NationStates Jolt Archive

The intercom buzzed in Newlin's cabin, "Ambassador, we have just exited hyper, and have set course for True Hope, estimated arrival time is 6 hours." Newlin looked up from his desk, then pressed the reply button, "Thank you Lieutenant."

Newlin leaned back and mentally reviewed his assignment again, he was here to negotiate the leasing of space for the establishment of a fleet base, and a civilian trade port as well. If negotiations failed with the Sultan, well, there was always the Republic of the Seven Heads, on the the third planet.
******
One light-minute from True Hope, the communications officer aboard the yacht began transmitting, "This is the diplomatic yacht Haven, of the People's Republic of Vernii. We are here to deliver the ambassador and his party."

The great Kahn, Darfus, of the Northern tribes is sitting with his wives when a messenger storms in:

"Sire, the Infidels are seeking help from a great outside power, from beyond the moons and sun."

He glances over a piece of paper handed to him and stands: "We must stop this before it goes too far, our very existance may depend upon it"

Darius glances behind him as the transport speeds along the newly paved roads of his nation. As he heads out of Hamunaptra he can see the space port getting closer and closer, just before the horizon. He wonders what these Verniians will behave and how to approach negoatiations with them.

Since his appointment as supreme delegate to foriegn affairs he has yet to fail his sultan, but knows that if he does he will pay with his head-as did his predicessor. If he does not land this treaty it could mean a return to the old ways, enslavement by the Seven Heads. He cannot fail.

Lt. Calgarian sits at his post on the borderspace between His Holiness's territory and that of the rebel scum. He'd held his post for what seems like an eternity; only finding meteors and commercial activity. He leaned to one elbow, nearly falling asleep when suddenly a shout comes from his information officer; "Sir! We're getting something about 3 lightminutes out-it's a yacht, sir"

"What the hell? Who's is it?"

"Radio communication says it's 'Verniian'"

"Vernii... Vernii..." His mind searches for some clue as to who they are. "Heathens." He did not know who they were, but he knew they did not worship His Holniness; which was enough reason to stop them. Without even concidering an alternative he barks; "intercept coarse." They speed towards the yacht, Calgarian not even taking note of the border markers as they pass them by.

"Uh, sir? I'm picking up another vessel. It emissions and transponder identify it as a system patrol craft, belonging to Seven Heads."

Lt. Janson, commander of Haven, looked up from his command seat. "Velocity and heading?"

"Intercept course, and they appear to be pouring on their acceleration. Look's like they are trying to catch us."

"Transmit this to them: Patrol boat, this is the diplomatic yacht Haven of the People's Republic of Vernii. State your intentions immediately or you will be presumed hostile."

A scratchy, seemingly inaudible message whispers from accross the bridge. The Comm. officer shouts; "The Verniians wish to know our intentions and threaten retaliation, responce, sir?"

"Tell them to prepare to be boarded, or face the wrath of His Holiness." Calgarian spirts with a conceited glair. The Comm officer quickly relays the message. "Continue course and prepair a boarding party. The heathens will comply or be His Holiness's prisoners." he says in a confident glow. They speed along, gaining on the small yacht slowly but surely.

Five men in tan robes march swiftly down the terminal of the expansive spaceport terminal just outside of Hamunaptra. Their turbans and tattered desert sandals set them apart from the other travelors, which is evidant in their stares. A gaurd approaches, stopping them and asking their business. The man in front of their pentagonal formation produces five tickets to a transport bound for Al' Kari-one of True Hope's three moons. Suspicous, the gaurd backs away, making and inaudible message to his superious through his two-way radio. The formation continues on until reaching a "Takra Shak" (one of True hopes many fast food chains). They sit down and make an order of water and some other small foods. As they sit they keep a close eye on a military check point across the terminal-the VIP entrance to the spaceport, the same entrance throw which any deligates from beyond the moon and sun would come.

As the youngest of the five devours his meal, the glimmer from beneath his robe begins to show; their leader quickly orders him to correct the possible breach. Beneath each of their robes lies a sword, plasma rifle, and suicide bomb. They do not entend to leave the terminal alive.

"SIR! We've got a Seven Heads patrol ship going AWL across the border zone! It's on an intercept course for the Verniian yacht! Coming down hard and fast!" rings across the bridge of the THS Stalker.

"What the... Is it within weapons range?" Taken by suprise, Capt. Volimeer inquires.

Next to him, his second in command-Commander L. T. Smith interjects; "It is not adviseable to fire, sir. To violate the Peace Acts treaty of 600 with an act of war could bring about another... well... war." Smith was never the most well spoken of men, no matter how well he attempted to be.

"Well what CAN we do?" Volimeer nearly screams.

"Take up a defencive position along the Yacht and hope it scares the patrol ship away, meanwhile, remind the patrol ship they're in violation of the treaty and will be apprehended if they do not retreat immediately" Smith had accomplished the feat of gaining actual command of the ship. He was a brilliant strategist and one of the most intelligent men in the service, but his lack of class had always kept him behind. And so his commands were understood and put into action before the Captain even had time to repeat them as if they were his own (as had become the custom on board the ship). The only matter that remained was if the Patrol ship would comply.

Respond with this: "Seven Heads vessel, boarding this vessel would be interpreted as an act of war against the People's Republic. If you continue to approach you will be fired upon." Janson cut off the transmission, then turned to his bridge crew, "bring up our point defence systems and shields."

"Sir, another patrol vessel, this ones flagged to the Sultanate, the Stalker, appears to be coming up on a parallel course between us and the enemy vessel."

Comm. Officer;"Sir, a rebel ship demands we dis-embark and return to the His Holiness's territory immediatly or face capture, your orders?"

Calgarian;"Alright then, fire teathers, we'll tow the damned yacht all the way back to New Hope if we have to. Keep primary weapons charged and aimed on the rebel ship."

Weapons Officer;"No chance, we're out of range, sir."

Calgarian;"Then slow the thing down, shoot out the engines"

Weapons Officer;"Yes, sir" as he fires a barrage of 30 missiles.

"Sir, they're opening fire on the yacht."

Volimeer;"Counter missiles, NOW!"

Smith;"Manuever us between the two ships."

Both orders are carried out, 11 of the barrages 30 are taken out.

"Weapons fire! Detecting multiple launch signatures from the enemy warship. Also detecting defensive fire from the Stalker!"

Janson was quick to react, "Roll ship, engage point defences."

The sleek yacht rolled to present its armored ventral surface to the incoming missiles, and point defence lasers on its hull swiveled to target and fire at the incoming missiles, as several counter-missiles screamed out off their launchers.

Two of the incoming missiles made it through, and the yacht's shield flashed as it absorbed the energy of their detonations.

"Two hits, no damage, sir."

"Damn!" Calgarian shouts. "Tactical officer; advice?"

Tactical officer;"Sir, where there's one rebel; there's more, they've taken up position between us and the yacht-we have no option but to retreat until our forces are more substancial."

Calgarian pauses to think, then gives the order;"Sound a retreat... we'll report this craft to His Holiness and seek further advice."

The ship turns around and begins toward New Hope.

"Patrol ship making a run for it, sir."

Volimeer;"Good. Signal command and tell them what happened, then tell the yacht we'll be escorting them to the landing point." Smith stands by to correct any blatant mystake by his captain.

Smith;"Sir, it may now be presumed that the Seven Heads will know of Vernii's operations on our planet-might i suggest we make an attempt to capture the ship while it's still in our territory."

Volimeer;"They were going to notice eventually, Commander-and only a few parts of the operation are classified, and we don't want to risk any more confrontation."

Defeated, Smith gives up and nods to his fellow crewman to follow their captain's orders. The messages are sent to the yacht and command as they proceed toward the planet.

"Patrol ship making a run for it, sir."

Volimeer;"Good. Signal command and tell them what happened, then tell the yacht we'll be escorting them to the landing point." Smith stands by to correct any blatant mystake by his captain.

Smith;"Sir, it may now be presumed that the Seven Heads will know of Vernii's operations on our planet-might i suggest we make an attempt to capture the ship while it's still in our territory."

Volimeer;"They were going to notice eventually, Commander-and only a few parts of the operation are classified, and we don't want to risk any more confrontation."

Defeated, Smith gives up and nods to his fellow crewman to follow their captain's orders. The messages are sent to the yacht and command as they proceed toward the planet.

OOC: I'll just assume the rest of the trip is uneventful.

The Haven lands at the starport outside the Sultanate's capital. A few minutes after landing the boarding ramp of the yacht folds down. Four marines wearing kevlar and carrying pulser rifles descend first, and take up protective positions around it. Next come Newlin's servants and other members of the delegation, and another four marines. Finally the ambassador comes down the ramp, escorted by the final four marines.

Newlin is in his sixties, but thanks to prolong looks about 40, but his hair is starting to gray. He is wearing a black business suit and carries a briefcase. He sits it down, and approaches the Sultan's dignitary with an outstretched hand. "I am Ambassador Newlin, of the People's Republic. I'm here to negotiate with your master."

Darius is accompanied by two royal guards, standing on either side of him, and a host of 3 servants; Talia (rumored to be his mistress), Sedrick (his body gaurd), and Wadsworth (his butler, no doubt). The gaurds wear tan camoflauge and kevlar and hold assault rifles. Talia wears a high cut red dress, Sedrick; a tight black t-shirt and pants, while Wadworth wears a rather stereotypical butler's suit.

Darius takes Ambassidor Newlin's hand, saying "The Sultan sends his many thanks, and an apology that he could not attend your landing-he has matters of a difficult sort to attend to. May I escort you to your land transport that will take you to the Hamunaptran Palace?"

As the five sit in the small restaurant, they keep their eyes alert, searching for their comrades. Coming from the opposite end of the terminal comes the second and final team of five warriors, marching down in a swift, organized fashion. Upon reaching a predetermined checkpoint, they scatter into the crowd; placing themselves on balconies, behind plants, on benches. They, too, were armed with swords, plasma rifles, and high explosive, shrapnel laden suicide bombs. They lye in wait for their target to arrive.

Calgarian storms down a long, extravagant hall with his hat under one arm; the sound of his shoes echoeing. At the end of the hall is a large, elevated thrown of gold surrounded by servants and preists dressed in red robes. In the thrown is His Holiness-Jacob XIV, Emperor and high preist of The Holy Empire of the Seven Heads.

Calgarian gives a stanch report of the events, embelishing them from time to time for his own favor, of course. Sitting on his thrown, Jacob whispers to a preist beside him, then looks back at Calgarian. "This is no doubt an attempt to destroy the faith and it's people. The heathens must be punished. Calgarian-for your bravery i award you command of the third armada. My agents shall gather information until we have enough to crush the heathen rebel scum once and for all before they attempt the same to us. You shall help lead my forces to victory. Return to your ship and await commands." Calgarian turns around and begins marching out of the hall.

One of the preists then scuttles out a side exit, down a long circular stairway to a gigantic control room of sorts. From this room, the Emperor watches and controls his people-as well as his agents on True Hope, the rebel planet. The preist whispers to a man in a white shirt, tie, and pants. He leads the preist to screen. The preist sits down and begins to speak-from the screen comes a feminine voice-the voice of Talia.

He demands to know of the Verniians, and their agendas on True Hope. Talia says she knows nothing, but vows to find out as much as she can. Before closing the conversation she utters a singular phrase; "Long live His Holiness. Death to the rebel scum." In the background can be heard Darius calling to his servant, she closes the communication as her head jerks to the left.

"That would be fine, thank you." The ambassador picks up his briefcase and his four bodyguards follow behind as he follows Darius to the transport.

Darius begins to lead Newlin and his men to the transport when he sees Talia, once again, looking into her make-up compact. She seems obsessed with her looks, what with the excessive amount she looks into it. Placing that into the back of his mind, he continues small talk with the Verniian delegate as they enter the terminal.

Alert as ever, the ten warriors spot the incoming delegates; deep in discussion with one another. They scan the small enterage and take note of the twelve marines in their company. This, combined with the men at the checkpoint, makes 16 enemy troups. The lead warrior, still in the cafe, gives a hand signal to two warriors in position on different balconies that are one story up, only an eslcalator away from the ground floor. The signal is to take out the verniian delegate first and then anyone else he can find. Their hale of fire will be followed by an all out attack by another eight warriors with their rifles. The two snipers scout out their shot, and when the time is right draw out their weapons-they gaze down upon the delegate and take their shot.

Newlin goes down in a spray of blood as bullets rip through the elderly diplomat's body. The twelve marines quickly break up into small groups, pushing the other members of the diplomatic group into cover, and bringing up their pulser rifles.

"Snipers on the second floor balcony!"

The high pitched whine of pulser fire fills the room as three marines begin sweeping their fire across it.

Darius looks around at the chaos around him, seeing his chance at finally overthrowing the Seven Heads shatter just like Newlin's skull. He dives for the floor, taking Talia with him. Sedrick pulls out his handgun glancing around for a new target, but in the confusion sees nothing. Wadsworth stands calmly behind Sedrick waiting for the commotion to stop. Darius and Talia crawl to a large plant and take shelter behind it.

The crowds are scattering and screaming.

The two snipers are litterally shred to bits, one of the darts detinating the far snipers bomb and destroying a large amount of the balcony. At this point the primary assault begins. The rest of the eight men charge in firing thier plasma rifles upon the marines, Sedrick, and the gaurds.

Two of the marines die as the plasma rifles burn through them, and another falls clutching his arm. The remaining nine turn the pulser rifles toward the enemy bedouin, and open fire, their guns firing hundreds of 5 mm pulser darts into them.

Sedrick pops off 3 rounds at his attackers, right before being knocke to the ground by a plasma burst, he groans in pain. Three of the four gaurds are nearly burned from wear they stand because they were standing in front. Darius and Talia continue to hide.

Sedrick gets off three rounds at his attackers before being knocked to the ground by a direct hit to the shoulder. His comrades, the gaurds, are not so lucky in that they are almost disintegrated by the fire. Wadsworth goes to hide on the other side of the plant, opposite Darius and Talia.

Two of the eight warriors are literally cut in half by the marines' weapons. One is shot directly in the face by Sedrick as he squeezes off a shot into the man's shoulder. Yet another is injured by a stray projectile. The rest of the warriors hide behind large, heavy, metal support columns. The man that is injured, only about 20 feet from the marines, reaches down into his robe and begins the countdown of his bomb. He then begins dragging himself toward the marines moving at a pace of about three feet a second, with 10 seconds remaining on his countdown. The remaining warriors continue to fire from behind their hiding places. One warrior behind a column, with cold precision in his eyes, begins the 30 second countdown of his suicide bomb. He waits 15 seconds and begins sprinting in from the left side of the marine's position, his starting point only 32 feet away.

The bomber running toward them becomes top priority, and three of the marines turn toward him and fire. Another two target the man crawling on the floor, while the rest continue firing against the remaining terrorists.

Finally, two dozen security force guards appeared, coming from different points around the spaceport-and more were coming. There were twelve on either side of the terrorist's positions. They are dressed in desert camo and gas masks, protected with kevlar, and armed with plasma rifles. As they arrive they take up positions behind support beams, as well, and begin firing on the enemy positions. A cry rings out; "GAS!" to warn his troops and the marines, and an officer throws a tear gas grenade into the enemy position. A green mist pours out of the canister and quickly spreads to fill the air.

The sprinting warrior does his best dodging the first shots of the marines, but cannot hold up long. Bullets tear into him; spinning him into mid air as blood spurts from his body. He lands approximately 18 feet away from the marines, his bomb still counting down to detonation. The shrapnel of his weapon can reach a thirty foot radius easily, and only has 6 seconds to go. His comrade, who had chosen to use his final breaths to drag death to his enemies was stopped a good 15 feet away, his bomb still active, as well, with 9 seconds remaining. The remaining 3 warriors continue firing upon their enemies from the metal beams. As the canister lands, the warriors wet their facecloths with their canteens and place them over their mouthes and noses. It slows the effect of the tear gas. Knowing that all escape routes have been cut off and their chance of winning slim, they begin contemplating the activation of their bombs as well.

"Withdraw!"
One of the marines takes Newlin's body by an arm, and another grabs his wounded comrade. Together they and the four other marines hustle the delegation back away from the firefight as the three remaining marines cover their retreat with another spray of pulser fire. The three retreat about thirty feet before taking cover behind some supports.

As the gas pours over them, Darius and what is left of his enterage begin to cough and gag, watching as their marine defenders flee. Out of the gas comes Sedrick, his wound covered by a make-shift bandage made of his shirt. He lifts Darius and Talia over his shoulders, and signals to Wadsworth, who although being in extreme discomfort keeps his proper demeanor, to follow. They move steadily toward the gaurds as to not have themselves mistaken for the enemy and quickly recieve gasmasks and medical treatment from the make-shift front line. The shooting continues.

The effects of the tear gas are beginning to set in and the warriors accept the fact that they cannot win. Together, they stand up behind their support beams and activate their bombs while drawing out swords. They turn toward their sworn enemies, the LNH gaurdsmen, and begin a silent charge through the smoke, using it to disguise their approach. As they reach the makeshift frontline that was originally to their right flank they see their attackers and begin a brutal assualt with great agility and speed with 26 seconds remaining. This is their best weapon.

The gaurds, having some veiwing capability through the smoke because of their mask, have a visual range of nearly 8 feet in the thickest fog. As the three terrorists emerge from the mist, the 10 men weilding assault rifles on the makeshift front raise them to fire, popping off shots in as many directions as they can in a confused stuper.

The warriors, bobbing and sidestepping through the mist, make swift slashes at their enemies. 15 second remain on the bombs' timers. The bombs of their comrades detinate behind them, but do not shake them.

Confused and scared, the troops begin firing in all directions as they drop to the ground one by one, some even shot by their comrades. Only 3 remain (this includes the two officers who are only armed with handguns), and they stand back to back to back, watching for any who approach.

Knowing their enemy (at least the one's nearest to them) is nearly vanguished, the warriors go in for a final charge, lunging their swords forward, but as they do they realise their timers are almost up and simply stroll toward the three remaining gaurds, stopping only 10 feet away. Their bombs detinate, destroying everything within the 30 foot radius.

Hearing the sudden cessation of gunfire, one of the marines cautiously peers around his cover. The other two cover him with their pulser rifles as he slowly steps through the battlefield, and prods one of the terrorist's body with his boot a couple times. "All clear." The other two marines step out from behind the supports, and the three begin checking each body, looking for any sign of life.

The other security force that had not been attacked also joins the search and sends a report to the military police. More security gaurds arrive and zone off the area. No forensic team is needed, all facts are known; so a clean up and reconstruction crew is ordered in immediately. The gaurd's dead bodies are taken away and what is left of the terrorists is simply treated as debry.

Darius emurges from the smoke and quickly heads to his transport, bringing his enterage with him. They head back to Hamunaptra so that Darius may speak with Vernii in order to keep the situation from getting out of line. He sits in front of his communicator, sending this communication to the Yacht for it's trip back:

"Greetings,
I send my greatest regrets for the death of the fine man and negotiator, Matthew Newlin, along with the young marines who died defending him and myself. I assure you that this security breach shall not happen again and great measures will be taken in order to continue negotiations. Please do not let this incident reflect badly upon our nation, for the rebel desert terrorists have plagued our lands for many years. Upon your return you shall be greeted with an army of military police force members, along with servants and transports to accomidate your own security force.
In Peace,
Darius of Liberated New Hope"

He then sends the letter.

Talia sneaks up behind Darius, skimming the letter for any important facts that she her masters may find useful. After finding what she needs she wraps her arms around Darius, whispering sweet nothing into his ear and dragging him off to bed.

"Men," she thinks, "so easily manipulated."

After she's had her fun she makes a run to the restroom, once again opening her "make up compact," relaying the information she has collected to her masters. The preist nods, and signs off, scampering off to report the information of the assasination of the Verniians by the desert terrorists and Darius's attempt to re-open negotiations, and the reason and effects of those negotiations (the destruction of the Seven Heads is one of many goals, including the elimination of the desert terrorists).

The remains of the delegation board the yacht, and it launches back up into space, setting course for the hyper-limit at maximum acceleration.

Five days later, including one full of much confusion and anger back in the Gregor system, a new delegation entered the system, aboard the light cruiser VNS Sereno. It's transponder identified it as a diplomatic vessel, and it transmitted a single message to the Sultanate. "This is the light cruiser Sereno of the Verniian People's Navy. We are carrying the new delegation for the renewal of the talks between our governments."

A security air/space traffic controller responds saying "Sereno, you are cleared for landing, proceed to doc 356-A for secured transport to Hamunaptra"

Several hours later the Sereno took up low orbit over the planet. A docking bay opened and one of the ship's pinnaces slid out, and flew down to land at the specified landing strip.

Eight marines step out of the pinnace first, then Ambassador Givens, escorted by another four. Then come the six other members of his delegation, and his servant, and the final twelve marines.

They are once again greeted by Darius, only this time he is only accompanied by one member of his entourage; Sedrick. Along with him is a squadron of 15 rangers (LNH's elite military force). They silently escort the delegate's men to one transport and he delegate to another. The transport is directly on the landing area, as to avoid entering the terminal. The rangers enter the troop transport and the 2 crafts begin to move directly toward Hamunaptra. Darius starts the conversation with the new Verniian delegate; "I'm glad that Vernii has decided to continue negotiations after the altercation with the terrorists."

"My government values this system's location. Also the fact that there is a nearby market of millions of potential customers helps that. There will be retribution upon those responsible for Newlin's death however."

"Ah, this was to be one of the main points of our negotiations. These terrorists have been nothng but a nuisance. Your help in "exterminating" them once and for all would be greatly appreciated."

"We will deal with the terrorists as I said. Most likely not extermination, but there will be consequences of their actions."

"They are nothing but trouble. They raid, the attack, they pillage. Thy know the desert better than we know our own streets and because of this we've found it impossible to find them, let alone kill them." This is said just as they arrive at the palace. Servants guide the Verniians to their rooms as Darius heads toward his quarters.

The Verniian delegation unpack their luggage and begin to settle in, in preparation for the talks. There is a slight nervousness about them, and the marines never unholster their sidearms.

Casually, Talia strolls down the great halls of the palace, her high heals clicking and clacking as she goes. It's late evening, and as she approaches the rangers gaurding the rooms in which the Verniian delegation stay, the Sultan's rangers grant her immediate passage, knowing she is in Darius's entourage. Talia then approaches the room of Ambassidor Givens. She has only to bypass the Verniian marines in order to reach her objective.

In a roomful of television monitors, a lone guard spies Talia making her way towards the delegation's hall. Quickly, he picks up a phone beside him and dials a few numbers. "Uh, yes. This is Security Monitoring Station G... yes... Connect me to Ambassador Darius's quarters please. Thank you."

A moment later a phone rings in Darius's quarters, and after a moment he answers: "Greetings"

Gaurd:"Sir, there's nothing to be worried about, but I just spotted Talia approaching Ambassador Givens' quarters. I just thought I'd alert you."

Darius (puzzled): "hm... Thanks, Bob. Talk to you later."

Darius was known as a man of the people, and he even took care to know the name and situation of all employees of the palace (not to mention every detail of the palace's operations and systems). He then hangs up the phone and quickly picks it up again. He dials a few numbers and waits for a responce:"Hello... This is Darius... Yes.. Yes... I want you to reroute video on cameras 18-A, B, E, and L to my personal quarters.... Yes ... clearance N83-9G3-86B. Thank you." He then turns to his Monitor and powers it on, now being able to watch Givens' quarters, the exterior hall, and all angles and views within these two areas.

The marine sentry standing outside Given's quarters straightens as Talia approaches. "The Ambassador is sleeping right now, what is your business with him?"

"Hi, sailor." She says as she stokes the bottem of marine's chin. "I just have a little... heh... treat for Mr. Ambassodor I'm certain he'd be very upset if he didn't get it." she says in a breathy, seductive voice. "You just make sure and tell him to contact Talia, K?... and you can stop by anytime, too." as she lets out a girlish giggle and walks away, back to her quarters.

OOC: If we could begin the talks now, that'd be great.

The next day (at noon to be precise), Darius sits down in the large conference room, grand with columns of marble, trimmed with gold, and decorated with great works of art. The table, which is nearly 20 yards long with many, many seats. The Verniians shall arive at any minute.

Just then, Talia (who is "friends" with the gaurds at the door) strolls into the room, sneaking up behind Darius, leaning down, and saying "Boo." But as she does this she attaches an extremely small device, a radio transmitter, onto his suit; looking much like a piece of lint. She states that she wishes to know what is going on.

Just then, Talia (who is "friends" with the gaurds at the door) strolls into the room, sneaking up behind Darius, leaning down, and saying "Boo." But as she does this she attaches an extremely small device, a radio transmitter, onto his suit; looking much like a piece of lint. She states that she wishes to know what is going on.

Shewing Talia away, he says that he'll tell her about it later and has Sedrick escort her out of the room and to her quarters, then return.

The delegation arrives, the marines take up guard positions near the doors and at other points around the room. The diplomats all take their seats. Givens opens up his briefcase and pulls a stack of papers out of it. He then folds his hands across them.

"So, Mr. Darius. My government is interested in building a naval base around your moon. We would also like to build a spaceport on this planet to accomodate merchant traffic. We offer financial compensation in return."

"Ah, and this moon base, what are its specifications? More over, the spaceport; will it take business away from the spaceports we already have. We can't go about angering the aristocrasy."

"The moon base would consist of an orbital Defender class fortress, and a repair station for our merchants and warships. The space port would just provide landing facilities for cargo shuttles, although plans for that could be scrapped if your facilities are deemed suitable, or easily upgraded."

"You will find that our facilities are amoung the most modern in the sector. Our industries represent the finest in competitive services and products. Your merchants can strike a deal with the Spaceport trust easily. And as for this moon base, it's presence here will leave our nation under the protection of Vernii, yes, but I find that it can pose a serious threat to our sovereignty. How does your nation plan to respect our autonomy? We have been a colony before and don't really like the idea."

"The fortress would simply be here to protect the repair station. There would probably be a garrison fleet of three heavy or light cruisers. It's primary purpose would be to provide a place for convoy escorts to trade off their wards, and for any ship in the sector to conduct routine maintenance and repairs, instead of having to travel back to Gregor. As for your concerns about your sovereignity, yes, you would be considered a protectorate, but your government will be allowed to stay in power. Your sovereignity would be respected, we wouldn't interfere in any internal politics."

"Our 'internal government.' And if we choose to expand beyond our planet and it's moons? Our military and economic activity shall be respected, as well, then. And about the fortress... I find that it is best that it orbits Tanzir, the least habited of them all. And what of increasment of ships in our sector? I do believe there should be some solid agreement about how many warships are allowed here at given times."

"Yes, governing this system will be left all up to you. We simply want trade rights and a fleet base. While I can't completely guarantee it, I imagine the heaviest deployment the base would ever see would be a battlecruiser squadron, if that. More likely it'd be one or two cruiser squadrons. And Tanzir is fine for a location."

"Good, good; then I propose that no more than one of your squadrons shall be allowed in our system unless we request, or it shall be viewed as a hostile action."

"Very well, now about the lease of the moon for the base. How does $200 million a year sound?"

"This sounds very good indeed. Mr. Ambassidor, I do believe we have stuck a deal."

"This sounds very good indeed. Mr. Ambassidor, I do believe we have stuck a deal."

"This sounds very good indeed. Mr. Ambassidor, I do believe we have stuck a deal."

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Darius." Givens stands up and bows, then opens his briefcase, and pulls out a small holoprojector.
"This is a gift from the President to your Sultan, as a token of our appreciation." He flips on the power button, and the projector displays a 3D image of the sector, with every star in it's exact position. "You can zoom in on any system in the sector." He taps the star labeled Gregor, and the sector map is replaced with a 3D map of the Gregor system, with every planet labeled, including Vernii.

OOC: I'll assume that the delegation would be escorted back to the yacht, and then they leave the system for Vernii.

Panicked by the news of the eventual destruction of her beloved homeland, Talia contacts her leaders immediately. The Cardinal widens his eyes in surprise, rushing to the Emperor to tell him of the oncoming Heathen Onslaught.

"Ready the fleet." The Emperor says calmly. "God shall give us the might to strike down the infidels!!!"

The Cardinal rushes off to warn the Admirals, who give the orders for the flight of the entire fleet. The entire Fleet of the Seven Heads orbits, ready for attack. All this taking only a matter of hours.

Yet another unit of five men march into "Jewel of the infidels, (also known as LNH's Capitol), all armed with sabers, plasma rifles, and suicide bombs. 6 other units such as this enter from all sides of the city. Each unit heading toward separate targets:

A disco near the center of the city

A police checkpoint on the outskirts

Two units head toward a local privately owned armes factory

Two units head toward two separate recruitment headquarters in the city

And one, composed of hardened veterans armed with high powered fully automatic plasma rifles, and bombs capable of detonating an area equivalent to 1/2 a city block head toward the palace.

All are prepared for death.

A patrolman sees five men in desert robes and sandals walking in formation downtown near the "clubbing" district; something is wrong here.

He calls on his radio for backup and a lookout for more men fitting the same description. In only a few minutes a Military Police transport arrives with 10 special forces troops armed with high powered assault rifles and protected by lightweight kevlar body armor. The men pour out of the transport and begin darting from building to building, following the five men.

Meanwhile the city wide alert allows officers to spot 2 other units headed towards the arms manufacturing district.

OOC: we'll just skip past this and say a bunch of people died and the palace sustained some damage, ok? As for now let's resume negotiations with Vernii.

I assume that post was supposed to be made from your other account. What else is there to negotiate? And here's an idea, why not send an ambassador to my system? It's a lot more secure.

Yes, you just start building that moon base as soon as the New Ortaga attack is overwith.

Emitting from a singular point, a brilliant flash of light beams forth, but is almost instantaneously eclipsed by a small craft.

“Hello Vernii… repeat, hello Vernii, do you read?” is rang our by the ship’s transmitter. Directly ahead is the Verniian home world.

“This is the LSS Luna requesting permission to land on surface, do you read?”

Darius comes from behind the pilot, placing his hand on the pilot’s shoulder and looking out at the brilliant planet before him. This Empire is so rich they’d never run out of materials to sell us he thinks to himself with a smile on his face. “Keep transmitting.”

Darius steps back into the cabin of the small transport and sits down next to a well groomed man who could be summed up in one word; “Jovial.” He was large in every sense of the word. His stature was something one had to look up to, and his width was something to be seen from side to side. Matching this was his booming voice and just as booming personality.

“If these Verniians have any respect for money, this deal should go down like a prostitute with twenty dollars in her pocket.” Like so many of his other attributes, his speech was crude and to the point.

Constantine Tiberian III. His name was as large as the rest of him, and although it had descended from the Seven Heads high clergy he never even thought to change it, for every time someone mispronounced it it gave him a reason to correct them. When his family fled from New Hope to their new home on True Hope he was only a child. His upbringing in this new society have him an uncanny love and brilliance with money. When he was only twenty-two he earned his first million heading a dried and salted food chain while exploiting every labor law he could worm his way around. Since then he has become so wealthy that when the national government is in trouble they go to him. He personally owns enough of True Hope to start his own small country, and has sole mining and colonization rights to LNH’s largest moon; Al’ Raside. By the age of 38 he had been appointed Internal Trade Commissioner and since then has expanded his influence to control nearly all foreign transactions. His current official position is “Economic Secretary to the Sultan,” but can more easily be described as the man who REALLY rules Liberated New Hope.

“The first rule of business, my friend; everyone has they’re price, and no matter what it is, I can afford it. HAHAhaha… ha… hooo.” His humor was almost completely based on either his own immoral habits or his own ridiculous wealth (things that often compliment one another quite well). “Just let me handle this and we’ll have our titanium and anything else we need in a week... or less!”

A transmission was sent from one of the larger space stations in orbit over Vernii, dozens of freighters and other civilian passenger ships were clustered around it.

"LSS Luna, this is Gregor Traffic Control. Please state your destination and business in this system. A flight plan will be assigned to you momentarily."

"Gregor, LSS Luna carries officers to negotiate trade with local corperation and seeks to land at Cardona Spaceport." The pilot says while checking readings and adjusting several controls at once.

"Very well, we are uploading a flight plan to your nav computer now. Don't deviate from it. You are cleared for landing at Cardona Spaceport, it's controllers will guide you in to one of the secondary shuttle pads."

"Thank you, Gregor. We will proceed to landing pad."

The craft decends to the landing pad and the door opens. Darius steps out first, surveying the area before him and proceeds down the short starway to the pad. Tiberian follows, almost woddling down and stands next to his compatriate. "They call THIS a spaceport? HA! I've got better facilities in my shitter!"

"Could you pipe down, you blabbering idiot. For Sultan's sake you're going to screw over this whole deal if you insult these guys the minute you meet them. How you got all that money puzzled the hell right out of me, but if you don't just shut up for this we're going to lose it all." Daruis attempts to say under his breath.

"I GOT all that money because I'm not a pussy about every little thing I do, cough cough." Mind you, those coughs were spoken and not forced out of his throat as he nudged the diplomat directly in the stomach.

"Just do your job and don't get defencive!" Darius begins to get somewhat frustrated.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm calmer than you are."

"Would you shut up?"

"Calmer n' you are."

This continues for what seems like hours, with neither side allowing the other to have the last word.

A few minutes after the shuttle lands, three maintenance technicians drive up in a cart loaded with equipment. "Hey, you guys were supposed to head to customs by now. Unless you enjoy standing around on a tarmac that is," one of them says.

Tactful as always, Darius smiles and says "Oh, we apologize, we've never been to..."

He's recieves a hard elbow to the ribs as Tiberian interupts, "Of course we don't enjoy standing on this forsaken tarmac, we've just been waiting for our ride there. Last time we were here we were escorted in something a little more dignified than this horse and buggy."

Darius whispers, "But Constanine, we've never been here before!"

"You're just clueless, aren't you? You never let anyone KNOW you're new in town. That's when you get your pants stolen right off of your ass."

Darius shakes his head with his eyes closed. "I swear you're going to get us both fired. Not that it would matter to you, but I actually ENJOY my job."

"Now, if you would make use of that little radio you've got right there and call us a taxi it'd be MOST appreciated" Tiberian says as he flips the man a rather large gold coin.

"The main terminal is only a short way, besides, as I said, you have to go through customs first, then call yourself a cab on your own!" The technician tosses the coin back to Tiberian.

"Idiot" Darius mutters under his breath.

"You shut that big gaping hole in your head you refer to as a mouth. Call out your goons," he begins in a sure voice, "we're taking a walk, and I don't feel like being harrassed by any two bit peddlers."

They begin their stroll (Tiberian woddles, but that's beside the point) as two body gaurds dressed terribly as tourists (that is, all accept their matching black sunglasses and earpeices) and pulling rather lage trunks on wheels behind them pace fastly to catch up to the two dignitaries.

They finally reach customs (both are amazed by the short line) and wait.

A bored looking customs officer sits behind the counter, wearing the white and red uniform of a spaceport official. She asks each person for their photo ID, and after making a copy of each ID, hands each of them a clipboard with questions and a pen.

The questions are:

Name:
Gender:
Age:
Profession:
Purpose of visit:
Duration of stay:
Nation of Origin:

Are you carrying any diseases?
Are you carrying any personal weapons?
Are you in possession of any drugs?
Do you have a criminal record?
Are you in possession of any foreign flora or fauna?


While Darius and company are filling out the forms, two customs officials search through their luggage for any contraband.

Double Post

Darius fills out his form

Name: Darius
Gender: Male
Age: 34
Profession: High Diplomat to the Sultan
Purpose of visit: Materials Purchase
Duration of stay: Unknown
Nation of Origin: Liberated New Hope

Are you carrying any diseases? Mild Athelete's foot
Are you carrying any personal weapons? None
Are you in possession of any drugs? Asperin
Do you have a criminal record? None
Are you in possession of any foreign flora or fauna? No.

Meanwhile Tiberian fills out his form...

Name: Constantine Tiberius III
Gender: Male
Age: 46
Profession: Head
Purpose of visit: Materials Purchase
Duration of stay: Unknown
Nation of Origin: Liberated New Hope

Are you carrying any diseases? Healthy
Are you carrying any personal weapons? Nope
Are you in possession of any drugs? None What-so-ever.
Do you have a criminal record? Only Minor offences
Are you in possession of any foreign flora or fauna? Nope.

They both hand the man their forms.

"Very well. Your luggage checks out fine, move along." The customs officer waves dismissively toward the terminal's exit. "Next!"

The two and their guards proceed to a local upper-class hotel where they begin to make calls.

Tiberian can be heard from the other side of the room:"Yes... yes... A pleasure doing business with you."

"You struck a deal with the miners already??" Darius cries with a concerned voice.

"No, I just got us a Pizza."

Darius shakes his head. He sits down in front of a wall mounted monitor and says "Computer, find metallic materials mining and shipping companies in the area."

"Regional, planetary, system, or sector locations?" The computer says in a soft feminine voice.

"Planetary, please."

"Please wait." The speakers announce in the same soothing voice. "Six hundred and forty-two results found," the computer says, startling Darius. "Computer, narrow search to companies specializing in titanium and aluminum alloys."

There is a small pause, soon followed by "Sixty-three results found." Daruis continues to narrow his search down to his needed specifications until only two corporations are left.

Transplanetary Mining Operations, headquartered just across the district, and

Singular Metallics, with a branch only a few minutes flight away.

"Well, Constantine: it looks as though we've found ourselves what we've been looking for." Darius announces with pride.

"Ah, good boy; Darius. You get a cookie."

"Shut up."

The two agree to get some rest before they attempt any kind of deal, but first make sure to make an appointment with the TMC for the very next morning by way of telephone. They eat their pizza and get a good night's sleep.

They next morning the two awaken, get ready, and begin their trip to the Transplanetary Mining Operations Headquarters. They grab a cab, along with two body guards, and arrive at the front doors promptly. "Well, this place looks classy enough." Darius mutters as they approach the large glass doors."

"Bof, I've seen better entry ways on a whore-house."

Darius pretends to not hear his comment. As they enter and see a receptionist across the large marble entry way. "Hello, ma'am? We have an appointment a mister..." Darius begins to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket before Tiberian interrupts.

"Nathanial T. Guldsworth. I believe he's some sort of costumer service... engineer of sorts."

The young lady bubbles with courtesy and good manor (along with a touch of "blondness" which can be seen through the absence of awareness in her eyes), "I'm sorry, sirs, but he's a bit busy right now. If you could have a seat right over there I'll be right with you."

The two take their seats, wondering what success could be made through the oncoming negotiations. "That young lady was a few french fries short of a happy meal, if you know what I mean, Darius" Tiberian whispers to his partner.

"Excuse me, but I found her rather nice." Darius hardly keeps at a whisper.

"Oh, and I can see why," Tiberian responds while distracted by the woman's low cut shirt.

Darius looks at him for a moment, and then at the object of his attention. "Quit that!" He says, slapping him on the arm, "You're going to get us kicked out of here."

The two begin to argue when a chipper voice stops them. "Mr. Guldworth will see you now, he's up those elevators to the 4th floor, he's office number 1801."

"Thank you, ma'am." Darius attempts to keep himself a gentleman.

The two then follow the path said to them until they enter a large, wood trimmed office with a tall backed, padded chair facing away from them; concealing whomever was sitting in it.