NationStates Jolt Archive

Jharkhand Province
Iansislean Gallaga

One last crate was stacked inside the Bankfield and tied down carefully. "Awright, Tom, she's ready!" shouted the loader, tossing a quick salute up to the flyer's pilot.

"Thanks, Bernie!" was the return shout. As the ground crew ran clear, the Bankfield's massive engines roared to life, powering the transflyer down the hastily constructed runway. Slowly, he pulled back on the yoke and the Bankfield rose into the air. If there was anything consistent about the long-running line of Bankfield aeroflyers, it was their complete lack of grace on takeoffs and landings. Once in the air, however, they handled like sports cars - or, at least as much a flyer the size of a heavy bomber could.

"Right mysterious mission we're on, eh?" asked his co-pilot.

"Aye," replied the navigator from the back. On his desk was spread maps of eastern and southern Gallaga, and a large map of the entire western Gallagan Ocean was tacked above it. "Come about ninety three degrees starboard when we hit the delta, Tom," he added.

"I have flown this route before, Dean," shot back the pilot, a touch of indignation in his voice.

"We aren't going to Ceyloba, though," Dean reminded him. "Madagascar's a good deal further."

"Pah," waved Tom. "We still have to fly right over Ceyloba, don't we?"

"We oughta buzz the Jessica," cut in the co-pilot, "See how their repairs are going."

"Heh. Give those nautical knuckleheads the RIFC's greetings, wot?" laughed Dean. "That'd be fun, eh, Tom?"

Tom's voice was very solemn and serious. "As your commanding officer, I have to say no, and chide you both for even thinking it." He grinned suddenly. "But it would be funny as hell."

The three continued to chatter idly as the Bankfield hit the delta of the Subarnarekha River, turning slowly to the south-west and continuing on its way. The Bankfield Mk.III had very long legs and was carrying a relatively light load - they weren't planning on stopping at all before reaching Walmingtonish Madagascar nearly four thousand miles away.

At last, Dean asked the question that was on everyone's mind: "Say, what do you suppose they're doin' down in Anta...Antananana...Madagascar, anyway, with twelve crates of..." He peered backwards to check the label, "Uranium ore?"

Royal Standard University
Ianapalis, Iansisle, the Commonwealth

Dr. Norman Morris, Head of Fissionable Research at R.S.U., looked around his laboratory one last time before shutting off the lights and hefting a heavy briefcase. He walked out briskly, only to nearly run smack into a dumpy looking man in a bad suit.

"Dr. Gordon. What a ... pleasure to see you again. I did so enjoy our talk at the ball last month."

"Likewise, Dr. Morris," returned the portly little man, who happened to be the chief of R.S.U.'s Advanced Physics department, through gritted teeth. "They didn't ask you to participate in this little project as well, did they?"

"They did. Prime Minister Dhawan called me personally..."

"As he did for me," cut in Gordon. Morris ignored him.

"...and I naturally jumped at the opportunity."

"I'm glad you did, doctor. It will be ... an immense pleasure working with you," replied Dr. Gordon. "A shame they have to hold in Madagascar, of all places. Why do you suppose that is?"

The two men had been walking together after the initial meeting, much to their mutual distaste. Gordon held the door for Morris, contemplating the social consequences of not following him out. They were greater than the immense pleasure of leaving would be, and he followed the other doctor. Morris frowned slightly. He had been hoping for Gordon to stay inside the building, but instead found himself walking briskly through the Ianapalis night next to him.

"We're leaving tomorrow, is that it?" asked Morris, sure of the answer but feeling the need for polite conversation regardless.

"Yes, tomorrow," replied Gordon stiffly. "I still have a few things to pack."

"Myself as well. And I need to say goodbye to my wife as well." Morris glanced over to see Gordon's reaction to that comment. The little man, who was built along the lines of a beer keg, was unmarried, and many said he was unmarriable. Gordon didn't disappoint him; his face turned bright red, and he crossed his arms in front of him while biting his lower lip. Morris smiled.

"Dr. Norman Morris? Dr. Alistar Gordon?" Neither of them recognized the voice, and they turned to see a young R.I.F.C. officer, his bright red uniform standing out against the dark of the university campus.

"Yes?" asked Morris cautiously.

The man smiled and saluted. "Good day, doctors. I am Wing Commander Niel S. Bowman, in charge of Aero Operations for the Antananarivo Project."

Neither of the civilians attempted to return the salute. Morris changed his briefcase from the right to his left hand, in case Wing Commander Bowman wanted to shake hands. "Ah, Commander Bowman," nodded Gordon, looking from the officer to Morris. "How can we help you?"

"I'm afraid the schedule for the entire project has been pushed up," shrugged Bowman. "I'm sorry about the short notice, and I can assure you that you will both be handsomely compensated for any inconvenience."

"Handsomely compensated!?" asked Dr. Morris, whipping his head back as if he had been struck. "You expect me to go off to ... some backwaters of a Walmingtonian colony for God knows HOW long, and not even say good-bye to my wife?!"

"I'm sorry, doctor," shrugged Bowman again. "If you care to, you can be dropped from the program, and I'll just have Dr. Gordon put in charge..."

That fixed it. Morris ground his teeth hard enough to break a filling, while Dr. Gordon smiled. "Shall we go, then, Commander?" he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper.

The RIFC man smiled. "After you, doctor. My Westerton is parked right over there, and your transportation is waiting at Shadoran International."

Morris slammed his briefcase into the boot of the Jackrabbit, and wrenched the door open. "Bloody blackmail, that's what this is," he growled. Gordon just smiled at him.

Durban, Walmingtonian South Africa

Dr.Clifford Dell was glad to be off what was surely the East Cape Line's smallest and most sweaty carriage. His newly acquired and greatly expressive stretch-induced smile began to fall away as he regarded the little Barrow bomber in its light transport configuration.
Sigh.. next stop; Cape Vohimena, and then just four..or five hundred miles to Antananarivo!

Still, at least the government was apparetly putting some spending into this affair. His wasn't the only plane taking off. There seemed to be a whole army relocating to the island. Perhaps the project would be better funded than the Mashonaland West College at which he'd been working.

Dell's research partners, Doctors Yorke and Bell-Willis, were en route from Walmington proper via Walmingtonian, Free French, and British African colonies, and should arrive a day behind Clifford.

Walmingtonian Madagascar

The vast island, long neglected by the empire, was at its most active since "King" Andrianampoinimerina VIII's ambitions brought about the Second Privateering War a good generation ago.

Several fighter squadrons were being stationed to the north, where a few improvements in shore batteries were underway. Can't trust those Italian types to stay away of their own ineptitude!

A fresh company of mechanised infantry was shipping in to Antananarivo itself. Dell would soon be feeling quite some pressure. Until now Walmingtonian science had only gently probed at the subject matter central to the project, and suddenly resources were being commited to defend its progress. The Ians were coming, too.

I hope they aren't working too far over my head the doctor mused as his Barrow brought the south coast into view.

Can't trust those Italian types to stay away of their own ineptitude!

ooc: Va funcolo!!

Enroute to Walmingtonish Madagascar
Over Iansislean Mindanao; Approaching the Sulu Sea

The roar of a Bankfield Mk. III's four engines was comforting, Dr. Morris had to admit to himself. Still, though, he couldn't see how Dr. Gordon was fast asleep - even if Commander Bowman hadn't said anything, the entire flight crew knew that the journey over Borneo and into Fort Manly would be the most difficult part of the journey. They were well away from the Chiangman's bases in Siam, and well inside Iansislean controlled aerospace, but...there was no telling how crafty the sneaksters could be.

Speaking of crafty, the doctor paused for a second to think about the magnitude of the task facing him and his colleagues. They had to find a way to extract the rare and unstable isotope U-235 from the useless uranium ore, and in fairly large quantities, too! They needed the U-235 because it was the only element (ooc: that has been thought of thus far. We'll hit on P-239 later) unstable enough to sustain a fissionable chain reaction after the critical mass was obtained. And even after that, we need to find some way of turning it into a weapon! Madness, that's what it was, Dr. Morris thought. Sinking this many generals, and several of the most brilliant minds in the Commonwealth into a project based on theoretical terms? Sure, the amount of energy that would theoretically be released in a fission chain reaction was mind-boggling, but what if it didn't work? Would they even bother to pay his flight back to Iansisle?

Below the high-flying Bankfield, the jungles of Iansislean Mindanao gave way to the Sulu Sea. Morris fidgeted a little, looking out the small window. A few more hours, and they'd be in Fort Manly...lord, it would feel good to get his feet on the ground for a while as the flyer was being refueled for the trip to Ceyloba, and then to Madagascar. Dr. Morris looked out the window, trying to see behind him. Somewhere back there, he knew, was the aero-transportation armada that was hauling Iansisle's equipment and lab assistants.

Beside him, Dr. Gordon snorted and rolled over in the small seat. Dr. Morris inched away as far as was possible, wishing as hard as he could for Fort Manly to appear.

(sorry I dropped this for so long, but I'm ready to get back into it! By the way, Calarca - if you're reading this, you're more than welcome to participate.)

Coming into Antananarivo
Over Walmingtonian Madagascar

Dr. Morris stirred slightly as the Bankfield's engines changed pitch, dropping slightly through the black night. He tried to stretch: they hadn't been allowed to leave the flyer, even when it was grounded at Fort Manly or Elphinstone Harbor. The long flight made his bones ache, but didn't seem to affect the portly Dr. Gordon, who was still fast asleep.

Up in the cockpit, he could hear Commander Bowman transmitting the proper docking codes and requesting permission to land.

Morris sighed as Gordon at last woke, his ears popping. (Two, possibly three) different nations, trying to cooperate on the greatest scientific project even undertaken: three different styles of research, security, and procedures. He shook his head. This isn't going to be easy...

Dr.Dell had arrived in Antananarivo late in the afternoon on the same day as saw the night-time approach of the Iansislians.
He was, oh so unusually for a Walmingtonian seeking relaxation outside cricket season, in the cheapest pub in the city (which he reckoned to be The Royal Apongy (an apongy being a manner of lemur, by its local name)) and could be found still considering the rail system on the island.

He was surprised they had one at all. The less than comprehensive network was of an unusually wide gauge, and the train which brought him up from the south coast was a fantasical looking contraption, its boiler much smaller than the great engines running back in Walmington, but on wheels higher than a man was tall. It was on-time, too. Dell wasn't sure if that was usual for the colony, or an extra effort on behalf of the Project.

The other Walmingtonian researchers, he'd been told, would arrive if not to-morrow, certainly the day after.

Meanwhile the night air carried a transmission granting the Iansislian flyer permission to land at Antananarivo.

The first Bankfield carried only the two doctors, Wing Commander Bowman - who, as it turned out, was Iansisle's military attache to the Antananarivo Project - and the few personal effects they had on their persons. A second Bankfield, which was probably just now departing the Commonwealth, would be coming in soon, carrying the researchers notes, equipment, assistants, and extended wardrobes.

In the meantime, cargo flyers staging from Iansislean Gallaga continued to arrive - the RIFC had seven of its precious few cargo hauling flyers dedicated to the project, while a larger shipment of uranium ore was readied to be transported in conjunction with the Bay of Bengal fleet. There was still some danger from the Ercolanan ships at Karachi, and the Admiralty was hesitant to risk something as precious as the ore until its safe passage could be assured.

Dr. Gordon sniffed his armpit. "Whew!" he exclaimed, turning to Morris. "Rather rank under there!"

"I'd noticed," was the only reply he got.

"Gentlemen," cut in Commander Bowman, walking in between them before Dr. Gordon could get properly offended, "I'm sure you've both noticed that security is very tight around here, in line with the sensitive nature of the project. An effort is being made to not inform any Iansisleans or natives you may see about the nature of your work: I'd appreciate it if you'd join me in doing so. Madagascar is fairly secure, but if the Hun or the Chiangman found out what we're up to..." He shrugged. "There's no telling what lengths they'd go to to stop us."

He nodded towards the city, which was small by the standards of Nusheld or Fort Manly. "The lead elements of the Walmingtonian research team are already present. I'm to take you to meet, er, him. After me, please," asked, though ordered may better have suited his tone of voice, the Commander, waving them to follow him to [insert Dr. Dell's location here].

OOC: I was offline since before this was started, lol. but now i'm here. let me have a look at the history of the RL manhattan proj and I'll work out what I'm gonna do.

(Ok - Just so you know, we're still in the process of working out how to seperate U-235 from the U-238. That's why we're still shipping the raw uranium ore out.)

(Here's (http://www.me.utexas.edu/~uer/manhattan/) a good website)

OOC: I say we go with the magnetic separation, Calarca gets most of it's home produced Iron from the Glenbrook Ironsands, and that is done using a magnetic process. so theres the tech there already, but let me do a bit more reseach and make an IC annoucement. for now I'll just offer Sumatran Graphite, since those scientists playing with Radium found it absorbs neutrons, and will sheild reactors if neutrons are emitted as the theory and maths say it should in Uranium reactions...
/OOC

Four Calarcian Radiation specialists from the Raduim experimentiaton labs in Te Awamutu embark aboard a seven seater Bat configured as fast Covert transport with fuel tanks in place of the Torpedos or bombs. Meanwhile a ship in Gumatra is being loaded on the scientists orders with high grade Graphite to follow the scientists.

OOC: Tag. This is going to be one hell of a read. Excellent choice of a quote for the title. I can't remember which of the Manhattan Project scientists quoted that after the detonation, but I think it was Oppenheimer.

BTW, I'm a new WWII nation. Any suggestions where I can try to get into the game?

Since you're Islands, try the Carribean. I think someone may be taking a central or north-of-south American country, and WoS and me may at some point invade america to get hold of the Panama canal.

Theres so many popping in tho. so you may end up fighting with some and ignoring others, much as japan fought the brits and americans and ignored the africans... lol.

Can't trust those Italian types to stay away of their own ineptitude!

ooc: Va funcolo!!Yeah! What he/she said! :P

ooc:I don't want to take this thread too far off track, but I'd say that, if you're alright with it, there's no rush to get too heavily involved in the current war..being as it is total war, a nation so small would probably be quickly taken out with massive force by anyone it posed a threat to.. however, I'm in two minds about where to take WoS post war- I was thinking of moving into the 50s and maybe 60s, but stopping short of modern tech.. I'm not so sure anymore. I might hang around on this level and interact with other WWII tech nations after this war is over. I think DK might be planning to stay WWII level as well. We'll see.

Since you're Islands, try the Carribean. I think someone may be taking a central or north-of-south American country, and WoS and me may at some point invade america to get hold of the Panama canal.

Theres so many popping in tho. so you may end up fighting with some and ignoring others, much as japan fought the brits and americans and ignored the africans... lol.

Invade America for the panama canal...you do realize your allied with America, right?

ooc:Iansisle didn't have good relations with America because Iansisle was supplying Japan with oil and what not despite America's objections- it was in Iansisle's interests to do so because Japan was in a position to threaten her empire, while America could sit thousands of miles away feeling safe. Walmington on Sea has poor relations with America because we are allied with Iansisle, and are of British origin, and allied to Britain- Britain had bad relations with America, and as recently as 1919 had plans drawn out for war with America. The fact that America has done nothing to help France, and now Britain and Walmington (especially Britain) has soured Walmington-American relations further. IRL America survived and eventually flourished because Britain needed an ally out of the way with a big industrial base, after mainland Europe fell. In this reality, she has Walmington and Iansisle. America is screwed.

ooc:Iansisle didn't have good relations with America because Iansisle was supplying Japan with oil and what not despite America's objections- it was in Iansisle's interests to do so because Japan was in a position to threaten her empire, while America could sit thousands of miles away feeling safe. Walmington on Sea has poor relations with America because we are allied with Iansisle, and are of British origin, and allied to Britain- Britain had bad relations with America, and as recently as 1919 had plans drawn out for war with America. The fact that America has done nothing to help France, and now Britain and Walmington (especially Britain) has soured Walmington-American relations further. IRL America survived and eventually flourished because Britain needed an ally out of the way with a big industrial base, after mainland Europe fell. In this reality, she has Walmington and Iansisle. America is screwed.

Then I would like to extend my hand to America to join up with the Axis :P


ooc: I really think it is impossible for anyone to take over America in the last 100 years either. Citizens with guns...good deterent. And without America Britain was screwed...

I don't think they'd go for it. (sham) Democracy and all.

edit: oh, pff, plenty of nations had armed citizenry. The American populace wouldn't be able to do more than form a few militias. Hardly war winning, just a bit of a costly occupation for a while.

Anyhoo, yes, Britain needed an ally in RL, and it just happened to be convenient that it be America. In this reality it's WoS and Iansisle, as I say. And Calarca now.

I don't think they'd go for it. (sham) Democracy and all.

ooc: Well, when some 10 million Italian American Immigrants with some powerful godfathers start making offers to the US government we shall see who they side with.

and how is it a sham??

I don't think they'd go for it. (sham) Democracy and all.

ooc: Well, when some 10 million Italian American Immigrants with some powerful godfathers start making offers to the US government we shall see who they side with.

and how is it a sham??

Hehe! Brilliant! One of the funniest posts I've read for a while..

Hmm... interesting, an axis america, with a northern front between canada and the US, and Calarca invading California with Iansisle and WoS invading Florida... interesting concept, and imagine Nagasaki's Big Boy bomb going off over washington DC....

OOC: Heh. Reminds me of the alternate history series Harry Turtledove did on WWI.. the central premise of which being the Confederacy won the Civil War. It ended up with the US allied with Germany, fighting the Confederacy in the South and Canada up north, and the Confederacy allying with GB and France. Quite frankly it wasn't the best writing I've ever seen in my life, but it's an interesting exercise in "What If" lines of historical thinking.

(hey, hey, everyone - play nice! ;))

The two doctors glanced about the deserted bar, their eyes slowly tracing back to Wing Commander Bowman, who shrugged. "They told me he was here." The Flying Corps man checked his watch. "Of course, it is fairly late, and I'm sure you two had a harder time on the flight than I did. Why don't I show you to the hotel instead?"

"I'd be delighted if you would," replied Dr. Morris dryly.

(heh, sorry about that. I don't know where he's got to, new arrivals to the thread carried me a bit far from the point. Em, yes, I'll have the rest of the WoS researchers on their way in the next day, so I suppose they will all be introduced then. If Cal's around, check yr telemegramams, and excuse their long-winded nature..)

(heh, don't worry about it - I'm just trying to keep this thread sorta on track ;))

(ooc: Yeah, didn't mean to get off on a tangent...WoS, I am a little upset at you calling the American form of Democracy a sham, considering how more democratic it is when compared to Britains. But I will save that for another day, and another thread)

OOC:
By the way, the quote should be "I am become Death, Destroyer of Worlds..."

Dr.Dell had staggered back to his hotel room. The Antananarivo Wayne, for one of its main investors. Three stars, and quite large. They'd probably push for a fourth star were there more westerners around with money, but this was Madagascar, not the cape.

Apparently Dell's room wasn't far from those in which the Ians were to be put up, but in his condition he thought it best to wait for morning..er..afternoon before speaking with them.

The doctor picked up one of the books from the room's small library and read himself to sleep. "Democracy and Organised Crime (& the future of Anglo-Saxon Immunity)"

The doctor picked up one of the books from the room's small library and read himself to sleep. "Democracy and Organised Crime (& the future of Anglo-Saxon Immunity)"

ooc: Oh there is plenty of Organized Crime in England...just not run by Italians.

ic:

Completely unaware of this, Ercolana has recently began to experiment with its Uranium deposits.

(the point of the book is that some cockney gangster isn't in a position to direct parliament's policies or push the PM into a state of war.. but..never mind)

(Thank you, Wyrmberg. In the future, I'd prefer it if you'd telegram minor corrections to me, so as not to drive this further off topic. The change has been made.)

The two doctors weren't very pleased at all to notice that they staying in the same room at the Wayne.

"At least there are two beds," commented Dr. Morris, tossing his bag down on the right more one of them. Dr. Gordon crawled straight into his bed and shut his eyes. Morris shook his head in disgust. "I'm going to take a shower," he said pointedly. Gordon muttered in acknowlegment.

(the point of the book is that some cockney gangster isn't in a position to direct parliament's policies or push the PM into a state of war.. but..never mind)

(OOC: Tony Blair...c'mon TONY!! hehe jk. Also I find it indicative that your country is not truly democratic by the fact that a large portion of its population has no influence on it.

^ I am saying this Semi-seriously

From hence on I shall keep this on topic)

(It is true that a want for proportional representation leads to some questionable power balances. There are efforts to change it, but no one can seem to agree. Democracy as a rule doesn't work terribly well for most of us, in my opinion. And I dislike Mr.Blair (shock horror), though I understand he'd have a pretty good chance of making president were he American born :? Anyhoo, the socialists won in my part of the world last time around. That was unexpected.. and my friend was about half a dozen votes short of beating the Tories. (Oh it would not have made a difference if I'd voted ;) ))

(And damn your west African holdings and your above-Somalian ability to extract and exploit their resources!)

Hotel staff next morning would no doubt be a little surprised to see that the Iansislians had apparently slept together the night before, leaving a room empty next door..
Not to worry, I'm sure the couple get along well enough to laugh off the raised eyebrows and whispers..

The stench got Dr. Morris up with the sun. He threw a disgusted look over at Dr. Gordon, then hurridly dressed in a cheap pinstriped suit and headed down to the hotel restaurant. He noted one maid giggling as she passed, and shook it off, before taking the elevator down.

He took a seat at the bar, getting ready to order the biggest egg plate the offered, and looked up as a server approached.

Many of the staff, including the middle-aged man who approached Dr.Morris' table, were of Indonesian origin, the black African population of the island being mostly out in tiny villages in the bush, and the westerners on the island almost exclusively upper-class, or else recently arrived with a bayonet on their hip.

"Good morning sir." The man said with a heavy accent (he'd likely learned English late in life)

"What may I help you?" He asked with a smile.

Dr.Dell was doing his best to rise, but every move towards the curtains let the Madagascarn sun cast him back to bed.

(ooc:I'm off to bed ("before 5am? are you mad?") but I wanted to get this in before I go. Feel free to place the order or do any other hotel-based things of minor importance ;) )

In the kitchens of the Antananarivo Wayne, the chef worried that with the departure of so many westerners for the busy war-time Cape, his rare Vouron Patra egg would go to waste.
Maybe a company of those soldiers will call in for egg? They wouldn't send the most disciplined of units out here, there's nothing to protect, save my eggs.








http://www.aristotle.net/~swarmack/hodgraph/patraegg.JPG

OOC: There is a mathematical paper which lists a number of requirements necessary for a good democracy, and then proceeds to logically prove that the only form of government satisfying them all is dictatorship. But I'll stop hijacking now.

I don't want to be a hijacker either, but I thought this (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=77021&highlight=) thread might interest you. I swear I started it before I ever saw this one; right about the time things started getting slow between the Admiral Scheer and Admiral Coney.
I wondered where all you guys were hiding out at..... :cry:

..Time to get the Antananarivo Project moving :shock:

Dr. Morris ordered a large plate of eggs - when asked, he specified, "no, I want chicken eggs, thank you" - and sat to eating them slowly, sitting as near to a window as he could. Already, the theoretical physicist was starting to feel pangs of homesickness. Of course it was getting on to the rainy season back on the Shield, and the weather here was fairly nice here.

He continued to sit at the table for hours, wondering if Dr. Gordon was ever going to wake up.

(oops)

Dell eventually crept down to find food. It was late morning when he shuffled into the bar.

"What time is it? Half an hour to opening? God, I shall never make it!"

"Bar open all times for scientists duration." Offered the server, following which the doctor promptly ordered a gin while he waited for his bacon and sausages, which he was glad to see rationing-free in Madagascar. Or at least in the hotel..for the scientists..for now.

Dell cringed as a yell burst through from the kitchen. Something about a dropped egg, he thought. Odd that they'd be so concerned given the lack of rationing. He shrugged.

Noticing Dr.Morris, and suspecting that this might be one of the Ians, Dell picked up his gin, and indicated to the server that he'd be "over there."


At the Antananarivo rail station, the two scientists from the home islands arrived to be greeted by a number of military men. Into a half-covered spoke-wheeled Stockley '19 they all piled, making down a surprisingly large, paved, but otherwise empty road at all of eighteen miles per hour.

One of the military men explained that Calarcans were expected shortly to join the project, and that "you boys can see this is getting serious." and further that "Great Walmington understands that your work may be somewhat behind our allies, so don't rubbish their ideas, and don't feel useless; Walmington's putting a lion's share of the funding into this."

The pair glanced at one another over hugged cases, assuring each other that neither was sure how that was supposed to make them feel better.

OOC: finally stepping in a bit.

The Bat flyer came in to a bumpy landing at the field, shaking up the reasearchers within. Disembarking they brought out a heavy lead cylnder and began to walk to the nearest buildings, letting the crew roust up someone to follow carrying their bags.

OOC: so where do they go? who do they meet? They're bringing some Radium, their toy of choice.

Rationing was a concept that was unknown in Iansisle, despite the wartime situations and the nation's precarious position in south east Asia. Dr. Morris sat quietly at the table, hardly noticing the Walmingtoners approach and not registering it anyway.

He was forced to react when Dr. Dell sat down right next to him. "Oh, er, hello," he fumbled, hurrying to put his glasses on. "You're that Walmingtoner Commander Bowman was trying to introduce me the last night, correct? I'm Dr. Norman Morris, from Royal Standard University in the 'Wealth. How do you do?" Now that he wasn't talking directly to Dr. Gordon, Dr. Morris seemed to be a perfectly friendly sort.

(Calarca: I'm afraid you'd have to speak with Walmington about that. It's his colony ;))