Avatar of Tortoise

Status

Recent Statuses

22 days ago
Current When it is time to write, I want to worldbuild. When it is time to worldbuild, I want to collab. When it is time to collab, I want to write. This is the cycle. These are the rules.
10 likes
2 mos ago
Do not kill the part of you that is cringe. Kill the part that cringes.
5 likes
1 yr ago
Sad to say I'm currently experiencing Writer's Block. Luckily I learned Writer's Kung Fu and I can chop the block in half with my hands like Bruce Lee
8 likes
1 yr ago
Why is the sun like bread? It rises in the yeast, and sets in the waist. Haha! Isn't that so cute? Join my RP or more puns will come.
8 likes
1 yr ago
What's the difference between a Hollywood actor and a piece of driftwood? One is Justin Timberlake. The other is timber, just in a lake. Hahathisiswhati'mdoinginsteadofwriting
4 likes

Bio

Current RP I want you to join: roleplayerguild.com/topics/191461-car…

Hey y'all. I've been at this for about 12 years, and I've played a lot of kinds of RP. I like fantasy and sci-fi the most, just because they give me the most to worldbuild with, but I'm cool with almost anything. I just like writing.

Most Recent Posts

@Irredeemable
So, these guys use "plebe" as an insult, right?

Can't wait for them to meet the other noocracy we have
Collab Between @Tortoise and @Irredeemable


The protectors were feeling much better, now that the Zetan navy was down for the count.

One of the remaining two cruisers, this one adorned with red stripes, took to the task of organizing troop deployments. In the holo-simulations, this was always taken to be a fairly simple job: find cities, bomb them into dust, repeat. Soldiers were just for picking up stragglers and occupying whatever the ECU decided to leave intact.

But now they were having an odd problem.

“Sir,” one junior protector told the chief. “There’s… no cities.”

“You must have read it wrong!” the chief yelled. ‘Yelling’ is the only volume he has. “Try again.”

The junior protector pushes a few more buttons. (He was trained to do this just a few days ago, and was still uncertain in his movements.)

“No, sir, I’m sure. There’s no cities. Not on this entire planet.”

An awkward silence fills the room.

“Well… what is there?”

A research outpost was chosen as their destination. They didn’t know it was an outpost, exactly, but they knew it was small, isolated, and hopefully contained Zetans they could capture to interrogate on where everybody is living. The shuttle lets down a little roughly, being that the piloting AI is not meant at all for this environment, but the protectors make sure they come out in style. They load their weapons while they walk.

“Open up!”, the commander bangs on the closest thing they can find to a door. “This is the ECU. We have seized this planet. We know you’re in there.”

Zetan weather surveillance outposts were not built with security in mind. They did not have cameras, or guards, or protective measures. What they did have however, was engineering designed to withstand the worst of what the planet could throw at them.

And this one had decided to leave a single warform outside, unpowered. The outpost itself had currently gone into searfront lockdown- an 83c celcius wall of heat was ripping across the surface of Tartarus-Sigma, and it was only a few precious minutes away from gracing the structure.

With the ECU banging outside, one of the disembodied crewmen from the naval battles took control and moved it towards the commander. Rather than immediately reply, it simply stood there, looking at the small squadron with its sleek, inhuman face.

“Woah!,” a young man jumped back from the moving machine. “Look, commander, here’s one- it’s all robot!”

All the protector’s hands immediately went to their hips, where their metal clubs would usually rest. Today, those clubs were exchanged for sidearms and rifles. They drew them in unison, under nobody’s orders but instinct’s, and raised them midway to the terrifying thing in front of them.

“You,” the commander barked. “We need information. Come with us, and we’ll have a talk.”

Even unarmed, a warform was not defenseless. Hardy, heat-and-cold resistant, with a reasonable degree of strength, dexterity, and, of course, its electrical surprise, this one warform could have seriously damaged the squad as it milled about aimlessly. But, instead, it was here to study them. Zetans didn’t get caught in searfronts anymore. Nobody had, not for centuries. So what did a human being do when exposed to non-fire based flash heat? They could theorise and model it, but nothing compared to empirical data.

“I’m sorry,” the warform finally crackled out. “Are you trying to intimidate a remote-controlled robot?”

The men exchanged glances. They had, each one, assumed this was only an extremely modified cyborg.

“...hey,” the young one says at last. “Is it starting to feel a little hot to you?”

It was. Out of nowhere, every human realized he was sweating.

“Welcome to Elysium-Sigma.” The form declared. “This monitoring facility is currently in extreme weather lockdown. The Zetan Consciousness thanks you for your sacrifices to the scientific cause.”

The commander tries to yell at the robot, the way his chief does him, but suddenly finds that yelling is becoming very difficult. Actually, it seems hard to breathe at all. The sudden wave of heat, like an open oven, takes all the air straight from his lungs.

It’s then that a warning traveling up his arms and legs tells him to look down, and when he does- it’s all red. His skin, red, crackling, boiling… soon, they’re all screaming with whatever oxygen they have left.

The team doesn’t make it back to their transport. Four roasting bodies lay in the Zetan sun. The warform alone is still standing.

“Welcome to Zeta-5.” The warform declared bitterly to their burnt bodies. That ship should be good to scrap and see how Hollywoodite troop transports tick. It was something, the Collective supposed.

~~~~~~~~

(Addressing: @Irredeemable


This is not what they came prepared for. In fact, the Noocracy strictly ordered a blitzkrieg. They would rush in while the toasters still had their pants down, club them to death, and bust up their whole system faster than anyone can say “augmentations.” So to speak.

But as the ECU fleet hovers in orbit over Zeta-5, it became increasingly clear that this would be no quick war. It would be a long, painful, drawn-out siege, the first one in centuries of recorded history. They would need to keep the planet locked down. They would need to face-off against the environment, the native life, and the Zetan resistance fighters. And perhaps most importantly, they would have to stay in blockade, allowing no ships to or from the surface, no Zetan allies to approach, and no space-bound construction.

The protector chief sent his mission report to the Noocratic War Council, but by now, they've watched the whole event themselves. On New Hollywood, people celebrated, believing this to be a victory. But the truth settles in for the protectors ordered to keep orbit on their captive world.

Zeta's navy is gone, their planet is captured, but the real war is obviously only beginning.
@GreyGoblin@MetalWeight
This is the worst part about GM'ing. But since neither of you have been online in a long time, unless you pop up in the next few days, I'll have to consider you to be out of this RP.


And they're gone.

Now, @datadogie and @ClocktowerEchos, I really hate this, but I feel like I have to do something similar. I'll give you both about 5 days to make a post, but if you can't in that time, I'm going to consider you to no longer be interested in this RP. It's been weeks since either of you posted, and with five extra days added to that, anyone should be able to write something. If you post a paragraph even in four days and 23 hours, you'll still be in.
[Starring: Abadi]

(Addressing: @Raylah)


Abadi smiles back at her guest- a warm, inviting, and above all, genuine smile. Or at least it's supposed to be. She's been practicing for three hours.

"Yes, our holograms are one of our people's triumphs. It brings our past to the present, so to speak. Can I offer you something?" Diplomatic talk, but they really did have every refreshment imaginable on hand. "Since the terraforming of New Hollywood has been under way, we've been able to grow anything from green tea to genuine chocolate. Trust me, it's much better than synthesized stuff."

Today, given the militant nature these talks might take, Abadi wore the most authoritative clothes she could think of. Middle ages metal armor, with the exception of high-heeled shoes, and a Queen's Guard 'bearskin' hat. Armed in such an outfit, the Oligarch intends to propose a mutual defense treaty between the ECU and the Undefeated, and if things flow especially well tonight, perhaps even float the suggestion of a pre-emptive strike against their shared threat.

"And I do appreciate the congratulations," Abadi continues. "Becoming an Oligarch is a lifelong goal for ma- hold on." Her infopad beeps an emergency signal, and as soon as she takes it out to check, she is suddenly flying to her feet. Her eyes are wide open in shock. Before Kelsie can even try asking what's wrong, a man in a turban and hammer pants runs by shouting "They took him, they just took him!" Nobody knows who he's trying to inform.

The holo-butler appears again, and without being asked, gently helps Abadi back into her seat. She's visibly shaken. "I'm sorry," she says to her guest. "We have just received urgent news." She looks Kelsie in the eyes.

"The Zetans have kidnapped an ECU citizen."

~~~~~~~~

(Addressing: @Irredeemable)


"On of our own!" the man in the army outfit is shouting. "This was one of our own people, a loyal man of New Hollywood, and these- these monsters took him!"

He's only one of hundreds of protestors on the streets of New Beijing, New Paris, Neo London, and more. They're carrying signs, things like "Bring Back Bodi!" and "Our Doctor, Our Man!" In a stroke of brilliance, one cardboard sign reads "He wasn't just any Bodi!" A sort of makeshift shrine to him sits in the corner between a holo-suite and a public restroom, adorned with flowers, his picture leaning against the brick wall. The people of New Hollywood are not religious, but if they were, they'd be praying for him.

As it is, military action will have to do.

Overhead, countless fleets of makeshift ships flock through orbit, dipping low enough for the crowds to witness them, shrieking on their way to the Gateway. They're not entering it. Not quite yet, because they await a single order. And there's only one man who can give it.

~~~~~~~~

[Starring: Heralds]

(Addressing: @Sigma)


"Wait," Savant Heralds tells the council.

"For what? What are we waiting for?! They took our scientist!" An old Oligarch cries. He says it in much the same way a child would say 'He stole my toy!'

"Wait," Heralds repeats again, no louder than before. There's no reason to yell. They can't overrule him on this. The ships are manned by protectors, and Savant's Third Principle is clear on who commands the protectors. "This is my order to give. And I will not give it if we rush to defeat."

First, he explains to his audience of powerful but very angry Oligarchs, they would reach out to potential allies. He assures them that the most capable young ruler, one Abadi, is working over the Undefeated as they speak. In the meantime...

"We reach out to you," the encrypted message, addressed to the United Republic of Colombia, reads, "because we believe you hold humanity sacred. Yes, we have heard of your history. Your legendary fight against the Yulzan aliens inspires us all. But sadly, we have also heard of your supposed friendship with these Zetans. And so we wish to inform you that recently, they have kidnapped an ECU citizen, one of our own, and likely subjected him to unknown tortures. They have done this without reason or provocation. Are these creatures your friends? We would never imagine such things from your great peoples..."

In this way, the letter goes on to imply that the URC should distance itself from the Zetan Consciousness. The last few lines, boldly, even hint that the Colombians may be rewarded for joining the side of the ECU in this coming conflict. But this is only throwing darts in the dark. Really, the Cultural Union is more afraid that the URC will attempt to defend the Zetans against this attack, and this message is intended to cast doubts on their plans. Hopefully, it will succeed.

~~~~~~~~

(Addressing: @Crusader Lord)


"'Ay, 'ay, darlin'!" a New Paris writer is trying very hard to catch up with an Oligarch, who is trying very hard to walk away from him. "Listen, I promise, this is the biggest thing since Elvis!"

The Oligarch sighs, and turns around. Her eyes have to drop down to where the hyperactive writer is standing. "I will hear out your whole proposal right now if you can tell me who Elvis was."

The man smiles like he just got handed a blank check, because for all intents and purposes, he did. "Eh, he was some music guy or somethin'- so, so, my plan is this, right, we go to those Xandalians or whatever they're called..."

He goes on to explain, with twice as much repetition and half as much detail as needed, a 'perfect scheme' to get the Xandalians in on the war effort. They've been receiving ECU media for months now. Movies, plays, you name it. Most of them are just repurposed holo-programs, made for a non-interactive environment, but now the writer wants to make stories exclusively for non-ECU nations.

"It's the perfect scheme!," he says again. "We can show them whatever we want, make them think like us here on New Hollywood think! Make the whole galaxy, you know, believes the things we believe! It's, what do you call it, a Fernanda!"

"Propaganda," the Oligarch answers him. "The word for this is propaganda." But she's smiling.

~~~~~~~~

[Starring: Abadi]

(Addressing: @Raylah)


A few hours have passed since the news dropped, and the dust is only now settling in the ECU embassy. Abadi begged her guest to stay while she coordinates with the Noocracy back home, but when she walks back into the office where Kelsie waits for her, she looks even more nervous than before. The hat and the heels only partially hide it.

"Guardian Blackwood," Abadi begins, "My government has informed me we are... declaring war. This is going to happen now, no matter what. We cannot overlook a human being, kidnapped from his own place of work. The Zetans will be punished for this. We only have one question for your people.

"Will you join us?"

~~~~~~~~


"They tryin' to figure out if those 'Undefeated' boys are gonna come with," one protector tells another. "That's why they got us floatin' up here by the Gate like sittin' ducks. Waitin' on their answer."

His fighter's comm system picks up the return message: "What, don't they think we can handle it? I've beat up lots of people before. I bet I can bust up some walking toaster."

Alone in his ship, the protector laughs proudly. He can't wait.
You say howdy. But do you say y'all?

Anyway, welcome
[Starring: Heralds]


Flicker, flicker, steady. Little golden lights come into being, hovering in empty air before Savant Heralds, each one in perfect representation of a ship currently orbiting over New Hollywood. If you look closely enough, you can even see the weapons, the windows, the outline of a pilot in a fighter. They remind him of the models he used to assemble as a child, and for a moment, this serious-minded man feels like a kid playing with toys again.

But he's not. He's the leader of a planet, and each one of these little holo-models is, in fact, a real ship. As he runs his hands through the Encore, he knows that real cruiser is floating over his head somewhere, ready for war. If only they were all like that one.

Many more of these lights represent the meat of the ECU's navy: repurposed and hastily built. Heralds sees models of shuttles with railguns attached, and asteroid miners with armor bolted on. Such thrown-together ships make up at least half the navy, and the other half: exact clones of Old Earth ships.

Fighters, corvettes, cruisers and a half-finished battleship. All looking like they could be three centuries old. If it wasn't for all the gold paint. Why did it need to be gold? Heralds had proposed gray, but the other Oligarchs do occasionally overrule him. Better, he decides, to be out-voted on aesthetic than on warfare.

That's why this holo-display is set up in his office. It lets him see each ship and each potential battle as it happens in real-time. And not only that: he motions with his finger for a fighter (which is actually a science ship with a cannon) to move to Encore's flank, and it actually does. Both the holo-model, and the real ship. From here, this little gray office with no speck of color but this cylindrical projector emerging from the floor, a man can send orders to an entire fleet. Heralds considers it his best move yet.

If the protectors cannot think, he decides, than their Savant will have to do the thinking for them.

~~~~~~~~

[Starring: Abadi and Tanaka]


The first thing to catch her attention is the grass. Then the sun. Then, maybe, it's the trees, the distant river, or perhaps the double-rainbow arching overhead. Either way, all at once, she knows where she is. And so she scowls.

Ever since she saw the real Earth, that defeated lump of clay outside, Abadi hasn't been able to stand Earth holo-programs. They just feel like... a lie. She doesn't even know why, since they're as real as any hologram, but that's been the unshakeable impression she's carried ever since that faithful day six months ago. It was the same day she argued with the Zetans, nearly started a war, somehow laid the groundwork for a promotion, and met Kelsie.

So, there were at least two bright spots to all this. Even if Undefeated culture did scare her a bit, she liked Kelsie. That's why she's here- it's not like she came to the Meeting Place to talk to Tanaka.

"So, you like it?" he's asking her. "Does it seem like a good representation of Earth? Or, of uh, ECU longterm terraforming goals?"

It takes her eyes some time to swivel over to where 'Liason' Tanaka is, standing there with that same cowboy hat he wears every day. She wishes he were quieter. Is he even technically an Oligarch anymore?

"The double-rainbow might be a bit much," she confesses, but his stricken expression makes her regret it.

"Oh," he says, and this time he is quiet. "Sorry, Heralds told me to make it perfect." Why does he worship Heralds so much? Abadi doesn't even like the Savant. She doesn't know any other Oligarchs who legitimately do, either. They all get roped into voting for him from threats or empty promises, or sometimes neither, sometimes he just spins a lot of words and has you doing what he asks before you even realize it. But Tanaka's not like that. He actually believes in Heralds. Loves him. Poor guy.

"It's fine," she says. "I'm sorry, it is perfect." A moment passes. "Anyway, I gotta go. I have that meeting, and everything."

"Yeah, yeah, for sure," Tanaka says without looking back at her. "See you later."

Oligarch Abadi exits the Meeting Place holo-suite, leaving the Liason staring at his double-rainbow that isn't there.

~~~~~~~~

(Addressing: @Raylah)

[Starring: Abadi]


"Yes, I am in the ECU area of the Meeting Place currently, and we are able to receive you at your leisure. We look forward to productive talks." A simple and short message, considering they'll be meeting as soon as Kelsie's free.

Abadi looks out of the window of her borrowed office, a second-story room that overlooks the main area of the ECU's station. She knows her people have little experience with truly complex constructions, so their contribution to the Meeting Place is, well, a bit of a mess. But at least, it's one well-hidden by showiness.

Golden drapes cover piping, while complimentary wine platters hide the ventilation. Museum-like displays reveal scenes and artifacts from the golden ages of Earth. Holographic letters float in the air, declaring "Welcome to the E.C.U." in a font inspired by the Las Vegas signs of Old Earth. And finally, red carpets lead guests to the important facilities: the embassy, the holo-suite, and of course, the fully-manned 24/7 bar.

She's already set her holo-butler to appear when Kelsie enters through the big, arched doorway. He'll politely lead her through all that up to this little corner of the place, where hopefully, they can talk business.
@GreyGoblin@MetalWeight
This is the worst part about GM'ing. But since neither of you have been online in a long time, unless you pop up in the next few days, I'll have to consider you to be out of this RP.
Just as a warning: if the ECU gets curb-stomped, I will be replacing it with a society that's Asian on the western continent, and European on the eastern continent. Just to forever confuse what "Western culture" and "Eastern culture" mean.
And there's the time skip!

So, here's how we'll be playing this. As Tanaka did, every nation who wants to (you can ignore it if you wish) can record a little description of themselves that all the other Colonies can see publicly. This is to replace all the individual 'first contact' situations we've been doing, allowing every Colony to officially know about each other, and have opinions of one another. So then we can get on with the trade and warfare and so on.

Also, if your colony (like mine!) had no navy before now, this would be a good time to say something about one getting started. Especially you, @Irredeemable, since the ECU is bluntly threatening you now. Like straight-up
Six Months Later


Earth: the dead, empty husk of what once played host to endless civilizations, innumerable peoples, infinite faiths and countless philosophies. Where humanity first took its faltering steps. Where societies first came together, rose up, and then crashed into the dust. Where our home was. But it's all ashes now, gray and still. Sorrowful.

The year, if you mark your calendar from the Fall of Earth, has ticked over to 301. It's been three centuries since those who would become the Colonists were cast out from Earth, like seed thrown from the farmer's hand. And now only six months since they reached across the void and found each other once again.

And now they're all arguing.

No, no, that's not the word for it. They're conducting diplomacy. They've been trying to for six months, that is, but there are so many Colonies that they cannot all possibly meet eachother one-on-one. And who knows how many more may come? The Gateways are still opening...

With this in mind, a neutral starbase has been constructed, named the Meeting Place, and expanded upon by many breeds of mankind to have found their way home so far. It's a beautiful mongrel of a station, gigantic and strange, and an event is being held onboard it. In order to avoid any future confusion, all known colonies have been invited to send representatives. Some may not, but of those who do, they will create an official 'description' of their Colony, as they have become since the end of humanity's first birthplace. These descriptions will be recorded, and from there, all Colonies can be considered to know and recognize each other.

A kind of first contact, en masse.



~~~~~~~~



(Addressing: Everyone!)

[Starring: Tanaka]


An alarm goes off on Tanaka's infopad, making him frown. He never liked these things. Afterall, Old Earth didn't have them. And they aren't nice, like holograms. They never speak to you; not even once has his infopad told him to have a nice day. Not even once! How rude is that for a computer?

Like these Zetans. They're computers, too, or they mostly are. He hasn't met one yet, but he had a chance to speak to Abadi about her experiences with them, and they don't seem nice at all. He'll have to talk to some soon, he knows that, because-

"Welcome, Liason Tanaka!"

Is that a better or worse title than Oligarch? Heralds called it a promotion, at least.

"I prefer Cowboy," he jokes. The woman welcoming him, a non-Oligarch who's kicked and clawed to get to this position he's so uncertain about, laughs along.

There's a space up ahead, in this part of the Meeting Place largely constructed by the ECU. Holograms flicker in and out of being, appearing when needed, vanishing when not. And flying cameras hover around, eager to record the new Liason Tanaka's first words. New Hollywood is attending the Event, of course. Oligarchs never turn down an invitation.

"Humans of the Galaxy," the young man begins, finally actualizing the words he's practiced so many times. "I am here on behalf of the Earth Cultural Union. We are a league of mankind, dedicated to preserving the cultures, ways and forms of our great ancestors. We believe in the potential of humanity, but also in respect for our true nature. We believe in the ways of our lost home, and also in the reality of our present situation. If you will hear us, we will work with you, to revitalize all that has been forgotten. To keep the torch of Earth burning bright even through this long night. To stand against the darkness, and not forget who we are. Thank you."

That description will soon be recorded in the databanks of the Meeting Place, and sent out to all other nations who participate in this Event. Even now, the ECU is also hearing the introductions of other Colonies, both friends and strangers. And enemies. The time of first contacts is over. Even Tanaka realizes. It is time for the action to begin.

~~~~~~~~

[Starring: Heralds]


Savant Heralds is smiling. This in itself is usually a bad thing, but the context makes it even more dubious.

New Hollywood is covered in old ruins from a bygone civilization: the Bezians. They built from a variety of materials, like mankind, but eons have rotted all of them away but the very strongest. Metal alloys are pulled from the scrapped buildings, vehicles, and structures. Not all of it is in good condition, but if centuries of doing this has taught the ECU anything, it's how to refurbish. And that's why Heralds is smiling.

He's speaking to a crowd in front of him, too. A throng of a throng of curious citizens, standing in the crowded streets of Neo London, pushing each other for spots and trying to avoid the gaze of agitated protectors.

The Savant is telling them how another useless, foreign old city has finally been cleared out of everyone's view- always good news- but this time, trust him, it's even greater. Now, that alien old city is being put to a true purpose again. It's bones were melted down, refurbished, and at last fixed into the shape of the First Stand: a brand new fleet of space-worthy ships. The only one in New Hollywood's history, at all, to sit in orbit around this world. A historic moment!

The crowd cheers.

Heralds does not mention, of course, that the design of these ships is nothing noteworthy. In fact, they were almost completely copied from Old Earth data. He realizes that any other Colony who still remembers their past will recognize this engineering. And of course, the materials are less-than-perfect. The Noocracy puts a positive spin on these unfortunate facts:

"Already," Heralds' projected voice booms out through the streets below his feet, and indeed across the entire world, "we have the kind of vessels that have not been since the Fall of our Mother Earth."

The crowd cries out again, stretching Heralds' proud grin further across his face. The real upshot is that, although the ships may be simple and cheap, they really were made with astounding speed. An estimated one million Bezian buildings were scrapped to create them. Never before has the ECU been so lucky to live in the trash of another civilization.

"Our wonderful Protectors," he keeps on, "the long-time defenders of our ways of life, have volunteered to lead these ships into battle. Thousands of them have. We have selected the best of the best, and they'll be the ones to protect us- from the stars!"

Although his right arm waves dramatically to the sky, this is really more mediocre news. The protectors are dedicated, aggressive, and on average, half as smart as a particularly stupid brick. They will surely make relentless killers in one-on-one combat, as they were indoctrinated for. But in the cerebral strategy of space combat?

Well... it's a good thing they're easy to replace. The ships and the protectors both.

~~~~~~~~

(Addressing: @Irredeemable)


"You will not enter our territory. You will not approach us outside of the Meeting Place. You will interact with no New Hollywood citizens. You will offer no implants, nor will you attempt to spread the influence of such devices to the ECU or her allies. If these demands are not followed, we will consider all methods at our disposal, including naval action."

These are just the last few lines of a message sent via probe into the Zetan system, but they contain the flavor of the whole. It's a threat, plain and simple. In their own internal councils, the Oligarchs have already decided there can be no peace- even an unsteady one- with creatures like the cyborgs. They pretend to be humans, but they are no longer. So an example has to be set, for all the other Colonies, and for those generations who may come later. To show that this kind of modification is inexcusable, unacceptable, a bridge too far. They are not declaring war, but they are playing at dominance.

True humans must have power over the machines. And the Galaxy must witness it.

~~~~~~~~

(Addressing: @Raylah)

[Starring: Abadi]


"Guardian Kelsie," Abadi sent her message through the Gateway towards Ellara. In the last 6 months, many Colonies have learned to contact one another in this way. "The ECU is desirous of another meeting between ourselves and the Undefeated, and as you and I have met previously, I was chosen to propose it. You will, of course, remember our discussion with the Zetans." She was talking around the issue, as most Oligarchs do. "During that conversation, certain philosophical questions were raised. About humanity."

She leans into the recording device, almost desperately. "In these last several months, those questions have become far more practical. The Zetans, we believe, may attempt to act on their views. But if I remember, your own views were much more similar to mine. Perhaps you and I should have another conversation."

For anyone smart enough to read through the lines, as Abadi really hoped Kelsie was, the meaning was clear. The Noocracy is spooked about the Zetans, (even though the ECU may be the aggressors) and they want back-up.

"Oh," she adds, in a lighter tone. "And I have some more positive personal news. In our next meeting, I will be Oligarch Abadi." Her Justification had not destroyed her.
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