NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC:

The first few posts are background on this nation and its characters. The real meat of the roleplay (and how it involves the ESUS,) comes later. Don't worry. Until then, tags are welcome, but no actual IC posts please. Also, closed means closed. No comments from the peanut gallery. So if you aren't participating, please don't bother posting.

IC:

Vayaria was a land stepped in history. It boasted timeless monuments that had stood for eons. Great stone keeps and marble temples adorned the country like jewelry on a beautiful maiden, and everywhere the fruits of culture grew bountifully. The Vayarian people were not for wont of anything, and they marveled at their own magnificence.

They were strong of body, sharp of mind and fleet of foot. Like Grecian gods amongst men, fair-haired, muscular, and handsome. But like the Greek gods, they suffered from a most fatal flaw. They let their pride influence them, buoying their confidence. Soon, they began to believe they were superior, and that it was their destiny to enslave the ‘lesser peoples,’ their human brothers and sisters.

Their first target was a larger and more powerful government, for their hubris lent them a dangerous view of their own martial superiority. Needless to say, they were crushed. The names of those who destroyed them are forever lost to the mists of time, but their revenge had a more lasting impact.

Nuclear fire scorched the land, burning the great Blackwood forests like so much kindling, irradiating Vayaria’s farmland, townships, and cities for generations to come.

But the invaders were not content with the mere scouring of Vayaria. No, they wanted the people, even those who had taken shelter within caves and bunkers, to die. So they brought a great fleet of star-ships and rained death, dropping asteroids, rending whole mountain ranges with their diabolical beam-weapons.

The bombardment lasted forty days and forty nights, flooding Vayaria with greater and greater torrents of death each passing day. And finally, on the fortieth night, the bombardment stopped. Apparently, the invaders were satisfied with their genocide, and they perceived that the Vayarian people were no more.

They were very nearly right. Of the three hundred or so million Vayarians alive before the war, but a handful, some ten thousand remained scattered throughout the land. These pitiful souls were forced to eek out an existence of scavenging, looting their own heritage for food and supplies, always trying to avoid the radioactive places that gave them the ‘vomiting death.’

There were no cleanup crews to come and decontaminate the land, to cleanse it of the deadly radiation. Their society could not survive a war of that scope. Technologically they have regressed, losing even the ancient secret of gunpowder, a tool that they have only just rediscovered.

In time, they formed small kingdoms that warred with each other over scarce untainted water and food. But now, a great leader by the name of the Veygere, the cruel one, is slowly unifying the shattered Vayarian people. In his way stands the last, and most powerful kingdom: Bantus-Aliar. And that is where our story begins…

The metal tower of Aliar stood rusting and decrepit, like the kingdom it housed. It was one of a few pathetic derelicts left over from the great war.

But while the Aliarans lacked the engineering expertise to repair their beloved tower, they were able to construct a walled city of beautiful marble that surrounded the ruin. It was this city that they made their capital, and that which their king, Umbadar, ruled from.

His rule was not an easy one. The Veygere’s conquering hordes were advancing steadily, raping and pillaging as they went. They seemed unstoppable, shattering all who met them on the field of battle. Their most recent victim was an Aliaran army some thousand strong.

”Lord Umbadar! I bring most dire news! Our legion has been defeated by Veygere forces at Rabun gap!” A messenger cried, throwing himself to the ground in hope that his lord would not execute him for delivering ill news.

“Rise. Go and rouse the knights of my rorn. Bring me my armor. I shall go out and crush these rebels personally.” The King replied.

Umbadar himself was a tall man, so tall indeed that his men had to strain their necks upward to gaze upon the face of their king. But while his mighty stature may have awed his followers, it caused his personal| armorer no end of grief. But the results, Umbadar’s personal suit of plate-mail, however, was well worth the irritation and exacting measurements required.

It shimmered as though of silver in the pale morning sun. Only the barest hints of color peeked out from beneath the armor, dots of gold and a swatches of red. Red and gold, the livery of Umbadar’s kingdom. The same colors that adorned the knights of his rorn, the elite guardsmen of his house.

They stood at eager attention, with the hundred or so armored knights at the fore. Meanwhile, the rest of Umbadar’s troops, the men-at-arms and mercenaries, stood in great columns of hundreds of men apiece. Compared to his guard, the baser troops were untrained rabble. But even they remained still and silent as statues when Umbadar began speaking.

“These rebels have swept over our lands like a evil flood of death and destruction, subsuming all who faced them. And now, now they come to destroy us, to salt our fields and take our people as slaves! I say to thee, we shall not let this come to pass! Today, we ride out to meet them in the glory of battle and vanquish them like the foul animals they are! Onward! For hearth and kin!”

Their confidence thus raised, the army marched onward, great columns of brightly-armored men moving instep. Each and every man had something he was fighting for, be it the King’s gold, his home, family, or personal honor. Each of them would fight well. None of them had any idea of what they were marching into.


__________________________________



The eve of battle;

“My King… I am concerned by these barbarians. They have a third our number, yet they advance heedless of the danger. It worries me. And some of the men tell me that for a moment, they see earthen-clad giants amongst the enemy army, but when they look again, the figures are gone. What foul sorcery is at work here?” Umbadar’s most trusted general, Ailled said as he looked upon the enemy with a spy-glass. He was a naturally superstitious man, and the tales his soldiers told him were something out of a legend or myth. Disappearing giants? A realist would have dismissed such stories out of hand, but Ailled believed…

“Do not worry, my friend. There are no giants. If there were, how could we not see them? And looking at their army, they have no cavalry. They put too much faith in their firesticks. It will be their downfall.” The King replied with a smile. Practically no weapons had survived the war, so the Vayarians were forced to create their own from scratch. Consequently, the most advanced firearm that Umbadar had ever seen was a weak and inaccurate musket. From the distance, the Veygere’s troops looked like they carried those familiar weapons. But looks can often be deceiving. Especially when that deception is helped along by a heady overconfidence…


__________________________________



“This is Zeta squad, assault guns are ready and holoshrouds are fully functional. We are ready to open fire at your command, Veygere.”

“Delta squad reporting in. Anti-Personnel launchers are deployed and ready.”

“Alpha squad. We’ve deployed behind the enemy. Ready to rock and roll!”


__________________________________



Umbadar looked on the enemy army with a barely concealed disdain. They were fools, fools with too much faith in their own abilities. They would pay for their blindness.

General Ailled was less confident. He could notice the subtle differences in the Veygere’s weaponry. Instead of the long, dull-iron shafts and wooden stocks, they carried matte-black weapons with short, stocky barrels. He had never seen anything like them, but he could tell that it was a bad sign.

Another bad sign was the strange standards they hoisted over their army. There was the Veygere’s standard of course, the hideous death’s head skull, starkly colored in deep enveloping black and harsh white. But there was another banner present as well, a great field of black with pinpricks of prismatic light. In the center, a great blood-red and goldenrod-yellow orb hung, impaled by a blindingly silver sword. The globe was flanked by a pair of overpowering Azure eagle wings that thrusted upwards proudly as if to challenge all who looked upon them. And burnt into the orb was a single blackened symbol, sharp and jagged like some burnt offering. This new banner hung next to the Veygere’s as an equal, not a lesser vassal’s or regiment’s badge. Who were they?

It was a question to which Ailled would never receive an answer.

“Charge!” Umbadar cried as he reared his horse up and waved his sword menacingly, pointing it towards the weakest point in the Veygere’s lines. Or at least, they appeared the weakest.

As one, Umbadar’s army rushed forward like an unstoppable flood. As one they stopped in shock as dozens armored giants simply appeared out of thin air. As one, they recoiled in horror as those giants spit out fire and death. As one, they turned to flee, only to find another set of those armored giants behind them, scraping their backs with great weapons, tearing through rows of men with their fifty millimeter auto cannons. As many, the army died down to a man as the Veygere’s conventional army added their own assault rifles to the great wall of bullets now raking over Umbadar’s army.

To their credit, Umbadar’s knights held file, trying desperately to shield their horses with their thick shields. Occasionally the smaller bullets pinged off the steel faces of the shields, but the larger ones, the fifty millimeter shells tore through them like wet paper, blasting great sickly holes through the knights’ bodies. Sometimes the shells tore off a limb or pulverized a head or tore a knight’s body in two, such was their power.

The ease of such a slaughter was absolutely disgusting.

“Fall back! Retreat! Flee to the keep!’ Umbadar cried as he saw the full depth of his failure. All around him, his army lay shattered at his feet. Thousands of his men lay dead, many riddled with so many holes that they did not resemble men so much as great hunks of leaky meat.

His army, or rather the pathetic scraps that remained, ran as fast as their legs would carry them in every direction. For his part he ran too, back to his keep in craven fear like some child who had bitten off far more than he could chew.


__________________________________



”Veygere, we’ve got a good bead on the King. Should we take him out?” One of the armored giants said as its monstrous multi-barreled weapon tracked the fleeing King like a hunter leading a fleeing doe.

”No. I want him to see what this defiance will earn him. We shall reach him soon enough. But I would like you to relay my thanks to our… benefactors. Without your services, none of this would have been possible.”

“Just remember the bargain. You wanted the people who destroyed your homeland. The Consortium has provided you with the information and the means. All that we ask in return is that you crush them utterly.” The armored giant replied with a quiet, venom-laced voice.


__________________________________



“Bar the gates!” Umbadar yelled as he passed through the thick oaken doors into his fortress. He was shaking, but from fear or exhaustion, none in the keep could tell.

”But… My lord! We may still have people out there!” One of the household servants, a man who’s name Umbadar had never deigned to learn replied.

“No! Anyone out there is already dead! Bar the damned gates!” The King replied.

“Y…Yes My lord!”


__________________________________



”My lord, of the thirty thousand men you marched out with, approximately sixty remain. Out of those, only seven are your knights. And frankly, I don’t think any of them are willing to fight again.”

“Ailled?” The King whispered, his lips twitching from the stress he was desperately trying to cope with.

“Most likely dead, My Lord…”

Suddenly, another man-servant ran into the room. “My Lord! The Veygere’s forces are here and are demanding your surrender. They say that if we surrender, they will spare every tenth man and woman…”

“T-Tell them that I will surrender if they spare my people...”


__________________________________



The Keep’s main hall was a great and wide-open room with more lavish decorations than a Sultan’s harem. Great white and silver tapestries glowed in the dull light of the dying afternoon sun. Polished mahogany tables shined proudly, blinding all who looked upon them. Rich velvety carpets from distant lands rested on the clean marble and stone of the hall, each carpet colored in royal reds and blues and trimmed with golden threads. The colors belied a happier time.

None of the people in the hall were as bright and cheerful as the decorations however. All were dressed in black, and all were grim-faced, with deep and saddened eyes. The King and his family were saddest of all. They knew they would be killed.

Oh, they had attempted escape of course. But the very security of the fortress was its own undoing. It had but one entrance, an entrance that the enemy had besieged. Everyone within the city-keep were trapped like rats aboard a sinking ship, unable to flee. To do so would be to invite torture and death at the hands of the barbarians at the gates.

Barbarians who just burst through the door, stalking, slithering, and slinking their way into the hall. The Veygere’s own personal guard entered first, personal rail guns held at the ready. After them, four of the great giants that had slaughtered Umbadar’s army with ease marched into the hall, scraping their heads on the hallway’s ceiling. Then, finally, once they had cleared the way with a rifle butt or metallic fist, another figure. The Veygere himself.

His was a tall and imposing form, although not as bulky as the four armored giants who stood motionless like great empty suits of plate. His hawk-like and bloodthirsty features were as heralds to the malevolent will he bore in his heart. His eyes shone like dull steel as they swept over Umbadar and his family, a great and shark like grin stretching across his face, revealing a great set of yellow-white teeth. His voice was harsh yet vigorous. It had the tone of a man who had just breached a lesser goal on the road to something greater.

“Ahh, King Umbadar. Last King of Vayaria. So good it is to see you alive and well. I trust that my men did not hurt you too badly when we gutted your army? I wouldn’t want you to miss the next act in our little drama…”

“You bastard!’

“What a feisty little boy. You’re Umbadar’s son, aren’t you? Heh. Would you like to kill me? I think you would. Go on then. If you think you can, have at me. No one will interfere.”

“Don’t do it!” The King cried, his mouth wide open, aghast.

But the battle had already started. His son had leapt forward, roaring out a mighty rage-filled war cry as he brought his weapon, a small dagger he produced from somewhere forward, apparently intending to end the fight as quickly as possible. But the Veygere was not so easily defeated.

He seized the boy’s arm mid leap and snapped it back against itself with a sickening crunch. The dagger clanged to the floor as the young boy clutched his arm in pain and disbelief. He was mighty and strong! How had he been bested so easily?

“Pathetic” The Veygere said contemptuously as he picked the child up in one of his large ham-fisted hands. A quick flick of the wrist later, and the poor lad’s neck snapped like a twig crushed by a tank.

“I guess he wasn’t strong enough. Now, the question is ‘what to do…’ Hmm. I’ve already taken your son and your kingdom, Umbadar, but somehow that doesn’t feel adequate retribution for the trouble you’ve caused me. Ah-ha! I know! Your wife and daughter!”

“Don’t you touch them!”

“I think I will. Or at least, one of them. But which one… hmm… Guards! Seize the Queen and take her back to your barracks. Consider her my gift to you!”

“No!” The Queen screamed as she kicked at her attackers, trying desperately to keep their dirty, greasy and sweaty hands off of her. But despite her fear-fueled efforts, the guards’ strength was overpowering. In the end, she was dragged off, kicking and screaming to whatever grisly and perverse fate that awaited her at the hands of the Veygere’s elite guards.

“And now for your daughter…”

“No! Please, I’ll do whatever you want. But don’t hurt her too!”

“Such a heartfelt plea! It almost makes me reconsider taking her for my own. Almost.” The Veygere replied with a malicious grin as he advanced upon the poor, terrified girl.

Terrified she may have been, but she was as fiery as her mother. First a knee to the man’s plate-armored crotch, then a barrage of fists and kicks to his chest. Alas, the Veygere was protected, covered neck to toe in thick steel plate. To him, her blows felt as though struck with pillows.

“Mmm. A feisty one. I always enjoy breaking your type!” He said in glee as she struggled against him. Unfortunately, he was too strong. Once he pinned her arms with a hand (and later, a long strip of leather,) it was all over.

She knew she had lost as she felt her dress torn from her like so much paper, revealing her for all the world to see. She felt so vulnerable, seeing the Veygere leering at her like a predator of some sort, playing with its prey before delivering the lethal blow. She knew that he had won, and that only pain and darkness would remain for her.

“God no! Don’t do this! Please! You have to help me!” She sobbed, looking towards the armored giants with tear leaden eyes. She knew that the bodyguards who remained would be totally loyal to their leader, but she knew nothing of those others. Perhaps they would help her?


__________________________________



“You invoke the Lord’s name in this?” The voice was not the harsh malice of the Veygere. Instead, it sounded cold and muffled, almost buzzing in a way. But its source was obvious. It came from one of the four giants.

“If you fall to your knees and beg The Reborn Lord Christ for your salvation. Show the proper deference to our lord, I will save you from this fate.” The voice continued.

She fell to her knees as though the weight of a world was upon her shoulders. Then, she began praying. Begging between sobs for God to save her, to deliver her from the evil heathen’s foul touch.

“What? No! She is my prize! You cannot take her away from me!”

“Silence! I have tolerated your perversions long enough! You are a barbarian, a hireling given the tools to do the Consortium’s bidding, to crush our mutual enemies. Nothing more. I will not stand for you to defile a young girl with your foul touch for no reason greater than your own perverse sadism!” The armored giant replied, anger diluted through its electronically reproduced voice.

“No. She shall come with us. If you say otherwise, the Consortium shall merely take our wares elsewhere and find another primitive country to destroy the ESUS.” It continued after a moment’s pause.

“Oh! Thank you! Thank you!” Umbadar cried, falling to his knees.

“Guards! Take the former king to his dungeons. Throw him to the prisoners! I expect that a great many of them are quite… desperate for some companionship. As for you, my armored friends, you’ve made a big mistake here! My benefactors will hear of this.” The Veygere said, trying to salvage some of the satisfaction denied him.

“How?” Another of the armored giants asked, “To communicate with the Consortium, you have to go through us. Think for a moment and ask yourself whether one girl is worth your only chance at revenge against the ESUS who turned your land into the radioactive hell-hole it is today…”


__________________________________



“Thanks for pulling my butt out of the fire there, Colonel Sanders.

”Lieutenant Locklear! What the fuck were you doing?”

“Come on Colonel! You expected me to stand by while that bastard raped a teenage girl?”

“Yes, damn it! I expect to do your duty instead of jeopardizing our entire operation here! You do realize that the consortium is not able to attack the ESUS directly, and that we must hence use proxies and client-states to do so for us?”

”I know, sir. It’s just that I couldn’t stand there and watch that happen again.”

“Corporal, you’re letting your feelings get in the way of your duty. You’ve just risked everything we’ve been working towards… But, what’s done is done. You’re docked six months pay and we’ll be speaking about this when we get back home. Now get the hell out of my sight.”

“Affirmative, sir!” Locklear replied, clicking his armored heels together as he walked back to the dropship.


__________________________________



In the years that followed, the Veygere solidified his rule, suppressing dissidents and using Consortium technology to improve his empire. Within a decade, he was ready for his revenge. Great warships had been prepared, ready to carry his troops to victory against the ESUS…

He would have his revenge, or die trying.

Cruithne; Consortium military headquarters; Sol

The Veygere smiled coldly as he regarded his task. His regal voice would soon flood the ESUS communications links as ‘the Voice of the Universe,’ demanding that they meet with him and the rest of the Consortium leaders at a small and deserted asteroid outside of Sol. Then, while they were occupied, the Consortium’s fleet would strike like a coiled cobra, aiming for the jugular of the ESUS. It was a plan that he found much satisfaction in, even though he did not think of it himself.

“Veygere, we’re ready to transmit.”

”Excellent.”

”Three… Two… One… You’re on!”

“For too long have we watched the ESUS and its members grow fat off of the misfortune of others! Their ships ply the space ways trading, in reality robbing sovereign nations of their resources! Their members rape entire worlds, killing any sentient beings found in their quest for more filthy lucre. They claim entire solar systems without heed for life that was there first. I say to the universe that this must stop!”

He paused for a moment, his eyes seeming to focus inwards towards the camera, and thus, the viewers. “To that end, we demand free and exclusive access to the ESUS trade-routes for our investigators, so we might see for ourselves how much their gluttonous practices earn them. Then, once we have seen first hand the corruption of the ESUS mercantile practices, we shall call a council of the free peoples of the universe to discuss what can be done to curb the ESUS’ destructive and imperialist military-industrial complex so that more peoples are not left in dearth by the ESUS economy, and ground to dust under ESUS jackboots.”

Another pause. Sweat beaded down his forehead from the harsh white light of the studio as he began speaking again. “If the ESUS members would like to discuss our terms like the civilized men they aren’t, we can be found at a small asteroid base in the Sol system.” <Coordinates followed. They did not lead to Cruithne.>

“I’m not expecting the imperialists to attend, of course. I fully expect them to show their true colors and attempt to invade us. That’s why this transmission has been bounced between dozens of different sources. As I said before, if they wish to discuss our demands like civilized beings, they will meet with me and other Consortium leaders at the aforementioned place. This is the Voice of the Universe, signing off…”

OOC: Now, a few things.

Yes, the Consortium is a real group of FT nations.

No, I'm not pulling it from my ass simply to make myself more powerful. Think of this nation as a front for them.

Yes, it may be revealed who the consortium consists of ICly, or it might not. I don't know yet.

Suffice it to say that the Consortium has the material might to provide me and the other Cruithne participants with enough to challenge, although probably not defeat the ESUS in a straight-up fight.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let the games begin!

No, I'm not pulling it from my ass simply to make myself more powerful. Think of this nation as a front for them.

It looks like it though. But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. So, #Tag# For later post.

OOC: Oh, fun, unidentified evil agencies out to kill us all. Just like a bad Star Wars novel... ;)

*TAG*

OOC:
I would apreciate an OOC list of those nations supporting you; no offence, but I've had experiance with fakers befor.

I'm also assuming that this group is feeding it's client states some rather blaintent propiganda? Or've you confered with some ESUS members to confirm your facts?

The whole "aiming for the jugular of the ESUS" bit also arose my curiousity; the alliance not exactly having much joint infastructure.

But, otherwise, *TAG*. This ought to be fun.

OOC:
I would apreciate an OOC list of those nations supporting you; no offence, but I've had experiance with fakers before.

I'm also assuming that this group is feeding it's client states some rather blaintent propiganda? Or've you confered with some ESUS members to confirm your facts?

The whole "aiming for the jugular of the ESUS" bit also arose my curiousity; the alliance not exactly having much joint infastructure.

But, otherwise, *TAG*. This ought to be fun.
OOC: We'd appreciate it if we could keep OOC babble in this thread to a minimum. Perhaps we can create a seperate OOC thread to accomodate this.

Ragelos is also part of the Consortium. I will be posting my first contribution and the history of this facet later this evening, most likely.

Our benefactors have decided that they will not be revealing themselves, ICly or OOCly, until such a time as the roleplay becomes more developed. As such, we will not be providing an OOC list of nations participating. You will simply have to trust us. Or, perhaps, gauge us upon roleplay quality alone.

OOC:
Well, without having some idea as to your support base it's rather difficult to gauge the overall quality of what you'll be fielding.

Your 'benifactors' remaining OOCly unknown also creates general uncertainty; for all we know, you're being supported by, say, Unified Sith, or someone who's under Ignore by certain members.

I'm willing to give you the benifit of the doubt, for now, but having your sponsors out in the open, OOCly, would allow us to proceed much more readily.


Also, redaurding the OP's request for no IC posts from this side, are we to assume the whole "Voice of the Universe" bit opens the door for response, or've you folks got more planned that you want to lay down first?

OOC: There is more planned. If you wish to continue this discussion, form an OOC thread please.

He awoke and wanted death. But not the death of his enemies, he thought. What would happen if he smashed his mirror and slit his wrists? Would he be relieved of this bastard of a command? No, he thought. I am stuck here.

Commander Kraig is a man with no history. His life, or what little his official files relate of it, was supposed to be seventy-five glorious years long. Sadly, of that huge lump of existence, he could remember nought but the last five years of misery. He remembered the cruel training routine. The days spent in zero-gee with his joints aching for want of rest, the raw fury of his superiors as the piercing pain of tasers caused his mind to split open and gush into the gritty ground every time he screwed up, and the drugged stupor he found himself in on the first day of this godforsaken job. He knew he had a family, somewhere, but it ached him when he tried to recall their features. He was faintly aware of having several beautiful daughters, but their names escaped him. He knew he was supposed to know so much – but inside he felt dead, empty and void. He wasn’t even sure if he was human anymore. He had even begun doubting his own name. Perhaps I’m dead, he thought. Perhaps I’ve died and this is my punishment.

The Ragelos facility buried deep below the fragile crust of Cruithne is not a pleasant place to live. From every soul there bellows forth a black fog of despair – history does not have a place here. All are without pasts. The fifty thousand strong population of the main chamber enjoyed few recreational facilities. The suicide rate was astronomically high, but that mattered not to the benefactors. Every few months, another shipment of eager young workers would arrive, looking fresh and bright-eyed in their clean, new uniforms. Their optimism was swiftly crushed as they realised this was little more than a prison. Soon, even their uniforms would begin to look shabby, mirroring the depression slowly encroaching into their minds.

There were other colonies on the asteroid. Kraig knew this. They had little in common, and very little contact. The only thing that bound them was the benefactors. Kraig didn’t know who, or even what, they were. All he understood was that they were his bosses, and if he screwed up, he would get worse than a split mind. There were fates worse than death. Kraig knew, he regularly dealt in them.

* * *

“What are you sniggering at?” his brother, Orgon, asked as he swept through the kitchen, his PR-49 pulse weapon tracing every surface. “Now is not the fucking time.”

“Yes,” he said, and gazed out the kitchen window at the decaying street with all the little future muggers and murderers playing some incomprehensible game with a ball. He fondly recalled similar times. They seemed so distant now. “Yes, yes it is. A smile can solve a million problems, brother. You should heed my words, for they are wise.”

“I’ll bet -” he replied witheringly.

“No, don’t,” he interjected. ”Chance is hardly going to help us now. We’ve got to take this by the balls.”

“Should we pray?” he asked. He looked at Orgon, and they shared a silent moment of regret.

“To who?” he asked, tiredly. “A god? The god of war? Mars?”

He laughed, hard. It ached him so, and he spluttered more blood into the handkerchief his brother had given him.

“I’m dying, Orgon.”

Orgon looked distraught. “Look,” he said, trying to avoid his brother’s eyes. “We’re going to get out of this. We’ve been in worse situations before. Your wounds are not fatal, not if we get you to a hospital quickly.”

As he said it, he realised his words were hollow. Orgon knew his brother was going to die. The specialist forces would soon surround the building, and would move in with ruthless efficiency. Orgon, with his single weapon, would not be able to hold off a prolonged attack. They’d both be shot for treason. Or worse, he thought.

“Orgon, get the fuck out of here. Leave me, you might be able to run.”

The artificial light cast a sickly yellow glow upon Orgon’s skin. Or, perhaps, his face was betraying his fear. He gripped his brother’s arm tightly, and pulled him close.

“No.”

* * *

Taking a deep breath of the smoggy air, Commander Yalt stepped out from the chromatic brilliance of his police car into the musty grey streets of the scene. The tidy hair upon his head did little to hide his true age. Time had been unkind to him, and his face wrinkled in odd fractal ways when he spoke. His chest had been augmented with standard issue pulse-armour, which offered a little protection from the searing energy of such a weapon. His own handheld maser was tucked neatly in his holster.

“Good morning, Commander Yalt.”

Yalt, with practised authority, simply said: “do it.”

* * *

“We have a go!”

“Go, go, go, go, go!”

“Affirmative!”

Echos of glee poured through the high-bandwidth radio link. Yalt remained stony-faced, his teeth grinding uncomfortably. The specialists had stormed the building. They were beginning to sweep the run down apartments. Soon, their job would be over, and two more people would be in jail.

There was a crack has the door gave way to the boot of a heavy grunt, dressed in black and wearing a sophisticated gasmask. The room began to fill with a thick, red smoke, which stung Orgon and his brother’s eyes, and made their skin burn.

“Get down, get down!” screamed the grunt. He was practically foaming at the mouth with hysterical rage.

“Orgon Firth, you have been found guilty religious preaching. You will be executed for your crimes against the state. Kraig Firth, you have been found guilty of aiding in religious preaching. You will be recycled.”

And with that, Kraig’s first body stopped working, as his chest exploded with the force of a kinetic assault round. He was barely able to squeak, let alone mourn his brother’s similar fate.

He did not remember having a brother the next time he awoke.

In Our Empire, We Discuse Less And Analyze With Logic About A Desition.

The Wisdom Is That Benefit The Majority


King Huarra

In Our Empire, We Discuse Less And Analyze With Logic About A Desition.

The Wisdom Is That Benefit The Majority


King Huarra
Uhm. Don't post here again, please. This thread is closed.

OOC:
Well, without having some idea as to your support base it's rather difficult to gauge the overall quality of what you'll be fielding.

OOC: A valid point. Quality wise, the consortium is like a well-equipped resistance movement. Mainly privateers and similar with a small core of military quality units. In any straight up fight against an ESUS fleet and a Consortium one (assuming crew competence and number parity) will usually result in the Consortium one being destroyed. Thing being that the Consortium isn't really too big on actually fighting on other peoples' terms. :p

Your 'benifactors' remaining OOCly unknown also creates general uncertainty; for all we know, you're being supported by, say, Unified Sith, or someone who's under Ignore by certain members.

...I can personally assure you that none of the consortium members' players are under ignore by the ESUS.

I'm willing to give you the benifit of the doubt, for now, but having your sponsors out in the open, OOCly, would allow us to proceed much more readily.

Don't worry, we aren't godmoders and we're not out for OOC victory. Rather, we're here to tell a neat story, and perhaps get the extra solar FT scene going again.

Unfortunately, in the interests of the plot, we'd rather not reveal our host nations OOCly at this time. Rather, we would prefer it to be the climax where the ESUS has to find some shred of evidence that would, with some lateral thinking, lead them to the true culprits. Like a good villian, we don't want to reveal ourselves too early, instead leaving that particular plot twist for the right time.

Naturally, we'll be dropping clues beforehand that the astute observer can pick up.

Also, redaurding the OP's request for no IC posts from this side, are we to assume the whole "Voice of the Universe" bit opens the door for response, or've you folks got more planned that you want to lay down first?

Well, I thought that once I sent the message, it would be open to IC comments from the ESUS. I mean, before it, I couldn't really justify the ESUS having any information of what was going on. But now that Ragalos has posted, you can start RPing in earnest. :p

I'm also assuming that this group is feeding it's client states some rather blaintent propiganda? Or've you confered with some ESUS members to confirm your facts?

The former. :D

Kanuckistani Home Cluster, 5000 Lightyears Beyond the Rim, Far Side of the Milky Way:

It was a pleasant afternoon in Halifax province, on the Capital World of Kanata where two old friends met; one of several park benchs, adorning the mountain-top overlook, shaded by a stand of evergreens.

"Afternoon."

With a start, the hunam looked up at the newly arrived lupine, a smile edged with.. something else greeting the other as recognition dawned.

"Ah; 'ey, Dee. Afternoon," the hunam responded, watching as his friend seated himself.

The wolven biped chuckled, a wry grin of his own gracing his muzzel, "I thought you agreed to leave work at the office?"

With a small laugh and a sigh, the first shook his head, "Sorry; just got a weird one today... That obvious?"

"After five centuries? Like a book, Bob," D'avo laughed, "And I presume that you're talking about that 'Voice of the Universe' Bee-Ess?"

"Yeah, that's the one; almost sounds like they confused for the Galactic Empire or something."

"Now, now," the wolf cautioned, "I've seen that broadcast too, and it's not totally in error," - holding up one hand to forstall his friend's reaction, he continued, "Of course neighter we, nor the Ee-Ess-You-Ess, have done anything that accuse us of, but think about it; how many member states are less innocent?"

Bob held his tongue, pondering his friend's council; the points raised therein ones few Kanuckistani liked to contemplate - in not infringing on member nations' sovereignty, including forgine policy, the ESUS was, for better and for worse, morally neutral; a necessary evil, but an evil none the less.

"I supose you're right," Bob finally concluded, "But enough shop talk. So, how're the wife and kids?"


-----------------------------

Sol System, 5 Million Kilometers 'Above' the Provided Asteroid Coordinates:

Jennifer Locklear looked up from her magizine, across the small diplomatic cutter's cabin to the 'cockpit' alcove as a soft tone sounded, signling the SLSD drive's throttling down to sublight cruise - reaching out to the ship's nav system via her neural lace confirmed her destination to be a mere five MSK away now; just over four minutes away at their present velocity of twenty thousand KPS.

With a resigned sigh, the vixen marked her place and set the periodical down and moved to eyeball things from the cockpit; hopefully, who ever these rather poorly informed solies were, they weren't about to blow a diplomatic cutter out of the sky - she was rather fond of this Avatar.

Your 'benifactors' remaining OOCly unknown also creates general uncertainty; for all we know, you're being supported by, say, Unified Sith, or someone who's under Ignore by certain members.

...I can personally assure you that none of the consortium members' players are under ignore by the ESUS.



OOC: That doesn't answer the question. US or TFU doesnt have to be a member to be supporting you.

IC Responce in the works - Do we have any other threads related to this? Could they be posted here if there are?

OOC: That doesn't answer the question. US or TFU doesnt have to be a member to be supporting you.

US, TFU, or their associates have nothing to do with the Consortium.

IC Responce in the works - Do we have any other threads related to this? Could they be posted here if there are?

No, there are presently no other threads in the works, except maybe an OOC thread. :p

Edit: Before ICly responding, I'd like to get a few more ESUS members besides Kanuckistan, and a few more Consortium members besides Ragalos and myself. *Prods Consortium.*

OOC: this is only the first part, i will finish it later...

It was the time of year when even a slight breeze could chill to the bone; Gevin LaVitz made a mental note to wear a heavier jacket. He was alien to the planet Tirol, having been transferred from his diplomatic duties on the much warmer, more tropical environment of Karbarra; now appointed as ambassador to the ESUS. The autumnal man was tall and slendor, and his facial features were sharp as his eyes, which seemed to burn right through anything they were set upon. His was the task to spearhead the Megan Empire into the ESUS fold, an objective in which his predecessor had failed utterly.

Now, as LaVitz entered the servo-lift to his office, his thoughts pondered the broadcast that had spurred his weekend trip to the majestic building. This, Consortuim, as they call themselves, were a strange lot, to say the least. Who could possibly have a reason to war with the ESUS? After all, without the ESUS, his Empire would never have rebuilt so soon after the Hobbeebian War. ((Thread(s) still in progress, but is/are the past.)) ESUS trade and commerce had literally pushed recovery efforts forward at lightspeed. He had to admit one thing, though, whoever was behind these threats, this self-proclaimed "Voice of the Universe", had guts.

"Gevin! I knew you'd come here." A man much younger and shorter than LaVitz, though much broader around the waist called out to him before LaVitz had even stepped off the elevator. "This whole 'Voice of the Universe' thing has got everybody up in arms here at the capitol!"

"I'm sure it's nothing Corek, it'll probably blow over in a couple of days."

"You may think that, but the rest of us...we're not so sure. We can't afford to go to war right now, Gevin, not when things are just beginning to return to normal."

"War? Who said anything about war? The 'Consortuim' has only demanded that we allow them to inspect ESUS trade routes. I see nothing wrong with that. I don't believe we've anything to hide."

"But what if this is just the beginning? What if they do decide to attack the ESUS? What are we to do then?"

"If such a time comes, we shall address that decision. Until then, we must be diligently careful not to trigger this war you speak of."

"And how will we do that?"

"By simply doing nothing, nothing at all. We shall wait. We shall observe what other ESUS nations do. We shall discover the intentions of this 'Consortium', and then we shall act."

LaVitz made his way to the enormous windows overlooking Monument City. To him, it was a maze of grey and white buildings overly filled with a bustling population of lab rats; a city both beautiful and hideous at the same moment.

"TASC will never agree with such a course of action. They will demand that we respond at once with a counter-threat."

"Which is why we went to war with Hobbeebia in the first place, and why TASC no longer has totalitarian control of the Empire." LaVitz paused to allow his comment to sink in. My briefing with the Supreme Chancellor is scheduled later this afternoon. The SC is an honorable man. He will side with me."

"I only hope that you know what you're doing, Gevin."

LaVitz sighed at this comment. Surely his people had more faith in him than did his colleague. "As do, Corek."

The Alphini of the Socialist Republic of Xanthal have released the following public statement in response to the accusatory message of unknown origin condemning the Extra Solar Union of Systems:

"The charges levelled against the ESUS by these unknown parties are grave and serious. As a nation and people of justice, we will not defend the unjust. We have long been aware of the practices of genocide maintained by certain national aquaintences within the alliance, and have not acted to condone or protect such crimes against sentient beings. The Socialist Republic acknowledges that the ESUS is made up of nations with widely differing economic, political, and social domestic and international policies, and has shown tolerance for that diversity even when it is contrary to our own beliefs. Realizing that a very real threat may be posed to the entire alliance if there are substantial forces that will stand against it, we wish to affirm that the Xanthalian nation will not tolerate unfounded generalization of malevolence across the alliance. We know the majority of our allies to be fair and peaceful in their governance, and believe ourselves to be the same. If sufficient evidence is given to prove in our minds charges that warrant military action against one or more members of the Extra Solar Union of Systems, the Socialist Republic will not join any alliance movement or heed any alliance order to defend those guilty of such charges.

"Though we must stand firm on such issues of morality, we wish also to affirm that the Republic stands firmly alongside the ESUS at large. The Union of Systems was formed to promote peace and provide defense among members, and it is for that reason that our nation joined its ranks. We will not forget our commitment to defend our allies from unprovoked attack, nor will we accept association or proxy arguments to justify war on ESUS members not directly in violation of international rules acknowledged by the Socialist Republic. We will without hesitation mobilize our forces in defense of Xanthal and any allied nation that we believe has not acted in a manner such as to justify aggression against them. This government will not break its conditional commitment to the members of the ESUS unless by absolute necessity in that our affiliations present a clear and present danger to the security of Xanthalian society. In this and all instances, our commitment to the Xanthalian people will always come first: to defend the universal rights of equality, liberty, and representation under the Constitution of the Socialist Republic. In our duty to preserve ourselves and our friends in the face of blind hatred; we will not tire, we will not falter, and we will not fail."

OOC: I am looking forward to participating in all this provided, of course, that it doesn't degrade into a bog of wank and godmod as so many such things seem to do. Nova Vayaria, you've done an impressive job so far. I applaud you, and hope that we can work together to make this an interesting and fun game. If you are willing and able, please feel free to contact me via IM on any of the following mediums:
AIM: zorak950
ICQ: 124467168
MSNIM: zeke_zabertini@hotmail.com
YIM: zorak950

OOC: Well, this is a sort of a tag. Ven Ker'seahn will likely do little to help. Behind the scenes, a small care package, or something like that, will be provided. But, Otagia is working on a thread to find Taren, who will work as a sort of mercenary. And yes, I know it's something like bringing in another nation, but the fact of the matter is the JJR is an old ESUS nation, and only so because it was almost entirely destroyed by Ven Ker'seahn, who I also RP through using this nation.

It's all rather confusing, really...

JJR: Acceptable on this end.

Xantal: We will be working hard to prevent wank and godmoding.

All: I will try to have another post done by tommorow, but it would be really nice if we actually got some more people heading for the diplomatic meeting. Xanthal and Megas' posts were good, but it'd be nice to have progress rather than IC statements/detailed tags.

OOC: Xanthal isn't in the business of inserting itself into international disputes. If they become militarily involved in any of this, it will be because they've been dragged into it. Keep in mind, the Socialist Republic doesn't have much of an offensive military force either. If you want progress on my end, you're going to have to have either a representative or an invasion force come to Xanthal. I can pretty much guarantee that it won't work the other way around unless circumstances call for it further down the road.

Also OOC: Hasn't anyone made an OOC topic for this yet?

OOC: Xanthal isn't in the business of inserting itself into international disputes. If they become militarily involved in any of this, it will be because they've been dragged into it. Keep in mind, the Socialist Republic doesn't have much of an offensive military force either. If you want progress on my end, you're going to have to have either a representative or an invasion force come to Xanthal. I can pretty much guarantee that it won't work the other way around unless circumstances call for it further down the road.

This goes for Megas as well. Having just barely emerged victorious from a war with Hobbeebia, the Empire's military forces are in shambles. I believe I alluded to this in my post. Unless the sovereignty of Megas in incurred upon, it will seek some sort of alternative to war. For now, that is sitting back and waiting.

Has this died?

750 Lightyears from Sol
A miserable planet, lonely in it's own right, for unlike other planetary systems, it was an only child. It's celstial mother only bore one child to orbit it in such a lonely part of the grand vaccum of space.

The planet itself was fairly decent in size and climate wise. It was a lush green world, with one exception, the Freie Jagerians inhabited this world. Yes they were a new species on the celestial block, but an underestimation of them is a fatal mistake for even the largest of nations. They are a vicious race of religious zealots. They are guided by a council, who in turn is lead by "The One", for no soul in all the universe knows his name. The One's will is unbending, and all consuming. Once he has told the council his will, and the council tells his will to the populace, it is done at all costs. Failure may only come in the form of utter extinction in the process of doing The One's will. For failure of doing listening to his beautiful words of salvation, leads to lamentations in deep recess of hell; a olace you you are simultaneously frozen to death and burned to death, only to be brought back and face the punishment again, and again, and again, so that your torturous screams might echo in the halls of infinite time.

The people themselves are all enlisted, but not active in the army. Every man woman and child remains ready to serve the Crusade of The One. The One is an active representation of all the gods in all the universe. His job is to unite all faith bearng people under the banner of Freie Jager, and drive out and slaughter every last unbeliever.

The Composition of the Armed forces of Freie Jager are a small and dynamic group of ships and soldiers, with all the non-"chosen" warriors serving as reserve. The military service is compulsory, where as deciding to be active (unless called upon by the one) is entirely voluntary. It is a commitment that only death itself can free you from.

To be a crusader you must under go a year of genetic and physical modifications. Crusaders are genetically superior to almost every race in every corner of the universe thanks to the benefactor's donations. They are immune to nearly every known disease, and are cpable of adapting to plaugues, infections and the like on the fly. Their body structure is also superior in nearly everyway. The brain has had cybernetic and organic implants put into it so they may learn faster, and apply quick thinking with higher accuracy. They are also able to information downloaded to them while on the field of battle. On top of a brain enhancement, their muscle and bone structure has been heavily modified. They are roughly 10 to 15 times stronger than terran human beings. To help with this new and improved brain and muscular structure, their nervous and cardiovascular systems have been redone, it is not unusual to see a crusader dodge enemy gun fire.

The fleet is composed of three crusade vessels. Don't underestimate that because they are only three in number that they are easy to crush. Thanks to the benefactors their technolgy is comparable to the dreadnaughts of much more advanced races. One would have to easily delegate a whole taskforce to put down the vessel.

ooc: I as well am a member of the consortium, feel free to include me in any diplomatic what nots.

OOC: I don't have the time to dust off the guns or poke my sleeping war machine with a stick. Thusly I'll ~TAG~ now and post later. =)

Kudos to seeing some action amongst us ESUSians again.

For centuries, the Trailarii lay dormant in the handful of systems they had deposited themselves among shortly after their inexplicable departure from Sol. Their only communication had been with their remaining contacts among their old region, and the ESUS. The exact location of their home system, and capital planet (Trailaria Prime) for that matter, remained somewhat shrouded in doubt. They were a people who enjoyed simple solitude as their once-human bodies began to adapt and evolve into something more suitible for the alien climates and gravitational variations of their new home. It had been a long time since the Trailarii had been called from their shell, trading only with the ESUS and importing precious little other than raw ore not found on any of their planets, asteroid cities or the Salvador molecular cloud which they inhabited. These people were quite typical of a dominent race, smugly assured that they were evolutionarily supreme, vastly more advanced in technology and as a civilization as a whole, and just overall better than the average humanoid. Such a blatent challenge to the ESUS by Nova Vayaria was enough to cause the sleeping giant to stir, joints squeaking and moorings rattling. The Machine was going to make a comeback.
The Trailarii had always harbored a disturbing form 'hive mentality' since their original emergance as a civilization millenia before, acting as one without question, each individual speaking for the entire race despite their social caste or position in the ruling body. For this reason, when making contact with a challenger the message was always formed in such a way that it seemed as if the entire race was speaking with one voice. This quality was manifest once more as a mysterious message pinged through random communication stations within the nation of Nova Vayaria..

We are the Immortal Empire of the Trailarii, member of the esteemed ESUS alliance. Be it known that your offensive, unjust and blatent accusations have offended us..Such slander will not be tolerated. You are infantismal, nothing. Little effort would be needed to plow you under. Watch your steps, and do not let a foolish quest for glory, or dreams of dismantling the ESUS to gain you a name amongst the powerful and famous nations of our time cause you to make belligerant actions you qill regret. It is doubtful these 'benefactors' that you so proudly parade before you would be able to stand fearless against the might of the Trailarii. We are undaunted by your threats. Again we suggest that you walk carefully along this path you take, else you may endure much suffering.

A brown-haired, brown-eyed, nondescript man sat at a large, varnished oak desk, his lips tight, and his hair combed neatly. Indeed, he would not stand out in a crowd of two.

"Hmmm... Intruiging. Prepare the Diplomatic Fleet, we're going out. We'll meet them at a time, and at a place of their choosing, but I doubt they'll like the results... Pitiful fools. As if such a challenge would go unpunished..."

OOC: My nation is one of those evil, "rapetehworldzforfilthylucre", horrible, and just plain mean nations out there.

IC: "Very well, commander. I will ready the Fleet, and prepare the diplomats. On the off-chance that they get a transmission off before we slaughter them, should we create some propaganda to make sure we do not get caught, or worse, exposed?"

This man had wavy, blue hair, browned skin, was relatively short, and carried two ceremonial swords at his sides. He spoke in a low, steady near-monotone, and looked rather self-satisfied.

"Of course. You know what to do. Do it."

The man standing before the desk gave a curt nod, and walked briskly off, already thinking, thinking of orders to give, thinking of the best knives in the dark...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Two minutes later, the bridge of the Maguerita

"Well, my friends. The time for yet another war is at hand. The Council has.. 'suggested' that we destroy this upstart Consortium before it can deal any damage to our invincible reputation, and so we are to ready a 'diplomatic fleet'. Firstly, K'hay, you will prepare a diplomatic statement. Y'lloy and John, you will prepare the fleet for departure, and Ijak, you will procure me some... unsavoury types, who know how to do a job well. Go."

People dashed off in every direction, ships' engines whirring to life, blue lights flashing, people sitting at desks, typing reports. Indeed, the simple message of the Consortium had made this outer-colony base active, six ships readied, and a message sent off, winging its way through the black void towards the Consortium...

Message to the Illustrious Consortium

Greetings, neighbours. If you would be so kind as to specify those situations in which the ESUS has supposedly raped entire worlds, or destroyed entire sentient species, for simple wealth. Indeed, we would be most aggrieved to find this so.

We will attend your meeting, and have a diplomat en route, who should be there within three days. We hope that this can be resolved without combat.
Yours sincerely, Ambassador-General Mashithik.

- - - - - - - -

Suit, tux, Appropriate pampering, scaled quantum pistol ... ah, wherever could it be? Oh bother, My bowtie just has to go walkabout, doesn't it?

Impeccable in formal atire stood the senior Xenonian Ambassador, all 274 years young, Sir Charles Beswick (The Progentior) Dreyfuss, sire of Jeoffrey, Jacob and Jepanphrem and of course, the person the entire protectorate would turn to in the event of total diplomatic disaster, or challenge.

Switching from a comtemplative thought pattern to his own voice, he ran over exactly what the latest Neuralink package had illuminated. The Esus, challenged by a foreign power! Such times they were ... such times.

"Allrighty. We have a group of bright young chaps and a few bitter old men who think far too highly of themselves, out to get a foe their perceive as easy meat after a small amount of prod. Bloody hell ESUS, you make me play caretaker like the mother to a teenage child!"

Drey didn't doubt the veracity of the statements at all. The notion that the ESUS, half of which liked to make aliens go "splat!" and the other half who wanted to hug the buggers, every nation out for itself first and foremost, was an golden angel was foolish. To the average ESUS nation, a world mattered not, so common sense suggested the concerns of the voice was true. Although Xenonier had a clean slate.

There was certainly going to be a fuss about this one and Drey had to be there. Not only would he be able to finally get the protectorate involved in a diplomatic "fuss", but he had the chance to finally evaluate more than the "guns so big we are overcompensating for something" Central Facehuggerian Xenophobes, or the "sit back, drink coffee, Battleplate GG man" Kanuckistani (Kanucks, Kanuckians? Meh, they probably didn't care what he called them).

Of course, being stuck in the capital system of the protectorate, which just so happened to a galaxy far far away (Drey made a mental note to slap himself for such abuse of overated and overused cliches) he needed a transport man. Which was exactly why he was here, in the middile of nowhere, miles from any sign of civilisation, waiting for just the person.

Seconds later, he was gone, Tux, concealed arms and all.

Spinning around, he lifted up the Quantum pistol and found two staring himself in the face. Smiling, Drey knew this was going to be a fun time as he stared at his contemporay. The number of suicidal missions the pair had done ..

"So, Hergiv. How are you?"

"Reasonable, Comerade. We are already leaving. Notice to the .... "voice" has already been prepared and transmitted, I take it? No, don't speak" returned Hergiv, the pistols held by both anthromorph and ancient now falling to their sides.

"Already done. Now, how's that absoulute stunner of a Neko I assume you've enjoyed the company of going? You know, Kenta?"

Hergiv began walking away after the first syllable was uttered. The face told the Kaptain all he needed to know. Drey only got that sort of a grin when he made subtle "comments" about his fellows. He was a father of kids who asked too many questions at too young an age, after all.

Notice from the Xenonian Protectorate to the "voice"

Yeah, whatever. Carry on like someone cares, because we don't. Either way, we'll come along to this little meeting, if only to clear our name. Can't speak for anyone else, but we have the name "Protectorate" for a reason and it involves nothing of the crimes (and I use that subjectively) you claim.

Charles Dreyfuss.

Xenonian Senior Ambassador.

OOC:

This is better, but I would like more actual diplomats on the ground, just so that I can kill them in a firey burst of plasmatic death. :p

A more indepth and character-laden post is nearly ready, I'm just waiting to get this filler out of the way.

(Yes, I know this post isn't very good. It's filler meant to make up for my lack of posting over the past week or so.)

IC:

The asteroid nee diplomatic rondevous point was a small and unassuming rock that dwelled in the Sol asteroid belt. merely a hollowed out rock some three hundred meters to an end, cratered and devoid of any embellishment, any distinguishing marks between it and any one of the other millions of chunks of rock floating in the belt. Outside, it was unremarkable. And inside, it was as well.

It boasted a small and pathetic dock, which led almost directly towards the living quarters for the two dozen or so crew, and further on from there, the hallway led to the conference room. That conference room was the entire reason behind the work done on the otherwise useless hunk of rock. It would soon host a wide variety of delegates, and, if all went according to plan, the universe would be less several ESUS citizens before long.

For the fact is, that the Consortium never intended to negotiate with the ESUS. That was not their goal. Instead, they planned to gather ESUS leaders here, together, and kill them all in one brilliant flash of vented plasma. Then, while the ESUS reeled in shock from the loss of so many prominent diplomats, the Consortium would perform its most daring, perhaps foolhardy mission thus far…

But for now, they had to ensure that no suspicions were aroused. They had to ensure that the diplomats docked without incident.

So to that end, they broadcasted docking clearance to the Kanuckistani cutter that had showed up several million kilometers ‘above’ the base. But one diplomat… They needed more. The Xenoiers government had promised one, but he, or she, was absent thus far. The Hyperspatial Travelers had promised a diplomatic ‘fleet,’ which would more likely be a warfleet to intimidate and conquer, if their past actions were any indication.

The Xanthalian and Megas governments had speedily sent messages of spineless non-participation. It was just as well; they were not fit to play in the war that was coming on at a breakneck pace. The Trailarii however seemed much more easily… provoked.

It would be a trivial matter to send them a message. So that was exactly what was done. A short message meant to incite them, to fill them with anger.

To: Trailarii government.
From: The Consortium.
Subject: Re. ESUS.

So, the ESUS shows it’s true, warmongering colors at last, does it? We always knew you were barbarians incapable of a discussion like civilized beings. Why else would you warn us with implied threats rather than send a diplomat to our meeting, as any civilized nation would do? The Trailarii people are obviously the very bloodthirsty people that we said the ESUS held within its ranks.

You are proving us right.

OOC: Just because Xanthal isn't about to jump into a war with you does not mean its leaders won't talk to you.

IC:
The Xanthalian government's diplomatic shuttle, a standard Käleka-class vessel, arrives just under two days from reciept of the original message at the prescribed coordinates. It contacts the small asteroid base's command center, if the hastily-constructed facility even has such a thing. "This is an official transport of the Socialist Republic of Xanthal. We request permission to dock and deliver a diplomatic representative as solicited by the Consortium alliance."

OOC reference:
Käleka (light transport):
The Käleka light transport is the most mass-produced of all the Läböl’s ships. Incredibly functional, most larger ships carry at least one aboard to use both for transportation between vessels and facilities and as an escape vehicle when evacuation orders are issued. Because its facilities total up to be little more than engines and a basic AI for information storage and navigation, the two-compartment Käleka, though small, has a great deal of empty space by volume for transporting people, cargo, or any combination of the two.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v88/Zorak950/NS/Calicke.jpg
Dimensions: 10x8x4 meters.
Building cost: $500,000
-Powerplant: One substance/antisubstance reaction chamber (10 terawatt output).
-Ion engines: maximum speed 50,000 km/s.
-Space-time bubble generator.
-Maneuvering thrusters: turn radius at maximum speed 200,000 kilometers.
-Fuel capacity: 1,000 liters.
-Fuel range: about 5 days normal operation.
-Complement: 2 crew, 1 AI, up to 30 passengers OR 150 cubic meters cargo.
-No weapons.
-No shields.
-Armor rating: 1.
-Takeoff/Landing capable with adequate landing pad.

"Fools."

The word echoed through the dark hall on the capital world Trailaria Prime. Eighteen kilometers beneath the center hub of the framework of cables and bridges that spanned the planet in a titanic structure called the Met, the seat of the Lord Admiral, the dynasty which had ruled the Trailarii since their very foundations on Sol. He allowed his mind to delve into the virtulity of the communication program which permeated the grist of his Warlords Hall. Such irony, to be called barbarous so long after their bearded, raiding past had been put aside. His thoughts were being transferred to a legal communication between governments.

Such as you are not worthy to look into the eyes if the illustrious Trailarii, unless it be in surrender, or with your blood on our hands. Do not bother to respond, your fate is sealed.

Secretly, several Childer were given the task of sorting through the records of the asteroid station throughout its history.

They started with the original discovery of the asteroid. They followed every reference associated with it until the chunk of rock was first settled and the operations for hollowing it out to make room for the facility started. They earmarked all the sponsors of the corporation behind its fabrication. They followed the history of corporate contracts and the ownership of the facility until just recently. The current owners were deeply probed and information was gathered upon their corporate sponsors.

The recent activity that were preparing for the delegates arrival had to be ordered by someone. They sent Sniffer Programs into the station to slip by the bases simple protections. They monitored the traffic and the history both in the communication servers as well as the local hubs and anywhere that might store the locations of the orders. They pointed towards the one person who could be giving the orders locally. A thorough check was made on the individual, as well as tracing the communications they participated in. This was to see where the influence was that ordered the suspension of the facility activities in order to allow the meeting.

A Sentient AI was sent aboard the communications system through an opening created by the Sniffers. The AI picked a small unseen spot to hide and using its Psionics, began to subtly scan the target. It relayed the information to several waiting Childer in immaterial forms outside the asteroid. They have been placed there by a passing freighter, unknown to the crew of said freighter.

The information they picked up was forwarded to the Childer who were doing the background research. They would investigate any possible leads in an attempt to plow through any dummy corporations set up to hide the sponsor nations behind this meeting.

In T-Space, a full scan of the asteroid had been undertaken several times until the crew could almost duplicate the circuitry. They could track each person inside by their gravimetric disturbance, bioelectric fields, magnetic displacement, spatial disturbance, and dimensional signatures.

The scans continued outside the station looking for any reading that might be out of the ordinary, all the way up to the 7th dimension just in case there was the possibility of a DD(dimensional drive) in use.


Ever since they had been attacked by some of the ESUS members, they were very careful of any sort of ambush. It wasn’t that they were paranoid, they were careful. Very careful.

…and unforgiving.


OOC:

I don’t plan on attending because of some “difficulties” I have had with a couple other ESUS members but I will participate indirectly and attempt to keep this going. When the Difficulties are done, I will take actions as a nation, depending upon the outcome.

EDIT:

You can TG any info I might discover. It will allow you to keep it off this Thread if you wish.

OOC: My diplomat is a recurring character, but It will be fun to have you guys kill him, or rather his body. Nice twist from the usual fleet vs fleet combat :)

My apologies about the fact I couldn't rp the gathering of information like Balrogga could. I'm still wondering how I ever could match that.

Finally, on the subject of an OOC thread. If you lot don't mind, I'll set one up immediately.

IC

The lineship containing Drey and Hergiv continued to move lazily along it's way, target aquired and the ship following the normal routine of delivering it's cargo. The slow pace was dictated by nessecity, as one had to be careful after all.

Hergiv, as would be expected of a Kaptain, trusted no-one. While any Xenonian displayed a preternatural ability in virutally every aspect of their life, he was a soldier and a damn fine one at that. Ever since the wars to destroy the Wraith, and the betrayal of the Tyraelia conflict, Xenonier had their own measures in place. Data would be collated by the ship, by the diplomatic shuttle sent out to carry Dreyfuss into the region. Tiny stealthed probes, nanomollecular in size were scanning the area ahead of the ship, checking for weapons, signs ... anything. They would repeat the scans of the area, the moment the ship entered and Drey was brought forth.

Hunter-Seeker Algorithimns, their progress veiwed through the minds eye of both the ships Ai, and everyone of the crew, collated possible problems, suggestions, plans. The conclusions were drawn up, communicated with the Protectorate, run over, cross-referenced and anaylsed to the point where concerns were voiced over the fact the analysis of the data was taking up too much of the Neuralink's time. The voice and other keyword's metnioned n the scant communication given had their historical meaning compared to anything and everything in the databases. Every aspect of the communication, the nature and language of the communication was assessed. The aura of the place was asessed through throuough veiwing by the Miak's crew. Everyone was a Xenonian and hence, everyone was possessive of physic potential that had been harvested and trained remorselessly since birth.

One kept showing up, a recurrent factor. That was, there was nothing suspiscious beyond a hidden enemy whatsoever. Golden rule of the soldier. When nothing's wrong, there damn well is something wrong, because if whoever you're fighting went through enough trouble to prepare a perfect platter, there's posion hidden underneath.

Hergiv knew this would go to hell. Only 17% of the plausible data had been acessed, and nothing whatsoever was coming up. The consortium, had stacked their cards well. Running over every detail, he passed it through the Neuralinks, where drey saw everything.

Lets profile this consortium.

Allrighty. Vengeful bastards, given the language and tone utilised in the message. Probably the type to avoid direct conflict, an organisation that has designed the perfect meeting place, nothing conspicous bar the obvious to kill in stealth, and launch into a war. We don't know enough of it's history, but we will and perhaps we can crossrefernece that with any other ESUS members. No obvious flaws, no mistakes, and no massive fleet that could obliterate us in a pinch.

Yep, it's a trap.

Hergiv was interrupted by the uploading of thoughts to see Drey behind him. The kaptain gave a grim smile and a slight nod at the responce of his diplomatic buddy.

"I'm still going."

"Correct, you are. However, you know the risks. Upload your mind pattern to the Neuralink every nanosecond. I trust you will be wearing a full Quantum Shield"

Drey's eyebrows rose slightly at this, before his diplomatic instinct overtook the more conventional one.

"Why on earth would I, wear a shield that is fitted to our combat infantry into a diplomatic meeting?"

"Why would you carry a concealed quantum pistol in the arch of your anthromorphic foot, numerous poisions and nanological retroviruses in your fingernail, a Nanomollecular claw fitted around your normal one, and have the entirety of the 7th fleet, one Miak class lineship in total as backup, into what is a diplomatic proceeding? You will wear it, as well as having your mind uploaded. No arguments about it."

The charade continued for several more hours, even after the Miak had reached the destination and lay immobile there, but it's conclusion was forgone before it had even began. The Gunship, it's weapons stripped was on it's way to the docking point, with one Charles Dreyfuss, his mind uploaded and without a Quantum shield.

After all, even if he got killed, that gave Xenonier an excuse to unleash hell. He wouldn't even be dead permanently either.

The Xanthalian and Megas governments had speedily sent messages of spineless non-participation.
OOC: Hold your horses. I'm not done yet! My government has never been one to be fully on the same page. Political maneuvering, backstabbing, etc... is rampant within the confines of the governing body.

IC:

The sleek frame of the craft seemed to float through space, the gleem of a nearby star glinting off the steel-gray hull. On board were two men of a rare occupation, that of the Nous'gran'diel. Along with their perilous duties came the gift of physical and mental enhancement. They were the premier special forces units of the Megan Empire, easily recognizable by there green-tinged skin and yellow eyes. Of course, it was very doubtful that the Consortuim had knew that.

The corvette-sized Gossamer transport shuttle requested permission to dock at the small asteroid base, along with the handful of other ESUS representatives that were present.

---------------------------------------

"He sent who?!?" LaVitz practically screamed. He had just recieved word that the Supreme Chancellor had granted permission for NGD involvement in the conference. "Why would he let them dictate our position in this affair? The agency is so relatively new, what would they know of foreign politics?"

"Respectfully, sir, I don't believe it is your position to judge the Supreme Chancellor's decision." The messenger responded.

"I don't give a damn what you believe." LaVitz retorted. His voice quivered with anger. "This isn't good. We can't afford to be dragged into another war here. What could the SC be thinking?"

OOC: dont know if this is dead or not but i will post anyway

IC:


power currupts, money is greed, the ESUS is the peace keeper.

"i remember that saying, some old fool part of the Remnant of the Dark empire told my father and he told me." Captain Garlash said, "its not a shock that some would be how to say it.....envy of the power the ESUS has."

"but its a trade allaince nothing more" his CO replyed, "we dont burn worlds and such, single nations do not the allaince."

"that is why i have been sent, if it was forthe ESUS 50 years ago the Coloniel Federal Goverment would have died infact the entire Corpsac region would have died." he looked out the window of the Federal Destroyer to the earth far away, it had been along time since the "holy terra" had become a system the CorpSac were allowed to enter.

"captain your transport is ready" a male voice said over the com system.

"its time" Garlash replyed, "take care of the ship for me"

"aye aye sir"

================


"CAPTAIN ON DECK" one of the Colonial marines shouted, the Sergeant Major who was part of the captains body guard.

All 4 of the marine stood at attention, armed with there M4 assault rifles and 1 of them with a Smart gun.

"at ease" the captain said, "lets get this over and done with". They marines and the captain borded the U-4L dropship, this was something he hadnt done in some time.

================


to the party in question, our Diplomat Captain Garlash is on route with his Bodyguard. Since the colonial federal goverment is in a state of alert with our actions in apex IV we are having to guard all our Officals.

The six-ship fleet set forth, the weaponry cunningly hidden under a visage of lithe, colourful metals, and delicate metalwork, the prow with thousands of intricate carvings on it. Indeed, this small fleet was to remain a decent length away from the meetings, as to not alarm the proceedings. Hell, the armour was ridiculously thin, although the quarters were crowded, to make room for extra shield capacitators, and boosters, the extra three seconds of charging these required meant if a fleet warped in, they'd be of use. If a shot came of out nowhere, they wouldn't be able to react in time.

Two diplomats were on board, Kliath, and Robert. The first being a part-human combat specialist with some minor experience in diplomatic proceedings, and the second being an awarded diplomat, one of the few humans with true diplomatic experience, however, he did have a single advantage that only pure humans, and only very rare pure humans, could access. Mindmelding. He could share his thoughts, in part, with another person, and so could relay the proceedings of the meetings back home at all times, to make sure, if anything happened, the fleets that would remain within twelve minutes, the calculated perfect range for cloaked fleets; they would be invisible to scanning waves, would not show up as anamolies, and could still reach the warzone in time, could easily reach them, and extriacate them, as well as destroy the offending parties. Of course, both wore memory chips, but the cost of FTL communications from a tiny chip was prohibitive, and light-speed transmissions would take over a billion years to reach the Travellian-inhabited galaxy. So they settled for transmitting back to the chip at radio-speed, seeing as it reduced the size of the chip to less than a nanometre, and beaming it from there. Of course, it meant communications were sixty seconds delayed, but this wasn't a major diplomatic meeting with war in the offing, it wasn't vital.

(OOC: I have no magical Phoenix-Down-type device for my people, seeing as we have the whole "one consciousness, cloning is not the same!" mentality. Damn ethics...)

It was all going well. A small fleet, mainly to allay any fears the Consortium might have; after all, if they believed a small 'diplomatic' fleet was the worst of their worries, as he would, after all, if they already have a reasonable modicum of firepower for a small meeting such as this, why have more? However, another ninety ships would easily track down these pitiable newcomers to their homes, and burn them to the ground. Indeed, the members of the ESUS may, from time to time, rape worlds, the Travellian fleets wouldn't even consider that as a viable punishment, instead, they would obliterate them.

He also had a slight genetic alteration, and his body would explode with enough power to level a small city, upon the sending of such a signal. He also carried a single blaster, but only standard civilian issue, as the League didn't really consider this meeting a thread; after all, what would they gain by killing diplomats and destroying a few ships... The answer was rather obvious, but the problem was, here, that the League had grown arrogant. The power they had once gained through the blood of their forefathers was squandered on minor ventures, wars that had no meaning, and luxury.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, a single prediction scientist, K'var, had managed to isolate the very actions, that the Consortium would take. He had defied the program, rewritted it, and then used it again, finding out that the best course of action from a Consortium anywhere from 1/4-3/4 the size of the ESUS would be to attack, and then, while the ESUS was reeling, attack... My god. He had just realised. His own nation was horribly exposed, it had committed the acts that they had talked about, and their fleet had never been more depleted, due to the posturing of politicians. However, they only had a 31.667% chance of attacking him, maybe they would attack someone else. He doubted it, though. If they'd checked their facts, they would easily access the free and open information on League military, trade, and planet mapping, and could easily strike...again. The hundreds of resource colonies aside, the two main 'defensive' worlds were depleted, the trade worlds, no, they were too far apart, but the inner worlds' cover of fleets that constantly swept from Gate to Gate were only a third of their normal size, and the Gate system had fallen into disrepair, due to peace.

This was not good. If he had a tenth of the ESUS resources, he could conquer the main planets in a day, cut off communications to all the others, and then, within another two days, resume falsified conversations. The ESUS, with their bickering, would not fully mobilise, and he had no doubt that the Consortium would slaughter what ground troops he had, and fortify worlds before their fleets could return. Divide and conquer. He had to warn someone!

He ran out, before remember it was yet another damned holiday. The government wouldn't listen, he knew that, but the military might. No, they were closed for the day here, on G'vin, and everyone else would direct him to those two. He whimpered. It would be two days before he could get in contact with anyone, and he didn't know whether the distance from the Milky Way would stop anyone, but, when he considered the huge, instantaneous trading Gates, he whimpered again. He sat down, despondently, and hoped to hell he'd made a major fuck-up in the programming...

(OOC: When you attack, pick me! I've been wanting to RP a decently-played invasion for ages, and haven't had the oppurtunity! Cmoooon!)

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Several hours later, nearing the asteroid

The pretty ships began to slow down, and lowered their weapons, opening a comminique to the Consortium.

"Greetings, Consortium... people. We are here to discuss those terms you have ungraciously set before us, and hope we can reach an unviolent solution. We will dock with shuttles, as so not to alarm your... delicate personas, and not to scare you. However, be informed that you have nothing to fear. Our ships are simply for resupply and escorts against pirates, and we certainly no not fear an attack from you. I thank you in advance for allowing us to dock"

The entire message had a slightly insulting tone to it; the diplomat had been ordered, in no uncertain terms, to make them feel slightly put-down, and add a tinge of sarcasm, to prevent them from being civil, so the Travellian attack, when it came, would be somewhat justifiied. Of course, the arrogant stance that ninety ships could defeat a thousand was probably somewhat antique, but the League was like that.

The ships slowed down considerably, and then stopped, waiting for Consortium permission to dock...

OOC: Teh LINKY! http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=9748463#post9748463

Feel the power of the OOC thread! FEEL IT!

--QUETZAL NODE ONLINE
--INITIALIZING TRIPARTITE SEQUENCE
--CONVO STARTED
--EGO has joined the conversation
--SUPER has joined the conversation
--ID has joined the conversation

ID: So, what do you want me to kill today, boss?

SUPER: You're unusually cheery.

ID: Just got done with clean-up on ORS-1412. The natives are tough little bastards, and since you didn't want them annihilated this time, was even more annoying.

EGO: Sadly, that's part of the reason I've called you here. You have been breifed on the Consortium?

ID: Of course. As I said before, kill the fethers. Drop a virus bomb on their home worlds and be done with it.

SUPER: Oh my...

EGO: I would, but its not that simple. We have no idea who they are or where they are.

ID: True, but-

EGO: And then there's the fact that they've called out the ESUS on certain actions. Node, play back sequence 1639376-JS.

NODE: "Their members rape entire worlds, killing any sentient beings found in their quest for more filthy lucre. They claim entire solar systems without heed for life that was there first."

ID: Well, they hit the nail on the head...

SUPER: Why, that sounds like us! Well, Id at least...

EGO: Exactly. While the odds are that this is blatant propaganda, they got lucky with a few facts.

ID: So what do we do boss?

SUPER: Negotiate?

EGO: That is an option. We have been given coordinates of an asteroid base, where the Consortium wishes to meet with ESUS diplomats.

SUPER: Well send an Avatar vessel!

ID: And for Dieties sake, arm the thing! Remember the fiasco on Tabernackle?

EGO: Both your suggestions are valid. Armed Avatar vessel will door in at the asteroid momentarily.

--SUPER has left the conversation

ID: Good. I see you've deployed the virus bomb model. Hoping to get lucky, are we?

EGO: We can always hope, Id. Ego out.

--EGO has left the conversation
--ID has left the conversation
--TRIPARTITE SEQUENCE ENDED
--QUETZAL NODE DEACTIVATED


____________________________


A few kilometers away from the asteroid complex, a sleek ovoid vessel slipped from the necroscopic portal. Activating its plasma drives, it swooped towards the asteroid, into the dock. Opening its hatch, it cut the Avatar loose. Standing, the ornately decorated machine walked briskly into the conference room. It nodded politely at the assembled ESUS diplomats, and took a seat in one of the chairs.

Despite their obvious threats to the consortium, the Trailarii apparently had decided to send some sort of diplomat anyway. This could be deduced from the fact that but a few kilometers from the asteroid a chrome, streamlined craft of a small frigate class. Very small. The thing seemed to be able to fit no more than nine people comfortably. It was blatently and loudly broadcasting a Traileric signature, and for extra confirmation the standard of the Trailarii (Click link in my siggy to see it) was plastered on either side of the craft. Unarmed, by all appearences, and a docking port visible in the bottom of the craft. Standard diplomatic vessel. Curiously, it made not move to approach or dock with the asteroid, simply waiting where it had exited the wormhole.

OOC: Rather short, but I have very little to GO ON. *Nudges the consorties, hard*

The Station's true history, not the falsehood held on the information nets, or even the facility's own computers, was quite bland. It was, until mere months ago, just a random chunk of rock floating in space unclaimed, with only a number to its name.

But the history that the Consortium dataspinners created for it on the other hand had more twists and turns than a Byzantine plot. It was originally an asteroid research-facility established by the Facehuggerian arms manufacturer CFAC before their third alien invasion and the creation of their Empire. But during their 'fall,' it was sold to a small and independent mining company to help pay for war materiel. This company fell upon extremely hard times, and was forced to declare bankruptcy. As a consequence, the universal bank (OOC: Roughly analogous to the FT world bank,) seized all of the company's possessions, including the asteroid base.

Unfortunately, the bank did not see any value to the property, so they desperately sought to unload it at auction, which they did, for a dirt-cheap price. A price low enough for an independent consumer to snap it up and make it his homestead. He fortified it, as was his wont, and lived like a post modern survivalist, always paranoid that the aliens were going to get him.

When he died, the facility went to his son, who used it as a base for a bit of Robin Hood-esque privateering, stealing from the wealthy, like the ESUS, and giving to the poor destitute peoples of the universe. But the noble profession of piracy is a dangerous occupation, and the famous pirate was ambushed and killed raiding a military convoy for medical supplies.

After the Pirate's death, the base fell into disrepair for a long, long time. When it was found by a prospector from CFAC/IA who recognized the old design. And now, its ownership has come full circle. CFAC/IA, the successor to the original CFAC has retaken its original facility for reasons known only to itself. Records show they renovated it, even prepared a diplomatic conference room within its belly. But why?

Why indeed. That was an answer that the dataspinners, for all their brilliance, had not even attempted to answer. It was obvious they intended to frame the Facehuggerians, but there was little chance of the Balroggans discovering the deception. In all likelihood, they would see the trails leading back to the Facehuggerians, and jump to conclusions immediately. All to sow discord and disunity throughout the ESUS. As the Consortium understood it, those two nations were not the best of friends. And when mistrust is the order of the day, it can't help but strengthen the Consortium's cause...

OOC: There's another little bit of filler for you guys. This time detailing the parts of the Balroggan investigation that they would be able to reasonably make happen. Getting an AI onto the station remotely is not possible, given that the network doesn't accept outside access. It's a totally closed network. Remember that we've done our research, we know the ESUS has AI nations like Neo-Mekanta amongst your ranks. We've taken precautions. If you really insist that the AI would be able to infiltrate the network (perhaps through some sort of psionic tomfoolery,) understand that you may not like the alternative. ;)

OOC2: Xenonier, if this guy's a recurring character, he doesn't have to die. I'm willing to be lenient on that. We can work something out OOCly on the OOC thread if you don't want him dead.

OOC3: All, I'm working on my next post, but all these things which need quick replies are really slowing that down! Oh, and pokes consortium. Get off your lazy buts people and start writing!

OOC: Hm, I might get involved in this.

OOC: So... does the Xanthalian vessel have clearance to dock at the asteroid or not? ...Or am I just supposed to shut up and wait?

OOC: So... does the Xanthalian vessel have clearance to dock at the asteroid or not? ...Or am I just supposed to shut up and wait?

OOC: You're supposed to shut up and put it in the OOC thread. :p

Anyway, yes, all diplomatic vessels have permission to dock. Your diplomats will be led into a large room with comfy-looking chairs, small fruit bowls, and an overriding sense that they're making a mistake. :)

The Xanthalian shuttle docks and a young human woman steps out into the docking area. Following her escort patiently, she takes a seat in the base's meeting area, folding her hands on the table in front of her and waiting for... well, she's not exactly sure what she's waiting for, but she is waiting nonetheless.

The Kanuckistani Diplomatic Cutter, little larger than your average shuttle, touched down silently in the asteroid's hangar; reactionless drives winding down, switching over to warm standby.

Another soft tone from the autopilot signled their arrival, Jennifer Locklear taking a final moment to straighten her exoticly cut business suit, the well endowed fox-women then donning her wrist-comp befor making for the hatch.


Outside, the vessel's seamless, solid silver hull parted; door opening amid the Corps' crest that adorned the cutter's side. A moment passing befor movement stirrs within; the Kanuckistani diplomat steping out of the darkened cabin and into the light - a creature of womanly curves and crimson fur, ebon cloth tightly hugging her body; the style reminicent of a modern woman's business suit, but tailored to tease and reveal, accentuating her form - six inch heels and a miniskirt indecently short by most judgments finalising the outfit.

Amber eyes twinkle behind a vulpine muzzel as she looks around, expecting an escort; a few elements of gold and mithiril jewelry glittering in the light as her tail sways behind her - suprisingly tastfull given the rest of her outfit.


When they arrive, she greets them with good cheer and a coy twinkle in her eye, following them to to the conference room; thanking them as they leave her with the other diplomats who arrived befor her.

She takes a moment, then, to look around; examining the room with cyberneticly enhanced, geneticly optimised senses - peering beyond the walls with sonar and various imaging filters; expecting to find bugs or hidden screens, maybe a one-way observation panel or prehaps into a neighbouring but unrelated room, but not anything of consiquence; the exercise one of time killing more than anything else, while they await their hosts.

Garlash looked round the dropship, with only 5 people plus the Pilot and co Pilot it was empty. He sat wondering what was going on, why would a group tell such lies. Even if a few Members of the did what they said its no reason to say its the alliance at hole.

"Sergeant Major, once we land i dont want a thing to get on this dropship. In my eyes this ship is our territory, shot to kill no questions. Tell the pilot to keep the engines hot incase we get an unwelcome sending away, i want 2 of your men to escort me there and stand guard outside along side anyone elce." Garlash said.

"yes sir" the Serg Major replyed.

Garlash looked round, he could hear the pilot speaking to what ever it was that was giving clearance.

"this is Aerospace Dropship fast horse, asking clearace to dock." the Pilot said.

"clearance granted, follow the GC" a voice replyed over the comm channel.

"confirmed, locking on. slowing speed to half thrust, turning over control to Auto Computer." the pilot had switched over the manual control to the computer.

The dropship lined up perfectly with the docking bay and glided in landing perfectly with a slight crunch, as soon as it lowered the Captain and the Special operation colonial marines followed him down. one of the teams, the gun team stood guard over the dropship. One with a smart gun the other with a M4 Assault rifle both standing guard a the end of the ramp, scaning the area at all times watching waiting.

The Captain didt say much to what ever was meeting him, he just allowed them to show him where to go. The 2 colonial marines followed and the captain was going to ignore any objections, he didnt go anywhere without alest a gun team to guard him. This for him was going to be the first time he ever met the other races of the ESUS, first time he had to deal with a diplomatic mission concerning the ESUS and he didnt like it.

Gunships are quite strange vehicles, by all accounts. Xenonians call them gunships because of their battelfield roles in combat, that being a heavy support vessell, a mobile gun platform (gosh, they are imaginative, aren't they?) for the Raptr interceptors.

Strangely enough, anyone else who has had the misfortune of going toe-to-toe with these sleek machines call them "Capital ship killers". Given their excessive armour, small size and somewhat frighening amounts of firepower that can be unloaded in nanoseconds, of which is evidenced in the ability of five of these to destroy a Heavy cruiser in seconds, it's not suprising.

Gotta wonder why they use these things as shuttles, eh? But then again, that's Xenonians for you. If they say it's not going to fire, it won't. Being true to one's word is the measure of a Xenonian in many ways. Which is why the protectorate still wondered if any of the accusations applied to their own country. If they did, they faced accusations that were no more than propaganda.

Either way, at the docking bay, it was one of these that unloaded the smart, charming Charles Beswick.. (etcetera) Dreyfuss. He had no obvious weapons, bar the fact he was an Canine-anthromorph and thus, had natural claws. Pausing only to adjust the Tux he was wearing, and make sure he the bowtie just right Charles walked straight into the meeting room.

The delegates were, as far as he could tell, a Human with heavy combat gear (Could have been chronosia, but Drey doubted, not nearly enough tentacles/slime/buboes/shrunkenheads/signs of slannesh and whatever else ). Corpsac perhaps?

Young Human woman, probably a human group, (not overtly agressive like hyperspace travel would be expected), but he still wasn't sure. Two possiblities, both even.

Finally, the ... Kanuckistan delegate. Drey swore and closed his eyes momentarily, muttering into the neurralink. The end result was a chained reply of twittering laughter, up and down the Protectorate that cared enough to watch his progress.

"I am a married man. I am a married man. "

The Xanthalian diplomat, clothed in the formal diplomatic attire of the Socialist Republic, acknowledges the others as they enter by meeting their eyes and nodding. She is very average in almost every way, defying description. Moderate height, perhaps 175 centimeters, average weight, shoulder-length blonde hair, unremarkable facial features and sparse makeup. She does wear a white on black name tag on her left chest, pinned to the uniform. "Casey Resthor / Official Diplomatic Representative / Socialist Republic of Xanthal," it reads on three neatly centered lines of text, the name larger than the title and country. She takes a laptop from the black case she has brought with her and sets it up on the table in front of her, reviewing the briefing she has been given on this assignment.

Uniform of official diplomatic representatives of the Socialist Republic:
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v88/Zorak950/NS/Diplomat.jpg

The NGD's weren't the type to enjoy luxuries. Nearly 25 years of AIT had taught them to appreciate the finer things in life, but never to take them for granted. As such, they were both quite uncomfortable in their cushioned chairs, as was obvious by their constantly shifting bodies, their crisp uniforms rustling with each movement.

The air in the room was tense. Of course, neither had relaxed since the final approach to dock at the station. Locke surveyed the room as more and more ESUS ambassadors and representatives began to fill the room. He looked to Bron, who nodded in acknowledgement. Silently, they waited for the presentation of the Consortium representatives.

Though the Tkalgren had not wanted to involve themselves in this issue, they found themselves sending a diplomat to these talks. They knew themselves not to be responsible for these terrible acts for a number of reasons, but it was the TTR's duty to assist their allies in the ESUS.. Most obviously, they had not even been a spacefaring nation when many of these injustices had occured. Secondly, to do as had been claimed would rank high among crimes which no Tkalgren with any sort of authority would pursue.

So it was with an air of determination and strength that Pktolsh Awijs-Hreun Ktoton stepped across the threshold of his shuttle's door into the facility's docking area. He was a well-trained diplomat, and had spent forty Tkal Standard years studying humans and how to deal with them. Now it would all be put to the test as he attempted to finess a peace between his nation's allies and those they had wronged so many years ago. If he succeeded his name would be in all the history books for preventing a major war, if he failed his name would be a footnote to those admirals who fought it. And there was no way he was going to let a bunch of meatheads overshadow him, especially since the diplomacy wing of the Rupil government depended on his performance.

He glided gracefully into the meeting area, where he noticed the other ESUS delegates' agitated states. He was slightly suprised by the presence of some non-humans. But they were on his 'side' so he wouldn't have to worry too much about reading their facial expressions. A quick sniff of the air confirmed that their phermones were close enough to those of humans that he would still be able to smell their strongest emotions. He double-checked that his Aide was recording everything and transmiting broadband back to his shuttle, then tappd out a few commands for his translator, changing it from standard settings to his own custom. Finally, he sat on the floor to wait for the appearance of the opposition delegates. He would be standing long enough once the conference began-since there was little chance of him disgracing himself by trying to fit in the human chairs they had provided.

"Sir, we've pulled up some background information on the asteroid. It belonged to the....nairegguhecaF... stupid computer!"

At this point, the non-descript man pulled out a spanner, and gave the computer a hard thwack. Clouds of dust poured out, and he swore. "Goddamn funding. Goddamn taxes. Why the hell did they drop goddamn computer funding, for the sixth time this year?! For goddsake, we had better damn computers a few hundred years ago! Goddamn. Oh well. At least they haven't fired all the engineers, y'know?"

Another man, sitting at a small, white, plastic desk, was sipping a drink, and looking quite content. He leaned sideways, tapped a few keys on the computer the nondescript man was having trouble with, and smiled beautifically. "There. It should work now."

The computer whirred, and the screen sprang to life once more.

[Asteroid history: Owned initially by Facehuggerian merchant-company CFAC. Sold to a small company, name unknown. Assets consilidated by galactic bank. Sold to private citizen.]
[Second owner: Private. Name unknown. Cause of death: Natural]
[Hereditary ownership instituted, male child third owner. Possible criminal. Cause of death unknown, probably violent]
[CFAC/IA last owner before Consortium. Unknown reasons for construction of facilities.]
[Probability of data correctness: 35%. More probable is that the owner was one of the members of the factions opposing Central Facehuggeria in the Civil War. More information is required before a conclusion can be reached.]

The man frowned. The diplomat was walking on board the asteroid now, and he didn't have time to run a full background check. He naturally assumed it was false, simply through sheer instinct, after all, would the Consortium choose to reside on an asteroid 'raped' by one of the very nations they professed to despise? Doubtful. His face creased further, and he sat back, deep in thought...


....meanwhile, the diplomat stepped off his spaceship, and into the dock. He had a horrible feeling something would be going wrong, luckily, he had his escort, the part-human, part-Xyloth combat specialist. He'd taken a lot of effort to make his friend look normal and friendly, and even more to conceal twin stun pistols on his body, and another in a miniature scanner-proof box underneath his foot, cunning concealed under the strange, hardened skin flaps.

He smiled graciously to the people who were there to welcome him, and sat down quietly in the conference room, however, his eyes keenly observing everything around him, the tiny implant in one eye recording everything, transmitting it back to the ship, and, from there, transmitting back to the League.

He nodded to the other ESUS diplomats, and took in careful notice of the way they dressed, what they appeared to be carrying, and... damn. His eye had made a miniscule whirring noise, but perhaps enough to be picked up on sensor. He swore that next time, the military needed a raise. This goddamn device only displayed in infra-red and ultraviolet, and it really wasn't very effective; and he doubted he'd find anything out of the ordinary. The power meter was reading normal, and everything seemed perfectly fine aboard the station. However, he just could not shake the feeling of uneasiness he had; he felt uneasy, and, although his manner only betrayed the tiniest hint of restlessness, it was a crack in his otherwise perfect demeanour.

Stop it!, he thought to himself. "It'll be fine, you're a accredited, awarded diplomat, you'll be fine. Fine!".

He sat down, flashing his charming smile at the rest of the group, his teeth pearly-white, his skin slightly bronzed. Kliath sat down, as well, smiling broadly at the rest of the group, her more pointed canine teeth displayed openly, and although her claws were retracted. A failed experiment in the search for a super-soldier, she was, however, deadly, nearly invisible to scans, and exceedingly quick. However, although it was obvious enough she was a combat veteran; she doubted anyone would comment. This was, after all, a diplomatic meeting, and all here would be polite. She moved her smile down an order of magnitude; ceasing to show her teeth, and slowly looked around the room, also observing, and waiting...

-=High Halls, Arizona Prime

"Damn it!"

Gustav Kelemen hit the mute button. It was that damn message again.

"Vincent - why the hell are we still getting that transmission? Every time I check the inbox it starts playing, despite the fact I've deleted it about a hundred damn times by now!"

Vincent simply grunted. "I don't know. The rest of the department is getting fed up with it too - it keeps bouncing around their inboxes."

Gustav cursed again as he looked over the various messages and transmissions. He had seen advertisements that had gone, for lack of a better word, rampant and freeze up top-of-the-line computers, but whatever this thing was, it took the cake for all-time champion of communication annoyances.

"Do you think if we went someone we could get some peace? I'm fed up with trying to kill this thing."

Vincent simply sighed and paged through the cluttered pages of the database. "We already told them about it. They didn't really care."

"Would it hurt them that much? The Empress goes tooling about in a battleship the size of an island at a whim, they can afford to send some no one in a tin can to sort this out."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Damn it do I need to learn to keep my mouth shut."

Within about a day, Gustav had received notice of a special assignment being given to him: rendevous with other ESUS delegates at the coordinates specified in 'the message' and find out what was going on. He was willing to bet just about anything that Vincent was probably sitting back at the High Halls laughing right now. Additionally, the homeworld had been so generous to furnish him with a Renegade cutter, a ship so small and lightly armored that stellar dust in hyperspace could probably finish it. As the vessel neared the edge of the system he punched in the coordinates and with a whine the vessel slipped into hyperspace.

The diplomat leaned foward, did some random little action, yawned, and asked "Hey, when are the representatives of this 'Consortium' arriving? Does anyone have any idea?"

Casey turns to look at the delegate. "I do not know. For a function as obscure as this however, and considering our lack of knowledge and relations with the Consortium, I would recommend that you be fully prepared to wait."

Ktoton spoke quietly, allowing his translator to do the amplifying rather than straining his voice. Soon the pleasant sound of polite conversation drifeted forth from its speaker: "If they called us here, they sould at least have the decency to tell us what time they'll be arriving. Or at least to provide some sort of refreshments," he joked to lighten the mood. "Not that I'd be too affected by your human liquors."

Total sensory immersion didn’t relate pain, at least not in the same way Ardos would recognise it had his inserts not linked his mind directly into the ship AI. Regardless of what the manual said, however, Ardos cringed every time he felt a lump of debris knock against the hull, scraping paintwork and denting the metal plating. He tried to forget that it was all that was protecting him from the vacuum outside. Normally he’d have shields to maximum in an asteroid field as dense as this one appeared, but he was running in silent mode, attempting to minimise his sensor presence. He was wrapped in several layers of thick semi-organic clothing, in a vain attempt to insulate him from the frozen air of the Erdom; he was thankful that the size of the ship ensured he would not run out of breathable air for some months yet, but the lack of life support did mean subzero ambient temperatures. All part of the stealth profile.

The Erdom was fresh off the assembly line. He didn’t know where it came from, he’d just woke up one day, wired into the systems with the AI informing him in a polite but firm voice that he was to perform the mission or die. His inserts continued to monitor the chair he was bolted onto. Its status remained unchanged; it remained hooked to a circuit capable of pushing 40,000 volts through his body should he disobey his orders. Ardos wasn’t sure what his crime was. The Inspectorate had erased his memories. He clung to the hope that if he performed his mission well, he’d be granted a pardon and the chance at a new life. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what he did.

“Perhaps I killed my family”, he thought. “Perhaps I raped a child. It’s better I don’t know.”

His passive sensors were monitoring the small craft docked at the asteroid, some million kilometres away. He knew that it would take 3.3 seconds for the maser cannons to strike a hostile craft that far away. Plenty of time for ships that small and nimble to move clear.

But he knew what he had to do.

The chamber was filling nicely; several delegates had already arrived, and were now chatting amongst themselves, looking decidedly bored. Echo09;, a semi-sentient AI, was established in the main array loop of the asteroid control systems, and was happily monitoring all delegates, broadcasting the meeting on an encrypted narrow beam transmission directed at Cruithne.

Echo09; initiated a joyful chime, and began in a clear (yet synthesised) voice, “ladies, gentlemen and neither, I am here to provide for you until the Consortium delegates arrive. Ask and you shall receive, as thus.”

There was a faint whine of heavy-duty capacitors discharging, accompanied by a flash of blue light. A lump of fresh apples had been deposited in the centre of the chamber.

“Please help yourself,” the AI continued.” But bear in mind that I will not replicate mechanical components of any kind.”

There was another chime.

“Oh,” it added in mock playfulness, “but I don’t mind replicating Shakespeare. Just ask.”

Casey raises an eyebrow, unimpressed and wary of their declared enemies. She surveys the pile of apples and reaches out, grabbing one. She turns it over in her hand, half expecting it to spurt venom or something ridiculous. Xanthalian diplomats are known for their pacifism and tolerance, but they are not stupid. Casey Resthor accepted this assignment fully aware of the risk involved. Still, she doesn't intend to die here. If it turns out she has no choice though, she takes some comfort in knowing that her husband and child will be well taken care of by the Xanthalian government. She smiles to herself and bites into the apple, recalling her diplomatic training. When you are served food, remember: you will always eat, and it will always be delicious. She rolls her eyes as the sweet juice of the fruit dribbles down her tongue. Death, doom and gloom. That's no attitude for a representative of the Socialist Republic.

Garlash looked around, he stood at ease but watching all around him. This is not right at all, not right at all he thought to himself.

"Echo09, Why are the Consortium delegates not here already, shorly they would know that its polite to be here to welcome the guest they seemed eager to get here?. Also Echo09 how meny people are apon this station, i do hope that this station is not run by a machine shorely" Garlash said outload, "since at the moment i feel we're walking into some sort of trap...call me Paranoid if you will, the Colonial Federal Armed forces does that to you you know."

Gustav entered the room at that moment, looking around nervously. He was of course technically qualified for such an assignment, but he had not been expecting it. He wondered if he had arrived a little late - there were quite a few delegates already. He looked around at the assembled sentients - furs, scales, and all. He didn't find it repulsive, but it was the first time he had really seen a non-human sentient in the flesh, so to speak. He strode over to one of the tables and seized an apple, and remarked to no one in particular, "Well... now what?"

Though an ESUS member Tappee had distanced its self from the alliance long ago, not on any moral ground, its just that Tappee had much more pressing matters to deal with. With its terrorist problem and the war against the 4th Imperium Tappee could simply not be bothered with the political turmoil that swirled within inner sanctum of ESUS. However, with the rise of this ‘Consortium’ had caused the government of Tappee to now pay a bit more attention ESUS’s problem.

As a result Jade had assembled her senior staff to go over the situation, and decided best how to proceed, they had started by watching the ‘Voice’ broadcast.

“So what do we know about this Consortium?” asked Jade as the lights came on.

“Not much.” was the answer that she got back.

A bit of a frown came over Jades face, “Not much, or nothing at all.?” She asked again.

General William was the first to answer “Nothing, to be honest. They seem to have come out of now where.”

In truth Jade didn’t like being in this type of situation, she was flying in the dark, and that is one place that no government liked to be in, before she could decide how to proceed she needed to have a better overview pf what was going on.

“Is there any validity to their statement?”

“Given of the reputation of certain ESUS members it is possible.” Said Harold Armstrong Tappee’s foreign minister. “However, this ‘Voice’ has not provided any information that would back his claim. For all we know he using the reputation of certain members to his advantage and further his goals.”

General William was quick to interrupt, “One simply does not make both these type of accusations and threats to an alliance the size of ESUS unless you have the force to back you up. There may be more going here then what we know.” He looked around at all the others. “Besides, even if what they do say is true do you think that they would really want to sit down and talk about it? If Tappee had been attacked, me personally, I would want nothing short of revenge. I would ask my enemies to sit down and talk.”

Jade nodded in agreement, she had considered that possibility as well, the language used not suggest that they were dealing with someone that wanted peace. In her opinion these talk were nothing more then a stall or diversionary tactic, but to what end. “They had mentioned in their statement that they wanted access the ESUS trade lines, where do we stand with that issue.

Sandy Crisrtow, Tappee Finance minister was the one that stepped to the plate with this question. “To be honest we do most through the Orders ship lines not ESUS. Also with the war against the 4th Imperium all convoys have a full military escort.”

“We are at full military mobilization at the moment” add General William “We have been preparing for a counter offensive from the 4th Imperium for months now. Our forces are dug in and fortified for a imminent attack. Not mention that fact that there is a number of Order fleets operating within Tappee Space. If Tappee was attacked by the Consortium then that would draw in both ESUS as well as the Order.”

For a moment Jade sat in silence before she glanced over Harold “I want you to send someone to this conference. However, I want you to make sure that whoever you send is well… expendable.” There seemed to general consensus among her staff that however these people were, peace really wasn’t their object. But if there was a chance to bring about a peaceful resolution to this conflict then she would have to take it. “This meeting in taking place in our own backyard people, so lets not drop the ball on this.”

With that the meeting was over, and everyone dispersed heading off to do their assigned tasks. Jade got up from her desk and walked over to the window, there was something about this whole situation that she found troubling. She often wondering if being part of a big alliance was worth the trouble often associated with it. Allied forces were making progress against the 4th Imperium, but all that would come to end if they were forced to fight a new foe. In truth she wanted nothing more then to wash her hands of the entire situation, but that was not how the political game was play.

Several hours later a lone fighter craft made its final approach to the asteroid that had been assigned as the meeting. After a few brief moments Jen Frenoas made her way into the main meeting chamber. She had yet to take off her pressurization suit, formal wear had never been one of Tappee’s strong points, plus in was standard operating procedure given the situation. There were others out there that might use this meeting to their advantage.

Glancing over the room she could see that several other ESUS delegates had already arrived. She couldn’t help but wonder how long until the meeting would start.

Remember... offensive... We don't want them getting above themselves...

He smiled. He raised his eyebrows slightly, and then spoke to the AI construct.

"Ah, the Consortium have not yet arrived? One would've thought that they at least had the courtesy to arrive before us, considering they gave us this location. I think that this little farce is all but played out. Either you are horribly inexperienced in diplomacy, or planning some kind of 'object lesson', you idiotic piece of rubbish

.....Or, that's what he would've said, had he been a plainer man. As he was a diplomat, he reached out, took an apple, smiled graciously, and mumbled a few greetings and thanks to the AI. His smile never broke, although his nerves were running dangerously high...

Apples aren't exactly my kind of thing ... but meh. Eats is eats, and no poision we can make has killed me yet, let alone something this consortium would be capable of.

Drey waved mockingly to the Ai construct and siezed an apple from the bowl, before throwing it into the air and catching the fruit firmly between his teeth. with a deft flick of the claw and a blur of movement, one apple became seven pieces and seven pieces became seemingly eaten.

With that, drey returned to his seat, closed his eyes and began to play perhaps one of the Xenonian favourite games, "Supreme Commander, Advanced edition", uploading the 3d interface into his mind with the neuralink. As he did this, he adressed the other ESUS diplomats and the Ai.

"Lo guys. Got to wonder what we could have achieved without this little sidetrack of an expedition, eh?"

The damned Humans were still overpowered with their supply units.

"Yup. I mean, seriously. How long are we going to have to wait here? This is unprecendented, rude, and rather annoying. You would think this "Consortium" would possess the simple ability to meet us on time..."

As he spoke, he began using his 'mind-link', a device which was much more primitive than most others of its kind, but allows transmitting of orders, and basic information, even so, it was expensive.

He sent order back to the ship, readying it for combat, the small, nearly unnoticeable changes that would ready it for attack. He had his instructions. He would follow them, or die.

He frowned. His instincts told him to get out, and get out fast. Of course, his instincts generally led him wrong, but they had been waiting for far too long, what would they gain by making them wait? He wished he knew...

Jen tighten her grip on her helmet for her pressure suit, there was something not right about this entire situation. For the look on all the face of the other diplomats, they were feeling the same way. “I don’t know about the rest you, but if things don’t change real soon, then I’m leaving. There are better things that my government can be doing then waiting around here for our host not to show up.”

Casey nods in agreement. She would have been perfectly happy leaving the moment she arrived. Still, she was sent here for a reason. If she leaves and misses an opportunity to reach an agreement with the Consortium, or at least get some information about it, her credibility as an ambassador will evaporate, and probably her job with it. No, she will stay until she can absolutely wait no longer. She will stay until even the hardest-headed manager back home will realize that there was no point in her staying longer, and even then she will not leave unless her government explicitly authorizes it. She has to. It is her duty.

"Your Excellency, the time has come to act on the Consortiums proposal." Chosui, chief aide to the leader of the religious/bureaucratic caste said as he entered his enclave. The room, deep within the icy core of Pluto, lit only by candlelight and thick with the scent of incense, was the centre of Plutos leadership, since the head of the caste had siezed the throne. The convoluted political climate was all but gone this far removed from activity, however. This incursion of it was most unwelcome.

"If you would simply sign this, I can arrange the rest, your excellency." He offered a pen, and a document crammed with miniscule print that would be virtually impossible to read with the naked eye. Firmly taking these, the strength of his grip a bare hint at his displeasure at being disturbed, the Lao-Tzu quickly sketched his signature onto the document. With a quick wave of the hand, he dismissed the aide.


"How long do I have to prepare for the meeting?" The delegate, named Keizan, asked Chorui, who had made his way straight to these quarters as soon as the Lao-Tzu signed the forms. These homes were significantly closer to the surface, and even closer to the docking bay facilities, to allow diplomats to be dispatched quickly, without several hours journey to an available vessel. Keizans home, such as it was, was a plain affair, simply decorated, thick red carpet seperating Keizans bare feet from the deeply cold concrete flooring below. Hung on the walls were portraits of other members of his family, their size varying with their prominence on the wall. As with the Lao-Tzu's chamber, the smell of incense pervaded the air, but it was altogether more subtle here. For its location, Keizans home presented a feeling of warmth.

"I'm afraid you will be required to leave immediately. ISIS will be on hand to provide information, however remember that with the recent troubles, and her decision to remain neutral in the whole affair means that her time is limited. I would advise you to make whatever preparations you can during the flight."

Nodding, though clearly somewhat frustrated at being simply dumped with important talks with little time to prepare anything, he bowed to Chorui, who strode off, feet slapping off of the concrete floor of the hall.

"ISIS, what do you know about the Consortium?"

I'm afraid, emmisary, that I know as much as you do. They've been exceptionally difficult to trace, which is hardly suprising. I believe that my role in your talks will simply be to keep you aware of all that they talk about. Given their... speed in calling these talks and the obvious time they've taken to research us, a clear post in their argument might simply be to assault you with names, dates and figures that you could not be expected, reasonably, to know. I, however, do.

"A pity. I will not take your time any longer, and will consult you once I have reached my destination."

As you wish.

Only a short time later, Keizan was beginning the final approach to the destination point, and old asteroid facility. It was all very quiet, but that was to be expected. He couldn't think of a single reason a group such as the Consortium would seek to draw attention to themselves. Since ISIS hadn't been able to contact him as he travelled to the destination, he had hoped that he would be messaged shortly after coming out of hyperspace, something that did not occur. It looked like he would be flying blind, as it were. Slipping into a docking bay, he landed the ship, docking legs extending out, steam venting out as the legs took the strain of the small, 25 metre long vessel. Attaching one of the Personal Gravity Generators, a small belt-like device with a cube shaped bulge that protruded on the right hand side, that came standard to all extra-national excursions, and strolling down the entry ramp into the facility. Noticing several other, similar vessels, which he presumed to be from other delegates, he ventured forward. There was no welcoming party, which could only mean he had to make his own way to the conferance. Rude, perhaps, but not unique. Stretching out to full height briefly, raising his arms above his head, which was already roughly fourteen feet off of the ground, and yawning, deeply, he walked off, spidery legs providing a lengthy gait, in search of the conferance. He found it, fairly quickly, and made his presence known.

"Greetings to you all." he began, bowing respectfully, but not overly deeply. "I am here to represent the religious caste in these talks.... though they do not appear to be taking place. Am I late?"



Again outside the facility, however, another, almost identical ship appeared. To those who knew about Jordaxian vessels, it would visibly bear the markings of a warrior caste vessel. It followed the same course, landed closely to the religious vessel, and another diplomat stepped out. She had been sent to keep tabs on the Religious caste at the talks, and to ensure that they did not attempt to represent the warrior caste. Like Keizan, she decided not to wait for an escort, and made her own way to the conference room. Arriving only a few minutes after Keizan had, she arrived in much the same way, bowing. However, seeing no obvious members of the consortium to identify herself to, she simply proceeded into the conferance hall, to wait for discussions to commence. Only her deep red robes, as opposed to Keizans regal purple robes, shown her as a member of the warrior caste.

OOC: Well, I'm going to be a total lamer, and post a bump. Cmon Vayaria, we need activityzors!

OOC: None of us can reply until you do, Vayaria. Cmon, kill the diplomats already! I'm being forced to double-post in order to try and get your attention!

OOC: I am withdrawing from this thread due to inactivity. All my IC posts and post segments on and directly related to this RP are hereby formally withdrawn.