Sorry about being absent for the past week; depression reared its horrid little face. But I'm feeling better now.
Oh, and, heads up: I'm going to be traveling next (June 6th) weekend for a few days. I'll have internet at intermittent points, but it will slow me down some.
Eastwing is sending a ship to Ennedi to jump on the bandwagon to try and force their way onto the galactic stage, since they're half-convinced nobody takes them seriously.* They're also going to make contact with the Fourth everyone cupcakes for reasons. But that ship is still a day or two out.
Meanwhile, there's a ship that's just made contact with Durandal's civilization, and another doing the same at Clock's civilization. Oh, and President Penelope Kate's frustrated at her nation's inane focus on ship-building rather than, you know, repairing the power infrastructure in their capital city.
*Hey, I wouldn't take a race that dampens their weapon power because they've added so much extra stuff to make the lasers pretty seriously either.
Eastwing ship Gravitational Variable Orbiting Khas, the Eastwing Homeworld
The Variable was the culmination of decades of effort and theory. Trillions of funds had gone into the project, diverted from public works into the Arts Fund. President Kate had been livid at the time, and still held grudges against certain congressionals. Yet, staring at Khas from the formal ballroom on board the Variable, she felt something stirring in her chest. The clean white lines flowed gracefully away from the window, curving toward Meson's tiny point of green light in the distance. She turned her head at the approach of Fred Kwan, head designer of the Variable. Her accompianing cloud of microdrone cameras followed her head movement.
Kwan stepped off the pillar he'd been walking down and onto the floor. An equally impressive cloud of microdrones trailed behind him.
"Mr. Kwan," Penelope said, plastering a smile onto her face. "Madame President," Kwan returned her greeting. "A very fine masterpiece," she said. "If somewhat expensive." One of Kwan's microdrones nearly fell to the ground as it passed out of the pillar's artificial gravity field and into the floor's. "If some infrastructure on Khas had to be sacrificed, consider it part of the Gravitational Variable's context." "I'm sure this ship will be a great inspiration to those still suffering from brownouts in the capital." "People always did seem to appreciate your candor," Kwan said, gesturing to her cloud of microdrones with his drink. "It's part of my charm. My chief of staff informs me that ratings haven't been higher. Not even for the master designers." "Hmm," Kwan said. A woman floated down toward Kwan from the zero-gravity dance bubble in the ballroom's center. "I think your latest wife would like to dance," President Kate said.
His wife landed on the floor, stumbling into Kwan. She practically melted onto his back.
"Oh! Hello, Madame President," she said. "Hello, Mrs. Kwan. You're looking youthful," Penelope responded. "Thank you. C'mon honey, I learned how to do this spinning thing I want to show you!" "I'll see you at the engine shakedown," President Kate said to Fred. "Of course, Madame President," Fred said before being dragged up the pillar again. The couple bounced back into the dance bubble, Fred's wife executing a complicated twirling maneuver. Penelope walked over to the bar - which snaked its way along three walls and a floor - and grabbed another Chromatic Fizz. The complicated, snaking, tortuous artificial gravity fields throughout the ship required two fusion plants to sustain. A third plant was dedicated to the sublight gravity drive, and a fourth one was dedicated to the experimental "warp" FTL drive.
All the while, people in the capital suffered from brownouts as the aging power lines and transformer stations decayed. It should have been easy to appropriate funds to such vital infrastructure. Many congressionals wanted to appropriate the funds for infrastructure upgrades. But then some artist or another would come by with the latest whiz-bang stardrive or spaceship designs and the public insisted - no - demanded that they be built.
Who cared about rusting pipes and powerlines when you could go exploring?
The only congressionals who could do anything against their electorate were the ones about to retire. Everyone else needed some form of deal. Eastwing's laws were already getting rather tangled with loopholes. So Penelope ended up with understaffed work crews upgrading infrastructure as fast as (if she was lucky) it broke. It wasn't technically supposed to be her problem. But nobody else seemed to care.
~o~0~o~
@ClocktowerEchos Eastwing ship Vegas Aurora 13, approaching the Ryuan System Several minutes ago
With a sound (carefully generated and piped through internal speakers) like space itself was tearing in two, the Vegas Aurora 13 slammed back into realspace. The transit was accompanied by a beautiful wave of blue sparks, most of which proceeded to spin lazily off into space.
Bridge The bridge was silent save for the hum of life support and the occasional warble of computer input. The Vegas Aurora 13’s creator had opted for a glossy, sophisticated finish to reflect the scientific and exploratory nature of its mission. Holographic screens flickered in and out of existence all around the bridge, with the attendant Exploration Squad personnel calling up this or that function. A cloud of microdrone cameras wafted through the bridge. You could always count on them being near the bridge or observation lounge after a bluespace transit.
“Translation successful, Captain,” reported Commander Eli Vance. His wrap-around tribal yellow body paint started on his bald head and finished on his feet. “Sensors report seven planets and an asteroid belt.” “Xenodiplomacy, any contacts?” the captain asked.
Xenodiplomacy Being a long-range ship, the Vegas Aurora 13 had a dedicated xenodiplomacy department. Said department had a direct link to sensors and telecomms, a small shuttle bay, and xenobiology - a neighboring department with the capability of simulating alien atmospheres. Xenobiology also had a number of pens and dissection equipment for non-sentients, but that section was off in a corner, hidden from any potential alien visitor’s view.
“We’re picking up what appears to be comms traffic, sir,” Kirra Nerise reported. “Alright, do your thing, xenodip,” the Captain said.
Kirra accessed telecomms, and sent out a general hail.
Attention alien species! Greetings! We come in peace. We are a race known as “Khasi”, from a civilization known as “Eastwing”, and are interested in establishing trade relations. If you understand this message, please respond on a similar frequency. If you do not understand this message, please respond anyway. If your response takes the form of weapons fire, please don’t respond.
-----> Now <-----
“Proximity alert,” the computer reported. “Astral object closing.” “Looks like they got our hail, Captain,” the sensors officer said. “I’ve got a ship coming toward us.”
Captain John asked, “Are their weapons armed?” “I’m not reading any localized energy buildups,” the sensors officer responded. “But who knows if they even need to arm their weapons before firing,” Commander Vance commented. “Xenodip., what’s your read on the situation?” the Captain asked. “They haven’t fired on us yet. That’s good,” Kirra responded. “That’s all your advanced degree gets me? ‘That’s good’?” “We really don’t have enough data at this point.” “At least they seem to care about aesthetics,” Commander Vance pointed out. “Reminds me of a space force ship.” “Fine. Follow them in, helm,” the Captain ordered.
Except with some red racing stripes. Armament: 8 Laser Cannons (with chromatic variation and illumination) Defenses: Basic geodesic shield array
Department of Engineering The core bluespace crystal array, a bank of 312 crystals suspended in anti-vibrational fluid arranged in a neat series of hexagonal cells, glowed a fierce shade of blue. The light rippled pleasantly on the ceiling like water. The array made pleasant blorbling sort of noises, and the light gradually grew brighter. A thousand micro-manipulators were finishing a long, complicated series of synchronous maneuvers. The countdown clock was rapidly approaching 0:00:00.00, and the noise in Engineering was coming to a crescendo. The smart glass separating the crystal array from the main engineering department shaded over, blocking out most of the brilliant blue light.
"Bluespace translation in 3... 2... 1," the computer announced.
The Protector III disappeared with a sound of tearing spacetime (helpfully piped throughout the ship). It re-appeared in Macharian Space in a shower of blue sparks, a few spiraling lazily off into space.
"Ship's still here," Elsie Detchkiss, Chief Engineer reported into her monitor. "No alerts. We're intact." "No casualties," Dr. Beck, the Chief Medical Officer reported. "Science, report," Captain Archer ordered.
The Research Director turned away from his viewscreen, staring at a monitor for a few seconds. "Local space is reading an inhabitable planet. Ah, one moment," Dr. Dunfife said. He pressed his finger to his headset. "Xenodiplomacy's reporting anomalous energy readings. Possibly indicative of intelligent life." "Hostile?" the captain asked. "No way of knowing, Captain," Dr. Dunfife said. "There's a hell of a lot of traffic, though. Don't think there's FTL, or at least..." Dr. Dunfife glanced at his other monitor. "Yeah, sensors haven't picked up any FTL."
Marshal Rockford, Head of Security, grumbled at Dr. Dunfife. Captain Archer glared at him briefly.
"Can they detect us?" he asked Dr. Dunfife. "Hard to say. We haven't detected a change in traffic patterns." "We're not known for our subtlety," Marshal Rockford said. "They probably have every hidden weapons array in this system trained on us now. I recommend we go to red alert." "Noted, but I think we'll give xenodip. a chance to make contact before leaping to that conclusion," Captain Archer said. "Doctor Dunfife, handle that, please. Elsie, how long until the bluespace crystals cool down?" "Ten minutes, Captain," Elsie responded. It wasn't a hard question. A max-range jump always meant a ten-minute cooldown, or at least it did on the Protector III. "Fine. Commander Jones, anything to report?" Captain Archer asked the Head of Personnel, his second-in-command. "Other than the janitor wanting direct access to Cargo, no," Commander Jones said. She was virtually useless at this meeting, and everyone knew it. "Good. We meet again in one hour, barring any new developments. Dismissed," Captain Archer said. Each of the department heads thumbed the off switch on their monitors.
Greetings! This is the ship Protector III. We hail from a nation called Eastwing, and our race is called "Khasi". We come in peace, and are interested in establishing trade relations. If you understand this message, please respond on the same frequency. If you don't understand this message, please respond anyway. If you intend to respond with hostile weapons fire, please do not respond. If you haven't invented telecommunications yet, the key is the sticks, guys! Rub the sticks together!
@Mattmanganon You've got a couple of broken pictures. Weirdly, they work if I copy-paste the link into my address bar. Specifically, they're the Levinti male appearance and the Kellicus-class Air-space Fast Attack Mecha.
I find the concept of military-by-senate endearingly bureaucratic (which is a [good?] thing).
Hmm. Have you been watching Babylon 5 lately? :P
...anyway, I was starting to get a little alarmed by the planet-ship, but was relieved to see its planet-busting superweapon completely and irrevocably destroyed as well as no motivation to remake it. Plus, you know, you don't have FTL. So that helps your case. Accepted.
@FlightofIcarus That's... a lot of colonies. And your history section needs more detail; right now it's pretty generic. But other than that, it looks good.
Bridge Access Corridor The glossy black floor reflected the thin white strips of interior lighting down the corridor. Every foot or so, a panel jutted out from the cream-colored walls. Roger knew what was behind each panel only vaguely. A large vent was situated at waist height right before the bridge hatchway. He stopped there, in front of the hatchway.
"Rollins, Roger P," he said. "Command voiceprint recognized. Welcome to the bridge, Captain," the hatchway said, opening politely.
Inside, the deck plates sloped downward, curving lazily around the captain's command chair. Space Fleet officers of varying rank were scattered around, pressing buttons, carrying reports, chatting quietly. The familiar beeps of the computer executing commands, the echoing hysradar, clacking buttons, and various pulsing and pounding hugged Captain Rollins' green ears. Banks of indicator lights flashed contentedly in corners. Ensigns were constantly adjusting their skirts. Life was good.
What was not good, however, was the Unit 13 officer sitting in his command chair. The officer (easily identifiable by her distressingly black suit and pencil skirt) turned around in the chair dramatically, facing Captain Rollins with her hands steepled in front of her. A microdrone camera noiselessly flitted from around the captain's shoulder for a better view.
"You're in my chair," the captain said. "Ah, Captain Rollins," she said, "I'm here to issue you new orders." Her hair (a very dark shade of purple) was tied back in a painful-looking bun. "...You're in my chair," he said again. She rolled her eyes, but she also stood up, extending her hand. "My code name is Amethyst. Shall we take this to the ready room?" she asked.
Ready Room The ready room was long and narrow, and the ceiling curved with the hull of the ship. A black glass conference table sat in the center, its corners chamfered so that it was an (imperfect) hexagon. Roger sat down at the head of the table, motioning for Amethyst to take a seat at the opposite end.
"I take it you just arrived on board my ship?" he asked. "Yes. I was graciously bluespaced from a diverted transport," Amethyst replied. Roger raised an eyebrow. "That's an awful lot of trouble to go through." "Yes." she replied. Roger sighed. Might as well get this over with. "What do you need?" He asked. "You are to divert to this location and engage in diplomatic negotiations to gain access to an important Ennedi archeological site," she said, tossing a handheld pad on the table with a clatter. "Xenos have neglected to invite us to share in their findings, which has become something of a trend. Apparently we're not taken very seriously in the galactic arena." Amethyst paused for a moment, lost in thought. "Once there, you will give me access to a shuttle. In the event of unforseen consequences, you will await my further instructions." "Fantastic," he said. "I presume you'll be needing quarters?" "If it's not too much trouble, Captain."
Roger glanced at the pad. It wasn't anywhere spectacularly interesting.
"Do I get to know anything else?" "Do you need to know anything else," she corrected, her eyes briefly flitting to a nearby microdrone. There were fewer of them on the Nostromo, being a Space Fleet ship, but they were still omnipresent. "And the answer is no." "Of course," he muttered. Roger pressed a button inlaid to the table. "Ensign Malay, please escort our guest to quarters," he said into the intercom.
Bridge Roger brooded in his command chair. "Commander Tallyn," he said, passing her the pad. "Set a course for these coordinates." "Sir?" she asked. "We're going to be running a small errand." Roger pushed the ship-wide button. The computer obligingly supplied the appropriate boatswain's whistle. "This is Captain Rollins speaking. We're diverting from our original course to commence diplomatic negotiations. The alert level is now blue. Security may have their weapons on their person, and random searches are authorized. Shields online. Rollins out." "Course laid in and ship secured for bluespace translation, sir," Commander Tallyn said. "Proceed," Captain Rollins ordered.
With a high-pitched whine, a thin orange circle circumscribed the Nostromo. Small orange triangles crackled into and out of existence around and inside the ship. While these weren't strictly necessary, they did adequately illustrate where particularly troublesome nodes in bluespace were being resolved before the ship could jump. The whine quickly approached supersonic, out of hearing range.
"Translation will occur in one day and twenty-five minutes," Tallyn reported. Countdown clocks rotated into view along the major corridors with a mechanical buzz, and clicked into place. Their route would require several of these bluespace translations before they arrived in the Ennedi home system.
@durandal - presuming those planets are in the same system, you're accepted.
People with an Incomplete Draft
@MrFoxNews - Interesting. I'm certainly not opposed to an Imperial Remnant expy (and I'm really really interested to see your history section); I just have three concerns: (1) We already have a human civ. Not really that much of a problem; you just can't be specifically Earth-human without talking to duck55223 about it. (2) Most civs have, like, one system at present; maybe they have two presupposing the second isn't really developed. Star Wars loves having multiple star systems all the time everywhere. I don't recall seeing how many systems you'd inhabit, but still. (3) Similarly, I'm not sure about your tech level, but there's nothing specifically wrong with it. Maybe it's just how developed the Imperial Remnant would be compared to everyone else.
@Mattmanganon - Haven't even started reading yours yet; let me know if you want me to.
@Kyelin - Haven't even started reading yours yet; let me know if you want me to.
Other:
@Damo021Yes, you can join. It's always open, and never full.
@Unfortunately - You're just taunting us, thinking about joining but not quite doing it. :P
@WilsonTurnerI don't think you've posted a ns, but I may have missed it.
There, that's sorted, then.
Edit:Unless I screwed one of those up oh god what if Unfortunately was accepted like eons ago whyyy did I stay up this late No. Bad anxieties. Go back to thinking about cupcakes. Edit2: Grrr. I knew I forgot someone.
Member
PrinceAlexus,
Izurich,
Sep,
Forsythe
