NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: Currently, only Camel Eaters will be allowed to post here, as this is to be the first contact between our nations. However, contact me by TG if you wish to get involved, and we can discuss it further.]

The O-7 system. The Osente system.

In the seething core of this shattered system was a dim, swirling mass of gas and debris. At the center was a dying white dwarf star, its light nothing as it once was. The entire system istelf was a desolate wasteland of space. Centering around Osentehai and Osentagri, the two largely inhabited planets, was a small bustle of activity as there was a fluctuation of activity. There was a mass migration away from the dead system. Yet on the fringes, a dangerous thread remained, hiding in the shroud of the debris.

In the Eastern sector of the system, a distress signal called out.It beat like a heart, mechanically, never missing a beat. It knew that it was much too far from the Guilder settlements, as it hung on the very edge of the rings of debris and the cold, empty void of deep space. The transmission was blocked from reaching the Guilds, they were isolated completely, trapped by the nebulae barrier they were pushed through by their attackers. The transmission travelled through space faster than the speed of light, not reaching the deep Osente system but reaching out for help beyond.

"Way hey and away go Donkey Riding, Donkey Riding. Way hey and away we go riding on a donkey." This tune carried throughout the ship that bore the name of the song. Claps and stomps of each ship tied to the Donkey Riding greated the ears of the casual observer when the insanely loud pulse of it all got stronger in each ship that bore it's name. On the CERS Quebec they even got roudy enough to fire a low charged barrel shot straight out into the hangar. The CERS Mennemeshee began to drink copiously. The CERS Fortune Bay hammered out a long strings of 1s and 0s that formed into a repeating loop of their part of the song. The CERS Cape Horn headbanged and the CERS Frederickton just kinda smiled and nodded approvingly. Then the song stopped.

"We gots a trapped ship in Osente y'all!" Everyone just threw down what they were doing and went to stations. They'd jump most likely....unless they wanted to take three years to get there. Bard Ffarywven shook his head from the sleep he'd been deeply in. Turning over to see some gal from the CERS Mennemeshee in his bed he frowned and lifted himself easily and hopped out. Running to the bridge he sat down at his little station and began looking over the distress signal.

Thinking a moment he typed it out in morse code and danced some in his chair before replying to the best of his ability as the ship slipped into a elongated state that was the best for somewhat randomized gate crashes into unknown systems. They zipped in Ffarywven still replying to the message.
He looked it over and sent it quickly.

"This is the CERS Donkey Riding. We have received your signal and are here tae help. Do not attack. Repeat do not attack."

He stood and went to the screen which showed the enviroment that the ship was currently in. He saw the Osente system and just quirked an eyebrow. "Wow this place is a might suck ass ain't it?"

OOC: I felt like it. Now your turn.

There was a very still silence. However, soon, there was a message being sent, and when accepted, a video feed came on screen. Peering into the darkness, they could discern a vaguely humanoid shape (http://img111.echo.cx/img111/9189/coordinator2dd.jpg) with dim yellow-orange eyes leering through the one-way transmission. It began to communicate through a syntehsized voice that was deep and mechanical. It was slightly unsettling, but undoubtfully the crew of Donkey Riding had seen worse. The language used was hopefully one they knew, it was derived from a Terran language that the Omar had added to their memory during their forays to the Mars colonies.

"Sovereigns of the CERS Donkey Riding, the Omar Guilds receive your message. We will not open fire. We were attacked by unknown fighters, and require assistance. We are the Cargo Ship Tha-Ni, and were travelling outside the rim of the Osente system to pick up a shipment of incoming resources, as the Osente system's hazards prevent FTL movement."

Ffarwyven cocked an eyebrow and stood up. "Captain we got traders here. I want permission to use the Newfie to retrieve them from their position and fix them up in hangar 6."

Captain Kells Cu Munster thought for a moment. His gut told him yes. Though he usually wouldn't of given the situation. There had been a build up of eletrical discharge in this region lately...he'd allow it.

"Fine but remember the Newfie is a rider aboard a rider. It's comms are not nearly strong enough to transmit over this static. So once you go you're going to have limited communications out to about 200 yards. After you're on your own until you drag them back." Ffarwyven nodded and smirked at the captain who would soon be his brother-in-law just as soon as they made it back to Alabama and he couldn't wait to watch his brother marry such a good man.

Running down to the hangar that the Fortune Bay was concealed in he climbed inside startling the 5 crewmen inside for a moment before they settled back in and he climbed into the small poddish towboat on the side of the Fortune Bay's mechanical shield. He had ridden the Newfie many times before. He smiled at the ship's nickname. The Bard's Beetle, ah well he had to do something now. Removing everything else from his mind he concentrated as the Fortune Bay lifted off the hangar bay and took off at lightning speeds. He punched a few buttons and felt the Newfie drop while still in the gravity net. He was being sucked towards the engines at an alarming rate. Didn't phase him though. He saw the slip he'd be taking. And took it. Zipping through the gravity net like it wasn't there at all he shot off towards the Omar ship.

Ffarwyven opened up channels right next to it.

"Aight y'all intiating engage right here. So be careful and don't even try to move away. Cause you'll be taking me with you and I will try to go the other way." He backed up engaging the mag locks to the Omar ship. He drew a deep breath and started tugging the ship back towards the CERS Donkey Riding. When he was within reach of comms he said quickly.

"Y'all turn off the gravity net we're coming in and I can't really bring them in like this. One of us'll be sucked into the engines." The ship shimmered a moment as the gravity net dropped away. Both ships lurched for a moment as it hit them rather softly. Then he took the Omar in quickly. The hangar door opened and a new gravity net was activated almost as soon as they were in. Ffarwyven exited and look the Omar ship over. "Hmm."

He climbed back into the Newfie and disengaged the mag locks turning ponderously (is that even a word?) it zoomed out and away to reengage the Fortune Bay.....

A techie squad came down almost immediatlely afterwards with an armed escort they approached the ship tentatively and knocked to try and get those inside to open up.....

The vessel's body, excluding the leg like structures, elongated into a tail that was the same size as the legs in length, doubling the size of the entire ship. It ended in a spade, with a bulbous, blue oval on the top and bottom. Upon closer examination, it seemed to be made of a semi liquid substance. Eventually, there was the sound that seemed to be similar to gas being released from a small space. Slowly falling from the liquid like substance were three pods, which fell upon the floor of the hangar, shaking it slightly as the steam like sound came out as they opened up, to reveal what was inside.

Three Omar stood up, two with heavy armor standing in front of the smaller one, which spoke with a synthesized voice that was alien, yet spoken in a local terran dialect.

"We are the Omar. We do not wish any hostilities, we only wish to survive. We will not harm you or your crew unless you will hostilities upon us."

The techs stumbled back and fell squarely on their asses as the ship opened up. Guards stepped forward and lowered their guns in the same instant. A man stepped to the front and bowed low to the smaller Omar.

"I am Juan Saint Claire-Deville de Valera Hannon. Chief Ambassador aboard the Donkey Riding. I hope that you are well and most of your crew survived the attack upon your ship. And if they did not we offer whatever we can spare for their burial according to your culture. If you will allow us we would be happy to help you repair your ship and will of course escort you home."

He paused for a moment and flinched as the doors into the hangar slid open. Ffarwyven walked down the plank and looked the Omar up and down. He shrugged and patted Juan on the shoulder affectionately.

"So how y'all like the ride down." He paused for a moment remembering his words just now. He'd hit a note that was synonomous with freedom. Used in war songs and ballads of freedom he hadn't meant to use it now. He watched the Omar for any sign he might have affected them in some way....

There was a silence. The Trader seemed to dismiss it as he stepped forward. It was only afterward, as he spoke, with a pause, that seemed to have it be processed, and finally clicked in his mind. He seemed to ignore it, and any sort of expression gained from it was lost behind the mask.

"Casualties will be taken care of by recycling of portable and inportable resources. We have our own systems for this. We currently have them frozen under cryogenics for later use. We only wish to be recovered, the ship itself can be repaired through Omar technology."

Ffarwyven's voice was raspy as he shrugged and turned to leave. Juan still hanging around for a moment afterwards before leaving as well. The techs hung around running the ship over with their hands staring at it the way that they stared when new technology was brought before them. They were quick to start an argument to decide what made what go.

Ffarwyven returned with a lawn chair and sat down. Juan brought a case of whiskey and vodka and handed a bottle to the bard. They sat and joked like old friends that they were. After a few bottles Ffarwyven stood and launched into a song about freedom, justice, and unending rivers of whiskey. The guards all bobbed their heads with it and Juan came along with a song about a dead man and his family needing to rob in order to survive. Both where filled with invocations of the feelings that the song conveyed. One of the guards struck up a beat on the floor. Like thunderous drums they exploded in a cacophony of sound. Soon songs from around the world where swelling upwards and all over the hangar bay.

The someone found a jug and began whistling the tune to Cotton Eyed Joe in it. Everyone shouted and stomped the floor in a whiskey induced madness. Everyone took up the song. A female tech took up the woman's part in it and after five renditions Ffarwyven's face went deathly pale. He stepped next to the ship and knocked softly. "Hope we didna disturb y'all!"

There was the longest pause. A silence as the music died down and a stillness suffocated the air. There was that distinct sound of a foot sinking in the peat bog under a heavy boot, as five Protectors, heavily armored, stepped our, one with a strange, elongated device over its shoulder. They slowly filed there way to the center of the hanger. One of them placed down a cyrofoam board on the floor, think and ready for some serious ownage.

The Protector with the device nodded its head, and placed its finger on a seeming button. Suddenly, a beat began to resound in the hangar, and with a sudden techno jump, the club dance beat began, emnating from the device and the Omar swaying to the music as they warmed up, snapping their fingers to the very fast beat. One of them smiled, with a very distinct voice.

"Let's do this."

Suddenly, one came out and began to sway his arms from side to side to the fast beat of the club song, "Robot Rockerz" by Komputer Kontroller. He then began to jerk around, with the imitation robot dance that seemed to be straight out of the poseur handbook. His fellow comrade derided him with some shoulds, and one stepped beside him. He swayed his arms in front of him and walked backwards in a repeated fashion, actually doing the real robot. But then, the big boy of the bunch stepped forward, gesturing for them to stand back.

"Vacuous. Commence breakdance."

He spun across the cryofoam board, swinging his legs in an almost impossible acrobatic twist, making a 720* spin one his side into a barrelroll and landing on his hand, twisting up and landing on his left leg, switching the legs and then laying flat, holding up his head at the Camel Eaters.

"Status report. You just got served."

A silence enveloped the Camel Eaters hangar crew. They cocked their heads to the side as one and stepped forward. Legs swung in the air as a rave almost burst from the air. But Ffarwyven managed to steady himself and went up to one of the Protectors as the rest of those in the hangar where eyeing each other up ready to go into another song if need be. Just to prove how much more leet they were.

"I thought y'all were emotionless cyborg thingies with bad breath. Damn I guess that's the type that is fond of techno though." Then a thought occured to him. He swung round and pulled a mini-fiddle out.

"One for the road folks! Let's hear it for the Donkey Riding." As one they took up arms, in the musical sense, and sung Donkey Riding with great zeal. After that a man stepped forward and did the brush-off on his shoulders. Pivoting he said in a jokingly bad monotone. "You are descended from the line of Boran. The greatest losers of all time. Your only nod towards history can be your overall lack of warmanship and intelligence. You are those who farm the semen of horses. Yes your blood and heritage just got served." Most of those behind him burst out laughing though one did punch him in the throat.

Ffarwyven stepped forward and shrugged. "It's funny to us cause that's the type of insult we have. Though we can have a silver tongue in times of extreme neediness."

He laughed some as he sat back down in the lawnchair. "Vacuous commence breakdance. Simply hilarious........."

The Omar looked to each other. One of them stepped up to the feisty one with the mouth.

"Vacuous. You are inadequately built. You couldn't survive in any hostile enviroment with your fragile organic body. Your sense of adaptation is lacking. Our eugenics are of the finest craft, and can beat any mudblood of yours. Think twice, and please kill yourself in the process, as I know your simple mind cannot make such an operation."

The man turned around and smirked. "For someone who wants to be a machine you've quite a fetish for eugenics. Why don't you go back onto your little dance floor and do the robot like your programmed too. Yae couldna have an original thought if yaer life depended on it." He turned away and sucked down some whiskey.

"Hell even a babe can drink whiskey. Yae can't. Your not a man. Your not even worth looking at."

He continued to suck down whiskey and sat on the floor lookin up at the Protector. Before lying back and taking a bit of a nap.

The Protector stared at the man. It placed its hands around the sides of its head, and then hesistated, and turned.

"Your not worthy to know anything."

He walked off, and soon, they all eventually allleft, and once again things were quiet.

Most of the excess men left and just some drunk techies and Ffarwyven was all that was left. He got up during the night and stumbled over to the Omar ship. Throwing down his pants he began to urinate along the hull. Rubbing his face he groaned and felt the leak sated.

Crawling back over to his bedroll he drifted in and out of slumber for a moment. Then he looked up for a moment and noticed something standing over him.

"Heya buddy." He stared into the humanoid eyes of the Trader Omar...

The Trader faced away towards the ship.

"I would not appreciate your men sayign such words to the Omar, especially those of the Protectors. Understand that we are very dedicated to the Trinity of Adaptation.Conquest.Survival and have made sacrifices for it, it does not deserve derision."

Ffarwyven nodded and sighed.

"Don't let the boyos get to you manny. We all know how important heritage is. Even if it's a strange heritage such as your own. I'll talk to them about it. But what I saw here today was strange. I thought you were all supposed to be soulless machines. But music requires soul. And you made music. That's really amazing. A new scientific breakthrough. For all sentience."

He smiled and gestured for the Trader to sit down and talk with him some...