NationStates Jolt Archive


Try Diplomacy First, You Can Always Invade Later (FT, IC, closed)

Feazanthia
31-10-2007, 01:20
Tap. Tap tap.

Rain pattered against the transparent steel view port of retrofitted D77-DC. Its engine pylons adjusted for the wind now battering the titanium-A plated hull, bringing the dropship into a steady and smooth descent.

"Federation One, you are cleared for landing on pad C. Welcome to Asrend."

A quartet of HSF-25A fighters roared past the dropship, the cacophony of their fusion engines nearly overwhelming the soundproofing of the D77. A pair of military-issue D77-TC dropships flanked Federation One, deploying their landing gear as they passed the ornamented craft.

"This is Foxtrot-Two-Seven to Federation One. We are on the ground. You may proceed."

"Confirmed, Two-Seven," said the dropship's pilot into his helmet mic. "Touching down. Mr. Praetor?" The pilot looked back over his shoulder at the man in a formal, stark-white naval dress uniform. "We're landing, sir. Recommend you prepare to disembark."

---

Grace-028, fully armored in her powered combat suit, stared at the being in front of her through a yellowed visor. The creature was vaguely humanoid, possessing all the right number of appendages and standing in a bipedal fashion, but that was where the similarities ended. Its feet - if they could be called that, they were more like paws - were seemingly reversed and covered in beige-blue fur (which only was hinted at through the other being's own combat suit). It stood just as tall as Grace, which was an oddity seeing as Grace herself stood half-a-head taller than the largest marine while in her armor. Its head was elongated, its ears relocated on top while its nose and mouth were seemingly stretched by some invisible hand. Grace caught the hint of fangs within its maw.

She, along with hand-picked members of the 101st Tactical Airborne (dubbed "Helljumpers" for their often dangerous and suicidal missions), stood facing their alien counterparts across the rain-slicked tarmac. Hands were held loosely on their rifles which, though in parade rest position, were ready to be fired at a moment's notice. Grace noticed her counterparts were behaving similarly. There was no love lost between the Kiith Federation and the Asrengarde Hegemony, two groups that collectively made up what was known as the Feazanthian Dominion. Though technically allied and on good terms publicly, both races still held animosity towards each other. This was culled by the mutual, grudging respect in place from the Collective War. Sure, Asrengarde were becoming a common sight on some of the outer planets, drinking and even mating with humans, but they were still banned from the capital of Feazanthia Prime. Humans were, likewise, banned from Asrend.

We're the outsiders here, Grace found herself thinking uncontrollably. If it weren't for the delegation, they would be perfectly within their rights to shoot us on the spot.

"Praetor Halcyon," said the lead Asrengarde, his armor jet-black and gleaming as if it were made from obsidian. Grace fought the urge to wheel around to see the Praetor. How had she missed his arrival? Had she been so caught up in her thoughts that she had not sensed the man's presence? "It is an honor to welcome you to our glorious capital," continued the leader, "however unusual an honor it may be."

"The honor is all mine, Guardsman," said the young man now pressing past the human detachment in his too-clean uniform. Grace noted the careful choice of words. Guardsman. It was an vague rank designation, not recognizing the Asrengarde in his own peoples' tongue, but not insulting him by assigning him a human rank either.

"Her Royal Majesty," said the Guardsman in his deep, melodic tone, "is awaiting your arrival in the courtyard. She believes you will be most, ah, comfortable there."

Grace instinctively tensed at the Asrengarde's hesitation. She thought she caught a hint of the word "furball" - a derogatory and racist slur against the Asrengarde - being passed through the marines' private channels. However, the Praetor simply nodded and signaled for the guard to show the way.

Grace couldn't help but pray.

Koshiir Ra protect us, so we may see out this day.
Feazanthia
01-12-2007, 23:05
"You honor me with your presence, Praetor," the voice was like silk, wrapping around the human's ears like a lover's caress. The voice's owner herself lay draped over a pale blue cushion a few meters from the soft bubbling of a tiny stream. Her vulpine face was the avatar of beauty to both human and asrengarde. Her presence dominated all within the transparent steel dome of the palace courtyard. "I trust your journey was...pleasurable."

The praetor's chiseled face remained resolute despite the overwhelming allure of the Hegemony's ruling monarch. Within, he was thankful that his personal guard all wore the blackened helmets of the Dominion Marine Corps, as he was sure that at least some of them had their tongues out gazing at the half-dressed queen.

"Quite," responded the young leader of the Daiamid, slowly lowering himself into the low-seated couch opposite the queen's cushion. The seat instantly swallowed him, being far too soft for human liking. Cunning foxes...keep the enemy uncomfortable in order to maintain control of the negotiation. Praetor Torroth C. Halcyon, Sa of Sas, righted himself and forced his mind into a state of half-meditation, blocking out the discomfort along with the queen's efforts at enticing him and his body's hatred of the too-humid climate of Asrend. "Our warships are always quite spartan, however. Sometimes I do wish for a dish that wasn't freeze-dried."

The alien queen shared his light chuckle, but but they both knew he had made his point. He had a battlecruiser in orbit. Probably an entire battlegroup. This was no casual meet.

"So, my good praetor. What brings you to our fair soil?"

"Business, as usual," said Halcyon, sipping the tea that a nubile servant girl had just brought him. The nigh-undetectable aftertaste of sedative lingered on his tongue. The praetor could not help but smile at the queen's resourcefulness. She was pulling out all the stops to make him vulnerable. Unfortunately for her, he had forseen this, and the pill now marinating in his stomach would neutralize any known sedative or poison she tried on him.

"Ah, of course," said the queen with the false hint of regret. "I trust that this is not about the recent increase in pirate attacks along the border." That jab at both the Dominion's security and counter-intelligence efforts did not go unnoticed. A decent counter to his warship threat.

"Unfortunately, it is, your majesty," responded the human leader, his face unphased by the remark. "Two convoys en-route to the Epsilon Indi system have gone missing in the last month." He had just confirmed what had undoubtedly taken her spies countless time and resources to learn as if it were nothing. Let her chew on that.

"Unfortunately, these are the times we live in," sighed the queen, who had certainly noticed that her sedative was not taking effect by now. "I only wish there was more that we could do to stop them."

A smirk cracked Halcyon's face. She had just played into his hand.
"That is also why I am here. I have come to ask for the assistance of the Honor Guard in quelling these rebels."

The queen returned his smirk, her eyes dancing in the artificial sunlight of the domed courtyard.
"Yes, I would imagine that the campaign into the Milky Way has strained the navy's resources."

Her words hit Halcyon like a kinetic to the gut. She knew! Somehow, the Asrengarde Hegemony had learned of the Kiith Federation's deployment into the alien galaxy, one of the most closely guarded secrets in the military.

The two leaders glared at each other. Hands on rifles tensed as both teams of personal guards prepared to gun down their alien counterparts. The queen had just openly admitted that she was spying on the dealings of the Navy, a direct violation of the Concordia Peace Accords and a reasonable justification for war between the two states.

Without breaking the lock he had on the female's eyes, Halcyon spoke first.
"Marines, you are dismissed."

The black-armored marines stood rooted to their spots, unsure what to do. Were they to simply leave the leader of the Daiamid - indeed the holder of nearly supreme executive power in the Dominion - alone with these asrengarde?

The anthropomorphic monarch, as if aware of the hesitation, raised her left hand ever so slightly, dismissing her own personal guard along with the trio of servant girls.

"Janissary," said Halcyon, referring to the Gifted leading the marines. "Was I unclear as to my orders?"

Grace-028 instantly snapped into a salute, the motion a blur as her Khopesh armor augmented her natural speed and reflexes.

"Marines, fall out!"

The Praetor remained emotionless as the soldiers of both sides left the general vicinity. When they were outside auditory range, he sighed and laid back in his cushion.

"Now, your majesty, shall we dispense with the bull?"