STGOD2k6 Main Thread

Duckie · Post by **Duckie** » 2006-03-12 02:34pm

The Khar culture, luckily, was one based off of being able to see who you are negotiating with (and concurrantly, if need be, kill them).

A few operatiors noticed weird readings on their sensory nodes, but ignored them. The Khar figured that the Picket Ships, as beings of their stature and gradeur would require, were an Honor Guard. After all, they had won the last time.

"Honored Pfhor," broadcast the ship towards the structure that had emitted its transportation orders, for lack of a better target. "Request permission to land a shuttlepod with Diplomatic Team onboard the... erm... Diplomatic Asteroid Facility?... indicated in course plot and determined to be likely destination."

Companion Cube · Post by **Companion Cube** » 2006-03-12 05:15pm

"Permission granted, Khar vessel." The asteroid's return signal was free of the usual Pfhor status-baggage, an attempt by the Diplo team to avoid possible offense given the largely alien nature of the Khar as they were known to the LPG.

(OOC: Sorry I don't have time for a much longer message, but I'll be able to write more tomorrow. Feel free to lay out whatever treaties/terms/prophecies/threats you like.)

Lancer · Post by **Lancer** » 2006-03-12 07:30pm

SirNitram wrote:"Then I welcome you to the Hekartes Protectorate! The United Tribes always welcome newcomers, and I would like to extend a greeting of friendship on behalf of the clans. I will be quite happy to furnish you with any information you may require. As for this station's trade, we primarily export foodstuffs and raw materials, and import higher tech goods. Though we have a few unique curios from the Age of Steel, fascinating trinkets, really, even if not the usual interest of traders."

Asters was as animated as the others, and nodded to the group. "And from whence do you hail? I'm afraid your dress and equipment does not match any star nation I know of."

"We are of the realm of Avalon. You would not know of it, it has been several generations since we last traveled this way." Ca'ter looked around, noticing for the first time the variations in clothing and goods being bartered and sold, then turned back to Asters. "What units of exchange are used here? The traders here seem to come from a multiutude of star nations, and the possibility that they all utilize a common currency is exceedingly low."

Dahak wrote:The Avalonian delegation were expected by three Falau'un, the smallest of them taller than the Avalonians. The lead Falau'un, looking around 20 years of age (of less long-lived species). His blue eyes were of a colour seeming almost alive and contrasted by his midnight black shoulder-length hair.
"Welcome to Falau'un Cruinne, Caledon Thales," he said in accented standard. "I am Uri'ija Nefju'un, House Hel'Ad. It has been quite some time since we last have seen aliens in our realm. But given the latest development, it was to be expected. Nonetheless a pleasant surprise. But we should continue in a better suited area than the reception hall. Please follow me." Nefju'un turned around and strode out of the hall with an almost arrogant aura around him. The other Falau'un fell in behind them.

A short walk away, they walked into a round room, dominated by a triangular table in its centre. The wall opposite to the entrance was completely transparent, though no glass or other material was outright visible.
When they all were seated, Nefju'un spoke again. "Now then," he smiled, "what business brings you to our world?"

Thales spoke with ease, though his inflection was occasionally tinted with seemingly ancient forms of Standard. "We come as explorers." Thales unfolded his right hand from behind his back and extended it, palm facing up. As he did so, a small holographic representation of the region appeared, much of it tinted blue. "In the age before the First Fall, the Ancestors visited and catalogued countless millions of worlds. However, their work was interupted by the First Fall. Before the Ancestors died out completely, they gifted we of Avalon with the fruits of their prior harvests, and charged us with the completion of their works."

The colored region started to shrink, until it was only a point of blue light. From that, faintly colored lines began to sprout out, ending in new nodes of light, growing into a bright interconnected web which covered the original expanse of blue.

"As our inherited civilization was rebuilt during the Interregnum, we discovered the true extent of their legacy and devoted ourselves to expanding upon the knowledge they left to us. But we, too, were interupted in our undertakings by the Second Fall."

The hologram became fuzzy as waves of red scattered through the map, then resolved into a new image. The blue sections on this map were significantly reduced, down to at least a hundreth its original volume. "However, much has changed since that age, including our resources. This has been somewhat of a hindrance in learning what has happened to the galaxy since the Second Fall."

He closed his palm and the image dissolved away. "Now, what of your kind? In our history we have never encountered a race quite like your own."

SirNitram · Post by **SirNitram** » 2006-03-12 08:05pm

Matt Huang wrote:
SirNitram wrote:"Then I welcome you to the Hekartes Protectorate! The United Tribes always welcome newcomers, and I would like to extend a greeting of friendship on behalf of the clans. I will be quite happy to furnish you with any information you may require. As for this station's trade, we primarily export foodstuffs and raw materials, and import higher tech goods. Though we have a few unique curios from the Age of Steel, fascinating trinkets, really, even if not the usual interest of traders."

Asters was as animated as the others, and nodded to the group. "And from whence do you hail? I'm afraid your dress and equipment does not match any star nation I know of."
"We are of the realm of Avalon. You would not know of it, it has been several generations since we last traveled this way." Ca'ter looked around, noticing for the first time the variations in clothing and goods being bartered and sold, then turned back to Asters. "What units of exchange are used here? The traders here seem to come from a multiutude of star nations, and the possibility that they all utilize a common currency is exceedingly low."

"We have legends from the Age of Stone regarding a place by that name, but it is excessively unlikely you hail from it." Asters considered. "As it was an island, not a nation. In any case. The primary exchanges are barter, valued against the Hekartes Note. Our own currency is based on the Platinum Standard, and we've seen the value of basing it off a rare element. We of course exchange a number of other currencies here for use on our trading stations and into other nations.. We've been at this a while. The gate network we utilize has proven invaluable.."

Lancer · Post by **Lancer** » 2006-03-13 12:23pm

SirNitram wrote:"We have legends from the Age of Stone regarding a place by that name, but it is excessively unlikely you hail from it." Asters considered. "As it was an island, not a nation. In any case. The primary exchanges are barter, valued against the Hekartes Note. Our own currency is based on the Platinum Standard, and we've seen the value of basing it off a rare element. We of course exchange a number of other currencies here for use on our trading stations and into other nations.. We've been at this a while. The gate network we utilize has proven invaluable.."

Ca'tars eyes revealed a hint of amusement, but tinted with almost racial regret. "Myths and rumors, spread by the firstborn of Avalon so that they could continue the work of the Ancestors undisturbed. In their isolation, the strife of the Second Fall took them by suprise, and the gifts of the Ancestors were nearly completely lost to us. Even to this day, our technology pales in comparison to what it once was."

Dahak · Post by **Dahak** » 2006-03-13 04:32pm

Matt Huang wrote: Thales spoke with ease, though his inflection was occasionally tinted with seemingly ancient forms of Standard. "We come as explorers." Thales unfolded his right hand from behind his back and extended it, palm facing up. As he did so, a small holographic representation of the region appeared, much of it tinted blue. "In the age before the First Fall, the Ancestors visited and catalogued countless millions of worlds. However, their work was interupted by the First Fall. Before the Ancestors died out completely, they gifted we of Avalon with the fruits of their prior harvests, and charged us with the completion of their works."

The colored region started to shrink, until it was only a point of blue light. From that, faintly colored lines began to sprout out, ending in new nodes of light, growing into a bright interconnected web which covered the original expanse of blue.

"As our inherited civilization was rebuilt during the Interregnum, we discovered the true extent of their legacy and devoted ourselves to expanding upon the knowledge they left to us. But we, too, were interupted in our undertakings by the Second Fall."

The hologram became fuzzy as waves of red scattered through the map, then resolved into a new image. The blue sections on this map were significantly reduced, down to at least a hundreth its original volume. "However, much has changed since that age, including our resources. This has been somewhat of a hindrance in learning what has happened to the galaxy since the Second Fall."

He closed his palm and the image dissolved away. "Now, what of your kind? In our history we have never encountered a race quite like your own."

Uri'ija Nefju'un, House Hel'Ad intensely watched the hologram and studied it. After some seconds, he spoke again.
"Our history is, well, difficult if you will." He turned around and pointed at the huge planet below them. It looked almost like a marble of polished stone if not for the huge ridges of dark rock protuding from the clean white sheat covering the planet. "Our home is a very special one as you might have noticed. And as such, is not likely to have produced our race. At least our scientists and diviners could not fathom a way for us to be truly native here. We have met many species, but none of our kind, and no one that brought us here. After a while, we learned to live with this knowledge and built our own empire. We still hope to find new leads to our creators and reasons for our existance, especially now that space is again teeming with life."

Thirdfain · Post by **Thirdfain** » 2006-03-19 06:28pm

New Crobuzon Polygnostic University
New Crobuzon
Bas-Lag
Parliamentary Empire of Crobuzon

The Polygnostic University in New Crobuzon had a history longer than that of most nations. Religions had been born, lived through their golden age, and died with their last believer a hundred times, and not outlived some of the bylaws in the school's vast chronicle of rules. It's vast grounds encompassed entire neighborhoods of New Crobuzon's center city. It's buildings ranged from brick-walled dorms to gleaming, hundred-story skyscrapers. Entire cultures and sub-cultures lived and died amongst the throng of it's staff, faculty, and student body. Emperors, princes, prophets, and, yes, even mayors, heralded from it's endless and hallowed halls.

The Lord's Hall was not the largest amphitheater in NCPU. Nor was it even the most famous- that would be the Grand Stadium, located at the crest of a research arcology out at the city's edge twenty miles away. However, it was certainly blessed with the finest view. Two tall windows, flanking the podium and the massive blackboard, looked out over the city's rooftops towards the tumescent mound that was Perdido Street Station. The Spike's shadow would fall across the room for a short time each day, and one could easily make out the faint blue shimmer of the abjuration charms which ensconsed the portion of Perdido Steet that was devoted to the Parliament.

Today, that same shimmer made it's home over the Lord's Hall. New Crobuzon Polygnostic had prestigious visitors. Today, the lesson's teacher was flanked not with adjuncts or TA's, but with militiamen, anonymous behind their mirrored masks. The ranks of worn, pen-scarred desks were inhabited by a half-dozen opulently dressed men and women where one would usually find a gaggle of students.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention please."

J. Esteban Bentley, Chair of Abphysics and one of the most influential scientists in the City and Empire, adjusted his glasses.

"Mister Mayor, fine representatives of the Appropriations Commitee, today we meet to talk about the Torque. The lights, please, Malone?"

Dark curtains fell over the high windows, and a the room dimmed. With a faint hum of dusty elyctronics, dim lighting transforming Bentley into a creature of shadow and pale tweed. He manipulated a small lever on the podium, and the screen behind him lit up in stark brilliance with the click of a cinematograph.

"The garuda of the Cymek Wastes believe that Life and Death were born as from a womb at the dawn of reality: Rebekh-Sackmai, the force that ends, and Rebekh-Kavt, the force that begins. They believe that there was a... complication. Rebekh-lajhnar-h'k. The force that can not be trusted. The cancer-sibling. The Witches of Tesh called it messh krier luum- literally, 'poison knowledge-' notable, for never before in their history had any field of study been restricted in the Witchocracy. The Chromlechi Imperial Cult called it, simply, 'Chaos.'"

A series of images crossed the screen- painfully twisted images etched in ancient pottery, illuminated manuscripts with entire passages of calligraphy annihilated by thick black ink, and neatly printed letters on sheets of parchment, framing bizarre and disturbing illustrations.

"The art of intentionally unleashing torque was discovered before the Pirate Wars. We aren't sure exactly when, all records were lost when Penton's Industrial cut funding, after the riots. After the Pirate Wars. After the colourbomb. After the Bane of Suroch."

The next image was one few ever saw. A sepia heliotype of the kind used nearly five centuries before. A vast, smooth, perfectly circular plain.

"The colourbomb wiped most of the remains away. What it missed, we still have to deal with today. The Sane-cordon is a significant drain in Militia and government expenses even today- one, I'd note, that not a single administration in the last two centuries has even considered stopping."

Mayor der Grimnebulin's piggish eyes didn't bat a lash. He knew the price of the fortifications surrounding the Split Zones, the militia personelle required to man the motorguns, to maintain the barricades and kill-zones and thick lead walls. He knew how many thaums were wasted every month maintaining the hexes, how many thaumaturges died as the Empire's occult resources were turned to slowly close the rifts which centuries of unchecked Torque exposure had corroded in reality's fabric. They'd made no progess yet, but he was as prepared as his predecessors to continue the effort.

More images crossed the screen. Even those who had seen them before were put out of ease. Lord Sabenworth, the commitee's freshman, retched all down the front of his new silk jacket.

"The Sacramundi expedition was the first of a long line of failed torque experiments. Twenty militia soldiers and four civilian experts entered the remains of Suroch by airship. Seven militiamen and only two civilians returned, with nothing to show for it but a series of images and a variety of ... conditions. Only three more survived the decade."

"Sacramundi published what he found- without government authorization of course- and distributed it at his own expense. The Sacramundi Riots of 1598 put and end to Torque research for centuries." Bentley laughed nervously. "I suppose the public wasn't ready for the cockroach trees or the Holy Sickness."
He'd seen the pictures of the woman who had dissappeared bit by bit, bloodlessly, in golfball sized portions after her brief exposure during the expedition.

"Mayor Rudgutter restarted the Torque program in 1760. The effects were tremendous- when High Chromlech went to war over it, we here at the University had ample opportunity to study it's use- as a weapon, of course, but the data was effective all the same- when the Lemon Expedition of 1766 examined the newly effected remains of Chromlech. We perfected the only method of stemming the effect of torque radiation. I'm sure you are familiar with the technique."

Another image from the air. This time, there were a dozen craters, overlapping. Bentley laughed weakly.

"We've learned to contain the Torque, assuming we can act early enough, and we've learned to siphon small quantities of it's tremendous energy. In the empty places between planets, we've even learned to harness it as a method of conveyance. A thousand teardrives are used every hour over this very planet, and there are tens of thousands of torque reactors."

A simple snapshot of New Crobuzon's night sky sprung onto the screen, blackness torn in a dozen places with the drive trails of incoming aetherships.

"Oh, yes, we forget so easily." Bentley's eyes narrowed. "There's a reason every spacer knows the One Hundred Protocols. There's a reason we never attempt to repair or rescue a ship that's undergone a tearjump or a reactor failure."

The switch was worked again. A modern, colour photograph lept to the screen. Lord Sabenworth retched again.

"This was once a tractor. The external intestines are both a defense mechanism and a feeding system."

"Those were the buildings of a prefabricated spaceport. The one on the left is giving birth."

"That... we called it The Herd. It might have been human once- or, more specifically, human pedestrian traffic. We never saw a lone example, and it couldn't be seperated from the pavement. Humans caught alone by the effects came out very differently."

"There's the epicenter. The Imperial Crobuzon Merchant Ship Magristac. It's inert, but if you train any sensor or instrument at it for more than around three seconds, the device spontaneously combusts. Three of my colleagues discovered that the effect extended to the human eye as well."

"The Magistrac wasn't registered as a torque-powered vessel. We think that her owners replaced her crisis engine with a torquereactor to increase their profit margin- cheaper to land planetside than to use the fortified orbital facilities. Chances are the crew didn't replace the reactor shielding often enough, or dispose of the used plating properly. Anyways, the spaceport and everything in a mile radius looked like this in under fifteen minutes."

Bentley's eyes took on a haunted air.

"Mayor der Grimnebulin, the research team took those images before you- very wisely- authorized colourbombing. I just thought you should see them, see the dangers of what the Fat Sun party has proposed to the approprations committee. We can contain it. We can destroy it, in extreme circumstances. What we can't do, Mayor der Grimnebulin, is control it. Know that if you let them commission Torquebombs, you'll have in your hands a weapon whose effects are immediate, total, and completely unpredictable. Keep it in cages, powering ships far from inhabited planets. Even the Witchocrats didn't use Torquebombs. Keep it away from sentient beings."

There was no response from the powerful men and women. Bentley held his tears until the audiance had departed.

Spyder · Post by **Spyder** » 2006-03-21 11:34pm

Shearwater

Coldrock's heart sank as he heard the phone ring. A few of his fellow Quelectin were giving him looks that were equal parts anxiety and curiosity.

"Excuse me. I need to take this." Coldrock said as he retreated to a corner of the room where he could talk uninterupted.

"Yes?" He nervously answered the phone with a whisper, his fur damp with sweat.

"Closer"

"What?" Coldrock held the phone closer to is ear.

"Closer"

"I can't hear you." Coldrock positioned what appeared to be the speaker as close to his ear as possible. Suddenly he felt as though something was biting his eardrum. The device fell from his startled grip and bounced against the hard treadplate.

~This is a little less conspicuous.~

"What?" Coldrock starting to get used to that term as he glanced around trying to work out where that sound was coming from. His colleagues were becoming convinced of his departing sanity. Some considered the timing a little lacking considering the disproportionate number of contacts appearing on the screen.

~A hyperband signal, modulated as a radio transmission. They should be able to hear it.~

"What is this? Who's there?" Suddenly for a brief moment Coldrock was back on the asteroid. It was the bald man from before.

"If you do exactly as I say, you might live."

"Might?" Says a very startled Coldrock.

"Well, that largely depends on them."

"Your orders sir?" Came the voice of one of his subordinates. He was back on the command deck, looking into the monitors as the red lights continued to close in.

"Open a channel, hyperband." Coldrock personally walked over the comms console and made the neccessary adjustments.

~Attention alien vessels.~

"Attention," Coldrock paused to brush some stray damp fur away from his face, "alien vessels." He spoke nervously. He felt almost as though his heart was ready to pop.

~We welcome you to Shearwater.~

"We, ah" he shivered, "welcome to Shearwater."

~Be advised~ The man's voice came through slowly and clearly,

"Be advised."

~That you are approaching a planetary quarantine zone.~

"That you are approaching a," He paused and looked around nervously, the others were urging him to continue, "planetary quarantine zone."

~You can take it from here.~

"You can...what?" The voice remained silent. The channel light remained on. "Ah that is, you can... NOT, well we can not allow anyone to land here.
There's been an outbreak, a plague actually, umm, it's important for your sake and ours that the disease be contained until it can be properly treated. Umm, thank you." Coldrock closed the channel.

Suddenly he could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him their minds filled with questions he couldn't begin to answer.

Candle class x2
Radiance class (carrier) x1
Guardian Fighters x4
Beacon Bombers x1

Reinforcements: All non stationary mentioned in oob.

Thirdfain · Post by **Thirdfain** » 2006-03-27 03:21pm

ICNS 3rd Battle of the Armada
System Edge
Shearwater/Kreshay Quatriem
Silver Flame Territory

The Admiral Stevanaphulis and her two sister ships cut through space gracefully, like swans through water. Their approach on Shearwater was a strange one- the I. Battlecruiser Division was, for all it's firepower, a scouting formation. Therefor, the trio of large cruisers were spearing not towards the planet Shearwater itself, but rather, cutting across the path of it's orbit at a wide, oblique angle. Their path would take them through long range fire distance only briefly, allowing their sensors to scope the situation for the main battle fleets which might follow.

Telescopes, diviners, and powerful psonar swept the system, along with a host of other more esoteric devices for the detection of enemies. Spearheaded by the sleek form of the Imperial Crobuzon Navy Ship 3rd Battle of the Armada,

Behind her, at the flank most distant from Shearwater, the Admiral Stevanaphulis fell into formation. Officially, she was the flag of the entire Cruiser Force, and her hull contained the facilities necessary not only to manage communications with Grossadmiral Vandermere's Iron Fleet, but also to co-ordinate scouting operations over an area literally hundreds of lightyears across. What her hull did not contain was a flag officer to carry out such tasks. Fafnir Haight-Williams, Admiral in the Navy and CO of the entire Cruiser Force for Operation Hammerblow, had elected to lead the cruisers from the Sovereign of Rohag instead. Few respected such a hands off management style for a cruiser officer, but the Haight-Williamses were not the sort of people to complain about- especially not to Vandermere.
So, Commodore Geoffery Bates, CO of the 1st BC Squadron and I. BC Divison, made his home on the admittedly cramped flag deck of the slender warship.

He examined the distress call only briefly.

"Clearly a fabrication. The incoming enemy reinforcements prove that. Well, we shan't distress them. Complete the flyby, and then we'll return to the fleet and await word from Vandermere. All ships, engines to full."

The battlecruisers and their escorts mapped and scanned the system relentlessly. Soon, they'd be past any hope of interception. Already, information was writhing through spacetime, heading for the displays on the distant battlefleet.

Adrian Laguna · Post by **Adrian Laguna** » 2006-03-27 08:31pm

Freehold Space
A starship exits subspace outside a populated system, and above the plane of the planetary orbits. A transmission emanates from it in all bands, “This is an envoy of the Mekidar Republic, we seek audience with the Freehold.”

Inside the vessel the diplomats do last-minute re-reviews of the scant historical records regarding the Orcs. Everything is looked-over, even the passages and histories that contradictory to the generally accepted versions of events. A precaution that would turn-out to be wiser than originally anticipated.

Monau-Ra, Khar space

In the outskirts of the system, space-time was ripped open and then closed again. The ship that emerged spent a few seconds verifying its location.

“Location verified, this is Monau-Ra. Checking signals coming from throughout the system… Confirmed, signals match the Khar.”

“Alright, begin transmission.”

The vessel began transmitting in all bands, “This is MRS-115 Axe of the Mekidar Republic. We wish to establish diplomatic relations with Al'Eqqarya.”

Loch, "Benefactor" space

A ship emerges beyond the orbit of the farthest planet. It transmits a message in several languages, "This is a starship of the Mekidar Republic. We wish to establish diplomatic contact with the nation or nations in this region of space."

One of the most infamous business moves ever made by Mekidar merchants involved Loch. It could have been considered a great "humanitarian" effort, if not for the fact that many Mekidar individuals and corporations became filthy rich because of it.

Spyder · Post by **Spyder** » 2006-03-28 07:23am

Shearwater

Coldrock and his crew's anxiety climbed as he watched the signals continue to enclose on his position.

"They're not buying it sir."

~We have successfully increased the likelyhood of a surface bombardment.~

"How the hell is that helpful!?" Coldrock snapped at the voice and inadvertantly at the oblivious comms officer. "That is, we need useful ideas."

"Reinforcements are standing by sir. We could call them in."

"If we call them in now we won't have anything left by the time they reach the Lesser Library."

"If we don't, the flu's going to be the least of Shearwater's problems."

"We can't win this sir, we should consider all our options, including surrender."

"Surrender to what?" One of the others asked, "We don't even know who these people are. There's no telling what their intentions are."

"No, I won't make that mistake again." Coldrock took a deep breath as he reopened the channel.

"Alien vessels, I don't know what your intentions are for sure and forgive me if I'm mistaking but it seems as though your intent is hostile." Coldrock let out some air then breathed, regaining control of his impulses was not only a requirement of his job but something Coldrock did especially well, there was still a gripping fear but for the moment he could shake lose at least a little reason.

"My name is Marshal-General Coldrock, I have a duty to defend the Silver Flame and it's worlds from all harm, even the dying ones. I intend to fulfill this duty. What I do not intend is to make war on you or your people. So before one of us does something we're going to regret, how about you tell me what your intentions are? What is it you want?"

Loch

This wasn't the first time the Mekidar, or at least a close approximation of the modern Mekidar had been to Loch and it probably wouldn't be the last. Loch was one of those worlds that nearly every empire in the ancient world had come into contact with at some point.

Sporadic patches of grassland dotted the desert that made up the bulk of Loch's mountainous landscape. There is a single small salt-water ocean occupying less then a fifth of the total surface. Recent times however have been kinder to the world. After the emergence of the guilds, massive archology-like megacities appeared all over the surface, some built from the ruins of ancient structures and others from scratch, providing safe haven for the millions of denizens that would make each their home.

Loch's orbit contained just fewer then a hundred ships in various stages of coming and going. Traders, public transit vessels, some Concord patrollers. All in stark contrast to the empty regions that most have travelled and yet still a far cry from the thousands of vessels Antiga's ports have to deal with at any one time.

"Mekidar vessel, welcome to Loch. Our officials are extending an open invitation. Landing clearance is granted at the following coordinates..."

Pablo Sanchez · Post by **Pablo Sanchez** » 2006-03-28 03:39pm

Adrian Laguna wrote:Freehold Space
A starship exits subspace outside a populated system, and above the plane of the planetary orbits. A transmission emanates from it in all bands, “This is an envoy of the Mekidar Republic, we seek audience with the Freehold.”

"Right on, that's cool," the Orc comptroller on the other end replied. "Why doncha come on and dock in Berth 208 and I'll call my supervisor, see if we can't find somebody for you to talk to. Okay?"

The comptroller killed the connection and swivelled in his chair to his phone. "There's an apparent first contact situation going on, boss. Mekidar Republic."

----

The port supervisor for the planet said, "Wicked, a Republic? That sounds promising. I'll call the governor."

He then hung up and redialed. When he got through the governor, he said, "Hey, Gorzog, it's Adhir. For real, there's this warship from the 'Mekidar Republic' or something trying to contact us."

"For real?" Governor Gorzog replied.

"Yeah, for real. Didn't I say, 'for real?'"

Gorzog grunted. "I guess you did. Can you get me on the line with them?"

"Don't you have a switchboard at your office? They should be in dock 208 by now. Hey, can you even make treaties with them?" the port supervisor asked.

"I don't know, I'll look it up quick. See you at the card-game this weekend?"

"You know it."

----

Governor Gorzog hung up the phone and got his secretary to connect him to the ship in berth 208. "Hello, Mekidar Republic ship? Uh, what's up?"

Pablo Sanchez · Post by **Pablo Sanchez** » 2006-03-28 04:02pm

Antiga, Benefactor Member Planet

The unarmed Freehold diplomatic cutter Gauntlet arrived in the Antiga system via the merchant routes, and sent a communique to the administration there which read as follows:

"The Freehold requests permission to conduct a diplomatic meeting with representatives of Concord to discuss current events of mutual interest."

----

Hekartes Headquarters Planet

The Freehold armored cruiser Leeway slid into the capital system of the Hekartes, combat systems powered down. It sent a message down to the planet:

"The Freehold would like to meet with military and political representatives of the Hekartes tribes to discuss certain issues of great import to both our nations."

----

Similar vessels with similar messages arrived over other planets. A diplomatic cutter visited the seat of the Fala'un Council, another to the Avalonian Star League. They all awaited response.

Thirdfain · Post by **Thirdfain** » 2006-03-28 04:58pm

ICNS Admiral Stevanaphulis
Shearwater

"Further transmissions, sir."

"Engines to full. We'll leave the chin-wagging to the politicians."

Commodore Bates examined the vellum sheets spitting from a nearby analytical engine. The defenses in place around Shearwater seemed more than a match for his small detachment, but hardly a speedbump for the weight of the Iron Fleet.

The scout unit pulled away from Shearwater, even as metaclockwork engines laboured ceaselessly to record all the information gathered. The scouting group pulled to the edge of the system, teardrives howling with barely-contained chaos as they prepared to rend spacetime.

Elsewhere, the 2nd Cruiser Squadron's lead vessels began to approach a second contact- the high energy output of a major industrial system had attracted those small vessels. Like heralds of some small apocolypse, they began their final approach towards the industrial heart of quelectin civilization.

Dahak · Post by **Dahak** » 2006-03-28 05:11pm

Falau'un System

The diplomatic cutter was allowed into Falau'un Cruinne's orbit after the inital security protocols.
Their message was answered by the Council upon their arrival.
"The Falau'un would be interested to meet the people of the Freehold."

Duckie · Post by **Duckie** » 2006-03-28 05:52pm

Adrian Laguna wrote: Monau-Ra, Khar space

In the outskirts of the system, space-time was ripped open and then closed again. The ship that emerged spent a few seconds verifying its location.

“Location verified, this is Monau-Ra. Checking signals coming from throughout the system… Confirmed, signals match the Khar.”

“Alright, begin transmission.”

The vessel began transmitting in all bands, “This is MRS-115 Axe of the Mekidar Republic. We wish to establish diplomatic relations with Al'Eqqarya.”

A flurry of activity occured on Monau-Ra's orbital lanes, as frigates and destroyers scurried about to provide cover for their larger ships. Despite being nearly 50 AU away from the ship, weaponry and full military shielding were immediately active within just a few minutes of the recieving of the message.

It is often said that the Khar are not the most trusting of peoples.

A transmission was quickly formulated in response, conducted by the Archsunatl Hazni himself, and sent off into the void towards the vessel.

The transmission contained video format on the most common bands of Hyperwave which consisted of a steely eyed Khar dressed in gold-decorated robes of great formality. The Khar tilted its head slightly and began speaking.

Hyperwave Transmission wrote:"Greetings, tresspassing xenos. You know the ancient words, yet we do not know you. This is curious.

We are Al'Eqqarya. This world, Monau-Ra, is the capital of the mighty Khar Imperium (Yemti chalut Al'Qedti) and thus the capital of the universe. We welcome you to the heart of the universe and the place where The God Incarnate resides. Where He leads us in the eventual conquest and enslavement of all inferiors; the Holy World of the Great Race. We hope you share the joy of the sight of the Birthplace of Life as we do.

Nevertheless, this intrusion upon us is most unseemly. You have stated that the nature of your pilgrimmage to the Holy World is that of negotiation. We must thus ask the obvious question: What wish you to discuss?

If need be, I am a plenipotentiary representative of the Emperor (Minap aib sip), but naturally that is a barbaric way to conduct any sort of business and when we have confirmed this with you a shuttle will be dispatched as protocol requires."

The Khar shifted slightly in place, changing his voice entirely to a solemn, ominous tone at cross with his previous businesslike but powerful manner.

"In accordance with the Laws of the Emperor (I siy Dagn-y-matnaiz), the Great Race warns you that if you undertake any hostile or inappropriate gesture, the Wrath of Heaven (Yem-i-Spersyla) shall fall upon you and the destruction of you shall be swift and ordained by divine judgement and the righteousness of the consuming fire that cleanses all sin. Thus is it written, so it must be true.

You have been greeted and warned.

We await your response."

Spyder · Post by **Spyder** » 2006-03-28 07:24pm

Shearwater

~It's entirely to your benefit. The probability of successfully defending this world was precisely...well zero. Defending the Lesser Library will be much easier.~

"THAT WAS THE PLAN!?" Coldrock snapped.

"Sir?"

"Well...They're not responding. It appears that we have no choice."

While Coldrock and his team's shenanigans continued in orbit, authorities on the surface of Shearwater, already aware of their plight were engaging in a different strategy.

The Quelectin were suprisingly numble considering their small stature. By the hundred they were herded up the loading ramps, each carrying whatever they could fetch on their way out the door including personal items, blankets, food and often small children. For some this wasn't the first time they'd been involved in a planetary evacuation, although as far as evacuations go this was the most unorganised.

"This one's full, seal it." The citizens on the other side cried out, watching helplessly as the pressure doors were sealed shut. "Calm down people, the next transport will be here momentarilly." A lie, they all knew that time was the one luxery they didn't have. If they didn't get on the first wave the chances of getting off Shearwater were pretty slim.

The percentage of Shearwater's population that was likely to escape through these measures, given the timeframe they had, would be lucky to fill a small city. Still, they could only try.

More contacts appeared on the indicators of the ships in orbit.

"Now what?"

"Picking up launch signals from Shearwater sir...they're packing and running."

At that moment hundreds of civilian ships and transports leapt from all around the surface of the planet.

"Put me through." Coldrock ordered. "What are you people doing? This is about to be a combat zone!"

The reply was swift. "Our thoughts precisely Marshal-General! All Captains, scatter and engage drives!"

Coldrock leaned forward and rubbed his temples briefly.
"Scramble all fighters."

Several groups of small craft violently ejected from the bowels of the Radiance carrier within seconds of the order being given. The alert fighters, a single flight of Guardians were the first out, followed moments later by additional successive groups.

On the carrier, the pilots sprinted to their birds, the deck gangs locking them in place before detaching the fuel lines. The tube was sealed with Guardian and pilot inside.

"Launch."

The Gs pulled the pilots and their lunches into the back of the seat as the birds hurtled into the void.

"All fighters, your orders are to provide cover for all evacuation craft within range. Hold fire until notified, if we haven't started a war yet we'd like to keep it that way."

Antga

"Welcome Freehold vessel, landing clearance granted."

As the Freehold vessel approached, additional contacts appeared as they entered range. The expression "All roads lead to Antiga" was often uttered by many a trader and the crew of the Freehold vessel was about to find out why.

The first thousand contacts appearing on the scanner was something that was best described only with first hand experience and the same goes for the next thousand and the thousand after that.

Most craft observed in the system were either coming or going, some were docking with the orbital station, some were leaving and some were just parked in space, enjoying the view. To describe each vessel would be like trying to describe the contents of an engineer's toolkit after he left a sandwhich in it for over a month. Each tool various in description and purpose and some of them look like they're growing.

Inside Antiga's atmosphere it only gets more complicated. The cities all have large metallic constructs connecting them all together, even across oceans and into more cities underwater. Most of the planet's natural distinctiveness was wiped out in some war or another centuries ago. Native plant life permeates the city superstructure in controlled areas, each one artificially introduced into former expanses of wasteland.

Planetary small aircraft were everywhere. People were everywhere. Creatures, of every species imaginable, were everywhere.

A large platform, several times larger then the cutter that was invited to it was prepared to receive visitors.

Thirdfain · Post by **Thirdfain** » 2006-03-28 08:05pm

New Crobuzon
Bas-Lag
Parliamentary Empire of Crobuzon

The Spike. Three hundred stories of black slate, an armoured spear aiming at the sky, threatening the heavens. From it's apex ran the ancient skyrails which ferried Militia at breakneck speeds to hotspots around the old city, granting the political military's headquarters horizontal character as well. It's height granted it supremacy over all, even as the long arms of the militia skyrail network endowed it with prodigious reach.

The metaphor was not lost on those who had built it, centuries before. Nor was it lost on the men, women, and xenians who lived, worked, and died in it's long-reaching shadow.

art by Les Edwards

Skypods burst from their aerie at the summit of the slender, man-made mountain, travelling like gobbets of spittle down the taut cables, to one militia-tower or another- each one rising above it's neighborhood like the Spike writ small. One could follow the movements of the skypods, and pretend to divine the Militia's next move, it's next sting operation, the next rash of disappearances. These efforts would end in failure.

Were one to stand and watch one of those pods, from the godlike vantage afforded by the Spike's highest level, one would see the many layers of the Old City of New Crobuzon. Down, the pod would travel, puissant engines fighting the metal-scorching friction of it's passage. It would be at this point a creature of the air, surrounded by the lazy, bloated forms of aerostats and landing starships, their movements muted and slowed from their usual interplanetary velocities to a cowed, plodding pace as they made their way past the air defense batteries, towards the busy concrete desert that was Carabash Aetherfield. Even those titans, powered by burning reality and overwhelming thaumaturgic crisis, were cowed under the eyes of the Militia.

The air above the rooftops was stained and polluted, not only with the rising smoke and chymical/thaumaturgical effluvia of one of the greatest hives of sentient life and industry in recent memory, but with the myriad flitting forms of Bas-Lag's flying inhabitants. Corporate gyrocopters nattered and coughed, their gleaming hulls rapidly smudging with soot. A Remade griffin coughed and barked, it's wings reinforced with miniscule pistons to grant it lift great enough to carry the airtaxi behind it. Apsis, gutterbeatles, and the semisentient Wyrmen all plied the skies, occaisionally scattered by the scream of some minor predator. The pigeons alone could blacken the skies, howling and shitting and mating and eating, attempting to outcompete in the wind-swept ecosystem of the grand city's low skies.

The rooftops of the Old City's great skyscrapers would rise up below the pod, a mere hundred feet below. Centuries-old edifices of concrete, alabaster towers, glittering corporate centers, all competed with the matte black and red brick of the militia towers- but none would win, kept stunted, always a few stories shorter than the Militia rooftop recieving stations into which the skypod would enter.

Abandoning the pod, one could wander down story after story, rushing past tightly packed cubicles, massive industrial halls, and the echoing marble promenades of the rich hotels. As one approached street level, the sky would be partially eclipsed. Roads and thouroughfares seemed to cut canyons, their constant, clamouring traffic like river cutting through living stone. Ancient tenements were crowded together, antique walls peirced by the reinforced ceramic foundations of more modern buildings high above. A hundred languages rushed through the streets, curses in tongues ranging from Ragamoll and Salt to bizarre, esoteric languages spoken only by tiny congregations or ethnicities.

Plying deeper, through the streets and habitation blocks and ivy-covered universities and soot-stained factories, one would come across the rare patch of bare earth, planted with government-funded greenry. One such assemblage was the Ketch Heath Park.

The Ketch Heath Park had once been part of a lovely, upper-class suburb built at the edge of the city, close enough for the rich to enjoy cosmopolitan excesses, distant enough to avoid the stench. The city, however, had devoured the neighborhood over the intervening centuries. The factories had marched closer, the property values had plummeted, and before long, smokestacks and tenements had sprouted from the canabalized remains of million-shekel estates.

Ordinance and Law had kept the small square of green free, however, and even as a massive armament factory had moved in and bought up most of the land, it had become the center for a thousand tiny businesses- sausage-carts, thieves, miniature theater companies, and countless independent prostitutes and drug dealers had all plied their trade at the Park.

Today, however, the usual flow of business was interrupted. A throng was gathering, burly men in stained coveralls mixing with young men and women in fashionably shabby attire. Crews scurried to and fro, erecting a stage from scraps of wood and stolen vehicles.

In the skies high above, the pods of the militia moved with greater frequency.

Adrian Laguna · Post by **Adrian Laguna** » 2006-03-28 11:13pm

Loch wrote:"Mekidar vessel, welcome to Loch. Our officials are extending an open invitation. Landing clearance is granted at the following coordinates..."

After obtaining permission to do so, the missle cruiser folds into Loch orbit, and proceeds toward the coordinates provided. The warship moves slowly through the atmosphere. It resembles a gigantic, dark metallic blue, sky-whale gliding across the skies.

************************************************************

Freehold wrote:Governor Gorzog hung up the phone and got his secretary to connect him to the ship in berth 208. "Hello, Mekidar Republic ship? Uh, what's up?"

Informal aren't they?

Apparently so.

"Greetings, my name is Lukina, I am the lead ambassador from the Republic. Our nation looks forward to re-establishing relations with the Freehold and engaging in trade. I'd like to meet with an official, or officials, from your government that have the authority to conduct meaningful diplomatic dialogue.

************************************************************

Khar wrote:You have been greeted and warned.

We await your response.

Oh joy, the Khar have finally gone cuckoo.

What do you mean?

The last time we talked with them they didn't lay claim over the entire universe and all of its species, adding naked threats to greetings wasn't standard procedur, the Empress wasn't a "Living God", and just listen to all the ridiculous religious symbolism.

They were a bit unbalanced, and deeply religious, last we heard of them. But this apparent level of religious fanaticism goes completely against all of our records regarding them and their in the society.

Reply to the Khar wrote:"In the far past, back during the Great Wars, our two nations had friendly relations. We knew you officially as Al'Eqqarya back then, Khar for short. If you have changed the manner in which you call yourselves, please, honors us with the new appellation. And have no worries, we will not activate our weapon systems or approach your holdings without permission.

What exacly did you mean by "finally"? That part you still haven't answered.

An expert on the Khar, back when we were still in contact with them, wrote an essay on them. Said essay doesn't exist any more. However, various synopsizes of it indicate that it theorized that under certain circumstances, the Khar might take a turn to the fundamentalist side of things. It supposedly had several scenarios of how this might happen.

[Last paragraph edited bit at MRDOD's request]

Pablo Sanchez · Post by **Pablo Sanchez** » 2006-03-28 11:46pm

Mekidar Republic wrote:"Greetings, my name is Lukina, I am the lead ambassador from the Republic. Our nation looks forward to re-establishing relations with the Freehold and engaging in trade. I'd like to meet with an official, or officials, from your government that have the authority to conduct meaningful diplomatic dialogue.

Governor Gorzog glanced down momentarily to read the note that his secretary had given him. As duly elected governor of the Bekdash system, he had no plenipotentiary powers to settle treaties as part of the Freehold. That left him stumped for a few seconds until he remember that there was a plenipotentiary ambassador on permanent assignment to his office. That orc had never had much work until just now, which maybe meant that he would be fresh and ready to go.

"I'll send a vehicle 'round to pick you up at your berth, and it'll take you down here where you can talk up a storm with the diplomat here. I reckon you'll have some stuff to talk about," Gorzog said.

----

Antiga

The Freehold representative, Colonel Henthri Ort, strode down the ramp of his cutter and onto the platform. He was totally unimpressed by the Antigan vista, because he hadn't any time for pretty views. He was a practical orc.

"Hi there," he said to the people waiting to meet him. After a moment another orc, incongruously clad in a dark red zoot suit, joined him. The Benefactor diplomatic crew didn't know quite what to make of it all.

The ambassador waiting said, "Hi."

Ort gestured to the strangely dressed orc. "This here is my honor guard. He's got a regular-type name but he prefers to be called Slicktop."

Slicktop nodded. "Right on. Let's trilly so we can lay our racket, dig?"

The Benefactor ambassador had undoubtedly been made aware of the strange condition and attitude of the Freehold, and was mostly unperturbed.

----

Falau'un System

"We recieve, Falau'un Control," the pilot of the Orc cutter replied, "and will wait for landing clearance."

Stormin · Post by **Stormin** » 2006-03-29 01:08am

Hull 490 left overspace at the arranged system (designated Contact Point 3) and time to meet with the Mekidar. The system was modest, a dwarf star so old that it no longer had any orbiting bodies worth noting. A small startap powered the observatory in the sytem, a machine that had been performing its studies for nearly 600 years.
Hull 490 went into the arranged position and awaited contact.
The meeting chamber was the same as the one Tadom had dealt with the Gaians in, though the furniture was altered to the Mekidar's specifications for what was expected to be thier atmosphere suits.

Spyder · Post by **Spyder** » 2006-03-29 01:13am

Antiga

Pablo Sanchez wrote:
The Freehold representative, Colonel Henthri Ort, strode down the ramp of his cutter and onto the platform. He was totally unimpressed by the Antigan vista, because he hadn't any time for pretty views. He was a practical orc.

"Hi there," he said to the people waiting to meet him. After a moment another orc, incongruously clad in a dark red zoot suit, joined him. The Benefactor diplomatic crew didn't know quite what to make of it all.

The ambassador waiting said, "Hi."

Ort gestured to the strangely dressed orc. "This here is my honor guard. He's got a regular-type name but he prefers to be called Slicktop."

Slicktop nodded. "Right on. Let's trilly so we can lay our racket, dig?"

The Benefactor ambassador had undoubtedly been made aware of the strange condition and attitude of the Freehold, and was mostly unperturbed.

"Oh thank God." The woman her hairpin allowing her bleached blonde hair fall freely. "I was like, totally expecting like, you to be this... like, grumpy old guy. Welcome to Antiga!" She giggled. "So do you like want to...talk about like, countries or something?"

Loch

After obtaining permission to do so, the missle cruiser folds into Loch orbit, and proceeds toward the coordinates provided. The warship moves slowly through the atmosphere. It resembles a gigantic, dark metallic blue, sky-whale gliding across the skies.

The landing deck groaned slightly as the spacewhale touched down. To the east; a shining jewel of modern civilisation, the megacity, to the west; mountainous rocky outcroppings and barren desert.

"Welcome to Loch." The men were greated by a stocky no-nonsense representative of the planet. "Name's Jacob. What can I do for you?"

Adrian Laguna · Post by **Adrian Laguna** » 2006-03-29 07:53pm

Freehold wrote:"I'll send a vehicle 'round to pick you up at your berth, and it'll take you down here where you can talk up a storm with the diplomat here. I reckon you'll have some stuff to talk about," Gorzog said.

Four Mekidar exited the starship. They were wearing very little, just a belt with pouches. The golden markings of the Diplomatic Corps, as well as name and rank, were carved and colored into their very skin. This apparently barbaric practice makes sense when one realizes that cyborgs don't need clothes, and most synthetic skin replacements are dirt cheap (like clothes). The four got on the vehicle that arrived, and a few other members of the crew exited the ship and set a close perimeter around it. The unarmed crewmembers would kindly tell anyone approaching them that they were welcome to gawk at their leisure, but to please not approach the ship any further.

***** ***** *****

Diem-noiy wrote: The meeting chamber was the same as the one Tadom had dealt with the Gaians in, though the furniture was altered to the Mekidar's specifications for what was expected to be thier atmosphere suits.

The Republic's delegation entered room, a couple of Mekidar and two Humans. "Greetings," said one of the Mekidar, "my name is Gavril. I am the chief representative of the Republic."

***** ***** *****

Loch wrote:"Welcome to Loch." The men were greated by a stocky no-nonsense representative of the planet. "Name's Jacob. What can I do for you?"

Four people had descended from the vessel. There were three Mekidar and a single Shindra. One of the Mekidar, took a few steps forward and saluted. The others followed suit. Then he replied to Jacob, "Thank you, I am Vlaska." He looked directly at the representative, while two of his companions took the time to admire the view. "The Republic would be interested in drawing-up some trade agreements with Loch. We can discuss such matters here, or somewhere more comfortable. Either is fine with me. We do request that your people please keep their distance from our starship."

Stormin · Post by **Stormin** » 2006-03-29 09:00pm

Adrian Laguna wrote:The Republic's delegation entered room, a couple of Mekidar and two Humans. "Greetings," said one of the Mekidar, "my name is Gavril. I am the chief representative of the Republic."

Tadom was encased in a featureless grey environment suit, passive optical scanners took place of even a plate of transparent material to look out of. Sitting stradled over the bench, he nodded (a gaian gesture) and spoke.
"I am researcher Tadom. As the representative of my people, I hope that these discussions lead to agreements that are suitable to both our kind in both the short and long terms.
"I regret the earlier difficulties based on cultural differences. Large-scale manufacture for exchange was a completely alien concept but I expect in a short time and with minimal energy expendature any agreements can be fulfilled."

Companion Cube · Post by **Companion Cube** » 2006-03-30 01:06pm

The LPG's ethnological division had concluded that, in the absence of archeoedata released by the higher-ups, the Khar best fit the template Warlike:Proud, and were attempting to structure the negotiations to suit that hopefully accurate character archetype. The dominant Pfhor tongue had several phrases which corresponded to "kissing ass", but the tactic adopted now was best described as "Obeisance towards a power whose full strength is not known but is certainly More Than We Can Handle Right Now".

The Khar shuttlepod settled into the landing bay without difficulty and the process of disembarking began.