NationStates Jolt Archive

In the middle of Space, a nebula; in the nebula, 5 stars.

One star having no planets, a stark white pulsar, spewing out intense radiation in rhythmic waves;elsewhere, but in the same cloud, twin blue stars wrapped in a maze of galactic rubble.

A fourth star, near the edge, glowing deep orange with 3 planets, and a final fifth star, this one with seven planets and a large artificial ring planet ringed around its 3rd terrestrial planet.

Dessarr.

Its people, not too different from humans; 2 arms and legs, with a head, and about the same size and equivalent biologies.

Originally human, the would-be colonists were actually a Star Navy detachment of 3 battleships, one light starfighter carrier, and a frigate, who were very lost and out of fuel. Seeing no other choice other than reluctant colonization, the genetically engineered themselves to survive in the light of a UV-blue sun, and recycled the starships for materials.

The new race, locking away the blueprints of the technology that constructed the Starships, survived on the ringworld around the planet, and as time marched on, thrived to a trillion members and developed into modern nations, but politics would blend into cold wars for may decades, and civil war on an epic scale was inevitable.

One young man saw the signs and convinced whomever he could to hide away in the Orbital's superstructure, and while they were surviving in the immense catacombs, the nations above dissolved into anarchy when Bio-weapons were released. Factions and infrastructures crumbled as the death toll skyrocketed. Years later, the young man, now older, and with an army to back him, took power and wrought peace and civility onto the ringworld, in a series of campaigns called the Unification Wars

Following the chaos, the various leftovers of the populace were unified into one government, and there emerged an Emporer: Tenhauzzer Kreel.

With his rise to power came a foundational government to help him in governing his will to the Dessarri people, as well as advancements in technology that allowed for space travel; the Pulse-gravity Jump-Drive.

Who knows what they would find, only time would tell.....

OOC: Putting a ringworld around a planet does not make sense. Generally ringworlds are around stars so they can absorb the solar energy from the stars. The other option is the "Culture Habitat", sometimes called a "Halo". This is a freespace object, meaning it can move around.
http://content.answers.com/main/content/wp/en-commons/thumb/d/da/300px-Orbitale.jpg

OOC: Since when did sense ever intrude into NS FT! Shoo! Leave the guy to his Rp, it is to each his own after all. Now, I won't have this turning into a debate over the proper use of Ringworlds (And comparing Halo and the Culture, in anything but the vaguest terms hurts people who like Banks :P). If you really want to labour the point, take it to Bal's argument thread.

Tagged for involvement.

Capricious fate governs the turning of the worlds within the void. It encompasses the burning orbs of suns, the vasty dark of space and the spheres upon which living things dwell. Sometimes fate is a kind mistress, guiding us almost inevitably to some sense of victory or triumph, other times it is a fickle beast, raining down madness and atrocity. When the Chronosians take to the stars, riding the Immaterium as though it were the currents of fate itself, it can never be said which fate shall come to pass.

The very fabric of existence seemed to buckle and twist beneath the ministrations of the Chronosian vessels warp-drives, splitting the essence of space as it laboured to bring the archaic vessel through the currents of the Warp and back into the material realm.

Upon its bridge, Tech-Priests long since twisted into other and more aberrant forms laboured over consoles and servitor constructs. Officers stepped through the pulsing gloom to examine tactical displays, while the Captain stood, hands folded behind his back, his black uniform aglow in the light of the displays before him, delicately churning out strategic information on the system that they had entered.

"Well, what have we here?" He chuckled lightly, his eyes drifting over the readouts of various worlds, including one that seemed so very odd, and so very promising...

OOC: Putting a ringworld around a planet does not make sense. Generally ringworlds are around stars so they can absorb the solar energy from the stars. The other option is the "Culture Habitat", sometimes called a "Halo". This is a freespace object, meaning it can move around.
http://content.answers.com/main/content/wp/en-commons/thumb/d/da/300px-Orbitale.jpg
OOC i would like to point this out to you
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ringworld
and all so say there is more then one kind of Megastructure out there

A small ship entered in system, about 30 meters long, it was cloaked with metamaterials and a shadowskin (optical and scanner camouflage) designed to make it invisible to most scanners except at extremely close ranges. If you saw it, it would look like a piece of clear glass which cast no shadow.

Earlier what looked like a large rock or asteroid had entered the system, a von neumann probe, a scanning device built inside a big rock. It had picked up unusual pictures.

Neem Ralk mumbled to himself and sniffed, he thought, "Why do they always have to send me into these strange places." He pulled at his gold earring.

Then he switched to the passive scanner view. This was unusual. The scanner fed images of the megastructure ring around a world into the quantum tunneling ansible.

OOC: Just trying to get a picture of the ring.

In differential time, the world changes. One step leads to the next, to the next, to the next; the now is the synergistic over-sum of everything that led into the past. Lots of things change in the space between the reflex to blink an eye and the actual twitch of musculature that completes the blink. Where exactly a ship of the Galaxy Exploration Command happens to be is one of them.

Now it's not there, now it (http://dagobah.tchmachines.com/~tpjzdd/gallery/Starships/endeavour_10clock?full=1) is. Should anyone care to watch in Planck time, it could be seen to arrive from infinity at an extremely unlikely speed--approximately infinity and decelerating--from any angle one could possibly view it from. Other technologies are a bit more brutal with how they contort spacetime; this one just jars the senses as it finds what makes two spatial points far removed in three dimensions practically conjoined twins in, say, twelve dimensions and skips across that particular line. Okay, so it's not instantaneous, but it's good enough for government work.

"Jump procedure complete. StatInd updating now," reports the very tall and very dark man sitting at an adjustable console which looks like it could suit something a bit taller than him. Lieutenant Cumulus Arroyo, graduate of astrophysics at the Yut University of Technology, a man never quite content with how his name translates from his native language into English, who tends to fill in the 'gender' box on applications with 'Other' simply because he can, and who certainly didn't enjoy his two-year stint in the more spit-and-polish Combined Services, is a Seldane from Imnsvale. Normally Seldane are bright blue, but he happens to be so dark as to almost be black as tar due to having grown up around a colony with an overly energetic star--melanin shots were mandatory. "Yes, it seems long-range inferometry was correct, sir. Definitely an artificial construct around that habitable planet there. Energy signatures on par with a late Class I civilization. Multiple contacts..."

They say the Universe is a big place, ponders Lieutenant Commander Kage Tristian, what one could describe as an all-Scolopendran mutt. His name follows the Japanese tradition of his father, who may be somewhere along the order of maybe a quarter Japanese. Maybe. His mother was a good Irish girl, if by "Irish" one means "generic northwestern European with some Basque, Moroccan, Russian, and Polynesian thrown in for flavor." Needless to say, a stereotype for Tristian's particular genetic makeup hasn't been invented yet, despite the Federated Segment's penchant for snappy slurs for practically any social group imaginable. Apparently it's just not big enough. The GEC archives were filled with 'shared first contacts,' where the GEC would hop in only to see people practically lining up to explore the exact same place. Okay, compared to the early years where they were pining for the chance to meet someone new, it's a bumper harvest, but it can still become troublesome. It's a small world after all, it's a small world aft-er all...

"Oops," Arroyo grumbles as a portion of the three-dimensional display in the front of the small command cabin blips out of existence. "Pee-Ess-Ess active."

"Well, that's never good." Kage frowns with lips thinned by bits of chromosomes only recently reunited from all the various microevolutionary branches of the human species. If one were to glance at him, one would call him almost porcelain pale, except he has the slightest tint of yellow to him, almost the color of slightly aged paper. If that weren't enough to throw people off, he has a spattering of freckles to boot. "So, where's the source of peril, and should we get on the horn to HELLSING?"

"No, no, just a minute." Cumulus deftly taps out a few commands on the keyboard in front of him, and that particular portion of the strategic indicator display comes back to life, indicating a yellow icon. "You know those, uhm, Chaos guys what appeared over Mars awhile back and the... whatstheirbuckets... Dawn Paragons started twitching over, then they sorta went away?"

"No, not really."

"I think the Services put out a circular. Anyway, looks like, well, one of those Chronosian ships."

"Oh. Them. The rational blood-cultist whatevers." Kage grins, but with his lips shut. It's a 'Pendran thing. "I tell you what, headware's a wonderful thing."

"Yes. Anyway, them, more signatures that the ship figures has a high probability of having to do with that ringworld around that planet, going by comparative signals analysis."

"Why is it that São Gabriel only ever talks to you?" Kage frowns. "She never talks to me."

"It may have something to do with that unfortunate accident the ship's avatar had a few jumps back. Something about, oh, I dunno, the explosion."

"How was I supposed to know that the Empions' form of communication would resonate with her hardware? Besides, the main core came out just fine--"

"Because it was well-shielded--"

"--and it took us forever to piece the public address system back together. Okay, I can understand being somewhat miffed that the avatar she spent her fabber budget has redecorated the port signals lab in carbon colors, but she could at least talk through those."

"It's scared to, sir. It's insisting on text only, and only to me."

"Why you?"

"Because she trusts my judgment. I said it might not have been a good idea, and if you'd have let me finish, we wouldn't have to be scraping what's left of a mechanoid Brazilian--"

"Portuguese--"

"--Portuguese woman off the consoles back there. By the way, Spaceman Jones says he's tried the toothbrush and is down to the melted plastic."

"I know, I told him to use a putty knife or something. Show some initiative. Anyway, what else is there?"

"Oh. Right. Some planets, some more planets, stars, you know how it goes. You could look at your console and see the skinny, sir," Arroyo waxes wryly. "And there seems to be a very small mass anomaly at... lessee... bearing three-twelve inclination seven self-relative, range about five trillion klicks. It'll take a few to get a heading off of it, but it doesn't seem to be going particularly fast."

"Mass anomaly. Right." Kage scoffs. "Never seen those before."

"Technically, we've never 'seen' them at all, sir."

"Pedant. Anyway, take us towards that ring, Mister Klikkit, at your discretion."

Klikkit (actual name unpronouncable without three different varieties of bird calls and castanets), previous to now simply listening idly to the banter beside him, nods 'his' pseudo-insectoid head and slides some keys using manipulators that extend seemingly awkwardly from the 'wrists' of 'his' scythelike 'hands.' The Gurlanai--to oversimplify, once xenophobic oversize mantids from, well, somewhere out there--certainly didn't match any of the standard endoskeletal, much less mammalian or humanoid, baselines of the Triumvirate but they made good pilots and, given their rarity, are quite prized. Klikkit has always wondered, politely and quietly even in its own mind, who exactly it must have offended to get this position--it should be manning the helm of a Beagle-refit research cruiser, not an Expendeavour.

Still, orders are orders and the Endeavour-class scoutship, not much more than a hundred-meter DropShip with the added expense of a tesseract drive and bulbous blisters filled with sensors and rudimentary laboratories tacked onto it, powers into the system on low-distort at a comfortable acceleration. Comfortable to them; meaning they can get across the system in relatively short intervals. Depending on the locals, well, it could range from pathetically slow to missile grade.

That's just one of the things that'll have to be found out...

Space blinks.

That is the only way to describe it. For about half a second, it seems as if a point on the night sky was twitching strangely, preparing to spit forward something new – and then, in a brilliant flash of light, it does indeed spit out something new. It is a small ship, no more then then thirty meters from prow to stern, decorated with a strange set of fake horns and colored in red.

The ship is old, a symbol of a bygone time when the Hughey craft were the single mainstay craft of the navy, serving as patrol boats, fighters, exploration vessels, everything. Now thre were barely any left, replaced in service by a variety of drone and manned craft. But the Exploration Command still uses them, and USS West Virginia is one of these craft – no matter how old.

Just like the original Hugheys, it's not painted according to any naval regulation, but in fact deep red, like, say, the flag of Old China, or, better yet, the old pickup trucks still popular in some parts of Allanea.

Captain James McCoy is still in command of the vessel. He observes the situation and speaks back to the XO. “We've hit the gold this time.”

And of course, he is right. Such is the law in Allanea that whoever discovers a sentient culture previously not contacted by the United States receives a large, fat reward. The crew of the West Virginia knows this well – they know that two crews rotated throuh this vessel, retiring after they received their rewards. Only McCoy does not retire – he merely keeps on ticking, even as immense sums of money tick on into his bank account.

Of course, McCoy changes. He becomes more suave, loses the thick local accent. Now, he is a polite man, not at all like the stereotype of Allaneans.

Others aboard the ship are not like that. Ronald Steward, for example, has long hair, painted green, and three rings in his nose, two of which glow and flicker, changing colors as he speaks. That is very disturbing for some people – noneof them aboard the West Virginia. Ronald Stewart is the ship's Communications and Weapons Officer.

“Sir, we have what appears to be a GEC vessel right there, what should we do?” - asks Ronald, pointing at a spot on the tactical display. The rings shift colors as he speak.

“Very well. Activate protocol Zeta.”

The ship tilts slightly, it's missile ports aimed towards the Scolopendran vessel, and fires them.

The rockets spread out in a large pattern, and then explode, long before posing a danger to anyone – but near enough to be easily seen on displays. They flash in many colors - dazzling red, white, blue, magenta, orange.

“Fireworks?'

“Yes, space fireworks, Nomos series. They're reserved for celebrations and saluting foreign dignitaries. These guys sort of fit the bill. Now message them.”


Attention Unidentified Scolopendran Vessel. We are proceeding towards the ringworld for exploration purposes. We are no threat to you and would in fact like to cooperate with you in this exploration.

P.S.

Did you like the fireworks we fired for you?

Neem Ralk moves his ship to a small group of asteroids, where his ship will blend in, in case they have a way of detecting him. He has been detected before.

He is slightly cross, watching the explosion of pretty lights, he says "Record images of engagement, and send." The ship A.I. beeps and says, "Confirmed."

He thinks, "Time for a closer look." He engages, two cloaked slow probes-- each is a package of instruments about three feet long. They are designed to drift in slowly and look like space garbage if detected. It will take several days for them to get closer to the ring. His is a game of patience.

Neem leans back and takes several puffs from a cigaette.

"Oooh, pretty. Thank you, Scout."

The lieutenant commander in charge of TYRS-SCT São Gabriel barely opens one eye, hands folded on his lap with his seat at full recline. "Hm? Something up, Cloudy?"

"No, not really. Just the ship sharing a visual of some fireworks off to starboard."

"Oh, really? Fireworks?" He doesn't ask who would do such a thing. Generally, outside of eccentric individuals, the set of probable instigators is extremely small. Extremely.

"We've an incoming message to go with it, apparently..."

Yup. It's them. By now, every single officer of the Triumvirate of Yut--be they Combined Services, Galaxy Exploration Command, Special Services, Civil Service, what have you--is used to being called 'Scolopendran.' It's just what happens, really. As an institution, it's gone through denial, careful explanation, and have finally reached acceptance. Space just isn't big enough anymore. "Stand by to record and transmit, unencoded, of course, audio only please," Kage asks politely.

Arroyo nods and just clicks the intentionally audible 'on air' switch into its active position.

* - * - *

This is Lieutenant Commander Kage Tristian of TYRS-SCT São Gabriel. The more, the merrier, apparently. Don't know if you noticed but we're not the only cats cruising this part of the cosmos. We're certainly not planning on stepping on any toes and I'm sure there's more than enough alien culture goodness to go around. Thank you for the fireworks; my science officer says they were very nice.

Lieutenant Commander Kage Tristian
CO, TYRS-SCT São Gabriel

OOC: Didn't know you Rp'd Scolopendra, let alone FT.

IC:

With the chatter amungst the Chronosian communications and Allaneans, there was no way this "ringworld" was going to miss the eyes of the Huntarian Empire. It was time the Empire sent in their newest ship to investigate, the Eradicator-A. A giant redish black temporal anomaly erupted in the Dessarr System and out popped the new Eradicator Class Towerless Star Destroyer Mk II.

A grey haired man stood in the middle of the ship's bridge, his eyes glancing the datapad he just received from his science officer's crew. His suit white, resembeling that of the GALACTIC EMPIRE's Grand Admiral uniforms. Damn, H.E.W.S. and A.S.C.S. is still non opporataional... At least we still got the IPS and all tactical systems operating... "Report helm."

"We have just entered the so called "Dessarr" system we've been hearing about. Sensors detect the Chronosian ships and the Allaneans. We have one unknown class in the system which we are unfamiliar with."

The man nodded in acknowledgment, "send a general communications to the unknown ship. Inform the Chronosians that Emperor Trilkan's new play toy has entered the system ready to render them aid if needed. We shall continue forward to see what this... "Ringworld" is about. Maybe it's a technology the Empire can aquire into it's databanks and we can create one of our own if it is what I think it is."

"Yes Grand Admiral."


Transmission to: Unknown Vessels
From: The Huntarian Empire

This is the Huntarian Empire Towerless Star Destroyer Eradicator. Please state your purpose in this system.

The bridge's turbolift doors opened, and the ship's engineer came onboard. The Admiral didn't bother to close his eyes as he had a small feeling he knew who it was. "Master Ithor, where's my third Necrominus Core?"

"I'm sorry Heromath, but engineering is having some problems adapting to these new systems. I still need time to meditate on the issue to find the problem. It's almost as though there is a flaw in the syst--"

The Admiral sighed with frustration, "are you accusing me of issuing a faulty ship before the eve of battle? Jurai awaits these ships. Now you either get the systems working, or I'll find someone else who'll replace you. Now I may not be Darth Aelikes or Lord Vorman but I do know many ways on killing a Force wielder, light or dark. Now get out of my sight."

Something strange happens to the mass anomaly readings, you watch as the gravity surrounding the object dissipates, and then you watch as the ion readings from the mass spectrometers go from reading the area around the object, to a smaller area around the object, to seemingly passing through the object, and then there being nothing there at all.

Neem Ralk adjusted the controls of the shadowskin to cause it to cloak against a different set of particle and scanning frequencies. He also switched off the artificial gravity generators inside the ship. He floated against the restraining straps in his chair. He was not sure what had happened before, but he did not want it to happen again.

OOC: Mass Spectrometers generally use ions to detect mass. Neem is attempting to adjust a metamaterial to cause ions to pass around objects as if it is not there.

(OOC: Not very often in this forum, to say the least... and sorry, not using a mass spectrometer. "Mass anomaly" generally means "well, there's some sort of gravitational influence over there, but we sure as hell can't see it." Useful to keep from smacking into gobs of dark matter, or find the occasional cloaked ship. Not like we particularly care one way or the other, after all, so long as it's not COMING RIGHT FOR US!

Yeah, there's a disconnect between the hard science exterior and the creamy nougat soft space opera interior. I used to care, but don't so much anymore.)

"Hey, look, it's a wedgie." Kage chuckles, which is probably a wholly inappropriate reaction to the yellow icon that has just blipped onto the forward strategic display. "I didn't know they still made those."

"They're a classic, sir. Apparently the arrowhead shape will never go out of style," Lieutenant Arroyo muses, half to himself.

"Well, of course not. As long as a sentient species has enough braincells to smack two rocks together, and one of those rocks happen to be flint, it's perfectly natural enough. So, what do the signals forbode?" Tristian does his best to sound creepy. It doesn't really work.

"Dunno. We've got third-party information from the Allaneans via the 'Pendran state department and backed up by their intelligence service, but you know how the orangebelts don't put much shrift into such things. In any case, decently high background bleed given its volume, probably has plenty more where that came from. Good deal of waste heat, some neutrino emission, some stuff on the W-band and the UTR-band... you know, the usual."

Then comes the message. It's not particularly friendly.

"Well, that's not particularly friendly," Kage notes, "but they did say please, even if they're acting like they own the place. Do they own the place?"

Arroyo reads the response off his console's primary display. "All signs point to 'no,' sir."

"Now, who's unknown to them, d'ya think?"

Cumulus ponders, one hand idly stroken his clean-shaven--hell, completely clean, Seldane can't grow beards--chin. "Hm. They know the Allaneans because the Allaneans know them. The name meshes with what São Gabriel has on file, so the intel may be right. We know who they are, but only through a third party. That narrows it down to the locals, the Chronosians, and us."

"And it wouldn't make much sense to ask the locals what they're doing in their own home," Tristian muses aloud.

"No, it wouldn't, but if what I hear is right it wouldn't stretch the imagination. Maybe for the sake of argument we should assume they mean us."

Kage smirks. "So someone in a heavy cruiser decides to get hardline on a scoutship? Seems a bit overreactive; it'd make much more sense to growl at a more likely threat, like that Chronosian insult to reality and good design ethos."

"It could take us," Klikkit says in a simple, modulated tone. It only speaks in simple, modulated tones. Simple, because it doesn't believe in verbosity. Modulated, because it's using a standard-issue squawkbox that was built by the lowest bidder and only inflects emotion when it absolutely has to, and Klikkit isn't the most emotional of giant bugs.

"Klikkit," the lieutenant commander says dryly, "a small child armed with a pea minus the shooter could take us. This is an Expendeavour we're talking about. Fact is it's over there, we're over here, and we've got very little to do with each other. Anyway. Cloudy, prep another transmission. Make it... um... those people. Over there."

"The locals?"

"No. The... whatsit... Hunters."

"Huntaer."

"Whatever."

* - * - *

This is Lieutenant Commander Kage Tristian of Scoutship São Gabriel, under the aegis of the Triumvirate of Yut Galaxy Exploration Command. We're just looking around, much like it seems everyone else in this particular bit of space happens to be doing... except for the locals, of course. Still haven't managed to make contact with them... but anyway, good to meet you, Eradicator, and good luck getting your tower back. Sorry to hear you lost it.

Lieutenant Commander Kage Tristian
CO, TYRS-SCT São Gabriel

* - * - *

"Sir, I think it's not supposed to have a tower. Telescope survey indicates it doesn't look damaged. Well... it could be, but that's a bang-up patching job if I've ever seen one."

"Really? Well, flange. Why'd they specify, then?"

The Seldane simply shrugs his broad shoulders.

Neem Ralk adjusted the holoscreens linked to the two drift probes. They were slowing moving toward their destination taking pictures and video footage of the ring around the world.

The ship AI took the pictures and did basic structural analysis based on the video as well as tried to identify any readily recognizable technological or artistic features. It scanned each image for markings, or artistic images.

Neem hummed to himself, "Starlight, starbright, oh I wish I may, I wish I might, wish upon a star tonight."

An incoming signal beeped, "This is Ahmed Ohyes from Scout Service Command, remain cloaked. We are doing analysis of the battleship footage in system."

Neem Ralk, "Understood, Commander Ohyes. I have launched two drift probes, they are on course. Footage will be sent on the hour every hour of the megastructure."

After a day of the collection of ships had arrived in-system, a Space control platform crew had begun receiving noticeably odd telemetry, cross-referenced it, and reported it to the shipyard commander. His having been reported of scanned multiple ship vectors, and confirmed vessels, ordered a universal hail to be transmitted.

30 minutes later, all ships were hailed on all standard radio channels with a signal; prime numbers and the sequence for Pi, followed by spacial coordinates to form a line parallel to Dessarr at a distance of about 20,000 km's; well within range of the nearby shipyard complex's LANCER canon turrets, if any of the FC vessels decided to start looking for trouble.

The Hail was a pulsed sequence of 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, followed by a long pause, then 3 pulses and beep sequence 1, 4, 1, 5, 9, 2, 6, 5, 3, 5, followed by another long pause. embedded within the primes and Pi was a series of rapid beeps and blips that translate to zero's and one's, which binary-based computers would interpret into visually-presented coordinates.

It was a primitive hail; but then again, one couldn't be sure that a foreign species' technology was on par, below, or above ones own, and it was just about guaranteed that they didn't speak Dessarri; However, math was constant. No matter where you went in the galaxy, 1+1 would always equal 2.

After the signal was sent, the Emporer was notified post-haste by the Shipyard Master, and Jaiden was summoned to the main orbital station....

----------

In a meeting with Praetor Markette and his Line-Officers in the ring worlds capital city, Jaiden Kreel received a call from her/his father, the Emporer, and after some tense (but never-the-less carefully said) words and the conversation ending, s/he immediately boarded a vehicle bound for the nearest spaceport, where an imperial star shuttle would be waiting.

Jaiden was mildly pleased that her/his father had decided to make her/him the first Dessarri to make first contact, although he was probably hoping that Jaiden would fumble it up and get eaten by who knows what sorts of aliens.

Making a quick call on her/his holo-cell, she made sure that there were afew things present on the Imperial Royal Shuttle.
----------

In the space control tower was a group of space-traffic coordinators that made sure construction on the new Capital Fleet were run smoothly, but since this morning had been getting odd signals from the outer sectors. At first, it was thought they were screen glitches or some sort of spatial phenomenon, but then they picked up colored flares and radio chatter on both standard and non-standard Dessarri bands.

A thermographic scan showed apparently several ships of vastly varying designs 'out and about' in the Dessar Nebula cloud; multiple species. Most space traffic didn't reach farther than orbital vector 6 orbit, and anything on vectors 7, 8, and 9 was only for Military craft.

The STF (space traffic foreman) called it in to the proper authorities, and surprisingly got a direct line through to the Emporer himself, who sent a representative en route to the Station

OOC:: and yeah, the hail is kind of like the one from the movie 'Contact'. XP

Three shifts go 'round, then yet another signal--oh wait, no, this is the one from the people they actually came for. That's okay, then. Pushing rather impolitic thoughts about how one can't stumble across a strange new world or new life and new civilizations without dogpiling on top of a bunch of others trying to do the same out of his head, Kage grins again behind closed lips. "Oooh, math. Just on basic radio, broad-spectrum?"

"Yes," Arroyo replies, glancing over his readout, "and lowest-common-denominator too. I guess you could call it amplitude modulation, if the amplitudes only have two states of modulation: on and off."

"I recognize the pattern, I think." Tristian fiddles with his multi-function console until he can get a copy of the science officer's display. "Primes. Oh, and pi. Okay, they know the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter. Definitely a contact code, then."

"Yes. Automated 'go away' warnings tend to be much more direct," the Seldane muses."

"Like the one on Empion?" Klikkit asks.

"Anyway," Kage says, bringing his chair up to its upright and locked position, "it's a standard contact code. We may as well reply with one of our own--wait a minute, that's the equation of a line. Well, a curve... or is it a series of points? I can't quite tell."

"São Gabriel thinks it's probably a mixture of the two--several points defining a path. Problem is, we don't know the units or the baseline of the coordinate system."

"Well, flange. Don't they know that there's only so much one can convey in geometric ratios and proofs?"

"I dunno, sir, I once had a theology professor who did wonders with squares, triangles, and lines." Arroyo smirks.

Tristian doesn't even bother to sneer. "You know, Cloudy, it's great that our sense of teamwork is so well-defined."

"São Gabriel says she doesn't even know why we're here. And by 'we' I mean 'everyone who isn't here.' She could do this herself, she says."

The lieutenant commander sighs. "Fine. Reply with the value of phi to twenty decimal places in the same pulse context, same frequencies, but tightbeam it. We don't quite have the power output of a planet, so far and wide and signal attenuation... anyway, then transmit the first few terms of the Fibonacci square equation. We'll see at the very least that they have an appreciation of the golden ratio and spiral."

"Let me guess--next step in the manual. Transmit 640, then 480, then transmit in analog amplitude modulation an image of the golden spiral that matches the aforementioned spiral in terms of pixels? Would you like that in NTSC or PAL?"

"Let's go with NTSC. It is just a black-and-white signal, after all."

Arroyo sighs. "We meet aliens intelligent enough to have built a ringworld like you guys did, and we're beaming television at them."

"And not even good television, at that," Kage says with a resigned tone. "Well, what did you want--universal translators? Keep beaming that spiral test pattern until we get some sort of acknowledgment, then maybe we can work out that orbit again in some sort of readily available unit of measurement. Planetary radii, perhaps."

http://dagobah.tchmachines.com/~tpjzdd/albums/ScenesandPosters/Golden_Spiral.jpg

Captain McCoy was completely unamused.

“Shit. Shit-shit-shit-shit this is a Galactic Empire vessel. We are now facing not one, but two Imperial ships? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And our missile armament is non-existent, gun armament is four glorified CIWS guns, and we are painted red. Dear god, their cannon are bigger then this ship!”

“Sir, Chronosia is in ESUS.”

“Yes. They also believe that the ESUS charter does not forbid them from attacking members. Don’t ask me how this works, they’re Chaos cultists, it’s not supposed to make any sense! They worship insanity for the love of god! Ensign, what’s wrong!”

“We are all going to die, Sir! We are all going to die!”

“No, we’re not, keep your cool, Ensign. We are going to figure this out. Really, we are. Give me a damp tissue.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Captain McCoy wiped his face with the tissue, and then demanded another one and another, until it become absolutely and perfectly sweat-free. Then he nodded to the ensign, whispered with him for a moment, and resumed his contemplation.

And finally he said: “All right Mr. Shepperd. Take us in.”

The ensign’s name was not Shepperd, but he understood the reference. The West Virginia switched course, now beginning to approach the Endeavour.

“Type: Attention Scolopendran Vessel…”

“It’s not. It’s a TY GEC vessel.”

“Well why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“I am sorry, Captain McCoy, I…”

“Nevermind. Start over. Send it via tightbeam.

Attention Scout São Gabriel.

We are requesting permission to dock to your vessel. First, because we have been living in a tiny space-capable box for four months, second because we would like to see if you can share any nice knowledge with us, and third, the presence of GE vessels…

Wait, we’re not real Naval officers. Our training quite allows us to admit we’re scared out of our pants, can we please dock to you?”

OOC: tag

The Binarian Empire had been scouting space with unmanned probes for years looking for human races to enlighten. Probe 18463's power supply was going to deplete after three more jumps. This would be its last mission before getting scraped and its AI progarm knew it. Its life span was going to be over as soon as all the collected data was logged. It hesitated a second before making what it knew would be its one of its last jumps. when it arrived upon its destination, a multi-star nebula, it detected several vessels as well as large ring orbiting one of the worlds. After double and triple checking its location in the databanks of Reach and Binaria, Probe 18463 made its final jump to Reach.

Neem Ralk says to himself, "Here goes." The AI beeps a set of coordinates He moves the ship to the coordinates.

A ship that is a long thin needle about 30 meters long with a ring at the back appears. The whole ship as it uncloaks changes to an ocean green color. There is a hologram of tortoise on the side which appears to be swimming in the green.

Neem Ralk shuts down the engines, and opens the communications channels. Electronics communications is primitive.

He switches on the various detection channels trying to pick up subspace traffic, ansible noise, quantum tunneling communicators, bell simultaneity generators, optronic signals, and other communications.

The fabric of space tore itself apart, revealing a blackness against which normal space seemed light. A ship sailed through the aperture, sleek silvery lines shining against the starlight. There was no attempt to hide. Why would there be? The Divine Imperium didn't particularly care if people recognised its ships or not.

There were also no visible armaments, however, this did not mean the ship was unarmed. The ship slowed into a reasonable position with the others in the area, dwarfing most of them by an order of magnitude. But that's because this wasn't a scout ship in the traditional sense. This was a ship designed for killing.

The Roanian ship drifted to an approximation of a halt. A flash of light drifted across its surface. and a secure communication channel was opened with the São Gabriel.

This is the Eternal Justice of the Light's Holy Sword, of Her Most Divinely Illuminated Majesty's Galactic Armada. We have picked up echoes of communications and signals from this area, and our sector scan has determined this location is the most likely match. We assume that this world has already been claimed for resource appropriation by the Triumvirate of Yut and request permission to simply catalogue, record, and chart for the imperial archives. For which we would require permission to communicate with your new subjects. Her Majesty would appreciate your cooperation.

-Commodore Dariel Nicarte

"Will they cooperate, Commodore?" A Lieutenant inquired from where she lounged across her chair, a hand gently stroking the console which controlled the ship's armaments. "After all, they are inferiors." With a distrustful glare at the dots indicating Allanean and Chronosian ships, she moved her hand closer to the transfer zone that would unleash vicious beams of kinetic energy.

"I believe so. After all, we have a similar purpose, the codification of the galaxy. Surely they will not begrudge us that!" The Commodore nodded, his eyes also on the other ships besides the Yut. "Send another message to their ship. Secure channels, mathematical sequences for their AI to decode."

Good evening, São Gabriel. If it is evening on your ship's internal clock. This is the Ship's AI for the Eternal Justice of the Light's Holy Sword. My Commodore has instructed me to inform you in secure AI-to-AI communications that my armament is to be placed at your disposal in order to destroy those whom he believes seek to steal Yut territory.

Organics can be so singleminded, can't they. If you'd like, I can tell the Commodore his message has been received, and we can move on without me needing to turn this area of space into chunks of debris, as I, for one, would like to see how this whole 'black hole at the center of the galaxy' turns out and being destroyed in conflict with others over a misunderstanding is low on my priorities and will probably not be looked on too highly by the Mage-Queen.

- Eternal Justice of the Light's Holy Sword

"We seem to be rather popular," Lieutenant Arroyo muses while messages--or rather, their summaries as devised by São Gabriel--start forming a queue on his display. Being audio, the playbacks have some interesting effects.

The Roanian message, for example, has Kage slink lower in his chair with a slight cringe. Now, the standard-issue Trium adjustochair has to be able to seat everything from dwarves to kzin and Sakkrans, which means its absurdly huge to the former, somewhat small to the latter, and still decidedly thronelike to the baseline human. "What? Claim? Please tell me they didn't just broadcast that to everyone."

"Hmmm... no, sir,"--even Cumulus has the good taste to look slightly chastized at the thought of coming in as an agent of the GEC and claiming uncharted territory for the Triumvirate because it has a flag and the fuzzy-wuzzies don't--"it's tightbeam and on a Relatively Good Privacy channel."

Tristian lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in, headware and other such posthuman augments notwithstanding. "That's good."

"Sir?" Cumulus levels a steady glance towards his captain.

The look is warily returned. "Yes?"

"Our response?"

"Oh. Ummm..."

* - * - *

Greetings, Commodore. Why, certainly you can look around and register whatever you'd like for your imperial archives. Consider all permissions requested granted, on behalf of the Galaxy Exploration Command and the greater Triumvirate.

Lieutenant Commander Kage Tristian
CO, TYRS-SCT São Gabriel

* - * - *

"What, you're not going to tell them we aren't claiming this system?"

"You know the Roanians, Cloudy. I think the locals can sleep easy under the aegis of their new imperial overlords what they don't know they have yet and they won't ever know they have. Hell, the overlords won't even know until we submit our report. It's better for them to be logged as a Triumvirate 'resource extraction asset' than as a 'potential safe expansion point' by the Roanians."

"Tell me again why we're friends with them, sir?"

"The pointies have bombed them so much that now they direct their psychosis at everyone other than us. Realpolitik, essentially."

"Ah. Oh, and the Allaurghmybrainhurts..." The Seldane shakes his head. "Gah. The conditioning's wearing off. The other people, they want to dock."

"What?"

* - * - *

Sorry, Captain McCoy, but I don't exactly see how you're expecting a scoutship of this class to be noticably more resilient to the excessive firepower wandering around from your ship. Then there's the issue that docking would sort of hamper our flight envelope, which reduces our only real advantage, which is maneuverability.

Finally, we don't have DropShip collars or other such large-scale universal docking apparati and so 'docking' would be a sort of, well, impromptu and probably quite jury-rigged sort of thing. Sorry, but I can't grant your request.

On the other hand, though, concerning the massed firepower, the Roanians that just showed up happen to be on our side, so that can't hurt.

Lieutenant Commander Kage Tristian
CO, TYRS-SCT São Gabriel

* - * - *

As for the mind-to-mind communication acting underneath all this, São Gabriel is a quiet, reclusive, and not entirely timid mind in response to the hail. The response is sort of hazy in terms of signal quality, mostly due to the excessive layers of I.C.E. the shipmind is transmitting through.

"Message recieved, Eternal Justice of the Light's Holy Sword. If the situation necessitates applied vaporization, it will be readily obvious. Currently everyone has our... permission... and appear to be following the rules. Thank you in any case for your support."

It had been 2 hours after receiving the golden spiral ratio image, when Jaiden had taken over this impromptu project of first contact. Listening to some of the audio messages from the vessels, it was to her/his surprise that they apparently spoke 'Old Line Dessarri', the language which was common when the Dessarr colonists first settled the Orbital-encircled planet.

Jaiden only knew of it from her/his ancient language studies, the rest of the populace had long since forgotten how to speak it. Taking a big gamble and picking up a mike, s/he turned on the high-waveform transceiver, and clicked the trigger to 'On Air'. "Greetings to the collection of Foreign Star Vessels in the Dessarra Nebula, On behalf of the Dessarri People and Emporer Kreel." Jaiden then clicked 'Off Air' so that s/he could hear any responses.... if any of them even heard the message.

High-Waveform was a simple form of pulse sub-space radio, with its signals ranging from barely slower than twice-lightspeed, to the higher frequencies that actually rode the currents of sub-space, and were only limited in range by spacial events such as nebula clouds, black holes, and solar activities.

The AI on the ship picked up the signal after running through a number of communication channels. "Greetings to the collection of Foreign Star Vessels in the Dessarra Nebula, On behalf of the Dessarri People and Emporer Kreel." The scanners targeted the location of the message on a tight beam. The target subspace communicator was located.

A tight beam subspace communication was sent to the location. "This is Captain Neem Ralk of the Commonalitarianism Scout Service Ship, Green Dreams, your ring habitat attracted us to this portion of space, prosperity, trade, and happiness be with you." The voice is slightly raspy.

"Hey, check it out. English really is the lingua franca of the entire Universe," Kage mutters. "Splinter colony, or divine intervention?"

"We'll just have to see, won't we, sir?" Arroyo sighs. "At the very least I suppose we can stop transmitting test patterns and can skip to the next chapter of the first contact manual."

* - * - *

And a hearty greeting to everyone in the area--isn't it wonderful that we can all get together and happily come across each other. I'm Lieutenant Commander Kage Tristian of the Triumvirate of Yut Galaxy Exploration Command and I'm glad to meet you, Captain Ralk, and also extend the greetings of the Triumvirate to the Dessarri and Emperor Kreel. It is our hope that we--all-inclusive--can learn much from each other in peaceful relations. If there's anything you'd like to know about us, please ask; if you're not averse, we've a few questions of our own about you and your peoples.

Lieutenant Commander Kage Tristian
CO, TYRS-SCT São Gabriel

“Oh, damn it all. They’re not letting us dock. We’re going to be stuck in this tiny box for a month or two more, and that if the Imperials don’t take a shot at us. Frankly, dying for freedom is one thing, but dying like a duck on a Progressi City firing range is quite another, Captain McCoy.”

“Ensign… there are the Roanians. If they’re going to shoot at anything, it’s likely that big overarmed Rubik’s Cube. And as for being in this box…”

“Sir, we have an incoming message from the ringworld.”

And so there was a short pause as everybody listened to the message.

“Who would have thought! They speak English!” - the Science Officer raised his eyebrows. – “Are you sue it’s a new civilization? Couldn’t it be someone we already know, Captain?”

“You’re a typical academic, aren’t you? Yeah, science implies they should speak some weird gobbledygook. You know, leaving aside the fact they could be using some form of machine translator, there are plenty of completely alien races that speak English for some goddamned reason. The Multiverse doesn’t make sense, if it did make sense, Allaneans would be running it, wouldn’t they?”

The Science Officer chuckled.

“Ensign, prepare to broadcast an audio message to the Ringworld.”

Glory to the Emperor Kreel and the Desarri! Glory to their people!
We aboard the USS West Virginia, an Allanean exploration vessel, request permission to land upon your wonderful structure and speak to your people, as well as rest from our long journey aboard this small vessel. Would it be possible for us to land?

The sleek lines of the Roanian ship shifted and parted, changing configuration into a receiver and transmitting form. A questing transmission was sent out, subtly seeking the origin of the Dessari ship and, hopefully, its homeworld.

Greetings to the Ruler and children of Dessar from Her Most Illuminated Divine Majesty, the Most Sacred and Powerful Mage-Queen Alessa Tyra Annirere. I am Commodore Dariel Nicarte, master of the Eternal Justice of the Light's Holy Sword, and on behalf of my most awesome Mistress, I bid you welcome to galactic society.

We would greatly appreciate a chance to examine your ship, your people, your technology, and your world, in no particular order, and desire access to any star charts you might have. In exchange for your cooperation, we have much to offer you. Knowledge of the greater galaxy, blueprints of technology that could only bring benefit to your Emperor and his children. And, of course, for your help in the Grand Cause of Knowledge and Illumination, we would grant the friendship of Her Majesty.

"Why are we offering them that, Ailura?" Another Lieutenant inquired, leaning over the female's shoulders. "It won't do them much good at this distance, and Her Majesty and His Highness the Grand Vizier won't appreciate this."

Ailura sighed and pushed the male back into his seat. "Because it's civilised manners. Edgey, check for possible video communication arrays."

'How many times must I ask you not to call me that? The ship's computer manifested itself as a tall, aristocratic looking elf on her screen. No sign of video transmission, I'm afraid. We shall have to wait for them to make the first move on that score.

Ailura sighed and looked up to where Dariel was awaiting a reply. "Well. In that case, we can't glamour them for the time being and we can't display Alessa's personal message to undiscovered civilisations. Hopefully that will change soon, though."

Neem Ralk sat waiting, he checked the secondary holoscreens, the two cloaked drift probes were slowly circling around the ringworld, filling in a complete picture of the ring from outer space. Eventually, the probes would circumnavigate the ring giving a complete set of video and photographic record of the outside of the ring.

Every few minutes a purple light flashed on the control panel as new photographs and video were fed via subspace ansible to a scout base on the outer edge of the Paradise system.

As the unseen probes collected pictures, those seeing the images would probably notice that while the Orbital around the planet seemed to be an Ecumenopolis where land was present, save for coastal beaches and comparatively narrow oceans; the planet below was preserved for agrarian and protected forest-parks, with vary few cities and spaceports, which grew around epic-sized artificial shafts that lead from the surface into the planets core; which was also equally constructed.

The outer hull of the ring, while having a mottled appearance, like that of digital camouflage in shades of grays and blacks from a distance, was actually comprised of a built-up form of several thousand-trillion, if not many magnitudes more, of truly massive pipes and panels, with what appeared to be one-way vent apertures at certain intervals.

In total, there were 12 'vents' at equal distant points on the outside of the ring, and usually line up to sync with the planetary shafts every hour.

In orbit of the galactic construct was a shipyard complex centered around a far smaller twin torus station, resembling a wheels-and-axle sort of form. the tiny workers busily worked to assemble building-like forms, much in the manner as one might build a terrestrial skyscraper.

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

In orbital station of the ringed world, Viceroy Jaiden Kreel, wandering to and fro in the large room, thought on the responses of the Foreign vessels....

One wanted to land so that its crew could resupply and refuel, and no doubt have some shore leave.

Another's response held an arrogant but polite tone, as if they ruled the entirety of the universe and expected everyone, regardless of class status or rank, to bow like slaves.

This one was brewing in her/his mind, along with a memory of a snobbish and overly loud senator whom s/he had had killed, .......There was a risk of them having superior technology, as well as the fact that people of egotism and showy arrogance irritated Jaiden to no known end.

With this one, this 'Heavenly Sword' ship; s/he had to tread very carefully. On one hand, Jaiden could be dismissive of them due to their arrogance, but end up causing a war that Dessarr would assuredly lose, notably from lack of a completed Space Navy fleet; on the other hand, it might be a good idea to have a minimalist policy with the Triumvirate of Yut and their mage-queen; just enough to gain technologies, but detached enough to not risk the Sovereignty of Dessarr as an independent world.

Picking the Mic up again and tabbing the 'on air' button, s/he spoke in a higher-pitched and more pleasant tone;

== This is Viceroy Jaiden Kreel to the USS WEST VIRGINIA, you may dock with the station to resupply and reload, although i must query if you have any of docking collar.

Apologies for not being able to use holo-frequencies, but images don't seem to do well in High-waveform at these ranges. Please approach within 2,000 of your ships' length to the station and hold position.

- Viceroy Jaden Kreel ==

Neem Ralk secretly approved of the way they were handling their planet, in a way it reminded him of the paraterraformed asteroids and planetoids of the home system. Maybe they would bring one of them here for cultural and scientific exchange.

It was the classic sign of a civilized culture that they managed their planets as reserved parks and habitats for biological species. Life was a precious thing and most planets did not have it.

Neem Ralk switched on some controls, the probes changed the cameras to infrared, and non-visible spectrum video. They were checking to see if the tubes were giving heat or energy. They might be some kind of core tap energy system.

Neem Ralk sent another message, "We wish to send over trade samples. They will be sent in a clear box. Common elements available for trade will be examples of pure elements of a specific type, there will be small models of machines and ships, whole ecologies will be represented on small disposable datapads."

“They don’t seem to want to use holocommunications.”

“They aren’t the only ones.” – Allaneans did not use holographic communications in space, though their ships were well capable of it. As a matter of fact, most military communications and commercial communications between ships were transmitted as plain text, or voice-only transmissions. Which was what they were about to use this time.

Greetings Honorable Viceroy Kreel. We are performing the designated maneuvers.

And so the West Virginia closed to within 60,000 meters of the station.

OOC:: to be rather honest, i have no f--kin' idea how to proceed/respond.

.__. umm... a little help? plz?

OOC:: ok.... playing it out like this is getting us nowhere; time to fast forward.

other info : the emporer is going senile since hes pushing 100, and the Viceroy who is in line to replace the Praetor, will probably dethrone him sooner or later, but not before bumping off the princess and the chancellor.

the Peoples Republic of Dessarr is a more/less a provisional government, the planet having just come out of a bio/chemical warfare induced fall of civilization/anarchy. current defenses are : about 80 to 100 trans orbital fighters, 5 corvettes, and various shuttles and armed privateer vessels, with a battle group of adozen to 20 cap ships being constructed.
-=-=-=-=-=-

if you'd like to ally or trade, state yes or no, and any would-be IC stipulations or conditions and such - no formalities, no fancy talk, just say so; cause its obvious going on like this is beating a dead horse.

Neem Ralk sends over a large box with numerous trade samples to a point near the ringworld. He says, "We are prepared for trade and resources. We are especially interested in acquiring new technologies and science for our industrial base."

____________________________________________________________

There is a wide variety of sample items in the case. Some of it is odd and unusual, looking like little toys-- a little construction mecha, a miniature space salvage ship, a holographic presentation of a globe being swept clean of garbage and pollutants, a variety of seeds from unique planets, and many other things.

http://www.freewebs.com/commonalitarianism/resourcesandindustry.htm

OOC: I've been working a bit on expanding my website for the Commonalitarianism...

(OOC: If you dont mind me Reserving this space for a post later)

The Allaneans stood near the ship's exit module, wearing crisp uniforms and looking sharp. The weapons officer and the captain's mate would remain on board, but the other crewmen would, in fact, meet the inhabitants of the Ringworld - and they couldn't help but be a bit nervous about it.

10 minutes after the West Virginia performed the maneuver, 3 ad-hoc converted worker-module fighter craft (http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y91/roskk/DoGa/spacefuryfightertlf.jpg) swooped down to drop flare-devices to act as runway lights for the small craft, leading from their current position to the proverbial doorstep of the station.

In the main corridor, Jaiden was busy overseeing the arrangements for the diplomatic envoys of the alien ships.

Once it was all triple checked, and triple checked again and again, s/he waited in the corridor outside the airlock, and paced around the room, her/his mind racing.

What would they look like? Will i end up offending their customs accidentally; Have i already done so? Are they wayward pirates of some sort? Idly pacing the room, Jaiden's mind conjured up the worst of worst-case scenarios in an event like this....

looking out a small hatch, Jaiden sees their small ship coast up to the docking sleeve; blood red, and sporting what appears to be horns on the front.

It did not bode well.

Ordering 6 members of the Republican Royal Guard into the adjacent hallway (having already been on the station with Jaiden's arrival), they quickly filed in and took sentry around the 'room'. Their white armor was polished to a near-glow, and their weapons, both the rifle at their right shoulder and the sword at their left, looked as deadly when stationary as they were when being wielded by the RRG, and their T-visored and mowhawked helmets revealed no external emotion.

The Airlock doors hissed and clanked open, revealing to the West Virginia crew the above described scene, with Jaiden Front and center.

S/he was wearing a slightly more ornate version of the chestplate, right shoulder and all of the left arm of the armor the RRG was wearing, along with a hakama style skirt and a cape with a wide collar. If s/he was armed with any sort of weapon(s), it was either small, in pieces, or compacted to its smallest within the spaces of her/his attire....

"Greetings." - says Captain McCoy as he disembarks, his crew following behind.

They are dressed in the parade dress uniforms of the navy, sporting empty holsters where their pistols should have been - it is the tradition of the Allaneans to wear a symbolic holster when they are not supposed to be carrying the weapon that came in it - and officer's swords. All are polite and clean-shaven, and look happy to finally step outside the narrow confines of their craft.

"I am Captain McCoy of the USS West Virginia, an exploratory craft. These are my crew. Whom do I have the honor to meet?"

"Welcome to the Star Navy Shipyards, Captain, I am Viceroy Jaiden Kreel" S/he said in a neutral tone with a polite smile, and bowing slightly, reminiscent of the Japanese, and letting the white-armored soldiers presence in the room and Jaidens wording of where they were at impress upon the foreign crew that the Dessarri were not overly interested in maintaining peace when push came to shove.

Jaidens skin was colored an absolute gray, with long white hair styled into a simple, though high ponytail that cascaded down her/his back, and her/his lips, eye-sockets, and neck/collarbone sported black accents, as well as dark accents across Jaidens ckeekbones that gave her/him an air of silent command, and her/his ears were quite pointed. The attire the Viceroy wore was at once both male and female.

The crew was probably wondering what verbs to address their host(ess?) by, since Jaiden as a figure didn't seem to display any sort of indication to either sex in particular.

"The Star Navy?" - the captain says in genuine surprised - "We detected none of your ships in orbit. Am I to assume that your ships remain parked in the shipyards in peacetime? Or do you rely on some other means of concealment?"

"Admittedly, we are in a state of re-armament, but never the less, this station is also the hub of the Shipyards. Did you not see the conglomeration of structures being built?" Jaiden said casually.

A pair of low-ranking officers wearing black uniforms (http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/3/3a/Sub-officer.jpg) came in, set down a furniture sized box onto the table in the room, spoke afew sentences of something that sounded like japano-saxon, and then smartly waved their right hands in 2 motions. Briefly speaking to the officers in Modern dessarri, Jaiden returned the hand-wave, and they then exited the room, dissapearing from view as the doors loudly hummed open and shut.

Sparing a moment to be blunt, Jaiden asked why their ship was blood red and had horns on the front.

"That is very simple. There was a time when our navy consisted almost purely of tiny ships like that - thousands, hundreds of thousands of them. At the time, every crew renovated their ship in a separate, recognizeable style. Contests were held for the most original design. This ship was at the time a key research vessel."

"After our government returned to more, eh, sensible ship designs, some corvettes of this type were retained, mostly because it cost too much to scrap them. As you see, we kept the old paint scheme, too."

Moving the conversation along to food, and motioning for the captain and crew to follow, Jaiden walked out of the airlock hallway and into an octagonal room that looked like a station personnel rec room, which had some smaller tables pushed together to make a larger one in the center of the room.

Down the hallway, Jaiden idly talked with the crew while messing with what looked like a PDA device, somewhat silently arranging for food and quarters for the crew, as well as a reminder note on said device to stop by a Companion Temple on The Ring later on, to see if any of the mistresses would entertain any of the crew.

Taking a seat at the head of the large black slab of a table, Jaiden asked "What sort of Export Products does your Country distribute, Captain. We are willing to trade Weapons and automobiles in exchange for other things."

------

Unseen by the crew, in a typical kitchen elsewhere yet not too far from the rec-room, food and drink was being prepared for the crew....

"We export practically everything. With the size of our nation, name a product and someone, somewhere, is making it. And we import lots of weapons and automobiles, as a matter of fact."