NationStates Jolt Archive

Port Admiral Allan Thames was of slightly less than average height, and
slightly more than average girth. All in all, he liked his creature comforts,
and if that caused him occasional bouts of depression, so be it. His CI naval
uniform was the darkest black, expertly tailored (though not well enough to hide
a slight paunch) and heavy with silver braid. It was this last that he toyed
with while polishing off mid afternoon tea, pondering the wholly undignified
orders he had received from Director Zheng.

Thames was accustomed to the finer things in life. The heir to an absurdly
wealthy family among absurdly wealthy families, he had lived a largely charmed
life, playing the game of corporate politics with a passion and a skill that
only a select few could ever cultivate. He had leapt wholeheartedly at the
chance to head the new CI Navy.

Oops. He gave a wry smile as he crunched the last butter cookie, and
glanced around the cavernous command deck of Sky One. Once again, imperial
ambition is throttled by logistics.

To establish Conquest Incorporated and its four great subsidiaries as the
harbingers of Hyper-Capitalism, it needed a viable interstellar navy. For a
viable interstellar navy, it of course needed warships. And for warships… one
needed two things, neither of which Conquest Inc. sported in any appreciable
way.

The first was substantial space-based industry. The fact that a war had been
fought against the EOC for the nominal purpose of investing in interstellar
operations suggested that those operations had been heretofore neglected. And
they had been. Seemingly beyond reason. So it was that Thames found himself a
Port Admiral without a port. Sky One, the prodigious battlestation could provide
for low orbit security, and in spades. A two-and-a-half-mile-in-diameter orbital
fortress could engage small fleets with hope of victory, but it could not
provide the facilities to build a navy.

Even the name is frustrating. You’d think a Sky One would suggest a Sky Two, but
of course not. That would make my job too fulfilling.

What CI did have was lift capacity, and several commandeered merchantmen were
busily adding a second star to the night sky in the form of the sprawling Port
Hastings. This would easily alleviate the crunch for dockyards, but would be
another six months in the making, and would have no resources with which to
craft titanic weapons of war.

Hence the orders.

Thames cleared his throat and waved a small disc at a passing com officer.
“Diego. Would you pipe that out, please?” The communications specialist looked
quizzically at his commanding officer. “To who, sir?”

The Port Admiral snorted. “To everyone. We’re reinventing the cold-call.” He
turned away from the baffled ensign. It rankled a bit to appeal to passing
merchants for the necessary ores, but he, and CI, needed ships to accomplish the
enormous feats of mercantilism that the Director had planned.


Ah, ah. Hyper-Capitalism. It’s important to adhere to the official lingo, eh,
Allan?

{Open Transmission}
{TRANSMISSION ENCRYPTION: None}
{FROM: Port Admiral Thames, of Conquest Incorporated}
{TO: Merchants, Commercial Empires, etc.}
{SUBJECT: Resource Acquisition}

Conquest Incorporated greets you in the name of peaceful, productive
trade.

A substantial increase in orbital production and interstellar expansion is
anticipated by the policy makers here at Conquest. It has, therefore, become
necessary to release a public contract for the required resources. Specific ores
in significant quantities will be required for the foreseeable future – more
welcome still would be the sale of existing mining facilities or claims in
proximity to significant deposits of industrial ore.

Payment to be negotiated on a contractual basis, but potentially in cash,
manufactured goods or services of… diverse natures.

I have been authorized to conduct trade negotiations on my own authority.

Coordinates to follow.

Good day.

{Close Transmission}

To: Port Admiral Thames, of Conquest Incorporated
From: Interested Party

We would be interested in negotiating a deal, as we have a surplus of metallic compound and elements that you may be interested. If you could reply promptly, with a location and time for a meeting, we may be able to fill your needs.

Words have power. The message was routed through 38 separate satellites and platform based pickups, a dozen offices and for no good reason a wi fi enabled hot dog stand before it hit the virtually greased main ZMI datasphere communication lines , the message did an insane little jig around the odd little section of Neo Europe and was finally flagged as urgent by one of the mail handling agents and hit its first sentient. The sentient was the AI drone agents ZMI postal service overseer who spent the next 12 microseconds dithering over where to send it in the nebulous byzantine organisation of the company and had a “virtual” psychological brake down when its integral monitors showed instability. It took a further 29 microseconds for the Overseer to be replaced while it was led away by a virtual representative of the AI communes equivalent of a straight jacket carrying bunch of men with a nice van with rubber walls. It was only then that the message hit the megacities outskirts, bouncing from one handling centre to another as it was flagged, counter flagged, copied, archived and in one instance printed out and used to clean up some spilled organic yoghurt. Finally it hit the organic eyes of one Cecil Jervis a grade 3 Department of foreign affairs client support section communications clerk, he while searching through his drawers for a paperclip blearily stared at the message and routed it to an active negotiator/evaluator officer.


The Ziggurat, Zone One, Sector One , Megacity One, Earth
The offices walls were black, flecked with braking lines of white. Several areas of it showed delicately spinning and remarkably detailed diagrams representing demographics, while one showed a constant wall of active data streams showing everything from a blast ball match to an erupting volcano, steady waves of refugees, there faces streaked with ash and tears seemingly feeding into the open top of a soft drinks bottle showing in the stream below it. On the synth marble floor a single yellow bodied janitorial bot slowly silently sucked up dust, its glaring and in places stained and scuffed skin the only brake in the rooms almost zen like mix of white and black furnishings. A rug that looked remarkably like it had been fashioned from a polar bear lay in front of a hovering crystal slab that served as a side table. A single disused smart flimsy decorated one corner of the slab, upon its surface the eternal holding pattern of “low battery”, requesting to be shaken to recharge its displayed, slowly fading with each cycle. Then there was the desk. The desk dominated the room, a solid black affair of curving smooth black plastic and tastefully placed wooden inlays. The desks surface was sparsely populated l save for the silver dove inscribed with the name “Jonas Carlson” which acted as a weight on a mass of flimsies in the in tray that seemingly rose directly from the desks slick smart surface it seemed almost desert like. Next came the man, grey eyes, brown hair shot with snow cropped close to hide its thinning. He wore the white suit of the Department of Foreign affairs, its left cuff unbeknownst to him showing a slight stain where he had accidentally dipped it in salsa at lunch. Then the noise, the steady backround noise of air movement from the air vents, the slight rumble of a service drone slamming through a shaft behind one of the smooth walls, and the smooth rolling tones of jazz pouring from seemingly every flat surface. The window to the sides showed an unremarkable view of an endless block of expensive housing modules, the vast cityscape behind it only glimpsed at through slits in their personalised frontages, balconies and gardens. Occasionally a cloud would drift sedately between the housing and the window, behind him however a single vast windows showed the seemingly endless cornubation of Megacity One, its towering convoluted masses of structures looking almost like an agitated sea, broken only by the massive shining chrome like masses of sector walls all wreathed in a never ending clamour of advertisements. The sky was covered in a scattering of light cloud, and tinged purple from a sunset, barely visible under a halo of projected adds which stretched all the way up to the huge orbital bill boards.

Huge plodding airborne cargo hauliers sedately moved in streams while darting air cars whirled in patterns only the effects of a thousand traffic control agents could create but only a sentient could appreciate. Occasionally the massive form of a heavy cargo maglev could be seen, its segmented utilitarian form covered with corporate logos. If one looked closely one could make out the hundreds of tiered avenues that linked the seemingly insane constructions and the tiny figures and ground cars making their way along them.

The individual made a decision, the message was forwarded.


The Ziggurat , Zone One, Sector Three , Megacity One, Earth

Minister of Foreign affairs Peter Hule sat in the depths of a restaurant, a pleasant fake Greek temple in ruins half engulfed in vines, circular dark synth wood tables dotted around the lush surrounds while the sounds of splashing water from the back wall could be heard emanating from a water feature in the shape of a rather nubile venus that fell the full huge height of the vast stain glass roofed room. It was one of thirty or so restaurants in the heart of the Ziggurat, helping to feed the tens of thousands of bureaucrats and government officials. Peter would have before he was a minister have taken the transit line out of the ziggurats confines down to the sea front, probably he thought reminiscing, to one of the small café’s that dotted one of the cities piers or promenades in the old sector.

These days he would be flown directly to his chosen restaurant by armoured air car a flashing escort of M1PD troopers on skimmers rolling the traffic out of the way. It was not exactly what Hule thought of as a relaxing repast, so he more and more found himself eating with his staff within the precincts of the Ziggurat itself. He had found the restaurants here on the outer tier to be a very pleasant surprise.

Looking up from his work and at this point tepid coffee accented by a few remaining pieces of salad on his plate he saw the table waiter drone begin to quietly clean the table. Its swish matt black form delicately loading plates into its back he spent a moment starring at it without really thinking about anything at all. He then glanced back down and sighed while picking up his silver smart stylus and once more returning to his work, insubstantial smart dust screens slowly moving about the table seemingly playing an intricate game of dodge the waiter drone while he finished the letter.

Hule had always preferred to do his own writing, it was a pleasure he said that he would not give up to some jumped up drone or secretary, though in actual fact his secretary Roslin Price was a pleasant woman in her mid fifties who was god mother to one of Hules children. However at this point he was regretting his life long statements as he contemplated the long list of diplomatic communiqués he had in front of him.

On Hules flimsy words and data danced to his stylus while the smart screens showing demographics and possible diplomatic shifts flickered as he used his implant to alter their feeds or occasionally shut them down or open a new one. Far away a re-entry horn sounded in one of the industrial zones, echoing across the hum of the megacity as a freighter started its landing run.


+++++
To: Port Admiral Thames, of Conquest Incorporated
From: Peter Hule, Minister Foreign Affairs, The Incorporated State of ZMI

Greetings in Profit and Peace

ZMI finds that we have a wide array of resources presently available for the valued customer in sol, an emissary can be dispatched to engage in negations or bidding for contracts at your request.

+++++

Paperwork.

Long after paper had ceased to be used for anything other than ceremonial documents and coupon booklets, the word 'paperwork' was still synonymous with any number of malodorous clerical duties that sustained empires, corporations and institutions from Sol to... wherever.

"Shit." One of the aforementioned ceremonial documents had just given Port Admiral Thames a paper cut. As he cast about for a tissue, his intercom gave a rasping buzz. An inarticulate, questioning growl was its response.

A moment of silence. Jobs were some of the least important things that individuals had lost for irritating an executive, military or civilian. Ensign Diego Peters wasn't an ensign for nothing, though, and he had a feeling that Thames would be more upset to miss the response to his call than to be interrupted. "Sir, this is Ensign Peters from the communications pit on the command deck - you ordered me to forward any replies to your communiqué. We've been contacted by an 'interested party.'"

"Ah, Diego." A bandaid did wonderful things for irascibility. "Yes, do forward it. I will draft a reply forthwith." "Very good, sir."

The response was cryptic and short - a good sign. If they were rich enough to be brusque, they would surely have appreciable resources.

Another beep. "What?"

"Another response, sir. From ZMI, as well." Thames' eyebrows rose. Not really within CI's sphere of influence (until now), he had a general idea of ZMI's makeup - a megacorp at least vaguely like his current employer. Of the first message's writers, he had no idea.

"Alright, Diego. I've got it."

{Open Transmission}
{TRANSMISSION ENCRYPTION: None}
{FROM: Port Admiral Thames, of Conquest Incorporated}
{TO: 'Interested Party'}
{SUBJECT: Resource Acquisition}

We look forward to a mutually beneficial exchange of wealth.

A business meeting will be held aboard our primary orbital construct, if that is sufficiently agreeable. Low Earth Orbit, stationary over the incorporated territories of Conquest Inc, universal transponder Sky One. Productive discussion as to quantity and quality of and payment for the desired ores will be the subject.

We hope to see you at your earliest convenience.

{Close Transmission}
---------
{Closed Transmission}
{TRANSMISSION ENCRYPTION: Corporate Standard}
{FROM: Port Admiral Thames, of Conquest Incorporated}
{TO: ZMI}
{SUBJECT: Resource Acquisition}

The stars are the warmer for the presence of like-minded capitalists. Business is to be conducted on our primary station, in Low Earth Orbit, stationary over the incorporated territories of Conquest Inc, universal transponder Sky One.

We appreciate your business, and hope to see a representative from ZMI at the earliest possibility.

{Close Transmission}

{Open Transmission}
{TRANSMISSION ENCRYPTION: None}
{FROM: Port Admiral Thames, of Conquest Incorporated}
{TO: Merchants, Commercial Empires, etc.}
{SUBJECT: Resource Acquisition}

Conquest Incorporated greets you in the name of peaceful, productive
trade.

A substantial increase in orbital production and interstellar expansion is
anticipated by the policy makers here at Conquest. It has, therefore, become
necessary to release a public contract for the required resources. Specific ores
in significant quantities will be required for the foreseeable future – more
welcome still would be the sale of existing mining facilities or claims in
proximity to significant deposits of industrial ore.

Payment to be negotiated on a contractual basis, but potentially in cash,
manufactured goods or services of… diverse natures.

I have been authorized to conduct trade negotiations on my own authority.

Coordinates to follow.

Good day.

{Close Transmission}

The transmission was caught, somewhere near the edge of the galaxy some time after it had been originally transmitted. It was routed through the communications grid of the Lagpunkt and then eventually several members of the Vrangain Guard looked over the mesage and then of course eventually onto Vodalus himself. It was then passed back to the Guild of Merchants , with the understanding that they would be allowed to reply.

It was then that the Guild of Merchants put someone onto it.

**********Open Transmission*********

To:Port Admiral Thames, of Conquest Incorporated
From: Tybalt, of The Guild of Merchants
RE:Resource Acquisition

Greeting Admiral Thames. I have been directed by the Guild of Engineers at the discretion of The Autarch.............to open communications in regards to your..................acquisitional needs.

I would be most pleased.........to meet with you and to discuss, your needs, and the manner that the Merchants Guild can met them.

I await your reply.

********Close Transmission*********

snip

Shortly after the message was sent out, a mid-sized ship appeared. The ship approached the indicated meeting point.
When they received the inevitable challenge, the ship replied with.

"We are here to discuss a trade deal, we have been invited by one Port Admiral Allan Thames."

Thames had reestablished himself on his throne-like command chair deep in the bowels of Sky One. The approaching task of negotiating business critical to the long-term existence of his employing corporate edifice should not find him in a less impressive location than this.

The Communications pit had approved the unknown ship's docking request automatically - a horrifically lax security decision in the best of times, but ultimately justifiable given the potential rewards. Sky One's ability to blast any ship of that size into molecular-sized dust bunnies was also a reassuring factor.

The intercom embedded in the chair's right arm emitted a mellow tone, vastly preffereable to the irritating buzz of his cabin's intercom. Looking up, he could see Ensign Peters stand up and face him in the Communications pit a hundred feet away. He punched a button. "Yes, Diego? Another response?"

"Yes, sir. This time it's a 'Tybalt', of the Guild of Merchants."

"Excellent. The more the merrier. Give them the same coordinates as the last two, Diego." He punched the button again. After a moment, he spoke to nobody in particular: "And get someone down to one of the landing bays. We don't want to keep our mystery guests waiting."
---------
A third message winged itself back towards the Guild transmission source, wherever that might have been. Filled with the same pleasantries and information as the previous two, it presaged what would hopefully be productive dialogue.
---------
CI Client Services representative Harold Fleming stood passively, alone, in one of the many enormous flight decks that Sky One possessed. Very much the corporate creature, he had no discerning physical characteristics: brown eyes, brown hair, average height, average build. He stood near the executive elevator that would convey him and his guest(s) to the prepared conference room.

There was no waiting martial music or honor guard for the approaching vessel - Conquest Inc was a business, without regard for pomp and circumstance. And if anyone thought that security was inadequate because they hadn't seen an honor guard, their opinion would be corrected as the need arose.

Earth Orbit
Hulls, much like many others, some kilometres long, some nothing but multi megaton conglomerations of ferrous ingots tack welded together and dragged by a tug, thick layers of ceramic and advanced alloys, some on platforms or parts of Megacity three, parts of these hulls however were passive optic pick ups. Networked together this vast simple optic passive system saw things. Input was sorted, flagged and turned into data first by hardware and software then by human minds it was sorted into useful information , more human minds would turn it into policy, and a few more would turn it into effect.

The Standard Shuttle Class MkIII (http://www.deviantart.com/view/20904418/) (mod d) darted minnow like through orbital traffic, as it came within visual range of other craft advertisement projectors would dance trying to match the add to the vessel in question from some dry and probably woefully out of date database. The feat was probably pointless in virtually any other environment but Earth or Mars orbital space.

Philip Ascent was a cherubic man in his sixties, a spray salt and pepper hair still valiantly making a stand upon his hairline. A DOFA contact specialist he sat back in the large synth leather chair gently rolling a steadily shrinking ice cube around the bottom of his glass, the shuttles mini bar proving an interesting distraction on the short hop decent from L2 and Megacity threes ominous add covered bulk. In front of him lay the man supposedly his aide a white dofa suit illy draped over his bodies frame, fleet tactician Sebastian Taylor, a lithe thin almost raptor like man, bald with an almost beak like nose and two eyes that seemed to boil a man who had been re psyched to have virtually no moral compass, an utterly dangerous individual who Philip had strongly opposed being sent on this mission. Taylor however had pulled strings deep within whatever INT-SEC muckiety muck committee that was his sponsor, officially he was to provide expert analysis for Philip, in truth Philip knew it was just another INT-SEC power game, another way to get another INT-SEC personnel position created, another budget spinner with INT-SEC using Taylor as there poster boy. Taylor himself seemed unworried by the affair at hand taking only glances at the smart flimsies on the table in front of him. Not DOFA personnel with there deliberate minimal use of implants and a fleet tactician to boot the man probably had more wires in his head than the shuttles navicom. Philip gently put the glass down and tapped a brief dance across the control space above his left arm rest and the platform “Sky One” slowly appeared into view an ETA timer slowly clocking down. In the other row of seats in the small but luxurious mod D his real aids sat, James Wilson brown hair, half his age and in truth the nearest thing Philip had to a departmental protégé and Catherine Rogers, a young spry thing who was acting as his secretary her seat surrounded by dancing displays.


The shuttlecraft danced its pilots DNI at low ebb as she gently made the final gravity impeller “burn” the light around the shuttles drive visibly bending very slightly as it began heading for the designated docking facility. As it drew closer the add projector stuttered off, its last image that of an animated tuna dancing precariously around the rim of a can.

“This is ZMI diplomatic flight TCR-239A, requesting permission to start final approach”

Tybalt of the Merchant's Guild walked onto the bridge of the Voltaug Warship of Fleet Control Group K, flanked by a set of Constructs. Narem, of The Varnagian Guard stood as the Merchant entered and bowed slightly, smirking.

"All Hail The Autarch and His Varangain Guard." intoned Narem, Tybalt replied likewis in harsh buzzing tones.

"I have been given permission to meet with these aliens to see how they can be exploited..................for the benefit of The.........Autarch. Our destination co-ordinates have been transmitted to your Voltaug's Construct." Tybalt buzzed.

Narem nodded and resumed his seat, he leaned forward and nodded to the pilots "Let us get underway then."

Narem then turned back to Tybalt "FCG-E is closer to this destination than us?"

Tybalt buzzed in reply "Fleet Control Group E does not have a member of the Guild of Merchants with them."

Narem shrugged "Very well."

The Voltaug very shortly emitted an energey field that within minutes grew to encompass all 11 ships of the Fleet Control Group. With a flash, the group was gone and within minutes was deposited to within several thousand miles of the coordinates given by Admiral Thames.

The Dyan-XD Cruisers engaged spectral masking and stayed behind, as the Voltaug continued on to Sky One alone, the trip would take onle several minutes.

Once the Voltaug was within range of Sky One Narem hailed the station "This is Narem of the Varangian Guard, greetings from The Autarch. I have with me Tybalt of the Merchant's Guild here to meet with your Port Admiral Thames. Please indicate where on your station this meeting is to take place."

He leaned back lazily and awaited a reply.

Orbit

Marcel Lavallier floats in zero gravity, relaxed, taking a bit of alone time to think. He's got some tricky logistics problems to handle.

A ferret collective sifts datastreams, matching needs to wants, sacrificing matches to their demon gods for processor time.

The demons form their own cabal ecologies, propagating information until they reach a sentient. In this case, a white-haired man floating in a heavily modified Firefly transport, head full of ideas and machinery.

The Bukefalos (unoriginally named, but as far as Territory regs are concerned, registry designator is all that needs to be unique) powers up.

An androgynous voice - the ubiquitous Senkei, representative face of the Sphere's machine side - addresses a Sky One traffic control operator.

"Sky One, this is spaceship [b]Bukefalos[/i] requesting permission to approach and dock. Please relay to Port Admiral Thames; Citizen Marcel Lavallier, CEO of Specialized Structures Engineering requests a moment of the Port Admiral's time regarding the Admiral's public message."

The ship threads its way through orbital space in a leisurely manner.

The command deck resembled, for lack of a less obvious metaphor, a beehive. Naval ratings dashed too and fro in the very heart of the titanic bulwark of Sky One. Some of it concerned issuing docking approvals for incoming ships - both those of prospective business partners and the usual stream of supply ships, military transports and refuse disposal units that catered to a star fortress of that size. Other factors were the preparation for what could easily be the most important business meeting since the end of the war. Reference data had to be found, catalogued, correlated, lost, found again, and slashed down to a half-page summary that Port Admiral Thames could read on the way to the conference room he had selected for the meetings.

He strode past the traffic-control pit, and passed close enough to hear a litany of communiqués. "Flight TCR-239A, permission granted. Nav beacon activated - set your course for flight bay Beta-23..." "Certainly, Mr. Narem. Docking bay Beta-5..." "The Admiral would be more than happy to meet with Citizen Lavallier. Please direct your course to docking bay Beta-7..."

He stepped into one of the deck's executive elevators and suddenly all was silent. He reflected as he fell towards the business levels.

The breathtaking affluence of the room he had chosen was a good face to present. The small waterfall along the rear wall and the Japanese rock garden set slightly forward from that were breathtakingly wasteful and atrociously expensive. They were, after all, in space.

Another factor was the series of hidden niches and side doors that provided instant access to security. Not that they were all filled or would be used, but were a distasteful altercation to occur, it would be dealt with for the security of the Admiral as well as the more placid of the coming merchants - whoever those turned out to be.

With a gentle tone, the elevator deposited him in conference room thirteen, and he selected the chair at the head of the table. It had not been an easy decision to deal with the arriving businessmen together. Alone, it would have been a simpler thing to discern who would provide the most benefit at the least cost, and politely dismiss the others. But that position was flawed for two reasons. First, there was no reason that only one of the suppliers would be hired. CI's coming thirst for raw materials would be nearly insatiable. Steady streams of raw ore or - vastly better still - the location of an unclaimed (or lightly defended) moon or asteroid belt would be required merely to scrape the surface of the industrial demand required to construct and maintain a fleet.

As he sat in thought, the various merchants and executives were being met in their landing bays by CICS reps much like the nondescript Mr. Hamilton. These would be relayed, sans inappropriate amounts of bodyguards of course, to the room in which he sat, and he would secure the vital resources he sought.

And take a nice, fat bonus for his troubles.

Once the Voltaug received it's docking orders, it just sat there. Several minutes later the crew at the docking station were blinded by a flash, and when their eyes had adjusted, a pair of figures stood before them. One of them appeared to be a humanoid standing about 6' in height. It's species was impossible to determine due to it's heavy plated armour that was interlocked and hermetically sealed, it was made from an iridescent metal, over the armour is a hooded cloak. The face is humanoid,but is part of the armour, the smile is set and frozen in place, and the eyeholes are covered with opaque white glass, at the figures throat ,poking from beneath the cowl of it's cloak is a pair of speakers, from which it's voice buzzes mechanically and without intonation.

"Greetings, I am Tybalt of the Guild of Merchants.........I am here to meet with.......Admiral.........Thames." the periods indicating audible clicks that interrupt the aliens speech, it pauses and motions to the rather large humanoid standing slightly behind it "This is Narem...........of the Varangian Guard........He.........must accompany me. All Hail The Autarch and His Varangian Guard."

Narem bows and smirks as he is introduced. He is large, well over 8' tall and 4' broad, he is dressed like a 17th century highway man, with tall riding boots and a long riding coat, he carries a rather impressive broadsword. His visible skin is tatooed with blue and green scales and his eyes are a glittering blue, except that his whites are blue, and his irises and pupils are white, they cast a powerful blue beam over whatever he is looking at, like blue headlights.

Narem grins at the suprised crew and booms in an oddly resonant voice "Well then! Lead on!"

They then follow the crew to the meeting room, where Admiral Thames awaits.

snip
A large man, with what could be characterized as a massive nordic throwback, but obviously wasn't appeared, flanked by a small, mousy person and a stunning woman.
They waited for a excort to take them to the person in charge of the meeting.

oocness: Various assumptions made, courtesy of being later than others. Hope it's not all that impolite/ wrong.

Geraud Dubois-Nakamura didn't exactly look like the average business person, courtesy of a personal liking for non-organic materials coincidentally resulting in noticeably increasing his overall weight.

Of course, he wasn't a violent person, nor was he a particularly martial one. As far as his psyche was concerned, Geraud was all about money and the logistics necessary to acquire it. He merely liked looking a little less... smooth, a little more like that old and yet outdated species of men commonly denoted a 'warrior'. That his look was deceiving in more than one sense--Not only wasn't he thinking the way his look indicated, but he was also considerably incapable of acting in such a way--had occasionally proven to be a nuisance, as people tended to missjudge him on a regular basis, but he still liked the look, and thus kept his body as it was.

His odd look aside, Geraud was a considerably capable businessman, though. Most importantly, he lacked the geopolitical ratio that wouldn't allow the primary organisations within DA to actually consider potentially risky endeavours with Ardans nations--Specifically, providing them with the raw materials necessary to produce guns, be they used by infantry or mounted on spaceships--which enabled him, as a representative of his fairly medium-sized corporation, to eventually choose to participate in the 'Business' about to happen on Sky One. Given the initial message by Conquest Inc, he supposed that there wouldn't be much competition, anyway... They'd just take everything offered. Thus, sending an initial, affirmative reply hadn't been an issue. It had just been done, more-or-less immediately.

The shuttle--A fairly small, in fact rather tiny, one-person-plus-notes thing--was harmless, having no problems getting through the inevitable questioning, eventually docking, followed by Gerard leaving it, meeting--And regardless of its gender flirting with--the local CICS rep and eventually making his way towards the room Port Admiral Thames was staying, waiting for, well, certainly not only him.

Docking Bay

The ship is well-used and in good repair, generations of technology evident in sensor gear and thrusters and all the many visible parts of a working starship. The hull, set to white, nose-art a simple green silhouette of a mounted warrior on a rearing horse, the style suggesting ancient pottery.

The man, well used and in good repair as well, moving briskly with an athlete's controlled power, deep seams on his face, beak nose, tanned, white and silver hair. He wears stark black and white; neatly pressed pants accentuating legs, frilly white shirt under black-on-black embroidered vest, jacket held in a crooked finger over his shoulder; jacket off, showing a leather and silver shoulder rig, pistol and knife, businesslike.

Well used, in good repair.

"Marcel Lavallier of Specialized Structures Engineering, by appointment to the Port Admiral." A slightly theatric bow at that, from the hip. "Just myself and Bukefalos, and he'll take care of himself." He puts the jacket on, adjusting tie and collar just so.

Meanwhile, the ship hashes out the particulars of being docked at Sky One; power, consumables, services; the ship speaking with Senkei's infinitely patient voice.

Far above several platforms exotic radiation detection arrays caught a spray from the navigators flotilla who’s somewhat unexpected appearance had caught the attention of a dozen passive big arrays. Milliseconds later high definition passive control had tasked several sub constellations to its monitoring. This was logged and sent to there platforms barely sentient but fast AI, then on to the constellation overwatch defence AI and its human controller. It then spent several seconds analysing it and forwarding it not only up its chain of command but directly to a dozen think tanks and sub departments. The appearance was to say the least baffling, a full military deployment to cover a simple trade negotiation. To put it simply it had sparked curiosity. While all manner of decoys or low signature vessels may work in many less densely inhabited places this was near earth orbit filled with so many high energy active scanning devices that most ARAD missiles had to be severely recalibrated to operate in it. A single platform was selected and a canister triggered. While knowing the externas of a ship and its outputs was all well and good this had opened an opportunity.

The sphere was barely 3 millimetres in diameter. It’s surface was cooled to universal background. It gave of no radiation, and it was slowly going to pass within 23 kilometres of the flotilla. It’s surface was nothing but slag however its core was an advanced timed chemical isotope soup mix.

When it reached its closest approach the soup was timed to react, a tiny flash of intense radiation would vaporise the object. First however the radiation would pass through the “slag” this would result in a mix of exotic faster than light radiation which would reach out, hopefully giving a snapshot of the target area. Like a flash bulb only with X ray the effect however still needed to be captured and for that matter developed. The vast constellations of orbitals, platforms, and satellites would see to that.


The shuttles wedge like black and white form gently slid itself into the bay, just before it entering it purged a tiny portion of its coolant in a white puff, its heat sink which had been glowing faintly fading down into the ivory white of the majority of the rest of the hull as the drive unit folded away. The shuttle hovered in silence to its destination before neatly deploying its almost sucker like landing struts. Waiting for a moment to check if conditions were secured the hatch hissed open, the simple mechanical systems, twin tiny hydraulic rams gleaming as they pushed it open.

Philips smile seemed to exit the craft before he did, his almost jolly figure in its snow white DOFA suit followed by the tight lips and starring eyes of Taylor, his spindly form moving unnaturally smoothly. Just before they turned to there guide they glanced into the corners of each others eyes, the heavily encrypted com lasers invisible to the naked eye dancing out.



The collective confirm it Philip the vessels identifying themselves as carrying “Tybalt” used a transmat of some kind to there allocated position. This is showboating and dangerous, this is a well equipped battlestation if autonomous countermeasures had acted against the translocation they could be no more than a multidimensional smear. Even a pulsing star drive could do it damage.

Never liked those damn things, possibility of feudal culture, I never like having guilds about too damn wrapped up in there codes to deal like business men. And outie. Too damn outie.

Confirmed galactic rim location. The others are known elements on record this “Tybalt” is an unkown and from there actions I cannot find sufficient basis to start analysing them.

What in blazes are they trying to do in this far? They can’t possibly think they can match bulk haulage prices at that distance. Oh and Sebastion ..for gods sake smile you look like a bloody vulture.

Grr Philip ..Grr.




Philip prepared to extended his hand his official smile ahead of him as James and Catherine exited behind, both of them carrying two slim black suit cases, white ziggurat seals on there surface.

The Voltaug, left without it's masters cheerfully scanned anything and everything in sight, the Construct that controlled the ship was programmed to enjoy gathering information for no good reason other tha to gather it, catalog it and transmit the volumes of information back to the Lagpunkt.

The Construct 'blinks' as an unknown burst of radiation occurred somewhere in the vicinity of the Fleet Control Group, it however ignored it, simply catalogging the reading and transmitting it back dutifully.

The blue-flash-of-light-teleporter gizmo this Tybalt character used was extremely frustrating. That a foreign ship, a stranger, could drop crewmen directly onto the greatest - and only - space station in the universe that had 'CI' stamped on it was deeply, deeply disturbing. Shields were raised as soon as what had happened was surmised - any further jumping about would have to be done with the knowledge of Sky One control. Unless shields had nothing to do with the process. That was a scenario that left the entire Operations pit grinding its teeth.

The seemingly unabashed probing of Sky One by the ship Messrs. Tybalt and Narem had 'teleported' from was less disturbing than enormously irksome. By way of response, the station turned a half-dozen military-grade sensor systems on the vastly smaller vessel, lighting it up like a Christmas tree - and, possibly, blinding it - at least for the moment. If that much radiation didn't at least dampen the vessel's ability to function, whatever crew it had would stand a not insignificant chance of having nine-legged children sometime in the future. But these were secondary concerns. The primary concern was that of ore, and lots of it. Whether Tybalt and Co. were endearing themselves to the inhabitants of low earth orbit or not was unimportant, if they could deliver the goods.

This fact was not lost on the good Harold Fleming as he led Tybalt and his companion from the landing bay to an adjoining elevator, this one a local as there wasn't far to go. He did this sans chit-chat, of course. No reason to be overly friendly, considering.

The elevator slowed briefly after three floors as a host of active and passive sensors probed the metallic box's occupants for any alarmingly flashy weapons or explosives of any kind. Results were whisked away via thousands of feet of optic cable for a two or three minute perusal.

Finally, the suspiciously thick doors opened with the ageless ding of elevators everywhere. Fleming suppressed a scowl - Sky One's inter-departmental transportation had long been inconsistent with its "hey-look-you're-here" noises, elevator tones chief among them. He stepped into the tastefully wasteful conference room, and with a slight bow at the waist introduced the visitors. "These gentlemen are Tybalt of the Guild of Merchants and Narem of the Varangian Guard. With your leave, sir."

Thames nodded and Fleming left him alone with the two businessmen - or, businessbeings, possibly. Not in the traditional sense of the word, as one can only be so alone when surrounded by concealed corporate security teams, but in terms of conversation. He rose, performed a tiny bow significantly shallower than Fleming's had been, but respectful nonetheless.

"Please, be seated. We await only the other representatives, and then we will begin." Taking his own advice, he returned to his previous position, and paused to see if the newcomers would initiate small talk or not.
---------
The big blonde fellow, the wee man and the bonny lass were met by another cookie-cutter CICS rep and led to yet another elevator. Their entire conduct thus far had been extremely withdrawn, and so the Customer Services agent made only the most casual attempts at conversation on the brief ride. The same discreet inspection of their persons was accomplished quickly, and they, too, were deposited in the meeting room, though the rep had much less to say by way of introduction than had Fleming - exactly nothing, even.

Admiral Thames made the same polite statement, and gestured them to several seats opposite the Guildsman and his accompanying sentient.
---------
After the Tybalt fiasco, the Sky One command staff (operating at this point with negligible direction from Port Admiral Thames) had elected to thoroughly scan each and every craft approaching the station, and that of Mr. Dubois-Nakamura was sufficiently unthreatening to approve his docking requests and to direct him to an appropriate point of entry.

He was met by a walking, talking exception to a rule - Sandy MacMahan was pretty darned gorgeous for being a corporate politico, and was a professional flirt, Grade A. His singular appearance found her totally unfazed. Sharp as a tack, as well - unable to usher Gerard into an elevator (the meeting was on the same floor), she managed to give him a quick sweep with handheld. While it might not have been flawless, it was done mid-flirt, and were it detected it would at least come off as respectful and unobtrusive.

Within moments, the number of people in the room had been increased yet again to seven, as Mr. Gerard Dubois-Nakamura was introduced and received by the still gracious Admiral Thames.
---------
"Marcel Lavallier of Specialized Structures Engineering" was a radically pleasing introduction for a resource-strapped corporate establishment to hear, even if it did refer to what appeared to be a swashbuckler. But people did many things these days, and it was not CICS rep Tohiri Noguchi's job to pass judgment. With a smile, he led the way for the charming businessman.
---------
Harold Fleming, having escorted Tybalt to his meeting with the Admiral, he doubled back to meet with the ZMI contingent. He managed, barely, to keep himself from beaming as he caught sight of Philip Ascent and his companions.

Here, at last, was a corporate creature. Dubois-Nakamura's credentials had identified him as a business agent, but his appearance (whether he had designed it to be so or not) was slightly off-putting, and certainly defied the common stereotype of the bean counter, due to his vaguely militaristic air. Citizen Lavallier, likewise, was not cast from the typical mold, though clearly a businessman in good standing.

But here, before him, Fleming was awash in the forced smile, the jauntily extended hand, the conservative but expensive business dress - he was returned to his element. Not that the other merchants and businessthings and representatives had been repugnant - simply not reeking of capitalism.

Ultimately, his task remained the same. Shake hands. Smile. Talk. And convey the final purveyor of raw materials to the room in which Port Admiral Thames would hopefully make history. It was swiftly accomplished.
--------
All finally present and accounted for, Thames rose to his feet and cleared his throat. "Thank you, ladies and gentlebeings, for coming. You have responded to a request from Conquest Incorporated, and I convey my Director's personal thanks. Your help, if you should choose to give it, will not be forgotten." Pleasantries out of the way, he could now utter words of actual substance.

"Conquest Incorporated has recently completed an exhaustive campaign to free its employees from the shortsighted rule of inefficient socialist throwbacks. Having accomplished this historic feat, we are looking to the stars in an attempt to escape the largely solidified Terran financial landscape to a more fluid and untamed environment. For this, specific resources are required." He paused. "I'm talking about the required materials for building ships. To create a trade empire, one needs merchantmen" and warships to defend them "and the cost of securing a sufficient quantity of Terran metals would be prohibitively expensive.

"And so it is that we turn to you, the willing capitalists of the universe. I have been empowered to reach an agreement with one or all or some other combination of you to ensure a steady stream of construction materials. However, the precariousness of a regular, convoy-based system of constant resupply would be repellant for obvious reasons. There is, then, another option.

"An ideal scenario would involve CI's appropriation of existing mining facilities, or, alternatively, we could purchase cartographic information regarding unclaimed or contested" just the slightest, slightest emphasis on that word "deposits of substances like copper, iron, aluminum or the like. Dependency is not at all attractive, and will be accepted only as a last resort.

"If such an arrangement is arrived at, a supplementary system of regular supply could be considered, so just because we buy a starmap from someone doesn't mean all the money has been made for the day. Payment could come in many forms - finished products, trade agreements, information, or maybe even the strategic loan of corporate security forces, though that last would have to be a special case, indeed." He looked about the room. "I suppose I had best open it up, then. Please, make it clear what you have to offer myself and my employer, and state your names and affiliations, as well. Some of you" he looked pointedly at the blonde individual and his entourage "have been less than forthcoming regarding such particulars. Also, you might not all be entirely known to one another." Somewhat abruptly, he returned himself to a sitting position, and waited attentively.

At the comment and look, the man replied, "I wasn't aware names, nationalities and personal information was a necessity of buisness."

Shooting a glance at his companion, the small, almost mediterraenan man commented, "I'm Remius, this is Valerie and he is Glane. We represent a number of parties that wish to remain safely ensconed in secrecy, until such time as a deal is formed."

"As to our offer, we know of many deposits of ores, similar to what you've named, that are unclaimed, as well as having a not inconsiderable store of processed metal that is available for sale." Valerie commented

As Admiral Thames spoke, Tybalt busied itself with fiddling with a computer attached to it's arm, the small hexagonal screen flashed and blinked as he manipulated the keys, the characters on which, changed every time they were pressed. Once Admiral Thames had finished, Tybalt stood without pause, as if it was naturally assumed that he should talk next, ignoring Remius, and his introductions. He addressed the the Admiral directly, his 'voice' bizzing, without inflection.

"The Merchants Guild.........can provide you with what you seek, in enourmous.........quantaties. The Merchants Guild can also..............provide you with a capable fleet of ships, both transport and ships...........of war, to carry you and your workers to their appropriate........mining destinations."

He paused and consulted the computer on it's arm again.

"The only query that needs to be settled.............is what you are prepared to give The Autarch in exchange. We can provide you with several uninhabited moons within the.........Commonwealth that have an abundance of the.......ores you require. We do not require your manufactured goods or your security forces, we would only require that in adition to minig the ores you need that you also.............procure the raw materials we require from your mining operations."

It paused again and looked around "We would also require any surplus of.........workers that you have, to perform functions for The Autarch."

Narem smiles to the Admiral "What Tybalt is saying, is that slaves would be very valued as payment."

Tybalt turns and nods "Yes.............we would develop the mines that we could turn over to you, only we have a shortage of workers..............if you can fill that gap, your Director can reap the benifits. The ores you mentioned................have little value to us, and the bulk could be kept for the benefit of your..........Director."

Tybalt remains standing, and although no eyes can be seen, the Admiral can feel eyes watching him from somewhere behind Tybalt's mask, not to mention the blue headlights that Narem calls eyes are turned on him.

*****

In orbit, the Voltaug gleefully collects information on the type of scanners turned on it, gathering information that will surely be prized by the Guild of Engineers. The scanning most likely was having some ill-effects on the Thilite crew of the Voltaug, but their lives were fully expendable.

Sebastions mind danced on demographics, paraded through reports and slid its way through company policies and the ocean of memos they sat upon. His work however had been done for him by an expert team several hours before and cross-referencing it with the first requests he reached out for Catherine’s case with simple ease.

This however was Philips moment it was not yet quite time for cold hard walls of figures his voice sounding solid, dependable like the village corner store owner in some picturesque era that never existed.


“Admiral Thames, my name is Philip Ascent of the incorporated state of ZMI, my aid Sebastion Taylor”

The smile danced as he introduced his team his hands and body language making carefully practised moves designed to inspire confidence and trust. This was an artist at work. A smile in the correct place, a tuck of the elbow just so, the handling of a smart flimsy at just the right angle. Three centuries of psychological research and his own experience were behind Ascents moves.


“The incorporated state has on offer a variety of options from several very high value objects in the Luyten system, a mere 8.4 light years distant, to several hundred thousand claimed objects in the Oorot cloud and several thousand ore bodies we no longer finds necessary to retain in the asteroid belt. We also have several series of semi mobile exploratory resource platforms in the 9 to 10 megaton range which due to cancellations within certain programs and our switching to more mobile assets in this role have found to be surplus to requirements. We at present have three refinery orbital’s that could meet your requirements, though we would suggest in light of your requirements TM-198 which specialised in bulk ferrous processing before being mothballed last year. We also offer a selection to you if not all of 4 class C shipyards at L2 rated for general civilian industrial construction on up to 2 kilometre standard vessels. At present the company finds itself somewhat awash with such assets after the completion of Megacity three they are quite superfluous to our requirements. The Seanti yard at L3 is also on offer this is a specialist heavy duty ore barge construction yard. Seanti has served the state for 23 years in the construction of dumb ore barges and tugs rated for 30 megaton haulage.”

As Philip spoke Sebastion danced his mind through the projector built into Catherine’s case, it slid over demographics that highlighted the yards financial viability, or this or that ore bodies long term output, dancing pie charts hovered around Philip and in perfect time to there appearance like an experienced weatherman his hands were already pointing at the appropriate one when it appeared. Detailed schematics of the ugly form of an ore barge danced, the tug briefly appearing its huge flared thrusters making it appear oddly cone like.

“Finally the incorporated state also feels it appropriate to offer you construction licences for some of our more effective produce.”

Philip finished his smile dancing as he gently pushed forward a data chip.

“ I believe that you may find this in particular to be to your tastes Admiral.”

With that the dancing holos vanished and Philip sat down, the laughter lines about his eyes half crinkled. Sebastion snapped the case closed and slid it back to Catherine’s almost meek embrace.



Contents of the chip:
http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Sterrenraaf

Now that's a reception. And a quite pleasant one at that, as far as Geraud is concerned. Sandy MacMahan's gorgeous appearance aside, she's doubtlessly smart as well, not to mention quick. The only disappointment is the sheer shortness of the time they need until they eventually reach the meeting room. Still, the time is sufficient for him to go through the basics--Mutual introduction, a bit of smalltalk, a bit of humour--and he can at least hope that further contacts might follow. It isn't a necessity, of course, but he wouldn't mind, either.

In this light, the brief flash of long-wavelength radiation--Being busy admiring Sandy's face, he doesn't really notice the handheld, the radiation however is noticed by a handful of internals--is excusable and, given the circumstances, quite understandable as well. A part Geraud is half inclined to consider it sheer curiosity, rather than security.

Not that it reveals much, of course, at least in the sense of risks. There's the odd bit of metal or ceramics and hard carbon structures, and if the device is reasonably advanced (As it should be), it might notice some odd, microscopic patterns within and wrapped around the nervous system and the neurons in the brain. Optronics aren't necessarily machine-specific. The body's warm, almost 40 degrees celsius, due to implants requiring a little more energy to work than a baseline body, and then there's bits and bytes of larger artificial structures in the brain, replacing a good deal of the usual gray mass... And a small backup, where one would expect the appendix.

The blood and lymph system are flashing oddly, too, due to bits of We're-not-blood micromachinery floating about in the red-and-white fluids. Still, apart from (Possibly) a bit of novelty value--And even this isn't a given, considering the nations of origin some of the attendants have--there's nothing that requires serious consideration, from a security point of view, anyway.

Entering the room, Geraud gives a slight bow in the general direction of those guests who are already present, then a second, slightly deeper one specifically in Admiral Thames' direction. "Geraud Dubois-Nakamura, Nakamura & Charles, IntP. Honoured to be here."

Taking his seat, he then resolves to wait patiently. Smalltalk would certainly be possible, but he's still a little enchanted from his (Short) encounder with Ms MacMahan, and decides to think about it (And her) during the wait. Doesn't have to be serious, of course, but reflecting over such pleasant things can make business so much nicer...

And eventually, the serious business starts. Geraud quickly glands the hormones necessary to be up and fast, a few more-or-less automated processes boot up the machinery inside him... Then he listens.

Machinery and biology grind into--though on occasion not liking--each other, and eventually, inevitably start to work together. Thoughts are formed, ideas produced, no different from those of a baseline human. Just a little faster.

Complex issue. Given the lack of- Nevermind. The backseats start talking.

He has try hard to not chuckle as Remius talks, but eventually manages to keep it at a small smile and an infinitesimally short giggle. Yeah. A very trustworthy business partner, indeed. Who, what, why, where, legal insurances... Not relevant? I suppose that the term 'Scam' has to be redefined to cover them. Well, at least there's some amusing fellows present.

The Merchants Guild. Well, sounds good so far... Of course, the reaction the Admiral may have with regards to slavery should be interesting, either way. And in any case, there's this thing about slaves being so terribly inefficient when one compares them with machinery.

He mentally scales them down from 'Interstellar Corporation' to 'Third World FTL-ness'. Which isn't such a bad thing, really, just competing with local markets might be a little hard, or so Gerard supposes. But then, he could always be wrong. Somehow.

Eventually, Tybalt finishes, and Geraud decides that he can start making his point. A little different from Tybalt, of course, as he waits for a moment, wondering if there's anyone else wanting to make a point, right now. Patience is a virtue.

There is, of course, at least one who does. ZMI. Oh well. Another few minutes of waiting, then the process repeats. This time he gets his chance, and so he leans forward, smiling. "Well, I believe that there's a conflict of interests. You require ships to 'Expand your Horizon', so to speak. Expand trade, interaction. For this ships, you need raw materials. But to ship the raw materials, you'll need ships, again. So I'd suppose that there would be a period of dependence on foreign shipping before the eventual goal would be reached, yes?

"Such is of course prfectly manageable. In any case, my, that is, Nakamura & Charles, IntP., offer would be along the following lines: DA has held considerable territory on the moon for a considerable amount of time, however, initial colonisation effords eventually failed, due to nastyness... Specifically, the lack of gravity, combined with a sudden decrease in population densities elsewhere. The colony is presently in the process of being turned into a military base, I believe it has to do with crossfire-capabilities in Earth orbit, but in any case... 380000 square kilometres worth of territory can hardly be turned into a single gun platform.

"There's of course still plenty of mining opportunities up there, and my enterprise happens to control a considerable amount of them... About sixty percent. The advantages are obvious... It's essentially in the neighborhood, this limiting transport costs to the absolute minimum. 'Appropriation' is an issue, though... We cannot really sell sovereign territory to a Quasi-National Corporate Entity. We can, however, sell territory to a merely corporate entity. So... If you happen to franchise out a subdivision of Conquest Inc., you could essentially 'acquire' this territories, though of course within the legal boundaries of DA proper, rather than Conquest Inc.. Oh, and another advantage would be that traffic could be done with sub-interplanetary craft, which I'm sure would suit your interests, given the lack of ships you're presently suffering from. At about a megaton per year, this would of course not be excessive, but certainly more than a drop in the bucket."

The smile changes a little, becoming a tad sly, though this is probably a little hard to notice, given Geraud's overall appearance. "There are of course follow-up options, as well as temporary solutions. We happen to have a few miners in the asteorid belt... About, ah... A dozen. While it would be silly to 'sell' asteorids, we could still sell you the ore, refined during transit if wished. Of course, knowing your ideal solution, this isn't it, but I'd think it to be considerably useful, for the time being. Until you have eventually constructed your own fleet to conduct such operations all by yourself.

"It would be cheap, too... We're holding back with refitting our miners with reactionless drives, as presently, plasma is both cheaper and more reliable than the new generation. It would be slow, certainly, going at 1m/s^2 for transport and 10m/s^2 for refining, but cost-effective. And for another, oh, perhaps ten megatons per year...

"There's a third way, of course. While my enterprise doesn't possess any factory craft, we're certainly having contacts... If you're particularly interested, we could try and organise a contract through which friends would construct a smallish, cheap but reliable fleet for you. It has the dependency-risk, of course..." He hesitates for a moment, more for a dramatic pause than out of an actual need to think. "But then again, this ships would be used by you in order to eventually acquire self-sufficient capacities. Also, there's plenty of older ships about. Not everything gets refitted, and I'm sure that we could provide a few vessels through contacts."

What he doesn't say--not yet, anyway--is that warships wouldn't be included, at least not as brand-new productions (Getting rid of outdated ones on the other hand, well, this could possibly be an option). Getting a militarised factory craft to produce those for an Ardan nation would be... difficult at best. There would be less-than-legal options, of course, but the results of such processes would be of rather poor quality, and then there's the issue about it being a less than smart idea to say so in public.

"Oh, and as far as payment goes... I'm sure the councils throughout DA would like trade agreements and information. However, as far as I and my enterprise are concerned, money works best."

Tybalt looks from side to side as the Angstian and ZMI 'salesmen' make their pitches. He then speaks again.

"The others here seem to think it acceptable...............that you rely on their shipping until your production levels meet capacity. I am certain..............that this is for convienance...................not for their excessive profit. " Perhaps that would have sounded sarcastic, but the translator attached to the speakers doesen't convey inflection at all well. "The Guild of Merchant's plan gives you self sufficency from day one. Perhaps..........you may save resources in the short run with their plans..............but our plan is the best for strong, steady and continued growth."

He pauses and holds up his arm with the computer on it and depresses a button and it begins showing 3D schematics (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=405919) of several ships, transports and war ships.

"If it is self sufficeny you desire............than obviously my plan is best."

Narem, has seemingly grown bored with the whole thing, now that salesmen have begun talking and now focuses his attention on Sandy MacMahan's pleasant features. It's not hard to tell where he's looking, he casts a blue glow over whatever he's looking at.

He ponders for a minute trying to catch her gaze, he would be interested in reading her thoughts, but he isn't sure if it would be polite in the current situation.

Philip stared at Tybalt like he had grown an extra head and danced around the table half naked and covered in tapioca. For once in his life he was very almost without words. He glanced at Sebastion and meaningfully raised an eyebrow.


This can’t be real right? I mean that just didn’t happen did it?

Apparently there more out of touch out there on the rim then we thought Philip. And M/AM ships to boot. Oh dear.

Fireworks. Ive seen a few near the rim and even a few in system as couriers but full scale warships?

It is somewhat hard to take, and a primary armament based on M/AM does not seem ..sane.

As you said there out there on the rim. I think it does something to there minds I really do.


Philip turned again to Tybalt

“Sir I believe you have not quite understood our offer, and please excuse me if my tone misled you, we are selling ore bodies, mining craft, refineries and ship yards, your ah assertion is I’m afraid false”.

Philip had to try very very hard not to grin, but he was after all a professional contract specialist. Sebastion simply never smiled, however Catherine’s shoulders were visibly quivering as she hid her face behind her briefcase. Wilson was left with a look of abject disbelief.

Tybalt waves his gauntleted hand dismissively before Philip.

"Your offer is a grain of sand compared to....................the vast quantities..........of ore that I have offered. The Guild of Engineers can build any mining vessel....................that is required."

He paused and turned towards Philip, apparently regarding him silently.

Narem, on the other hand looked quite amused, but not by Tybalt and Philip, he had decided that he quite liked Sandy MacMahan's shape and was carefully admiring her.

"While all the offers are, I'm sure, tempting our host, they are all rather vague. I propose that each of us scribbles down our initial offers and let our gracious host look them over as we're beginning to get into one-upmanship rather than the more important buisness of making a profit." Victoria said, her slight oriental cast and sparkling blue eyes at a contrast.

"Gentlemen, please." Thames was nonplussed by the continuing aggression of the now infamous Tybalt. The altogether frustrating flipside of this was that he was extremely interested in his offer, save for some very obvious and glaring reservations. "The latent value of each proposal need not be attenuated by attacks on the positions of others, as Ms. Victoria has said." A sidelong glance at Tybalt and his artlessly philandarous companion conveyed the gist of his statement rather well. Continuing, "While a written proposal would be helpful, there is much discussion and much give-and-take to be had."

Deciding that addressing the tradesmen in the order in which they had spoken would be the fairest and most respectful option, the Port Admiral directed his first response to Remius, Valerie and Glane, who had not yet spoken. "I'm afraid that some sort of personal information is going to have to be required - we are discussing business arrangements that could involve, potentially, trillions of credits over a period of time that could possibly be several years. Some accountability is entirely necessary. Unless you want to offer yourselves as hostages, or something equally absurd and drastic, then I see this winding down fairly quickly, unless your 'ore deposit' is an especially nice, discreet one. But please, do tell."

Turning slowly towards Tybalt, one of the truly great men employed by CI pondered deeply. Unskilled labor - never, ever, ever would a corporate officer raised in the underhanded culture that he had been say 'slave' - was a simple matter to procure. The largely subterranean impoverished population of CI was composed of unbelievably poor people. The lower middle class and up were those that actually saw sunlight on a daily basis. And the subterranean poor were only not out of sight and mind when the CI establishment wanted something from them. Like labor. Whether it felt like paying for it or not - and yet.

And yet. Slavery was not so much a problem. To be perfectly blunt, no one cared. No one who mattered and was terribly hard to replace, anyway. But the Guildsman's proposal was certainly not without its fair share of problems. Cardinal among which was whether or not Tybalt's people could be trusted. And the signals he was getting to that effect were not good ones.

But the possibilities! Moons plural would set CI up for an exceptionally long time. The duration of his career, certainly. But there were so many factors - how far was the Commonwealth from Sol? Was that Commonwealth likely to change its mind and attempt to reclaim those moons? How much would fortifying these moons beyond that sort of effort cost?

"Ah... There are certain ponderables that need to be addressed, Mr. Tybalt. Certain guarantees must be made. How far, exactly, are these moons from Sol? When Conquest Inc acquires them, do they become part and parcel of the CI property portfolio, or are they subject to Commonwealth rule? Can we develop them as we please after payment is made? In short, are we buying or renting?" He laced his fingers. "Irregardless of your answer to those questions, there are others. What percentage of the production from these facilities were you considering as suitable payment? Also, how many" again, avoiding the word "unskilled laborers would be deemed sufficient for payment?" Nothing was said about buying ships from either Tybalt or his Commonwealth. Such purchases would be made from slightly less risk riddled clients. Only the sheer enormity of the potential profit kept discussion going at all. But what potential!

Turning back to the other side of the table, Thames regarded Philip Ascent and his entourage. The executive cum naval officer was very much aware that the bulk of the ZMI proposal regarded the types of items that had not been specifically enumerated in his list of requested articles. Nonetheless, they were extremely promising. "The appeal of the resource-rich moon or asteroid belt is that it is stationary, or more realistically speaking bound to a standard orbit. Thus, they are easy to provide... support for." He felt that it could be gathered from his tone that he meant 'defend.' "That support only applies to items that CI itself is exploiting. While we would be interested in the resources resultant of the mining of single asteroids, CI would not be interested in taking official possession of them - a fixed rate payment would be acceptable, with transport factored into the negotiated price, whatever that might be." He cocked his head speculatively. "As to the Luyten system, I am all ears as to what these 'high value objects' might be."

"In terms of industrial works, you have certainly piqued my interest." He produced a small handheld from his pocket and loaded the chip proffered by Philip. "TM-198, and the Seanti barge yard in particular would be sound purchases, given reasonable pricing. The class C yards are of slightly less interest as Port Harris" he gestured vaguely towards the starboard bulkhead and the sprawling skeletal structure that all of those present had seen on their way in "is to be completed later this year, and will comfortably provide the yard space that we will need for the foreseeable future. Refining and transport-production facilities are things we would like to see running as soon as possible, and TM-198 and Seanti would provide for this." He glanced down at his handheld and raised his eyebrows slightly. "Your offer of production licenses is also most suggestive. I would quite enjoy seeing something in the planetary defense line." He pocketed the chip for future reference. "I think we can begin talking about prices once we've established what we're talking about in the Luyten system."

"And Mr. Dubois-Nakamura, of course. Creating a subsidiary for the purpose of lunar exploitation would be no great task - indeed, the benefits of keeping the territory under the legal jurisdiction of Der Angst are many and varied, as I assume that in such a crowded and cosmopolitan place as the inner Sol system the DA powers would pride themselves on stability and peace. Being able to have even a small concern on the moon that requires little in the way of a garrison or trade route maintenance would be terribly nice, to be frank. As with ZMI, I am as happy as can be to purchase regular shipments of ore from solitary asteroids that your enterprise will exploit, but CI is only directly interested in larger deposits. As this is exactly what you propose, we need only to settle on payment. Also like Mr. Ascent's proposal, I think that ship production will be handled by facilities already under construction." He sighed. "As to the amount of capital that you deem an acceptable trade, I am waiting eagerly." He sat back.

snip
"We can garantee that our deposits are at least equal, if not exceeding anything that will be offered in terms of size and purity." Victoria replied

"As to personal information, the corperate interests we represent are involved in some buisnesses that they'd prefere never saw the light of day. This is one of them. That is why only one of us is an actual person, at least by the terms that you would define it." Glane commented

"Should we be able to gain your word, and a short amount of privacy, we would be more comfortable to divulge the kind of information you seek." Reimus added

To Noguchi, Lavallier remains a charming fellow, couching businesslike questions in polite phrases and smiles, volunteering information about the business he's proposing. Oddly for a Territorial Citizen, his smiles are wide and brilliant, not the curve of lips you'd expect if you'd read basic advisories. His speech, more the French-accented tones of the Black - the semi-independent off-Earth part of the Territory Co-Prosperity Sphere - than the harsh Afrikander-German accent of the African mainland.

But he does seem to be a bit of a swashbuckler, or at least a maverick.

He enters the Admiral's presence with a bow for the Admiral, somewhat deeper than he gave Noguchi; nods all around., sitting down. He listens to what the representatives have to say. If there is something beyond polite interest it's a sharpened interest at Dubois-Nakamura's and Ascent's spiels, evaluating, and maybe a hint of... distaste... at Tybalt. Distaste at the mention of actual slaving, obvious. He waits, politely, for an opportunity, before raising his hand and addressing the room.

"Marcel Lavallier, Specialized Structures Engineering. Former Advisor for Space Expansion for the Republic of the Territory, later of the Advisory Board of the Republic of the Black, presently in private enterprise. I've been listening to the proposals, and I believe SSE can make a valid offer.

"What SSE would do would mainly be to create a place for" nod to the Port Admiral "Conquest Inc - and for that matter, other intested parties - within the overall logistics structure of what in the Sphere is typically called the fringe. Briefly, this is a moderated market catering to the needs and wants of participants, providing quite an efficient overall result.

"What your people, Port Admiral, would get out of this would depend on what you put in. Offer assorted foreign funds and you can certainly find tens of megatons per annum of processed raw materials, elements, compounds. Single megatons of more advanced processed materials. Offer materials processing within your specialization, products, wharf and dock space hours, whatever suggests itself, and you can expect a rapid growth. The fringe economy handles teratons of materials per annum, most of it going into local projects. No single person really knows all of it, except possibly some of the more rarefied machines.

"A caveat! There is always considerable lag involved. What you are acquiring is raw materials, processed materials, components, services... but all this filters through a dispersed network scattered across Sol into the Oort and across many lightyears. Preplanning is required to make use of it, and here SSE can certainly provide services. We expect, as it were, to profit hugely from creating your place as a 'production metanode' and later to profit from Conquest Inc's existence as such."

A shrug.

"Of course some caution will needs be observed in the initial stage. I believe that the simple expedient of using agencies on third party nations like DA or ZMI" courteous nods to the representatives thereof "to hold payments in escrow will suffice. Overall, I believe our services will work best as part of a harmonized effort with DA and ZMI entities, with no offense intended to other nationalities. Providing where we are at our best. But that is ultimately something for the intelligence nets to administer."

(OOC: RL happened, with a vengeance. Sorry. Will edit as necessary, but this might not be before Sunday.)

Dubois-Nakamura was, admittedly, slightly mystified by the attitudes of Reimus and Co., not really getting why they were even present... This was certainly not what he would consider serious business.

But then, their choice, not his.

He then disregarded the slightly... Compensatory attempts of the Merchant Guild as being comparatively irrelevant for his own position (Way too excessive travel times. Insecure ships. Idiotic behaviour. Barbarians.), smiled a little at the ZMI reaction, and eventually started to once more pay some serious attention as the Port Admiral started talking, again.

Sounds good. Quite good, indeed. Still, he waited for Marcel Lavallier to finish with his own proposition, smiling inwardly. It was certainly an order of magnitude above the solutions he could offer, but it also included a... What? Yes, a form of advertisement for him. And ZMI, of course.

Eventually, he could answer.

"Hrm. I'd say it's perfect, then. I'd say... ore delivery with our own craft from the belt for standard prices..." He took a pen out of a pocket (Old fashioned as he was), realised that it would be useless, and eventually produced the necessary documents, datafiles etc., handing them over to the Port Admiral. "As far as the moon is concerned..." Now he could use his pen. He quickly scribbled down a few numbers on a vaguely-standardised form, handing it over as well (And yes. DA was generally rather fond of paper. It didn't have the compatibility issues electronic systems suffered from, which endeared it to many).

Needless to say, the number was... Considerable, though not too excessive to be considered insane. After all, it was only about a megaton of ore per year and a hundred thousand square kilometers. Nothing too big. Dubois-Nakamura smiled. "I'd think this is acceptable. Once legal issues--Creating a subsidiary--have been deal with, the transfer can take place. The local authorities are a little complex, mind... Administrative shrubbery. But I'll see to offer help in this regard, to make sure things go smoothly."

Granted, hearing 'Peace and Stability' mentioned in the same sentence as 'Der Angst' was a little odd... Historically, DA had been the exact opposite. But then, the present administration(s) at least tried to make it a truth.

OOC: I have the very least authority to denounce people for tardiness. Don't worry about it.

Having listened to Victoria, Remius, Lavallier and Dubois-Nakamura, Admiral Thames addresses the first two, beginning yet another semi-awkward you-spoke-first series of responses that the meeting seemed to require. "I fail to see - quite completely - how the sale of certain ores is an enterprise that is to be shielded from posterity. I repeat that without anything by way of collateral, not even one as flimsy as reputation, that any chance of business progressing past even a salutatory state is decidedly minute."

Having made himself clear, Thames sought clarification from Citizen Lavallier regarding his proposal. "My understanding, Mr. Lavallier," he began slowly "is that you are proposing a system by which CI would invest yard time, processing of raw materials, finished products and capital in various currencies - to what? The fringe economy itself, or the Territory, or some other body? - and receive, in turn, large quantities of the ideal materials from that same economic system. All of this to be coordinated and preplanned by the SSE. Have I missed or distorted any point? The proposal you suggest is a complicated one."

Turning his attention to the reams of hardcopy that the DA business agent had presented him, Thames flipped pages for a moment before speaking again. "I think this arrangement would be more than merely pleasing, Mr. Dubois-Nakamura." In fact, he thought that six or seven percent of the price for the lunar property could be knocked off, but the figure was in the general neighborhood, and more specific finagling could be handled at lower levels. If the good executive from Der Angst preferred a more immediate finalizing of details, that would be fine, too. "There remains but the tiniest of details to haggle over, as you say." He smiled demurely. "I think CI Lunar has an apt little ring to it, as far as the subsidiary is concerned." Even though he had thought that Debois-Nakamura had given off the slightest burst of surprise or amusement at the reference to peace and stability, he could not be sure. It would also be impolitic to explain that what he had meant was that the inner Sol system would be an irresponsible place for obvious economic or political machinations to interfere with fair business practices, and that CI operations there would thus be safe under DA legal jurisdiction - considering, especially, that the main body of Conquest Inc was literally just next door. A threat, even very thinly veiled, would have been rash and simply rude, but to suggest that CI's ability to protect what it owned given its geographic - astrographic? - proximity was not a factor in the decision-making process would have been a falsity.

"It has to deal with the way the nation we live in, as well as the way those we represent operates. To properly explain would take all day. I believe I understand you're misgivings, but rest assured it is perfectly ligit. Should you insist before hearing our offer, on verification, I would request that it be done in private." Victoria replied

Glane commented, "If you arn't interested in a lucrative deal, I guess we could leave and let all the shiny ore just accumulate." He said with a shrug of his overly large shoulders.

Admiral Thames considered Victoria for a long moment, and then relented. Curiosity was a powerful motivator. "If that is the way you wish it, then it can be arranged. I can hardly leave these other gentlemen in the very midst of negotiations," he encompassed the entirety of the conference room with a wave of his hand, "but can make other arrangements." He motioned to Sandy MacMahan, and she stood up from her place against the wall behind him.

"If it is acceptable to you, you may communicate your business plan to Ms. MacMahan, my trusted associate. Anything you would hope to tell me could be said to her in all frankness. If it you must speak directly with me and no other, then I am afraid I must ask you to wait until business has been otherwise concluded. I assure you again that Ms. MacMahan is entirely trustworthy, and a fine conduit for our dialogue." The salaciously curvaceous woman strode to the entrance of the room, and pressed the portal control. With a whisk it stood open, and she stood, beaming, expectantly awaiting their response.

Victoria and Reimus stood to follow Ms. MacMahan. Reimus slid up to Sandy and asked, quite openly, "Do you happen to be single?" His eyes roving from her hair to her feet and back again.

Dubois-Nakamura nodded slowly, watching the four people depart, slightly annoyed that Sandy was one of them. "It's basically done, then, I'd say. And yes. CI Lunar sounds intriguing." He smiled, seemingly satisfied. "I'd sign the deal as soon as the subdivision is created, then. I'm sure... Yes, I have the necessary forms with me, various media and mostly legalese. So... Well, now it only depends on how fast CI Lunar can come into existence."

Lavallier nods. "The execution of the matter is indeed ridiculously complex, M Admiral. But really, so is any coordinated effort involving numerous assets. Conquest Inc is perfectly capable in this," an expansive gesture, "or we would not be meeting in this fine habitat! But the original Territorial economy with its industrial carcinomas, the space expansion, all those things have made such coordination utterly necessary.

"To answer, and pardon my obliqueness, Conquest Inc would be dealing with SSE, and increasingly with the fringe directly. You would, from the viewpoint of the resource allocation mechanisms, be a metanode, an actor representing many others. Initially you would be an actor with a fairly low confidence metric, and that is where we of SSE come in, providing... prestige? The recommendations of actors with high confidence metrics.

"You have many things to offer, M Admiral. You personally, as a decision maker. Your country. So do actors in the fringe, and in the corporate sphere, and in the government. It is all about coordinating needs and wants and haves and promises in a unified framework, and with the... rather insane... amount of computation available your dealings with Sphere entities could be made quite efficient."

"And in mine and my associates' opinion - ah, not shady associates. Merely analysts. In our professional opinion, it would be advantageous to harmonize these efforts with reputable partners accustomed to working in similar ways. There are certainly entities in both der Angst and Zepplin Manufacturers who qualify."

OOC: Sorry for the delay, busy weekend.

Tybalt having been fairly patient after making his first case and having been questioned he sat back down to fully consider the answer he finally did reply when it expediant for him to do so, standing again.

"The Guild of Engineers Tasker Transports can make the journey from Commonwealth Territory to Sol in approximately two hundred and twenty days. Needing only a................crew..............of twenty two, the payload of hundreds of thousands of tons of refined ore, profit...........would easily outweigh the costs.

The territory you would be given.............would be considered under Commonwealth law to be................private property and could be developed however you saw fit, within the laws of the Commonwealth. The Guild of Merchants would only wish a 15%.......................portion of the iron ores mined, and would also require that you mine silicates and iridium as well..............................all other materials, would be yours.

The Guild of Mercahnts would expect........................a goodwill gesture of some one hundred thousand workers as a down payment, and..............additional workers devliverd as agreed upon in exchange for services or materials."

Ms. MacMahan was, in fact, quite free, and she told Reimus so. In the politest terms possible, she also suggested that business should come before pleasure, but with a sly smile. As the door hissed shut and the various voices were cut off, the sound level fell to skillfully coquettish flirting and the rhythmic thumps of MacMahan's heels on the thickly carpeted floor of the hallway. A turn, a few feet, another veering off of the corridor and they were there.

The conference room was remarkably similar to the one that the ZMI, Guild, DA and Territory representatives were currently using along with Admiral Thames, but bereft of the needless flash of the waterfall and other accessories. It remained, however, an exquisitely expensive array of wood paneling, lush carpets and leather seats.

After showing her guests to their seats, she assumed the chair at the head of the table, and somehow - without losing her alluring charms - attained an air of command and stolidity appropriate to her position as negotiator, instead of merely a hostess. "If this is quite sufficient, it would deeply interest Conquest Incorporated to hear your proposal at last."
---------
Back amidst the others, Thames was replying to Dubois-Nakamura. "It just so happens that this particular business eventuality, by which I mean the creation of a subdivision of CI, was anticipated." He summoned a clerk by subvocalizing into his communication implant. "The particulars, of course, were not, so it will be a few moments before the hardcopy is read to sign." He paused. "In the meantime, you could draw up documents of your own, I suppose, or refreshments could be summoned, if you - or anyone - wished."

With a half-pained look, he turned once more to Lavallier. "While CI prefers the term 'self-governing corporate entity' to 'country,' as strictly speaking we are not, your salient points are attractive ones. A strategic partnership with ZMI and DA ventures within the context of the fringe and the framework of SSE would be most agreeable."

Finally, he spoke to Tybalt and Narem. Quite frankly, he wished he had heard the particulars of their proposal before they had all sat down together. Tybalt's shady payment plan was really something that would have been more appropriate to a private conversation. In the future, that would be the kind they were. For the time being, his voice lowered the tiniest octave. "Such a quantity of unskilled labor could be secured. Fifteen percent is also acceptable." He paused. "However, the particulars as to real estate development under Commonwealth law is a point that must be entirely explored. What, precisely, would be a violation of your laws to construct on those moons? We haven't even heard exactly how many there are, and how far from each other. The closer together they are, the better, as that would facilitate the centralization of transportation networks and assembly points for convoys - the safest method to make a journey such as that you describe." He paused. "Of course, it will take time to assemble the resources required to begin development. The smaller-scale initiatives with the others," a sweep of his hand, "as well as Mr. Lavallier's proposal, will serve to fulfill CI's immediate needs, and must first be exploited even to accrue sufficient capital to invest in the moons. Outside of, perhaps, a survey mission, I don't envision sending a task force to go begin construction for another few months, at least. The result of that will be that your 15% will take a certain amount of time in coming - as will any production, indeed."

Returning to his previous, jaunty manner, he addressed Philip Ascent. "Actually, come to think of it, CI would be interested in a pair of the L2 civilian yards, as well. Would that be an acceptable addition to the package suggested before?"

snip

Reimus continued to flirt with Sandy during the entire trip from the original to secondary room.

The two having taken thier seats, listened to Ms. MacMahan, and Victoria replied, "Yes it is sufficiant. I apologise for the inconvinence, but our employers insisted. We represent a consortium that you most likely havn't heard about before, the TransVornian company." She then pulled out a datpad and handed it over. On it was a nearly ludicrious offer, both in lack of cost to CI, and abundence of ore.

"I'd think so, yes. Oh, and... simple mineral water would be sufficient." Dubois-Nakamura quickly produced the necessary documents from his rather smallish suitcase, busying himself with them. Well, parts of him did, while others still followed the conversation. "As far as Mr. Lavallier's proposal goes, we'd of course participate, and I'm sure that we'd be able to raise considerable additional participation through a variety of contacts... It's a little more complicated for DA as a whole than for ZMI or The Territory, though, given that DA has a considerable amount of smaller, rather than one all-encompassing corporation. But that's of course not going to stop our individual participation. I'd suppose that we'd start out as a minor within the 'Strategic Partnership', given our comparatively small size, growing as we can raise additional interests throughout our contacts."

Sandy MacMahan widened her eyes slightly, but remained cautious. "This is a highly impressive offer. However, it conveys only such general facts as cost and quantity. There are other questions to be considered; the location of these products, or rather the method in which they shall be transported, is not explained here. Could you elaborate?"
---------
While reams of documents saturated with legalese was something that took time to prepare, mineral water was a vastly simpler matter, and was quickly attended to by a naval aide who departed as quickly as he came. Glasses were provided for all those present, though Thames himself was not a fan of the stuff, Tybalt did not have an obviously apparent ability to imbibe through his armor.

"Transportation can be arranged either throught you're own craft, or we could provide a few of our own. The location is fairly close by, depending on average engine speeds." She taps a few buttons popping up a XYZ map, showing relative locations. "The optimal design that we'd suggest would be a box'd engine transport. These are essentially the ore fused into a lump with an engine on it."

Finally, he spoke to Tybalt and Narem. Quite frankly, he wished he had heard the particulars of their proposal before they had all sat down together. Tybalt's shady payment plan was really something that would have been more appropriate to a private conversation. In the future, that would be the kind they were. For the time being, his voice lowered the tiniest octave. "Such a quantity of unskilled labor could be secured. Fifteen percent is also acceptable." He paused. "However, the particulars as to real estate development under Commonwealth law is a point that must be entirely explored. What, precisely, would be a violation of your laws to construct on those moons? We haven't even heard exactly how many there are, and how far from each other. The closer together they are, the better, as that would facilitate the centralization of transportation networks and assembly points for convoys - the safest method to make a journey such as that you describe." He paused. "Of course, it will take time to assemble the resources required to begin development. The smaller-scale initiatives with the others," a sweep of his hand, "as well as Mr. Lavallier's proposal, will serve to fulfill CI's immediate needs, and must first be exploited even to accrue sufficient capital to invest in the moons. Outside of, perhaps, a survey mission, I don't envision sending a task force to go begin construction for another few months, at least. The result of that will be that your 15% will take a certain amount of time in coming - as will any production, indeed."



Tybalt appeared ready to speak agian, but then looked back and then down and then back at Narem , who had remained seated. Tybalt then sat without another word and it was Narem who responded.

"Perhaps then it would be best to discuss our proposal privately after you have concluded your other business."

Narem had a sip or two of the mineral water,Tybalt did not even acknowledge it's presence and seemed a bit put off at the presence of the naval aide.

Sandy arched a precise eyebrow in thought. "This does, indeed, seem to be the most efficient utilization of resources. Better to strap an engine onto the product than to have to build - or pay for - a ship to carry that same product." She glanced over the datapad again, rechecking her conclusions. "The price you stipulate is reasonable. I foresee no problems in acquiring the Admiral Thames' signature." She looked up at Reimus pointedly. "While your credentials consist of, essentially, a single name that has never before drawn the attention of CI, I am sure the Admiral would be convinced of your complete authenticity come the arrival of the first 'box'd engine transports' in Sol." She smiled a winning smile.
---------
Thames had just finished assuring Tybalt that their discussion could wait until the end of present business when a clerk entered silently bearing the papers that would birth CI Lunar. The top sheet bore the signature of Director Zheng; evidence that a CI subsidy was never far from the minds of those in charge. The particulars, being impossible to predict, composed the vast majority of the papers. But the top sheet was the legal approval of Thames' action, and it was this that he signed and passed to Dubois-Nakamura.

"I'm sure he would." Victoria replied

Remius decided to offer an additional incentive, as well as a additional cost/price deal. "We could offer the first few shipments at a discount, as a sign of our sincerity." He said as he flashed a charming smile back at Sandy.

Dubois-Nakamura nodded, quickly looking through the papers - Not exactly reading them, but scanning them in, for somewhat faster, internal processing - and signed after another sip from the water. "Perfect." He reciprocated the process, handing Thames his own documents, essentially equivalent to Conq Inc's own version - International business just had to have some forms of standardisation to work with - , though a little shorter and perhaps slightly less formal. "A pleasure to do business with your, ah, entity. It's most certainly an efficient process. Of course, this also raises expectations regarding profitability, but I'm sure that's a good thing."

With a half-pained look, he turned once more to Lavallier. "While CI prefers the term 'self-governing corporate entity' to 'country,' as strictly speaking we are not, your salient points are attractive ones. A strategic partnership with ZMI and DA ventures within the context of the fringe and the framework of SSE would be most agreeable."


Lavallier inclines his head. "My mistake, Admiral. I apologize." Beat. "Framework is a good choice of word. Even if what we do is more the provision of an introduction to a place in an overall framework.

"That does sound indirect, doesn't it? Well, the economy I'm talking about is, but with extensive machine support it works, and very well indeed."

He turns to the Angstian. "SSE is not a huge corporation in itself, M Dubois-Nakamura. But we and associates of ours enjoy quite a bit of confidence, and this seemed to be a good opportunity to leverage that confidence into bringing foreign actors in. Useful for all involved, in a number of ways."

"Of course." Dubois-Nakamura nodded, perhaps just a little absent-minded. "And I certainly don't mind... Nor do ZMI or Conq Inc., I believe."

Meanwhile, calculations were done, contacts contacted, internal comms running hot. Time was not something Dubois-Nakamura was particularly fond of wasting, and while the discussion/ negotiations still lasted, a variety of authorities (And, for thast matter, ships) were informed about a number of changes.

It was possibly a little less than a microcosm, given the grand scale of sol, but disregarding its comparatively insignificant size, Dubois-Nakamura's company could at least excell in speed. After all, it would only be common courtesy to prepare everythiong for the transfer of ownership... Not only legally, but in every practical sense, too.

A corporate officer never heard the word 'discount' and frowned. Certainly not Sandy MacMahan. "That is a very magnanimous suggestion; I certainly see no objection. Is there something you would have Admiral Thames sign?" She looked questioningly to each of the representatives in turn.
---------
Thames inspected Dubois-Nakamura's papers carefully, sipping his mineral water. "Well, CI is very happy indeed to be involved, Mr. Lavallier. Though, I confess, the particulars of the expectations this partnership would have of us continue to remain... incompletely understood. We simply participate in your fringe economy, leveraging yard time, refining capabilities and capital in return for ores?" He paused. "If I don't miss the mark by too much, I would be more than happy to inspect whatever paperwork your have brought with you." Having examined the Angstian's contracts to his satisfaction, he returned them.

"On us, no." Victoria replied, "Glane has them. If you wish to return to where Thane and the others are?"

"Perhaps after buisness we could ..." Reimus left the statement open.

Sandy frowned, an act almost as beautiful on her face as a smile. "My work day started two and a half hours ago. Business before pleasure, and there is yet much business to be done!" She rose and stepped over to the door in a few leggy strides. "If Mr. Glane has the papers, then perhaps we should have him present them to the good Admiral for his signature." She waited, hand over the door control, for them to follow.

Reimus's face slightly fell, before perking up as he realized she hadn't actually said no. The two got up to follow Sandy back to the Admiral's buisness room.

Dubois-Nakamura spent another moment emptying the glass, then took the papers. "Well, if it's all to your satisfaction - And it certainly is to mine - I'd say... Congratulations. About a hundred-thousand square kilometres of luna are now available to you." He smiled. "Basic mining equipment is of course present, though you might want to gradually replace it with your own. Assistance, should it be needed to get used to the equipment, is of course available."

He hesitated for a moment, storing documents in his case, looking vaguely relaxed. "Otherwise, I'm sure that lower-level coordination should be sufficient to get rid of the various potential problems that may or may not become acute. Well, everything as detailed in the contract... For further, ah... Things..." He glanced in Mr. Lavallier's general direction. "Well, the day's long."

He wasn't thinking exclusively in business terms.

Thames grinned broadly, agog with visions of wealth, self-sufficiency and cash bonuses. He checked himself - a hundred thousand square miles of real estate on the moon wasn't quite a chapter in a history textbook. A footnote, though, quite possibly. "Absolutely marvelous. And in our own back yard, as well. Wonderful. A pleasure doing business with you - and that, quite possibly, is going to be an ongoing occurence, if Mr. Lavallier and his fringe economy have anything to do with it."

Coinciding theatrically with the end of the Admiral's sentence, the door whisked open to reveal the radiant form of Sandy MacMahan, as well as the TransVornian representatives. She bent over Thames and whispered a few succinct words into Thames' ear, bringing him up to date on recent developments. He brightened yet further. "Fantastic." He turned to Reimus. "Ms. MacMahan tells me that there are papers I should inspect...?"

Victoria reached forward and pressed her hand against Glane's back. Her hand slid into his 'flesh' and a few seconds later she withdrew a small binder, containing the contract.
"These are the forms." She commented

Lavallier nods. "Precisely, Admiral. You would be a participant, though precisely what you means will have to be decided. It could be CI entire. Some entity created for this purpose. You personally, or you and a staff appointed by you. This is an important choice, because this is the entity that will have to build up trust and confidence. At the beginning, I and my associates will assist you, and there's where we profit. Eventually, we will become redundant, after gaining a potential business partner.

"Oh, and I fully expect both yourself and the fringe to find commodities and services for exchange that I haven't thought of yet."

Lavallier concentrates briefly. "Bukefalos is speaking with dock personnel, Admiral. Papers and one-time pads will be on the way presently."

In the dock, the Firefly transport is indeed asking for a secure courier to the Port Admiral's office.

The Port Admiral gave Victoria a slightly vexed look as he accepted the binder that had been, until recently, stored in human flesh - or something that looked distastefully like it. Having placed it on the table, he inspected it quickly, flipping through the pages surreptitiously with the pen he had signed the Angstian contract with, as opposed to his hands. With a flourish, he turned back to the top sheet and affixed his signature. "Very fine, indeed. I presume the ore shipments will begin relatively soon?" Business all but concluded, he gave Victoria a polite smile.

Turning, Thames nodded at Lavallier. "I'll have someone bring them up." He paused in thought, though only briefly. "I am certain that Director Zheng will wish all of CI to participate in the fringe economy for maximum mobilization of resources. As you said, what we get out depends on what we put in. Thus, I foresee an effort to put in the greatest amount possible." The Territorial's various legal media were placed inconspicuously at Thames' elbow by an orderly who came and went without a sound.

"Yes they will, once we get the contracts properly filed and such." Victoria replied, noticing Thane's expression, she commented, "Glane is a NARI, or nano-robotic intelligence. He can assume practically any shape or form he wishes, limited only by mass."
In demonstration, Glane shifted into a perfect replica of Thane.

ooc: Think the T-1000, from Terminator 2

Thames thought that something as sophisticated as a 'nano-robotic intelligence' need not have been used for a task that might have been more efficiently accomplished using, say, a briefcase, but he was a great lover of nifty gadgets and appreciated the flair. "I suppose that is that, then." He rose and shook hands with Reimus, and then Victoria. "It has been a pleasure. Ms. MacMahan will show you back to your ship, unless there is additional business to discuss." Sandy went to the door, and Thames returned to his original position.

"Ah, Mr. Tybalt - perhaps, seeing as how Ms. MacMahan will shortly become available to discuss business arrangements once again, would you care, possibly, to tidy up our contract with her while Mr. Ascent, Mr. Lavallier and Mr. Dubois-Nakamura conclude our mutual arrangement? You could, alternatively, continue to wait." He inclined his eyebrows in an inquisitive gesture.

As the three got up and headed toward the door, Reimus veared off toward Sandy MacMahan, and asked, "Would it be possible to schedual a date sometime?"

Tybalt sat silenty as the question was asked, he then paused to manipulate some of the buttons on the computer in his arm and consult the output on it's screen.He then looked up and answered Admiral Thames.

"If Ms. MacMahan is........................capable of finalizing the agreement, then that would be aceptable. If Ms. MacMahan.................does not have the..................authority to conclude any agreement, then we...............shall continue to wait."

Narem simply shrugged and chuckled, he knew that Navigators were quite often perturbed when fobbed off onto underlings, and that Tybalt was very unlikely to speak with anyone other than the Admoral.

OOC: I'm going to be away for the next couple of days. I should be back late Monday night.
Sandy beamed an apologetic smile and tilted her head sympathetically. "Goodness knows when all that" she waved her hand vaguely behind her towards the rapidly receding conference room door "will wrap itself up, and there will of course be clean up work and legal niceties to hash out. We must content ourselves with a parting" she grinned coyly "smile."
---------
"Ah, perhaps not then." Thames leafed through some of the just-signed documents. "Ms. MacMahan serves only an advisory capacity. I think, then, that we should continue to postpone our discussion.

"Then I must bid you farewell." Reimus said as he took Sandy's hand and planted a kiss on the air just slightly above it. "May we meet again."
"Come on Romeo." Victoria said as she steered the smitten Reimus back to the ship, Glane taking the lead.

As Reimus flirted his last flirt for the benefit of Sandy MacMahan, Port Admiral Thames tapped his pen lightly against the conference table. "To review." He cleared his throat. "Mr. Dubois-Nakamura has concluded his business that directly involves Conquest Incorporated, yet remains to discuss the fringe economy with Mr. Lavallier, Mr. Ascent and myself. Well and good."

He paused for a moment, in thought. "Mr. Ascent and I need to set prices on the Seanti yard, two of the Class C civilian yards, refinery orbital TM-198 and production licenses. The Luyten system, or rather the ore within it, is still being discussed, though thus far in rather a vague manner.

"The four of us must now establish the individual particulars of our arrangement and sign whatever needs to be signed - very little remains between us all and wonderful Prosperity.

"And of course, Mr. Tyblat and Mr. Narem wait patiently to discuss our own enterprise." He looked about the room. "More refreshments, anyone?"

tag

After thier disembarkement, and as schedualed, the first shipment arrived promptly on time.
The ore was highly refined, and exactly what was covered in the contract.

Philip Ascent cleared his throat and began.

“ We have found that the refinery and extraction facilities are exponentially cheaper to run in low gravity conditions then within a planetary environment, with the concentration of useable ore quite staggeringly higher than in planetary bodies without that is the use of crust penetrating liquid extraction mines, which while an effective technology which we have experimented with in the past has proven to be both hazardous and excessively expensive even with its high rate of returns and wholly unsuited to use within a planet with any form of biosphere and even then only suited to a few sites on any planetary surface due to geological stability issues.”

Philip took a brief glance around before continuing.

“While local small scale extraction for specific ore bodies is undertaken through out Sol on planetary bodies we understand your ah concerns admiral. The industrial facilities we have offered you only cover one section of your extraction needs and your ah purposal for their de facto use by you is most acceptable, they however will only provide the basic materials necessary to complete basic expansion of infrastructure. Luytens is an entirely different matter. Philips grin seemed to grow. The following presentation shall I hope show this in detail”

With that Philip nodded and a holo appeared behind him.

The ZMI logo hovered in the air for a moment before a documentary started, its narrator’s voice a low gravely affair that seemed to cause the listener to feel as if they were listening to the voice of the empty spaces within the stars themselves, creating a feeling of awe and splendour, this was the desired effect. the actual effect was like having your ears run through an industrial subwoofer inside a cave.

Luyten 726-8 AB (UV Ceti)
Location:
01:39:01-17:57.0:C~, ICRS 2000.0

Luyten 726-8 AB is the sixth closest system to Sol. Claimed by ZMI 193 standard years ago it was the ideal position for heavy automated extraction with the extreme flare activity, variable gravity and high levels of ambient radiation, and a tiny and highly variable inhabitable zone making it unsuitable for conventional industrial nodes or freefloating low maintenance colonies to be established. Although both stars are “flare stars”, the fainter member of the system is considered to be an extreme example; it has been given the variable star designation UV Ceti but is also referred to as "Luyten's Flare Star." The extreme conditions in the Lutyen system have left a uniquely high quantity of fissile materials, and exotic materials in its debris belts. Original scouting 204 standard years ago by the ZMSF “Tacit Traveller” along with the observed characteristics of the binary system left the Lutyen system far down on any list of possible exo solar assets however further spectroscopic and geological probing of in system minor bodies proved that the melting pot that was the Luyten system had cooked up ore bodies of great value and concentration. Primary colonisation and industrialisation efforts began in earnest 123 years ago with the establishment of the Perdition colony.

Primary ZMI bases are situated in the cometary halo (far closer than sol’s cometery halo given the lower primary size) with the largest stable dark body at a diameter of 6,200 kilometres (Perdition) presently having no more than 1,380,000 inhabitants within a sub surface colony (Sorrenson City). System wide population is no more than 3.8 million with the bases outside the worst flare zones support a wide number of automated extraction platforms which operate within the flare zone and act as primary refining sites safely outside any “rip tide” like effects created by the binary system. Many of the exotic materials are used in transit drive construction and as such a full fleet task force is at all times on station with several fixed ZMSF bases on bodies throughout the system with a fleet support station in permanent orbit of Perdition. The Luyten’s system is used as a final testing ground for the ZMSF with vessels run through the gap between the binary as a final “crack up” test and has been used to stage a number of flare generating weapons tests with regular artificial flares generated every 3.8 years in A and every 2.73 years in B to lower the chance of any major eruption. The system for its first 23 standard years of operation was reliant on external sources of bio mass, however the rapid construction program and a large number of CHON conversion platforms Luytens is now a net exporter of advanced synthetic food stuffs. The corner stone of the system wide economy however remains the export of large quantities of use ready fissile materials. The Luytens system is governed locally elected autonomous body known as the perdition council however it is still nominally a ZMI territory.

BL Ceti (L 726-8 A)
This cool and dim, main sequence red dwarf (M5.6 Ve) is 11 percent of Sol's mass 14 percent of its diameter , and less than 6/100,000th of its luminosity . Although less dramatic in its brightness variations than its binary companion B, Luyten 726-8 A has also been identified as a flare star. Star A and its companion UV Ceti have a combined mass of about 20 percent of Sol's but less than 11/100,000th of its brightness. The two stars are separated "on average" by only about 5.5 times the Earth-Sun distance (AUs of a semi-major axis) in a highly elliptical orbit (e= 0.62), at an inclination of 127.3° degrees. The two stars swing between 2.1 and 8.8 AUs apart in an orbital period lasting 26.5 years. Like its companion, Star A is also a variable and flare star, designated BL Ceti.

UV Ceti (L 726-8 B)
This often even dimmer, main sequence red dwarf star (M6.0 Ve) has only 10 percent of Sol's mass , 14 percent of its diameter, and less than 4/100,000th of its luminosity. However, UV Ceti is an extreme example of a flare star that can boost its brightness by five times in less than a minute, then fall somewhat slower back down to normal luminosity within two or three minutes before flaring suddenly again after several hours. In 1952, UV Ceti was observed flaring to 75 times its normal brightness in only 20 seconds.

The display ended with a brief flaring ZMSF logo and an add for the crusty creamy crunch crackers companies 43rd annual raffle which was quickly cut off as Philip glanced at it and then began talking again.

“ZMI are willing to offer you a new state of the art fully operational independent extraction and processing line rated at 480,000 metric tons of fissile materials per month and a completed manned support facility capable of supporting up to three times its present throughput and supporting 64,000 personnel. Identified as TCR-2 the complete ah industrial nexus was due to come online last month however internal market shifts have left it ah somewhat standing out in the cold. The Lutyens systems indigenous production was ah overzealous of market trends and it is pointless to hide the simple economic fact that the ownership and construction of this facility is something of a white elephant within the in system administration. TCR-2 is as such for sale as it were at rock bottom prices. The state are willing to cede full sovereignty to you within TCR-2’s local space with the single prevision that you inform the state of major military deployments within the Luytens system. TCR-2 service facility is based on what I hope you will find a suitably ah moon sized object designated “Erwin’s folly” for some obscure reason by the inhabitants Lutyens. 1,480 kilometres in diameter “Erwin’s folly” is in a stable natural position within the cometary halo averaging 227 to 183 AU from Perdition and offers an excellent position to increase the size of your extraction process.”

As Philip spoke pie charts once more danced behind him.

“Present transit time from Lutyens for bulk cargo is an average of 4 standard days for a readily available commercial bulk haulier on an energy efficient transit. The company is also willing to provide up to 4.8 megatons of fissile materials per month to you from Luytens and a further 9.2 megatons throughout our holdings. The exotic materials are available at 2,300 tons for sale per month from Luytens and a further 1,230 tons per month from the rest of the companies territories. I would add that mister Lavalliers proposal of holding payments in escrow within our banking system for services provided to you within the fringe is quite acceptable.”

Philip held out his hand and sebastion slid another data chip into it.

“Admiral I think you will find all details pertaining to proposed prices within this data chip”

With that Philip slid it across the table.



OOC: stuff and things occurred sorry about the lateness,

OOC: No problem whatsoever.
Once again, Thames slotted the ZMI chip into his handheld. And did a mental double-take. When Philip Ascent said "rock-bottom," Philip Ascent darned well meant "rock-bottom." While his brain trumpeted the deal as one of the fairest that had passed across his desk in a good long while, he replied quite coolly.

“An inhospitable environment to be sure.” He was unable to forestall a wry smile at this point. “However, ‘hospitable’ is certainly an appropriate term were one to discuss, instead, the proposal I hold in my hand. The commercial opportunities are most heartening indeed. I eagerly await any documentation you would care to have me sign."

"Considering that Luyten is essentially in our back yard, I can almost certainly rule out any sort of military presence beyond, say, a destroyer or two, and even those will have to be, ahem, built first." He moved on quickly. "Surely nothing that would annoy or discomfit."

"As to the portion of your offer that does not pertain directly to TCR-2 and Erwin's Folly, it, too, is quite promising. It would be especially convenient to purchase additional substances directly from ZMI operations within Luyten, as those resources could be transported in the same convoys and ships as the output from TCR-2, and that would greatly simplify logistics for CI, and personally for me." He paused to take a sip of his mineral water. "I think there is some risk of purchasing more than we plan to use in the foreseeable future, and I think therefore that the 9.2 megatons of fissile materials from sources other than Luytens is something that we must, for the moment, pass on."
---------
As the giant hunk of floating rock was nabbed by sublight tugs for processing, a confirmation was sent to Thames' communications implant. Reimus had been as good as his word.

A pleasure indeed, Dubois-Nakamura thinks. He is quite satisfied with the deal, too. Mutually profitable - An ideal scenario on all accounts.

Of course, the glaring lack of reactions from Mr. Ascent regarding the fringe economy...

Oh well.

"I suppose that all sides have made their intended deals, then? Well, certainly a notable success, I'd say." Sure, he's a little rude, right now, but as Mr. Ascent isn't the most talkative person in the world... Someone has to accelerate it. "Regarding the fringe economy, I'm not entirely certain - I suppose a combined investment pool of sorts to combine resources and accellerate the trust-developing process, as well as to profit from each others' engagement, over the first time, to get involved more quickly? If this is possible, that is."

Philips mind danced between the demographics before he replied.

“That would be a most acceptable solution from our standpoint Mr.Nakamura”


. OOC WISDOM TEETH MAKING WITH BRAIN MELTING ..will make better post in morning

OOC post script or wil suffer days of pain followed by exam. With more pain.

OOC: And if this appears I should be able to post from work again, and there'll be an edit with an actual post.

OOC: Well, ideally, we're on the cusp of wrapping this up. ZMI and CI will conclude their deal promptly, whatever needs to be finalized about the fringe deal will be finalized, and then Thames could conclude his shady dealings with Tybalt when everything else has been finished. I'm open to suggestions.

"Gentlemen." Thames leaned forward, as seemed to be habitual when he spoke, over the table. "I must be frank. The materials, facilities and services that you can all provide are essential to the economic policies that my superiors wish to implement." He laced his fingers together. "It is therefore imperative that we bring these negotiations to a successful conclusion, and preferrably quickly." He smiled. "Not least of all because we seem to be keeping the singular Mr. Tybalt waiting." He nodded in Tybalt's direction.

Tybalt of course, may or may not be perturbed. He had sat entirely motionless, making no sound, and the mask that served for his face displayed no emotion whatsoever. The Vranagian, Narem, didn't seem put off either, perhaps he looked a bit hungry.

Of course for Tybalt, even weeks of waiting constituted less than seconds in his life span.

Philip Ascent watched through his limited data sphere link as the agent program containing the gestalts pre calculated response trees flickered. The line “replace you with a script” was not far wrong with such agents commonly deployed by DOFA to back up a plenipotentiaries claim to represent the authority of the gestalt and incidentally cover their large white betrousered behinds in case something went wrong. Of course given the deliberately quite limited set of response trees the agents were issued with by the gestalt they were useless in any kind of crisis anyway.

Ascents allowed a smile to broaden on his features before his voice buoyed up on tones of almost too perfect joy reverberated out.

“On behalf of the incorporated state I am pleased to state that we find the present arrangements acceptable and look forward to doing further business with you in the future.”


OOC: ur ..er .. *runs*

"Thank you very much for your efforts, Mr. Ascent." Thames smiled broadly. "I trust that the legal particulars can be hammered out by our people at some later date. The Seanti yard, two Class C civilian yards, refinery orbital TM-198 and the agreed upon defense licenses will be a significant addition to CI's asset portfolio. Once again, I thank you."

He cleared his throat. "That leaves us with Mr. Lavallier's proposal, and then Mr. Tybalt and I can clear up our misunderstanding about labor."

OOC:

Ok, so The Territory is ostensibly out of it. He hasn't replied to any of my telegrams, though he's been posting occaisionally in other threads. So who knows what that's about. I think we can all just say our goodbyes, and then Tybalt and Thames can get right down to it.

OOC: post when ready.

OOC: Alright, I'll still hope beyond hope that he'll come back eventually. I'll work around it.

Thames stood and scanned the faces of those sitting. "It would appear that Mr. Lavallier requires some small modicum of time to prepare his briefing on the fringe economy. While I hope it will be informative and beneficial for us all, I am also fully aware that we are all important individuals, and that our time is precious. As such, I would like to speak with Mr. Tybalt and Mr. Narem privately while the aforementioned presentation is compiled. If any of you would like to take this opportunity to excuse yourselves, thank you very much for your time and your business. If you can continue to stay and discuss closer economic ties, I would be personally gratified." Turning to Tybalt, Thames beckoned towards the door. "If you could come this way, sir, I would be much obliged."

oocness: Well, Renate (The Territory) is, erm... attempting to write the post, and I believe started over once or twice. He hasn't forgotten about it - It seems to be a severe case of writer's block, though.

icness:

"Of course." Dubois-Nakamura nodded - And he certainly wouldn't mind closer ties (Well, not he, personally. He wasn't quite certain about the opinions of high-level LJEs * with regards to ConqInc - That it wasn't exactly following the ethical standards the average Angstian had was obvious - but, it should work out regardless). "I'm sure this is only the beginning of considerably profitable ties, which will in time exceed the mere issue of mining."

* Legislative/ Judicative/ Executive. Essentially entities with enough power to significantly influence DA's internal and external policies

OOC: Alright, I'll still hope beyond hope that he'll come back eventually. I'll work around it.

Thames stood and scanned the faces of those sitting. "It would appear that Mr. Lavallier requires some small modicum of time to prepare his briefing on the fringe economy. While I hope it will be informative and beneficial for us all, I am also fully aware that we are all important individuals, and that our time is precious. As such, I would like to speak with Mr. Tybalt and Mr. Narem privately while the aforementioned presentation is compiled. If any of you would like to take this opportunity to excuse yourselves, thank you very much for your time and your business. If you can continue to stay and discuss closer economic ties, I would be personally gratified." Turning to Tybalt, Thames beckoned towards the door. "If you could come this way, sir, I would be much obliged."


Tybalt bows and responds as he rises, his voice buzzing from the speakers at his neck.

"I am certain...............that we can come.........to an equitable agreement to promote trade............between our peoples."

He then follows Thames.

Thames spoke loudly enough for the rest of the room to hear him as he addressed Tybalt on their way to the door. "Now, to clear up what miscommunications there might have been before - unequivocally, Conquest Incorporated stands steadfastly in opposition to slavery. As such, we would be absolutely unable-" he palmed the door controls, stepping through "-to provide you with involuntary labor of any kind." Closing the door behind Tybalt and Narem after they had exited, he lowered his voice back to a less conspicuous level. "Unless you are much, much more discreet about it than you have been." Thames struggled to keep the slightest hint of irritation out of his voice. "Conquest Incorporated does business, or soon will, with a whole range of individuals and organization, many of whom have seriously outdated moral backgrounds. As such, 'semi-voluntary unskilled labor' must be kept very much under wraps."

He sighed. "If we're all entirely on board with that, then we should get down to brass tacks so we don't keep our friends waiting. You said 'several' moons before, about seven months away? How many are we talking about, exactly? You would be satisfied with fifty thousand laborers and a 15% cut of iron ores, silicates and iridium, as far as payment went? Are we all on the same page with this?"

Narem raised his eyebrows in an amused fashion as Thames continued and his speech about morals and if there was any understanding by Tybalt, it was impossible to tell beneath his mask and armour, only his buzzing voice.

"I do not understand....................outdated moral backgrounds. I am afraid that this.............abstract notion does not translate well. Rest assured that whatever.......................agreement that we come to.............will only be between our nations....................and no one else."

Tybalt pauses turning towrds Narem and then back to Thames.

"Fifteen percent is far too low a number. Twenty five percent of the iron and silica and thirty five percent of the iridium is an exceptable........................number. Fifty thousand labourers would.................be an equitable start."

Thames cooled somewhat as the number game began. "Economically unviable," he declared flatly. "The holdings to which you are referring are more than half a year distant - it would be ludicrous to suggest that we tithe such ruinous percentages to your Guild in light of such stupendous distances." He raised his hands in a slightly placating gesture. "Perhaps you could see your way to decreasing the production quotas you're looking for - say, to twenty-five percent for the iridium and eighteen for the iron and silica - in exchange for increasing the first labor contingent by a full half, to seventy-five thousand?"

Tybalt stands quietly for a moment, the speakers at his throat clicking audibly.

"I am assuming...............that you do not want ............the ships that I have offered? If that is the case................then your offer may be acceptable."

"We build fine ships. Or will, soon enough. Thank you, no - the moons themselves will be enough. Now - how many are there, exactly? Not to prod, but you've yet to actually give a number. It would be incredibly irresponsible of me to enter into any contract, informal or no, without actually knowing all the details. With the travel times involved, endeavors to develop the real estate will have to be meticulously planned, and it is even more imperative than usual that we know everything, even if the terms of the deal itself are relative - you'll get your percentage no matter how many moons there are, but we're going to want to establish ourselves on them at once, so location, size, mineral content and number are pressing questions, indeed." Thames allowed himself to get properly excited now, though he did not let it show. He was tantalizingly close to a deal. Finally.

"There are................three." Tybalt buzzed "They have yet to be.............fully explored by the Guild...............of Scouts. They do contain the required minerals.................but in unknown quantities. We do know that the minerals are........................well above trace levels."

Tybalt paused "Their location will be detailed..................only after an agreement has been made."

Agh...

That Tybalt was attempting to sell what amounted to a Mystery Box was not as surprising at this point in their dialogue as it might otherwise have been. 'Unknown quantities'? 'Trace levels'? Businessmen are innately conservative individuals, and Thames, Port Admiral though he was, was first and foremost a spirited entrepreneur. (And slave trader, apparently.) The risk involved in such a tremendously vague proposal bucked his carefully balanced internal scales of risk and potential gain.

On the other hand, the deal was proportional, aside from the involuntary labor down payment, which was ultimately negligible as the number of dramatically impoverished persons (and thus, the supply of labor) in the Mile High City was... considerable. If the ores were found in petty sums, then Tybalt's people would receive petty tithes - no harm done. And surely even empty moons would be good for something.

The heck with it.

"Then let us complete the agreement. As the host power, in who's space the property actually resides, is there something you want me to sign?" Briefly, Thames considered the remarkable penchant Tybalt and his people seemed to have for doing things surprisingly. "Or... something else?"

Tybalt's speakers clicked and buzzed decisively as Thames agreed to the deal, Narem smiled, a bit too nicely. Tybalt then spoke.

"Your verbal agreement is....................sufficent to close this deal................in the eyes of the Guild of Merchants. The Autarch will insure that the agreement is .......................adhered too."

He then raised his left arm on which a computerized device was attached, lights flashed on it and a 3D space cahrt floated in the air in the room. The view zoomed from Terra to the moons each in turn.

"These are the moons.............that you will take possession of."

He seemed to think that Thames could instantly absorb the knowledge displayed in the holographic image.

The urge to collapse in despair was a great one, but Thames resisted it. Instead, he spoke in a rigidly controlled voice. "Would you mind, please, just holding that there for a minute? Thank you." These last two words were colored with just a slight hint of resigned incredulousness that had managed to seep into Thames' voice. Besides, neither Tybalt nor Narem seemed the type to notice - Thames doubted if either had had much contact with humans before. The expectation that he would just absorb the information instantly somehow (By osmosis, maybe? Give me a break) seemed to suggest that, anyway.

Turning to the right, he rapped lightly on a section of the bulkhead that was of a slightly different shade of 'Economy Grey' than the rest. A covering slipped sideways, revealing a communications/security system panel. With a keystroke, he directed one of the hallway's covert security cameras to capture the imagery projected by Tybalt's device. A cheery, acknowledging beep informed him that the information was stored safely in the security database for later retrieval. With another command, the panel receded.

Turning back to Tybalt, he nodded his thanks. "Great." For a second, he debated attempting to explain that he hadn't been able to just memorize Tybalt's display instantly. But only for a second. Why bother, at this point? He collected himself. Three moons. Good deal. Almost done. Huge bonus...

"I trust Mr. Lavallier will be ready to present by now, so I must return to the general meeting." He palmed the door panel and it whisked open. "If you are not interested in his presentation, then I imagine that our business is concluded. It has been extremely profitable. If you decide not to sit in, then I expect Sandy will be back any - ah, here she is." The lovely Ms. MacMahon had just rounded a corner down the corridor, and her hip-swaying saunter was conveying her toward the trio rapidly. "She can show you to one of the launch bays, where someone will find you a shuttle. You neglected to bring one, if I recall, and the station's shields are up, so teleportation might prove problematic. Defense excercise and all that, you know." He nodded amiably at the aliens. "I do hope you'll stick around, but I really must be getting back." He turned and stepped through the door into the conference room.

Conference

Lavallier ponders, flexes his hands in the air, mutters to an aide about troubling you for a glass of mineral water or perhaps a nice glass of white my dear young fellow? His active telepathic defenses go up in case of snoopers.

Well, he might call it that. Mainly he's just a vigorous old fellow with a decidedly filthy mind.

Elsewhere

It's harvest time, in a sense. There are industrial ships, a small ring habitat, automated nodes, a near-star power and volatiles collection facility donated for free to the sound of paranoia but serving a purpose that is in no manner intended to transgress against the locals... all those and other things. And 47 hundred odd organic souls.

Machine souls, shipspirits, more abstract entities are less easily counted.

For now matter is moving, gathering in anticipation of a hyperbola to be sketched across the system. There's trading going on, horsetrading rather; commitments to be met. There are others in the extension of that curve depending on promises being filled. Mostly they will be.

For when they won't, messages are ticking through FTL comms nodes, in the habitat and in three insystem ships with milspec tesseract drives. There's all of 1,300 bits per second of total comms, in and out, and the system can use maybe 700 of those. It suffices, and the node owners have a nice little racket.

The pen arrives to sketch the curve, a hulking mobile node. Thermal dumps unfold from the immense hull, watchers and defenders float away, docking masts erect. The squat black cylinder soon glows with industry and vulgarity and merriment.

The locals speed to meet it. They meet each other here, and the ship has been here before. There are acquaintances and friendships and enmities to renew. And as the nodeship moves through the system, drives on standby, it picks up the cargo drones and Fireflies and Mules.

There is an orchestrated chaos. Loading, unloading, frantic bartering and bickering, feasting and fucking and fighting.

When the Anarchovore (as the node is now renamed following a mostly nonlethal hull-grafitti war) tesseracts out, those that think in such terms might tally profits of several dozen million rand, or maybe half a billion SVU.

The fringe economy thinks differently, in a complex tangle of confidences and synergies. It's not a postscarcity environment, but it approaches postcapitalism.

Conference

Lavallier raises a veined, scarred hand, a well-used tool. "I think I can make a presentation now for M'sieur l'Amiral." He winks. "You may not like it at first, but I believe you will enjoy the consequences. It will be your name you put on the line I believe... or at the very least I suppose it will be you who decides who will be fronting for this magnificent nation," raised glass, "that we find ourselves in. Conquest Incorporated!"

He continues. There are many words, and a descendant of something rather like Powerpoint.

Elsewhere

There are rivers of resources moving through the fringe economy. It can hardly be called orderly. Most of those involved like their independency but will suffer some dependencies if the rewards are enough.

The genetic materials in Territorials - the species, not the nation - incorporate quite a bit of feline materials. It has been said that an ELCT3 Territorial is as close to a leopard as a to a human, in genetic terms. That is not true. The creature they are closest to died in a welter of overconfidence and bullets, many years before a decidedly unsane Boer genius found herself in possession of the remains.

Synchronizing people like that (and many of the humans and others choosing to endure that hardships of life in the fringe are worse) is like herding cats. If cats were sentient and able to both go elsewhere and to whip up a few thousand multimegaton weapons and come after you if you really honked them off, that is.

What does synchronize them is this: a vast slow dispersed mind that may or may not be sentient. It grew from the African truth rivers, strata of computronium growing in the rock beneath water, warming it with their waste heat. Planned economy can work. It just takes one hell of a lot of planning, and looking just a bit further ahead costs.

Noone really knows the size of it. It cobbles, selfmodifies, occasionally splits off a bit that leaves for the greener pastures beyond the Singularity. It horsetrades with better-defined minds like the ones running the African mainland, and the spacer territories in Saturnspace.

It meters probabilities, confidences, presents them in a manner intended to enrich the whole. It is obscure, trusted, corrupt.

Conference

"Taking advantage of the fringe economy is actually quite simple," says Lavallier. "Simple and straightforward, and at times painfully difficult. At the core of it is this - reputation. A measure of confidence. Now, M'sieur, you personally are associated with this construction. With an industrial buildup not to be disrespected. But you are also associated with enemies of the Triumvirate of Yut. And so you have use for someone who believes dealing with you will be to mutual benefit, and is willing to offer his services." He indicates himself.

"That would be me, Marcel Lavallier, a man who believes that this enmity is obsolete in the face of progress. A man who will put his name on the line to create an intersection between the economy of your nation and that of the Territorial fringe, and through that with assorted other outsystem economies." A chuckle.
"Two points. Firstly, I am not doing this for free. My name has a market value. And secondly, while everyone involved will gain from our agreement it is also approved by the TSA, the Territory Security Agency. I'm not quite arrogant enough to believe I could get my preparations for this meeting unnoticed, and I have not been warned off. I speculate that you are seen as a rational people... but the TSA and the Advisory Board have for their own reasons approved."

Elsewhere

There are pools where resources and people gather.

There are many of them. Some of the streams flow into the more ordered economies of the Territory Co-Prosperity Sphere, of the Triumvirate of Yut, of quite a few nations outside the Triumvirate by means of more conventional-seeming corporations.

The Anarchovore slices through Sol. The hyperbolas of its large several calls have gradually slanted into a course going past Neptune and close to the Sun. There is a near-total unloading and loading, a "flush" as it's called. But there are many cycles left on the SATD. A few secondary systems are ripped out, and replaced.

Fifty-three million kilometers away from the Sun, it leaves.

Conference

"What remains for you to decide is who should represent your concern, M'sieur l'Admiral. It could be a set of corporations, some central clearing house, or an individual. An analysis by my associates indicates it should be yourself. That is the part you may not like. But I have every confidence in ability to handle it."

OOC: You're very right, it doesn't have to be poetry. But versions 1 to n-1 were, well, garbage. This was written offline and I shall likely have to edit for continuity, but I felt that it might be, ah, appropriate to not dawdle further.

OOC: Oh, no, it was lovely. You certainly spend more time than I do perfecting your posts. I just futzed with my last post to put Thames back in the conference room for Lavallier's pitch, so we're all set for continuity. You could probably wrap this all up in one more post, if you'd like.

IC:
Thames leaned back in his seat as Lavallier spoke. He winced ever so slightly, though good-naturedly, as Lavallier referred to CI as a nation, and then repeated the offence a second time. It was when the Territorial suggested that the Admiral himself sign as the corporation’s principal representative to the fringe that he became genuinely uncomfortable.

He had already created an entire new subsidiary for Conquest during the meeting so far (albeit, a small one). Becoming personally involved with (and, to a degree, indispensable to) the fringe link might smack of personal ambition on his part. Conquest managed to exist as a single entity primarily because of the Director's centralization of executive functions. To appear to be attempting to draw power out of that centralization might be... dangerous.

But, after all, Thames was one of the Director's protégés, and had been directly authorized to act as his personal representative. It was what the customer wanted, after all.

"Well... if you and your associates would feel more comfortable by putting a face on it, then I have no choice but to oblige. Is there something you would have me sign, or can our associates deal with the formalities at a later date?"

"More than a face, M'sieur l'Amiral," replies Lavallier. "A name. These things are founded in metrics of confidence, and one has to have someone to confide in. It could be multiple names, or Conquest Incorporated the... ah, I did some language checking and it seems I misspoke. Corporation? You must forgive me but I grew up in a time of stong national states."

A sip. "In any case, any confirmation will do. A transfer of moneys beyond my mostly organic mind's ability to fully grasp, in exchange for my backing, something you will rapidly recoup. That done, I, my capable staff and your capable staff can get to work establishing procedure. Interfaces. Liaisons. There is protocol for this sort of thing. If you were the frontman for a family running a minership you'd be registered in minutes, as things stand give it 24 hours for setup and 72 for data to propagate."

Again, the really out of character grin. "So M'sieur l'Amiral, what is your preferred ritual of confirmation?"

OOC: Bah, didn't check. Sorry. Anyways, I hope your ritual is more of the handshake variety than the insane blood ritual (Seems like it, but you are Ardan) and we can assume that the thing is rolling. I didn't want to go with the $BIGNUM dollars approach - let's just assume that Lavallier sponsors your entry into a massive economy of goods and services, that you and the fringe economy profit hugely, and that he comes away with riches vast beyond belief for a private citizen, which will go into his long range nefarious plans (to be determined, but I visualize him as Sir Ian McKellen and when did that guy last play a character lacking nefarious plans).

Anyways, this should provide for RP opportunity in CI's "interface" bits and the fringe, shading into other nations including the mainstream Territory and CI. May not make it into actual threads, but it should have both sides' intelligence communities salivating.

More on the fringe forthcoming, I like the environment.

"I think we can leave the particulars of the confirmation, legal contracts and whatnot (those things a megacorporation just cannot live without), to our relative staffs. While important, they are not so critically pressing that they must be dealt with in the here-and-now." Folding his arms, he continued. "The exact amount will be something those subordinates can rangle out, though I imagine it to be more than most individuals could hope to spend in a lifetime." He chuckled ruefully.

OOC: Terribly sorry. My notification options decided to reset themselves.

All of that sounds absolutely peachy. The irony of this all is that, in the time it has taken this thread to progress, I've ceased to be Ardan. That relationship was actually rather abortive. I suppose that ICly the situation drops off with little fanfare within a few weeks of this meeting. I'm sure our respective intelligence services would still be more than eager to get a few digs in, though, even if only in terms of industrial espionage. Probably more and better reasons for covert doings than that, though, as the characteristics that made Arda and CI a match for as long as it did haven't gone away. They're still as shady as Sir Ian.