NationStates Jolt Archive

Trasnia, S.R. Xanthal--

The innocuous looking transport ship, operating under the auspices of the Joint Naval Commander of the Federation entered Trasnia. Aboard was a special team, appointed by Captain Mbutu himself, made up of top men from the Huntarian Alliance, New Dornalia, and other members of the GFFA especially Major General Verneal himself. Obstensibly under the auspices of a relief job, the men aboard, sworn to secrecy, communicating--rarely--using secured channels and taking unconventional routes to get here, were to commune with the locals. It seemed they had something to offer, and it was no coincidence these men were trained in the best of their class, in terms of technological ability and loyality to the cause.

As they approached, they hailed the authorities, requesting permission to enter. They indicated their presence was part of "Special Relief under the Direction of the Triumvirate."

The system traffic control computer gives the relief ship a standard approach path to YLZ-23, the mega-station that forms the hub of space travel into, out of, and through the system. Trasnia is not the Xanthalian capital, but it is the richest and most liberal of the Xanthalian territories, and the center of habitation in Trasnia, the outer planet Freeland, claims four billion residents, more than all the other Xanthalian vicinages put together. The population stress has long since begun to show, and a Huntarian effort has been underway for several months to terraform the second planet in, called Soviet, so that it might absorb future population growth in the system. It's only the first step in a mind-bogglingly huge undertaking, but it's an essential first step at that.

Because Freeland is so densely populated, Trasnia is always busy. The spacelanes are packed with ships, passenger and cargo liners as well as private and corporate craft. To handle this volume of traffic, Trasnia has many orbital and planetary spaceports, but YLZ-23 is the biggest and busiest. Tens of thousands of ships dock and depart the station every day. The army of people that live, work, and pass through it are too much for any security force to handle; theft is commonplace in the crowds, as is any number of bumping, shoving, and sometimes groping. There are many police, both military and civilian, but their time is fully consumed preventing smuggling and investigating crimes far more serious than a stolen briefcase. For this among many reasons, the mega stations, Trasnia's in particular, have gained a reputation among frequent travellers as highly unpleasant places to be.

As the Alliance transport falls into line, it begins a long, paced journey to the station, where it will be assigned one of the thousands of docking ports just like any other. This ship, though, is special. Aboard are some of the finest engineers the GFFA has to offer. Their mission is no typical relief duty: they have been selected to assess and reverse-engineer technology so secret that the Xanthalian government has gone to great lengths to supress awareness of its very existence.

The ship navigated amongst the busy nature of the place; Trasnia had gained a reputation for being one of the busier spaceports in the universe and this was not lost on the pilots of the expedition. Perhaps it was fitting that such a spaceport was chosen as the rendezvous for the project. After all, there was something to be said about hiding in plain sight.

When it docked, one of the men, a New Dornalian, exited the craft and stood by to await their hosts...

Verneal tapped his foot while he waited for the transport to land. He continued to check the various datapads of this morning's reports. All seemed to be in order. It has been a while since he's been on a ship which wasn't of Huntarian origin. Very long. He felt the ship come to a halt once it hit the ground. He instantly dropped his datapad and followed the New Dornalian who exited the ship.

Finally, something is happening.

In these days, it was a rare sight to see an Abh leave the realms of their Empire unless behind the multiple gun turrets of their war vessels. However, for one Abh in particular, it was his job to always be away from the Empire. To never call anywhere "home". The head of Diplomacy and Intelligence for the Galactic Federation had been to many places and seen strange sights that most landers within the Empire would never believe. With so many different scenes racing through his mind, he couldn't remember the last time his feet ever touched Xanthalian space.

Commander Keirn've was the perfect choice to lead the two man Imperial team to Xanthal given he was one of the first to encounter their people. He had worked side by side with one of their pilots for a brief time and has been instrumental in gathering information for new technologies. That or because he was the only one that volunteered.

Today, the Abh left behind his battle armor and rifle. He even left his noble robes back at the palace. Instead, he wore simple clothes for an Abh and his tiara. It was meant to be a relaxing trip and inconspicuous as possible.

Sitting next to him on the transport was one of the leading technological engineers in the Abh Empire. She had worked extensively with molding cancerous organic matter to ship systems as well as creating organic armor. The organic fleets within Star Forces had grown extensively over a very short time. Such was the advantages to the technology. And she was human. The only inclination that she was from the Empire was the double winged silver tiara on her forehead. Her light tan colored dress with v-neck cut, ruffles at the bottom, and high heeled boots gave her the perfect picture of an average woman from the land in the Empire.

The final lurch of the ship signalled that they had finally come to a stop. Lebia, followed by Keirn've, disembarked from the transport to see who was there to greet them.

The disembarking personnel are greeted by a than, a member of the sentient, human-sized insect species that makes up about a tenth of the total population of Xanthal. The bug's exoskeleton is red in color, indicating its specialization as a builder and developer, likely an engineer. It wears the five-piece dress uniform of a Nahbule officer: a simple brimmed cap with a metal pin displaying the seal of Xanthal, red and tan shirt and pants, a black belt and silver buckle worn over the long shirt, and tall black boots. Pinned on the upper left breast of the shirt is a rank pin identifying its wearer as a senmon, roughly the Xanthalian equivalent of Major.

The than issues a series of chitters, squeals, hisses, and screeches; the thanic species is physiologically incapable of speaking English, or most other humanoid languages for that matter, so they generally stick to their native tongue (though such a statement could be misleading, as than do not have tongues). Fortunately, they carry translators. Their recieving agent has already set its communications device to relay the words in Standard, which it does in short order. "You are all here to provide special relief under the Triumvirate's direction?"

The Federation transport has docked at a private port, meaning those disembarking are spared from the chaos of the station's public areas for now. They are in something resembling an airport waiting room; relatively clean, though obviously worn by extended use. A large observation window spanning most of the outer wall offers a stunning close-up view of the ship's outer hull, as well as a starfield, should one care to look. Nothing about the place is very remarkable, from its rows of chairs bolted to the deck, beige carpet, and grey-blue paint to the bright lights built into the ceiling. There's very little to look at besides their bone-plated receptionist, who itself is far from animated. In fact, if it weren't for the motion of its mandibles as it 'talked,' it might be mistaken for a particularly lifelike sculpture.

The disembarking personnel are greeted by a than, a member of the sentient, human-sized insect species that makes up about a tenth of the total population of Xanthal. The bug's exoskeleton is red in color, indicating its specialization as a builder and developer, likely an engineer. It wears the five-piece dress uniform of a Nahbule officer: a simple brimmed cap with a metal pin displaying the seal of Xanthal, red and tan shirt and pants, a black belt and silver buckle worn over the long shirt, and tall black boots. Pinned on the upper left breast of the shirt is a rank pin identifying its wearer as a senmon, roughly the Xanthalian equivalent of Major.

The than issues a series of chitters, squeals, hisses, and screeches; the thanic species is physiologically incapable of speaking English, or most other humanoid languages for that matter, so they generally stick to their native tongue (though such a statement could be misleading, as than do not have tongues). Fortunately, they carry translators. Their recieving agent has already set its communications device to relay the words in Standard, which it does in short order. "You are all here to provide special relief under the Triumvirate's direction?"

The Federation transport has docked at a private port, meaning those disembarking are spared from the chaos of the station's public areas for now. They are in something resembling an airport waiting room; relatively clean, though obviously worn by extended use. A large observation window spanning most of the outer wall offers a stunning close-up view of the ship's outer hull, as well as a starfield, should one care to look. Nothing about the place is very remarkable, from its rows of chairs bolted to the deck, beige carpet, and grey-blue paint to the bright lights built into the ceiling. There's very little to look at besides their bone-plated receptionist, who itself is far from animated. In fact, if it weren't for the motion of its mandibles as it 'talked,' it might be mistaken for a particularly lifelike sculpture.

The New Dornalian nodded and said "Yes, senmon." Thans were admittedly unusual, and somewhat unsettling for New Dornalians to examine. After all, it wasn't doing much movement, and only a translator conveyed the fact it was really saying anything. Then again, Dornalian English was a much more expressive affair.

He then bowed and said, "I'm Dr. Howard Kimball, Commissariat of Science from New Dornalia. My colleagues and I are here to provide special relief under the direction of the Triumvirate."

Commander Keirn've and Souboney exited the shuttle and stood to the side of Kimball. It had been a while since Keirn've last saw a than. After seeing a few, their impression wares off over time. To him, they all seem to look alike.

The two from the Empire stood waiting to be shown the way. It wasn't a Star Forces station so there was little telling of where anything was. Keirn've just wanted to get down to work and give Xanthal a boost.

OOC: Crappy post but it serves the purpose of bumping.

Verneal stepped forward, saluting the strange welcoming committee, "and I am Major General Verneal of the Huntarain Alliance, formerly the Joint Ground Forces Commander of the GFFA. I am in charge of most of the scientific researching in the Huntarian Alliance as well as my collegue Admiral Craimorn. I'm the third highest ranking official in the Alliance. My scientists and I were sent here to assist the Triumvirate jusst as the New Dornalian," Verneal jabs a finger towards Dr. Howard Kimball, "when do we get started?" Verneal finished off with a gruff voice.

"I am Future's Construct," the than says. "Follow me."

Like most members of its species, Future is emotionally flat and straightforward to the point of being rude. It wouldn't so much as smile at the guests if it could, and because its bone-plated face and compound eyes are static, it can't. Than have a reputation for being highly task-oriented, and this case seems to be no different. The workers are led at a brisk pace through exceedingly crowded halls, terminals, and elevators. Future plows through the throngs of people, most of which are all too happy to get out of its way. Their guide shows no sign of slowing down or assisting his charges even when they fall behind.

After fifteen minutes of struggling to keep up with Future, the than finally leaves the main hallway and stops at a boarding gate, where he works briefly at a computer terminal. Looking through the window, the 'aid workers' can see the Xanthalian military model Calicke docked there. It's a large shuttle, the only window is in the cockpit. The door to the umbilical opens and Future steps inside, opening the hatch to the ship itself. He then presses himself against the wall to allow the foreigners to enter ahead of him.

The first thing one is likely to notice when entering the shuttle is that there is no gravity. Once he recovers from this, the next thing is the layout of the ship. The cabin is seperated from the cockpit by a solid-looking sliding door. As seen from the outside, there are no windows, only a cold metal and plastic interior. There is padding on the tightly-packed chairs, but it is little more than a cloth cover. There is a lavatory at the forward end of the cabin on the right, a storage locker on the left. There are an abundance of handles throughout, so the passenger can maneuver their bodies in the absence of gravity. It's a very spartan setup, certainly not built for comfort.

Once everyone is inside, Future goes back to close the outer door, then enters the shuttle himself and seals the hatch. With a quick series of button pushes, he opens the door to the cockpit and pulls himself inside. Without a word, he closes the door behind him, leaving the passengers alone in the cabin. About a minute later, they can hear and feel the ship come to life as its engines start and systems come online. An intercom activates, and the synthesized voice of thier thanic guide's translator addresses the engineers. "We are departing in three minutes. Select a seat and fasten the restraints. If you require something of me during the trip, use the intercom to contact me."

It just seemed to be one shuttle ride after another to Kiern've and all these calickes seemed alike. The interior didn't seem all that different from Star Force calickes but he remembered the difference in the space time bubble generators that these two nations possesed.

The Abh officer and Souboney took two seats to the left and made themselves as comfortable as possible. For an Abh, it was odd riding in a vessel without any froch ports to tuned into what is happening with the ship and around it but such were the differences. Now, there was nothing but to enjoy the ride down and hope to find their area of operations soon.



I am the means for all that is bumpage-

OOC: Only Abh, huh? Okay, but if at least two of you aren't active, I reserve the right to cancel this thread. In the meantime, moving right along...

IC: The shuttle ride is uneventful, and over within the hour, though it seems longer due to the lack of anything to do. It's hard to even have a conversation over the noise of the engine. Since there are no windows in the passenger compartment and the cockpit door is sealed it's impossible for the foreigners to know what's going on, but it's not hard to tell that they've landed, since they can feel gravity. Almost immediately after the dull thud of contact passes through the ship, the engines shut off. A minute later, the door opens and their escort steps out, now able to walk on the deck. After a brief visual check to see that the people he is escorting are alright, he walks to the back of the ship and opens the hatch, which extends and lowers to the ground as a ramp. "Follow me," he instructs everyone, then steps out.

The group exits the shuttle to find themselves in a large hangar which contains several other small craft in addition to their own, all with military colors and identification numbers. The room is lit from the ceiling, walls, and floor; on the ceiling is a giant blast door through which the shuttle entered, but it is now closed. Future leads them across the bay to a heavy set of sliding doors, which it opens by placing its hand on a panel beside them. With the door open, it ushers its guests into the room beyond.

The door opened, Dr. Kimball stepped into the room. The shuttle rides and the long walk through the warrens was necessary, but somewhat tiring. Looking around for a bit, he then asked, "Umm...forgive me for stating the obvious, but where are we?"

Verneal squinted his eyes as he walked into the hangar bay, "a military hangar bay. Though I'm sure that's besides the point," he replied with a sarcastic tone of voice. "I'm guessing they're leading us to the room where we'll begin the descussion of the Trade. I hope I'm not the only person who doesn't have to use the Force to see that that's going to be the room we're about to enter..."

"There is no conference," the than says. "This is..."

"This is the Xanthalian Special Weapons Development Facility," a new voice finishes for him. In the corner of the room, a semi-transparent hologram of a young girl appears. She is monochromatic, only red light is used to create her. She looks human, about seven years old. Her hair hangs down below her shoulders, straight with a slight wave. Her voice matches her apparent age, but her demeanor and tone are mature, commanding, and decidedly unfriendly.

She crosses her arms as she looks over the new arrivals. "I am the electronic intelligence charged with maintaining order and security in the facility. You will call me 'Queen.' You may have noticed that the door you came through has been left open. If you have a problem with anything I say here, you may return to the docking bay and await the next departing transport."

The Red Queen folds her hands behind her back, preparing to give a speech she has given many times to many others that have passed through this same room. In the past, it has always been in Mirfakan. Today, it is in English. "This is a top-secret research and development facility operating under the authority of the Xanthalian Triumvirate. You have been authorized to access and work with technology contained aboard a ship that is stored here; nothing else that occurs here concerns you; you will not have access to extraneous information, you will not ask unnecessary questions, you will not give information about your work here to anyone else unless they require it for their own work. While you are working here, I will constantly monitor your activities. As you work, you will inform me of what you are doing. You will answer my questions immediately and completely. You will follow my orders in good faith. Any deviation from established protocols will be dealt with quickly and decisively in whatever manner I deem appropriate. I am the only law you need concern yourself with here. Everything you witness and do while at this facility you will consider classified information, to be released only on a need-to-know basis to only authorized personnel designated by the Xanthalian Triumvirate, regardless of any orders you may receive from your superiors. Are there any questions?”

Taken aback by the Red Queen's candor, Kimball could only weakly muster a "What important item exactly is on the vessel you're talking about?" This was indeed serious business...

Pretty demanding for a seven year-old. Keirn've stood there with his arms crossed as he apraised the holographic image. Not bad but holograms could go further he knew.

Souboney on the other hand was more interested in the technology that she would be working with. The rules didn't matter much, what she could learn from this was what was important to her as she waited for an answer.

"You will be provided with further information when you arrive at the job site."

Apparently satisfied that nobody is going to chicken out on her, the Queen closes the door behind them. "You will now prepare for cleansing," the AI informs the newcomers. Familiar with what comes next, the than that accompanied them here begins undressing. Two drawers, each large enough to hold two people, slide out from a side wall. "Remove all articles of clothing and place them in the left recepticle. Place all other items in the right recepticle. When you have finished, stand towards the middle of the room. Do not touch anyone else."

The sole woman of this expedition stood there in utter disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me..."

For an Abh, something of this nature was not a big deal as they viewed the body differently than most humans. Still, Keirn've found it somewhat amusing for Souboney. "Come now, this won't take long. I promise I won't look."

Souboney shot the Abh officer an icy glare. "Just shut up."

Both officers begin removing their articles of clothing and placing them in their respective bins. Their tiaras and clyunos were then placed and the other one. Souboney tried covering herself as modestly as possibly without appearing awkward or obvious. Smiling, Keirn've turned his back so he could say that he wasn't watching.

"You will be provided with further information when you arrive at the job site."

Apparently satisfied that nobody is going to chicken out on her, the Queen closes the door behind them. "You will now prepare for cleansing," the AI informs the newcomers. Familiar with what comes next, the than that accompanied them here begins undressing. Two drawers, each large enough to hold two people, slide out from a side wall. "Remove all articles of clothing and place them in the left recepticle. Place all other items in the right recepticle. When you have finished, stand towards the middle of the room. Do not touch anyone else."

The good Doctor proceeded to comply, as did the rest of the Dornalians. Being a man, it was awkward for the Doctor to strip down to his skivvies; he had not done this since his last swim, and that was in a bathroom with nobody else in it. But the way things were going, he didn't want any trouble. After placing his articles in the right bin and the clothes in the left, he then got into a huddling position, covering his privates, a slight chill coming over him. He then shouted at the others, "Don't you dare look!"

The other Dornalians groaned. They weren't as shy as he was, just a little creeped out as they tried to not look at one another....

The Queen, or rather, the hologram she uses as her avatar, watches the workers' embarassment with a disdainful smirk laced with a sense of personal satisfaction. She was not programmed with social grace; in fact, her 'personality' is antisocial. Her function is to keep the facility running smoothly and securely, but people are clumsy, dirty, scheming creatures that the AI only tolerates because they are necessary to maintain operations.

The exercise of making them undress serves two purposes. The first is security: the clothes will be stored until the guests leave, their equipment screened and sterilized before it is delivered to the work area. The second is that it provides an early opportunity for the Queen to assert her near-absolute authority on the people who come to work here; and get a first impression of who is likely to resist it. Though not fully sentient, the AI does have the capacity to simulate emotion, which it does freely. Besides being decidedly antisocial, if the Queen were human, it would have all the symptoms of megalomania, obsession, and paranoia. This is no mistake, it's how 'she' was programmed, the ultimate guardian of Xanthal's most secret and secure military facility.

To use up some spare processing power, the AI mainframe runs a diagnostic of the laser turrets, atmospheric controls, showers and drains in the outer chamber. All are fully functional. Even here, outside the actual facility, the visitors' lives are in her hands. This knowledge brings the Queen a sense of satisfaction an AI can only get from knowing it is successfully performing its functions. After the last of the group's clothes and equipment has come off, the Queen shuts the recepticles into which the group placed them. From the ceiling pop out several dozen shower heads, which immediately begin spraying fluid on everyone present. Not having bothered to warn them beforehand, the Queen explains. "You are now being rinsed with a water and disinfectant solution. Allow the fluid to come in contact with all parts of your body. Do not make physical contact with anyone else."

"God, this bitch is creepin' me out," thought the Doctor as he and his staff let the detox formula overtake him, per the Queen's orders. He had had enough of that stuff from the HoloNet, and he didn't need it now. Especially the nasty and quite stinging surprises, and the sour attitude.

"I see she has a tendancy to state the obvious." Keirn've hardly mind the shower though. The Abh had been through enough oddities in his life and this one hardly measured up. Though he did have the slight urge to reach out and barely touch someone just to see a reaction from the machine.

Once the Queen feels that everyone has been sufficiently drenched, the shower heads shut off and retract into the ceiling. The wall ahead of them opens up to reveal a recessed area about four feet wide and just a few feet deep. The than that has been accompanying the group since they left the transport that took them to Trasnia takes the lead, stepping into the space. The wall then closes behind it. Since Future's Construct is a veteran of this procedure, the AI does not bother to instruct it. The than remains still as a beam scans its body, then bends its arm to allow a needle to poke into the soft flesh covering the joint under its tough exoskeleton, drawing a small amount of blood. Finally, with a strong breath into a tube that extends to cover its mandibles, the wall ahead of it opens and the than proceeds into the next room. The door seals behind him and the room is sterilized with a surge of air and disinfecting fluid as behind the walls the samples are sent to a testing chamber and the needle replaced. Less than a minute after the than went in, the door to the room where the others were left opens again.

After everyone has gone through the same ordeal and come out on the other side, they are made to dress in grey suits reminiscent of those worn by biohazard teams; complete with a sealed mask that will filter the air they inhale and exhale. Finally, they are cleared to enter the actual facility, and begin a long journey through a series of halls. There are no computer terminals or holographic projectors here, so they no longer have the company of the Red Queen hologram. The lack of an avatar is deceptive: cameras and other sensors monitor their every action, and as if to remind them that they have no freedom in the Queen's domain, they are frequently made to wait at doors that impede their progress so that they do not come in contact with any other personnel. Their thanic guide takes all this in stride and guides them stoically through the complex network of corridors and elevators without a word of guidance from the AI.

All the good Doctor could do was comply, and wait out the endless battery of security checks and unnerving attitude from his handlers in stoic silence....

Keirn've and Souboney kept up with the rest of the group and maintained the stop and go pace through the corridors and various doors.

It's a tedious journey, but ten minutes after leaving the processing chambers they arrive at their destination. A final set of doors open in response to their escort's security code, and the engineers see their prize.

The hull design is obviously lifted from the United Federation of Planets' Starfleet; it's almost identical to an Intrepid-class starship. From the platform on which they now stand, the GFFA team has a panoramic view of the ship's starboard side. Though it has not seen action for four hundred years, it has been well-preserved. Although twenty meters away, they can still easily make out the lines of bold lettering on the nearest airlock: "XAS-583 / Unauthorized Entry Is Prohibited."

The room is well-sized for its contents, measuring four hundred meters long and half as wide. The bay is eighty meters high, but there is still barely a meter's clearance between the ship's highest point and the ceiling. The newcomers' current position is about sixty meters in the air, on a balcony level with the widest deck near the middle of the saucer section of the vessel. Far below them on the floor they can see small vehicles and pieces of equipment, but no people. Ahead of them, the spacecraft extends an umbilical from its hull across the span seperating them from the airlock. It comes to rest level with the balcony, and the than opens a gate in the railing, proceeding towards the ship's access point.

As they walk across the enclosed bridge towards the spacecraft, Future's Construct speaks to its charges for the first time since they entered the facility. "I am the senior Old Xanthalian technology specialist at this facility. I will assist you with your work." As the last of the group herds into the airlock, the outer door closes and they are left in the small space as the ship scans them. "I can now address any questions you have about this assignment."

The Doctor followed the than and looked around, bewildered by what he saw. His engineers understood the ship they were viewing as well and were indeed somewhat surprised. Expecting to find a trump card, he instead recognized a design both from the old TV tapes and the James' HoloNet Ship Registry. Crossing his arms and thinking, "Not bad, but I was expecting a little more," he was slightly dissapointed yet he kept his opinion silent for now. Still, if this was what he thought it was, then Xanthal had indeed gone down in tech levels and he prayed New Dornalia would not end up the same.

He raised his hand and said, blurting out his surprise almost, "Sir, is this....an Intrepid class vessel?! Do you have anything....more powerful from Old Xanthal?"

"The vessel type is futeki, which can be translated to 'intrepid.' It is equipped with Old Xanthalian technologies that are in many cases far superior to those employed by standard Intrepid-class ships." The inner airlock opens and they step inside, heading down the hallway as the than continues. "The futeki type was designed for independent quick-strike missions against enemy starships and limited general use. In terms of combat power it is inferior to other warships in the Old Xanthalian fleet, but it is superior to every ship in Labule service today except the Alphashra." The bug concludes as they enter a lift by ordering it to "Deck eleven."

Following his host, the Doctor and his team were relieved and even interested. Perhaps the Old Xanthalian interpretation of the Intrepid would prove to be a superb asskicker in time. After all, Future's Construct had mentioned something about how the tech here was much more powerful than on most standard Intrepids. Perhaps he spoke too soon.

Keirn've and Souboney both kept their stoic appearances. Both of them knew that it took more than a pretty design to make a ship worthy of military roles. They would wait to see what technologies were inside the ship before they passed any judgement on the old vessel.

For now they let the than call it what he will though Keirn've did remember the Alphashra. He wondered what resembled that of the old Abh Empire and if there were any influences present in the ship. Perhaps an ancestor of their own technology.

The team proceeds until they reach the engine room. It's in good condition and mostly intact, though certain consoles and panels have been opened and things removed in the course of the Xanthalians' study of it. The main point of interest is a long tube that looks something like a warp core, running horizontally fore and aft along the upper level. It is dark and quiet; apparently not functioning. Their guide stops in the center of the room near a floodlight and some equipment that has been left by one of the facility's technicians. "The tools you brought should be here shortly. There are a number of systems the Triumvirate has made available for your study. Will you work together or seperately?"

OOC: No excuses; I apologize for the long wait.

Souboney walked up to the long shaft and ran her fingers over it. An interesting design but alien to anything created within the Abh Empire. The woman had a look of deep concentration on her face as her eyes continued to scan the machine.

"Working together I believe would be far more practical allowing all of us to pool our thoughts and work off each other's suggestions. Are there any records from your people's findings available to study?"

The systems themselves are relatively foreign to the Dornalians. They can tell the center column is a type of reactor, but the other devices remain a mystery. The Doctor looks at the instruments and like Souboney takes a closer look at the "reactor." His men do the same, writing their observations on datapads.

The Doctor goes, somewhat absentmindedly, "Sure. We can work together and pool our knowledge." It's clear though, he's focused on the machines....mumbling something about, "Reactor...this has to be a reactor..."

"It's a quantum slipstream drive," a disembodied female voice announces. This isn't the Queen, though; it sounds different, older, more congenial. It is obviously being broadcast from somewhere, but there's nothing mechanical about it, no interference or distortion. It is directionless, seeming to come from the air itself. "I am XAS-583's electronic intelligence. Welcome aboard."

"The ship and I will help you do your work," the than explains.

In a swirl of light that lasts no more than a second, the tools the group had left behind in the screening room appear on an inactive console. "You can have your equipment back now. It's all been cleared with YFYD security and my own scanners. What would you like to look at first? My phasers and torpedoes aren't very remarkable these days, but you might find my armor or shields of interest. I also have matter/energy converters, teleportation devices, holographic technology, cognitive control interface; take your pick. If you can make sense of how it works, I'm sure you'll find something useful."

In a swirl of light that lasts no more than a second, the tools the group had left behind in the screening room appear on an inactive console. "You can have your equipment back now. It's all been cleared with YFYD security and my own scanners. What would you like to look at first? My phasers and torpedoes aren't very remarkable these days, but you might find my armor or shields of interest. I also have matter/energy converters, teleportation devices, holographic technology, cognitive control interface; take your pick. If you can make sense of how it works, I'm sure you'll find something useful."

While his crew was busy taking their tools back, the Doctor's eye rose at the phrase "cognitive control interface." He then asked, "Wait...cognitive control interfaces? You mean like a mind machine interface?"

"Your terminology is crude, but yes," the ship's computer replies. "The interface monitors the brain of the user and relays commands to ship systems based upon her conscious mind's directives. It's similar to the method by which an Abh commander monitors his ship's status, but it operates both as an input and output device in relation to the user. The units installed in me are capable of interfacing with human, than, or xanthalian brains. They could theoretically operate with different humanoids, but would require extensive reprogramming and possibly redesign to do so."

"Your terminology is crude, but yes," the ship's computer replies. "The interface monitors the brain of the user and relays commands to ship systems based upon her conscious mind's directives. It's similar to the method by which an Abh commander monitors his ship's status, but it operates both as an input and output device in relation to the user. The units installed in me are capable of interfacing with human, than, or xanthalian brains. They could theoretically operate with different humanoids, but would require extensive reprogramming and possibly redesign to do so."

The Doctor was fascinated by the device. Indeed, its potential for faster efficiency and ease of control was unparalleled--if the risks were somewhat apparent. After all, this was a device that directly entered your mind. He then said, "May I see an example of such a device?"

Souboney had let her mind wonder to the armor of the ship while the questions raged around her. Ship armor was where she particularly dominated the field but she was also well versed on all manner of Star Forces technology.

Keirn've was actually the one to speak up in the conversation. "If you have ever seen an Abh officer aboard a space vessel, then you have seen something similar first hand."

The Abh pulled on two diamond like objects from the back of his tiara and stretched the links to their fullest extent. "These two diamonds allow us Abh to interface with our ships which gives us a great sense of space around the vessel. Our froch is an extrasensory organ that goes beyond the immediate space around us when connected to a vessel. We can in a sense feel everything the ship feels along with know information outside of the vessel before scanners pick them up. It is one of the edges we Abh posses over humans and other races when it cames to space flight or warfare."

"Of course," the computer replies. "Fąbrel Dąιąl, would you please escort my guests to the command center?"

"This way," the than says, leading the group back towards the elevator.

"Does anyone in the group intend to use the interface?" the ship asks.

"Of course," the computer replies. "Fąbrel Dąιąl, would you please escort my guests to the command center?"

"This way," the than says, leading the group back towards the elevator.

"Does anyone in the group intend to use the interface?" the ship asks.

"I intend to," says the Doctor, who follows the than to the command center. He enunciates the point by saying, "As part of my studies, I am to truly understand how it works. And that means using and experiencing the interface for the first time."

"I will prepare the interface for you," the computer advises him.

The lift takes them up to the top deck, where they are let out into the command center. It's obvious that the design derives from the internationally-known Intrepid-class starship, but the differences are also evident. The controls at each station are configured differently, and several of the seats have what vaguely resemble salon hairdryers attached to them, which can be lowered over the head of each chair's occupant.

"Please sit in either of the seats in the center of the bridge and lower the helmet when you are prepared to initiate the interface. If you have any questions about what to expect, you may ask them now."

"Please sit in either of the seats in the center of the bridge and lower the helmet when you are prepared to initiate the interface. If you have any questions about what to expect, you may ask them now."

Kimball sat in one of the seats, and then got himself comfortable. He then spoke to the computer, saying, "What's the safety record on this equipment, anyway?"

"I do not have complete incident records stored in my memory. I can tell you that I am equipped with sixth generation Armada neural interface equipment. This type of equipment met or exceeded all military standards for user safety in place at the time my active service was terminated. There have been no instances of the neural interface causing serious brain damage in my own service history."

"I do not have complete incident records stored in my memory. I can tell you that I am equipped with sixth generation Armada neural interface equipment. This type of equipment met or exceeded all military standards for user safety in place at the time my active service was terminated. There have been no instances of the neural interface causing serious brain damage in my own service history."

Kimball nodded, acknowledging the message coming in. He was somewhat reassured going into this thing. After all, it had been used on other humans. But still, he was understandably a little nervous.

He then thanked the computer, and then pulled the helmet over his head to begin the procedure.

"Without a full crew present the interface is of limited practical use," the computer says, "but if you would like to test its full function I can begin a simulation that will mimic a full crew responding to your commands. Just lift the guard on the switch at the back of your right arm rest, flip the switch, and close the guard, then we will begin."

"Without a full crew present the interface is of limited practical use," the computer says, "but if you would like to test its full function I can begin a simulation that will mimic a full crew responding to your commands. Just lift the guard on the switch at the back of your right arm rest, flip the switch, and close the guard, then we will begin."

Kimball did as instructed. It took a bit, as the helmet was down, but he was able to flip the switches in the right combination and get the procedure started.

"I am engaging the interface now," the computer announces.

-----

Suddenly, the Doctor is blind and deaf. It only lasts for a moment, but the disturbing experience is a normal side effect of the interface, which in training mode hijacks the parts of the brain that normally process information recieved from the eyes and ears. It takes only a few seconds, and when his missing senses return, he finds himself on a fully-staffed bridge; a thanic officer sitting in the chair ahead of him, a human to his left. All are garbed in uniforms of the old Xanthalian Armada, which bear a striking resemblance to those used in Star Trek. In the modern day, much of Xanthalian art and fashion is flagrantly stolen from other countries. Apparently, Old Xanthal had a similar lack of creativity.

The main screen is active, and displays a simulated three-dimensional grid showing the position of twelve red icons, with a single blue icon in the center. Kimball doesn't have to guess that the blue icon is his ship and the red ones represent enemy vessels, but more than that, in his mind he knows each of them: their type and capabilities, vector, which are damaged and how. In addition, he has detailed information about his own ship, from the names and faces of the crew to the maximum power output of its phasers. It is a knowledge so intimate and natural that it takes a moment for him to realize how unnatural it is, that in fact he should not know these things at all. Around him the crew sits idle, the steady hum of the ship's engines and chirping of control panels breaking the quiet.

"This is tactical scenario 97," the computer tells him. "The enemy vessels are substantially inferior to yours. As my commander, you will use my advanced power and function to defeat the enemy."

The homely human woman sitting on his left turns to look at him, expectantly awaiting his orders. "I will guide you through the scenario," the computer reassures him. "You may begin by ordering your ship to red alert."

-----

The rest of the team, not part of the simulation, sees and hears none of this. While he's kept busy with the interface, the computer moves things along in the real world. "Doctor Kimball will likely be engaged in the simulation for some time. You can take scans of the pilot's neural interface at the front of the bridge or reference the device specifications at the forward right station. Alternatively, you can access information about any of my other systems from the station at the back of the room on the left side. I have set all the consoles to display in English. Other languages are available if you prefer."

"If I could, I would like to see information about your armor. Program your console for Baronh if it is on file. If not, then english is fine."

Souboney walked over to the console and waited for the information to be displayed.

"This is tactical scenario 97," the computer tells him. "The enemy vessels are substantially inferior to yours. As my commander, you will use my advanced power and function to defeat the enemy."

The homely human woman sitting on his left turns to look at him, expectantly awaiting his orders. "I will guide you through the scenario," the computer reassures him. "You may begin by ordering your ship to red alert."

Kimball took in his surroundings--and the feelings he had gotten long his long, strange, and definetly somewhat disorienting journey to this point. Stopping for a moment to breathe, he took in the uniforms, which made the place look like a Star Trek convention indeed. He took in the info being fed into his head, which was unusual, yes. Was he was priveleged to know these things?--then again, for now he was. He then looked up, and hearing the computer, he then said to the woman next to him--or it seemed like she was next to him--who was waiting for orders, "Take us to red alert."



The rest of the team, not part of the simulation, sees and hears none of this. While he's kept busy with the interface, the computer moves things along in the real world...

The other members of the team began observing the Doctor as he tried out the equipment. Moving to the front and the forward right stations, the team split into two groups in order to check up on the Doctor's progress, and to get a further feel for the device. Along the way, they noticed Kimball giving orders to what seemed to be nonexistent shades. Shrugging, they knew it was the interface, but it was still odd to look at.

The overhead lights turn red and a sharp alarm sounds five times before falling silent. "Red alert, all hands to combat stations," the first officer calls out.

"Good. In a normal situation, the commander would give orders to the crew to initiate operations such as firing weapons and executing maneuvers while you focused on tactics, but because we have limited time and you want to experience the full capabilities of the interface, I will place systems under your control as you need to use them. We'll keep the crew around; if you start to feel overwhelmed, you can delegate specific tasks to them. Now, target weapons on the closest ship and destroy it."

-----

Information about the hull composition appears on the operations station screen, detailed in Souboney's native language. After five hundred years most languages change substantially, but thanks to the rigidity of Baronh, the form and vocabulary of which is preserved almost obsessively by the Abh, the specifications read like they were written just yesterday, despite the centuries-old translation matrix.

The ship's outer armor is a metal made of complex molecules similar to duritanium alloy, but it also has regenerative properties. The inner hull is tritanium. Sandwiched between these layers is a silk polymer, highly flexible and strong. It's impressive, stronger than many ships with much thicker, rigid armor.


The Dornalians, meanwhile, begin the complicated process of understanding a sixth-generation piece of what was complex technology to begin with. The basic principle of the neural interface is simple enough: the headpiece is lined with extremely sensitive electrical scanners that monitor brain activity. The interface interprets the readings those scanners collect and relays the user's intentions to the main computer, which determines what systems must be used to carry out the desired action and relays the appropriate commands to control circuits throughout the ship. Simultaneously, the main computer processes information about the ship and readings from external sensors and transmits data to the interface, which then 'translates' the information into chemical codes and electrical impulses that the brain can interpret. These are transferred to the brain itself by some type of microprojectors they've never seen before, which actually 'beam' them inside the skull with subatomic precision to create memories in and manipulate the senses of the user.

The 'reading' part of the interface is quite innocent, but the 'writing' is a highly invasive process that relies completely on the accuracy of the programming and the precise calibration of the microprojectors to prevent serious malfunction and possible damage to the brain or body. It's obvious that trying to build such a thing, even with blueprints in hand, could take years. Some of the technologies used in the design don't even have modern equivalents. Examining the device directly or through the computer's specifications are equally intimidating.

Seeing this and knowing it was built five centuries ago it is easy to appreciate the enormity of Xanthal's accomplishments, and perhaps gives the viewer insight into the Xanthalian spirit for having lost such great achievements to anarchy and war, anarchy and war brought about in no small part because of the Abh.

The woman was happy to see the information come up in Baronh. It would make her work easier and faster since she wouldn't have to worry about mental translations. Looking at the specifications, she took note of the different layers of armor. The inner layer was not terribly impressive being titanium though it was a solid interior nonetheless.

Souboney brought up the outer layer and focused in on that. The details on the armor itself were more up her specifications as one of great qualities of the Shadow armor that she helped reverse engineer was that it was regenerative though that was largely impart due to it being organic. Organic armor could grow from itself but regenerative metallic armor would typically require a material source and then a catalyst for the conversions. She already had a few theories about its possibilities but the armor would need a more indepth anaylsis unless the computer held the key to her questions.

"Computer, do your systems use nanotechnology say for internal repairs or even repairs to your exterior?"

The Dornalians are not so overjoyed. Despite being overawed at the majesty of the technology they are being faced with, the hurdles presented are quite massive. The New Dornalians have ways of replicating the parts needed to create the neural interface, though some of the more advanced components will have to be researched and manufactured specially--not a hard feat, considering the system of labs set up by MacIntyre. But, the big problem lies in making the machine play out in practice. In particular, the complexity of the neural interface will be a herculean feat to overcome, and the potential health risks are great if not done correctly.

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

As for the Doctor, he takes command of the ships weapons. It's an amazing feeling for him, for with a single will of his mind he immediately brings the weapons online. The feeling only continues when he targets the nearest enemy vessel, just by looking and thinking at it. And it finally climaxes in sheer amazement and yet intense focus when he uses the weapons and shoots the ship. All with his mind, all without giving a single order. Somewhat exhausted and overwhelmed by the experience, he flops back in the chair, trying to take it all in.....

"Well done, but you're trying too hard," the computer advises Kimball. "The interface is very sensitive; there is no need to put so much effort into it. Don't try to think about which systems are needed to accomplish the task, just think about the task itself. Relax your mind. Picture what you want. Know that your ship will do it. Remember, it's my job to translate your wishes into action."

If it could, the computer would smile. When it was in service as a training vessel, XAS-583 bore witness to experienced officers giving similar advice to many a nervous cadet. Alas, like all emotion, the feeling of nostalgia is lost on the AI. "Now," it instructs, "target the enemy ship with the strongest shields. Move into range and destroy it."

-----

"Yes, though the process is too slow to be of much use in combat," the computer replies to the Abh's query. "When I was in active service, I primarily used my nanobots for internal security. They can destroy biohazards that might escape the regular screening process, incapacitate intruders, and monitor the ship when my regular internal sensors are inoperative."

The response disappointed Souboney somewhat but it was a shot in the dark afterall. Still, the computer was right. Nanotechnology would be too slow in repairing the outter hull of a ship during combat. It would be easier to simply repair it once the battle was finished as a typical engagement did not last long enough for a slow regenerative armor to be of any use.

Souboney stood there looking at the readings for a time. The molecular makeup could be replicated to create a similar type of alloy but it was the regenerative aspect that it was setting the ship apart.

"Computer. Can you provide a more detailed molecular make-up of your outter hull only?"

If it could, the computer would smile. When it was in service as a training vessel, XAS-583 bore witness to experienced officers giving similar advice to many a nervous cadet. Alas, like all emotion, the feeling of nostalgia is lost on the AI. "Now," it instructs, "target the enemy ship with the strongest shields. Move into range and destroy it."


He then mumbled back at the computer, "Thanks." Kimball then got to work, willing the ship to target the strongest shielded vessel, move into range and attack. This time, he did not specificially ramble through each step like he did before. He merely repeated the order, thinking it into the interface to get the job done....

The result is quite impressive. The ship moves forward on the same path Kimball imagined, fires his weapons in just the way he envisioned them firing. The enemy vessel disappears from the screen. "That's still not quite right, but much better," the computer tells him. "Now try using the ship's weapons to disable an enemy ship without destroying it. This is very difficult to do; you must target the enemy precisely to hit systems such as engines, weapons, and shield generators without compromising its overall hull integrity or hitting anything that could explode and destroy the vessel. Detailed information is available on the layout of the enemy ships you are currently fighting. Use that information to choose your mode of attack."

-----

How odd to be handing out such military secrets to outsiders. If security protocols were in effect, the computer could have rendered the intruders unconscious just for trying to access this kind of information. As it is, "Of course," is the only response as the information Souboney requested is displayed on the screen.

Duritanium is an extremely strong metal. This close relative of duritanium is denser, but stronger and more flexible. Its molecular structure has nothing to indicate it can regenerate on its own, however. There's likely another factor at work.

While interesting and fascinating to the woman, Souboney was still looking for the answers to the regenantive armor. She knew that with the proper molecular make-up, they could reproduce the armor at leisure. The resources at Vobayrunay were capable of producing a Star Forces war vessel once every ten minutes. Xanthalians rebuilding armor would not be a problem as long as they had good directions.

"Very interesting. The molecular make-up shows no indication of regenerative properties. So if nanotechnology was not at work and the armor itself cannot regenerate, then there must be another system at work. Computer. Do you utilize replicator systems for anything other than food production?"

Detailed information is available on the layout of the enemy ships you are currently fighting. Use that information to choose your mode of attack."

Kimball mentally thumbs through the massive catalog of data at his disposal. Focusing on the intelligence on the enemy vessels, he formulates a plan to take out the shields and then the weapons and engines in order to disable the enemy ship, deftly aiming to avoid hitting anything that could potentially explode and zeroing in on the right spots to perform maximum effect for minimum damage to the vessel. He then thinks his instructions through, and then sends them to the computer, imagining exactly where to hit, and imagining hitting them with some strength, though not too much though.

"Very good for a first attempt," the computer encourages him like a friendly instructor might encourage a struggling cadet. "Now teleport the enemy crew to the brig. I'm lowering the control threshold; just know what you want me to do now, within the scope of my abilities, and the ship will act on your wishes. The lower the control threshold, the more efficient the interface; but a low threshold can be dangerous because if the commander's mind wanders from what he actually intends his ship to do, he can unconsciously send false orders to the computer. There is no real danger in a simulation, but you should maintain focus anyway. You should know quickly if you make a mistake."

-----

"Yes," the computer displays the replicator system specifications for good measure. "My replicators can be used to create any stable molecule and assemble those molecules into virtually any object, though its capabilities are limited by physical size and available computer power."

"Very good for a first attempt," the computer encourages him like a friendly instructor might encourage a struggling cadet. "Now teleport the enemy crew to the brig. . ."

Keeping himself focused on task, Kimball imagines the crew being beamed up into the brig. He tries to imagine only this, nothing more--the thought of failure or what will happen if he makes a stray thought doesn't even get a chance to be recognized.

"Yes," the computer displays the replicator system specifications for good measure. "My replicators can be used to create any stable molecule and assemble those molecules into virtually any object, though its capabilities are limited by physical size and available computer power."

Replication technology was a well-known trinket but there was the possibility that it went beyond the common uses of today. "Is it possible to use your replicators for repairs on the outter hull?"

"Notice the two vessels to starboard are in close formation. Use a force beam to make them collide. You should be noticing an energy fluctuation in the primary forward shield generator. Switch to secondary circuits."

-----

"Not directly," the computer informs Souboney. "They can replicate a hull plate, however, which can be teleported into place and affixed by my nanobots. That procedure is not recommended while the ship is accelerating."

"Notice the two vessels to starboard are in close formation. Use a force beam to make them collide. You should be noticing an energy fluctuation in the primary forward shield generator. Switch to secondary circuits."


Kimball did so, focusing on his goal to make the vessels to starboard collide using a tractor beam. He then switched to secondary circuits in reply to the second part of the order.

An interesting procedure but Soubonay was not completely sold on the idea. The makeup of the hull was reading like the armor could heal itself like an organic structure but this was metallic by nature. The regenerative properties didn't seem to be natural though as it was not in is molecular code.

"You're giving me a hard time here computer. Your armor has regenerative properties but it's not natural nor do your replicators seem to be the answer."

"Good," the computer affirms as the two ships are destroyed by the collision. "You can also manipulate other vessels or objects or maneuver your own ship by generating artificial gravity fields. A trained officer can use that capability in a variety of ways to great effect. Take a few minutes to familiarize yourself with the system by using it to avoid enemy attacks."

-----

"My nanobots can conduct repairs to the hull. It is possible to deploy genetically-engineered microscopic lifeforms on the outer hull to repair minor damage, but there is very little to recommend them over nanobots. Although my armor is quite strong, it is only a physical barrier. My primary defensive system is my energy shielding."

It wasn't the break through she was hoping for but with the computer's own words, Souboney decided to consider this a small victory in solving the case of the outter layer of armor.

"Alright then. Let's see your shield system."

"Good," the computer affirms as the two ships are destroyed by the collision. "You can also manipulate other vessels or objects or maneuver your own ship by generating artificial gravity fields. A trained officer can use that capability in a variety of ways to great effect. Take a few minutes to familiarize yourself with the system by using it to avoid enemy attacks."

Kimball then uses the mental interface again. This time, he uses the artificial gravity fields to bank the ship to the left and right to avoid enemy fire. Then, he orders the use of the artificial fields to perform a classic Dornalian maneuver, using them to redirect enemy torpedoes against one another before performing another banking manuever upwards and pushing away another vessel and its fire with the fields. All the while, he could feel the ship replying to his movements, and by now Kimball was comfortable with the vast incoming and outgoing arrays of information his mind directly linked with.

"That will suffice," the computer says, cutting off the Doctor's experimentation. "Would you like to continue practicing with other interface functions or end the simulation?"

-----

"Acknowledged." The Abh's screen switches to a split display, with a visual at the top and text along the bottom. The energy shields have three distinct layers. The outer defense is a spherical disruption field, designed to depolarize molecular bonds, tearing apart many physical objects and scrambling electronics, it can also scatter light-based weaponry. Closer in, projected in a form-fitting barrier about a meter from the outer hull, is a second line of defense. This energy shield performs the more traditional function of arresting incoming fire, but it also has transdimensional properties that allow it to block phased weapons. The ship itself, then is enveloped in a sort of dampening field that blocks attemps to deliver objects into the vessel directly by extra-universal means.

"These three systems are the typical energy-based defenses employed while I am in combat," the ship explains. "I can also generate a phased cloaking field to hide and evade enemy fire, but I cannot attack with my energy weapons in that state."

It was a typical draw back of a cloaked ship. Still the ship was a grade up above anything Souboney had seen from the Socialist Republic though there was always the possibility of a top secret ship in the works that could humble everything here.

"An impressive shielding system you have here. Three layers of shields to accomodate almost any type of attack. Tell me, in a standard engagement, how much firepower does it require to bring down your shields?"

"Please clarify your question," the computer requests.

"That will suffice," the computer says, cutting off the Doctor's experimentation. "Would you like to continue practicing with other interface functions or end the simulation?"

The Doctor could only reply, afraid to pull off the helmet: "Umm.....I think I am about ready to end the simulation now."

Computers... Souboney isolated the outer layer of shields for the A.I. on the computer screen. "A standard Abh mine attack can consist of hundreds to thousands of anti-matter fueled mobile mines. Assuming that anywhere between five or ten of these mines crashed against this outter layer shield continuously, how long would it take to bring this one layer of shielding down?"

"Acknowledged." Kimball's control over the ship is first to go, then the uplink to his active thought and memory; those pieces of information he hadn't concentrated on as part of the exercise seem to vanish from his mind. Last of all, the interface surrenders control of his visual and auditory cortex. Like changing the channel on a television, the simulation vanishes and the Doctor suddenly sees and hears reality again.

"The interface has been terminated," the computer announces to everyone on the bridge, including now Dr. Kimball. "You may remove the helmet."

The computer then replies to the Abh officer; but it still doesn't offer an answer. "I require current information about the power of Abh anti-matter fueled mobile mines to process your question. My weapons database has not been updated in four hundred forty-eight years, three months, and twenty-seven days. It is likely the Abh arsenal has been upgraded in that time."

"The interface has been terminated," the computer announces to everyone on the bridge, including now Dr. Kimball. "You may remove the helmet."

The procedure complete, Kimball removes the helmet, stands up, and stretches his legs and arms. The other members of his team, who had been eagerly collecting data on the mind-machine interface, proceed to appear by his side; they are eager to know what it was like in there.

Kimball waved them back, saying, "Boys. Girls. You're probably wondering what its like to use the Neural Interface. And lemme tell you this. It's a hell of an experience. I need some time to describe it, but I can only say its like being one with the vessel. You know what it knows, and you can tell it what to do."

The others murmured; this had to be something big.

Kimball then said, looking at their gawking somewhat dissaprovingly, "Well, don't just stand there. Tell me what you've got for data."

Kimball was then led to the copies of the readouts and the notes the crew took as he underwent the test. All within passable limits, though there was that initial fluctuation as he plugged himself in. All and all, not bad....

He then turned to the Computer and asked, "Computer....I'd like to explore the holographic projection systems now, if you please."

The computer then replies to the Abh officer; but it still doesn't offer an answer. "I require current information about the power of Abh anti-matter fueled mobile mines to process your question. My weapons database has not been updated in four hundred forty-eight years, three months, and twenty-seven days. It is likely the Abh arsenal has been upgraded in that time."

Souboney was slightly annoyed with the A.I. at this moment. This was one of the reasons that the Abh did not have such components installed in their ships. They had attitudes, and there was more than enough of that without a bit of help from a computer.

"Just run with the current Abh anti-matter fueled mobile mines information that you do have. I can make the relative comparison on my own. How long would it take?"

"Would you like to examine the specifications from the bridge, or view my full range of capabilities in the holodeck?" the computer asks Kimball.

Picking up on the edge in Souboney's voice, the system accounts for the remaining variables itself. "Under normal conditions, my standard combat shield configuration can withstand a sustained assault of ten antimatter mines per second for approximately four minutes and twenty seconds."

"Would you like to examine the specifications from the bridge, or view my full range of capabilities in the holodeck?" the computer asks Kimball.

Kimball then claps his hands together, rubs them eagerly, and then says, "I'd like to see the full range of capacities in the holodeck, if you please." The New Dornalians possessed holographic technology, though compared to what the Xanthalians seemed to have, it was behind....

OOC:I have completely lost my train of thought for this thread...

IC:

2,600 mines was a hell of a lot of mines to throw at one ship and Souboney could well imagine the frustration in the Abh's ancestors when one of these ships would refuse to die. Though, in the old days mine attacks would number in the millions and last a good amount of time. Still, the shielding system was an impressive feat to have accomplished. Reinstating such technology into the Socialist navy would be a great boon in their arsenal.

"Impressive. Do you have details of the shield generator and its power source?"

Taking his cue, the thanic officer steps into the turbolift. "I will take you to the holodeck facilities," it says.

"A systems schematic is stored in my database, but it does not include complete technical details of the systems themselves. If your goal is to replicate the technology, your team will have to examine the generators to obtain their exact specifications."

"Point taken. Do you have anything else you can offer me on this ship?"

"Please clarify your question," the AI replies.

-----

The Dornalians arrive at the holodeck after a short walk from the lift, and the door opens as they approach to admit them. The room is fairly large for a ship of this size, with 400 square meters of floorspace and a ceiling about ten meters high. The space seems all the larger due to the fact it is completely empty. The blank walls give it the feeling of a very spatious holding cell. Future stops them at the entrance, allowing them to look, but not to enter. "Please specify a simulation," the ship's computer requests.

Their guide gives the machine some instructions in its native language, which the translator relays as "Wakimaishu Northern Jungle."

The door closes, taking the holodeck out of view. "Please wait while the simulation is prepared."

They don't have to wait long. About ten seconds after closing, the doors re-open. This time, instead of a dark room the visitors see a dense green jungle stretching out before them. The plants are alien, but there's no mistaking it for anything other than what it is. The than is first to enter. As it passes through the doorway, its uniform vanishes and it is left naked. "I will provide you with appropriate attire when you enter the holodeck," the computer explains to anyone who might be nervous about going in after seeing the than stripped of its clothing.

"I am wondering what other systems you have in your database. Can you show me anything on weapon systems or propulsion? If not, then I believe I am finished with this section of the ship."

The Dornalians arrive at the holodeck after a short walk from the lift, and the door opens as they approach to admit them. The room is fairly large for a ship of this size, with 400 square meters of floorspace and a ceiling about ten meters high. The space seems all the larger due to the fact it is completely empty. The blank walls give it the feeling of a very spatious holding cell. Future stops them at the entrance, allowing them to look, but not to enter. "Please specify a simulation," the ship's computer requests.

Their guide gives the machine some instructions in its native language, which the translator relays as "Wakimaishu Northern Jungle."

The door closes, taking the holodeck out of view. "Please wait while the simulation is prepared."

They don't have to wait long. About ten seconds after closing, the doors re-open. This time, instead of a dark room the visitors see a dense green jungle stretching out before them. The plants are alien, but there's no mistaking it for anything other than what it is. The than is first to enter. As it passes through the doorway, its uniform vanishes and it is left naked. "I will provide you with appropriate attire when you enter the holodeck," the computer explains to anyone who might be nervous about going in after seeing the than stripped of its clothing.

Looking at one another somewhat skeptically, the Dornalians shrug and walk inside the room. The room is somewhat familiar to them; holo-technology is not unfamiliar to the Dornalians and indeed is used to a limited extent in commercial and military application. However, the realism of the room is readily apparent and thus some impression is stilll made.

"Specifications for all systems aboard this vessel are stored in my database. On which weapon or propulsion system do you request information?"

-----

As they walk into the room, their clothes disappear, replaced by jungle gear. The computer even gives a couple of them machetes for good measure. When they enter, it's clear that this "holodeck" is not jut about holograms. They are immediately hit with a complete sensory experience; the taste of the air, the smell and sound of the jungle; they feel the stifling heat and humidity invading their personal space. The undergrowth rustles and moves around their feet. Everything has its own taste, texture, smell... it's an immersive environment. "The holodeck is designed for smaller groups," the computer advises them. "Since you are participating together, you must stay in close proximity to each other so that I can maintain the proper perspective parameters."

Now Souboney was getting somewhere with the AI. You just had to talk to them the right way. "First provide me a list of all weapon systems then we can isolate one or two to take a more detailed look at."

As they walk into the room, their clothes disappear, replaced by jungle gear. The computer even gives a couple of them machetes for good measure. When they enter, it's clear that this "holodeck" is not jut about holograms. They are immediately hit with a complete sensory experience; the taste of the air, the smell and sound of the jungle; they feel the stifling heat and humidity invading their personal space. The undergrowth rustles and moves around their feet. Everything has its own taste, texture, smell... it's an immersive environment. "The holodeck is designed for smaller groups," the computer advises them. "Since you are participating together, you must stay in close proximity to each other so that I can maintain the proper perspective parameters."

The others nodded, and stayed somewhat closer together to ensure they didn't get lost. This may have been a holographic jungle, but it felt real enough nonetheless. The moisture hit them, as did the heat. Dr. Kimball then turned, and said: "Alright, gents. Let's hump the boonies."

With that, they began exploring, but not before the men with the machetes--two very large kukri and bolo machetes--opted to take point. They would need them in the dense brush ahead, and they used them before long to begin hacking away the undergrowth.....in the meantime, Kimball rummages through his gear, and finds a GPS device-or at least a holographic fascimile of it.

"And yet it feels so real..." he said. He then turned to the men and asked, "Anybody got a map?"

They joked, "Hell, this is a jungle sim, but it feels real enough. There's gotta be a friggin map in this place."

One of them rummaged around his gear, and found one, unfurling it onto a rock. He then plotted out a course, and thus Kimball began following the pointmen, continously working to keep them on track as they soldiered forth into the unknown.

The computer minimizes the current display and shows a list of weapons. The vessel is equipped with what are titles phasers; but while they do bear some similarities to a standard phaser, their maximum power output and modulation options are substantially more impressive. However, bells and whistles aside they don't really stand out as anything more than very good energy weapons. The missile complement, or rather, the lack thereof, is more interesting. The ship does not normally keep missiles in storage; it replicates them, casing, computers, onboard systems, fuel, warhead, and all, as needed. As long as the system functions, the ship has a theoretically inexaustible missile supply. Even more exciting is that the system is not limited to one or even a list of predesigned missiles; though there are plenty to choose from. If needed, a competent engineer can make his own specifications for a missile and instruct the system to replicate it. The propulsion, payload, and guidance systems are in effect limited only by the imagination and known science. Based on the specifications for a few of the preprogrammed torpedoes, the Xanthalians did not lack in either department.

Though there are only the two "weapon systems" at the ship's disposal; there are a number of other systems that can be, and apparently were, used against an enemy in battle. The gravity projectors can create small black holes next to or, in many cases, inside another ship, tearing it apart. The transporters can be used to beam assault teams or explosives into other vessels. The ship can even punch a hole in spacetime itself, and virtually anything not protected by transdimensional shielding, if its power matrix is channeled through the deflector dish. Considering the damage it could do to all but the most advanced modern opponents, the fact that this ship was a light combat vessel, not equipped with what Old Xanthal would consider the 'big guns,' is frightening.

"Complete information on my offensive combat capabilities is available for download," the ship offers, "but this should be an adequate summary."

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As the group ventures forward, they begin to notice more details of the simulation; from the detailed texture of the surroundings to the animals. There are animals everywhere, though most of them are visible only to a keen observer. A snake-like creature coiling among vines, a large flat insect crouching on the ground, a bird visible for a few moments before vanishing into the canopy above. The sounds are alien, but not unlike what anyone who has been to a rainforest would expect from such an environment. The terrain is difficult, but their thanic guide seems quite at home here.

"Commander, you might want to have a look at this."

Keirn've heard Souboney calling to him and headed on over. The woman pointed at the screen streaming a large amount of information concerning the ship's weapon systems. Keirn've let out a long whistle. "Very interesting that they had this level of technology for their military fleet then suddenly lost it. Weapon systems of this calibur are kept secret from many in Star Forces and not even allies know of some of the things we do with dimensional ripping let alone attacks with it. Installing weapon abilities like the ones we use on a light attack vessel are no small feats."

"Sir?"

The Abh straightened up a little as he took his eyes away from the screen to Souboney. "Tearing holes in dimensions near or within a ship are all standard Abh tactics. It is common for Whitestars to strike first in such a manner. However, using a gate to space time, or plane space, to attack vessels is something used only for the Forger class vessels of Star Forces."

Souboney looked even more confused now. "The Forgers? I thought those were only used for exploring new sords or creating artificial ones."

"That's true and there are only two in existance, but they do serve a purpose in battle as well. They first saw battle during the dark ascendancy wars when Emperor Dusanyu went to the aid of the Gaians while they were under attack. It saw service a second time during the battle with Soujun over Terivine when we helped the Godulans before they betrayed the alliance. In both cases its main weapon was a temporary sord that would be fired into the middle of an enemy fleet then allowed to collapse. Ships would then be caught between two dimensions and torn apart. The second phase of that attack was far worse and more lethal when the two dimensions worked to equalize. It wiped entire squadrons and cleared sectors of space in a few simple shots. We never used it at Terivine because we never trusted the Godulans entirely but it still remains in our arsenal. The fact is that the old Xanthalian researchers found a way to scale it down and make it far more practical on a smaller vessel. It's something that the Information Bureau has not had time to do."

Souboney knew she was hearing information that was a bit out of her league since she was not as high within the military as Keirn've was but she did grasp the general concept of the weapon. For now she would have to handle one thing at a time. The phasers of the ship could easily be replicated considering the extensive use of energy weaponry that the Abh used but they also fancied their missle technology which drew the woman to the replicating technology of this ship. Abh replicators could reproduce a number of missles but they tended to be limited on the variety. This one however seemed to have no limits.

"Computer, isolate the replicating missle systems of this ship and focus in on that. Can you give me a more detailed reading on how this technology works or how your replicators are able to replicate any type of missle with warhead, computers, and onboard systems already intact?"

As the group ventures forward, they begin to notice more details of the simulation; from the detailed texture of the surroundings to the animals. There are animals everywhere, though most of them are visible only to a keen observer. A snake-like creature coiling among vines, a large flat insect crouching on the ground, a bird visible for a few moments before vanishing into the canopy above. The sounds are alien, but not unlike what anyone who has been to a rainforest would expect from such an environment. The terrain is difficult, but their thanic guide seems quite at home here.

Dr. Kimball and his team focused on manuevering through the rough terrain, the pointmen leading on and trying to find a reasonable path. The pointmen were helped out by their thanic leader's seeming familiarity with the terrain. The journey was made easier as a result, though it was still rough going. One man quipped, "For a buncha pencil pushers, they sure know how to put on a good nature walk. That there's a bonafide snake!" Kimball frowned at the man, shaking his head with the caustic reply of, "The than can hear us, jackass." He then made a motion that sent the message, "Cut it out." The others laughed, one going, "Well, its true!" before they went on.

Kimball sighed. Evidently, his men still were buying into those old stereotypes about the Xanthalian Pencil Pusher--submissive, pacifistic, always willing to wait in line like a good little school child, and always willing to fill out forms in triplicate, no matter how boring it was like a good little cog, instead of complaining to the manager and standing up for himself to reclaim his dignity like a proper Socialist Man. Kimball wondered when these wonders would persuade his men otherwise; no Pencil Pusher could have made these guns. A shame the vagaries of war made them give them up.

One of the pointmen asked the than, straining somewhat in the heat, "How much longer until the objective, sir?"

"Schematics for those systems and the details of their technical operation are not included in my database for security reasons. The replication system is a standard Old Xanthalian energy-matter converter."

A middle-aged human man in a lab coat emerges from the ready room and picks up some equipment in a corner, waving at the visitors. "You must be the GFFA folks. Finding everything alright?"

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"The objective is for you to assess the capabilities of the holographic systems of this vessel," the ruby than remarks. "This simulation has no preprogrammed goal."

"Than, as you may know, are bred to mentally and physically specialize in a particular field," the ship's AI chimes in. "As an engineer, Fąbrel Dąιąl is not adept at casual social interaction. Please do not be offended by its limited communication. I can add an objective to this simulation, or create a different simulation if you prefer."

Souboney looked up from her work station to the man that had emerged from the corner. She hadn't been expecting many people here to be speaking in galactic standard. "Well more or less. Just having a conversation with your computer here. I am trying to look more into the replicating technology of this ship. In particular dealing with the missle system. Simply informing me that it is Old Xanthalian energy-matter converter doesn't really help me. It's just a name and I have no idea how it compares to Abh replication technology. They are similar in appearances and functions to what we have but a little more advanced."

"The objective is for you to assess the capabilities of the holographic systems of this vessel," the ruby than remarks. "This simulation has no preprogrammed goal."

"Than, as you may know, are bred to mentally and physically specialize in a particular field," the ship's AI chimes in. "As an engineer, Fąbrel Dąιąl is not adept at casual social interaction. Please do not be offended by its limited communication. I can add an objective to this simulation, or create a different simulation if you prefer."

The group stopped and looked at one another. They expected that from a than; they had heard Than were pretty strange. Okay, they had evaluated the holographic capabilities of the systems well enough. But it seemed so boring and shallow to just leave a good thing behind.

One of the ranks spoke to the pointman, saying, "Get an objective made. We need some reason to be humping around here. It's damn hot, and I'm sweatier than a pig in a sauna!"

The Pointman looked up to the "sky" and said, "Computer, requesting an objective."

One man chimed in with, "An archaeological find, perhaps!?"

Another snickered and said, "Nah! How'z about a damsel in distress!?"

The group then laughed it off. The Pointman then sighed, declaring, "Computer, assign us an objective. Randomize."

The man sets his equipment down on an inactive console, sorting through it as he speaks.

"Well, I don't really know much about Abh technology, so I can't help you with a comparison, but I know my way around this ship pretty well. My current assignment is cataloguing the computer information database, but there's no hurry. If I can give you a hand with something, just let me know." Picking a palm-sized device out of the assorted tools, he slides it into a pocket and closes the rest up in their case. "My name's Sasha, by the way. Sasha Mendelov."

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"Acknowledged. A camera can be found in the than's backpack. Your objective is to take clear pictures of native fauna. Your performance will be judged on the number and type of creatures photographed in the amount of time you spend pursuing this objective. Picture quality will also be judged in my assessment. I will begin timing you now."

There are a few obvious targets for photography in view; a colorful snake on a branch several yards away, a small spider-like creature on a leaf just a few inches from one of the Dornalians' head, and something resembling a large furry slug on the leafy forest floor.

"Acknowledged. A camera can be found in the than's backpack. Your objective is to take clear pictures of native fauna. Your performance will be judged on the number and type of creatures photographed in the amount of time you spend pursuing this objective. Picture quality will also be judged in my assessment. I will begin timing you now."

There are a few obvious targets for photography in view; a colorful snake on a branch several yards away, a small spider-like creature on a leaf just a few inches from one of the Dornalians' head, and something resembling a large furry slug on the leafy forest floor.

The others turned and looked at one another. For a computer with lots of Turing time on it, it was sure unimpressive. No damsels? No gunfights? Ah well. They began to skeptically whisper among one another indistinctly, stopping to do so.

The Pointman then turned around and saw the men stopping. He sighed, and merely replied, "Guys....let's just do what the lady says. It gives us something to do." He then took the camera out of the backpack of their Thanic leader, and then motioned it at the men, saying, "Any of you fucks know how to use a camera?"

One man stepped up and snatched the camera, saying, "I do" with a sarcastic smile. He then motioned for the group to stop and stay silent, as he steadied the camera and began taking pictures of the aforementioned fauna. The man had actually no knowledge of how to use a camera; but he had been to enough family reunions to make one produce the results he wanted. Rules of three, whatnot.

The man sets his equipment down on an inactive console, sorting through it as he speaks.

"Well, I don't really know much about Abh technology, so I can't help you with a comparison, but I know my way around this ship pretty well. My current assignment is cataloguing the computer information database, but there's no hurry. If I can give you a hand with something, just let me know." Picking a palm-sized device out of the assorted tools, he slides it into a pocket and closes the rest up in their case. "My name's Sasha, by the way. Sasha Mendelov."

"I am Souboney and my Abh companion here is Keirn've of the Information Bureau and an officer in the Galactic Federation."

She looks through the readout of the computer one more time. "I don't really need anyone to compare the technology for me, I just need information on how the replicators worked on this ship. It would help me to understand the missle systems a little bit better. If you had any information on such systems, I would most appreciate it."

"Well, huh." Sasha scratches his head, moving to look at the display himself. "Okay, these are the missile replicators. Those aren't dynamic source; they just draw energy from the DUET and convert it to material, so there's no matter input. I'm assuming you know how energy-matter conversion works; well, that's about it. It's not like matter replication is anything special. If it's the complexity of the stuff it can create that's impressing you, you want to be looking at memory buffers and processing power; that's all centralized in the main computer. I don't think the Queen or the ship will let you take apart the computer core, though."

The engineer pokes at the console, navigating to a list of the missile designs stored in the ship's memory. "Anyway, if you want to check out the missile systems for their own sake, I'd forget the replicators. The missiles are one of the few things you can get blueprints for on the database. How you build and shoot 'em is sorta beside the point. If you want a physical model to work with, just have the ship replicate the ones you're interested in minus the payload itself. You'll need special authorization to handle most of the warheads; wouldn't want you to blow us all up." He looks up at Souboney with a hasty correction. "Not that I doubt your competence or anything."

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As they set about their task, the computer issues a rejoinder: "You instructed me to assign you a random objective. If you desire a different scenario, please specify." Whether it's an apology, a rebuke, or simply an impartial offer from a thoughtless machine is difficult to tell.

As they set about their task, the computer issues a rejoinder: "You instructed me to assign you a random objective. If you desire a different scenario, please specify." Whether it's an apology, a rebuke, or simply an impartial offer from a thoughtless machine is difficult to tell.

The men acknowledged the AI, and then went back to their tasks. They were too busy wandering about, taking pictures.

"That is slightly disappointing. The complexity of the material it can create was what I was originally interested in."

Souboney returns to the computer screen absently. "I haven't played with missle warheads and reactor core models since I was a kid. . . Computer, display all known missle types that this vessel can produce."

"That information is already being displayed."

OOC: Hey Xan - not to be a pain or anything but could you post what those different types of missles are so I know what I'm looking at. I didn't find it in any of the back posts so maybe I missed something. In that case you could just quote.

There are hundreds of designs stored in the computer's memory, with various capabilities and payloads. The way they're displayed now, it's difficult to pick one out of the list. Perhaps comprehending the difficulty, the computer offers its services. "I can shorten the list to suit your parameters. Is there a particular guidance system or payload that interests you?"

Souboney moved a lock of her brown hair aside as she thought about where to start in all this. It was a difficult task filing through so many designs without knowing what she really wanted. With hundreds of designs, nothing really stood out to her.

"Let's try this. Computer, arrange missles by payload size and pull up for me ordinance with the largest payload possible and the smallest please along with their guidance systems. If you would as an aside, locate the most sophisticated guidance system in the arsenal and put that on a separate screen for me."

The missiles are so arranged. Since all the missiles have to fire out of the same tubes, payloads don't vary much: the effect of the missiles depend more on what they carry than how much. As a result, the missile with the largest potential payload is a long model with limited propulsion and guidance systems. The most sophisticated guidance system is displayed seperately; it's not associated directly with any one design; rather it is merely an option that can be integrated into many different missile designs depending on the size of the misslie and payload and propulsion space requirements.

The guidance system is complex. It could perhaps be better described as an integrated amalgamation of many different semi-independant systems. It includes traditional visual, electromagnetic, radio, and temperature sensors, as well as a sort of transdimensional scanner, presumably for use on missiles with phasing capabilities. It also includes an encrypted uplink to allied ships that can make use of additional tracking data or mechanisms to aid its own systems. The integration programming makes use of launch commands and an onboard computer to monitor and interpret all inputs and "decide" which to use and how to use them for tracking targets. This includes a highly specialized, rudimentary AI to pick out inputs that don't make sense based on known data, usually the result of electronic warfare or other enemy countermeasures, and attempt to keep the missile on course.

Souboney let out a low whistle at the guidance system, losing almost all interest in the different arrangement of missles. Instead she found herself disecting known technology and the complex meshing of them all. The traditional sensors were well known to her as they were used on almost everything that carried an electrical current.

Interdimensional sensors were more on the high end though the engineer was familiar with them, they were not widely used on missle systems within Star Forces. Only a few missle cruisers carried transphasic torpedoes with the ability to phase passed shields or armor plating but the basics were all still present. While the Abh did not use AI on a large scale, Souboney was confident that the Dornalians could recreate such a specialized AI for the purpose of the guidance system.

"You know, with a little Dornalian help, we could recreate this guidance system."

She looked over to Sasha. "Do you know if this particular system is being used in the Xanthalian Navy to date?"

OOC: Been away too long.

IC:

The men wandering about the jungle got bored. Eventually, one of the men said, "Computer, change of pace. Bring up a simulation of the Malaysian-Indonesian Confronation (http://http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indonesia-Malaysia_confrontation), and dress squad in period appropriate British Royal Marine equipment if possible. If that is not available, select next available jungle conflict and assign squad appropriate equipment."

The others looked at the man like he had just signed a death sentence....

"Nah; the technological demands are a bit hefty, not to mention the cost, for Xanthal's present capabilities. We can't create transphasic weaponry on our own anyway, so those kind of scanners are useless on a projectile. The standard guidance system on labule mines isn't dissimilar in design philosophy, but it's a lot more basic in terms of system integration."

Sasha smiles helplessly. "Xanthalian technology isn't what it used to be, I'm afraid; but you could probably tell that just by being here." He looks around admiringly. "This ship could probably take out a whole Labule battle fleet on its own under the right conditions."

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The holodeck door opens. "The simulation will load when the room is vacated," the computer prompts. Future steps out and away from the door, unreadable as ever.

The holodeck door opens. "The simulation will load when the room is vacated," the computer prompts. Future steps out and away from the door, unreadable as ever.

The Dornalians finished taking pictures and then left the holodeck. As to be expected, there were some mutterings of, "Okay," and "Meh." Others said nothing. The head of the team, meanwhile, had been writing observations of what he had seen so far. So far, the holographic technology was very realistic--on par with Dornalian technology, yet better in terms of lifelike nature and challenge.

As the door closed, one of the men wondered out loud, "Who the fuck suggested the Confrontation?"

"I did, sir," another said, raising his hand.

"Goddamnit. You know that's a shooting war. If we're not careful, that'll ruin the holodeck," the man replied. He then asked the computer, "Computer, what are the basic specifics concerning the layout, construction, dimensions and capabilities of this holographic simulation room? Also, will the Confrontation simulation be run with safety measures?"

Souboney lookes down at the computer console somewhat disappointed. "I see."

Looking back up at the screen, the woman's eyes continued to scan over the list of other ordnance readouts though somewhat half hazardly. "Xanthal could always attempt to regain that level of technology. One small invention at a time maybe."

Sighing, she shook the thought from her head. "Perhaps you can help me then. What is it that your government is looking to learn from all of this? Do they want to send anything back into production or just simply study what was?"

Mendelov shrugs nonchalantly. "Actually, Xanthal doesn't do much work with these relics anymore. We still poke around, but we've already got more data on this thing than we know what to do with. Besides, the powers that be have become more interested in filling the gaps with foreign technologies than trying to develop everything internally with our technology set back as far as it has been. We can't all be on the cutting edge; I suppose our leaders have just come to accept that Xanthal's scientific and engineering capabilities aren't what they used to be, and aren't in a favorable position to make up for lost ground. From what I understand, this facility may not even be running in a decade or two. Disappointing for a man like me, I'm sure you can imagine, but I get where the Triumvirate and military brass are coming from. The effort to put Xanthal back on its old footing has had high costs and not a lot of results. Maybe it's time for all of us to start thinking in terms of a new niche for ourselves in the galactic community.

"Anyway, you're here for the GFFA, not for Xanthal. Even if we can't manage to integrate any of this into our own ships, you might be able to." Sasha gives the abh a friendly slap on the back.

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"The simulation room is a cuboid, twenty by twenty by ten meters. It is constructed of holographic projectors and energy-matter converters. It is capable of dynamic simulation of any subatomically specifiable environment with visual, auditory, gustatory, olfactory, and tactile components. Designed for a single occupant or proximate group. Safety protocols are designed to prevent physical harm to users. All simulations are run with safety protocols unless otherwise requested. Use of safety protocols may limit accurate rendering of the requested simulation."

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"The simulation room is a cuboid, twenty by twenty by ten meters. It is constructed of holographic projectors and energy-matter converters. It is capable of dynamic simulation of any subatomically specifiable environment with visual, auditory, gustatory, olfactory, and tactile components. Designed for a single occupant or proximate group. Safety protocols are designed to prevent physical harm to users. All simulations are run with safety protocols unless otherwise requested. Use of safety protocols may limit accurate rendering of the requested simulation."

"The safety protocols are acceptable," said the leader of the group with a relieved tone. "In fact, please keep them on for the duration of the simulation, and lock them in place. I'd rather have no one die today because of boredom."

One of the others went, "Yeah, Mickey" to the man who suggested the exercise. The others frowned at him. Yeah, the group of them did their National Service, but the lot of them rather did like the Nature Walk and weren't good with the idea of being shot at by Indonesians eager to break up a state you worked hard for. Still, it would be a change of pace....

"I'm sorry to say but that is disappointing. I am not exactly sure how useful some of this will be to the Galactic Federation without being able to take physical examples back to our nations for further study."

Souboney fiddled with some of the controls for a time. She finally looked back up to the researcher with an idea. "You know, Xanthal could always send students abroad to learn new technological skills. Perhaps they can still catch up and find a niche in technology elsewhere. Maybe not in military technology but always something that could improve life in Xanthal."

The Xanthalian offer did not prove quite as generous as it might have were security restrictions on what the GFFA engineers could disassemble or bring home not so harsh, but the alliance's representatives did not go home empty-handed. They were given schematics for the ship's offensive and defensive systems, its artificial intelligence, neural control interface, and holographic simulator, and after some negotiation Souboney was allowed to take back several actual missiles with design elements of interest, albeit none of them with warheads.

Not long after their visit, most research at the Special Weapons Development Facility was suspended as the liberalization of the Xanthalian government undercut support for its continued operation. It remains the most secure area in Xanthal, and information about projects undertaken there, past and present, remains largely classified.