NationStates Jolt Archive

Tactical Core Commander, #405302 PCCITDO-OOTG, Beadwacker. He hovers in the low gravity of an OMF, waiting with some impatience while the Nexus officer worked her magic.

Like many of the older generation of Santa Barbarian officers, Murtin was not at ease with all the new technologies being introduced. Despite being appointed to the recently formed Orbital Operations Theatre Group, he wasn't at ease with being in space, either.

A lot of area for... someone to jump out when you least expect it, he mused, giving a cursory glance out the tiny viewportal to his left, as if he would be able to see a possible threat.

"MP1 has attuned sensors to probable Titan-GEO vectors," the Nexus operator announced. "No contacts yet."

He nodded, even though she was deeply engrossed with the displays and didn't notice. "Don't expect too much warning," he said. "From what we can tell, Angelan ships don't need to take a luxurious couple of months travel time."

For that matter, don't expect too much of anything, he thought. There's just about zero damn precedence for any of this.

To busy himself, TCC Beadwacker mused over his orders and data files, which he had memorized but still he went through them, bringing each one up on the console with a small laser pointer attached to his artificial left arm.

You are to work with the Angelan worldship, Tainted Truth, in the transfer of [CCC/IA goods] to our orbital facilities, and cooperate in setting up the Angelan mines on [Island 1] and orbital transport routes. In addition, to welcome Angelan diplomats and technicians in our Obs and MicroMan/Res modules. Follow [protocol]. Negotiate, if required, details of partial command of Angelan transport.

Recalling it again didn't help to make it any easier. He couldn't understand why Bob Pratt, who was as close to a friend as his personality allowed, would delegate this job to him. He was not diplomatic and preferred to lead men into battle. For as long as I'm able, a thought occured to him. Maybe this is a hint that it won't be as long as I hoped.

"Thoughts, Specific?" he asked the young officer. His voice boomed in the nearly empty OMF.

"Many, sir," she replied, stopping her obsessive scanning for long enough to look at him.

"Not scared, though?"

She paused slightly. "A little uneasy, sir."

"Don't worry," he said, and sighed. "MP1 estimates likelihood of combat to be very low, and so does the Chief Executive."

"That's comforting, sir," she said with a nod, and then went back to data surfing.

A wry grin formed on his face. If only diplomacy were as comforting as combat.

(tag for later post)

As promised, the massive Tainted Truth (http://www.silentrequiem.net/angelus/fallen.html) slides back into realspace above Santa Barbara. Its powerful retrojets flare a brilliant blue as they slow the vessal to a smooth stop.

###BEGIN TRANSMISSION###
~>Route: Automata X1 - Angelus Mainframe - TCC Beadwacker
:
{Greetings from Angelus, Commander. We have arrived to persue our}
{arrangement, I hope everything is satisfactory?}
{We have brought along several Kaenian technicians to assist in your development}
{of mechanical engineering as We assist in upgrading your systems. The Kaenians}
{are some of the most masterful mechanics in known space, and as they are}
{human, We feel that their explinations would benefit you better than Ours.}
{They will be showing you Angelic technology, and how to integrate the needed}
{mechanisms into your systems. Better than that, however, they will reveal}
{the secrets of some of the manufacturing, so that you may replicate the enhancements}
{as needed.}
:
~>Route closed
###END TRANSMISSION###

---
http://www.silentrequiem.net/littlexan.jpg (http://www.silentrequiem.net/angelus)
Automata X1
First-of-Thirteen


http://www.silentrequiem.net/triumvirate/images/trium_insig.gif (http://www.silentrequiem.net/triumvirate/)
Membership: Triumvirate of Yut, Ur Trade Pact, Deus Ex Humana Consortium

"Jesus. That was fast," comments the Specific, forgetting her place in her amazement.

"That would be them," Beadwacker says, nodding.

"You've got a message. Patching it down to you."

Beadwacker reads a moment. "Kaenian mechanics. It appears the upgrades will take place sooner than expected."

The Nexus operator asks, "Should I work out the arrangements for their welcome aboard OMF City?"

"Yes. And contact the leading researchers, who I'm sure will be very anxious to meet them. Make preparations for a conference after the formalities are over. And, inform the Angelans that we are now go for docking procedures up here, and construction down below."

Murtin reflects on the prospects of listening to the techs babble on with each other. Not just PCC techs either. His stomach churned. Hopefully I can just excuse myself out of that exciting session.

-

<Initializing Secure Transmission...>

<CONFIDENTIALITY: RECEIVER ONLY>
<INTEGRITY: UNCOMPROMISED>
<AUTHENTICATION: JJ-01QCE GLEIM2>
<SENDER: TCC Murtin Beadwacker>
<VERIFICATION: COMPLETE>
<BODY:

Well met, Tainted Truth. I look forward to meeting your technicians in the exciting project of upgrading our technologies. This will be an unparalleled leap ahead for the Santa Barbarian people and a worthy exchange between us. In the meantime, I have been assigned to cooperate with your country in at least an advisory role aboard your worldship. I suspect that this is merely a formality; I have no desire nor inclination towards commanding an Angelan vessel.
>

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/santa_barbara.jpg

Well met, Tainted Truth. I look forward to meeting your technicians in the exciting project of upgrading our technologies. This will be an unparalleled leap ahead for the Santa Barbarian people and a worthy exchange between us. In the meantime, I have been assigned to cooperate with your country in at least an advisory role aboard your worldship. I suspect that this is merely a formality; I have no desire nor inclination towards commanding an Angelan vessel.

###BEGIN TRANSMISSION###
~>Route: Automata X1 - Angelus Mainframe - TCC Beadwacker
:
{Your position in the Tainted Truth will grant you the opportunity to see}
{wonders that your people have never thought possible. It is a chance for}
{you to expand your own horizons, to understand the infinity of the Universe.}
{It is not just a formality, my friend.}
{The Truth will continue on its way, and the engineers & technicians}
{will begin their work as soon as possible.}
:
~>Route closed
###END TRANSMISSION###

---
Automata X1
First-of-Thirteen

Membership: Triumvirate of Yut, Ur Trade Pact, Deus Ex Humana Consortium

[OOC: Passage of time... sorry bout that, but it fits with the plot too.]

<Initializing Secure Transmission...>

<CONFIDENTIALITY: RECEIVER ONLY>
<INTEGRITY: UNCOMPROMISED>
<AUTHENTICATION: JJ-01QCE GLEIM2>
<SENDER: SSCC Toby Pratt>
<VERIFICATION: COMPLETE>
<BODY:

TCC Beadwacker;

Update report required regarding [Island 1] status. In particular, our geologists are wondering how long metal resources on [Island 1] will hold out under the current Angelan extraction rates. Key aspects of original deal remain in question; it may become an imperative for you to come to an understanding with the Angelans directly about time and material limits to said deal. Don't say I didn't warn you, Murt.
http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/santa_barbara.jpg

--

Murtin sighed after reading the message. It was the first from General Pratt he'd received in the months since the mission began, and it only hinted at worse to come. Negotiate? Come to an understanding? None of this was covered by protocol, and he was seriously considering putting a request for some sort of assistance...

...which would get turned down, naturally. Between the two Pratts, he felt a vaguely fatherly attitude from each; it was as if they wanted him to "build character."

'In particular, our geologists are wondering how long metal resources on [Island 1] will hold out under the current Angelan extraction rates.'

Well, that part wasn't so bad at least. He could do that. Of course, the "geologists" were undoubtedly nagging voices at the Board of Directors, in some landbased office on the great blue orb outside and below.

Waving on the VR interface to the Nexus system, using his bionic left arm, he began his inquiry to Automata X1, First-of-Thirteen, for the puzzled Santa Barbarian geologists. He hoped he wouldn't have to have another talk with the Kaenians; his head was already hurting enough for 3 in the solar morning.

ooc: Not to worry about time passage.

Also, remember that Angelus is not just extracting metallic ore, but is extracting everything around the central vein. Ore is the most useful, but Angelus uses everything.

ic:

Xanone's cspace consciousness turns its head as the communique from Santa Barbara comes through. [Internal] Interesting. His query sounds concerned...

He shrugs, and allows the cspace connection to fill his mind.

~*~

He is sitting in a quiet study, the lights dim, a roaring fire in the fireplace. He is sitting in a highbacked leather chair, turned slightly towards the fire, its twin sitting across a small oriental rug and turned similarly. A small table stands between the two chairs, and a two steaming cups of tea are situated upon its smoothly polished surface, and a hardbacked book lays closed before them, the words "The Art of War" stenciled in fading gold across its binding.

Xan is dressed in a smooth black uniform, silver epulets and a small silver cross situated at his throat are the only decoration breaking the strict uniform black.

The door is about 25 meters from the fireplace, and it opens into a rather vacant space. A few paces in, and the wall on the left opens into a recessed bar, a tall liquer cabinet reaching from floor to ceiling, a low bar situated before it, with three barstools before that.

The right, far, and left (after the bar) walls are lined with bookshelves, and tomes from countless cultures in countless languages fill their extensive shelves.

In the space before the chairs is a small reading desk, another higbacked chair sitting perfectly before it, its small lamp off.

Xanone looks up as Murtin enters, a smile curving the corners of his lips. "Hello, Murtin. It is good to see you again. Please, have a seat."

He waits until his guest has done so, and he motions towards the cup of tea near him as way of invitation. "So, what brings you into my world?"

"'Ello, Xanone," says TCC Beadwacker, taking a seat. "Thank you, and likewise."

So, what brings you to my world? he is asked.

"The Art of War," Murtin reads aloud, grasping the tea cup. "Oh no, I didn't mean thats a response," he laughs, seeing the possible misunderstanding immediately. "I see you are also a student of Sun Tzu; it is good to learn from the dead as well as the living, no?"

Pompous twaddle, his mind tells him. Remember why you are here, so lets not waste our time.

"Well, I have been instructed to, how shall I put it, come to an understanding between the original deal and its specifics," he admits. "Apparently I am not told everything, but, more surprisingly, Mister Pratt was not aware of all the details at the time of signing. So, I suppose this is just... a bureacratic clarification session, as it were."

He is clearly uncomfortable with his situation, however, and he adds hastily, "I have no troubles telling you, of course, that I'd rather be assigned a different role in orbit. A military man taken out of the military context is like a muscle which is allowed to deteriorate."

"Come now, my friend. It cannot be truely bad, now can it? You are stationed on a military vessel, not a leisure liner. Enjoy the opportunities that Cspace has to offer, run simulations, hone up on any form of personal combat you desire. If you want to, I am sure that historical naval and spacial battles can be prepared for you to take part in."

Xanone smiles slightly.

"But, I can understand how you would be uncomfortable with Us. It is not truely your place. However, you are always welcome here, and to someday (perhaps) to visit Our Disc.

Perhaps there, you would feel more at home."

He crosses his legs, and closes another ancient book which lays open upon his lap. He sets it down atop the copy of "The Art of War", and the stenciled lettering reads "A Book of Five Rings." - Miyamoto Musashi.

"Come now, explain this bureaucracy to me, and let us get the formalities out of the way."

"It's not as bad as that, no. I would definitely enjoy using the Simulators you have," Murtin says, the inner child in him grinning at the thought of how much better the Angelan simulations would be to anything he had ever used growing up, or in the 6-month basic training.

Murtin is uncomfortable admitting his own discomfort caused by the alien nature of Cspace [OOC: whats that?] and the Angelans themselves. He glosses over it, admitting he would also enjoy visiting the World Disc. In this he is not lying, but he says this more in recognition of his curiosity and the novelty of the famous station than a genuine desire.

He notes the Book of Five Rings. It's almost as if he's been into my personal library or something, he thinks. Ah well, at least I don't have to lapse into bureau-speak here.

"Well Xanone, if I understood the bureacracy, I suppose I really would have a different post than this!" he says with a laugh. "But, as I understand it, the PCC leadership is merely impatient. They want to know how much longer the Angelan operation on the island will continue. I imagine that the Worldships appearing in orbit are causing some international worries with Santa Barbara's partners in the Devils Desert, too, but of course, I have not been told this."

He brings the tea cup to his lips and takes a healthy sip. "Earl Grey!" he exclaims, surprised. "And a good flavor in it, too."

ooc: Cspace is a slang term for "cyberspace" (at least in this usage). I think the word was first coined by the SF Author Larry Niven, but I am not entirely certain.

Angelic Cspace environments are like hypercomplex websites that allow the user to fully enter into whatever situation the Environment calls for. Very much like the holodeck on ST:TNG, but done via intercranial feed and not projected-force holograms.

ic:

"I see." Xanone rests his elbows on the armrests of the chairs and steeples his fingers before his face. "I assume that the Santa Barbaran government is getting some heavy pressure to be rid of Us?"

He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. We are far from depleting the resources available to Us on the Island, but We can be gone within two hours, leaving only a grated hole to mark Our passing. What say you?"

Xanone notices Murtin's interest in the BoFR, and he smiles. "We actually have several ancient truecopies on the WorldDisc, as well as several other ancient texts. Perhaps I could arrange for a copy of Mushashi's Rings to be sent to you?"

OOC: Ah, okay. :D
IC:

Murtin laughs at the mention of the Santa Barbarian government, which is of course almost completely nonexistant. He says, "Ah, yes, well I think the idea is that the CEO does not wish you gone prematurely, that is, the deal must be completed first. I think essentially, they want a timeframe or deadline or such. I'm not sure, but they might have plans for the island once you're done with it- thats all I can think of, anyway."

A true copy of the Book of Five Rings? "I'm not terribly sentimental-- but I would be honored to receive such a copy."

Xanone sighs and stands up. "Well then." He reaches over and picks up the saucer and cup. He pauses for just a moment, then motions for Murtin to follow him over to the bar.

He steps behind it and sets the teacup down on the smoothly polished blackmarble surface of the bar, and turns to ponder the liquer racks. "I think that I shall have a little scotch." He selects a rather ancient-looking bottle and takes out the glass stopper. He holds the decanter up to his nose and takes a short sniff of the contents, a slow smile spreading across his face.

He grins impishly at Murtin and pours a goodly amount into his tea, then holds the decanter up as an offer to his guest and friend.

Murtin nods wordlessly- sure, why not?- as he stands, back rigidly straight, near the bar. A scotch appears quite favorable to the old soldier. Naturally, he will never drink as much as to dampen his senses. He is a soldier, yes, but an old one, and could no more get smashed on duty than stick his head up foolishly while under heavy enemy fire.

"Let us drink to the continued friendship between the Conglomerate and Angelus," he exclaims.

Xanone checks himself and merely smiles at him. "Relax, Murtin. We are friends, you and I. I am not going to try and slip you anything dangerous. You are perfectly safe here, and I get visitors so rarely that I try to make these visits as casual as possible."

He grabs a glass from under the bar and drops a few icecubes in it from the freezer. He pours a slightly more measured amount into the glass and swirls it around a bit. He hands the small glass to Murtin, and then lifts his own teacup.

"To the continued relations."

He takes a sip, then sets the glass down on the bar top. "Now, to foster those continued relations..." He taps his chin with a forefinger and ponders. "How about an increase of royalties from the mine to the Corporation?"

He rewards Xanone with a smile in return. Instead of replying, he drinks the scotch; it is hard, but old and good- he hadn't expected poison, of course. He sets the cup down with an audible, almost-too-loud clink on the bar surface.

"I can certainly bring such a proposal to ChiefExCom," he says. He has loosened up somewhat, though one would have to be looking very closely to notice a change. "While I am not authorized explicitly to redefine the deal drastically, I imagine an increase in royalties to the Conglomerate will be most acceptable. But, they will expect something in return-- what do you ask of us?"

Hmm, he hasn't addressed how long they plan to stay, he thinks to himself. Just remember to get an answer before this is through. Remember your objective, soldier.

"We do not particularily want anything more than what We are getting. We just prefer to make all business transactions as clean as possible. If that means a slight decrease in Our own rewards, so be it."

He takes another sip of his tea, letting the tingletouch of the Scotch burn as it slides down his throat.

He sighs then, and sets the teacup back down on the bar. "We expect to have completed Our mining operations there within two years. After that, We may attempt to negotiate an extension, but that is not certain."

Two years. And an increase in profits. Well, they certainly know how to appeal to Bob Pratt, that's for sure. Out loud, Murtin says, "In that case, a slight increase in royalties is more than acceptable. It should make my employer happy."

He thinks a moment, interpreting Xanone's sigh. "I think, were an extension to made on the deal, I would be assigned to bring the terms to the table with you again. You should know, Xanone, that I do regard you as a friend."

Xanone sighs softly and offers to refill Murtin's glass.

"Thank you, Murtin... Being the head of Angelus means I have many many sons and daughters, but few genuine friends." He sighs again, and places his teacup in the cleaner before grabbing a small tumbler. He fills it with ice and a generous amount of Scotch and relaxes against the bar.

"Well, what do you think about a possible extension? You think Mr. Pratt would be interested?"

"It is my honor," the Tactical Core Commander says, moving the glass to receive a second fill of the perfectly rendered Scotch. He is quite happy now that his negotiation skills are, for the moment, no longer the basis of his fulfilling his duty.

He gives a laugh. "I can't speak for Bob Pratt directly," he says, "but in all the years that I've known him, he has never been one to turn down a potential deal."

He has overstated the matter here a bit. He is more familiar with SSCC Toby Pratt's personality than Bob. The formidable CEO is indeed never one to turn down a potential deal-- but Murtin knows him really only through his brother.

He takes a more healthy swig of the brownish liquor. "I believe he is currently attending the coronation of the new Empress of the Empire of the Eternal Dawn right now. If you like, I can bring your terms to my commander, who will bring them to old Bob, and perhaps something can be worked out."

Xanone nods and offers up another toast. "To an excellent meeting among friends."

He takes a generous sip, and sets the glass down. "Now, did I ever tell you about that time on Hegira where the X-series was first told of..."