NationStates Jolt Archive

The view was resplendant. Behind the Chief Executive, the huge wall sported a gold curtain where a huge banner of the Marionetonian Flag, with gold leaf, had been unfurled down the center. In front of the wall, the highest-ranking members of the small but influential government sat at a table in a show of strength and solidarity.

Though his speach even bored him, Chief Executive Bernie Ironwood continued to drone its message. Bernie didn't care much anyway. He seldom completely understood the meaning of every word that his speach writers crafted for him. That was not a problem, however. Bernie trusted them completely, understanding that, for them, failure was not an option. Failure led to unemployment, and, in Marionetonia, there was no one more destitute than the formerly-employed.

"...and, though Space Station Prophet has taken its place as a part of our new space-based defense, it also offers our august nation the opportunity to take part in new missions, far out in space, and to test an improved faster-than-light drive for our new space fleet. Through this, we can expand the boundries of freedom and prosperity, ensuring that the gifts of our way of life are passed on to future generations both here and on other worlds."

A light marked "applause" came on. The croud went wild.

After it was all said and done, Bernie looked over at his Vice Executive, Roger Salt, and asked, a smirk playing across his face, "So, how do ya think we did?"

"Fine," the large, obese old man beside him said, "just fine."

"Good. Then let's get those explorers out as soon as possible. After all, we don't want to have some other culture come along and buy us out, now, do we?"

The Vee, still smirking, looked back. "No, sir, I don't. Never mind that we've been looking for over twenty years and still have yet to find any evidence that we're not alone in these skies."

Finally, his will broken, Bernie joined his big fat friend in a big fat grin. "Well, all that means is that we can put together a little 'venture capital' for anyone or anything who really is out there."

The two men snickered in unison.

(OOC: So, how exactly do you want this played out? Want me to just show up and invite you to join the Republic, or invade you:D ? Or are you gonna make another post with you actually sending the explorers and coming across Republican territory?)

(OOC: So, how exactly do you want this played out? Want me to just show up and invite you to join the Republic, or invade you:D ? Or are you gonna make another post with you actually sending the explorers and coming across Republican territory?)

OOC:

No. The two just blunder into each other. At first, things are tense, but they settle down as each side figures out that the other is not interested in militarily dominating the other. The Marianetonians will have to learn some respect for the military discipline of the Republic, and the Republicans will have to learn some respect for the discipline of a fascist sham democracy.

Six weeks later, the men found the first unexpected dividend of their policy.

An ameteur inventer playing in his basement had stumbled upon a way to use the basic principles of the FTL drive in such a way as to detect their activity. Using it, he had uncovered four classified orbitting satellites. He had been taken into custody and, under rendition, had agreed to join an industry think tank in return for a higher security clearance and a small salary. He was, after all, loyal to the state.

But that was the smallest part of his discoveries. Eventually, he had turned his new "FTL radar" to the stars, and, when he did, he came up with...unregistered activity.

It seemed that Marionetonia was not alone in the galaxy after all.

Unfortunately, the press had gotten ahold of it. Now, the spin would have to be spun and the situation thoroughly plotted out. It was not lost on any of these gentlemen that, if they could detect others in distant space, then these others, who may have had access to the technology for much longer than they, could detect them.

It was time to prepare for a variety of scenarios, not the least of which was a military confrontation on an interplanetary scale. In fact, this could make for a better distraction for the people than the state's War on the Terrorists that their rampant inequality and corruption created. These other-worldly beings would have to be contacted, and arrangements made...

"A fascinating people, run as if it was one big corporation." Admiral Lucan stroked his chin as he reviewed the information collected on the newly discovered planet. He knew Republican policy, and should go ahead and hail them, but they seemed very primitive compared to most of the Republic, and perhaps a test of their abilities would do first. If they discovered the frigate sitting outside their planet and attempted to make contact, then they could be molded into model citizens of the Republic, if they couldn't, well, perhaps the Empire could use some more slaves...

"My GOD," the tech exclaimed, "look at how BIG that thing is!"

"Run all this by me again," the nonplussed voice of the supervisor droned. "You were running the new sensor system looking at anomalies, and--."

"--and that THING just JUMPED OUT at me! It's just SITTING THERE in HIGH ORBIT, lording it over us!"

"And you're sure it's not a natural phenominon because...?"

"Because natural phenomina don't have active FTL drives!"

"OK, so why didn't our orbiting defense stations pick it up?"

"I--I don't know. Maybe we can talk with THEM about it!"

"Hmmmmm. Not my call."

"How's that?"

"Technician, this conversation is now classified. If anyone is to ask you, it did not take place, understood?"

"Yes, sir, but--."

"Good. Now, please give me all the data that you've collected and destroy any record of it having happened. Your shift is now over. In return for your excellent service, the company is giving you the rest of the day off with pay. I will see you in my office tomorrow morning precisely one half hour before the start of your shift. Is this clear?"

"Y--yes."

"Excellent. Where's that data?"

------------------------

"Cloaking technology, you say?" asked the secret policeman.

"No, nothing like that. Whoever they are, they want us to know that they're out there looking at us," replied the technogeek.

"Then why did our detection systems miss that ship the first time?"

"It's so big and in such a distant orbit that we mistook it for an asteroid that orbits in that area."

"I see. How long to construct a ship of similar size and mass?"

Now, another geek answered. "Depends. If you want a sham that they'll be able to see right through if it gets too close, we can have a more-or-less passable mock-up ready in about six weeks. For something that's actually functional, however, we're talking more like ten to eighteen months."

"Why the time lag?"

"The contractors that were building the space yards had no idea that they were going to be needed so soon. Who could have--."

"I understand," the secret policeman said. Somebody's cash cow with kickbacks, he thought to himself. Too bad I didn't get a cut.

"So," he continued, "how to resolve this incident?"

"We could always try talking with them," one geek volunteered.

"Mmmm," the secret policeman said. A liberal. What an idiot. "No. When dealing with an unknown agent, you never negotiate from a condition of weakness. How can we get strong enough, gentlemen?"

"Well," one geek in the back said, "you can always take the accounting approach."

"Hmmmm?" A money man. I like this one already.

"If you can't get together one BIG item, why not try a whole lot of LITTLE items."

The secret policeman chuckled. "I like your reasoning," he said.

------------------------------------

About six weeks later, the computers servicing the new sensor grid went crazy. In low planetary orbit, roughly 500 small to mid-sized ships with FTL drives suddenly came online. At that time, the drives all fired in unison, sending a message, they hoped, to their new and distant neighbor, which was taken from the text of an ancient Marionetonian religious tome.


COME, LET US WALK THE GOLDEN PATH TOGETHER.

"Well, I never expected them to actually be able to get those things off the ground, but look, a small fleet, heading our way. And a message? Wow, what progress. Send a reply, tell them that we would like a meeting, and to send representatives to our vessel."

"Well, at least they're willing to talk with us before they invade," the Military Official said.*

"Perhaps," the Secret Police Chairman said. "Maybe they'll just kidnap our diplomats and try to ransom them off."

"Good point," the politician chimed in. "Best to send some expendables first. Now...who would be good for this job?"

Eight days later, a contingent of four diplomatic nobodies under the auspices of a career do-nothing named Lee Keys found themselves in an alien air lock in space suits, opening a door that none of them knew what they would find on the other side of.

*Under current Marionetonian law (the PUPPET Act), the name of this and other individuals cannot be given.

OOC NOTE: Lee Keys is Liakese, a demon (in fact, one of The Evil One's most trusted propagandists). Liakese is, of course, Ezekial spelled backwards. His human form, like so much else about him, is just an illusion.