Tropicopa
23-07-2007, 20:25
Another beautiful day was well under way in Tropicopa City, with the glorious yellow sun bathing the fledgling metropolis in a warming, energetic light as it approached its midday perch. Sometimes the consistently brilliant weather almost became boring, with some people wishing for the day when they'd need to dig out a fur coat and wade to work through a layer of chilling cold. Forty degrees celcius was expected as the norm, with the magnificently deep blue skies only being obscured a few times a year with torrential rainy seasons. The regular rain helped keep the area green and fertile, though, only adding to its spectacular vistas.
Tropicopa City itself had a population of less than five million, yet the cluster of half a dozen curvaceous, silver skyscrapers at the centre gave it a much grander appearance than it deserved. Everything was clean and modern, with no polluting vehicles or smoke stacks marring the idyllic urban sprawl. Surrounding the cluster of glistening spires were smaller, five to ten story buildings, all modern and sophisticated, and numerous commercial and clean industrial complexes breaking them up. Much of the populous resided outside of the city proper, in suburb-like communities surrounding the inner layer which were smaller, but no less clean and modern than the centre itself.
The city itself was located on the coastline of a tropical region of the fertile planet known as Tropicopa, sandwiched between dense semi-tropical forests and the stupendous golden sands of the beaches. Roughly a kilometre east of the city limits, a small spaceport had been built in an artificial clearing. There were few reasons for anybody in this small country to go into space, and for that reason the port served commercial, personal and military interests at the same time. Whether it was a fresh supply of officers for the two Hammerhead-class capital cruisers in perpetual orbit in the skies above, a businessman on a trip to the mining facility on the moon or the broadcasting station in orbit, or tourists headed out on an interplanetary cruise, this small and rarely used port would always be their first port of call.
As well as the port, small agricultural settlements, villages and mines existed outside of the city, as well as any polluting facilities that were unwanted on backyards. These served the primary and secondary tier industries of the Tropicopan Republic, and regular shipments to and from the various rural areas were run across the main maglev lines that formed their lifelines.
As usual, everybody in all walks of life went about their business. The second rain season of the year had passed, and everything was in bloom and spirits were high.
It was today, on this seemingly ordinary day, that President Jarr Markin wandered through the quiet streets of the City Centre, on his way to the Capitol Tower, to sign the most unusual bill that had ever been passed during his term. He greeted several members of the public on his brisk walk through the attractive city centre, crossing as he did the paved garden areas that symbolised the exact centre of their modest settlement. Crime was low, morale was routinely high, and assassination attempts were unheard of, so bodyguards kept out of sight most of the time and left the President to go about his business unperturbed. A sign of the liberal attitude towards life that the general populous mimicked almost universally.
He pulled straight his white and pale red suit, elegantly crafted from the finest fibres in production, and stepped through the automated glass doors into the Capitol Tower lobby - a grotesquely contemporary design made up of pale woods and dull silver metal, with a three storey high ceiling. Two glass elevators could be seen at the far end, with the large banner of Tropicopa - the old Galactic Republic symbol, redressed in green - dangling on the white wall between them.
Markin nodded towards the receptionist, one of the few Twi'leks he personally knew of living on this human-dominated world, as he passed by the curved reception desk. He carried a card that was automatically scanned upon entering the building (along with a detailed biological scan for added insurance), though it was hardly necessary for the President to prove his identity. The receptionist gave him a brief smile, though she was inundated with comms at that particular minute at could spare no longer.
Markin stepped into one of the glass elevators and selected his destination, noticing his two bodyguards just now walking into the lobby and moving towards the drinks machines promptly. He hardly needed their protection here, in a building with forcefields, discretely hidden automated blaster turrets and numerous security personnel watching over everything with surveillance droids.
The elevator took him swiftly up the tower, coming to a halt and depositing him in a corridor that lead directly to his office. As he stepped into his mahogany-coloured office, with a magnificent panoramic window overlooking the city, he immediately heard his comms unit bleeping. Such was the life of a head of state - leave your office for more than a minute and your answering machine is full to the brim.
He had not sat down for more than a few minutes when two members of his government burst into the room unannounced - though expected. One, a woman in her late thirties, was Mila Theru, who had only recently been appointed to the newly-created position of Secretary of State. The other was a gruff-looking man in his late fifties, Marsh Adarn, the Secretary of Defence. Both began talking at the same time, paused briefly to exchange frustrated glances, and then both talked again before falling silent.
"I know what you both are going to say," Markin said after a short period of silence. "But it's official now, Congress has voted. Mila, when are we going to make the broadcast?"
"Everything's ready," Theru said confidently. "You can go ahead with the broadcast at any time."
He nodded to her and then turned to Adarn. "Marsh - what are you doing here?" Markin asked him abruptly, finishing with a bewildered shrug.
"You're the President for crying out loud," Adarn said, rather directly. "You can overturn this if you want to!"
"I don't want to," Markin said with a note of finality. "The Senate has already voted. It would be undemocratic to overturn it. And why did our ancestors come to this planet again...?"
"To escape corruption, crime, poverty and war," Adarn said, emphasising the 'war' part. "That is all that happens in the outside universe, you know. War."
"Don't be so xenophobic, Marsh," Markin said with a tut, looking past him as another person entered the room. There was no formal suit on this figure, only a brown robe and assorted vestments, all crafted from coarse fabrics that provided a significant contrast to Markin's own suit.
"Secretary Adarn is right to be cautious, Mister President," the figure said, pulling his hood down as he entered the office as a mark of respect. "The Council is unanimous; darkness is still rife."
"Master Durmas, nice to see you again," Markin regarded the Jedi Master with a brief head bow. "You know I value your counsel, but the Jedi Order is a religious institution as defined by legislation, and you know that the Council has no say over government affairs."
"I come not bearing demands, but only advice," Durmas said.
"Master Durmas, Marsh; I recognise your concerns, I really do," Markin said. "But Congress has spoken, and opinion polls support their decision. We shall take all possible precautions, but we're going ahead with this. The only way Tropicopa is going to grow and develop any further than it already has is to look to the skies once again. Now, Mila, it's time to make that broadcast."
"Don't forget the recording you need to complete as well," Theru reminded him.
Half an hour later, a broadcast was made to the city and the surrounding areas. It opened with the President, sitting in his office at his desk with the view of the city behind him.
"My fellow Tropicopans," he began. "As I am sure newsnets have already reported, Congress has passed an act to begin making contact with the universe at large, with a view to beginning trade and peaceful relations. Today I gave that act presidential approval, and it will not be long before the first stage commences.
"Many of you will feel apprehension at the thought of exposing ourselves to outside contact, and we share your concerns. We have thoroughly considered all of these concerns, and developed contingencies to deal with them should they become real problems. That is why I want to reassure everybody that every precaution will be taken to ensure the safety of Tropicopa.
"Crime is down, quality of life is up, our public services are running smoothly and the weather is fine as usual. Let us share the successes that our ancestors so dutifully provided us with- and benefit at the same time."
Three weeks later, one of the Hammerhead-class capital cruisers broke from standard orbit for the first time in centuries, effortlessly moving to the edge of the solar system. It began launching small probes from its bow, each one four metres by half a metre in size. The small probes were guided by simple artificial intelligence software and contained holographic recordings that only somebody with a degree of technical skill could activate. The probes were designed to randomly appear from hyperspace, transmit their exact coordinates along with standard peaceful greetings, and then disappear into hyperspace again after two days if they were not manually deactivated. Why they were doing this was simple; to be captured, by anybody with a curious enough mind.
The holographic messages were contained on single-use datachips, incorporated into portable emitters to save the trouble of activating the information on an alien computer. They featured President Markin, standing upright, delivering the following speech:
I am President Jarr Markin, representing the people and government of the United Republic of Tropicopa. Our small but proud nation was formed many centuries ago, by a group of people dissatisfied with the state of the Galactic Republic and who wished to start anew, and has flourished ever since in its isolation.
However, we are ready now to establish ties with the universe at large. If we are to grow further, we will need to trade, we will need to establish peaceful dialogue, and basically acknowledge that there is a universe out there that we have ignored for a long time. Which is where you come in.
If you would like to send a representative of your nation to visit us, simply send your diplomatic party to the hyperspace coordinates displayed at the end of this message.
Thank you, and I look forward to hearing from you.
(OOC: Hey. I tried this a few months ago but it died, as due to personal reasons I was unable to continue it. I figured I'd start again, instead of resurrecting the old thread; different premise slightly but otherwise the same. Thanks!)
Tropicopa City itself had a population of less than five million, yet the cluster of half a dozen curvaceous, silver skyscrapers at the centre gave it a much grander appearance than it deserved. Everything was clean and modern, with no polluting vehicles or smoke stacks marring the idyllic urban sprawl. Surrounding the cluster of glistening spires were smaller, five to ten story buildings, all modern and sophisticated, and numerous commercial and clean industrial complexes breaking them up. Much of the populous resided outside of the city proper, in suburb-like communities surrounding the inner layer which were smaller, but no less clean and modern than the centre itself.
The city itself was located on the coastline of a tropical region of the fertile planet known as Tropicopa, sandwiched between dense semi-tropical forests and the stupendous golden sands of the beaches. Roughly a kilometre east of the city limits, a small spaceport had been built in an artificial clearing. There were few reasons for anybody in this small country to go into space, and for that reason the port served commercial, personal and military interests at the same time. Whether it was a fresh supply of officers for the two Hammerhead-class capital cruisers in perpetual orbit in the skies above, a businessman on a trip to the mining facility on the moon or the broadcasting station in orbit, or tourists headed out on an interplanetary cruise, this small and rarely used port would always be their first port of call.
As well as the port, small agricultural settlements, villages and mines existed outside of the city, as well as any polluting facilities that were unwanted on backyards. These served the primary and secondary tier industries of the Tropicopan Republic, and regular shipments to and from the various rural areas were run across the main maglev lines that formed their lifelines.
As usual, everybody in all walks of life went about their business. The second rain season of the year had passed, and everything was in bloom and spirits were high.
It was today, on this seemingly ordinary day, that President Jarr Markin wandered through the quiet streets of the City Centre, on his way to the Capitol Tower, to sign the most unusual bill that had ever been passed during his term. He greeted several members of the public on his brisk walk through the attractive city centre, crossing as he did the paved garden areas that symbolised the exact centre of their modest settlement. Crime was low, morale was routinely high, and assassination attempts were unheard of, so bodyguards kept out of sight most of the time and left the President to go about his business unperturbed. A sign of the liberal attitude towards life that the general populous mimicked almost universally.
He pulled straight his white and pale red suit, elegantly crafted from the finest fibres in production, and stepped through the automated glass doors into the Capitol Tower lobby - a grotesquely contemporary design made up of pale woods and dull silver metal, with a three storey high ceiling. Two glass elevators could be seen at the far end, with the large banner of Tropicopa - the old Galactic Republic symbol, redressed in green - dangling on the white wall between them.
Markin nodded towards the receptionist, one of the few Twi'leks he personally knew of living on this human-dominated world, as he passed by the curved reception desk. He carried a card that was automatically scanned upon entering the building (along with a detailed biological scan for added insurance), though it was hardly necessary for the President to prove his identity. The receptionist gave him a brief smile, though she was inundated with comms at that particular minute at could spare no longer.
Markin stepped into one of the glass elevators and selected his destination, noticing his two bodyguards just now walking into the lobby and moving towards the drinks machines promptly. He hardly needed their protection here, in a building with forcefields, discretely hidden automated blaster turrets and numerous security personnel watching over everything with surveillance droids.
The elevator took him swiftly up the tower, coming to a halt and depositing him in a corridor that lead directly to his office. As he stepped into his mahogany-coloured office, with a magnificent panoramic window overlooking the city, he immediately heard his comms unit bleeping. Such was the life of a head of state - leave your office for more than a minute and your answering machine is full to the brim.
He had not sat down for more than a few minutes when two members of his government burst into the room unannounced - though expected. One, a woman in her late thirties, was Mila Theru, who had only recently been appointed to the newly-created position of Secretary of State. The other was a gruff-looking man in his late fifties, Marsh Adarn, the Secretary of Defence. Both began talking at the same time, paused briefly to exchange frustrated glances, and then both talked again before falling silent.
"I know what you both are going to say," Markin said after a short period of silence. "But it's official now, Congress has voted. Mila, when are we going to make the broadcast?"
"Everything's ready," Theru said confidently. "You can go ahead with the broadcast at any time."
He nodded to her and then turned to Adarn. "Marsh - what are you doing here?" Markin asked him abruptly, finishing with a bewildered shrug.
"You're the President for crying out loud," Adarn said, rather directly. "You can overturn this if you want to!"
"I don't want to," Markin said with a note of finality. "The Senate has already voted. It would be undemocratic to overturn it. And why did our ancestors come to this planet again...?"
"To escape corruption, crime, poverty and war," Adarn said, emphasising the 'war' part. "That is all that happens in the outside universe, you know. War."
"Don't be so xenophobic, Marsh," Markin said with a tut, looking past him as another person entered the room. There was no formal suit on this figure, only a brown robe and assorted vestments, all crafted from coarse fabrics that provided a significant contrast to Markin's own suit.
"Secretary Adarn is right to be cautious, Mister President," the figure said, pulling his hood down as he entered the office as a mark of respect. "The Council is unanimous; darkness is still rife."
"Master Durmas, nice to see you again," Markin regarded the Jedi Master with a brief head bow. "You know I value your counsel, but the Jedi Order is a religious institution as defined by legislation, and you know that the Council has no say over government affairs."
"I come not bearing demands, but only advice," Durmas said.
"Master Durmas, Marsh; I recognise your concerns, I really do," Markin said. "But Congress has spoken, and opinion polls support their decision. We shall take all possible precautions, but we're going ahead with this. The only way Tropicopa is going to grow and develop any further than it already has is to look to the skies once again. Now, Mila, it's time to make that broadcast."
"Don't forget the recording you need to complete as well," Theru reminded him.
Half an hour later, a broadcast was made to the city and the surrounding areas. It opened with the President, sitting in his office at his desk with the view of the city behind him.
"My fellow Tropicopans," he began. "As I am sure newsnets have already reported, Congress has passed an act to begin making contact with the universe at large, with a view to beginning trade and peaceful relations. Today I gave that act presidential approval, and it will not be long before the first stage commences.
"Many of you will feel apprehension at the thought of exposing ourselves to outside contact, and we share your concerns. We have thoroughly considered all of these concerns, and developed contingencies to deal with them should they become real problems. That is why I want to reassure everybody that every precaution will be taken to ensure the safety of Tropicopa.
"Crime is down, quality of life is up, our public services are running smoothly and the weather is fine as usual. Let us share the successes that our ancestors so dutifully provided us with- and benefit at the same time."
Three weeks later, one of the Hammerhead-class capital cruisers broke from standard orbit for the first time in centuries, effortlessly moving to the edge of the solar system. It began launching small probes from its bow, each one four metres by half a metre in size. The small probes were guided by simple artificial intelligence software and contained holographic recordings that only somebody with a degree of technical skill could activate. The probes were designed to randomly appear from hyperspace, transmit their exact coordinates along with standard peaceful greetings, and then disappear into hyperspace again after two days if they were not manually deactivated. Why they were doing this was simple; to be captured, by anybody with a curious enough mind.
The holographic messages were contained on single-use datachips, incorporated into portable emitters to save the trouble of activating the information on an alien computer. They featured President Markin, standing upright, delivering the following speech:
I am President Jarr Markin, representing the people and government of the United Republic of Tropicopa. Our small but proud nation was formed many centuries ago, by a group of people dissatisfied with the state of the Galactic Republic and who wished to start anew, and has flourished ever since in its isolation.
However, we are ready now to establish ties with the universe at large. If we are to grow further, we will need to trade, we will need to establish peaceful dialogue, and basically acknowledge that there is a universe out there that we have ignored for a long time. Which is where you come in.
If you would like to send a representative of your nation to visit us, simply send your diplomatic party to the hyperspace coordinates displayed at the end of this message.
Thank you, and I look forward to hearing from you.
(OOC: Hey. I tried this a few months ago but it died, as due to personal reasons I was unable to continue it. I figured I'd start again, instead of resurrecting the old thread; different premise slightly but otherwise the same. Thanks!)