NationStates Jolt Archive

Xiscapian border space

A flash of brilliant blue light heralded the brief life of the slipgate that delivered the large cruiser classed vessel that made exit into Xiscapian airspace. They were unannounced and uninvited, but they had little to fear, for they were obviously a civil vessel. It was an old Heirophant class mid-line cruiser, stripped of weapons, countermeasures, and point defenses. The class had been retired from service over three thousand years ago with the unveiling of the Trireme destroyer line and subsequent overhaul of the cruiser classes. The mothballed blueprints found new life with Traileric foreign relations, however, as it met their needs perfectly. It wasn’t as streamlined as modern classes, but it retained it’s menacing profile, and was well equipped for the intimidation factor. Hefty shields helped too. Upon the side of her 371 meter long hull was emblazoned the Traileric battle-standard, and in the upper white corner of that beloved symbol of the Hellenic Empire the crest of Traileric foreign affairs, a white olive branch wrapped around the broken shaft of a spear.

After exiting the slipgate, conventional drives thrummed to silent life, spilling light into the inky blackness of empty, deep space. Docker’s lights flooded across her bow, illuminating both the flag, a majority of the vessel, and her name: The Antigone.

They didn’t bother with any preliminary communications, they wouldn’t reach the Xiscapians for some 22 million years anyway, as Traileric Scryers had ascertained that the Xiscapians neither possessed phased telemetry technology or anything compatible with it, nor would likely have the means of an equivalent for another 1,300 years if they continued at their current rate of technological progress. Besides, the Xiscapians were perfectly capable of detecting alien presence in their territory, and would respond as they saw fit. The Trailarii were patient, and had always been thus, it was their way.

They would wait.

Commander Falks turned and glared at the shrieking alarm, the Officer manning the console the horrific noise was emitting from looking sheepish and shutting the Klaxon off. "An unidentified vessel has entered space just outside our border, Commander. It does not appear to be a warship." he reported. Falks looked worried. After all, it was not everyday a ship showed up, entirely unannounced, so close to them. "What are our long-range scanners saying?" he asked. "The vessel is moving closer, but it will still be some time until they are in range of detecting us."
Falks nodded and turned to the Communications Officer. "Send them a greetings, and sent a message down to the hanger to get a scout ready for launch."

The Border Defense Station was little more than a small complex based inside a hollowed-out asteroid covered in detection instruments and weaponry, the only hole a small hanger for small craft. From this gash a scout ship, the size of a fighter, shot out, banked "downward", and moved away at a steady pace towards where the ship was coming from. Armed with only duel laser cannons, the ship was intended for deep space and plantary recon missions, often piloted by androids on intelligence gathering missions, or for first contact. This ship, however, contained a kitsune pilot, who's mission was merely to let the incoming starship know that they were watching, never mind the lightyears away Border Defense Station.

Almost simultaneously the communications array broadcast a tight-beam signal to the Antigone:
Unidentified vessel, you are flying into Xiscapian controlled space. Please state your origin and nature of your vessel and presence. Hostility will be met with deadly force.

The Traileric vessel itself no longer maintained the required instruments to detect or respond to open-space data transfer, but the grapefruit-sized Scryer probes common to all non-civilian Traileric craft did. In this fashion, the Scryers were able to translate the data to the Antigone's command and control AI.

There were a few minutes of lag before the ship's message came back to the Xiscapian border fortress.


I am Antigone, a diplomatic relations transport of the Hellenic Empire of Trailica. I have come in the name of peace and goodwill; I was unable to ascertain your method of communication, as we have little data on your species. There will be no need for hostility, as I lack both the armaments and programming to respond to anything other than the lightest of threats. I carry within me a member of his Holy Majesties own noble bloodline, who has come in the interest of trade with your own fledgling nation. The origin of your communication has been acquired, expect me shortly. We come unarmed.

Without waiting for a reply, the ship recalled its Scryers, and once again disappeared into slipspace, only to emerge several astronomical units from the Xiscapian border fortress. There it waited in silence for further words with what it assumed was the base commander.

The scout swerved out of the way as the ship appeared in front of it, returning to the station as it's mission was no longer necessary. After a moment's silence as the message was received, read and discussed, the Border Defense Station messaged back:
If you wish it, we can patch a direct communications link to Xiscapia so your Ambassador will need not leave the ship. However, alternatively, you may beam or send a shuttle to the station to meet with a diplomat directly.

On board the station kitsune spacers and marines lined up curiously at holoscreens of the base's external cameras, looking at the ship. It was always exciting to see a new type of ship, as every race and people had different designs and styles. Xiscapia was contacted with a report of the events that had occured so far, with promise of a follow-up report once the meeting was over.

In the interest of the holy bloodline, my Master has elected to remain aboard me, requesting that a direct feed be made to whomsoever handles such affairs in your culture. What we have to offer shall not take long to put forth, for trade details are the affairs of merchants and hagglers, not the leaders of men. These are his direct words, and I must abide by them. I will now pull into a holding pattern to reduce gravitational drag.

With that, the mid-range vessel eased gently to port, rolling ever so much on its side as its Tidal Projection engines briefly flared to life, applying thrust into the turn. It was in the borderstation's hands now, how long this exchange took.

We are patching though now.
The Border Defense Station received the holograph feed from Xiscapia, and promptly relayed it to the Antigone:

On the screen, or vox, or whatever the noble Trailarii had to communicate with, a face and shoulders appeared. Long, silky looking red hair fell down the back of her black and deep purple diplomatic robes, matching the dark red fox ears sprouting out of the hair from the top of her head, but contrasting sharply with the pale, almost albino skin. Two firey sun-colored eyes looked out from the aristocratic face, yet the gaze was not unkind. The being inclined her head. "Noble of the Hellenic Empire, I am the Vanadict, Chief Ambassador from Xiscapia. We hear you have a trade proposal?"
If such a display screen was not present aboard the Antigone, the message would be sent as purely vocal.

The bubbly glowing blue liquid within the primary cauldron aboard Antigone bubbled to life. The frothy waves of clear turquoise settling to a flat even medium, the voice and image that came through were somewhat garbled due to technological incompatibility, but Polypheseus could see clearly enough. He was a tall Trailarii, though this was more genetic enhancements than birthright, and broad of shoulder. he felt a little naked when not entombed within his Hypaspist combat powered armor, but to meet with a civilian with which there was no war encased in iron was considered uncouth. He had dark eyes and pallid skin, for much of his long life had been spent within the sunless confines of some craft or another, as was his duty. He was Polypheseus of Attica, and he was of noble blood. The linen toga-esque robes he wore denoited his station, trimmed with gold, steel gray, and green, the latter two the colors of his nation.

One of the first things one would notice about this Trailarii was that he was not quite human anymore. Their skin was thicker, for one, for their chosen homeworld was a fair bit harsher than the climate of ancient Terra, and more radioactive to boot. The eyes were deeper set, the right eye containing a second pupil, and in fact a whole other optic network designed to integrate with rangefinders and other such equipment in a warsuit. Furthermore he was bald, entirely hairless in every fashion. This was rather common amongst the infantry, as traditional long Greek hair could tangle with damaged armor that must needs be removed.

The general looked into the cauldron, meeting the eyes of the Xiscapian. Tucked beneath his armor was a cross crested Corinthian helm that appeared more archaic and ceremonial than actually functional.
(Traditional Corinthian hypaspistoon helm)
http://a592.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/21/l_6728115a40d2696cf533896fc072d0ef.jpg

After a moment, he cleared his throat.

"Greetings, Vanadict, from the lands and soil of Trailica. I am Polypheseus of the Hadrikles bloodline, and fourth in line to the black-iron throne. We have long observed your civilization in its ascension from dark ages of disunity to your current station. My imperial lord has decided that you have matured as a culture enough that we may open relations with you. All we require is willingness on your part, the opening of trade lanes, and annual tribute, for we shall undertake the task of securing the trade lanes from piracy and hostile powers. We have observed the public data available from the galactic bank upon your net worth, and surely you see that the economic benefit of access to Traileric goods far outweighs the tribute we shall demand."

He had read his lines.

Your move.

Vanadict considered the human's (for that is what he was, no matter the enhancements or deformities he placed upon himself) words. One had to tread softly around nations as large as his, especially when they are offering you something. She was standing on the marble floors of a Palace conference room, robes drawn about her in the chilly air from the open windows.
"While I am sure your goods are of the highest quality," she said, "there are many things Xiscapia needs, and also many things she does not want. Perhaps a demonstration of what you are offering in trade is in order?"

Puzzlement. A demonstration?

"Our technology has the benefit of nearly ten thousand years of progress. We have the ability to produce and mine large amounts of goods far cheaper and more efficiently than any of your current supplier. We can offer raw materials, ores, foodstuffs, and ammunition for prices and bulks that would bankrupt your own nations corporate entities, or even the companies from which you import. Consider getting a hundred more for what you currently spend. Furthermore, we can offer design schematics, civil engineers, and scientists to guide you on the path to enlightenment. All we demand is regular tribute, and brand loyalty. Trade with us and you need trade with no other."

"While it is so we can pay a tribute, we still do trade with other nations, and forgive my assumption that your nation alone cannot possibly offer every kind of good and service we currently import. We cannot promise brand loyalty in any case. We can, however, promise regular trade and sufficient annual tribute for your goods. Approximately of what amount would this yearly tribute be?" Vanadict said calmly.
The Xiscapians were a nation of sword carriers. Nearly every adult had one, and an armed society is a polite society. However, disagreements did arise, so...
En Garde.

"While the tribute demanded of your government shall fluctuate depending upon the ammount of traffic your merchants wish for, and I assure you, merchants that do not trade with us shall soon be put out of business by those who do not, for our goods are cheaper, offered in greater bulk, and of a higher quality than known galactic competition. In all of the grand Extra Solar Union of Systems, none can match our export magnitude. Also, I have agreed with the more powerful corporate entities within my nation to negotiate access to your merchants toll. Er..I believe your kind calls it a 'stock exchange'."

Took your rook.

"Indeed, a stock exchange, to trade company stocks and bonds and shares. You have well empathised the quality, quantity and prices of your goods are superior to all other known competitors. But believe me when I tell you there are some trading organizations and corporations which cannot be replaced for us, not in the sense of finances or goods. It is pick and choose: We will take some of what you offer, and leave the rest. If you truly believe your entry into our markets will force other companies out of business, that is your faith and assumption. Now," she gazed at him, "you mentioned that you would provide ships along our trade routes for the protection of our merchants. Sadly you have come late, as an agreement between several nations at our capitol is currently in progress on the subject of protecting our space lanes, and it will almost certainly be jointly undertaken by our allies. We, Xiscapia, was attacked by pirates during an unfortunate incident not too long ago, and we have stepped up our security along those routes. You may send your escort and patrol vessels if you will, but I fear it would be a waste of your money, energy and resources in adding another layer of protection onto another already heavily guarded section."
Vanadict smiled politely at the Trailarii noble.

"We are sorry to hear that your own border patrol is inadequate to defend from brigands and others who prey upon the weak. However, I do hope that your allies can assist you in this endeavor, if our peacekeepers are not needed, they will busy themselves in our territory. We have gotten what awe came for, that being trade access. I am not an economist or a businessman, and neither, I suppose are you. Consider this negotiation session concluded, and good day Xiscapian, you shall see ships bearing our Helm and Wreaths in your harbors before the end of this cycle."

A fake smile, and the communication was withdrawn.

OOC: What, specifically do you import, for the benefit of RP accuracy? At my size I can wanktaculate anything into a trade barge. :D

"And a heartfelt good-bye to you, Trailarii noble. It has been a pleasure." Vanadict bowed just as the communications were cut. She looked at the screen in silence for a moment without expression, in thought. Carefully arranging a polite look, she turned and strode from the room, robes flapping around her, to inform the Emperor.
OOC:
Food, textiles, fuel, working droids and building materials are all primary imports.

One year later.


The Trailarii had been busy with their new trade partner. Business had been good. Barges now floated freely between the two nations, carrying goods in one direction and payment in another.

In theory, this was a boon for Xiscapia, in reality, it was not.

Behind the scenes, the Traileric corporate entities had been busy buying up the stock of businesses that went under in Xiscapia, gradually getting direct footholds in the Xiscapian stock market's bottom rung. The Traileric corporations were also using their immense profits to cover the deficits of these floundering companies, resulting in a sudden injection of multi-billions of Traileric minai into the Xiscapian economy. Each minai is worth six and a half Xiscapian unions.

At first, little nudges to Xiscapian inflation had satisfied the corporate powerhouses of Trailica, but things were bound to become more aggressive sooner or later. Before the trade agreement was four months old the Traileric agricultural megacorp "Food Incorporated" held three quarter majority shares to two large and influential Xiscapian export corporations. These trends were getting harder to hide..By the time the trade agreement was eight months old, the Trailarii were devouring businesses by the handful, buying majority shares and failing that going directly to whatever bank the business had gotten its loans from and simply buying it out. What can you do against an economy hundreds of times richer than yours, carrying a weighty currency worth almost seven times yours on the galactic market?

Now, one year after the trade agreement's birth. Trailica is poised to buy out Xiscapia as a whole.

A silent, weaponless invasion.