NationStates Jolt Archive

Datapacket. Looks clean. Neutral Station XSS1. Checks out. Journeyman said, summoning the package onto the captain's interface.

"Rules and regulations... Welcome to Xeno space station one... Blah blah blah... Looks alright. Did you get any scans on the other ships...?" Ebris asked, as his fellow ship officers looked about. Their interfaces were standard, and they were all looking forward to shore leave. The Hauler wasn't new, and even home sometimes felt painful. No matter how nice the interior.

Of course I did. The ships are required to power down arms, and I am checking the crew's right to bear arms laws now. I'm querying a datalink. And looking for another AI to confer with.

This is Journeyman AI to XSS1 Command. I have some requests - do you have AI systems aboard, and are they willing to converse...? Standard fare - Journeyman, like most other ship AIs, would converse and confer with the ships in port, and even the station AIs. A regular little social gathering, as it were.

An elegantly designed and furnished carrier ship cruised closer to the XSS1 Space Station after only seconds before, exiting hyper-space. Onboard the KDS-Maverick was a Kinwaran Delegate group including bodyguards and various tradegoods Kinwara was using to 'sweeten the deal' for The Xeno. As they cruised closer a smooth voiced negotiator attempted to establish communication with the Space Station.

"XSS1 Space Station, this is the Kinwara owned Maverick. Requesting permission to dock and enter the station."

As noted in the rules, individuals may bear arms but firearms and lasers must be unloaded.

Reply to AI,
There are several AI systems aboard XSS1 that ships may interact with. The private AI systems cannot grant access for security purposes.

An elegantly designed and furnished carrier ship cruised closer to the XSS1 Space Station after only seconds before, exiting hyper-space. Onboard the KDS-Maverick was a Kinwaran Delegate group including bodyguards and various tradegoods Kinwara was using to 'sweeten the deal' for The Xeno. As they cruised closer a smooth voiced negotiator attempted to establish communication with the Space Station.

"XSS1 Space Station, this is the Kinwara owned Maverick. Requesting permission to dock and enter the station."

The communications system would relay that the ship is indeed cleared to dock, and a data packet would be sent over with a roadmap of which dock to use as well as some rules and regulations.

Private AIs tend to believe themselves more important, conceited silicon morons. Station wide AIs are easier to converse with. Thankyou. Docking vector locked. Journeyman out.

There, much easier.

Ebris, you may carry weapons, but they must be deactivated.

"Understood. I'll tell Swekk she can't take her toys with her. Have you seen Bran?"

Your son is watching from observation deck three, he's with Engineer Jaxe's son Millin. Those two have been getting on rather well. Noted the AI happily - the children aboard represented the next generation of crew for the six generation old ship. The two teenagers were inseperable. The AI suspected something more was going on, but then, who was it to judge?

Ebris muttered something under his breath about pranksters, which was not evaded by the AI's hearing.

Docking manuevers complete. Have fun, captain. Tell Bran and Millin that the Adult Entertainment Centres aboard this facility prohibit 17 year olds from entering. They should consider other avenues of amusement this time round. If you didn't know any better, you'd almost think Journeyman enjoyed this.

"I'll keep that in mind. Swekk doesn't need any more assault and battery charges laid against her, pulling those two out of bar fights."

They routinely switch of their interfaces, so good luck finding them before they run off. I'll keep a close watch on the security channel for the two.

There are literally hundreds of other sources of entertainment available on XSS1 other than nudy-shows. The Xenos try to give off an excellent public image, and they tend to succeed at it. Security is class A, the public areas of the station are spotlessly clean.

OOC: Begrudge me my sense of humour. I like making posts amusing at the expense of my characters. Don't worry, the boys won't get into too much trouble.

IC:

Bran and Millin had, the moment the docking seals had chimed a good seal, raced off into the station, the two teens rushing off with the exuberance and wonder that only youth could provide.

"Certainly is interesting." Noted Millin, stretching and yawning like some charicature of a man, interface necklace glinting under his genuine wool pullover, showing through the armoured jumpsuit all engineers wore - superconducter netting and ceramal armour plates in strategic locations. He towered over his childhood friend Bran, who looked about himself with the same kind of boredom all teens adopted at that age. 'Seen one, seen it all.'

"I wonder what this place offers anyway? I didn't see a station map on the way in. Although it may have been eclipsed behind you, Millsey." Bran quipped. Millin was easily 6'9, all wiry and and hard-work earned muscle. He dwarfed Bran's 5'7 thin frame, clad in jeans and white shirt. A cuirass of ceramal plate and an safed thin-gun hung under his left arm. He'd strategically placed a brown jacket over this.

"Funny, wise guy. I didn't hear you complaining beforehand." Retorted the tall boy. Bran flipped him off and glared, before activating his own interface unit, a bracelet on his left wrist.

You rang, oh master? Journeyman joked.

"Cute. What is there to do on a station like this?"

What did you have in mind? Surely not more drinking contests. Swekk had a bruise for -

"That was an error in judgement on my part. Entertainment...?"

Querying.

~~~

Journeyman connected with the station AI, and was greeted by a sub-drone, much to its chagrin. Sub-drones were sent out when the Station AI was busy elsewhere.

Wonderful. I would like information of the entertainment facilities of this station please.

Onboard the Maverick operator's in the communications room were hastily preparing to accept datamaps from the space station which were then to be sent on to Mr. Norhal, the Chief Delegate onboard. Commands were being shouted across the small room as the datamaps begun to download into the ship's internal main frame, which stored a history of all sent and recieved messages.

*****

A royally dressed man knocked on the superbly carved wooden oak door that was the entrance to the Delegate's onboard chamber.

"Enter."

The man opened the door quickly, entered and made sure that he closed the door quietly before addressing the regal man sitting in a throne-like chair infront of him, surrounded by many bodyguards.

"Mr. Delegate, sir. We have recieved rules and regulations that are respected and upheld while we are in the space station. At this moment we are currently entering the space station and preparing to dock."

Norhal simply nodded.

The man drew a breath and began to ramble all of the rules and regulations that were sent through. As he finished speaking the delegate stood gracefully to his full extended 7 foot stature and bowed to the man.

"Thank you. As this is a neutral zone I can trust to be safe here. I will leave my bodyguards here while I make contact. For Kinwara."

"For Kinwara." The room repeated.

Subdrone:

"There are currently 4 public entertainment decks with activities ranging from laser tag and paintballing to coffee-poetry houses. We feature entertainment from over sixty cultures and sub-cultures, many of which are from 21st century Earth."

I'm chaperoning a pair of bored teenage human males, sexuality unknown, could you give me a brief or abridged list, please. Sighed the AI, the irony in its simulated voice almost as tangible as the Sub-drone's own lack of emotion.

What is this station's AI up to? Mused the AI.

~~~

Apologies, you two, Sub-drones have no imagination. The AI said, nanoseconds after enquiring to the sub-drone.

"Take you time, Journeyman." Mocked Bran, looking around boredly.

OOC: Gah, double post.

I'm chaperoning a pair of bored teenage human males, sexuality unknown, could you give me a brief or abridged list, please. Sighed the AI, the irony in its simulated voice almost as tangible as the Sub-drone's own lack of emotion.

What is this station's AI up to? Mused the AI.

~~~

Apologies, you two, Sub-drones have no imagination. The AI said, nanoseconds after enquiring to the sub-drone.

"Take you time, Journeyman." Mocked Bran, looking around boredly.

Subdrone:
"Processing now."
a) Holomovie theatre
b) Arcades
c) Zero-G racing facility
d) Female exotic dancing
e) Male exotic dancing
f) Music stores

Thankyou. Subdrone. Give my compliments to your master.

~~~

Here you are:

a) Holomovie theatre
b) Arcades
c) Zero-G racing facility
d) Female exotic dancing
e) Male exotic dancing
f) Music stores

Anything pique your wide and varying interests?

"Oooh. Arcades."
"Holomovies?" Suggested one of them, looking at the other with a look of relcutance.
"Do you want me to fall asleep on you?"
"Good point, your thick skull weighs a tonne."
"Bloody riotous. I could make an E-book of jokes based off your withering wit."
"Music?"
"That's what we have pirate systems for."
You mean me. Pirating Imperial Data Streams. For your personal enjoyment. And I'm the indentured AI... Bitched the AI. It's cries of woe went ignored.
"Zero G racing?"
"A chance to whup your ass? I'd do it simply to bolster my ego."
"Boasting about your lack of talent again?"
Ye-esss. Well, children, Inner Ring, Zero G berth - take the elevator.
"Thanks, O Receptacle of Wisdom."
Bran, I'll cut gravity to your bathroom if you call me that again, captain's son or no. Warned the AI amiably.
"Touchy."
I am AI. I don't have touch. I do have a killer sense of humour, and two hundred other people currently aboard wanting my guidance. Have fun, don't get into too much trouble, and lay of the alcohol this time around.

~~~

Swekk, Ebris, and Jolene strolled along the market place, looking for a sales-rep.

"I have six tonnes of Case-hardened Ceramal with high temperature superconductor netting, made out for Imperial warships, on board my ship. Molycircs, etched-atom processors, and AG units." He said to a rep, who directed him to the back of the markets, Swekk tensing as he smiled lecherously in her direction.

As long as he didn't touch her, nothing would happen. He prayed this little man didn't touch the slightly unstable, tall woman. He cleared his thorat audibly and walked on. Pleading silently with the Amazonian Swekk to follow.

OOC: I'm off. Time to sleep.

Subdrone: Affirmative. *contact broken*

“Lets try thisss one *hic*, I like the sign!” yelled Corporal Rogers, crossed eyed.
“Whats it called?” mumbled Corporal Stipz, trying to rub the vodka out of his loud Hawaiian shirt.
“I dunno…” shouted Rogers as he fell through the door.

“It’s a gay club!” yelled Stipz over the music
“No, No! Look *hic* women… I’m going to go speak to one… errr I’m going to get a drink first…”
“Aye.. err. *Hic*”

The 2 soldiers stumbled over to bar and hammered a credit chip onto the surface, waving to the bartender. Putting on their best ‘I’m not drunk’ pose, chest out and head staring at the ceiling.
“2 of the strongest vials you have barkeep!” yelled Rogers over the music.

Stipz had rolled down the side of the bar at this point and was standing uncomfortably close to one of the female customers…
“I loveee you… and I’m going to tell you a secret… I bet… being the wonderful woman you are… you’ve heard we’ve heard that we want a jumpgate at the station! A Jumpgate! Now I bet you don’t know why?” yelled Stipz, slipping slowly down to the floor, “I’ll tell you why! We’ve mined everything else in the colonies… it’ll be the only way in and out! This is the most important station in Wintrees… and I’m the most important CORPORAL in Wintrees because of it! Not many people know that… suhhhhh, don’t tell anyone… go back to your place?….zzzz” he hit the ground with a thud and fell asleep.

It was a wild place, with wild things going on. The bartender would mix two drinks, and under the blacklights, they were actually -glowing- neon. The liquid inside glowed a bright orange.

He reached across and set the two glasses on the bar and credited it to his tab.

"Cheers!" yelled Rogers, taking the glasses and stumbling over to where Spitz was sat on the floor. Rogers gave him a kick to wake him, nearly over balancing himself in the process, Spitz to exception took this and lashed out at Rogers stomach, connecting a punch and causing Rogers to crumple up and fall backwards.

Wth both men on their feet now, quickly reacting to the assumed threat from each other, they started to fight. Spitz was thrown across the stage, smashing into one of the male dancers and flying off the other side, landing on a table and smashing it.

Rogers followed him over, half to see if he was ok, and half to land a few more sucker punches before the shore patrol showed up... or whatever came first.

In this particular establishment, fighting is rather frowned upon. The drunken and disorderly conduct is usually conducted in a different manner, which lead to some gossip on the station.

Moments later, a team of towering, black-armored Xeno marines would burst in and move towards the combatants, breaking up the little fights here and there rather forcefully.

Spitz was passed out on the floor, Rogers saw the marines and tried to make a break for the door, smashing into one of the Xeno marines. Getting knocked back, he spun and landed under one of the tables, knocking himself out.

The pair would be cuffed and carried out with several other of the hooligans. They'd wake up hours later in the brig of the XSS1. Or one of the many brigs, anyway. Their ship would be notified of their presence, so they may be bailed out if desired.

Bran and Millin had watched the fight from across the street, of course defying their AI's instructions and simply milling about.

"Big armoured Marines, drunken fighting... And Exotic Dancing." Bran pointed to the holograph on the entrance plate, extolling its virtues like a good little machine.

"I am so there." Grinned Millin, striding off to the bar, leaving Bran to catch up.

A large, armored hand came down to press against Millin's chest, stopping him cold feet before he could enter the building. When he looked up at the black, mirrored faceplate/blast shield of the Xeno he saw only his own reflection. Above the blast shield there are a couple of strange red symbols, rank insignia. On the left collarbone of the armored suit, there are more symbols and lettering.

The other hand swung outwards, pointing a finger at the sign that clearly reads, "21+ ONLY" in a dozen languages hanging beside the door.

In the backround, a drunk takes a swing at one of the Marines, his fist clanking against the Xeno's armored breastplate. The Marine looked down, then at the drunk whose face was stricken at the poor results of his blow. The Marine whipped his segmented tail around, clobbering the man on the back of the head. The unconscience form was unceremoniously hauled off by the waistband of his trousers.

Millin's face flushed, and a scowl began to grow on his young face. Bran, ever mindful of his taller friend's temper, quickly interceded, grabbing and tugging Millin's hand in desperation. He eventually tugged him away from the marine.

"No more fighting. Nomad STILL has us banned from their facilities in port. Not a good idea." Hissed Bran, as he dragged the tall boy away from the marine, whom had tracked their progress rather patiently, its weapon slung at low arms, but following Millin doggedly.
"Well, what do you want to do?" Groused Millin, fingering his interface, his violet glare focused on the shorter man.
"We could always check out the planet." Suggested Bran, voice calm. Millin needed no more fuel. Calming him down would be the order. "It's got to be better than sitting around in a theatre or even pretending to enjoy ZGRacing."

Millin's arm wrapped around Bran's shoulders, as he bent down to impart something: "What about exploring the catacombs of this place?" Murmured Millin, waving his specially tailored subversion key in Bran's face.
"Are you serious? Did you see the security here? They'd shoot first, and wouldn't ask questions later." Hissed Bran, shrugging the big idiot off.
"Like you care? You and I have outrun worse than that before. And what's the big deal? A little jaunt through the cargo bays, down into the bowels of the beast? Like they'd care about that in a place this big."
Bran sighed. Millin would argue the point to hell and back to get his way.
"I should just stun you and give you to security. It'd save time and effort." Growled he, as they went for the elevator shafts leading to the docking rings.

Of course, there were several large blast doors leading to corridors marked as "PRIVATE" and "STAFF ONLY" and such scattered throughout the place.

With a garbled chirrup, the subversion device opened the lock and quickly fooled the system into thinking 'all was well'. The device had cost the tall boy several thousand Carth Shillings, or three etched sapphire chits. It was well worth it.

Within minutes they found themselves in the loading bay of one of the immense cargo ships. Seeing as it was locked down, shut tight, and unguarded, meant that the AI system was watching, or they had something more exotic inside.

Bran shivered and pulled the Jacket over his shoulders, pointedly looking an accusation at Millin. The loading bays were exposed to vacuum so much they didn't keep in heat. Everything here was covered in a thin rime of frost.

Millin eased the device onto the console, and waited as nanofibre links buried into the hard shell, subverting the security system with frightening ease, whilst reporting all clear to every active security system it could find.

This was not Kasimian Tech. This was something else.

"We're in." Hissed the taller boy, as the cargo blastdoor cycled back on its heavy treads. Beyond, it was dark, and the two teens knew much better than to turn on the lights - it would simply alert the AI to their presence.

Bran didn't mind. He'd brought the eyepiece especially for this - a light amp and thermal detection unit in a small monocle like lense. He placed it over his eye, and suppressed a shudder as the nanofibres hooked into his flesh around the eye.

But he could see in startling detail now.

"Boxes. Ten foot high, armoured, biohazard symbols, looks like some sort of food. Boring. Hey. Shock absorbent gel packs around this box. Looks like a... Coldsleep unit? No thermals, so they're probably frozen in there."

"See any markings?" Millin whispered back, hand on the shorter boy's shoulder, as the boy guided him through the darkness.

"None. Like they didn't want anyone to know what it was." He shrugged.

"Well, what about weaponry?"

"Those cases over there look promising..." Bran grabbed Millin's hand and pulled him through the unseen maze of boxes.

This was definetly a private area. There were no signs hanging up directing people where to go. No helpful tips in multiple languages. The huge cargo bay was dead silent.

The walkways were wide enough for lifting machinery to get between them, but the boxes themselves were on pallets in groups according to category.

The pair happen upon a group of tall crates with the fronts open. Hanging inside are suits of Xeno battle armor, jet black, non-glossy to prevent light reflection. There are sets for the males, tall and lanky with tail armor and specially designed helmets made to fit the somewhat oblong skull. There also suits to fit the females, which are of course human proportions.

A nearby crate made of hardened plastic is also open, revealing a spongy sort of padding inside cradling rows of M1 battle rifles. Their magazine bays are wide open and empty on the rifles of course.

A sort of white vapor is seen leaking out of the gaps in one crate, and a quiet rumbling sound puncuated by a grumble.

A fleet of Tidani Military Transports and civilian liners emerged through the SeaQuestian gate.

Our home planet has come under attack and we seek refuge here until the bloodshed is over. We will then return there, or Nav forbid, make other arrangements. As we have an embassy here, and this is considered neutral space, we hope we are welcome here until word of our home arrives.

A fleet of Tidani Military Transports and civilian liners emerged through the SeaQuestian gate.

Reply,
"Per our neutrality code, your people are welcome and safe at XSS1 or the planet below. We are transmitting approach vectors now."

The Colony of Star Zero humble requests that we open an embassy at your fine station XSS1. We would also like to open up a storefront for Star Zero Designs.

Request absolutely approved. (Do you have a link for your storefront? I'll add it to the front page.)

Request absolutely approved. (Do you have a link for your storefront? I'll add it to the front page.)

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=465545

Done.

I.S.S. Carlson - Captain's Ready Room

The Draconian Lusolic'a was a Lieutenant Commander when the ship first docked at XSS1. Now, through various people returning to their home nations, people being re-assigned, and people retiring, he was now the bonafied Commanding Officer of the Carlson. While it was an outdated design, it was still his ship. It was also the last Phobos class deep-space frigate still on active duty in the SeaQuestian Navy.

He was lounging on the couch thinking about his career when the comms chimed.

"Captain, a large group of Tidani ships have appeared at the station. According to the info we have gathered, they appear to be civilians and non-combatants fleeing from an assault on the Tidan home system by the Galactic Empire."

"Acknowledged," replied Lusolic'a without getting up, "Let me know when they dock. Then see if you can get their leader in here."

"Aye, sir."

Acknowledged XSS1, I will be boarding the station to make arrangements for purchasing supplies for when we run out.

The fleet made its way into orbit around the planet while one of the non-combatant transports approached the station and docked. Major Ooras made his way through customs and security. His first stop would be the Tidani Embassy to make plans in the event they had no where to return to.

Meanwhile, a destroyer and a frigate patrol team would be diverted to XSS1 for additional security. The Xenos take the saftey of friendly civilians quite seriously.

Onboard XSS1, the refugees would be shown to hotels and other placed to stay.

The SeaQuestian Jump Gate swirled to life and spat out a Poseidon class fleet carrier and a Defender class fast-attack frigate.

Messages

XSS1, this is the I.S.S. Last Stand of SeaQuest. We are escorting the I.S.S. Poseidon which is carrying a care package for a nation known as Star Zero. Requesting directions.

Reply,
Acknowledged, SeaQuest. The Leyte Gulf is due to hyperjump out of the system in a few minutes. Their destination is Zero Point. They will be sending you guidance information. Good luck.

The destroyer Leyte Gulf signaled the I.S.S. Last Stand, sending a secure laser-based communication to them with terminal guidance information for a hyper jump.

When the SeaQuestian ships were ready, the Leyte Gulf would jump with them.

( http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=464883 is his current home planet thread)

Messages

To XSS1:

Understood, XSS1.

To Leyte Gulf:

You may proceded when ready. We'll be following along via Hyperspace.

OOC: Thanks. Already had it open.

And of course, off they went.

And of course, off they went.

OOC: Lol, not much you can say there. Well, off to SZ's thread to continue that plot line.

@Xeno: Mind if I bring in a MA ship to your station? I promise I won't start a firefight between it and the Carlson.

OOC: Lol, not much you can say there. Well, off to SZ's thread to continue that plot line.

@Xeno: Mind if I bring in a MA ship to your station? I promise I won't start a firefight between it and the Carlson.

OOC: Go for it.

IC:

A Xeno battleship emerged from a hyperspace jump. It was studded with dropships, and the markings on this particular battleship had -never- been seen at XSS1 before. Or anywhere, for that matter. It was one of the new batch of warships the Xeno had been working on. It sat in the system for about an hour, and then lept away again.

OOC: Just got to figure out a good way for it to appear in the Milky Way Galaxy.