subordinates. Without any delay (as much as his companions would love to enjoy the fresh air, they had no desire to shirk in front of Alzis), the group of four set out to locate their Scolopendran contact to see about setting things in motion.

"Doctor Wigglesworth, the Scolopendrans have arrived in dock," reported a lonely man.

Smith nodded, "Thankyou. Ready my equipment, we leave when they say so."

Heading out towards the port, Smith actually didnt live too far. And even despite the fact that he had an assistant at home looking after everything, he still insisted on closing and locking the door. Standard practise the man held, and he could at least relax somewhat as he wandered along the path that the rest of the team members had been notified of the 'pendran arrival. He would be the only one heading down for now, considering the fact that he had been designated 'Team Leader', afterall. Which in the meantime had been appointed directly from the Haven-famous Riddick, commander of the Isle. It had been designed in fact a military outpost if anything so it made for some poor architecture, and could make it understandable why Riddick could seem to impose himself so much on society within the facility.

Because of the way things worked, the Tower took over all duties regarding thaumaturgy, science, and everything in between in Weyr. A seeping, festering mass of beurocratic 'scientists' and 'engineers' that spent more time bickering and fighting with itself, habitually settling arguments over who got to use the Third Floor Patterning Lab on mondays with duels, assasinations, and accidental attempts at flight through two inches of reinforced stresglass and diamond from the three hundredth floor was, of course, much better suited for dealing with foreigners than the government that tried to run Weyr by leaving everything to work itself out, the thinking went.

Three hours after the al-Samakah left Southgard, High 'King' Kira pushed through in ten minutes an Act in Council that folded the Ministry of Thaumaturgy, which should have been handling the expedition, into the Tower's control sphere, officiating the Status Quo and making everyone happy with the resulting decrease in government operating costs.

Which was the reason the Scolopendran-designed and Weyrean-built submarine left Southgard with a geoturge and a multipurpose alchemist on board instead of a government representative. The geoturge had spent two years studying why Weyr, a quite stable geologic formation, suddenly grew a mountain range across its middle at the end of the Sixty Minute War, and figured maybe the <Kill Bill-esque name-bleeping screech>an incident was related. The alchemist was overdue for a paid vacation, which allowed the Tower to kill two birds with one stone. For a Weyrean, any trip out of the country was a vacation, most of the time. Having nothing better to do, the two Weyreans were sleeping in the forward lounge of the al-Samakah, in almost identical blues that would not have been out of place on a nineteenth century european officer.

Isle of Ravenspire, Prearranged Meeting Place

The description of exactly where the airfield is that one of al-Samakah's two utility shuttles landed is probably best left to others, but it is hopefully safe to say that the two hundred meter dark grey ellipse of the research submarine is clearly visible near the mouth of the harbor, lying low in the waves and careful not to swim into waters too shallow for her. The meeting place is in the conference room nearest the pad, appropriately matching the local style.

Inhabiting the room are three Scolopendrans, two rather unimpressive men in civilian flight suits that make up the helo's operating crew, and one very dark man with short, curly black hair, a slightly jutting jaw, broad mouth, and a slightly depressed bridge to his nose which, to those knowledgable in such things, indicates his Mbuti heritage. Most people would probably recognize that heritage--more commonly known in the Western world as "pygmy," as much as the Mbuti and their bretheren hate that term--more by his height of about 145 centimeters. Prone to smiling seemingly literally from ear to ear with definitively upturned corners to his lip and well-built, he makes up for his lack of stature with his engaging personality.

"Glad to meet you all," he says in a cheerful voice, something of a constant laugh in the way the skin crinkles in the corners of his eyes. This is a man who enjoys being alive. "Doctor Wigglesworth, read your dossier, very glad to have someone with your expertise on board." The kind of person who likes slapping one's back as he shakes one's hand, he moderates his cultural emphasis on contact by simply adding a little extra slap to the now-universal handshake. "Mister Alzis, good to see someone of your stature with us, heh. We've got some Weyrians back on Sam and I'll be sure to introduce y'all when we get back.

"I'm Chief Engineer N'bangu," he continues with a broad yet close-lipped smile, "but most people just call me Wan. I've got a chopper waiting to take you over to Sam, so you can get a look at the ship before we dock and we start loading any baggage you may have. If ya got any questions, I'll do my best to answer.

al-Samakah, Forward Lounge

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/seaview.gif

The forward lounge, a squat yet wide room at the immediate dorsal-fore of al-Samakah is notable for two things: first is its lack of any rectangular surface, although the aft bulkhead, the floor, and the various tables make an attempt at rectilinearity by at least being flat; second is the large concave elliptical window that dominates the forward wall, thick and made of a suitably fantastic material to withstand pressure just as well as the rest of the hull. Just in case, however, it is additionally supported by thick hexagonal frames of hullmetal, which don't obscure the view too much. The rest of the room is taken up by furniture too curved and artistic to meet the Scolopendran stereotype of bare-bones ergonomic utilitarianism; everything is comfortable and artful and this may indicate a deference to the ship's Weyrian builders.

Other than the Weyrians, the lounge is essentially deserted; the rest of the operational crew is making ready for port operations and taking on cargo and supplies. The only other occupant is a slightly portly man looking out the window and sketching, the sunlight glinting off his gold-rimmed spectacles between dark, slightly cavernous brows.

With a strong back, Smith could handle the slap from the 'Pendran, even despite the fact it was rather forceful. Nevertheless, he had done his research on everyone who would be there, and knew the man - including his quirks. He took to slap, and shook the man's hand with both of his own, in a strong firm grip. Equally as strong, he wouldnt exactly let himself be dominated by someone he hadnt properly met yet, nor would he however take command of the operation. It was their mission, and he was more of a... tag along than anything. An observer if you like. Such observers, and participants could find it bad practise if they disrespected the captains and crew of their own ships.

"Thankyou, I'm glad to be aboard," he replied. "I too have read your own dossier, and look forward to working alongside you. Hopefully we can make some good headway, 'ey?"

Smiling, he looked out to the Ocean and breathed in deeply. So beautiful it was, the natural painting which surely the God's must have created for him. Not that he was one of the religious or daft folk of course, but rather that he did like the idea that perhaps there was someone, or something responsible for the great work that was the Earth. Studying geology and the rock formations observed by himself, he had found an appreciation for the simple things. The lines which defined the ages of formation, the cracks which represented the passing time, of weathering wind or rain. And those with the softer sediments, which represented strongly the moisture that had been. Yes, this would be an interesting mission indeed, and the expedition which could last for weeks, perhaps even months, was just beginning. Besides, he might as well appreciate the work he would be undertaking. There would be a heckload of rocks to sort through, to find the great and mysterious reason why nature had a tendancy to kill entire land structures.

"'At's funny, I can't rightfully remember if the Science Section made dossiers on us or not." The short man winks, theatrically putting one finger to his nose. "Good at finding what's hidden, I see. Or not so hidden." Shrugs and smiles. "Either way, perfect for a mission like this--you do the science and I'll make sure the ship works."

Smith began what would be considered a large grin, which eventually turned into a hearty chuckle.

"Agreed," he replied after regaining his composure. "Anyhow, I hope you dont mind me making a quick call. I will have my team link up with us back at Sam, if you dont mind. With them they will have any equipment nessasary, including my own."

Waiting for the 'Pendran's approval, he wandered just a few steps away. Habitual as it was, human correctness told him that the practise was indeed rather pointless. The man would still be able to hear his 'private' call, and even if he did - it wouldnt really matter. Hardly were he keeping any secrets from him anyhow. In the meantime, as the call went through and the team being notified by his own personal assistant, Smith was left to consider the mission. Pondering ahead, he thought of the Weyrians to meet later. Smiling inwardly, he looked forward to it. Only rumours had been passed forth about that nation - some good, some bad. A real life example, would be much more accurate. And three would provide a stable rock from which to build his knowledge from, surely.

N'bangu certainly offers Wigglesworth as much space as he politely can, quickly tuning out his conversation as he turns to Alzis and his men. "So, I believe you're from Abatoir, right? Underwater, so I heard. I bet your experience will be well appreciated by Cap'n Tariqiyyun. Couldn't help but notice the unique mix in your team--leaving the geology to others?"

<Level 0 Classification>
<Sent via ANSINet>
<Top Secret- BIGOT>
To: Advisor Jon Hertzfeldt, Science Section, the Federated Segments of Scolopendra
From: Secretary Rajiv Chopra, Department of Scientific Advancement, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon
Subject: Seismic Activities

Advisor Hertzfeldt,

Various national and international scientific organizations, as well as the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) have been hard at work in Tiburon to find an answer to this most pressing and puzzling situation in Northern Haven. The creation of a new body of water, while strategically beneficial for the USF, places concerns that significantly larger seismic events are to occur, which may have grave implications for the nations of Haven. We would be more than willing to have a joint scientific team set up to investigate and solve the problem- the fate of all nations in Haven may depend on it.

The field headquarters for the Western Haven section is in Choushoudong, Shen-Zhou, and the general headquarters is in 301 Tolstata Road, Nashigi Argayel, Former Alliance State.

Because of the standing alliance, there is no need to give special clearance to any ships. All Scolopendran ships have automatic clearance in Tiburonese waters.

Sincerely,
Rajiv Chopra
Secretary of Scientific Advancement
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

--<Transmission Type: Standard Interdepartmental Memorandum>--
-<Sender: Advisor Jon Hertzfeldt, FSS>-
-<Destination: Secretary Rajiv Chopra, USFT>-
--<Subject: Re: Seismic Activities>--

Secretary Chopra:

Your offer of assistance is greatly appreciated. The civilian research vessel al-Samakah has already made port in the Isle of Ravenspire, but it should be taking on supplies and additional crew there for about a week. If you can assemble a team and get them to Ravenspire before al-Samakah breaks port, that would be most convenient; if not, you can send a boat to rendezvous with us either inside or outside the region we've designated Haven Fractal Anomaly One (HFA-1). Our currently planned course is mapped below.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/hfa-1.gif

Region Alpha was the location of a subsidiary landfall that occured at the same time as HFA-1 with exactly the same details surrounding it. While it is generally considered one and the same with HFA-1 (hence its standing inside of the red boundaries on the map), it is a separate landmass and geologically it is highly unlikely that it should have fallen along with the rest.

Regions Bravo, Charlie, and Delta are all former coastline and, by relation, where we hope to learn the most about why this event did not affect the western Haven landmass any more than it did. Our satellite imagery of the event showed a very clear-cut collapse, almost like the controlled implosion of a building, which of course defies all our current knowledge of tectonics and vulcanology. It could be possible that previously unknown and inactive fault lines existed, putting HFA-1 on its own microplate, as it were, but the likelihood of this seems highly suspect. While the dust has mostly settled, there is still sufficient particulate dirt and metals (especially the latter) in the water to foil mapping by orbiting radar platforms. Submarine scanning sonar systems should not be affected, so al-Samakah will be an ideal platform for investigating these regions.

Region Echo is subject to change; it appeared to be the primary subduction point according to analysis of our orbital imaging of the event. This would suggest the presence of some sort of relatively porous ground which, when combined with the fracturing along the above regions, could have caused a cracking in the thin HFA-1 plate and caused it to buckle more or less radially from Region Echo, sucked down at the middle while pushed up at its edges before finally collapsing. This is highly uncertain due to the obscurance caused by smoke and dispersed debris in the atmosphere; while it seems our best bet for finding a 'prime mover' for the HFA-1 event at the moment it is subject to change upon further discovery.

Thank you for your interest, Secretary Chopra, and we hope to see your team aboard al-Samakah.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/jon_hertzfeldt.gifAdvisor Jon Hertzfeldt
Science Section
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

--<End Transmission>--

(OOC: Don't worry too much about how your people come aboard unless you think it may be important later [or else you just want to]. Everyone can be considered to have received the HFA-1 briefing at one point or another.)

As the submarine sits in port, a small cutter bearing the markings of the Cetagandan Space Service approaches the ship and lands upon its helicopter pad. A man steps out, followed by a many-wheeled trunk that rolls along behind him. He is of average height and quite thin, has short auburn hair, and wears a standard all-purpose shipsuit, which bears the purple and silver strips that indicate he's part of a exploration vessel's science staff, along with what look to be glasses. Around his waist is a personal computer, a tool kit, a flashlight laser, and a variable sword. He presents his credentials and after stowing his belongings and equipment he makes his way forward to the lounge.

Looking around and seeing that Wigglesworth is talking on some kind of communicator, he approaches N'bangu and the others. "Hello. I'm Generalist Nicholas Alden, from the Cetagandan Science Directorate. A pleasure to meet you all."

Name: Nicholas Franklin vor'Alden
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Degrees: BA History, BS General Planetology , BS Theoretical Thaumatology, MS Information Science (UU), ImpSci Generalist Certification, Psi & Matrix Technician Certifications (Hali Tower)
Employer: Cetagandan Space Service, attach. LSU Galactic Burglar
Rank: Civilian Science Staff, W-3
Position: Generalist
Kyle Psionics Scale Rank: P-4 (1/10,000) - trained in location/object history recall & minor applied thaumatology
Weapons training: Small arms, limited close-combat self-defense

Smith, who was now off his personal communication device turned to face the new addition to the team. Recognising his face from the dossier he had been given briefing him of the mission in general, he smiled at the man and extended his hand in friendship. Unlike the man however, Smith was relatively unarmed - unless one counted the Martial Arts as a natural weapon. His equipment was being flown in, so...

"Ah, Mister Alden." he greeted, after the Scolopendran of course. "I am glad to finally meet you. I hear you are quite the educated one"

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Smith," Alden replies with a toothless grin, before going on to explain, "My education is goes along with my line of work. Rather than knowing a great deal about one subject, a generalist such as myself knows a little bit about most everything. To be certified by the Science Directorate, I needed at least one degree in the social sciences, physical sciences, metaphysical science, plus a final library or information science degree. Our job is take all the things that specialists discover and correlate it into one whole and look for cross-applications. For example, math discovered by a FTL physicist may also have applications in modeling weather patterns, but a meteorologist may never see that math unless someone like myself points them at it."

Mwanu blinks. "Now I distinctly remember being on shore not more than thirty seconds ago... and. Hm." He shakes his head and grins through closed lips. "Mister Charcoal told me to expect stuff like this; I suppose I should've listened to him instead of laughed." He looks at Wigglesworth... oddly, but decides that telling him to stop referring to information he couldn't possibly have seen would just make him look more crazy so he just shrugs it off as he walks over to the intercom and picks up the handset. "N'bangu, Captain. Our visitors are here in..." He looks around to orient himself, looking out the thick plexiglas window out onto the ocean. "Forward lounge. Yessir. No, I don't know how I got here. Yessir. Thanks."

Hanging up, he turns around with a nonchalant clap and a broad, if slightly wry, smile. "Well then. I've called Captain Tariqiyyun, he'll be up shortly after he collects our own science staff."

It was an interesting method of choice for arriving, but the fact that they arrived was the important part. Being lowered down to a submarine in the frigid waters by a Navy AH-8190 Lightning Spark was certainly not the best method to arrive at the al-Samakah, but it would have to do. A young sailor- it was impossible to determine the rank without the letters "CW03 Lamiel Illustria" printed on the back- came down first with ease. The next three, however, had a more difficult time. The first was a tall, middle-aged moderately thin man in a lab coat and glasses, the next being a middle-aged woman of moderate weight, and the last being a short, squat, balding man.

The sailor- Chief Warrant Officer Third Class Lamiel Illustria- stood at strict military attention, whereas the others nervously glanced around and smiled, hoping to break the ice.

C.W.O. 3rd Class Lamiel Illustria
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Mission Occupation: Naval Technician, Marine Biologist
Occupation: Chief Warrant Officer, Third Class, USF Navy
Employer: United Solaris Federation Navy
Education: Currently studying marine biology for his masters at the USF Naval Academy. Chief Warrant Officer 3rd Class of the TSN Indomitable in marine biology.

Dr. Yzule Junaya
Age: 43
Gender: Male
Mission Occupation: Head Researcher for the Combined Tiburonese Effort, Ecological and Molecular Biologist
Occupation: Head of Biological Research, Axavia Biotech, Inc.
Employer: Axavia Biotechnologies, Incorporated
Education: Received seperate Ph.D.s in Marine, Terrestrial, Atmospheric, Ecological, and Macromolecular Biology from Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island, North America, Tiburon

Dr. Miriallia Sinoa
Age: 38
Gender: Female
Mission Occupation: Assistant Head Researcher for the Combined Tiburonese Effort, Geologist and Seismologist
Occupation: Head of the Geological Studies Department of the National Geographic Society.
Employer: The National Geographic Society
Education: Received a Ph.D. in Geology and a Ph.D. in Seismology at the Indian Institute of the Pure Sciences in Kannapur, India, Tiburon

Dr. Pisore Yulstali
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Mission Occupation: Head Chemist for the Combined Tiburonese Effort, Geologist and Seismologist
Occupation: Assistant Head Chemist at Merck Pharmaceuticals.
Employer: Merck Pharmaceuticals
Education: Received a Ph.D. in Chemistry at the University of Shiba in Shiba, Japan, Tiburon

Alden blinks, shakes his head, and then seems to look off into the distance a moment. "Well, that was odd. My feed from the Imperial Library stuttered for a instant there. That's not exactly the sort of thing multiple-redudant QE links are supposed to do. Huh, position changed and a person appeared, too. " He purses his lips, then adds, "It didn't feel like a standard FTL jump, either, which is interesting given the nature of tesseract travel, I wonder if any orbital sensors tell me if it was instaneous?" Alden cuts off as he realises that he's talking to himself.

The indigo-haired Weyrean slowly uncurls from her sleeping position, almost catlike as she sits up in the sofa with her legs folded beneath her, wondering why there are suddenly so many people around. She rubs her eyes, stretches, long ears returning to their normal shape, still in a sort of waking dream limbo, feeling sweaty and icky. Her feel slip off the comfy bit of sofa, and into a pair of overly worn boots that had come from a war surplus store. That is when she notices her jacket is gone, which drives the other people out of her head. A glance pins down the culprit, sleeping on another couch.

She snatches her jacket -- the one that has a badge with Katrina Lindsey-Cao written on it -- off the still-sleeping geoturge, and kicks him, the toe of her heavy boot impacting just beneath the rib cage. How the geoturge continues to sleep is a good question, and might have something to do with the composition of a jacket issued by the Tower at Wye, one of which is still draped over the man like a blanket, covering his face.

"Bastard," she switches her attention to the others, pulling on the thick blue garment over her black T-shirt. "Wan," she nods to the short 'Pendran, "People." What else do you do when you're a Weyrean and want to acknowledge someone else's existence without knowing what's going on.

al-Hazred Tariqiyyun, captain of al-Samakah, returns after guiding the Tiburonese to the forward lounge with four more people in tow. He's been described before, and he looks over everyone in the lounge carefully, registering them in his mind. "Welcome aboard my ship," he begins in a measured voice, sufficiently hospitable but not exactly friendly. "My crew and I are honored to have you all as passengers. Please make yourself at home and let us know if there's anything we can do for you.

"I know you've all seen the basic plan," he continues, gesturing towards a flatscreen on the wall that displays the submarine's current position in relation to the northwestern quadrant of Haven, "but it is only tenative. We'll be spending a few more days here in port to get all of your equipment arranged and take on a few more passengers, but after that, we set sail. We can make Region Alpha in good time and that's when the science starts. I will entertain suggestions as to changes in course when the time comes."

Stepping aside, he presents the other people with him. "Here are the heads of our native Scolopendran staffs. This," he introduces a slightly stocky yet rock solid woman with pale, freckled skin, almost straw-like hair, and an almost perpetually bug-eyed expression, "is Professor Mireya Ugolini, our resident anthropologist and archaeologist." As she bows shortly in the usual 'Pendran style, Abdullah moves on to the next, a taller woman with an average build, brown hair, and a skin tone either denoting a 'healthy' tan or just naturally being somewhat darker than 'caucasian;' her features suggest the former. "Doctor Chelsie Moscoffian, our vulcanologist."

She nods. "My specialty is modeling and investigating the interactions between the crust and the mantle at the Mohorovicic discontinuity. I've read some of your works, Doctors Sinoa and Wigglesworth. I'd like to hear what ideas you've come up with regarding our mission."

Once she's done, the captain moves on to the next, a just-barely short and slight man who stands up straighter to make up for it, with keen eyes behind rectangular pince-nez. "This is Professor Kyong Ramesar, our head biologist."

"Actually, almost a xenobiologist. I specialize in Awakened animals," Kyong announces in a quiet yet firm voice. "We would call it thaumabiology, but that doesn't quite dance on the tongue as it were. Maybe metabiology."

"This last," Tariqiyyun offers, "isn't a scientist although he could fool me." The man he indicates is tall, about 190-odd centimeters, and dressed in all black, trousers and thin long-sleeved turtleneck. He looks like he would make a serviceable hitman with his military bearing and his salt-and-pepper mustache and goatee, but he's smiling too much to fit that image. "This is Mister Jet Charcoal, the first shirt among the technicians. Chief Engineer N'bangu and I are technically al-Samakah's only officers; consider this man to be your liason with the working stiffs on this boat." Mister Charcoal only nods once, that introduction being sufficient for him.

Late.

Always late. It had gotten her into trouble many times before and it almost sentenced her to a swim home. A businesswoman like her wasn't supposed to be late; that was a death sentence. This explains how she wound up here, at the staging point in the Isle of Ravenspire. The Wheeling Pfactory heads decided to punish her in that not-so-subtle way. After all, the information that could be garnered from a first hand experience could prove useful in a business that made specialized recreational combat weaponry! Oh sure, she had a bit of a plate tectonics fetish, that's what made this trip ever so slightly plausible.

She hurriedly strolled over to the man who looked most in charge, a man wearing what she thought was Scolopendran garb. She thrusted her papers in his face and hurridly announced her name as Josephine Verdugo, the only individual hailing from Imnsvale to be along for this ride. The Scolopendran looked perplexed, thinking she was either some sort of poorly trained secret agent having a prank pulled on her by veteran agents, or else trying to prank him.

"Ma'am, your counterpart is already on board; your assigned room number is V-one-five point eight-five."

Josephine looked surprised, but she didn't have the time to worry about such matters. She ambled her way on board and made her way to her room where she stumbled upon her "counterpart", Miss Catherine Xpoual Wheel, who introduced herself as a research archaeologist from the remote town of Poet's Nightmare. Josephine had never seen a real seldane before and was surprised the seven foot hulking blue giant was as comfortable as she was on a submarine. Catherine was nice enough to relay the salient details of the HFA-1 briefing to an exhausted Josephine, who soon passed out. Showing the ever common seldane sereneness, Catherine went back to reading mission-related papers.

The week of loading supplies goes quickly, with most everyone being too busy (read: made too busy by the aescetic Scolopendrans) arranging various scientific and metascientific instruments in al-Samakah's laboratories. She isn't claustrophobic, not being a warship, but she is cramped; the passageways are large enough for two people to squeeze past each other shoulder to shoulder and the passenger quarters would be moderately spacious if it weren't for the fact that they are designed to fill the roles of office, study, and personal lab concurrent with the primary function of living space. End result--her beds are bunked and rather close, but far more comfortable than the average spacer's or sailor's bedding.

The two ship's officers, Tariqiyyun and N'bangu, make themselves scarce--Tariqiyyun is too busy working with the navigation crew to formulate a course, and N'bangu is too busy with the engineering department making sure the boat is ready to sail. The 'Pendran scientific technicians, on the other hand, have to work closely with the passengers in order to get everything arranged just so, and a good portion of the week is dedicated to briefings by the parasite craft operators on how to safely operate the mining and research microsubs stored safely in their separate hulls on the lower decks.

Once the week is out and everything is in place, the captain gives the order to leave port and set a course for Region Alpha, the first stop in the exploration of HFA-1. It takes the large submarine some time to pick up speed, but soon she is keeping up a good clip of around twenty-one knots, skimming some twenty meters under the surface. The voyage is underway.

Unlike many of his new colleagues, Alden has relatively little to set up during the week of preparations. While the starship he had been serving aboard just prior to this mission had been far more spacious in both private and public accomodations than the submarine, he was also used to spending long periods of time on dropships even smaller than the al-Samakah during survey missions. Thus, he was well aware of how little space he would have and packed accordingly. First, he secures his trunk beneath his bunk and then plugs a thin cable from it to one of the room's access points to the ship's network. He also rolls what at first appear to be a few thin sheets of white plastic onto the wall. A gentle stroke across the center causes each sheet to blur as electrical charges run cause tiny pigment cells to change color, leaving still pictures of outdoor scenes behind after a moment. He is careful not to move the meager furniture or alter the other side of the room until he finds out whether or not he has a roommate.

He also does function checks on his small collection of robot minions, which range in size from a handful of small spidery ones the size of a thumbnail to a football-sized one with stubby legs and small manipulator arms. Most are little more than self-propelled clumps of sensors and comms equipment, and are certainly not nearly as versatile as top of the line spy equipment used by services such as the TYSS or Cetagandan Security. Seeing that all is in order, he goes through all of the labs, taking note of anything unfamiliar to him for further study, as well as watching out for anyone who might need help setting up their own equipment.

Sitting back into his somewhat cramped bunk, Smith watched with fair intent his screen load to the next page. Linked via the DataLink via a series of modems and sattelite equipment, one could say that his link was slighly slower than the cables which would normally be used back at home. However, at the same time anyone unfamiliar with Austarian technology would think the connection fairly slow. Bah, details, details. In the meantime with a right-click, he copied and pasted some further research documentation he found rather interesting. There was little else to do while the submarine craft was in transition to the next point of destination anyhow.

Sighing, he closed the screen down and set his laptop onto the blankets of his bed. One ought to socialize to understand the dynamics of the men around him, and afterall - there was a multitude of time to kill. Perhaps cards would make a good option.

ALTIMIT Broadcaster
Encryption: Standard
Broadcast type: Regular
To: Captain al-Hazred Tariqiyyun of the al-Samakah, Advisor Jon Hertzfeldt
Return transmission band: Open
IDENT: Pirika Drakos, Arpean Thaumatology Institute

My apologies for not contacting Advisor Jon Hertzfeldt regarding this sooner, but things have been hectic for the ATI since events recently at the palace. We have one staffer with the time and interest to attend this research mission, and you may find her to be particularly suited for underwater research. Attached is her dossier, and she can rendevous with your ship whenever it is deemed appropriate. She is also extremely low-maintenence, and has already expressed that if there's no room on board, that she can go the entire voyage with little more accomodation than a tow-rope. (This may actually be easier for all parties involved, as she is quite a bit more at home in the water than on a boat, if previous experience is any indication.)

Crystal Delphi
Age: 3 years
Type: Delphi model amphibious reploid
Gender designation: Female
Mission occupation: Advance scout, deep-water exploration/mapping
Normal occupation: Deep-water exploration/mapping, outpost research unit, specializing in oceanic thaumaturgic phenomena
Employer: Arpean Thaumatology Institute, Arpean Geological Survey
Education: Received Ph.D-equivilent certifications from the ATI and AGS in thaumaturgic geology, general thaumaturgic phenomena, and oceanic geology

~Pirika Drakos
~Arpean Thaumatology Institute
<End Transmission>

Dr. Miriallia Sinoa

Aaaaaah.

Miriallia reclined back in her small, yet cozy hammock. She traveled light by any standards, and generally was comfortable in places her colleagues called "cramped" or "stuffy". Heh. Claustrophobes. She connected the computer to the Nets, set an alarm to wake up in a couple of hours, and began to drift off to sleep. She wasn't as used to the kzinti-human bi-use proportions as the standard human use proportions, but she would manage. And she needed her rest to explore HFA-1. The possibilities were tantalizing.
-----------------------------------------------------
CWO3 Lamiel Illustria

Shit.

Lamiel finally remembered the problem that had been bugging him throughout the trip to the al-Samakah. He knew something was unsettling about sending an unarmed submarine into these waters. And he remembered why. Racing down the corridors of the ship to the captain's quarters, he cursed himself for being so stupid. He could have gotten them all killed back on the Indomitable if he thought at this rate. The waters of most of the HFAs were formerly home to an intensely hostile and armed peoples, one that fought to the death and would destroy their enemies. The nations involved had all assumed that the people had died or dispersed throughout the rest of the region, never to return to the area. It was a safe assumption to make. It was also one that could get them all killed. They had to be prepared for hostile action.

Delphi is quickly accepted into the mission and offered some room in the hangar deck, even if it requires the partial disassembly of one of al-Samakah's four utility helicopters. With everything ship-shape and steaming at full cruise, "The Fish" makes twenty knots towards the nub of Tarasovka that remains sticking out of what used to be a larger island.

Captain Tariqiyyun's Quarters
Deck 1, Frame 25, Compartment 0

The news from the 'officer of the watch' (the term loosely applied to a technician responsible for both the radio and navigation) just dropped off on the captain's desk doesn't bring a smile to Abdullah's face. It would require a slight diversion, possibly for nothing, but 'Pendran maritime law demands he at least investigate; given that al-Samakah is a deep-sea sub and has ocean-bottom investigation capability for a reason, it is perfectly suited for the new situation.

Then again, al-Samakah is the only wet ship flying the colors of the Segments on Earth, much less the only wet ship on Earth in the Federal Service. Not a good omen, at least, the bearded man thinks to himself.

The Tiburonese warrant officer probably has to skirt past the technician in the passageway as he bursts into al-Hazred's compartment. The captain doesn't even look up from his sheet of onionskin; his only sign of acknowledgement is the word "Yes?" said in a tone closer to imperative than interrogative.

CWO3 Lamiel Illustria

Lamiel nearly wilted at the tone of the captain standing before him, but quickly regained composure at the thought of the gravity of his information. "Sir! There may be a problem regarding the safety of this mission. The previous inhabitants of HFA-1 were a militaristic society, and the danger that the society's navy is still active at this very moment. Going through without some form of viable defense for the ship may result in a compromised expedition, sir."

He waited for some sort of noticable effect on the captain- but also braced himself for an impact with a torpedo of some kind. He had studied North Haven cultures as a minor in college, and such was the nature of the peoples of HFA-1.

Captain Tariqiyyun nods, puts down the slip of onionskin with type on it, and folds his hands together before leaning back in his simple utilitarian chair. His sharp eyes look past his long and carefully kept black beard up at Lamiel, and with his lips obscured it can't be told if he smirks or not, although his voice is quite steady and serious. "We know full well that the previous inhabitants were too violent for their own good; that same bullheadedness and history of aggression is what got them pre-emptively put down by Zero-One, if I remember the rationalizations on the news at all. What do you suggest, Warrant Officer?"

CWO3 Lamiel Illustria

Lamiel nodded. It was quite clear that, although he may not have expected dismissal, had certainly prepared for it, but was prepared to give an answer all the same. "Well, there is no 'Pendran Navy on the Earth, so to speak of. Of Scolopendra's allies that I know of here, there's ourselves and the Menelmacari, although they're on the other Havenic continent."

"Now, the USF has holdings on this side of Haven, although, given their distance from our current position, it would be hard for the Navy to reach us in our time parameters- and some of our ships would have to pass through HFA-1. I know that there are a few cruisers stationed in 'Gunchia and Scandavia, so we might be able to call them for either support at this time or backup if necessary..."

"So you recommend moving a naval detachment into the area to run interference if nothing else?" Captain Tariqiyyun seems to ponder this for a moment. "It's outside of my league, but our wireless sets are open to you. If you think your nation's navy would be willing to expend the resources to assist and you can call in the favors to get it done, please do so. Unfortunately, we cannot delay."

He taps the sheet of paper next to him on his desk with one hard finger, like his hand battered, scarred, and calloused from hard work. "Apparently we have picked up an ULF distress signal from inside HFA-1 somewhere beyond Atlantic Island. It's registered to a Stagmomantis-class minisub like the ones in our holds; they have supplies for several weeks underwater if they're stocked right. We're not sure how long it's been down there but it's licensed to a Scolopendran metaresearch firm and we have to divert to assist... after we find them, of course. This is not exactly the first field-operation test of our bottom-scanning suite that we intended, you can see."

At first, the amphibious Crystal Delphi keeps largely to herself in her designated space- looking far more like a dolphin of some sort with just enough humanoid features to enable her to get by on land, she hates to wait for very long out of the water. So she makes certain her sparse belongings are all in order before taking it upon herself to explore the "big blind behemoth" that was to be her home base for the duration.

Much of the reploid's equipment had been brought to the sub's lab areas, so she busies herself making sure her gear is in good working order- thaumatometers, one of which was obviously a waterproofed model; a thaumatoscale, working as a sort of seismometer for thaumaturgic activity; several small waterproofed seismometers she had commandeered from the Arpean Geological Survey; and of course the usual computers needed to run the equipment.

"I can't wait to get there and get in the water." She sighs wistfully to no one in particular, keeping a sharp eye on the thaumatoscale's readings.

CWO3 Lamiel Illustria

"Well, not interference, so much as backup. I have a few Lieutenant Commander and Commander family friends in allied ports in those nations, but none of us simply have the authority to move in entire fleets. Realistically, we'd be looking at a support force of about one to two cruisers and a few destroyers at most. Even then, we wouldn't have the authority to do much except pick off anti-ship weapons in the area until either of our ships were attacked."

Lamiel grew- and looked- increasingly worried. Not since he was working the Nicobar Islands to rescue a Malaysian perimeter boat was he in real jeapordy of dying, and that wasn't from hostile fire. He moved to the wireless set to transmitting the information to various Commanders and Lt. Commanders. "I'll ask them and Shen-Zhou whether we'd be able to send resources to rescue that minisub, as well." His voice betrayed his nervousness. It was a long distance over what could potentially be hostile waters to any Tiburonese ships, and rescuing a sub was no easy task, even in these modern times.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/seaview-decks.gif
1: Captain Tariqiyyun's quarters (1-25-0)

Aft Hangar Compartment
Deck 1, Frame 45, Compartment 0

"Well, I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunity," replies one of the technicians sorting the components of the half-dismantled helicopter before lashing them down neatly so they don't roll around in case the boat maneuvers. "Scuttlebutt has it that the captain's changed course so we can investigate some lost sub. Obviously you're built for the water," he says in usual 'Pendran bluntness, "so maybe you could help."

Captain Tariqiyyun's Quarters
Deck 1, Frame 25, Compartment 0

"Thank you, Warrant Officer. Also..." The captain actually smiles for once. "Relax. Certainly this cruise is going to be risky, but all worthwhile ventures are. We're fast and we're almost silent, so if we detect anything hostile our plan is to simply run for it. Sat intel indicates no hostile combatants above or below the waves and so I'm certain the area is suitably secure. If it will ease your mind, however, please call for backup."

He chuckles softly. "Sailing into the unknown is stressful enough. I don't want anyone on my ship to be more neurotic than they absolutely have to be."

Aft Hangar Compartment
Deck 1, Frame 45, Compartment 0

"Oh hell yeah." Crystal responds, obviously proud of her aquatic capabilities. "I haven't done an actual undersea rescue before, but I have had some training in that sorta stuff."

The reploid flicks some imagined dust off her torso armor with one arm-mounted flipper. "What details have we got about the sub and its location anyway? I would assume we don't have anything near complete surveys of the seafloor and stuff in that area, but I imagine there's some specs available regarding the trapped sub."

Aft Hangar Compartment
Deck 1, Frame 45, Compartment 0

"Probably a Stagmomantis," the tech replies, pointing over to some binders on the wall. "We've got four of them in our lower holds... hrm. If you're more comfortable in the water, maybe we can move your quarters down there."

[b]Stagmomantis-class Mining Exploration Minisub

http://server106.totalchoicehosting.com/~tpjzdd/albums/Mecha/stagmomantis_ventral.thumb.jpg (http://server106.totalchoicehosting.com/~tpjzdd/gallery/Mecha/stagmomantis_ventral?full=1)

Engineering: TME Industries Hydrodynamics Division
Construction: TME Wetyards, Nuha, The Gauntlet, Titan (and Paradigm Shipyards, Southgard, Earth)

Powerplant: TME Industries 300 MHD Fusion
Propulsion: Four electrically-actuated waterscrews

Length: 18.4 meters
Draft: 13.6 meters
Beam: 7.3 meters
Displacement: 75 tons

Safe cruising speed: 20 knots
Emergency flank speed: 35 knots

Safe Operating Depth: 1,700 meters
Crush Depth: 2,000 meters

Sensor Equipment:Two Forward Searchlights
High-Definition Camera
Four Manipulator Claws
Two Lift Hoists (port and starboard)
One Earth-Moving Scoop (forward)
Four tons communications equipment

Crew: 1 to 2
Passengers: Up to 12

Facilities:18 tons of bulk cargo or scientific equipment

CWO3 Lamiel Illustria

Finally, an audible sigh of relief can be heard from the warrant officer. "Yes, sir." It's hard for most Tiburonese to shake off a certain unease when it comes to a nation that prefers the missile over the handshake when talking to others, as it was for him. "Sir, I'll inform the Navy on the minisub, if they don't have the info already." He moved over to the wireless set, and rang up Lieutenant Commander Handria.

"He's right, you know." Handria replied. "There's absolutely nothing there."

"What do you mean, nothing?! There has to be something.

"I mean what I said. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Not an aircraft carrier, not a sub, not even a mine or a trawler. Everything's just... gone. The people, the stuff- everything."

"How.... how is that even...."

"Look, I don't understand it either. I sent the message of the minisub over to Shen-Zhou, and they should be able to take care of it. But it's empty, and Commander Howley would be pissed as hell if he saw even a PT boat fly off without his knowledge."

Illustria sighed nervously. He just knew it. There was no way that everything could just disappear.

"But!"

"That's what you people are working on, right? There's a reasonable explanation for everything, including this. You'll find it out. Relax, all right? I'll ask for a ship or two to be put on standby if it makes you feel better."

"...Oh, and lighten up. I've got some good news. You passed the test- you're a full-up ensign. And I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico!" Handia chuckled at his own take on the rather annoying slogan of the rather amusing commericials. "Handia over and out."

Lamiel sighed again, and looked up. No worries and an ensignship. This was actually turning out to be a pretty good day.

Bridge
Deck 1, Frame 16, Compartment 0
Position: 50 km SSW of the remains of Atlantic Island

"Understood, Chief. Keep me posted." Captain Tariqiyyun hangs up the handset in its cradle on the wall, then turns around to the clean, efficient, and utilitarian bridge. Walking past the underlit navigation table that dominates the room, he looks over the shoulder of the technician manning the forward-scanning sonar station. "How are we coming along?"

"We're on our second pass over the site, cap'n, but we're picking up the largest debris field on the planet." The technician speaks idly but quickly in Arabic, not wanting to draw his attention from the computer-generated image in front of him. "There's no way it's related to the fish we're trying to find. May only make it harder."

"Hrm." Abdullah walks back to the intercom, takes the headset, and pushes the general PA button. "All research team leaders, please report to the bridge. We need ideas for finding a needle in a haystack."

Bridge

Arriving on the bridge, Alden studies the situation presented to them. "I can see why we're having trouble. The debris is going to obscure sonar and most any other kind of scan that we could use to find a submarine. Maybe some kind of gravtic density scan..." He pauses, looking into the distance, then shakes his head. "Same problem there. I just asked the MSU Time and Relative Dimensions in Wank to do a quite look, but he says there's too many air-filled metal hunks around, and the water could easily be concealing even high-output reactors. I suppose one of our psionics experts could try to locate the sub by it's crew, but I'm pretty sure feeling blindly about in the middle of an unexplicably sunk nation where countless millions died would not be a good idea."

"I would think not," the captain replies gruffly, folding his arms. "We did a Nautilus Maneuver on our approach to try and triangulate by the ULF signal of the beacon, but because of the exceedingly long wavelength and all the conductive material on the bottom we can't get any more certain than them being in this particular patch of ground about five kilometers in radius. Most 'Pendran gear is built for much shallower depths than their hulls can actually take. Any other ideas?"

Alden shrugs, and spreads his hands. "Maybe someone else has some equipment that might be of assistence. Otherwise, the only thing I can suggest is that we launch our parasite craft in order to increase our ability to do a brute-force search, with a tight enough sweep pattern that we should be able to locate them despite the conditions," he says apologetically. After a moment, he asks thoughtfully, "Would I be correct in assuming they've all got QE or some similar link back to al-Samakah? If that's the case, I might be able to speed up the search at least a little bit. While our radio alone can't triangulate the signal, if we get multiple sets out there they could act like a poor man's very large array. I've got access to a system that uses idle computer time aboard various Science Directorate ships and facilities that could be used to do the number-crunching. If we get enough data as we search, it might be able to narrow the target area down a lot faster."

Bridge
Ensign Lamiel Illustria

The new ensign ran back to the bridge after hearing the message. He found himself a little late, with Alsen and the captain already there, but brought himself up to speed quickly.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. "I asked our bases, and they're bringing in a submarine with rescue gear... although all the scans are coming as hazy regions instead of pinpointing specific locations. There's just too many variables with the sunken nation and the geological activity for that."

He began thinking of the VLA. "If we can find some way to increase the sensitivity of the detectors, we may be able to speed up things even more between the fleet's ships and this one. While we do that, Captain, do I have permission to link up the ship's sensor database with the Neutrino Mass Oscillation?"

Tariqiyyun nods to the ensign curtly. "Do it." Turning slightly so he can look over his shoulder at the sailor manning the wheel, he continues: "Helm, full stop." Without waiting for acknowledgement, he continues on back to the intercom phone and punches the code for the wet deck. "Wetdeck, Bridge. Tell the Stagmomantis crews to get to their subs and prepare for deployment. SAR rules. Out."

Turning back to the group, Abdullah frowns and folds his arms. "While we can do our best with sensors, they can actually see the seabed, which is a plus. I have the feeling the more ways we try to pull this off, the better."

The geoturge walks into the al-Samakh's thaumaturgy lab to find Katrina fiddling with some simple and no doubt very expensive machine that sits by itself in the lab's corner. The alchemist humms to herself, never hitting a single right note, her slender fingers rapidly keying in instructions.

"That's a patterner," the geoturge says from the open hatch after several minutes.

"Yup," she says, staring at the yellow text running across the machine's black display. "Muffin or cake?"

"What?"

"Muffin," she decides, not really hearing him.

"Muffin," he steps into the lab. "You are making a muffin with a patterner."

"Yup," she punshes the 'Compile' key and moves away from the black box. It hisses. Green light strobes through the darkened viewplate. It is mostly for show; compilation is not an exothermic process. The construction is self-sustaining, and incredibly energy efficient, because nothing leaks out of the system. It is a pocket colorimeter, in a way, although using the patterner to measure the total energy of a combustion reaction would be a waste of money. It is not a nanolathe, however, contrary to what some may think, and consumes the same power as a small desktop for the few moments that it is actually active and not just using its internal calculator to process the myriad of lines of instructions. Whatever it is, and the exact workings of a patterner are the Tower's equivalent of a State Secret, it finishes just as the captain's voice sounds from the nearest sound-box.

"Who's team leader?" Katrina asks, opening the heavy lead-mitaril door. Her white-gloved fingers gently grab the quite warm, but not hot, pastry. "Muffin?"

"Oookay. You're team leader," the geoturge says.

"Sure," the indigo-haired alchemist grins in a flash of white teeth. "Lead the way!"

Which is how Katrina winds up on the bridge of what she calls the 'Fishy-Boat'. She munches on her muffin, and just watches. There isn't much she can do, although she could possibly rig herself to the boat's power plant and turn the debris into a solid block, or get badly neural-burned. So she decides to let others handle the problem.