NationStates Jolt Archive

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Declaration of Independence

We, the people of the colonies of Arcadia IV, New Luna and Emerald, in the interests furthering of our own material, social and political development and upon the majority referendum acceptance of this declaration, do hereby declare a state of independence from the government of the United Federation of Planets and form our own union of government to be known as the Federation of Consolidated Worlds.

The United Federation, whilst being a fair-minded colonial government during our history, has been unable to attend to local affairs within the Arcadia system adequately in recent years, including but not limited to economic development and military defence. We feel it is therefore in our interest to manage our own affairs as an independent, sovereign state autonomous to our southern cousins and former masters.

This Declaration hereby seeks to establish the central tenants of our government:

1. A free, democratic system of government with an established Constitution and Bill of Rights.
2. Free, fair and regular elections for public office.
3. The established rights to freedom of speech, assembly, property, and prosperity for all citizens.

Under the authority of this decree, a Provisional Government is also formed from the former colonial administration of the Arcadia system colonies, with a mandate of one month to format a Constitution, Bill of Rights and the framework of a Federal Government, all of which shall be subject to public referendum. At the end of this month, the Provisional Government shall step down and elections shall be held for the Federal Government.

This decree is given the authority of the colonists of the Arcadia system by universal referendum across the three founding states.

The Provisional Government of the Federation of Consolidated Worlds
President Alexander Maximillian, former Governor of Arcadia IV

Arcadia System News
Federation of Colonised Worlds gains lease of Starships for local defence

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Several Miranda Class Starships will be handed across to the FCW Star Navy on a
ten-year lease, with an option to purchase at the end.

In a further step following the peaceful independence of the Arcadia system from the United Federation of Planets (UFP), the newly-formed Provisional Government of the Federation of Colonised Worlds (FCW) has agreed a lease of ten Miranda Class starships from the UFP's mothball fleet to bolster its own defence until the development of indigenous construction capacities.

The vessels, retired from Starfleet service several years ago, will be handed over to the newly formed FCW Star Navy later this week. The FCW has also agreed with the UFP to purchase materials to begin construction of an orbital starbase facility for the purposes of constructing vessels locally.

President Maximillian of the Provisional Government thanked the UFP in a press conference for "assisting in the peaceful transition of the FCW to an independent state", and promised "friendly relations with our former colonial masters."

Although the FCW independence means that the UFP has lost one of its northern-most outposts, the agreement on independence was made several months earlier as part of the UFP's plans on consolidating military forces from its borders following resurgent tensions with the Romulan Empire.

The UFP has also negotiated with the FCW the rights to a listening post in the system to continue monitoring systems outside its northern-most border, and a Non-Aggression Pact has been agreed between the two states for the next ten years.

The Miranda Class starships will be transferred to FCW Star Navy control and be recommissioned in the following weeks. The first vessel, formerly USS Michigan, will become FCW Independence and will be on active patrol next week.

Donald Peterson
Arcadia System News (ASN)

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The Federation of Colonised Worlds (FCW), in seeking greater involvement in the international and interstellar political scene, hereby officially forms the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, to be responsible for the development, maintenance and communication management of diplomatic relations between the FCW and foreign states, political bodies and individuals in accordance with the foreign policy created and directed by the Federal Government of the Federation of Colonised Worlds.

As of this decree, the FCW invites those states and political groups seeking diplomatic relations to formally request such forthwith in the spirit of mutual cooperation and betterment between states.

Emma Su-song
Provisional Government Foreign Minister

There was a thunderous pulse about the world, a clamour and a roar that seemed to echo through the void of space itself. What emerged into the quiescent space about one of the Consolidated worlds was a massive ship-form, capable of holding millions within its enormous bulk. This was the Designated Exploration Vehicle, DEV, When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Microsingularities. It hovered, silent, ponderous, drinking in the in-system data traffic with the practiced patience of a saint.

"So, we picked up these signals, these missives, and decided to poke our noses in?" The mans voice, silky and delicate as it was, was tinged with a tenuous affectionate amusement. "We've diverted course to look in on some race just nosing it's way into the galactic stage. Makes me feel like the alien blunderers of our first contact." He chuckled now, fingers closing lightly around a long thin glass before raising it to his lips, his eyes flickered up to regard the star-fields about them and the world itself, displayed on one of many vast hovering screens.

I thought you'd be pleased. Who doesn't enjoy a detour? Who doesn't like a party The shipbrains voice coasted about him, drifting from everywhere. It was the hypersentient mind of the ship giving voice to it's desires and it's reasonings. It was a welcoming and loving construct, a machine-intelligence built by others of their kind. They were as much a part of Myenya as the millions of humans who inhabited the Sphere of their influence, not on any singular world, but on orbital habs, ships and custom built environs. They would not be despoilers and reavers upon the natural, this they had sworn when they had plateaued at a level which left them able to avoid such wanton destruction.

"I take it you'll be conveying your own missive?"

Of course. I'll send a message reassuring them that I come in peace, that my name is an ironic statement of fact and that they need not scramble their likely overcompensatory military forces. We have established that most everyone here has them, right?

"Indeed..." He frowned lightly, remembering the discussions bandied about back home, talk regarding the need for defence. The admission that warship designs existed somewhere in the torrid subconciousness of various minds, the revelations of the potential for the NEM...Necessary Evil Mobiles.

Very well...Transmitting message to all available communications frequencies.

Greetings people of the Consolidated Worlds, please don't be afraid.

This is the shipbrain of the Myenyan Designated Exploration Vehicle When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Microsingularities, currently on an extended tour of the local star cluster.

We were fortunate enough to pick up some of your local transmissions and decided that we would poke our heads in for a nosey. I am the shipbrain of the DEV, a hypersentient machine construct possessing full citizenry rights.

I look forward to engaging you more directly.

How was that?

Captain Martre Pythox smiled gently as he looked up at the slowly turning orb, imagining the limitless possibilities that lay within it, as they did within every terminally inhabited and woefully mistreated orb in the skies, save the deadest of worlds and inviolate Myenya.

"Wonderful start."

After pulling out from the Arcadia system, the UFP had naturally taken a large selection of its military assets with it. Once the base of operations for a task force of the Third Fleet, the Starfleet contingent had headed back across the border into what remained their own territory several days earlier. All that the newly-formed Federation of Consolidated Worlds was left with for its own defence was an under-equipped local militia, several squadrons of air- and orbit-capable fighter aircraft, and a pair of localised tracking stations at either pole. To put it bluntly, the FCW had very little in its arsenal to keep the curious or the potentially hostile from appearing in the Arcadia system whenever the chose; a point that was about to be proved quite bluntly with the arrival of Myenya starship in high orbit above Arcadia IV.

The Joint Military Command (JMC) was a bunker buried deep underneath one of the mountains that ranged north of Arcadia Prime, the capital city of the planet and now of the FCW. Installed by the UFP as a central command centre for its Arcadia Task Force, it had the capacity to relay instructions, interpret data and monitor starship traffic in the Arcadia system in order to provide the local Starfleet garrison with all the information needed to defend itself. Fortunately, the FCW had managed to negotiate with the UFP not to gut the place of equipment before pulling out, and it had quickly been converted into the new command centre for all military forces in the Arcadia system. At the moment, it was getting a lot of use.

Admiral James Winchester, his newly designed uniform still creaking from little use, stood at the centre of the spherical Command Centre (CC) and watched the viewer with a grim expression. The Command Centre was the main proportion of the JMC, covering four decks and layered on all sides with various computer screens that could show separate pictures or cooperate to form larger viewscreens. At the moment, the CC was bathed in red lighting as the several of the viewers on the upper levels showed a wireframe tactical display of Arcadia IV with the unexpected visitor in high orbit. Other symbols displayed the location of air and ground units on Arcadia IV, along with its two moon colonies, Luna and Emerald. As of now, it did not look overly promising.

Admiral Winchester had been a Starfleet officer for most of his life. Arcadia by birth, he was one of a small group of indigenous flag officers that had elected to stay and form the High Command structure of the new FCW military forces. As the highest ranked officer in the group, Commodore Winchester had become an Admiral overnight, the Star Navy’s Vice-Commander in Chief and Officer in Command of the JMC. A lifetime of defending his home against attack had made him proud of Arcadia’s resilience; at the edge of UFP space, it had been required to repel pirates, smugglers and opportunist alien raiders for several years. However, that had been with the might of the UFP at its back. Now, as Winchester turned his head to watch a real-time video feed of the alien vessel shown on another viewer, he felt a mixture of anger and fear at how easy it had been for this visitor to appear so close.

Winchester brought one hand to his headset and switched the microphone to transmit. “This is Command, what’s our status?”

The response was almost immediate, as one of the operators on the lower decks checked their information. “Command, this is Air Force, we have all orbital interceptors on high alert and Squadrons 1 through 3 scrambling to holding stations.”

Winchester snorted in a deprecating manner. Even if the aircraft were at their holding patterns for attack, a ship already in orbit could easily blast them to pieces before they reached orbital altitude. Once again, he sorely wished the Miranda’s leased from Starfleet were turning up faster than in the next few days.

“Command, this is Communications, we have an incoming transmission,” a voice crackled through on Winchester’s headset. He looked across to one of the operators nearby and nodded. The rating turned to his console and transferred the message through to the wall-mounted speakers.

“Greetings people of the Consolidated Worlds, please don't be afraid. This is the shipbrain of the Myenyan Designated Exploration Vehicle When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Microsingularities, currently on an extended tour of the local star cluster. We were fortunate enough to pick up some of your local transmissions and decided that we would poke our heads in for a nosey. I am the shipbrain of the DEV, a hypersentient machine construct possessing full citizenry rights. I look forward to engaging you more directly.”

Winchester raised an eyebrow as he listened. “Well, at least they seem friendly,” he muttered, although an element of doubt still sat within his mind. Turning to one of the console operators, he asked, “Is the President still connected?”

The rating nodded. The President had been monitoring the situation from Arcadia City since the vessel’s arrival overhead. Winchester thought for a moment, then walked over to the operator’s shoulder. “Send a copy of the message direct and ask for further instructions.”

The operator nodded, manipulating the console to carry out the order. Winchester turned back to the main viewer and folded his arms. “Put me on a live channel with our guests, please,” he said, watching the tactical display once more. After a few seconds, the rating nodded again, and Winchester licked his lips. “This is Federation Joint Military Command, Admiral James Winchester speaking.” The Admiral hesitated momentarily, not sure what to say next. In all reality, the aliens probably had the planet exactly where they wanted it. Provoking them would not likely be wise. After a moment, he said, “Please standby for further instructions.” Then he signalled to the rating to cut the channel, and rubbed his face in an exasperated manner. “Let’s hope this works out,” he muttered to himself.

"Please standby for further instructions"

Indeed. It's...Well, demeaning in a manner. I'm not entirely happy.

"I can imagine. Even I don't get to tell you what to do."

Perish the thought, free and open voting rules this ship, wonderfully ingrained, implanted and instantaneous. You're all so wonderfully inquisitive anyways, even before the little affair about Myenya herself. Always wanting to see, to know.

"Call it a quirk of being human. We're not as educated or as prolifically pervasive as you, so we make do with what we can learn ourselves."

Even with your wonderfully fair and open educational system back home, you still want to know more...It's moments like this, Martre, that I know why we keep you lot around

"Interesting meat diversions?"

That, and friendship.

"You humble me, old friend" A sly grin, the hint of laughter blossoming from his pale pink lips. He raised a finger to tap at them, his other hand toying about a lock of thick black hair, knotting it around one finger. "So, what would you recommend?"

I could do tricks!

"No..."

Not even a little one?

"No."

I should probably mention that I'm actively scanning and imbibing their existing datafeeds and networks, just learning a bit about them. Could be interesting.

"Discretely I trust?"

Oh but of course. Not like I'm probing anything sensitive, just listening to the birds.

The ship held position, utterly unmoving, it's hull gleaming light blue in the reflected starlight and the world-glow. It was a wonderfully crafted engine of staggering brilliance, built to house and act as body for a truly unique and singular intellect. Each brain was it's own person, a unique personality constantly altered and recoded. Their programming was as individual as human genetic code, and infinitely more malleable.

It waiting, listening and pondering, while the humans who lived upon and within it gazed out from windows or through screens, and beheld a new civilisation.

Waiting. was the only follow-up message canted back to those who dwelt below.

“Peaceful, did you say?”

The Presidential Office was a large, rectangular affair built directly at the heart of the Capital Building. Previously the Governor’s Palace, it now flew flags of the FCW from its masts, the newly-sewn fabric fluttering in the bright sunlight, the prospects of future adventure and prosperity beheld in the hearts of all Arcadians who saw them.

That required, President Alexander Maximillian reflected, the FCW to still exist in ten minutes time. He sat behind the large, oak-panelled desk and watched the tense expression of Admiral Winchester. The viewer on the opposite wall crackled momentarily, and the President shot an irritated glance at one of his aides, who shrugged unhelpfully. They were still working a few kinks out of their newly acquired communications network. When the screen came back up, Admiral Winchester continued speaking. “So far as we can understand, sir,” he said calmly. In the background, the President could see ratings and military officers running back and forth as they operated various consoles in the understaffed JMC. Alexander sighed; they had a long way to go until they were fully operational. Winchester continued. “You’ve heard their statement, sir. I can’t add anything further to that, except to say we’re likely to be vastly outgunned at the moment.”

President Maximillian sat back in his chair, thinking hard. The aides in the room looked around nervously. The vessel in orbit was likely showing up on civilian air traffic control radars by now, and it was likely the local press would be baying at the door within the hour. After a moment, Alexander sat forward again. “We don’t appear to have much choice here,” he said carefully. “It seems we either take them at their word or risk annihilation.” Alexander looked around the room. “Let’s hope their intentions are what they say they are,” he muttered. Then, to the viewer, he said, “Admiral, I want you to relay an invitation for a first contact meeting at Thorpewood Air Force Base.”

The Admiral nodded. “Yes sir, I’ll relay the message now,” he said.

The President nodded, turning to his aide. “Alert the transporter room I’m coming,” he said, and then turned back to the monitor. “After all this is done,” Alexander continued. “We’re going to have a serious talk about local system defences, Admiral.”

Winchester smiled grimly, nodding in agreement. “Definitely, sir,” he said. Then he saluted, and the viewer went blank.

Shortly afterwards, the JMC began broadcasting once again. “Myenyan Designated Exploration Vehicle, this is FCW Military Command. We formally invite a delegate of our crew to attend a meeting at the following coordinates with a high level member of our government. Welcome to the Federation of Consolidated Worlds.” And with that, the coordinates were uploaded.

We thank you for your hospitality, Military Command. My captain, Martre Pythox and a drone-form acting as my avatar shall attend you presently at the coordinates given.

The module was a small ship, sliding free from the vast DEV like a tight capsule. Bigger and longer than a bus, it slid through the void and popped through the atmosphere towards its destination, hull not even glowing red as it lowered through the air of a new world. Fields roved and pulsed about it, intricate arcs of color and light shimmering as an affectation.

"You think they will be friendly?" Martre brushed a hand along the front of his black uniform, his jacket open to reveal a simple black body suit. He turned his attention to the hovering drone-form, a gleaming silver tear drop, utterly seamless, seemingly eyeless and featureless. It's aura-field glimmered a bemused red.

"I'm sure they'll be wary, but we can afford to be comfortable in this situation. Backed up before we left, didn't you?"

"I did, yes. Though I'm still confident things won't be reduced to barbarism."

"You obviously didn't read the reports on the Greywatchers"

"Oh I picked up on the basics. Hardly the same though, is it? What are the chances they'll be similar malcontents?"

"Never know."

The vessel touched down, nestling upon the landing field in the Air Force Base with nary a sound. A door seemed to slide open as though from no where, a sudden abscence in the fabric of the thing. The drone hovered out, turning as though regarding the scene. The human male followed after it, his hair tousled by the light wind. He sighed softly, breathing it in, drinking in the scent of it. He crouched, squatting down to run his fingers along the hard ground beneath him.

He straightened, smiling softly.

"Shall we?"

Chief President Prometheus had just returned from a two week vacation following the second run of Galactic Senate races that had bolstered the Federal Parties control. Everything for the past two decades of the Galactic Federation's isolation had been running smoothly, foreign trade at an all time high with current friendly and neutral neighbor's. Prometheus had thought about bringing the Galactic Federation back into the Galactic scene some time ago, concluding in a council of his Staff that it would have been useless due to the peace in Anagonia's sector of the galaxy. Nation's were forming, military's were being downgraded or bolstered, and everything seemed to point to a time of universal tranquility. Aside from the usual happenings of Anagonia's neighbors, nothing hinted towards the need for the economic and military might of the Galactic Federation to intervene and push the evolution of nations towards something better.

In his own opinion the evolution of societies should be left alone in favor of the further development of one's home nation. For the two decades of silence, Anagonia had been doing just that. Border planets had been experiencing Golden Ages recently, having tourism and economic gains at an all time high. The Military was put into a position of assisting internal trade of the systems and peacekeeping for the minor disputes between Federation Star Systems. There was no hints of rebellion or war's from Anagonia's long-time enemy in the Imperial Remnant. The several Civil War's were all but history to the citizens of the Galactic Federation. Truly Anagonia was prospering in one of its own Golden Age's.

Prometheus sat down at his desk, reviewing the holo-documents as the automated computer brought them up. Behind him windows revealed the massive city of Novaria as the citizens went about their daily life. The Presidents Office was more or less a glorified Oval Room, white in texture and similar in construction to the old White House's Oval Office. Neo-Roman texture and quality seemed to be paramount in Anagonian Governmental Society, Prometheus amused by how organics insisted on repeated the ways of the past. His metallic frame was lit by the holographic display, revealing his body frame to be similar to that of a B-1 Battle Droid. His "people" were recognized throughout Anagonia as Droidekan's, a race of sentient Droids that has existed nearly since Anagonia began eons ago. His election had been historic, the first non-organic species to be elected in official office. But only the news media thought anything of it, everyone else believed Droidekan's deserving as much recognition as themselves.

After pondering for a while the holographic reports finally came to an intelligence briefing of a new nation being formed. Prometheus carefully read through it, deciding that in this case it would be proper to send Anagonia's greetings to a new nation. Perhaps he'd add something extra, as military equipment and ships were indeed in the surplus. He started writing an Interstellar Transmission to the new nation in questions without delay.

Official Message of Goodwill and Intent
The Galactic Federation of Anagonia

To: The Provisional Government of the Consolidated Worlds
From: Chief President Prometheus - Galactic Federation of Anagonia

It is with great delight that I send my nations Greetings to your new founding. I am pleased to state that I with all power invested unto me by my People do hereby recognize your independence and your statehood. I would like to extend an offer of Goodwill, Trade, and the possibility of a Non-Aggression Pact between our two Galactic Nations. I would also like to extend an offer to possibly loan without payment a few ship's that have been brought into retirement. I understand that most of our fleet is nothing compared to a Miranda, but they would do nicely for system defense against outside aggression.

I hope to hear a reply from you, and know that Anagonia is always here in time's of emergencies for your support.

Goodwill and Good Luck,
Prometheus
Chief President of the Galactic Federation of Anagonia

(OOC: Thanks for everyone's interest so far. Apologies for being lame, but am logging for the night because flu is hitting me a bit hard. Will post next tomorrow morning. Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to everyone.)

Thorpewood Air Force Base was situated six miles east of Arcadia Prime, and had served as the main air- and spaceport for officials and dignitaries visiting the Arcadia system during its time under Federation control. Little had changed in the brief time since independence, the new flags overhead and the faded outline of the removed Starfleet logo on the main building the only main sign of change over the entire complex. Comprising two long landing strips and a pair of hexagonal landing pads, Thorpewood was surrounded on all sides by high tritanium walls that kept the prying public and media on the outside. Very soon they would likely be doing precisely that job.

Captain William Thomas eyed the Myenyan landing craft with caution, the fingers on his left hand drumming habitually against the barrel of his phaser rifle. A former member of the locally-raised Starfleet Marine Corps, and now with literally a change in uniform the Federal Militia, he had spent most of his life defending his home system against pirates bandits, invaders and smugglers of both the human and the alien kind and had subsequently developed an understandable level of caution against newcomers of any species. It had been a hard enough job with an entire Marine Battalion and a Task Force of starships to assist. Now, it was nigh on impossible until the FCW military got on its feet, and the Captain got the impression that may take a while.

As the two crewmembers on the landing craft left its confines, William nodded to his platoon, who promptly filed up in two lines behind him. Taking a deep breath, he advanced across the tarmac towards the landing craft, hesitantly shouldering his rifle in an ordered show of good faith. Once he was within a few metres of the two arrivals, he drew himself to a halt and executed a salute. “Welcome to the Arcadia system and the Federation of Consolidated Worlds,” the Captain said clearly. “I am Captain William Thomas, and my platoon has been given instructions to escort you.” He gestured towards the airbase’s main building across the other side of the runway. “Please, follow me.”

The group walked across the tarmac to the building, and Captain Thomas was forced to remove his uniform beret upon entering despite the air conditioning unit at the entrance. After several moments of progressing corridors, the Myenyan visitors were shown into a well-decorated and comfortable waiting area. Portraits lined the walls of former governors and well-known officials, and photographs and paintings of famous battles involving the Arcadia system over the course of its colonised history had the prize of place. Captain Thomas saluted again. “If you would be so kind as to wait here a moment, please,” he said smartly. “Government officials will attend to you shortly.” And with that, the platoon exited the room, two of which visibly stepped to either side of the entrance and assumed guard positions.

-----

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs operated out of the former Communications Department of the colonial government, located in the centre of Arcadia Prime in the bustling government district. A small, three-story affair built in the standard grey of most Starfleet buildings, the Ministry transmitted and received messages through a large, underground control centre that linked with the planet’s main interstellar communications array at Fort Anderson to the south of the city. It had been relatively quiet so far for the operators working the day shift, with the only communications traffic coming from the UFP regarding diplomatic issues surrounding the handover of the starships and the establishment of a UFP embassy in the newly-independent FCW. So when the message from the Galactic Federation of Anagonia came through, a bustle of excited activity ensured that the message went straight up to the third floor and the office of the Foreign Minister. Emma Su-song was in a meeting with several officials regarding the development of first contact procedures when an aide burst in and lay the message in front of her. The Minister took a moment to read it, and smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said to the room without looking up, “We just officially joined the club of intergalactic nations.”

Emma Su-song was, like many in the new government, both a native Arcadian and former Federation official. Once in command of the same Communications Department that once held residence in this building, she had been chosen by President Maximillian for her expertise and knowledge in local interstellar politics, having coordinated local policies with both alien governments and the central government of the UFP on Earth countless times over the course of her career. She had been overjoyed at the appointment, the chance to stand at the forefront of developing her home system into a great and respected interstellar nation. That excitement surged once again as she read the message. It took only a few minutes of conversation with her counterpart at the Ministry of Defence to get an agreement on the message, and a reply was hastily transferred back to the control centre several floors below.

-----

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To: Chief President Prometheus - Galactic Federation of Anagonia
From: The Ministry of Foreign Affairs - Federation of Consolidated Worlds#

Your Excellency,

On behalf of the Federation, we thank you for and enthusiastically accept your offer of good-will and trade between our two states. The Federation is most eager to carry out the development of friendly relations with other governments as it grows on the international scene. We would also gladly accept the loan of starships from your government for the defence of the Arcadia system as we organise our own military forces.

We would like to arrange for a high-level member of your government to meet with a counterpart from the FCW to hammer out the details of this arrangement. Might I humbly suggest myself and your own Foreign Minister to meet?

The Federation looks forward to hearing your reply,

Emma Su-song
Minister of Foreign Affairs - Provisional Government

OOC: Just a few weeks ICly after Annihilation, for reference on time frame. And no, I'm not really planning on attacking. But as a swarm of world eating monsters, how else could I drop in and say hi, but to warn you against me?

IC:In addition to all the normal sentiments of goodwill from all the standard aliens one found around the galaxy, something, else, heard their transmissions, and the subsequent activity guided them like a beacon to their next destination...

Meanwhile, a small one-man craft appeared in orbit around the world.

"Greetings, I am Doctor Yamato Nasagori, newly appointed head of The Inter-Galactic Science Consortium's Swarmling Research Division, and I'd like to welcome you to space, infact, I'd like to visit with you personally if I could." Came the audio only broadcast.

OOC: As a note to every other NS player, Anagonia is similar in FT as it is in MT based on its provisional systems. So you may see some similarities.

Drekamythian Sector - Planet of Imperius

The sprawling Imperial Homeworld was lively and full of activity this time of day. Imperius' Sun, Emperius, shined brightly down on the surface of the world. Prometheus was busy visiting local delegations after last week's debacle over internal trade. The story was a long one, but the resolution was swift and ended all debate over the subject. Once Prometheus set foot on Imperius and decided on a course of action to take, everyone fell in line and followed. He was glad for this, but in the back of his mechanical mind he despised the fact they didn't resist his opinions. He stood his full frame of six feet for a holo-shoot with the local delegation, then swiftly exited saying his goodbyes.

The Starport was a quick drive to the east of the Capital City, followed by a shuttle transport up to the waiting ship. He chose a Grand Army Venator for this trip. The fleet compromised of the Venator, two naval Cruiser Carrier's (http://hawk.proboards1.com/index.cgi?board=gfmc&action=display&thread=40&page=1#352), and four Acclamator-II's to provide pocket defenses should the Chief President be targeted. His travel to the bridge was brief once he docked with the Venator, not concentrating on his surroundings but rather giving brief salutes to those that honored him. His metal feet clanked on the floor as he traveled to the lift, it proceeding directly to the bridge and he walking onto it with the bridge crew standing at attention. He returned their unified salutes, they all going back to their duties, and his concentration came to the Captain.

Anagonia was comprised of various species from many worlds. Chief among them were the reptilian Komodren and Raptorians that complimented mainly the Colonial Marines. Standing before him, however, was the pick of the lot that comprised the Army in general. A human about five feet and five inches, built average with a shaven head hidden by his standard Army Outfit (http://hawk.proboards1.com/index.cgi?board=gfmc&action=display&thread=38&page=1#113) of the Katarn-class. Obviously the Captain enjoyed the flexibility of the Commando Armor with its plentiful additions to any warrior's capability. The Captain took off his helmet and attached it to his standard backpack, revealing a face about forty-two years. His eyes were a dark green, and his stature reassuring to those around him.

"Chief President," Captain Walker O'Brak said in greeting to Prometheus, "I believe your stay went well?"

Prometheus responded in his usual droid-like tone. He himself having a bronze-colored armor, worn well after the long lifespan he endured. "Of course, Mr. O'Brak. Has anything occurred during my absence?"

"Yes sir," Walker responded with a nod, "I believe some foreign entity has replied to a previous message you must have sent them." His free hand revealed a Touch-Pad, he handing it to Prometheus. "I believe you'll find it interesting."

Prometheus nodded in thanks, taking the PAD and walking towards the rear of the bridge where a few empty seats were stationed. He rested in one, examining the message, then promptly replying after considering his options.

Official Reply from the Chief President
Galactic Federation of Anagonia

TO: The Ministry of Foreign Affairs - Federation of Consolidated Worlds
FROM: Chief President Prometheus - Galactic Federation of Anagonia

It is with great joy that I receive your reply. Indeed I can arrange for a visit to your wonderful nation. However, I do not believe that a single official from my Foreign Affair's will do during this time. You see, I just finished my rounds in the Galactic Federation securing the continued Union of our Great Galactic Democracy. For now, I am open to visits to other places, and was planning to visit our wonderful Order Temples for an old friend. Yet, with this brilliant change of plans, and the fact that I am already on a mode of transport, I believe I can arrange a visit from myself to formally accept any treaties with all the authority vested into me by my People.

That said, I will await your reply. If you accept, I will arrange for a display of our various ship classes so you may choose at your leisure which grade is most beneficial to your defensive purposes. I look forward to meeting you in person.

Thank you,
Prometheus
Chief President of the Galactic Federation of Anagonia

(OOC: Bump for Myenya's attention.)

Meanwhile, a small one-man craft appeared in orbit around the world.

"Greetings, I am Doctor Yamato Nasagori, newly appointed head of The Inter-Galactic Science Consortium's Swarmling Research Division, and I'd like to welcome you to space, infact, I'd like to visit with you personally if I could." Came the audio only broadcast.

Don't forget the doctor now.

OOC: Sorry about the shoddy post, I've been rushed off my feet of late and I couldn't do much in the situation provided :)

Martre smiled thinly as he regarded the armed soldiery who had come to greet and escort them into the facility, noting with a wry amusement that the drones interest had swept over them around the same time, carefully evaluating them all through its cold machine eyes and thrumming drone-mind. It was, for all intents and purposes, the mind of the very ship that bore them across the stars, placed within the drone to facilitate its interactions with human crewmembers and to afford the brain itself a measure of autonomy, able to explore worlds and ship-forms beyond its own self.

They had followed, taking in their surroundings with open curiosity. This was a lived on world, an inhabited orb as once Myenya truly had been. It crawled with life, teemed with sentients and their technologies. To gaze upon such a thing was a new and interesting wonder for any aboard the ship, for though they had trod on foreign soil before, they had never been guests of a planet-bound race.

Martre nodded lightly the guards as they left, pacing about the room, examining the portraits and the fittings, brushing a hand idly under his chin. His pale skin shone in the light, his well-trimmed nails curled into his palm as he stroked his knuckles along his jaw, clicking his tongue in idle ponderance.

“Impressive so far.”

“Quite, though they do seem to enjoy keeping us waiting.”

“Protocol, I'm sure. Procedure. Let's just make ourselves comfortable.”