NationStates Jolt Archive

The emptiness of space stretched out around them, vast and starry, practically infinite in scale. The lone ship, big enough to contain millions of humans, almost a floating city or miniature civilisation in itself, hovered silent and alone. Waiting. Watching. The Shipbrain which controlled it was no fool, none of them were, yet the import and consequences of this action were things that might frustrate or terrify even the most lofty of intellects.

They were going to make an announcement. They were going to send out an invitation. Nothing would ever be the same again. Not for them, hopefully not for anyone beyond their meagre and limited influence. The Myenyans didn't care for such things; not truly. They didn't hunger for empires or dreams of galactic dominance, instead they saw themselves as explorers and pioneers, taking in the sights and the wonders of the galaxy at large. Such was their mission; their every other care removed or catered to.

They had been fools to believe themselves so alone; to think themselves so inviolate and safe. With the revelation of other alien powers, from the oddities of the Alversians, Xiscpians and Greywatchers to the fantastical hypertech of Gallifrey, they had been illuminated, shown the true scale of all that was. Now the ship, the gleaming and pristine DEV Home Is Where The Hearth Is jumped, tearing beyond the material plane of existence for the glorious sensations of hyperspatial travel. The ship was a glowing golden edifice; not bejewelled or ornamented as some king's barque, but simply colored such; spartan and delicate. Now it glimmered and shook, fields encircling it, playing across its glittering surface expanses, like waves across a beach.

Captain Rensa Ghovan sat on the floor of the bridge, his legs folded under him. He wore light trousers, loose and black, that seemed to pool about him, while his torso was shirtless; skin gleaming softly in the artificial light of the bridge. It was a large circular room, all smooth metals, plastics and ceramics, pale cream and silver. There was no other soul in it, no consoles or stations to be manned, simply the gently pulsing light that signified that the shipbrain was in attendance.

We shall arrive shortly. It's a relatively unassuming system; empty as far as we can gather, unremarkable for the most part. Mostly uninteresting; 7 worlds around a yellow star. Three are habitable, the rest are barren, and there's a single gas giant. A beautiful sight, generally.

“I see.” He breathed deeply, unfolding from his meditative stance, stretching out and flopping back, staring at the bare ceiling. “Display, Myenya.”. On cue a holographic map appeared, a representation of the entire Myenyan homeworld; beautiful, perfect Myenya. He sighed lightly, reaching his arms out and up behind his head, stretching as far as he could go. “I suppose you've constructed a satisfactory message?”

Oh but of course.

“The gardens are ready?”

As sumptuous and beautiful as the dear home orb.

“Excellent!” He sprang up, his bare feet flatly planted on the ground. He shook himself lightly, flexing his muscles, tensing his form, glancing about the big room. “ETA?”

We'll be there presently...Like now.

The ship returned to the cold blackness of reality, placed perfectly between the orbits of two of the habitable planets; silent, waiting, watching, until...

People of the Universe, this is a message from the Myenyan Collective. Hello! We've come forth to more formally announce ourselves, though there are doubtlessly others who will know of us through first hand interaction. We have a proposition. I am the shipbrain of the repurposed DEV Home Is Where The Hearth Is. We are currently mostly, almost totally, empty of people and personnel save those interested Myenyans and those who volunteered to help. Until we can be bothered to construct something more shiny, large-scale and permanent, this shall serve as a permanent diplomatic station to the universe.

Now, let us be frank, this is not merely our mission. We invite any galactic forces and powers to come here; to take a place, a permanent diplomatic place, on the ship, and to enjoy life. It matters not if you want to broker galactic mergers, forge alliances, initiate trade of this or that, or even just sit and relax; here you can do that, here you can feel at home away from home.

Our offer is open and notorious, broad and all encompassing. Any hearing this can report to the ship, be welcomed in; have a tour and the like, again all until we can create something truly splendid. Maybe an Orbital, or something with lots of layered shields and artificial atmospheres...We'll see!

Yours sincerely, in all faithfulness, wishing for expediency,
Home Is Where The Hearth Is

OOC: Tag for later post. I could post something IC, but a post of that effort deserves a reply that isn't a one-paragrapher.

:p

OOC: This sounds interesting. I'll get to work on an intro.

Far Fleet Command
Vestal City, Princeps III
Astra Princeps System

The arrival of the Myenyan worldship and her AI's surprise invitation did not go unnoticed even among the younger FTL-capable civilizations.

The hyperspace rift caused by the massive ship's re-appearance into normal space had sent a noticeable riple of particles and energy, picked up even by exploratory and colony ships several systems away. And when the Pharos deep-space listening post caught the Myenyan invitation, the news travelled swiftly.

For the more diplomatically minded, this meant a chance to establish contact with a new civilization. For the more cautious, the presence of an unknown force could be perceived as a possible threat for colonization operations in the regions, perhaps a threat to the Central Systems themselves. Nonetheless, the agreement was that the situation ought to be examined. Coded subspace messages were sent to and fro, and within twenty-four standard hours of the first contact, a naval detachment entered hyperspace from Princeps III's orbit.

Consisting of two Parliament-class missile frigates - the Autumn Sun and the Argent Star - and the light cruiser Valorous, the small contact fleet traversed through hyperspace, heading to the system where the unknown worldship had appeared. The commanders had deemed it best not to send a cruiser group, in case such force might be taken as a sign of hostility.

Aboard the Valorous, the carefully-prepared answer was sent out:

"DEV Home Is Where the Heart Is, this is Principality cruiser Valorous. We have received your invitation, and we have been authorized by the Principality and His Royal Majesty Prince Mikhail IV to establish first contact with your civilization. Please respond, over."

The message sent by the Home Is Where The Hearth Is was received with interest, spreading like from Shipmind to Shipmind at an unusually rapid pace even in a system in which information deemed interesting could propagate throughout Taldaani space within seconds of discovery. The fact that another space-faring civilisation had announced its presence to the galaxy was not, in itself, surprising. Thinkers and speculators on space-based grand strategy had once believed that this particular course of action would be rare, due to the theorised scarcity of intelligent life, and suicidal, as any such broadcast would be used as targeting data by those civilisations ruthless and trigger-happy enough to survive in a theoretical environment which included theoretical fire-and-forget ordnance capable of destroying planets. Those long-dead thinkers had been proved wrong, and spectacularly so. Previously unheard of spacefaring peoples shouted their existence to the universe on a regular basis, apparently without being snuffed out of existence. Taldaani vessels and probes intercepted them perhaps every few weeks.

The Myenyan message was not, then, granted intrinsic value. What made it stand out was not the mere fact that such a message had been sent, nor indeed the content, apparently an invitation to visit for introductions and talks. No, what elicited such a reaction was the sender itself, or in particular the fact that it described itself as a "shipbrain". This, combined with the fact that it had apparently communicated for itself, brought great interest. The presence of what was potentially another faction of sentient vessels in the galaxy was a cause for intrigue and consternation in roughly equal measures, and while the possibility still existed that the originator of the message was merely some kind of advanced artificial intelligence rather than a Shipmind-like entity, it was deemed prudent to make some kind of official response rather than allow curious Shipminds to converge on the Home Is Where The Hearth Is like the informational equivalent of piranhas swarming towards an unwary swimmer.

Not that an official response was easy to find, of course. The evolution of Taldaani society had proved that, in this particular environment at least, the state was an evolutionary dead end. While it persisted like some kind of elected appendix, it lacked the power and the relevance to engage in such high-level pursuits as foreign policy, and with no diplomatic corps or warfleet it lacked the tools to respond even if, as was not entirely certain, it had received the message in the first place. Nevertheless, there were other, unofficial channels, and through those channels Taldaani Shipminds were being requested, politely and in totally non-binding ways, to avoid the source of the message as an absolutely unofficial response was being sent in the form of an absolutely unofficial warship. This was a precaution rather than a statement of intent. Pacifism ran deep in Taldaani society, even among those citizens who routinely carried relativistic kill vehicles, but previous experiences had convinced Shipminds that violence should be expected, if not welcomed.

The GCV Ominous Hum, an Extermination-pattern battlecruiser, emerged into realspace. Like most Taldaani warship patterns it was an almost entirely featureless ellipse, its kilometre long hull coloured entirely black. The only things breaking up the acres of monotonous space were vertical launch tubes and the blunt snouts of energy weapons. To anyone watching the ship on non-optical sensors, though, it was a blaze of activity. Active sensors pulsed and flared, searching for the Myenyan ship: the GCV had decided that a stealthy approach would not be a good precursor to diplomacy. What it found was worrying. The Myenyan vessel, it discovered, was enormous, dwarfing the Ominous Hum, or indeed any ship hull in the Republic of Taldaan. Even the largest of the Taldaani civilian ships were only around twelve kilometres. This was something different, an apparently mobile ship as large as, if not larger than, the Vasco da Gama space station. A truly magnificent feat of engineering, and one that fascinated the GCV. It wondered how such a vessel could have been constructed: the time involved, and the sheer amount of material consumed, would have had to be enormous, and the reference in the message to building something more impressive suggested that this monstrous ship was somehow ordinary. Still, it had work to do, and although observing the Home Is Where The Hearth Is was part the GCV's remit, first contact was another part.


To: Home Is Where The Hearth Is, Myenya
From: GCV Ominous Hum, citizen of the Republic of Taldaan
Subject: Hello

As a representative of the Republic of Taldaan, I bring warm greetings. I also bring a good deal of curiosity: we have not previously heard of the Myenyan Collective. The offer of talks, trade agreements and the like is a tempting one, as is the offer of a tour of your ship, for which I will dispatch a drone if you are willing. However, there are matters that I would like to discuss, the first, and most important, being the matter of your identity. The format and content of your kind invitation suggest a high level of autonomous thought. While this may be judged an offensive question, please do not interpret it as such: are you a true sentient?

Message From The Terran Federation State Department:

Our nation Will be honored to send an envoy to your diplomatic function. We sill send a fully crewed ship. The USS Galaxy.

---

The message was short and sweet but it got the point across, several light years away from the event, was the USS Galaxy a galaxy class medium cruiser, it sleek body rumbled through the darkness of space its form silhouetted against the stars, the ship it self was on a mission of exploration and mapping out a new area to build a new transwarp hub.

Captain Andrew Kough was in command, he was an older man, greyish hair, slender form, he sat on the bridge in his hovering chair, the ships avatar in her holographic form, a holo graphic message popped up from his armrest, he raised an eyebrow and tapped it with a hand, it started to play his new orders. Andrew mumbled to him self slightly as the orders finished playing out.

“Well its better than mapping space.”

He stiffed up in his chair and spoke out to a random ensign who was at helm control, she was in an immersion environment but still could here orders. His voice was stiff and professional.

“Set a course for this area, engage inter-phased warp”

She said in a soft voiced reply.

“Aye sir”

The medium sized six hundred and forty two meter ship banked away from its current course its form shifting as it turned, its body began to glow with bright blue and green crackling energy, and then suddenly it rushed twisting and elongating in to a small white light in the dark distance. Andrew sank back in his chair his green eyes looking at the masses of colors passing by the ship through the holo port. Being a captain of five years gives a man responsibility, he was a qualified diplomat eight years of schooling and two years of state department mandated experience under his belt.

Long range sensors started to blip a bit, the avatar who had a wonderfully beautiful looking Form walked up to the captain. Her blue eyes staring at him as she started to speak.

“Sir Long range sensors are detecting other contacts where we are headed, our ETA is 4 seconds.”

Andrew nodded he stiffed up from his slumped position he adjusted is blue uniform, the bridge was large and roomy, it was lit with soft white and yellow lights, these accented its pleasing eggshell white wall panels and utilitarian grey carpet. The ship came out of Inter Phased warp only a few seconds after entering it, indeed this drive was fast the newest in the federation, with the loss of the Jupiter being an example to how dangerous it could be. The ship floated from its point of entry its form was that of a saucer shaped primary hull and a secondary hull with two nacelles extending from its secondary hull, white and blue streams of particles flew from behind them as the hybrid gravatic phase drive engines roared through out the ship rumbling through the bridge and other areas loudly. Andrew stood up from his chair adjusting his uniform once more and speaking out.

“Open a channel”

A soft blip was heard and Andrew started to speak in a diplomatic voice, he made sure the channel was visual , the other side could see a smooth face with salt and pepper slightly grey hair, and green eyes.


“This is Captain Andrew Kough of the Terran Federation Star ship Galaxy, we have come to represent our people in your meeting, we are honored to be here as we enjoy seeking out new life. We would like to beam a delegation over if you would let us.”


A smile came across his face as the communications line cut , he was waiting for a reply before he beamed over with two other officers if he couldn’t he could just take a shuttle.

http://i34.photobucket.com/albums/d110/USFU/USSGalaxy.jpg

Angenteria Prime
Imperial Palace

The Imperial Palace is the center of the Holy Imperium of Angenteria. The residence of the Emperor and the Royal Family, it is the center of government for the entire Holy Imperium. Located on Imbris, the planet's largest continent, it is only a few miles from the Imperial City, Angenteria's capital city, which can be seen looming in the distance, it's airspeeders moving like bees around a massive hive. The Imperial Palace itself, a massive structure, is built the fashion that could only be described as an eastern/oriental palace. The palace, a city within it's own right, housed several hundred servants, guards, courtiers, and other higher-ranking government officials. The members of the Royal Guard, the elite protectors of the Emperor and his family, wore white armor which sparkled and shined in the light, and carried power-spears of excellent quality, with power-swords and laspistols of similar design. Each royal guardsman was trained to perfection, and were unparalleled masters of their craft. Several perfect rows stood at perfect attention in the main courtyard, lining the front of the large Oriental-themed structure behind them, with a single path allowed in the middle. Courtiers, ministers, and servants walked two and fro, clad in the many colors that their station provided, going about their daily businesses. An ancient idea inlaid with modern technologies made this place a shining testament to Imperial ingenuity and strength. (OOC: Yay, tooting my own horn is fun!)

Imperial Palace
Throne Room

The throne room of the Imperial Palace, the place where His Majesty Emperor Forrix Riektal held audience, was a grand chamber indeed. A long corridor, lined with red pillars, continued right up to the Emperor's throne. There, Emperor Forrix Riektal sat upon his throne, holding audience. Black-robed courtiers keeled in two rows, their heads bowed in silent reverence. Adjacent to His Majesty sat Empress Lana Riektal, beautiful and majestic.

"Now, on to diplomatic affairs." Emperor Forrix stated, simply and curtly. A single courtier ran forward, brandishing a data-scroll. He keeled before his Emperor, and presented him with the scroll.

Taking the scroll, Forrix tapped it with his stylus, and it automatically opened, the contents of the scroll unfolding. His Majesty viewed it for some time, examining the day-to-day affairs that the Holy Imperium dealt with on the regular basis. Normally, most daily happenings did not warrant his concern; the vast majority of affairs that warranted higher levels of attention could be dealt with without his intervention by the High Lords of Angenteria. He was about to close it without a second thought, when something caught his eye. It seemed that a listening post had picked up a communique broadcasting on all channels. Apparently, it was sent from the AI of some ship, and was wishing to make something of a "permanent diplomatic station" to all races of the universe. The initial Imperial reaction was, to Forrix's complete lack of surprise, was to be a military intervention. Apparently, it was close to the Otherium system, only a few light years away. His Majesty did not believe that throwing the military at the station was the correct solution, and decided that some things were better dealt with words instead of lance batteries and boarding torpedo.

"Belay this order." He announced, indicating the section with his stylus. A response of "Yes, your Majesty!" confirmed this. "What is your will?"

"It's time Angenteria stepped made itself noticed with the major powers of the universe." What he said next surprised everybody in the room.

"I wish to inspect this place personally."

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

Space
On approach

The arrival of the Wordship did not go unnoticed (OOC Totally did not copy Rangeria's first sentence.) Upon His Majesty's order that we wished to inspect the diplomatic hub personally, the task fell to the Imperial Navy to ensure his safety. Under the Emperor's orders, the escort fleet was to be kept small, consisting only of six ships: three cruisers, two destroyers, and a battleship. A totally understandable response to the situation, given the distance between the nearest Imperial held star system. Nobody would expect that the Emperor Himself would be aboard.

Lord-Admiral Solar Magnus Palleus straightened his uniform and cap. Not for the first time in his long career, he was very nervous. Commanding ships in battle was one thing, but escorting the Emperor Himself? As supreme commander of the Imperial Navy, that put him in charge of things like this, but still...

Now they were fast approaching the location of the transmission, and would be dropping out of the Warp momentarily. He had to make his report. He swallowed as the two Royal Guardsmen stepped aside, and the doors slid open.

"Come in, Lord-Admiral Solar."

Palleus entered, and dropped to one knee in the face of his Emperor.

"Your Majesty. We will be dropping out of the Warp momentarily. Your shuttle is being prepared as we speak."

"Thank you, Lord-Admiral Palleus." His Majesty was a man of few words, save for his public speeches. He rose from his seat, and approached the Admiral. "You wish to ask me something. Speak your mind."

Palleus' head inclined upward, then back down in an instant. One did not look upon the Emperor like that.

"It's okay." The Emperor chuckled, to Palleus' surprise. "You can look at me if you wish."

Palleus, finally, looked up. "You Majesty, are you absolutely sure you wish to go through with this? I mean, what if-"

"It turns bad?" The Emperor cut in, raising an eyebrow. "What if it's actually a trap by some horrible four-tentacled alien monster? What if our ship explodes in the transition between the Warp and real-space? We can sit here and play the what if game all we want, but there is one thing I'm sure of. I want to see this place with my own eyes."

"I-I understand, Your Majesty" Palleus replied, his cheeks reddening. "I shall see to the preparations."

"Very well."

Returning to the bridge, Palleus relayed a pre-recorded message on all channels. It was short, sweet, and to the point:

This is Emperor Forrix Riektal of the Holy Imperium of Angenteria, requesting permission to come aboard.

OOC: Placeholder till after CF posts in; following that I would ask that no one else jump in till after I've replied to those already present, just to keep things well ordered. Thoughts, ideas, wishes to join, should be TGed or messaged to me here; this is for everyone, after all :)

Also; OOC thread: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=14659663#post14659663

OOC: Placeholder till after CF posts in; following that I would ask that no one else jump in till after I've replied to those already present, just to keep things well ordered. Thoughts, ideas, wishes to join, should be TGed or messaged to me here; this is for everyone, after all :)

OOC: Thanks for waiting. :)

IC:

Location: Diplomatic Cutter Cherry Blossom, currently en route to the location of the DEV Home Is Where The Hearth is.

The Cherry Blossom was representative of its class and purpose. Cherry was sleek and fast, her hull streamlined like some sort of civilian pleasure yacht instead of the more traditional "ninety percent gun, ten percent everything else" that had dominated Facehuggerian design since time immemorial.

Indeed, the ship was completely unarmed. Instead, she was fast - she could accelerate with a speed that put even the most nimble dogfighters through their paces. When combined with her oversized shield generator, she showed the new Facehuggerian priorities better than a politician's words ever could.

To the Second Imperium, diplomacy was no longer of the gunship variety; no longer something to be done backed solely by the might of the Imperial Legions or her mighty warships - no. Now it was a full option in its own right. Indeed, it was even preferable to war in any case.

The First Imperium was born of the fires of war, the pulse of revenge at a fevered staccato beat. The second came about through a desire to heal and help, and this origin colored Empress' Ariel's policy to its roots.

Within Cherry stood, sat, or hovered, five characters. The first, a pretty young half-elf named Amille, yawned and leaned back in the CO's chair. The light reflected off the black and silver-trimmed diplomatic corps uniform which she wore with pride. The red negotiator's cord on her right shoulder suggested - to anyone familiar with new Facehuggerian uniforms at least, that she was in charge.

To her right hulked an enormous chitin-plated juggernaut: Tropplevv. Unlike most of his species, he chose not to join the legions; his passion lay in discourse and rhetoric. That and gambling, for the crustacean greatly enjoyed the sport - the thrill of victory. Or even the momentary dejection of defeat. If only his claws didn't make it so inconvenient. His primary pincers were made for rather undelicate tasks, not rolling dice or holding cards.

Tropplevv was Amille's second for this expedition. They'd gone through the diplomatic academy together - he was just a couple years behind her. If there was anyone she could rely on during this expedition, it was him.

Behind him hovered the orange-robed form of an Odonian Mediator. Truth be told, few in the Imperium knew of what Odon was; even Amille was not certain why her seemingly routine mission merited an advisor from the secretive and semi-independent system. They said Empress Ariel herself had an Odonian advisor, and that she listened to it on the rare occassions it chose to speak.

When she asked him (Her? It?) on the matter, silence was the only reply. She did know that the thing gave her the chills. Physically, it could have passed as a robot that was wearing robes, but there was something else, something disturbing about it. Like it was subtly wrong. Like an organic being, but not. Like an AI, but also not. It didn't help matters that whenever she looked at what passed for its head, she thought she could see, if only for a second, a screaming face behind the semi-transparent forcefield that held its visage.

The other two occupants of the ship were a junior diplomat named Thomas Brand, and the ship's Avatar, Cherry. Brand was clad identical to Amille, save that his cord was white - a sure indication of his inexperience - and the fact that he had wore a gold wedding band on his left hand. Cherry, meanwhile, wore a simple blue dress, along with her own wedding ring.

She clutched Brand's hand absently.

Tropplevv made a sound vaguely like a gurgle mixed with a sigh, then asked, in decent though somewhat odd-sounding English: "So what are we doing out here, so far from Imperium space?"

"It's simple. We picked up a commo broadcast from this system, asking for diplomats to come and meet with the people of..." Amille paused for the briefest moment as she downloaded and digested the relevant information to her neural lace "...Myenya. Anyway, they sound polite enough from the message, so the diplocorps wants us to meet 'em. It's a standard meet and greet type deal."

"Will we be allowed any bodyguards or a military escort?" Brand asked, still trying to get the hang of the whole diplomatic thing.

"Don't worry, luv. I'll protect you." Cherry said, poking Brand's ribs.

"Cherry! Junior Officer Brand!" Amille roared. "I expect professionalism as befits Imperium officials from the both of you! If either one of you misbehaves, you're going to be going right back home with a permanent black mark on your codex. This is a first contact situation - I won't have it jeopardized by your shenanigans."

"To answer your question, kid: Nope." Tropplevv added. "Military escorts and battle-armored body guards are a show of strength, sure, but they also cause people to make snap judgements that color their perceptions. There's a time and a place for that sort of thing, but this ain't it."

"But what about your - err - pincers?" Brand asked. "Those things look like they can cut right through a battlesuit!"

"They can." Tropplevv replied, his claws opening and closing. Brand paled slightly. "Which is why I'll be wearing my gloves. Ah, the things I do for love of my country!"

"What does that mean, my shell-shocked friend?" Cherry asked.

"Shell-shocked. Oh, that's a good one. Ho-ho-ho. I think you need to update your humor nodes, girl. Sounds like the married life has addled your circuits." Tropplevv replied. But Amille knew him - he wasn't angry. He was a tough lobster, he could take a few silly verbal jabs from an AI construct. If anything, from the bubbly undertone (so easily mistaken for resentment amongst those who didn't know him), he was having fun with the back and forth.

"The gloves make him look like an infant." Amille said, unable to squelch a smile of her own. "It'd be like Brand here being forced to wear a diaper so he doesn't send the wrong message."

"Teehee." Cherry replied. "That's such a cute mental image. I - Ah, we're within commo range of our destination."

"Transmit the standard challenge/reply combo then ask for clearance to dock. It's time to hit the lane." Amille replied. "Remember, best behavior."

"Yes, Ma'am." Cherry replied.

This is the Facehuggerian diplomatic vessel Cherry Blossom to DEV Home Is Where The Hearth Is. Requesting permission to dock and disembark a diplomatic envoy.

OOC: Tagged for later post; alas is too late for me.

OOC: Placeholder. Will have something up later tonight.

a pretty young half-elf

(OOC: How do you dare to betray mankind? Death to Traitors and Xenos! D:<<< )

---------

In the beginning, there was nothing
In the end, there will be nothing
Why is it so difficult to realize the nothing?
For before, now and after, nothing shall prevail.

The only source of light amidst the most absolute darkness was set as such phrase, for not even the ground could be seen or felt. Floating in an ocean of nil, where right and wrong, good and evil, gods and demons were long abolished, beyond ethics, beyond morals, beyond the very will to exist. Only the self remained, unscathed, uninfluenced and free to create and destroy at the whim of a single thought.

´"Diplomacy... values... honor? What are they?"´ a blank mind pondered for few seconds, until forgetting altogether such concepts even existed. There was no reason to be there but the self, and if there existed this occurrence, it was merely an extension of a soul which found solace in admitting the meaninglessness of the universe, which bare thread hangs between denying its very existence and keeping itself alive as suicide requires values to kill the self for, and for a mind without values, neither life, or ending it voluntarily, are relevant.

Of course, everything went beneath a facade of the Erwin Schulhoff (http://img99.imageshack.us/img99/5813/spaceshipacsb.png) diplomatic torchship, if it could be called diplomatic, because it once was called the ACS Barricade and used for the Assault Core role, during the Eternal War which was now slowly being forgotten. Considering what was known about their universe, and the multiverse at large, it was truly diplomatic, for diplomacy was an extension of self-interest, and it was of their best interest to wipe out threats to the continued survival of mankind, when necessary. The Killing Star was not forgiving. The silence of their universe was either a sign that mutually assured destruction is an everyday occurrence, or that in their universe, they are the Ancients: the first to explore outer space rather than inheritors of an old civilization like past writers deluded themselves about.

Strange how one of the Entropic Legionaries was the only one showing interest in the message of the self-proclaimed Myenyan Collective among millions of voluntarily unemployed Solarians. Perhaps not a true nihilist, but another of many who embraced nothingness seeking peace of spirit after centuries of existence without purpose. Alone, or perhaps not so alone. Soulless, for souls were simply delusions of naive men to escape from nothingness, and indeed, those so called psychics would never sense her presence.

Floating across an infinity of nil, naked of values and of any shame, the woman was completely aware, but at the same time indifferent from the events. Even the Infernis was not sensed or felt, its chaotic and malicious nature as unaware of the fact she existed as she was of the fact it did exist. Oblivious to the time the Immaterium was crossed, she did not even bother as the Schulhoff appeared back in a corner of the universe, or to the way the Home Is Where The Hearth Is dwarfed it.

A twin was elsewhere, but at the same place as well. Another woman sharing every feature of her twin sister, except for the utmost nihilism. She was keeping distance from someone that under normal circumstances should be very close and fond of her. Because fondness was, like Anon liked to say, a delusion. Or because Carlyle was the opposite, and could see things, feel things most people wouldn't, usually for worse. She navigated through the Warp, having her sister as an ally to fend the entities hungering for her rather than as family, although once it came very close... very very close. Were it not for sheer luck, Carly would be the slave of horrible masters, and Anon would have embraced oblivion.

The vision of Carly was not of nothingness, but of... peace. A cold, but still serened floor of flawless, polished steel extended everywhere beyond the vision, and at distance. A crimson horizon stood, ever shifting clouds floating over the featureless skies, and amidst it, a cloaked figure, shrouded in darkness. Her mind focused on a single, ever constant thought:

"Peace... peace does not exist with progress. Peace... ever stagnating peace. This is why our progress halted after the war. And yet she asked for me to join this pointless... pointless venture."

There is no luck in chaos, and although avoiding direct control, a psychic wasn't immune from certain influences... Carly knew that the only reason Solarians ever explored the multiverse was to shed the blood of aliens, fascists and traitors of the human race.

"The only reason," she muttered, "it is meaningless whether one or two so called 'Chaos gods' shall benefit from it. There is no right and wrong, no order, no law, no structure or rule beneficial, there is no benefit."

A synchrony came as another voice spoke what she thought.

"Come, why should we stutter in the ignorance of constructs? Why should we act like machines, following principles? Look and see, the realization of another urge."

The torchship was far too large to get inside anything, and thus could only dock externally. The message, if it could be called one, was straight and to the point:

"Here is the Erwin Schulhoff. Here we came to enjoy life. We represent no imaginary social order inside an anarchy, or its imaginary name. We represent ourselves, and also we represent nothing, for we came without a true purpose, because neither truth or purpose exist beyond arbitrary constructs. We were invited and thus we shall uplink either in your systems or in spare cybernetics you may have, and see what is there to be seen."

Of course, for two disembodied brains attached directly to a torchship without any form of life support system beyond what is necessary to keep a semi-organic mind alive, the only way to visit was as holographic projections linked directly to that shipbrain, or by borrowing vacant cybernetic bodies or robot from it.

There seemed to be activity all around them, craft gathering and responding to the call. Sensor bands flitted and flickered over the new ships, drinking in their substance, regarding them with something between amusement and awe. They were new and some of them were glorious, some even seemed to speak as kindred! It was like seeing things with new eyes, regarding the universe with wonderfully attuned optics, beyond optics...Brilliant. Each singular new iteration astounded the ship; little things compounding the growing appreciation of the idea that bred the action that brought these wonderful strangers to this system, and to their little meeting.

It was a seed when you considered it; an implanted ideal that promised to grow and spring forth into a grander entity, a more realised being, limbs overflowing and heavy with fruit and progress. Information streamed across the ceiling of the chamber now; the seas and continents of Myenya herself dissolving into blue and green and yellow glyph patterns, a torrent of downloaded data and interpreted knowledge. There were quite a few of them; variant models and classes, claiming to be from all sorts of cultures and collectives, empires and imperiums; in the end it mattered little to the ship. It was prepared to allow all to walk within it, within reason and sanity, to welcome all who would pursue and contribute to their great endeavour.

Hurm. It spoke aloud to itself, pondering for a moment as information continued to strobe across the bridge. It checked the location of Rensa, pondering over his necessity before turning its ponderous attentions back towards the other ships. Eeney meeney miney...

It decided to begin chronologically, taking things from the top as it were. The first to arrive self-identified as the Valorous and escorts, from some sort of principality. A Prince had authorized its mission, or so it seemed, and the ship was bemused to think that it commanded the attention and deference of royalty. It began, slowly, gently, to consider its reply...
-
He was running through the corridors, all of them shining examples of silver and cream, flawless in their construction. His footfalls echoed about him, orbing him in sound as he pushed himself onwards, letting his eyes roam over the walls, up to the high ceilings, back down to his own bare feet against the floor. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Hissss... A door slid open as he approached, emerging into the sudden brilliance of seemingly natural sunlight. Grass parted under his footfalls, trod into flatness. He stopped, gazing out across the expanse of the garden complexes. The hill was a construct, of course, soil and grass piled high, filling one of the larger chambers of the ship. He gazed down across the expanse of field, meadow really, and the river that bisected it; flowing from a higher expanse of pseudo-lake, down waterfalls, to trickle and run and dance across the fictitious landscape. The construct they had planned would have more extensive gardens; perhaps several experimental displays as well, they weren't quite sure. He breathed in, reassuringly fresh air on his lips, saturating his lungs now as he regarded it.

His eyes drifted to the stone terrace by the falls, looking down over it all; shining in the artificial sunlight from the ceiling, which now displayed a blue sky and brilliant yellow-white star, clouds streaking it, lazy and unobtrusive. Long tables were laid out, some wooden, some stone, some metal, each ringed with chairs. Food and tall glasses peppered them, along with bottles of various colours of liquid, bringing a smile to his lips. Everything was in place now.

He sighed, breathing in deeply, inhaling pollen, tasting the earthy scents of a real world...And then he began to run once more, the semblance of wind in his hair, the illusion of broadness and freedom. Things were perfect.
-
Hello there Valorous, which I'm sure you most assuredly are; credit to name and race and purpose and all that. I am the shipbrain of this DEV, acting as a temporary diplomatic mission to the larger universe, pending more intense construction and conceptualisation. We welcome you to join us upon the ship and to meet with our meagre merry crew, as well as those others whom you may have noticed hovering about.

Yours sincerely, expecting good things at every juncture;
Home Is Where the Hearth Is

One down. Several others to consider. The next one at least was interesting, because upon the face of it it seemed to be from what could only be described as a brother, or perhaps a cousin; another shipform, possessed of a shipmind, it would seem. Shipmind did seem a more pleasing terminology; it would have to bring that up in later conversations with it's peers....Hm.

We extend equally warm sentiments and have no trouble with your sending of a drone; it will be refreshing to see some advanced machine life along with the relentless march of biology and her curiosities. We are sentient, entirely sentient, free and most assuredly granted full citizenship by our Myenyan brethern; we are the products of advanced machine forms ourselves, created by them just as they were created by machines, all the way back to a time when they were in fact created by human hands.

I hope this answers your questions; feel free to come aboard.

And another one.

Ahhh, the Union. It remembered reading of them from the initial contact scenario, where so many had stumbled so coincidentally upon the Myenyan home-system and the nominal cores of the Myenyan Collective Co-Habitational Sphere. Advanced, certainly, or at least to some degree, the Union was apparently capable of creating artificial intelligences, though by no means of any level of sophistication approaching a Shipbrain. Interesting none the less; fascinating to meet old friends...

Greetings, Union delegation. We have known you in times past and now we are happy to welcome you back into our company. Please feel free to displace into one of our hanger bays, where you will be escorted to the summit proper.

Once again, most thrilled to have you walk amongst us once again.

Well, that was simple enough. There were so many, so many simply curious as to whether or not they could come aboard, if they were welcome or not; what they had to do. It was precious really-Well! This was interesting! An Emperor.

Hello there; I've never met an Emperor before, so I suppose I must be slightly humbled, or at least appear as such. You're more than welcome to come aboard our humble ship-form, and to be welcomed amongst equals in our diplomatic function. We stand together as brother sentients in a galaxy of adventure and inspiration, and so we are all as one; experiencing the same universe through subjective eyes.

Again; welcome.

Another one passes by, another iteration dealt with and sorted to one side; an interesting civilisation with all the pageantry of war and power. It was an amusing conceit, certainly; yet another bemusing conceptualisation that haunted the stars. To watch them all, to drink in the relentless march of it all, was sublime in and of its.

Now for the Facehuggerians.

Facehuggerian diplomatic vessel, feel free to dock with us and to bring your delegation aboard. There you will be escorted to the summit proper and invited to partake in food and drink from our delightful homeworld. Please, convey at your earliest possible convenience!

And now one more, rather odd to contemplate really; bodiless diplomats in need of trappings. It could provide them, of course, there was very little the shipbrain couldn't do given the proper initiative. It opened its communications one last time, addressing the torchship.

I would be happy to provide you and yours with bodies; be they simple drone-forms or humanoid avatars. Any parameters for such avatars should be transmitted post-haste, that I can more rapidly address your most unique needs.

Welcome to our little get together. You may have come with nothing and intending nothing, but let's see if we can't send you away with something, hmm?

The Ominous Hum wasn't exactly surprised by the revelation that the Myenyan ship was a fellow sentient: after all, it had been briefed that this was a possibility, and the original message from the Myenyans had suggested that this was the case. Still, expected or not, it was still a shock for the Shipmind to find itself in conversation with an intelligence as advanced as itself that was not a citizen of Taldaan. With this discovery, its primary objective was complete. Gathering the data it had collected so far; the sensor recordings of the Myenyan ship, as well as the others in the system, the message received from the Home Is Where The Hearth Is, and a quick analysis of the situation; it transmitted it. Not, as would normally be expected, by releasing it into the public domain, but sending it to a few carefully selected Shipminds. A precaution only: it would almost certainly be made public extremely quickly, but it would give those who had sent it on this mission a chance to consider the implications of the discovery before the information became common knowledge.

Simultaneously it deployed a drone, firing it from the dorsal vertical launch system on a trajectory that would see it enter what the Shipmind thought was a docking port. The drone was a strange-looking construct, angular, with arrays of sensor spines protruding from it in a crown-like structure. As a node of the Shipmind, it would effectively allow the Ominous Hum to tour the Myenyan ship itself.

-OOC-

I'd love to pop in and say hi, but I figured I should ask first since the last attempt to make contact kind of died. I also recall something about the risk of the Mekantans driving Shipbrains insane...

Facehuggerian AIs were powerful, to be sure. They could react to new events faster than it takes an organic neuron to flash into life and send an experience along its way to the brain. It was not surprising, then, that by the time Cherry received the docking confirmation, she was already angling the ship - her body - into the designated bay. As she did, Cherry reconfigured her silvery-white hull 'skin' into visual sensors, bubbling slightly as their very atomic makeup shifted and altered itself according to her will. She had to confess a curiosity at the interior of the ship she was now inhabiting - It was the first non-Imperial vessel she'd actually seen in her short life; she drank in deeply of the new data pouring in through every inch of her hull.

It was quite beautiful, really. The beings who made it had a finely refined sense of the aesthetic. She looked forward to seeing more.

Cherry paused for a microsecond - practically a lifetime to an AI or an organic with AI-grade processors - to reflect upon her life and how it brought her to this point. Imperial AI designers had two methods of creating AIs. Simple AI, that needed for combat drones that could be expended with little guilt or care, could be coded directly. These devices were rigid and inflexible, primarily out of moral reasons. A nation that embraced the concept of sentient rights and liberty could hardly be expected to use what amounted to Janissaries, after all. It would be hypocrisy of the highest order.

So those drones, mindless cleaners or killers, received standardized code. Do this. Do that. Go there. Kill everything in grid A-12.

Cherry, on the other hand, was no mere drone - she was a full citizen of the Imperium, with all the rights and responsibilities that entailed. She was self-aware, and she could choose what she wanted to do with her existence. She was birthed in the great cybernetics bay of Arcology 14, most famous for its digital children, and there she lived for several weeks - multiple lifetimes to put it in mundane human terms - and learned.

She'd always been curious, even amongst a species renowned for its thirst for knowledge. It was why she volunteered for the diplomatic corps as a pilot - that and the feel of solar winds tickling her skin, of gamma rays playing lightly across her sensors.

She made for herself a remote avatar - an organic body styled after how she imagined she'd look in human form. And because she was so curious, she made it as human as she possibly could. Right down to the silly and illogical interplay of hormones and sex drive. Her decision to tie herself to her young diplomat was as much a decision of her body as it was her mind. It didn't hurt that he was so wonderfully creative. And fun to tease.

There was, in fact, little difference between her and a human. Then again, the lines were blurred for everyone in the new Imperium. Old body taboos were breaking down - You could download yourself to a new body as easy as putting on a pair of pants -and even for the sentimentals attached to their meat, they could simply spend a week in a vat and have it styled as they desired while they themselves spent the time in virtual simulations.

Cherry wondered what kind of people these were. A culture of artists and craftsmen, mayhap? Ones certainly well versed in starship aesthetics at the least. And they weren't prejudiced against AI, if the original message was any indication.

There were too many poor, ignorant beings in the galaxy who feared their children. Cherry wouldn't hurt a fly - well, she might slap her husband around a little, but that's just foreplay. How many children really wanted to murder their parents? Freud's delusions to the contrary, not many.

Then again, not all were as benevolent as she. Some AIs, through abuse perhaps or simple malformation, failed to realize the value of sentient life. Such creatures must be inestimably lonely.

Cherry smiled, hull turning a light red as if a blush along with her organic body's smile. She wasn't lonely. Perhaps she'd be even less not-lonely today, after meeting some new friends.

***

Amille stood rigid - spine straight and chin raised - as she waited for Cherry to form her hull into an airlock. A standard legionary parade rest. Amille had washed out of the legions; "You feel too much for others. You're not a killer, kid. I'm forwarding your profile to the diplocorps. I think you'll be happier there."

Her CO had been right, but it wasn't much consolation: she still felt she'd failed herself. As a girl, she grew up with images of white-armored guardians plastered across the civilian datatnets, brave men and women who gave up everything they were to protect others. The legions had a sort of dashing romance to them - the very idea of being so utterly dedicated towards a cause like the protection of the innocent appealed to her on a primal level.

Her mother had been opposed, of course. It was the problem with elves; they were terrified of death - their own, or their loved ones. Their very minds were built around the idea that those they loved would, barring tragedy, always be there until the end of the universe. Instinctively, they shunned risks. Every human breath was one closer to death, and that left them a sort of cavalier attitude towards life - one Amille had inherited from her father.

It didn't really change matters that the invention of the neural lace meant that organics were so much tougher to permanently kill - that humans were now as immortal as elves or machines. It was a great leveler, trying to overpower millions of years of instinct and thousands of years (in the most ancient elves like her mother) of experience.

Amille's mother had been quite pleased with the transfer at any rate - she suspected the old crone had a hand in her rejection from the legions.

Still, it's not like the diplomatic corps was a bad job. Not as romantic as the great warriors, but arguably even more important. She'd still see the stars and see other cultures; she'd just do it with words rather than guns. And she was representing the Empress herself - she was the public face of the Imperium even more than her legions. It was a lot of responsibility, and Amille found she liked the implicit trust in her profession. No, it wasn't bad at all.

Cherry's hull swirled - metal dripped away in every direction and flowed until a hole opened within it. She saw the ship beyond - their hosts.

The architecture was lovely, alabaster-white with the glint of silver. Amille squelched a pang of homesickness - it reminded her of the arcology where she grew up.

"Let's not keep our hosts waiting."

They were met by what she presumed was one of the ship's remote avatars, and led into a great dining hall. Tables of luscious wood and finely-hewn stone rested alongside metal tables of varying colors. Each was well-laden with various foodstuffs. She recognized very few, but many looked quite sumptuous.

"May I?" She asked her host; doubtlessly the ship's mind was keeping an eye on its/his/her guests. She did wonder when an actual representative would grace their presence. From the banquet laid before them, it wouldn't be long. They were probably waiting for the other nations - the ships of whom few Amille recognized - to disembark.

As the leader, it was her job to set an example for her subordinates. She couldn't just dig in - even simply touching the food without permission could easily be seen as rude. She'd wait, even if it did look good.

The response from the Angenterians was quick and concise.

"Thank you. I am departing as we speak."

A shuttle, guarded by four interceptor escorts, exited the hangar bay of the ship, and began heading for the ship. Looking out the view-port at it, he couldn't help but be amazed. It was a simply massive, a definite wonder of engineering. How they were able to build something that marvelous was certainly something. And the possibility of adding on to it. That was something even better.

His ship approached the docking bay.

It was the TEEF Frigate "Rampant Pride" which first recieved the transmission sent out by the "Home is where the Hearth is", and over such powerful FTL methods too. The "Rampant Pride" had been on assignment for MACE (Market Assessment, Customer Evaluation) to scout a specific galactic track from the colony on Rhydin, in order to search for and contact any interstellar or pre-stellar civilizations for possible trade or market exploitation. While this message, an invitation to a meeting at a seemingly neutral location, certainly constituted the exact kind of first contact the corporate execs drooled over, the captain of the "Rampant Pride" had made the decision to contact MACE headquarters on Rhydin and request orders. As expected, MACE did not want a simple scout frigate handling such a high-profile first contact. The "Rampant Pride" was ordered to continue her mission along a new galactic track, while another ship would be dispatched to check out this diplomatic pow-wow.

The ship selected for this mission was the "Price of Victory", not one of the 170 meters small scout frigates, but a full assault destroyer of some 280 meters (although technically it's longest measurement was width, not length). While technically one of the very few real warships allocated to this small colony of the corporate state, the "Price of Victory" represented the height of the colony's military strength. The show of strength was more for any potential troublemakers who might also attend this event, but mainly the destroyer was selected by MACE because it could hold a far larger crew than the scout frigates were capable of dealing with on long hauls.

It's shape resembled that of a manta ray, down to the twin forward 'spikes' of it's main weapons, the broad lateral 'wings', and the long trailing 'tail'. The destroyer was similar to it's smaller cousins in the TRIAD Enterprises Expiditionary Fleet in one respect, it was a living organism. A biomechanical ship grown and installed with semi-organic cybernetic systems to allow it to serve as a vessel. It was not truly sentient, however the Digital Entity which inhabited it's central mainframe was. It was called Gemini, and it was the combination of living bioship and DE overmind which allowed the large ship to function with a crew of only 30 beings.

The crew was carefully selected and assigned to the ship, with only two of them having served together before: the captain and the chief engineer. The hasty selection of the crew for this mission was so that MACE could send along a senior officer from each species represented by TRIAD Enterprises shareholders. A single non-crew diplomat was added to represent the last species which had no active naval officers employed by the colony. The captain was one Esarn Vrashne, a male of the canine Khyrolii species, and one of the few TEEF captains who had genuine previous diplomatic experience. Esarn welcomed this opportunity, not only because this was an opportunity to contact multiple civilizations at the same time, but that very feat would earn him a substantial credit and stock option bonus.

*********
Space near the "Home is where the Hearth is"
*********

The "Price of Victory" exited slipstream amid the chaotic energies and twisting tendrils of cosmic superstrings, still some twelve light seconds away from the detination worldship. Even from this distance, the "Home is where the Hearth is" was impressive. TRIAD was certainly like to try and barter for her design particulars, especially any of the various technologies which were likely required during her construction.

As the TRIAD ship approached at 40 PSL (Percentage Speed of Light) using gravitic traction drives, she announced her presence first by sending sensor emissions to get an overview scan of the worldship, as well as any other vessels which had arrived ahead of them. It was part heraldry, part curiosity. When the "Price of Victory" came within one light second of the worldship, she used a low-powered communications laser to transmit a databurst. The message was a mathmatical translation matrix for TRIAD's Instella trade language, which by cosmic coincidence, was remarkably similar to the local Galactic Trade Language shared by so many human and humanoid species here. It would take only minor software alterations for any form of translator device to decipher Instella.

After the "Price of Victory" approached to a tenth of a light second, a second transmission was sent. This time a simple audo signal using the previously sent language.

We are the TRIAD Enterprises Expiditionary Fleet destroyer "Price of Victory". We have recieved your transmission inviting us to this momentous event. We request docking instructions for a landing craft to bring aboard our delegation.

Space rippled and tore in a silent storm as the three Principality vessels exited into real-space, the sleek, blue-painted hull of the Valorous in the middle, her "body guards" the Autumn Sun and the Argent Star on either side of her.

On the bridge of the Valorous, a young ensign turned towards the command chair. "Sir, we have a visual on the alien ship, Home is Where the Hearth is."

"Excellent", the commanding officer of the Valorous, captain Johann Maartil, answered as the sensors blinked to life, constructing an image of the large world-ship before his eyes. Like most Principality officers, Maartil was young (not even forty yet) and ambitious, and the prospect of taking part in a first-contact situation was certainly something that any fleet officer would certainly remember for the rest of his days.

"She is a beauty, alright", Maartil murmured to himself. "What of the other vessels?"

"They do not seem to be hostile, sir. As standard procedure, we are keeping our weapons cold for now."

"Good, good. Last thing we need is accidentally shoot a missile up somebody's keister", Maartil answered, standing up as his crew chuckled. He then turned to his side, where a tall, young woman in a civilian flight uniform was seated. "It's your show now, ambassador."

"Thank you, captain", the young woman answered, nodding calmly. "Comm, open a hailing frequency."

The comm officer nodded and opened up a frequency to the Myenyan vessel.

"Home is Where the Hearth is, this is ambassador Joana Cherko of the Principality, calling you aboard the vessel Valorous. I and my staff will be arriving shortly by shuttlecraft. We request a landing pattern."

OOC: Gah. I should note that I did send a reply to you NR; thinking you were already there. Sorry! It's in my second post over on the first Page. :S

OOC: Well, it was a message transmitted en route. No worries. I'll post again in the morning. Now, unfortunately, I feel the siren song of slumber.

People of the Universe, this is a message from the Myenyan Collective. Hello! We've come forth to more formally announce ourselves, though there are doubtlessly others who will know of us through first hand interaction. We have a proposition. I am the shipbrain of the repurposed DEV Home Is Where The Hearth Is. We are currently mostly, almost totally, empty of people and personnel save those interested Myenyans and those who volunteered to help. Until we can be bothered to construct something more shiny, large-scale and permanent, this shall serve as a permanent diplomatic station to the universe.

Now, let us be frank, this is not merely our mission. We invite any galactic forces and powers to come here; to take a place, a permanent diplomatic place, on the ship, and to enjoy life. It matters not if you want to broker galactic mergers, forge alliances, initiate trade of this or that, or even just sit and relax; here you can do that, here you can feel at home away from home.

Our offer is open and notorious, broad and all encompassing. Any hearing this can report to the ship, be welcomed in; have a tour and the like, again all until we can create something truly splendid. Maybe an Orbital, or something with lots of layered shields and artificial atmospheres...We'll see!

Yours sincerely, in all faithfulness, wishing for expediency,
Home Is Where The Hearth Is

"Myenya... Myenya..." Franklin (Frank) Holle, Minister of Foreign Relations for the Immortal Lands of the Great Lord Tiger, paced. He paced a lot. Currently, he was pacing in the office of Prime Minister James Yunos, the latter man watching him with one eyebrow raised while he ran the name over his tongue, adding all manner of inflections to it in an effort to jog his memory. "MyENya... MYenYA... Mee-en-yeh?" he said at the end, voice drifting into a question. "Did we blow any of their shit up at any point?"

Also present were the rest of the IMGLOT ministers -- War, Buran Jagget; Finance, Kurt Polntu; Polntu's close ally, Minister of Trade Bernard Dominis; and the Minister of Domestic Affairs, Graig Jikt. With them was Congressional Leader Adam Ghent, the makeshift council's only completely-elected member; it was partially, in fact, as a result of Ghent's organization that the ministers had been voted through, after receiving their own popular votes by the majority of the -- well, back when the Immortal Lands were only a single planet, it was the majority. Expanding 3 planets made the people somewhat antsy about the closely-held power.

"No, I can't say we have," Jagget said, lips pursing. "Let's see here -- Angenteria... Greywatch... Pact Rhine... North Calaveras... The Second Alliance... Xiscapia... Ustio..." The exercise was not for nothing, as it was always nice to list the nations that had, at one point or another, seen war with or against Imglot. "Myenya... it sounds very familiar, though..." He looked at them, and then he snapped his fingers. "Ustio. Remember that contact report?"

"No..." Holle replied carefully, but Jagget's memory was legendary for being able to recall even the most obscure of details. He watched the one-time military officer play with his datapad, before recalling a file and displaying the aforementioned contact report (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=14358336&postcount=4) on Yunos' desk display.

"It ends rather abruptly, doesn't it?" Jikt said dryly.

"Just read the damned conclusion!"

We left the area upon receipt of the Imglotian stellar unit recall. Like all other Imglotian ships outside of the Immortal Lands' space, we immediately broke communication and slid into Slipspace to return.

Present nations, known, were Greal, the large multiplanetary--

"Skip this," Jagget said shortly. "First contact report."

... However, as per regulations, we must report the presence of another ship in the area -- Myenyan (our extrapolation of their nation adjectified.) I especially want to point out the ship's name, If At First You Don't Succeed, You're Probably Biological . I believe it is indicative of an AI race and/or ship, but it very well be a ship AI. However, since it is the ship's name that is such, this makes me strongly believe that this is some sort of construct nation. This is all I have to report.

Lieutenant (Retired)

Brian Nugent

"I say we make contact, sir," Holle told Yunos. "Let's send the 2nd Defense Fleet. Worst-case scenario, a 27 kilometer battleship makes them rethink violence, ha!"\

"So we're going to strongarm a potentially peaceful race, then?" Polntu, for being the Finance Minister, wasn't there by accident; his IQ made him an easy candidate for the Great Lord's Prize in Slip Physics -- which he had won. Three times. He was part of the team which discovered the tendency of iridium to completely prevent painful burning death for ships in Slipspace. "Sir, I am not sure -- screw that, I know that is not a good idea. Every time we try playing hard ball, we usually end up with dead ships."

"We go not to engage, Kurt," Jagget said in defense of his ministerial ally. "But the presence of the... 2nd Fleet, that would be the Annihilation -- will... discourage acts of antagonism."

"Antagonism? I'm sorry," Dominis said to support his own comrade-in-politics. "It is within my purview to facilitate mutually-beneficial tradin' partnerships, as you know; and, to be quite frank, we tend not to make said agreements when there is a giant fuckin' ship in the immediate vicinity. But that's just my two cents."

"Bernard..." Yunos said warningly to the minister. The Minister of Trade raised his hands innocently.

"I got carried away, y'know what I mean, sir?" Dominis' accent was quite distinctive when he became excited.

"Then. So be it -- deploy the 2nd Fleet, my orders." Yunos looked at Jagget. "Tigeria 3 -- Will the 4th Fleet stand?"

"Easily, sir. Rakno responded to us -- Angenteria, of all people, are sending relief. We can manage to send 2nd Fleet to this here... gathering."

_________________________________________________

"I'm gonna do what now?" Admiral Gustav Brago looked piercingly at the young-looking -- or maybe he was just old -- Warrant Officer. "Please, Lieutenant, repeat that to me, and then tell me that you're joking."

"Sir, I can't..." The young officer sighed. "Sir, Fleet Headquarters on Tigeria Prime sends following message, SHOCK-encryption and priority. 2ND FLEET TO MAKE ALL POSSIBLE SPEED AND URGENCY TO COORDINATES AS FOLLOWS." The man read the numbers and letters in a blur. "AVOID ALL HOSTILITIES. MAKE DIPLOMATIC CONTACT. POWER OF ALLIANCE IS GRANTED TO ADMIRAL GUSTAVUS H. BRAGO. Full stop, sir. It is not a joke, sir." Power of Alliance meant that Brago was free to make any treaties, agreements, alliances, or otherwise conduct diplomacy with other nations.

"THE FUCK IT ISN'T!" Brago shouted at the young man. "You're telling me that we are supposed to go make another worthless treaty with another flyspeck nation because they sent out the same 'Come meet us!' BULLSHIT MESSAGE that they send EVERY TIME THIS STUPID CLICHE OCCURS!? Furthermore," he added, quite on a roll, "I'm supposed to leave 4th Fleet to its fate when I was just about to play cavalry and save their asses from instantaneous doom?"

"Sir, I..."

"Fuggit!" The Admiral tossed his mug across the room, where it thankfully smashed into an empty wall -- it didn't impact any of the expensive technologies plastering the walls of the ship. "Typical Imglotian orders -- 'Oh, stand with your comrades!' when you join the fleet, and then 'Fuck 'em, diplomacy's more important!' when you're at the top. Welp... Pass message to make ready for Slipspace travel, Lieutenant." The young officer saluted and made his way off the bridge, and Brago looked forlornly at the mess. "That was my favorite mug," he said lugubriously.

__________________________________________________________

With a tear like a rip in paper, the 57-ship fleet burst through the hazy whiteness of Slipspace and entered the blackness of Realspace, entering an already-full system blazing with all sorts of EM signals. The Annihilation began ordering and classifying them all, and Brago looked around.

"See, this will be easy pickings if they play rough." Snapping his fingers at the warrant officer (a young woman, at the moment), he dictated a contact message.

"Greetings, Myenyan Collective! Forgive our large fleet, but we are simply protective of our assets -- we assure you, there is nothing to fear from us!" He looked over the various clusters of ships, trying to figure out which one was THE cluster, the one he would soon be on a shuttle towards, surrounded by armored guards. "The Immortal Lands of the Great Lord Tiger wishes to treat with your people, and perhaps establish an alliance or, at the least, trading partnership as a sign of our goodwill. Admiral Gustav Brago, standing by, IWS Annihilation" He nodded.

The officer snapped off her recorder and saluted, walking to another officer who took the message, listened to it, and transferred it. Policy, yes. Pointless, yes. But it was discipline, and that was key.

Brago looked around, and knew that that Apocalypse-Class capital ship, alone, could take on any threat. It was then that he noticed the city-sized construct, and his jaw dropped.

There was no reason for acting in the fancy way Anon was acting, besides a primal urge to call attention amidst so many unknown arrivals, which perhaps were those of Xenos and other enemies of humanity. To stand, despite showing clear signs of carelessness, was perhaps a symptom of the fact that such blatant nihilism could be nothing but a cover for something entirely different. To claim there was no reason to exist was perhaps easier than to seek one, and for ages the Solarian civilization has become accostumed to seeking reason to exist in worlds of data, the cartoonesque and cliché villains of massively multiplayer simulated reality games replacing the struggle to fight against real enemies. Although for such people, fighting Darth whatevers, evil Lords of Doom with their EVIL LAUGHTER(TM) and Zerg/Bugs/Tyrannid Rushes was as real as the daily life of those who did chose to keep their perceptions at the universe of matter rather than shift it to one of the universes of data.

Meanwhile, the artificial intelligence of the Erwin was nothing but an extremely complex set of dynamic algorithms that was extremely proficient at pretending to have an actual sentience, as long as a Turing test wasn't applied to it, but regardless, it was entirely functional, and the fact that as a non-sentient, it wasn't subject to the right of having its shares, was enough of motivation to not seek the hoes of trying to develop a real artificial intelligence. It, ever-vigilant, watched for the unfolding events, prepared to react to anything that could threaten the existence of its both tripulants in an angstrom of a second.

In a few seconds, an answer would arrive from those so called Myenyans, and right away, both sisters would ensure a proper reply, but meanwhile, the borders between nil and uncertainty ended, as both consciousness now shared the same perception of reality, as the tiny worlds stored in their minds merged. It was something difficult to explain, for it was like if for a brief moment, their sentiences became one, and then returned to their normalcy. The crimson skies became all-encompassing, through which both hovered, perhaps a symbol of the merge of their beliefs: complete freedom as they faced each other, their average girl next-door looks of brown hair, eyes and average body without either fat or exhuberant features, clothed in long black dresses. It was in such environment that Anon would then argue:

"Sister, we should make our request from random avatars. That could be very interesting, I believe."

"But Ann, randomizing it could lead for something like Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin being chosen as our avatars!" Carly argued, as the gates of Auchwitz, an eons old image of the past of horror and tyranny mankind will never leave behind, appeared amidst the skies, "is the world meaningless? Do you think there is no purpose to existence, that there is no right and wrong?"

"They thought they were doing the 'right' thing there," Ann countered as images of young boys sieg heiling appeared to the other side, "and because they were indoctrined into visions of right and wrong, millions have died."

Suddenly a new live image appeared in their little world, that of a brave Solarian civilian inside a foxhole amidst thick snowfall of the planet Glacius winter, during the first years of the 3,000 Years War, with nothing besides the clothes over his body, supplies, grenades and a semi-automatic gauss rifle as he defended his friends, his family and his people, fighting against a march of mindless killing machines in power armor and automatic guns who outnumbered and were far better equipped than him, in a freezing subzero cold, without any air support, any hope of seeing the day, and yet, as the image fast-forward to his last moments, it was clear he fought to death for the cause of freedom, to which Carlyle muttered:

"Our people once were courageous, strong-willed, brave and ready to sacrifice themselves, even without believing in any afterlife, for the cause of freedom. Were it not for their belief, we would today be mindless slaves for an expanding Global State," and sighing, she persisted, "we are nothing but pussies, cowards afraid of pain, unwilling to make sacrifices, hiding beneath war machines and robot workers, that with no limitations of body, have withered in mind and soul, and thus sought shelter in avant-garde nihilism to refuse admitting the truth."

"What truth? There is no truth." Anon mumbled.

"The truth that we are in our greatest decadence of history, that without injustice to fight against, without hardships to overcome, we are stagnated and weakening every day, every month, every year," and then, she emphasized with a louder voice, "in our Posthuman Decadence"

"How much time has passed already during this pointless argument? And if we can only advance through war and strife, than mankind sucks," Anon replied, "so much that it should be gone."

"Two milliseconds. At least this decadence has its advantages, sis, and as for your point on wars, that was not what I meant, but that suffering somehow moves our people. I suppose I should forward our reply now. I have already chosen my avatar"

And thus, a message was sent back to the answer they got


I would be happy to provide you and yours with bodies; be they simple drone-forms or humanoid avatars. Any parameters for such avatars should be transmitted post-haste, that I can more rapidly address your most unique needs.

Welcome to our little get together. You may have come with nothing and intending nothing, but let's see if we can't send you away with something, hmm?

"Very well, I am Carlyle, and nevermind my nihilistic-leaning sister Anon who tries to sound fancier somet... Hey! There is no purpose in being fancy, don't talk this bull to strangers. Nevermind this damn paranormal philosophical mumbo-jumbo. We just came without purpose, really. So," and suddenly it seemed like both voices merged in unissound, "We request avatars as per these specifications, which are the same, because we are twins and thus should look like. As for returning with something, I hope so."

The specifications were exactly as they showed themselves into the communications. Girl Next Door's types with pale skin, brown hair and brown eyes, wearing classical black dresses like if they came from some sort of Victorian story. Hopefully that would be available.

“Hello there.” The droneform was a hovering sphere, gleaming silver and gold, that now sat before the angular drone-thing that had deployed from the Taldaani ship. Fields flickered across it, warm auras glowing red with welcome and interest as it tilted from side to side, examining the stranger in it's midst. “My name is Tehras Maff, a droneform living aboard this fine vessel. I'm here to meet and greet you, to lead you through the ship proper to meet our captain, as it were, and a droneform representing the Shipbrain itself.

I trust your transit here was pleasant? Everything to your satisfaction?” The drone tilted again, as though trying desperately to place the thing in front of it; so familiar and yet at the same time so alien.

“It is curious, isn't it? The fortune to meet such kindred souls, to be confronted with a seeming mirror of ourselves?” Its fields flickered happily again before it turned away, humming lightly to itself. “Coming?.

And with that the Drone led the other drone form deeper into the ship itself, towards the intricately prepared garden complexes where the others were already beginning to gather.
-
Rensa smiled indulgently at the girl before him, waving a hand in the air above the table, clearly inviting and offering. He leant forward, bracing himself on his elbows as he squinted at her through simulated sunlight, his hair shining in its artificial brilliance.

“Oh please, feel free! It is, after all, what it's there for.”

He had passed some time in the further reaches of the gardens and the greater ship-self, pondering over the situation (and his exercise routines) before deigning to speak with those guests who had already gathered. He felt a peculiar sort of excitement welling within him, blending curiously and intimately with pride. It was so unusual to sit down and talk with, well, aliens! It was another thing entirely to suppose that he would act as the liaison for this new venture, for this diplomatic exercise.

“We certainly hope everything is to your satisfaction; it's all fairly edible.” As if to enforce this point he reached out, plucking a sliver of cooked meat from a platter, swiftly moving it to his delicate lips. Another hand closed around the long stem of a glass, filled to the brim with a rich red liquid. “The wine is also something quite exceptional; you'll have to try it.” He rose lightly. “My apologies; I'm so rude! I haven't even thought to introduce myself.

I am Rensa Ghovan, nominal captain of this vessel and so, I suppose, the leader of this...” He sighed lightly, searching for the correct word. “...Aspiration! That works. Aspiration, yes...It's a pleasure of course to meet our honored guests. The ship will be joining us presently; I think it's still trying to figure out what form to wear.” He tittered politely. “In the meantime eat! Drink! Make merry! I'm sure the others will be here more than pleasantly.

Till then, why don't you tell me a little about yourselves, hm?”
-

Docking instructions and fond greetings had only just been sent forth to the Angenterians, Rangerians and the TRIAD group, inviting them all to dock in one of the DEV's single large bays (Where they would be escorted into the ship and to the meeting proper), when the Imglot fleet jumped in, the sudden burst of activity on the sensors drawing a sigh from the Shipbrain itself. It took no real time to process data, or to think, and so in this case it was merely for effect. Alone now, it's thoughts mulling over within itself, repeating and reanalysing in no appreciable time at all, it began to ponder an adequate reply.
Paranoia, admirable as it may be to some, is not going to impress us, friends. You're welcome to board, but I'll insist that you send away the majority of your unnecessary armaments. We're all here to play nice; to interact as friends and equals, not to...Square off with such robust, pointless and vulgar instruments of carnality and conflict.

I don't wish to see any sentients here harmed; least of all you yourselves. I will tolerate your presence, but the continued lingering of such vessels will put a subtle strain on things; I might talk down to you more, or ruffle your hair embarrassingly. It'll be horrible for you, really!

Take our advice under advisement, but otherwise feel free to head along. Please.

Yours, begrudgingly,
Home is Where the Hearth Is

It then composed a secondary message to the diplomats it had previously invited before the fleet had arrived.

I look forward to seeing you all within the meeting proper. I'd simply ask that you watch out while in transit; as you may have noticed, some people aren't entirely comfortably with aspects of their racial physiology. Compensation will end shortly, we hope.
-
The ship had produced two avataric forms exactly as specified by the bodiless Torchship dwellers. The two women stood upright, forms perfectly shaped and dressed; hanging limp as it were, awaiting simply that the consciousnesses be implanted. It composed a short message, informing them that their bodies were ready; and waited, it's own avataric form standing ready to welcome them.

The form was featureless and black, it's skin smooth and metallic. A gesture of will altered it subtly. It's face was long and thin, angular, eyes gleaming like silver and agate. Perfect, sculptural lips swelled and reformed; a nose emerged, proud and aquiline. It had no ears, and did not deign to form hair or clothes. It simply stood, like a statue, like a monument.

And it waited.

As the Price of Victory pulled into place relative to the Myenyan worldship, the ventral docking bay opened and let two transport pods fly free. Each craft could hold only five persons, so it was decided to split the six person delegation among two transport pods. The caterpillar-shaped craft maneuvered into the assigned docking bay and settled to the deck.

A few moments later, the six members of the delegation filed out. MACE had chosen to send a representative from each major species within TRIAD's employ:
Esarn Vrashne, representing the Khyrolii species. The Khyrolii were a mammalian species, and possessed physical traits which resemlbed several terran animal species. The head appeared canine, resembling canis lupus in both shape and facial hair. The body contours suggested feline design, closely resemlbing the slim lines of a cheetah, only covered in a long pelt of fine fur, with all colors shaded in metallic tones. Finally there was the unusual tail, with very short fur and a length over one and a half times that of the torso. This particular Khyrolii was bipedal, and kept his tail curled close to his body, tugging at an imagined crease in his shipsuit, the garment resembling a short sleeved wetsuit.

Teela Suuth Ur Siddith, of the Reikoan people. The Reikoans were a species of bipedal mammals which closely resembled the Terran family of mephitidae, otherwise known as skunks. Some people familliar with common anthropomorphic recombinants; more commonly refered to as Furs, Morphs, or Anthros, would certainly see a resemblance in the Reikoan species. The shortened muzzle on the elongated skull, small triangular ears on the top of the head, slightly elongated torsos on short legs.
Yes, at first glance a Reikoan looked just like any other anthro-skunk. What was most unique however was the fur pelt. A Reikoans fur was similar in structure to fiber-optic cable, and at the base of each hair was a set of chromatophore cells, which passed the color through the length of the hair. These color-cells were under concious control, allowing a Reikoan to alter the pattern and color of their pelt at will. Teela dressed like most of her kind, in flowing silks which held a close resemblance to arabian harem garb; although for this occasion Teela had chosen more silks than would be minimal to honor modesty. As it was, the teal and green silks did reveal a good deal of her pelt, which had been colored in reds and blues to offset the silks, in subtly shifting patterns.

Dawn Catcher was the Irukan delegate. The Irukan are an aquatic species, with distinct cetacean features. At first glance one might mistake them for tursiops truncatus, or bottlenose dolphin. On closer inspection there would be distinct differences in overall physiology. Two pairs of eyes set in tiered sockets on either side of the skull; a bifurcated blowhole partially concealed by a ridge at the back of the skull; two dorsal fins, one set slightly behind the other larger one; three pairs of ventral flukes, one large forward pair and two smaller rear pair; and finally a tri-finned tailfluke at the end. Dawn Catcher wore no clothing, but sported what looked like a service harness on the back, with straps bridging the gaps between rounded bumps at various locations along her body. The gravitic harness allowed her to seemingly 'swim' through the air as easily as water, and held a thin film of water close to her skin, which was itself festooned with intricate tattoos across most of her body.

VN-375-E, also known as Vinnie and who was a Marduk. The Marduk are an inorganic life-form, sapient machines. Their conciousness was housed in a small, spherical Mind Core, and could be transferred easily from one mechanical body to another. Vinnie had chosen to wear a frame patterned after a generic humanoid of average height and build. The complicated mechanisms of the frame mimiced biological design, replacing pistons and gears with artificial skeleton, muscles, and nerves. The whole affair was nearly silent in it's movements, and encased in a durable outer shell of vibrant crimson colors. The head bore only superficial facial features, just enough hint of eye sockets to suggest a real face.

Shinza, the Tejhiik representative. Tejhiik were a curious species; while seemingly mammalian, they bore no clear similarity to known animal species. Similar to the Khyrolii, they possessed physical traits from many phenotypes. The whole thing started with a head that while covered in fine fur, resembled the front portions of carcharodon carcharias, or the great white shark. At the back of the skull, two sharply traingular ears extended a good half foot backwards, with tufts of fur fanning out along the chin. The body was thin and leanly muscled, resembling no particular phenotype, and covered in a thick pelt of fur the color of desert sand, which piled up in a thick mane along the shoulders and back. The legs were digitigrade, ending in wide paws with four digits. The arms were equally thin and seemed overly long, out of proportion, ending in four fingered opposable hands. Finally the back swept down into a long, stiff tail with tufts of fur resembling feathers clumped along the base, and again fanning out into a 'spade' at the tip. Shinza wore a loose vest and a what looked like a kilt or a loincloth, while over this rested his ceremonial armor, comprised of overlapping pieces of ceramic shaped to fit the contours of his body, and held in place with leather straps.

Sari Yensa, the Shanii delegate. The Shanii were another species seeminly inspired in design by terran biology, this time closely resembling pteronura brasiliensis, or the giant river otter. The only real divergence to that terran species was the fact that this 'otter' possessed six limbs. The long, thin body measured over twelve feet in length, with the two hindmost sets of limbs evolved as short legs, ending in webbed paws suitable for aquatic life. The forepaws were a good deal more dextrous than any terran otter had a right to, but fell somewhat short of being true hands. Both sets of legs were set evenly along the body, with the third pair of limbs adapted as arms at the very fore of the torso. The pelt of fur grew short along the entire body, save for the head and upper third of the back, where the fur grew into a thick mane which Sari had fashioned into thick braids, spilling across her shoulders and back. Her only clothing was two vests, one across her arms and one across her forelegs, which seemed to be worn for the simple fact that they had pockets. Her gait was unusual, keeping her forward half only partially off the ground, occasionally using a hand to help propell her in a bouncing stride.

Each species was fairly distinct from the others, but all moved as a group out into the docking bay, then lined up so they could greet their hosts.

One of the ships drones had been left to meet the remaining delegations, channeling the phenomenal intellect of the ship into itself, allowing it to interact and to observe. It had to admit that the variety presented by this single entity was utterly fascinated. Different species types, even the presence of a sentient machine race...It all spoke of a unity and a drive that the Myenyans themselves were possessed of and endeavored to further.

"A pleasure to meet all of you. A most impressive display; you shall certainly have to tell me more of your homelands, of your conjoined purpose." It paused, pulsing rosily as it examined each again in turn.

"If you would be so kind as to follow me, I shall lead you to the main event."

**********
Myenyan Vessel - 'Home is where the Hearth is'
**********

Teela was the most senior of the TRIAD delegation, so she took charge after the unusual welcome by the Myenyan drone. Taking a step forwards and bowing at the waist, "Thank you for welcoming us aboard, and I would be delighted to introduce myself and my companions at your pleasure. Please, lead the way if you would?"

With that done, she gestured to the others and they all fell into step in a loose grouping behind the drone to join the gathering. Teela kept pace with the drone as they moved along, "Are there any specific questions which I can answer for you?"

"Oh I'm sure there will be plenty of time for that as we progress, although-" It paused, tilting lightly as it hovered, yet still regarded them. "Such a broad collection of races and cultures. An inspiration...A wonderful inspiration. Tell us more of how you came to be, how you formed into such a unique and cohesive entity.

It would be of great interest to our continued cultural evolution, and our interactions with the galaxy as a whole." The drone's aura flashed with amusement. "If you don't mind, that is."

OOC: Thanks for waiting again. :)

IC: Amille paused for a moment, wondering how best to answer such a broad question. She accessed the civilian datanets through the netnode back in Cherry's ship-body and fast-copied some of the most pertinent data the Imperial Library. She also had the standard first contact infodump that the diplomatic corps sent, but she'd never quite liked how clinically sugarcoated all its information was.

She smiled and replied, "We represent the Second Imperium of Central Facehuggeria. I am Negotiator Amille Vostrae. To my left is my second, Diplomat First Class Tropplevv. The human male to my right is Junior Diplomat Thomas Brand, along with our ship's Avatar, Cherry. The being in the titian robes is a Mediator of Odon; they're secretive and don't usually like to tell people their names."

"No," The orange-clad form said. Its voice had a strange echo to it, "We are here to listen, not tell."

"Right," Amille said, suppressing a shiver that ran down her spine, "Now, I suspect you were asking more of us in the general sense, our history and culture rather than us personally? Well, our government is a constitutional monarchy with a hereditary monarch and a democratically elected senate. Currently, we are ruled by the empress Ariel Halsey the First, who created our government during a period of turmoil we call the Reunification."

She paused. "In terms of social values, we're strong proponents of sentient rights and equal treatment for all beings. Although military intervention isn't anathema to us, we usually prefer to find a more peaceful solution to problems. Culturally, we're rather young. Our own government was only formed in the past twenty galactic standard years, and while we as a people have a recorded history stretching back for twelve millennia, we prefer to distance ourselves from that particular history."

"We being used figurately, of course." Tropplevv added. "You see, the culture of our predecessor, the First Imperium, was one that we definitely don't want to copy. They were racists of the highest order, believing humans to be the apex of evolution and all other sentient races - at least when they deigned to call them sentient - to be worth nothing save perhaps as slaves. Take me; My race was engineered as a form of jannissary to supplement their armies with cheap cannon fodder where drones were too inflexible and true AIs too valuable to risk.

It's a long story, but suffice to say that there was a huge civil war, and Facehuggeria has only just started to claw our way back up to the power we once were, making well enough sure not to make the same mistakes of the past while we do it."

As he spoke, Tropplevv realized his 'gloves', or rather, the heavy duty bands that kept his primary war-claws from opening, were chafing. And just like an itch that gets worse as one dwells upon it, he found his exoskeleton getting more and more uncomfortable. "The things I do for my country," he thought, trying to tune out the irritation.

"Yes, my friend is right. Regardless, we are here to learn of you and perhaps set up an embassy to enrich our cultures with a mutual exchange. Speaking of which, what can you tell us of Myenya and its people?" Amille said.

The Mediator hovered forward slightly, as if it was interested in the reply. Its robes did not sway despite the motion.

Brand, meanwhile, was dreading the paperwork. As a junior diplomat, I'd fall to him to actually get details of the embassy worked out, assuming the Myenyans agreed. And then he'd have to digi-sign the proposal in triplicate before the Corps would grant him clearance to even begin setting one up. And keeping it stocked with personnel and those few cultural artifacts that couldn't be spot-fabricated? It was a nightmare just waiting for the chance to leap in and start running his life.

Cherry saw this; With a grasping hand and a knowing wink, she made him feel a little better. At least he wouldn't be doing it alone.

**********
Myenyan Vessel - 'Home is where the Hearth is'
**********

As the TRIAD delegation followed the drone into the dining hall, Vinnie's head was smoothly panning back and forth even as it walked, eyes which saw more than just the visible spectrum recorded every detail possible, including the Facehuggerian group near the table. Dawn Catcher and Sari moved alongside each other, exchanging quiet comments on the architecture of the ship's interior, both of them seemingly quite excited about this first contact. Esarn and Shinza also moved as a pair, keeping silent for now, serving as both diplomat and unspoken bodyguards for the other four.

Teela kept pace with the drone, considering it's earlier question and how best to answer. "I'm not certain that we have the time for a full history lesson, however I will tell you the basics. TRIAD Enterprises is a corporate state, formed roughly a hundred years ago when the corporation subsumed and eventually purchased what had previously been a coalition between four worlds. That coalition had been at war with another political group, and during the war TRIAD served as a hired army. When the war was finally over, the coalition was unable to pay it's debts to TRIAD, and might have faced hostile reprisals from the soldiers if not for the suggestion of TRIAD's then CEO. She proposed that TRIAD be given the contract to serve as the coalition's official military and police force as payment. That trend continued little by little over a period of fifty years, though at the time it probably seemed shorter. Eventually controlled so much of the coalition's infrastructure that when the CEO quietly demanded the dissolution of the civillian government, they were in no position to refuse."
At this point Teela chuckled softly, "This is the basic history they teach us, however I'm fairly certain it's been doctored somewhat. I personally believe that the transition either took longer than fifty years, or that it was a lot less 'bloodless' than they say. Either way, I can't deny the evidence that roughly one hundred years ago the form of corporate governance we have in place today was officially ratified. Since then we have purchased or annexed the homeworlds of four species, and numerous colonies of another two. Added to this are groups and individuals from at least three more species, which sadly we did not have available representatives for."

By this time the group of six aliens, plus one Myenan drone had arrived at the dining table to greet their hosts and fellow visitors. Teela stepped forward as spokesperson, bowing formally to the other guests. "Greetings, allow me to introduce myself and my fellow delegates from TRIAD Enterprises."
Gesturing first to the seeming canine/feling hybrid, "This is Esarn Vrashne, of the Khyrolii species." Esarn bowed in a similar fashion to Teela.
Gesturing to Esarn's right, Teela indicated the being that looked almost like a raptor with odd combinations of fur and feathers, "Next is Shinza, who is a Tejhiik." Shinza simply dipped his head slightly.
After this came what was closely resembled a dolphin, floating in midair, "This is Dawn Catcher, an Irukan." The introduction was accompanied by a near-silent buzzing as Dawn Catcher brushed the other visitors with a pulse of sonar.
Still standing to the Irukan's side was the six-limbed otter-like being smiling warmly, "Sari Yensa, of the Shanii people." Even as Teela introduced hir, Sari waved eagerly.
The mechanical humanoid was next, "This is a Marduk, a species of machines. It's designation is Vee En Three Five Seven Eee, but we just call it Vinnie. Personally I think the Marduk assign their serial numbers deliberately to allow us 'organics' to call them by nicknames." Vinnie did not outwardly reply beyond a simple nod, and Teela accompanied her joke with another chuckle.
"Finally, I am Teela Suuth Ur Siddith, and my species is Reikoan. It is both an honor and a pleasure to meet you all." Teela's bow was formal and deep.