NationStates Jolt Archive

Kewok Nor smiled as he sat at the control planet of the Assured Revenue, his Dabo girls at his sides, Dabo wheels and the other equipment of Kework’s Bar at the back of the shuttle, his fursuit folded and hung on the wall, himself wearing what appeared to be black, metal-inlayed clothing.

He has achieved what could possibly be the best contract of his life – the running of the bar at Sol-One, the Extra-Solar Union of States’ diplomatic station in Sol. Diplomats would pour money into his pockets and onto his Dabo wheels. He would be rich and prosperous, and perhaps would be finally able to expand his business.

But before that happened, Kewok Nor had to perform one important duty.

He was responsible for the sending out of the invitations and the running of the big party that would signify the opening of Sol One As such, all sorts of delicious foodtypes were now ordered for the station. The invitations were sent out. He could now rest – except the nagging thought that his career as a bartender’s hinged on this part.

We’re approaching Sol One. Ready to dock to station.

“Very well, girls, get the dabo gear, let’s unpack before the guests arrive!”

And so it began.

Cruising in the orbit Pluto took around the sun, though the planetoid was rather far away at this point, the CSS Mjölnir altered course at the invitation and made best speed for the station. And, for once, a Dreadnought from Crimmond actually was responding to a signal, sending a standard acknowledgement.

When the ship arrived at the station, it chose not to dock directly, but to send a shuttle which would. The shuttle was a general purpose one that many nations used, fitted with a universal docking ring, which would rearrange itself to fit most any docking configuration.

Once the shuttle docked, it took two tries to get the ring to configure itself right and all the right lights to turn green, the doors open and a man wearing a beret, aviators and an armored coat stepped out, leaning heavily on a steel cane. That was neccesary because he lacked his left foot. He was obviousky well into his sixties, by his deteriorating looks and his dyed goatee, but the two Emperor's Gaurd Marines, distinguished by the gold and red markings on their uniforms, escorting him shown him to be something more than just an old man come for free food at a party.

http://usera.imagecave.com/Alpha-Zero/HighCommander.jpg

Lieutenant Vincent Horan was force to catch himself as the shuttle lurched as it made another pass around Sol: One. Horan couldn’t help but stare out at the station as it went by. Most people when they looked out over Sol: One could help but see the historical significance of such a thing, not Horan. He viewed the station with nothing short of utter distain, and maybe even to some degree, hatred.

Graduating at the top of class at the military academy, he was truly the best that Tappee’s military had to offer. However, at least in Horan’s mind, this assignment was a waste of his talent. The war was still being fought against the 4th Imperium, and from what he was hearing from the front, the island of Clairmont was near falling. Surely he was more need elsewhere, this assignment came more as an insult. He had been given some meaningless assignment, he would do his time at Sol: One, then try to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Again the shuttle lurch, this time it was caused by the shuttle making its final approach to the station.

In order to avoid disturbing a certain asteroid, which contains a rare element that does interesting things to communications, we have skipped that particular section of the post.

The GateGoblin Shyp GSSS (Gayt Stashun Speedi Shyp) Oili Thunder slid through- no. "Slid" is what ships designed by races who generally think that bits dropping off in space (actually dropping off) is a bad thing. Anyway, this Shyp Clanged away in SupaSpeed, heading toward the outer reaches of the Sol System.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Boiiiing!

At the "Boiiiing!" one of the GateGoblin crew yanked the plug for the SupaDoopaEngin out of the wall socket, halting the Shyp in mid-space with a Scrreeeech that somehow manages to defy physics and can be heard in the immediate vicinity. A series of brightly coloured dials were spun, Big Green Buttons and Big Orinj Buttons pressed, and at last the plug was put back into its socket.

The Shyp started moving forward again, toward the diplomatic station.

"Switch on da raydio."

Another Big Button was pressed, and Prinz Strongand da Clevva, Hi Bozz uv Gayt Stashun, Admirreral uv da Gayt Fleet, Ovaseein' Pursun uv Entry Gayt, GreatGoblin uv da Combined Goblin Collective an' son uv Hiz imperarial Majesty King Griptite da Supa, announced his presence and intent to dock to attend the diplomatic meeting.

Remiel De Drakan, Warmaster of the Imperium; Primarch son of the Emperor; bestrode the docking platform of Sol 1; flanked by Inquisitorial Stormtroopers; implemented as the standard security force throughout the station. As honor for his deeds throughout the domain of the Emperor; he had been granted the role of High Diplomat to the ESUS and other parties, and Head of Security upon Sol 1; thus his role was twofold. To gain ties to other nations; and to defend the integrity and safety of the Station and delegates. With a nod from his obsidian haired head; they moved off; forming a rough semi-circle around him as he stepped off, and down into the station proper.

He nodded to other staff as he walked; taking a moment to marvel somewhat at the architecture of the station; tracing a gauntleted hand across the wall; feeling its intricate contours; sighing softly as pleasure overode him in a wave. His altered neuralchemistry flaring to life; his eyes alive, alight with raw emotion and sensation, before he resumed his wanderings. there was much to be done; much to be gained from his being here. And his duty was only just beginning

As the shuttle re-oriented, relative to the station, and prepared to dock, Earle Aria, was finishing getting ready. Her dress was quite intricate, with the main body coming down to lower-mid thigh. Sweeping down from the shoulders, and out from the waist was an silvery opaque fabric. The black dress it's self had a modest neckline, with a eight-pointed night blue pendant artfully located.

Aria gave one last glance in the mirror, to ensure all was in place, as she contemplated the invite and missive she'd received. King James, had requested that she come to this party, and as she was able to, and enjoyed parties, she'd been quite content to do so.

The one legged man and his two escorts spoke to each other in a strange mix of Earth languages that used Russian, German, Polish and Yiddish seemingly at random.

He was by far the easiest to follow of the delegates, as he could not move very fast with his cane. He approached whatever central meeting area they were supposed to be going to and looked around.

Stupid humans. Making Gwegra Nyob-Sstad Maytos, head of maintenance, miss out on fixing the backup atmosphere purifier in storage pod three for a stupid opening ceremony. There were zero-gee hydro-wheels to be welded and faulty fan moters to be tweaked (kicked) into submission. Besides, he was sure that he'd smelled a rodent in the maintenance corridors. Anything that escaped from the biosphere was open game for the station's resident carnivors. Just because he'd graduated top of his class from the best tech scool in Rupil (with a minor in human relations), and the fourth best tech school on Earth, and the ESUS Maintenance Academy, and had completed an eight year cross-species apprenticeship, didn't mean he'd forgotten all the traditional arts.

Of course, the official diplomats from the GTK were here at this private party also. They didn't know anything about how the station actually worked, and probably couldn't care less. But he was going to impress some of those females from Telton, even if they were from a nunnery. They just happened to be the only Tkalgren women around (so far hopefully), and he needed something to keep himself occupied.

He had, of course, been with the station since its third week of construction (though he hadn't been elected maintenance head then). And so he knew a little about it, such as where there happened to be a stash of top-quality Hassa Bone Powder, and a shrine to Fortune (along with half a dozen other gods members of the construction crew had worshipped). And he also knew how to finess the food replicators to make something resembling proper Tkalgren fare, though this was mostly a skill he'd picked up while on Earth.

After retreiving a glass of a milder Tkalgren liquor from the drinks dispenser, he moved to flank Kewok Nor, station commander, as he greeted the incoming delegates.

The dabo girls ran through the partygoer crowd, fetching drinks and exotic foods on request, sometimes giving someone a semi-erotic wink, sometimes smiling as they smooched a random diplomat. In the meanwhile, the bartender quit his usual position behind the bar and approached the Crimmondian. It was part of his job here to know of the arrivals’ names and tastes – after all, wasn’t he supposed to serve them with the food of their choice?

At any rate, Kewok Nor approached the Crimmondian and smiled: “Hello, Sir. Would you like me to introduce you to the ESUS representatives? Surely, that is what you have come for?”

In the meanwhile, in a move stealthily planned by Kewok himself, one of the Dabo girls approached the Theao ambassador. “Good day. Earle Aria, I presume? I would be most honored to introduce you to the Chronosian representative right over there… I am sure you will find each other’s company most pleasing.”

The man looked at the Ferengi and then at his escort and said something in the mix of languages that made them smirk, before looking at Kewok again. "No. I'm here for the women." he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He stepped past the alien and into the room, looking around. "I am Andrew Coleman IV, High Commander of Crimmond's military during the Era of Blood that followed World War Five and Tactical Advisor to the current Emperor, Khan Delta." he says, not seeming proud or boastful of his titles. He was simply identifying himself. "Some may remember me as one of the enforcers for the first incarnation of the GDODAD... many, many years ago."

Remiel crossed the room, resplendant in silks and gilded power-armor; black and crimson, shimmering in the artificial light of the station. Runes seemed to half-dance across the exposed portions of it; as he raised a gauntleted hand to brush aside stray hairs from the near-alabaster purity of his flesh; the soul-bought perfection that shaped his entire form.

Bowing lightly, looking the Crimmondian delegate up and down; he let a smirk cross his lips; eyes dazzling pools of ocean blue. "Greetings; I am Remiel De Drakan, Warmaster of the Chronosian Imperium, High Diplomat. On behalf of the ESUS, and as acting Security Chief, welcome to Sol 1. Your reputation precedes you; your deeds have reached our ears; and I am sure you are not without account of my...Activities"

He let that smile fow across his features; moving like liquid; straightening and glancing about. "I have other duties to attend to, but I will be available later for discussions and negotiations, pertainning to the Imperium; or queries as to security matters"

Coleman hmmphs. "No. I've never heard of you. Or your Imperium." he said, the escorts chuckling until he brought up a hand and the three moved to a table, Coleman seeming quite glad to sit for a while, the bodygaurds scanning the room for threats, as all good bodygaurds would.

It should be noted that Crimmond hasn't had contact with the galaxy at large for a long, long time. Even events that have happened inside Sol come as a surprise most of the time.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to speak with the representative from Chronosia." Aria replied to the girl who greeted her.
One of the two bodyguards assigned to her protection, and general service, examined the girl with more than was strictly necessary.
With a nod, Aria excused herself from the Dabo girl and approached the Chronosian delegate. As she approached, the other bodyguard leant over and wispered into her ear.
"Greetings, Remiel, of the house De Draken?" She asked, looking him in the eye.

Remiel chuckles lightly at the passing arrogance of the Crimmondian; so sure of his own place and so...Ignorant of the other great races. He turns, coming almost face to face with Aria; an eyebrow raised lightly, sapphire orbs of eyes gleaming as his features shift into a smile.

"Indeed I am; and you would be?" He bows gently, softly; as though trying to restrain his strength; to hold himself at bay. His two bodyguards stepped back lightly; surveying the actions of their master with an almost idle fascination; ready to move should anything threaten the Primarch.

Aria meet Remiel's eyes with her own. The gold flecked green orbs sparkled as she watched his face.
"I an Aria." She replied, "From the nation of Theao." She returned his bow, revealing a moderate cleavage, as she did.

Her own two bodyguards examined Remiel's.

Slowly and cautiously Vincent made his way into the bar, it had quickly became apparent that the bar was the social hub of the station. He was wearing a standard Tappee uniform with one possible exception, the Sol: One badge that was displayed on his right shoulder just under the Tappee flag.

Scanning the room the he was quick to spot the stations Security Chief, though Vincent had yet to meet the man, he recognized him from his briefing. It looked liked he was talking to an attractive Female. Perhaps later he would have to go and introduce himself, but first there was more pressing matters.

Trying to blend in Vincent moved through the crowd and over the bar. “Excuse me, I was wondering if I could get a glass of water please.”