NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Closed unless invited.

IC:

Edges of Wild Space, Observation Space Station Vespasian

On the bleak edges of civilized space there are always areas and places of curiosity. Most are untouched planets with perfect atmospheres and climate, rich in minerals and material, while others are simply a section of beautiful stars which feed the eye's hunger. One such location was the Vespasian.

Originally it had been part of an exploration program created by the late Emperor Shadaum IV more than fifty years prior when the aged man had wished to stretch the limits of his empire to the limits. After Shadaum's death and the rise of Treize Kushrenada of OZ the program was abandoned for other things; though the station remained well kept by programmed droids and a crew that would habitually work different experiments there from time to time.

Now it was being used for a different purpose. Grand Admiral Thrawn had turned it into a weigh station and supply depot for a few of his ships on his outward campaign into Wild Space on Treize's orders more than twenty years prior. Now it was manned by crack stormtroopers and outfitted for long range communication, carried the newest in sensors, and was equipped with a working cloak shield. The perfect place for clandestine meetings.

A secret and encrypted message had been sent to a number of nations. Old friends and new. And a meeting would be had.

- - -

Out of hyperspace launched a Venator II-class Star Destroyer, its sleek dagger edge cutting through the starlit background like a shark in black water back on old Terra. Transponder signals reflected back and forth between the Star Destroyer and the station. Heavy turbolaser batteries on the upper ring of the station tracked the ship until an all-clear sign was sent. Pilots in interceptor fighters were pulled off high alert. The station's commander prepared the hangar bay.

A black plated Lambda-class shuttle launched from the belly of the Star Destroyer and like a swan gracefully through the ionized protective fields over the large main hangar and came to a halt.

In the hangar itself Commander Kratas stood waiting. Beside him, just coming to attention, stood an entire company of stormtroopers. Their blaster rifles held at the port, their heels clashed together like the sound of a gun blast. All eyes turned as the shuttles ramp came down and a bit of exhaust smoke appeared. And down its surface marched Emperor Treize Kushrenada himself.

Kratas bowed. "My lord emperor, your arrival is unexpected. We had planned to-."

"You may dispense with the pleasantries commander," said Treize kindly. "They're wasted on me as it were. Are the preparations complete?" The pair walked across the hangar and into the main halls of the complex. They passed a series of guarded intersections before finally coming to a wide conference hall with lavender carpets and a wide oval-shaped wooden table. Comfortable chairs were spaced out evenly around it, a small card with a certain nation's name set in front of each place.

"You can see for yourself my lord," said Kratas proudly. "I've left nothing to chance and have had the station of yellow alert for the last 18 hours."

"Good," smiled Treize. "Now we just have to wait for our guests to arrive. Did you forward that message I sent to Grand Admiral Thrawn?"

"I did your Excellency, as ordered."

"Very well then. I will sleep for a while in my quarters. I hopped on ship after making a big speech and its tiresome. Wake me when the first of our guests arrive." Treize walked out of the conference hall to find his way onto some bunk or other.

(reserved for a post tomorrow)

Prime Minister Claire Montgomery was tired. She had spent the last fourteen hours reading report after report about the politics, culture, military and everything else imaginable about the galactic cluster known to the Confederacy as Beta Cluster. Not a particularly witty name but astrocartographers are more about function than form.

Frankly, Claire didn't care what it was called, it was the source of her biggest pain in the ass. She'd rather deal with rooting out the last of the isolationist guerrillas than this, but whether she liked it or not Beta Cluster was the more pressing issue.

Claire sighed,rubbed her temples and keyed the next report. It was yet another that detailed old allies and enemies of the Confederacy. The nation of Thrashia, good, Galactic Empire, bad. This one said that Thrashia was in the Galactic Empire and was still good, she had read a lot of reports that said otherwise and a lot that agreed. Claire once again cursed the isolationists and their damn civil war, too many historical records had been destroyed in the opening weeks of the conflict.

The computer beeped its receival of a message. Claire stole a glance at the indicator and quickly opened it when she saw it was marked urgent. A deep space listening in Beta Cluster post had picked up a signal, that in and of itself was nothing strange but this one shared an encryption that matched one in historical records that had been used by Thrashia. It detailed a meeting, held coordinates and addressed itself to friends.

Claire mulled it over, it was worth sending a a diplomatic team, with significant military escort of course. She yawned, it was an important issue, but it would have to wait until morning. Exhaustion had finally caught up with Claire and she had fallen asleep in her office chair.

All he could do for the time being was sit quietly in his chair. He looked around the table. Most of the seats were still empty. This suprised him, surely the Azahan delegate, probably the most cynical one at this meeting, would be one of the first to arrive.

He was the Secretary of the head of the department of war... no, the Head hadn't even bother to show up, so instead he sent his secretary in his wake. There was already much upheaval about the whole situation in the war rooms of Azaha, whether or not to help a random set of devious alligned nations. To show this, they had sent a lowly secretary. While he had the authority to agree or disagree, he surely wasn't an imposing man.

Unlike most others in the department of war, he did not wear armor, or a flashy medal set uniform, or even rags that showed an awesome physique. Rather, he wore a simple business suit. It was a grey blazer, a dark purple tie, and a white undershirt. It would serve his purpose.

So he sat in his chair, reclining back. Organizing his thoughts, he did another scan of the room. It was quiet.

Treize stumble quickly out of his bed bunk and into his clothes. It took him a minute before he realized that he was trying to put a sock on his hand and his shirt on his foot. After getting his clothes in the proper order and made up he walked out of the room and found his two escorts. The black reflective plates of their eye-sights shined in the light.

"The representative of Azaha has arrived your Excellency. We escorted him to the meeting you as you ordered," reported one trooper.

"Should have woken me first," said Treize, walking fast and brisk.

"We thought you should have a bit more sleep," said the other.

The trio walked at speed through the halls of the station before finally entering the nalwood doors that led into the conference room. Inside a man sat alone at the table, looking for all the world as if he didn't want to really be there.

"Welcome!" said Treize, walking towards him. "I am Treize Kushrenada. Its a pleasure to meet you."

<reserved>

On board the Unnamed
Commander Steel was in no mood for anything out of the ordinary. Although as of late the only thing he would have considered out of the ordinary would be the universe coming to an abrupt and screeching halt. So he was not overly surprised when the World Fleet monitoring stations picked up a message detailing a clandestine meeting. He spent less time deciding his course of action over it than he did reading it.

Within an hour a lightly armed diplomatic ship dropped out of the hangars of the massive 30km World Ship and aligned itself with the coordinates contained in the message. Starting its sublight burn to a safe distance, the crew exchanged final farewells with loved ones and friends. Then, with a quick flash that barely illuminated a fraction of the Unnamed the ship was gone.

~~Some time later at the Vespasian~~
A message flitted over a narrow band comm frequency aimed at the station.
This is the FSWF Diplomatic Envoy. We have arrived, please provide docking information at your leisure. Councilman Hiran and Commander Steel are patient men.

A large Demeter class cruiser floated out of a massive vortex of crackling blue lighting energy that had erupted in the depths of lifeless space, its large shimmering ominous looking body floated gently towards the space station, it came to a stop as its massive engines dumbed down from a flare up of white and blue particle energy behind them. The bridge of the ship was crowded with crew and officers, President Bastidas was on the bridge near the captain, his smooth tan skin dotted with sweat as he put his hands on a console. two officers stood by him carrying M-9 SMG'S. They stood forth looking out to the station, they're eyes peering out in to the shimmering darkness of space... the cruiser sent a message to the station, the commanders voice echoed around the entire area.

"This is the UCS York Town , requesting to deposit our representative at this station" the message was simple and technical.

Several tears in reality opened in the space near the Station, Vespasian. From them flew three small vessels, two Woglinde class Space gun escorts and a single Beowulf escort carriers. These vessels were carrying the Divine Kingdom delegation from Charybdis. Moments later another tear opened and the kilometer long bulk of a Divinity class fleet carrier, of the Grand Army of the Prefecture exited.

The Divine Kingdom had no ships of its own to transport delegations in this manner, and had graciously accepted the offer of the GFN to assist them in arriving at their destination. They were accompanied of course, by a Grahfsberg noble, by the name of Kaz Lerondhim. He was technically there as an observer, but had asked permission to speak on anything that may be of interest to his own nation.

Lord Hettar Karalim, the head of the fourth house, the Resplendent warriors of Purity, was the official delegate for the Divine Kingdom in this meeting. The Lord sent a simple welcome transmission to the station, he wasnt a fan of resplendent entrances, which is why he refused the Prefects idea for a massive honour guard of ships and men. This was a diplomatic function, not a show to impress ones allies, he had chastised the Prefect.

Prefect Morotov was riding aboard the vessel, the Eternal Flame, and spent a little more time on his introduction message. Still aside from the pleasantries and long lists of names and deeds, it said basically the same thing as the Divine Kingdoms message.

We are ready to come aboard.

Vespasian Control

The boarding crew of the station responded in perfect order to the response that unknown ships entered the system. The usual tracking by heavy weapons and the like followed by the preparation of a greeting party should they be enemies or friends, respectively.

The duty officer turned to his communications ensign. "Inform his Excellency that President Bastidas has arrived."

"Yes sir."

You may start your landing. Docking bay 3 has been designated for you. Follow the designated pathway.

Greetings to the Fedral Union. His Excellency wishes you to land in the 1st hangar bay. He will be waiting for you there.

OOC: Flaming Souls, I don't believe I invited you; but I am going to let is slide since I guess TFU or someone else did, which better be the case.

OOC: Yeah, TFU invited me.

IC: The diplomatic envoy steered itself expertly along the path as laid out before them. After coming to a rest inside the docking bay, the two delegates disembarked and waited for the arrival of an escort.

OOC: Yeah, TFU invited me.

IC: The diplomatic envoy steered itself expertly along the path as laid out before them. After coming to a rest inside the docking bay, the two delegates disembarked and waited for the arrival of an escort.

Waiting for the two delegates was a company of stormtroopers and an Imperial Fleet officer, Commander Kratas. Kratas had served on the frontier of Thrashian space for nearly a decade. Graduating top 3rd in his class at the Fleet Academy on Carida, it was believed Kratas would go on to become an admiral some day. However for reasons unknown Kratas chose to simply remain a normal ship captain, commanding a Star Destroyer on the fringe. Due to his experience and good record, Grand Admiral Thrawn had seen fit to allow him command of the Vespasian and its four Star Destroyer accompaniment.

Kratas snapped his heels together in salute. "Welcome gentlemen of Flaming Soul. It is an honor. If you will follow these guards here, they will escort you to the conference hall. The delegates from Azaha and the Fedral Union have already arrived as well."

Four stormtroopers marched forward and with the two Flaming Soul delegates, led them through the station before finally reaching the conference room. Refreshments were brought out by servants now that several of the coming guests had arrived. Aged wine and tiers of chocolate parfa cakes, a Thrashian specialty, awaited on silver platers and golden jugs.

Godulan bump for great justice... this is the thread you lot wanted me to pay attention to, innit?

President bastidas stood in the main hall looking around, his smooth skin empathized by the light of the area, as his suit hung semi loosely and semi tightly over his body, his black hair was short and brown eyes peered around as he wandered up to the delegations and said in a diplomatic young voice.

"Hello its a pleasure to meet all of you, I'm president Robert bastidas of the Federal Union" he said with a bow and stuck out his hand for a shake. he then turned over to look at every one. he smiled as he stood there wiaitng for every one.

Several tears in reality opened in the space near the Station, Vespasian. From them flew three small vessels, two Woglinde class Space gun escorts and a single Beowulf escort carriers. These vessels were carrying the Divine Kingdom delegation from Charybdis. Moments later another tear opened and the kilometer long bulk of a Divinity class fleet carrier, of the Grand Army of the Prefecture exited.

The Divine Kingdom had no ships of its own to transport delegations in this manner, and had graciously accepted the offer of the GFN to assist them in arriving at their destination. They were accompanied of course, by a Grahfsberg noble, by the name of Kaz Lerondhim. He was technically there as an observer, but had asked permission to speak on anything that may be of interest to his own nation.

Lord Hettar Karalim, the head of the fourth house, the Resplendent warriors of Purity, was the official delegate for the Divine Kingdom in this meeting. The Lord sent a simple welcome transmission to the station, he wasnt a fan of resplendent entrances, which is why he refused the Prefects idea for a massive honour guard of ships and men. This was a diplomatic function, not a show to impress ones allies, he had chastised the Prefect.

Prefect Morotov was riding aboard the vessel, the Eternal Flame, and spent a little more time on his introduction message. Still aside from the pleasantries and long lists of names and deeds, it said basically the same thing as the Divine Kingdoms message.

We are ready to come aboard.

"Both the Lord Karalim and Grahfberg noble Kar Larondhim are welcome to come aboard," replied Vespasian control. "Docking days 2 and 4 respectively. We ask your escorts to withdraw within two million kilometers of the station. No other delegate is allowed either and is a safety measure for secrecy."


Waiting in each hangar bay was a different company of either naval stormtroopers or a company of the renown 501st clonetrooper legion. A Fleet officer of Captain rank or higher awaited to escort each delegate to the conference room.

President bastidas stood in the main hall looking around, his smooth skin empathized by the light of the area, as his suit hung semi loosely and semi tightly over his body, his black hair was short and brown eyes peered around as he wandered up to the delegations and said in a diplomatic young voice.

"Hello its a pleasure to meet all of you, I'm president Robert bastidas of the Federal Union" he said with a bow and stuck out his hand for a shake. he then turned over to look at every one. he smiled as he stood there wiaitng for every one.

Waiting for President Bastidas was Emperor Treize Kushrenada (http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b184/Upum/Gundams/treize1.jpg). He wore his more informal attire: white pants with knee-high black boots, a white shirt and blue jerkin, and over his left shoulder a half cape that was, within Thrashia, his trade mark.

He bowed forward a little to President Basitdas and took the proffered hand shake. "It's an honor to meet you President Robert Bastidas. Its been long in the waiting, our two meeting, even through we've talked before hand many times over gNet conversations."

Treize turned and led Robert out of the hangar and past the honor guard of two companies of the 501st, and a platoon of AT-PTs. A army captain dismissed them as the two national leaders disappeared from the hangar.

Leading him down the hall Treize smiled at the Fedral Union leader. "You arrived in perfect standing Robert. I may call you Robert right? Only the delegations from Azaha and Flaming Soul have arrived. They told me, the Flaming Soul men that is, that you invited them and I must say they are charming fellows. And the delegates from Tannelorn should be arriving any minute as well."

The pair came to the large nalwood doors and entered. The conference room was now filled with gold and silver serving trays filled with snacks and drink. Above, on a catwalk that surrounded the room, servants rushed too and fro holding more platters and pitchers of wine. Sitting already were the Azaha delegate and the Flaming Soul delegates. Just behind Treize entered Commander Kratas and the two men of Tannelorn.

The Azahan delegate looked about the room. Seeing the overly clad Fedral president, he scoffed.

"This is a meeting for war, not a fashion show..." He muttered under his breath.

Sitting up straight, he put his hands and forearms on the table, clasping his fingers together. "So, we can we get this show on the road? I have a time table to meet. I need to hear what you want from the Azahan government, what you're wlling to exchange, and why. So far, I am here out of faith because I really have no idea what the hell is going on."

He looked around the room, making eye contact with everyone present.

"Easy my friend," said Treize, giving a disarming smile. "Once all the others have arrived, shortly I trust, we will begin and all will be made clear. That I promise you."

Treize showed Robert to his designated seat and poured both Robert and the Azaha delegate a glass of red wine. "Why not drink this? It calms the nerves."

Voxian Minister of War Carnaro Balbo entered the conference room and surveyed those around the room. Smoothing out his beard he went to take his seat, his heavy black boots clacking loudly with each step.

"Hello Gentlemen, have I missed anything"

Voxian Minister of War Carnaro Balbo entered the conference room and surveyed those around the room. Smoothing out his beard he went to take his seat, his heavy black boots clacking loudly with each step.

"Hello Gentlemen, have I missed anything"

"Ah," Treize turned and proffered his hand to the newcomer. "Mr. Balbo, its a pleasure to meet you. I've heard much of you and your nation. While our alliance is an old one, it seems to still hold strong. It's a pity we never met before this meeting was to take place."

Treize looked around the room. "Hmm, we are waiting now for only a few more to arrive. Please, gentlemen help yourself to a bit wine and a small snack."

In the deep folds of space communication and travel takes a considerable amount of time. Thus when a high priority, secret message arrived from the edges of wild space, no doubt it was immediately brought before the High Council of Greys. After some lengthy discussion about the mysterious message, Lord Mistress Dani decided to act on the matter, sending forth her most esteemed emissary, the venerable Master Kendo Zayne (http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/DMG2005/KendoZayne.jpg).

From the farthest corner of the galaxy a trio of Devastator Class Star Destroyers set off on their long journey. However, before launching into hyperspace for the trip from one corner of wild space to another, they had to pass through the transitory mists that had long kept the Empire protected. Few routes through the mists were known - none of them safe enough for hyperspace travel - and they were kept secret by order of the High Council.

Thus as the hours and days past, the ninety-six year old Grey Master spent his time meditating in one of the ship's force chambers. Something called to him... a disturbance in the force that echoed through space, time, and history. Perhaps this peculiar meeting would reveal what darkness was falling...

The ships did not arrive at the cloaked station. Instead, they remained at a distance in another system so as not to lead anyone to the station or cause anyone on the station reason to worry. The Devastators would, however, remain on full alert and ready to make the quick jump in if the situation called for drastic measures.

While the ships settled in to their parking spots, Master Kendo Zayne boarded an outdated Lambda Class Shuttle and blasted out of the docking bay. Quickly, on either side of him, a pair of TIE Ghosts took up flanking positions as they escorted him to the Vespasian. Once there they would break off and remain in close support, ready to escort him back for his long journey home. As they neared the coordinates sent via encrypted message, it became obvious that the old shuttle's sensors were not going to be able to pick up the cloaked station, so the pilot simply sent out a message on faith.

"This is Grey-2. I repeat, this is Grey-2. Come in Vespasian Station. Over." The ship's actual code was JKH32, but when one of the High Council Members was on board it was renamed Grey followed by their number on the Council - in this case 2 - for friendly transmissions. It was mostly symbolic, alerting others that a high-ranking member of the Empire was on board, but it also posed a security risk if intercepted by enemy transmissions.

A moment later as the shuttle drifted through space the reply crackled through over the communication board. "Grey-2, this is the Vespasian. You are clear to land in Docking Bay 5. Over."

After locking onto the communication and guiding signals given off by the station, the shuttle made a cut and headed for the appropriate docking bay. As planned, the TIE fighters broke off leaving the old Lambda Shuttle on its own. Hovering in midair for a moment, the shuttle turned around inside the bay so that it was facing into the depths of space and so that its main door in the rear allowed for a formal presentation. The door kicked open and slowly lowered into the exit ramp to the sound of its joints decompressing. Down the ramp marched two rows of ten clone troopers, dressed in their unique and distinctive grey armor. The front pair stopped at the bottom of the ramp an inch before the station's surface began and parted so that they stood on either side of the ramp facing inward with a corridor between them.

"I don't know why they insist on doing that..." a voice said to no one in particular. It was soon followed by its body; that of an old and wise Grey Jedi Master, hidden beneath the Order's famous grey cloaks. "I apologize for my tardiness but the remote location of both my departure point and destination made it difficult to arrive as requested..."

[ooc: Seeing as the Empire is located very far away and all of the stuff I said above, I would appreciate if he could be treated as one of the last to arrive. Just some fluid time so he can walk in as one of the last two or so.]

Long had the Godulan guns been pointed in the general direction of Imperial Territory. To say that there was no love lost between the Galactic Empire and its smaller opponent was to say that a stellar core would tend to get a mite balmy. So it was that word only came to the Godulans of a meeting of potential interest to them via a meandering progression of contacts and smuggling cells. Despite this, word did come with relative alacrity, and even more counterintuitive still was the fact that they actually decided to send an envoy.

As it was, such an invitation towards a planet would have been declined outright. The Godulans held their secrets sacrosanct, and any chance of a planetbound loudmouth blurting tales of crystalline ships romping about in Imperial space, while not tactically disastrous, were pretty damned inconvenient. The rendezvous point setting at some backwater space station seemed, for once, to be an opportune place for such a meeting.

And so, a single Godulan Slaughterking materialized but a short distance from the Vespasian Station, behaving for all intents as though it had always existed in that particular position of space. Short of a few glitters of disrupted photons, no fanfare whatsoever accompanied the arrival of the disc-shaped crystalline vessel.

Its only communication was to inform the station to prepare for an envoy. Otherwise, it simply held position.

Within the convocation room itself, a single figure materialized with a resounding PWUMM and a slight burst of displaced air. He stood six feet even, and held his hands clasped before him in some form of eccentric prayer or meditation. Though slight of build, his body appeared as though it had been carved forth from a block of granite by a master sculptor. The form was almost too perfect. His angular face was similarly perfect, presenting a distinctly inhuman facade despite the human features and serene smile. For all that the smile was meant to be comforting, the eyes revealed power and an ever so slight hint of contained rage. His entire body seemed to fluctuate in and out of phase with the surrounding material, making his form even harder to look at. His clothing was spartan, little more than an embroidered vest and light martial trousers. He stood barefoot on the otherwise unforgiving floor, and did not seem to care.

When he spoke, his mouth did not move even a little, instead his entire body vibrated to produce the penetrating voice. The voice came forth slightly garbled, as if undercurrents of secondary transmissions were cutting through his voice. In reality, the voice was speaking in the native tongue of whoever listened to it, all others simply sounding like some form of background noise.

"Against our best interests, we have come. We are Cuchulainn, designated envoy to the Thrashian government for the purposes of this negotiation."

Claire stood and quickly grasped the hand of her old friend Ubuto Mandabi. "Hey Ubuto, I caught your speech when at the re-opening ceremony of the tach gates. Very presidential."

Ubuto let loose a deep chuckle, "Well I do try to put on a good show. It's about all the president is good for."

Claire hit him lightly on his arm, "Being the head of the state is not just putting on a good show. You're the face of the Confederacy, you sign all our resolutions into law."

Ubuto smiled, "True, but you still make all the important decisions. I just won the popularity contest."

Claire chuckled, "Pleasantries aside, I do have a job for you." She produced a plastisheet and handed it to Ubuto, "I need you to go to Beta Cluster and contact the Thrashian government at Vespasian Station. That document authorizes you to sign any treaty that's in the best interests of the Confederacy and lays out guidelines for what those are. You'll be taking Confederate One along with the SPS Uziel and SPS Seraphim. I'd send Navy ships instead of Star Patrol but I talked to Fleet Admiral Black and he says he can't get any off of deployment soon enough."

Ubuto nodded, "That's fine. My dad was Star Patrol, I like their attitude. When do I leave?"

"Immediately. Confederate One is already prepped to launch and on the pad along with a supply of clothing. It's a four hour flight to the gate and another eighteen to Vespasian once you're in Beta so you'll have plenty of time to read the briefing." Claire stood and escorted Ubuto to the door. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, "Good luck and be safe. I don't want to find a new President."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind Claire." Ubuto said as he stepped out the door.

22 Hours Later

The view through the cockpit redshifted back to normal as Confederate One dropped out of hyperspace, her two Star Patrol escorts right beside her. "Here we are sir, we have a few other ships on long range scans. A few Star Destroyer range vessels a few others that aren't as easy to get a definite reactor output on. We shouldn't have any problems running if we have to, Cee-One looks to be the fastest ship in the area."

Ubuto nodded, "Give them the standard greeting."

The pilot keyed the comm channels open, "To station Vespasian this is Confederate One. We're carrying the President of the Confederacy of Xessmithia here to represent our nation. Please respond on this channel."

"I apologize for my tardiness but the remote location of both my departure point and destination made it difficult to arrive as requested..."

Waiting was a Captain of the Imperial Fleet. He smiled at the aged master. "Do not bear it in mind, sirs. His Excellency made it clear that you would have some distance to come."

The captain turned and led a small honor guard around the new arrivals and brought them around to the main halls. After a short walk they entered the main conference hall where everyone else was waiting.

Treize looked up as they entered. "Our honored guests from the DMG have arrived I see. Welcome, truly."

"Against our best interests, we have come. We are Cuchulainn, designated envoy to the Thrashian government for the purposes of this negotiation."

The group of gathered delegates were rather shocked at the sudden appearance of this strange looking fellow who seemed to 'magically' appear in front of them. Treize however, after greeting the DMG, merely laughed and walked forward.

"Truly it is an honor to meet a representative of Godular. Your techno-sorcery is abound in legend."

"To station Vespasian this is Confederate One. We're carrying the President of the Confederacy of Xessmithia here to represent our nation. Please respond on this channel."

"Confederate One this is Vespasian Command. Welcome from the Empire of Thrashia. Docking bay five is open for you to enter. The meeting is set to start soon, a honor guard will escort you to the conference as quickly as possible."

ooc: just have your president walking into the room and taking his seat. No need to waste time over landing and that stuff, not too much anyway.

"We have clearance sir. Landing now" The pilot was quick to land and Ubuto wasted no time finding the honour guard and moving to the briefing room. He subconsciously checked his belt mounted shield generator, never could be too careful.

The doors opened to the meeting room and sat in the indicated seat, "Sorry I'm late. A five-hundred million light-year trip tends to do that."

Cuchulainn said nothing in response, showing nothing of his inner amusement at the term 'techno-sorcery'. Though it was understood that the Voidshield presented a continuous threat to the Imperials, both enemy and ally alike had fallen before the might of the devastating countermeasure. Add in the recent turn into these crystalline forms and constant research into the nature of the very fabric of reality itself, and it was understandable that Godulan antics would be tantamount to wizardry.

He turned towards an open seat and moved to sit down, yet at the last moment he spontaneously materialized in an empty seat on the opposite side of the room, looking for all the world as if he had gone to that seat from the beginning.

The Tannelornian dignitaries entered the meeting hall with little fanfare, bowing towards the guests, and the host Treize Kushrenada before sitting. Prefect Molotov dusted off his brilliant white tunic and slacks. He looked over at the Lord of the Divine Kingdom sitting down beside him, his armour clanking against the backing of the chair as he threw himself down heavily.

The Lord was a massive man, with brilliant blond hair and a drooping mustache that came down to his chin. He leaned back looking rather bored, diplomatic events weren't his favourite activities. The Prefect was rather young, with dark black hair. Many of the Prefects, the elected civilian government of the Prefecture inside the Cluster were young, barely seventy five years of age. It was they who had the drive necessary to defeat the aging bureaucrats in the elections, promising vigour and vitality, but most importantly change in the politics of the Prefecture.

Behind them stood Lord Kaz Lerondhim. His gray long tunic and wide legged pants were tucked in to his heavy metal greaves. The ubiquitous space armour could barely be seen underneath the uniform worn by all Grahfsberg Knights and most citizens. He was simply observing the proceedings, and had no reason to make a direct input. Still as far as anything to do with the treasonous Prefecture and the arrogant Divine Kingdom, the Grahfsbergins were very interested to know.

The Tannelornian delegation seated themselves, awaiting the meeting to commence.

As the Grey Master departed the docking bay, the unmistakably grey armored Clone Troopers changed the ceremonial position of their weapons from one shoulder to the other. As they came together to form to columns, their blasters leaned on their outside shoulders so as not to bother the comrade next to them. In a moment's time, the two columns had returned back into the guarded area of the shuttle's inner sanctum. The door, however, remained open in case of emergency evacuation...

Following the Honor Guard as they proceeded through the station's corridors, Master Zayne soon arrived in the conference hall where most of the other arrivals had already made themselves comfortable.

"Our honored guests from the DMG have arrived I see. Welcome, truly," Treize said.

"I thank you kindly, Emperor," the Grey said, his cloak dusting from one side to the other as he bowed to Treize and then to the room as per custom. Upon taking his seat - one of the few vacant ones - at the conference table, his old yet strong hands reached to the hood of his cloak and gently removed it to reveal his face. His hair was in the midst of changing from that of youth to that of age, leaving a speckled appearance of grey and gold; his forehead maintained a few wrinkles, but none that his age usually brought on; most interesting, however, was the weight his eyes carried...

As the representatives of all these mighty nations gathered in the station, hosted by the Emperor of Thrashia himself, another arrival appeared. A small and quick flash of blue light, which barely made a whisper on scanners, appeared and then vanished. Nothing seemed to have come out of the blue light, when something should have. But if the station or the ships had powerful enough sensors, they would see past the light-bending properties of the active camouflage and find an Imperial prowler. It's meager weaponry, some pulse lasers, and all HORNET mines had been removed.

Onboard this hidden craft was one of the most high ranking member of the Imperium of Terra's Office of Naval Intelligence or ONI, Rear Admiral Karaih. Having taken over upon Anne Trent's suicide during the Xeno War until a new replacement could be found, she had grimly done her task. Now, she had yet another, one which would change the galaxy forever. Once they had come within proper distance, she turned to her holopad, which shivered and a wolf appeared. "Fenrir, deactivate the camo and get me a channel to that station. Send identification codes, SHEWHOWATCHES, and THEEYETHATSEESALL."

"Yes ma'am." Space shimmered and twisted as the prowler came into view. At the same time it appeared, a channel opened with the station.

Station Control, this is Rear Admiral Karaih. Request permission to land.

Once the station had received the codes and identified the ship, and it's passenger, she landed and soon disembarked. She had no guard, to have brought one would have compromised the absolute secrecy of her mission. Making her way through the halls, she appeared in the doorway of the meeting room, as the door hissed open. She had medium length brown hair, and she wore her bright white Navy dress uniform, with the stars representing her rank as Rear Admiral. Numerous medals were pinned to her breast, showing her experience. One that caught attention was of a wolf, showing her status in ONI. Her bright blue eyes turned and met Emperor Treize's own. Bowing, she spoke.

"Greetings, Emperor. It is an honor to finally meet you."

Fuhrer Dreiden Listehoffen steped into the room, his Black Uniform, Resembleing that of the Reichleader SS of old earth, the medal's of hundreds of victories hanging on his chest, his cold eyes peered around the room, examining the inhabitants. Walking towards the table, he searched for his seat, finding the one marked Tigerlan and taking it. Peering to his left and right, wondering which nations these deligates reprisent.

"Would you Gentlement kindly state the nations you reprisent?"

President bastidas sat in a chair next that was occupied by Facilitator Regent Costello, a representative of the Aumanii Special Unit that Though, the way he was dressed, one would have taken him for a lower level diplomat of the Federal Union that had come with President Bastidas.

He looked around peering over to the new delegates that entered he stood up carrying an oddly blue glowing brief case with an extremely powerful magnetic field, he raised a hand and held it out to the delegates and said in a clam diplomatic voice.

"Welcome to the meeting my friends, its nice to see you again, we should get on with business, my name is president Robert bastidas of the federal union."
His body was smooth he was slightly toned, his hand was baring the load of an odd case.

Karaih glanced at the Tigerlan representative. "I am Rear Admiral Karaih from the Imperium of Terra." When the TFU president came in, she nodded to him as well. "Indeed, I am eager to begin this meeting. I was told to come here, not what it was about."

Cuchulainn said nothing, instead swerving his chair to one side and leaning against the table. He tapped a small glass tile, little more than an inch to a side, against the table. He appeared bored with the surroundings, though any who had more than a passing contact with the Godulans would know that they never showed any kind of expression unless they felt it necessary.

Treize smiled as he rose to his feet, bringing his hands up in a sign of silence. "Gentlemen and ladies, honored delegates from across the galaxy, my friends and allies...welcome.

"You may not be aware of the purpose behind this meaning, but yet you have trusted my message and come all the same. For that I thank you. Since the majority of us are gathered, it is best we started."

Treize clapped his hands and all the servants left. The center of the table turned in on itself and a black metallic projector appeared. The lights dimmed and a picture of the galactic strategic map appeared. Small symbols represented the location of each nation that was present at the meeting, with the exception of a few either because they were hidden in a general area or 'simply off the map.'

Most significant was the very detailed map of the Galactic Empire.

"As you all know, the siege of the planet and nation of Asfaltum by Imperial forces has been going on for some time, so much time that it is getting to be ridiculous. Our losses, within the Galactic Empire, has been horrendous against what is nothing more than a backwater world with little value to us here," pronounced Treize.

"Some of you are allies and friends of those who are even now raiding the system and fighting Imperial forces. Others of you have troops in the system. Either with this conflict or with those in the past, each has had his fill when it comes to the alter of sacrifice demanded upon us by the acts of a deranged Emperor. That Emperor of course, is Palpatine.

"The reason for this meeting, is in basic intent, for us GE nations, treason. The Fedral Union president and I," Treize nodded his head to Robert. "Had decided after several private talks that the Galactic Empire must be reformed and its leadership changed if we are to survive. And to change that, military action must be taken." Treize's eyes bored into the surrounding delegates.

"You have been called here on pretext of former alliances, ancient oaths, and a willingness to hear my voice and this offer," added Treize. "We, our aim, is to utterly destroy the foundations upon which the Sith have ruled the Galactic Empire for the last century. Unless we do so, then our nations face a slow and bloody death. Even you who think you are safe, forgotten, or hidden, are no longer able to be behind some veil, hidden.

"After speaking with Palpatine myself, I have come to understand that the lord Darth Vader shall become the next Emperor. And should that happen, none shall have peace."

"Now," said Treize. "I will allow President Robert Bastidas to speak, as he is the one marginally responsible for our coming together." Treize sat down and folded one leg over the other.

OOC: TFU invited me.

Reserved for a post tomorrow.

Robert stood up with a diplomatic smile on his face, he looked around the room quietly, peering in every ones eyes, he then stood back up in front of the map and started speaking.

"Good day ladies, gentlemen, robots and metahumans. What my comrade from Thrashia said is true, We are here to plot an insurrection against the controlling powers of unified sith, for to long he has controled our goverments our fleets to do what ever he pleases, calling us pawns, meat sheilds what have you, using the war master chronosia. who is not unified mind you and above any of his rule, to order our fleets in to combat for pointless wars that have no meaning." he coughed a bit the continued to speak "No more.. no more shall we be a party to this, who ever joins our side will ensure that we are freed, to ensure the Galactic empire lives on as a more powerful and more open alliance. cooperation, not segregation and masses of war for no reason will help the GE. even right now sith and his laickes are planning who to strike next , with vialed plans and secret meetings, most of us have not even met nations we're supposed to fight. I refuse with the utmost anger and unilateral decision in my mind to be lead by these bumbling warmongering fools. I ask you, I plead of you to please join us in this fight, for it is our only chance of Survival in these times, Unifed sith portrays him self as an unbeatable marter , but he is beatable he will be crushed with our joint operation and we will leader the GE in to a golden age of joint research, economic power and we will still maintain our military might, and fight when and if we have to against all enemies foreign and domestic." He paused again with a smile turning in to a serious look as he stared to speak again. "I hear by also ask you, to choose me as your chief executive officer representing all of your will during this fight, and if you wish to choose some one else so be it, I just ask that I may be allowed to be your leader in this time, and if you so choose during the reformation. thank you.." he ended it simply sitting down with a smile on his face putting his hands on the table and looking at the tactical map.

'Don't tread on me!' applauded Regent Costello to Bastidas' speech. Costello stood up confidently and spoke more to compliment the President.

'Why do we bow before an Emperor, a weak man representing a defunct religion from a bygone time? He is not in touch with this generation! Our people cry out, scream, for freedom! And yet our ears are unreceptive. Democracy is the only way, my friends. The only means of progress.' Costello, fist balled up tightly, went on to say.

'I love freedom, liberty and democracy. Without it we are nothing...and with out it, Iam not Ron Ashworth!' Regent Costello intentionally fibbed, but why not? His Federal Passport read Ron Ashworth, so as far as his credentials went...he was not a liar...

'The Emperor is a worthless old man. His words are meaningless. He leads your nations only to stagnation.' Costello sat down, apologizing over his shoulder to President Bastidas for his outburst.

Wild Space

Within the confines of the blackest, most remote speck of space that no man would willingly reside in, lay the brooding specters of a large fleet of Star Destroyers. The only sign that they were there at all were the lights upon their ships and hulls. They were the creme of Grand Admiral Thrawn's expansionist fleet, created by him, their crews hand picked, and their training commenced under his baleful gaze.

A comm officer received a transmission, short burst and coded. Within moments he had it sent to Intelligence and had it confirmed twice before he stood up out of his station seat and marched out of the crew pit. With measured steps he approached the officer who stood looking out into the emptiness of space, hands held behind his back. The young lieutenant clicked his heels together in salute and to gain the captain's attention.

"Sir, we've just intercepted a transmission from the Vespasian."

The captain turned. "Has it been confirmed?"

"Twice sir. Intelligence verified it. It's the Emperor's message, as expected."

"Very good lieutenant, return to your post and make ready a message of alert action to the fleet," ordered the captain, his clean shaven face tight with tension. The junior officer saluted and smartly turned away.

The captain turned around entirely to face the man seated in the ship's command chair. He was a tall and imperious man. His skin was almost luminescent in the light, his blue skin glowing. His half closed eyes, scrunched in concentration, bore a half moon of red light.

The captain marched up and saluted Grand Admiral Thrawn. "Sir, we've just received the Emperor's confirmation order. Intelligence has verified it. We've got the green light."

Thrawn nodded absently. "Very good Captain Vipus. Is my fleet ready?"

"They await your command," Vipus answered the traditional question.

"Then let's not await any longer. His Excellency asked us to make the first strike...to cut the head from the body, and so we shall. Make sure all tasks forces know their targets and their responsibilities. This is to be a series of hit and runs; not a campaign of mass destruction. We want out 'Imperial' victim to be hurt not dead," said Thrawn.

"As you say sir. I'll see the fleet begin immediately."

Within 20 minutes the entire fleet jumped into hyperspace. Their mission profile, unlike other main-stream Thrashian fleets, to be a spear head against a larger more dangerous foe.

Vespasian

Treize clapped his hands along with the rest of the delegates. He clicked on a switch and the lights returned to their normal power and the holographic display retracted until the table was once again a normal wooden conference table. Treize stood and smiled at Robert.

"Very good my friend," he said. He turned to everyone else. "And we all have many decisions to make now that we are thus committed...decisions that I must make."

On cue, the doors to the conference fell inward, blast apart. Armored and well armed 501st clonetroopers entered, blast rifles raised. Before them were black and red clothed Imperial Knights, their lightsabers drawn but not activated. Above them, in the walkways that had previously been full of servants, was now occupied by more troopers, their blasters aimed down at all of them.

From behind Treize, through now open sections of wall, came more troopers and a squad of Shinigami dressed in their black armor and white robes.

Treize tried to look apologetic, couldn't, so settled for a kind rueful grimace. "I am sorry to disturb you all like this," Treize said to the other delegats. "But I am afraid that you are all part in my web."

Treize turned to President Robert, who now had a series of troopers searching him and another with a blaster barrel pressed to his head. "I am sorry my friend. But this insurrection you plan will destroy the foundations of the Galactic Empire's power. It will breed civil war unending. That I cannot allow. I never could."

A fleet officer came into the room and saluted Treize. "Your excellency, a fleet of Star Destroyers have come out of hyperspace."

"Ah," smiled Treize. "Grand Admiral Thrawn has arrived on schedule." He turned back to Roberts. "You cannot escape my friend." Manacle cuffs were being put on his arms.

"All transmissions are being jammed, all frequincies. Any belongings you had were neutralized by the EMP field that was inside those doors," he pointed to the ruined entryway, "and as I speak your ship is being detained by a task force with a few Interdictors. You are hereby arrested for treason against the sovereign state and as a former ruler of a Galactic Empire fief you are to be taken to Coruscant to stand trial."

He turned to the clonetrooper officer. "Take him to the holding blocks. Knight Caffran and Lieutenant Marquis," Treize indicated one of the Imperial Knights and one of the Shinigami, " you are to stand guard along with the troopers. Thrawn will be taking him within a few hours."

"As you command," both said, and bowed.

Treize turned back to the delegates, each of which still had as many as four to five clonetroopers holding guns to them. "Now I know this is no way to end a meeting, but perhaps I can make a suggestion. Each of you joined this venture either because I asked you to or because the Fedral Union promised you something. I offer you a full pardon in these events and if some of you wish, as I know you dear sir of Azaha would like, a possible entry into the Galactic Empire. What say you?"

Outside the Station, a single ship faded into Real Space, easily bypassing the gravity based FTLi. The ship was a standard Explorer Class vessel, a kilometer in length.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v248/beldragos/Explorer3.jpg

The ship appeared a few kilometers away from the station and soon afterwards a single message was sent to the Thrashian Station

“Greetings, I have arrangements to arrive and send over a shuttle. May I finish my duties?”

The ship appeared a few kilometers away from the station and soon afterwards a single message was sent to the Thrashian Station

“Greetings, I have arrangements to arrive and send over a shuttle. May I finish my duties?”

After getting the OK from the station a single unarmed shuttle was sent over.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v248/beldragos/launchbay.jpg

The black shuttle took off from the launch bay and slowly approached the station. After getting landing clearance, the ship settled down without a bump. A single robed being left the shuttle with three large insectoid creatures. The black ebon guards were obviously made of metal from the sound their pointed legs made as they walked. The group approached the waiting guards.

“Take me to Treize. I am expected.”

After being led to where the Officer was, the figure and his entourage let the escort leave if they wished. Their business dealt with Treize, not them and their presence was no longer acknowledged.

“I have orders to pick up someone by the name of Rob. Here are my papers.”

A robe shrouded hand held out the papers for Treize to examine. The inhumane appearance of the appendage might have affected him but the stranger did not care. He was on carrier duty and that was all that mattered.

"Are there any others that wish to tag along?"




EDIT:

Thrashia, please post my leaving when you get the chance. I give you permission to do so.

Rear Admiral Karaih listened to the Federal President speak and was struck dumb. He suggested....defecting from the GE and all out war? He must be mad! Her nation did not have the strength to stand up to nations such as Chronosia. "What the hell? ONI never mentioned anything like this to me!" When he was done, she barely heard the Aumanii speech as she clenched her chair. She felt immense pressure, as she was now privy to secrets she did not want. She had a bad feeling it would cause trouble.

Then, as she knew it would, the hammer fell. Though, not in the way she expected. Stormtroopers burst in and she found a gun, several in fact, staring at her.

"Now I know this is no way to end a meeting, but perhaps I can make a suggestion. Each of you joined this venture either because I asked you to or because the Fedral Union promised you something. I offer you a full pardon in these events and if some of you wish, as I know you dear sir of Azaha would like, a possible entry into the Galactic Empire. What say you?"

She took a breath. She hated being invited here now. She had to do something she didnt want to do in order to avoid war. "I...I suppose I could agree to that. But let it be known, I had no idea of the purpose of this meeting until now."

Upon seeing the Balroggan and hearing his words, she stood up immediately, pushing back the guards. Fear and anger were in her voice. "If it is alright, I would like to come."

Not so far away

A small probe hovered in as-low-orbit-as-possible over Vespasian's local sun, lost from the sensors of the station and fleet. It was just outside range of the jamming, and could not be seen, anyway; ships whose sensors could not pick up a light freighter clinging to their own hull would not see a five-meter probe against the glare of a star.

It didn't matter. When its mission was complete, or if it was - by off chance - found and threatened, it would simply turn and dive into the corona.

Considerably further

A Menelmacari task force sat in deep space, ebon-crimson-golden hulls glimmering dimly in the blackness of the void. There wasn't even a single star inside three light years in any direction. In fact, the only notable fact about this location - aside from its sheer remoteness - was that it was directly along a course between a certain Point A, and a certain Point B.

Warlady Naurelin nos Fithurin, aboard dreadnought MIS Olórin, frowned, slumped poutily in her command chair. This entire operation was an... irritant to her. She was sure there was something better her and her ships could be off doing.

Like, say, surveying K-type stars with featureless rocks of planets. Or watching paint dry.

But orders were orders, and she would carry them out. The child-race they would be dealing with was competent in its use of its equipment... but one might as well take pointy sticks against the Menelmacari Imperial Defense Force. And it would be over inside a few seconds anyway. Ideally, the Olórin and her task force wouldn't even have to kill anybody.

"My Lady, the remote probe has responded that full area jamming in the vicinity of Vespasian Station has commenced."

Lady Naurelin nodded, sitting up a little and steepling her fingers. "Very well." That was her cue. And yet, it didn't even much matter. Her objective would come to her.

OOC: Yes, an ambush! But before you claim wank, Naurelin has no interest in blowing up any ships. Bear with me.

OOC: Okay we got big problems with this. So we need to get talking. OOC thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=12793916#post12793916)

OOC: Please move all OOC to the OOC thread.

Bad-dum bad-dum bad-dum bad-dum bad-dum bad-dum

His heart was racing. Although he barely shifted from his relaxed state in his seat, his heart seemed ready to explode.. and it just might, and it scared him.

Then more soldiers found their way into the room, from all directions. Dark knights and robed soldiers filled the halls and room.

Baddum Baddum Baddum Baddum Baddum Baddum Baddum Baddum Baddum

He forced himself to stay calm. He knew if his heart reached a certain rate... the whole room would cease to exist. There was no shooting, yet, and that is all that concerned him now.

It took him a moment for his congnative thought to return, and his hearing to refocus.

"-ha would like, a possible entry into the Galactic Empire. What say you?"

The statement suprised him at first. He was first invited it seemed to destroy an empire, then he was about to be shot, relieved, and finally offered a place within the alliance. Scratching his head for a quick moment, he cocked his head to the side. "Uh.. can we talk about this somewhere else? Guns and lasers don't sooth me as much as they might you..." He forced a quaint smile.

'Well I suppose at this point, no one would mind if I had a cigarette!' proclaimed the Aumanii spy, Regent Costello, as he stood up with a squelch of stressed metal. The chair rolled with such force as to impact the wall behind him. Several Storm Troopers reflexively aimed their rifles at Costello, he just grinned and reached into his coat pocket. He could hear the whine and smell the ozone of the rifles power packs. The intense glares of the Troopers as they prepared to kill him. Time seemed to slow as Costello slid his hand out from the folds of his jacket, revealing a crumpled pack of Midlonian cigarettes that he opened. Lighting the smoke between pursed lips, he inhaled coolly.

The Troopers relaxed. Costello sighed with delight.

'You have no idea how long it's been since my last cigarette, Mr. Kushrenada.' Costello breathed out through his nose and rolled the cigarette around his thumb and forefinger.

'Do you like to smoke? Ah, who am I kidding. You High Imperial types don't do anything of the sort, am I right? But just think of it. If you did smoke, if you truly enjoyed the experience, what would you do for it? Personally, and this sounds a little bit harsh, I'd kill for my right to an expensive, imported, cigarette such as this.'

The Troopers tensed once more.

'Democracy marches ever forward, Mr. Kushrenada. You can't stop it. You can never stop Freedom. And while today it seems you may have made an impact in this movement, you must know that deep down inside that you can never stop it. And what ever cowards you may convince otherwise, what ever weak willed simpletons you can coerce into bowing to you...just remember, tyranny shall never prosper.' Costello...or Ron Ashworth as he was known to everyone assembled...put his cigarette out on Kushrenada's table and prepared to be arrested with "his" President.

He knew that if he was taken he was at the very least going to do hard labour in an Imperial Prison Camp. He also knew that if he broke his cover, Ladelle would cut his head off. Slowly. He was safer off with Bastidas.

Ubuto's heart jumped into his throat when the troops barged in. He quickly calmed himself and listened patiently to Treize's speech. It was of course an absurd proposition to make to the Confederacy, it had refused the Empire many times in the past if the historical records were to be believed.

Whether the history was true or not, Ubuto knew that the Confederacy would have nothing to do with any entity that acted as the Empire did. He tried to activate his neural implants, success. It would appear as though Thrashian scientists had forgotten about how Faraday cages nullify electro-magnetic effects. He checked the status of his shield generator through his implants to avoid detection, it was on too.

He ran through his options, he could try to escape, too many soldiers in the station he would be killed before he could make it to Confederate One even if the door was still accessible. His shield generator had a short range emergency comm beacon, too much jamming. He closed his eyes as a few of the other delegates made their responses.

It came to him. He could dump all of the shield generator energy into the comm beacon, that would burn through the jamming with sheer power. It would reach Confederate One and the computer there would automatically re-transmit to the Uziel and Seraphim. Of course doing that would overload the generator and cause it to explode, it would kill him if no one else in the room.

Ubuto sighed, he would do it, for the greater good of the Confederacy. He activated his implants and the changes were made. No sense saying anything to these people, I'm sorry Claire. He activated the beacon and the world turned white.

***

The Confederate One computer picked up a faint transmission on the emergency channel. It was the abort signal. A micro-second later the computer had diverted all of the Confederate One's power to the comm relay, activated the abort alarm for the crew and sent an overwhelmingly powerful transmission to the two Star Patrol cruisers waiting.

The pilot of Confederate One was shocked ramrod straight when the abort alarm sounded. He put aside his grief for the president, if the abort signal was sent he was dead. He read weapon systems coming online, and the hangar being sealed. He looked at his co-pilot and he nodded back.

They slammed the shields to full power and extension and jammed the throttle in full reverse. Confederate One slammed into the sealed hangar exit. The shields interacted violently with the seal and Confederate One blasted through the hangar. Failure alarms filled the cockpit, shields down, engines down, reactor down, artificial gravity down. The pilot cursed as he floated in his seat. He struggled to get the damage control mechanisms online, another alarm went off, the FTL capacitors. The pilot's face paled, "Oh fuck." The capacitors shorted and Confederate One disappeared in a boil of light.

'Holy shit!' exclaimed an exasperated Costello. 'Bastidas had more lives than Castro...' he said, looking at the crumpled body of the Federal President on the floor.

Few had seen Lord Karalim undo the strap on his scabbard. Everyone would have seen him rush to his feet the moment the Godulan had attacked the President. He pointed the blade at the Godulan ambassador and with a snarl on his leaps swore a curse at him and lunged, striking with a heavy, overhand blow at the Ambassador.

Prefect Molotov motioned one of his aides to his side, he whispered to the girl and bade her leave the chamber. The Prefect stood. "Godulan, dare you slay a criminal before his trial? As guilty as that man was his death should have been only after a court of law had issued its most just sentence." he stepped a little further back, hoping to avoid the bloodshed about to ensue.

The Lord from the Grahfsberg simply stood back and smiled, watching the spectacle. Inwardly he was rather disgusted with the subterfuge used to catch the traitor, though Bastidas was still indeed one.

He would give his report to Grand Duke Yannef, but until then he simply waited.

Grash simply laid back in his chair, and looked around the room. Fact was, he was scared to death. With loud explosions eminating from down the corridor, people dying right and left, how could any sane man not be scared. He only took solace in the fact that if he himself was frightened enough, his heart rate would rise, and finally, the finale. A bloody charred crater of where he used to be, the fate was the same with anyone near him, and half the fate to the rest of the people in the room... literally.

"How about we all just calm down, huh? We are still all in the grasp of the Thrashian empire.. in their station... so stop the killing, and we can all go home happy.. retrieve our little war fleets, then you can all duke it out that way? Ok?"

'Can't disagree with that.' said Costello calmly, about the Godulan's logic. Explosions and gruesome executions aside, the alleged low level diplomat seemed all to used to this sort of environment. This behaviour drew a suspicious stare from The Lord of the Grahfsberg, which was returned slyly by Costello as he removed another cigarette from the pack.

The Tannelornian had already put the pieces together. The Jet black hair, the cold logical thought, the tall, lean, muscular build of Costello...all signs of strong Aumanii breeding and influence. Costello saw that the rough man of the South recognize him and looked knowingly into his eyes. Don't say anything! he thought hard to himself, hoping the mountainous freak in front of him could read his mind.

Lord Karalim sneered at Chuculainn. "It seems none of us are dead yet, except poor old Robert Bastidas." He glanced down at the gory scene before him. "As for what we intend to do, if it were up to me, we would send you, oh wicked spirit back in to the abyss from whence you came. However, we are all guests of the Thrashian Emperor, and I believe it is his priviledge to decide that."

He bent down, taking his eyes off the Godulan, a sign of disrespect, and retrieved his sword. The rest of the delegation remained silent. Lord Kar didn't return the looks from Regent Costello. Kar started to consider options, especially if things started to turn sour with the Godulan and other ambassadors.

Prefect Molotov simply sat back down in his chair and continued his drink. He was positively beaming, the information his aide would send back would finally allow the Prefecture to realise a plan that had been in existence since the first discovery of the Cluster.


++++

2/850 walked calmly down the hall, she could hear the onrushing throngs of stormtroopers, the sound of their boots reverberating down the halls and walkways. She carefully moved in to a corner and attempted to reach the Aethernet. She was just far enough from the room to make contact, albeit at an incredibly slow transfer speed. Quickly she messaged several message posts along the net, each one owned and constantly monitored by important members of the Prefects council.

The message was simple. Robert Bastidas is dead, The Fedral Union was plotting treason against the Emperor, this was the reason for the meeting. She then sat and listened to the klaxons wail.

Sorry for the inconvenience, this thread continues here:

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=530832

The OOC thread is here:

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=530656