Year 210,537

Roleplay Library Alternate Timelines / AU RP Library
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1

In the Old Galactic Year of 210,537…the galaxy is chaotic, as always. The cyclic path of history continues today like it did yesterday. and it will continue tomorrow. Empires rise and fall, anonymous masses fight for their well being, but it is the individual who bends the forces of change to his will.

“We were once the capital of the galaxy, you know,” advised the First Lady to her husband.

“What? Are you sure?” mocked Chancellor Goldbloom with his eyebrows raised. “If that were true, it must have been before my grandfather’s grandfather’s time. Now, we’re just as culturally backwards as our guests. But it is always a wonder to ponder that after the Galactic Federation’s sun set, there is yet to be another sun rise and wake the planets.”

“I just wanted to remind you that no matter what the kings and presidents say or do, your planet’s claim as “First Among Many” isn’t validated by their presence. It is a scientific fact that Old Federalia is the center of the populated galaxy, around which everyone rotates. It’s only a matter of time before things come full circle,” the vixen said with a wink.

Her words swelled in his ears, and made his shoulders feel just a bit broader. Today the first guests would arrive for the annual meeting of former Federation members, and he needed as much encouragement as she could give. Decades ago the former members gathered each year to keep up appearances and to keep interstellar relations casual. Now most don’t bother to send a message excusing themselves. This isn’t a slight–the disintegration of the Galactic Federation affected its members much more than its capital.

Old Federalia is still a center of trade because it is the old crossroads of the galaxy. Those planets that do send dignitaries are usually only interested in maintaining the docility of their neighbors. Everyone wants war to remain as improbable as it is impossible. To conquer a planet would require an occupation force nearly as large as the planet’s inhabitants. Why plunder a planet’s resources just to feed an army? The only other option is annihilation via nuclear bombardment. Who would prefer a nuclear wasteland? It is much easier to be content.

That is where hostility arises. Greed is still the root of all evil. Privateering is as profitable as it was in the Caribbean, and corsairs are just as elusive. It was decided long ago to divide the shipping lanes among those planets that can defend them, and force everyone else to sell their resources and labor in exchange for these “technical services” (protection).

As Old Federalia’s chancellor, Goldbloom provides hospitality to kings and gangsters alike. It is his function to pretend the Federation is alive, and it is their function not to tell him (or their neighbors) otherwise. The former members will arrive one by one and be greeted by the chancellor.

While waiting for each former member to arrive, time will be spent at dances, theaters, stadiums, and perhaps a wedding. Meeting other guests is the real business of attending. Representatives will talk one on one or in small groups to negotiate and renegotiate alliances. This disorderly and haphazard process is the only way to keep the peace, and each planet is accustomed to living with the deals their representative makes–at least for a year.

When they all get bored, the pretending will recommence for a quick meeting of the Galactic Federation Parliament. It will pass any number of silly resolutions, then customarily re-elect (hopefully) the leader of Old Federalia as leader of the Galactic Federation of Planets.

(Question? Ask here: http://theeastpacific.com/topic/5179750/1/#new)

OOC: I wanted to provide a place for everyone to immediately set up other storylines. Feel free to assassinate each other or what have you. War and annihilation are more than welcome, so don’t think of this as anything other than a starting line. The royal family of OF is large and ceremonial, and thereby very eligible for marriage in order to sign a deal in blood. I advise you all to create a pirate character to plunder your friends, and perhaps bring a sports team to OF to entertain me :stuck_out_tongue:

2

Kathira Beralis of the Aurora Empire was ensconced in her favorite plush chair in her private sitting room. The young woman had emerald green eyes and long blue-black hair that cascaded down to her waist in an elegant waterfall of curls. She wore an ivory silk gown that emphasized her youth rather than added years for assured majesty. She appeared younger than her twenty years of age. Though her face was physically beautiful, almost uncannily so, her expression was colder than the glaciers in northern Tamolin. Her youth might have been misleading had her cold face, aura of undoubted authority, and impeccable posture not bespoke her royal blood and position. Only twenty years of life notwithstanding, Kathira was the Katha of the Aurora Empire. Her father and mother had died in an airship accident only ten months past. She had killed her siblings and ascended to the position that she considered her birthright. Now she was the leader of over two billion Xorai’i. Perhaps in another world there would have been plots to unseat the new Katha. In the Aurora Empire, that would be a foolish move. The Deities would not permit internal disruption in the Empire.

Seated across from the cold young woman in her gold and emerald chair was a group of three individuals. These three individuals were robed in elegant velvet that revealed their identities. The only woman in the group was garbed in the crimson velvet of the Sages of Saruth. The gold about her hood and sleeves marked her as the High Sage, Gracen Kanalyr. The two men wore purple and blue robes, the colors marking them respectively as the High Priest and High Cleric. Together their power was almost equal to Kathira’s own power, but if that daunted the Katha, there was no sign of it. The woman, Gracen Kanalyr, was not beautiful like Kathira or either of her male counterparts. Her looks were ordinary for an Imperial. This did not diminish her authority in the least. If anything, she was easier to relate to among the Sages of Saruth. The man in purple, Xaeyth Haldor, was far and away the most remarkable of the three…or rather, half of his face was. The other half of the leader of the Priests of Xo was concealed by his velvet purple hood. The last was attractive, though not extraordinarily so. His Order, that of the Clerics of Rephal, was the last of the three and probably the most influential. What they had come to discuss was a matter that had even the cold-faced Katha listening with little skepticism.

“Lady Katha,” Xaeyth Haldor said, a truly creepy smile on his heavily scarred face as he spoke. Under his heavy purple hood his bright amethyst eyes glowed. “Surely it is time for you to allow Chaos to overcome our enemies.”

Kathira threw a disparaging look at the Priest of Chance. “Spare me the delusions of conquest, Your Eminence,” she told him in a voice as cool as her demeanor. “For what reason have you come to Solyst? Why do the Timekeepers wish to speak with me in private?”

“It was a legitimate question,” the man said innocently - as innocently as a madman could successfully manage, that was. The Priests of Xo, the Deity known better as Chance, were completely insane. Contact with the Spirit of unadulterated Chaos directed minds that by all rights should be locked safely away from the populace. Not every madman was a priest of Xo, but every priest and priestess of Xo was irrefutably mad.

“Enough games,” the young Katha said shortly. “I haven’t the time to play games with you, Xaeyth. Do you plan to get to the point?”

Gracen Kanalyr, High Sage of Saruth, or Fate, leaned slightly forward in her seat. “Yes, he does.” Her tone was profoundly disdainful as she spoke. “You know why we have come, Katha. Chieftess Svirlara Laianzel sent your missive home last week in a box. We wish to know the reason behind this.”

“Probably because it was nicer than mailing the remains back in a bucket,” Erezin observed through a smile heavily laden with particles of lasciviousness.

Gracen and Kathira both graced him with equal expressions of disdain. “You can stay out of this conversation,” the High Sage of Saruth told him icily.

He grinned. “You look so beautiful when you want to strangle me, Gracie.”

Kathira lifted one brow as a mild expression of her amazement at his audacity. She did not allow the conversation to take another turn, however. “Chieftess Svirlara was under the impression that Xaeyth’s Priest was attempting to incite internal strife. Her response to this perceived threat was to immediately deport Xorethel and to mince my Caos into pieces that I could feed my ocelot.”

Xaeyth was not smiling, but it was hardly difficult to conceive of the notion that he was contrarily pleased with this revelation. “Are you going to send a representative to Old Federalia, Katha?”

The Katha met his mad gaze with a level stare. “I see no reason why not to do so. By the way, did Alamar Idyn agree to accompany my chosen missive?”

“Yes. The best mercenary in all of the Aurora Empire is an excellent escort,” Erezin said patronizingly.

“You say that now, my dear," Xaeyth noted. “Do remember, Katha, what happened to your ancestors because of the Galactic Federation of Planets. None of them can be trusted.”

“Times and people have changed,” Kathira said dismissively, waving one fair hand to further emphasize her indifference. “The Galactic Federation is finished. It is a has-been threat to the solidarity of Xoriet. The one I am concerned about is the Galactic Empire of East Malaysia. Expansion is dangerous.”

“Xoriet is safe. The closest planet to ours happens to be Old Federalia. No-one will be attacking us anytime soon,” Gracen observed clinically. “Still, it would be helpful if you could assimilate the last third of Xoriet’s population and enfold them into the embrace of the Empire.”

Kathira’s tone was cynical as she answered. “The reason we divided in the first instance was because of the interference of the other planets, other cultures. How nice it would be if we were the only planet in existence.”

Xaeyth’s lone eye lit right up. If anything was more enticing than assimilating the Outlands, it was destroying all other worlds to protect Xoriet. Certainly his deity would approve heartily of such an ambition.

“We can do nothing,” the Katha finished. She rose to her feet, forcing them to stand to match her movemenets. After all, she still outranked them, a blessing in this time. Her emerald green eyes hardened from stone to glacier. “If I find that this conversation has extended beyond this room, what Svirlara did to my Caos will be kind. Do you understand me?”

The sight of the Katha ordering a group of Xorai’i whose youngest member was a decade older than she might have been ludicrous had it not been Kathira. She dismissed them with a wave of her right hand. As they left, she looked down at her hand and permitted herself a small smile. Unconditional power felt good.

3

Walking to the entrance of the meeting hall, Empress Glendale Jung had a lot on her mind. She had not been to the annual meeting for the former GFP members in a very, very, very long time. She was unfortunately in the area on official business and didn’t want to be blatantly rude. Her Galactic Empire might have been one of the GFP’s closest allies during its heyday from what she remembered from that time, before she ascended to Empress, but from her perspective that was many lives ago.

She use to go to the meetings all the time but she got tired of focusing on the past and needed her people to move forward and that they did. Now they have some of the safest trade routes in the explored galaxy… which equals one thing for her people: money. Governments, corporations, traders and et cetera will pay a premium for it.

She had her normal entourage and bodyguards that went with her everywhere and they were doing their normal conversing since they technically didn’t have to speak verbally to each other as they went into the meeting hall.

“Well, well , well…” she finally said out loud and with a smile she looked back at her staff, “Still looks the same from last time I was ever here. I suppose being observant is the price to pay for being ageless,” and with a chuckle she continued forward.

She noted most of the leaders were shocked to even see she actually showed up, which was quite easy to figure out since their eyes widened and whispering among themselves when she walked by.

‘You would think they would be a little less obvious – maybe waiting until she passed by before almost splitting out their drink and food,’ she thought to herself.

She could see Chancellor Goldbloom from where she entered and considered trying to avoid him at all possible cost but she knew she had to be the stateswoman like she always is. She knew his profile from intelligence reports she had her head of diplomacy with her, if she needed any assistance.

With a deep breath she approached him from behind on purpose to slightly startle him, “Greetings Chancellor Goldbloom. I’m Empress Jung of East Malaysia. It’s a pleasure to see or should I say meet you,” and extended her hand to shake with his.

OOC:
Say hello to the same EM but the different EM.
Majority of current characters will be reused.
East Malaysians rarely share their age and many forget after a while – almost ageless – T&C apply.
:slight_smile:

4

Capital District, Perun, Svetlav Oblast, Federative Republic of Laiatan

“We mustn’t give up our independence to join some silly club - not to mention one that failed in the past. It’s my hope that you all can agree with me,” President Nikolai Gorbunov said firmly as he finished his speech, all 159 Senators of the Federation Council standing and applauding their president. While not formally invited to the meeting on Old Federalia simply because the planet wasn’t a former Galactic Federation member, the idea of joining the rebirth took hold in some of the population. Gorbunov went before the Federation Council to try and convince his fellow party members to shoot down the proposal before it gained traction.

As Gorbunov made his way back to his office in the Dvoret, he received a message from his Vice President, Alexandra Tetsonov, on the results of the vote. He smiled to himself as he saw that all 159 Senators were against attempting to join the Galactic Federation, instead choosing to continue the independence of the Federative Republic.

FRCS Svetlana, Danilovka Port of Entry, Danilovka, Dogola Oblast, FR Laiatan

On the other side of the planet, a silence remained over a docked freighter as the crew slept. The sound of a television was the only thing interrupting the tranquility of the docked ship. “Republic military vessels shot down three pirate vessels following an alert from the FRCS Freya’s anti-piracy alarm over the Svetlav Oblast as it left the Perun PoE. Military reports indicate that at least 22 pirates were killed, though that number could increase as rescue workers -” An older lobo man shook his head and sighed, turning off the television and snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray.

“This isn’t a good idea, Dmitri,” the man said, “you know what the government does to pirates and smugglers.” Dmitri - a slightly younger lobo man with snow white fur and ice blue eyes - simply scoffed at the old man. “Yeah. If you’re caught pirating, you’re killed. Smugglers and surviving pirates are sent to the mines. We all knew the risk when we signed up for this. Don’t think about the consequences. Think about the reward.” Dmitri paused as he downed the rest of his drink. “One hundred and fifty million rublas. That’s our reward for bringing back a few containers full of the stuff. They won’t be able to search every container - we’re on a freighter for fuck’s sake. Besides, Zislinc sees hundreds of ships a d-”

“They don’t see freighters the size of ours on a day to day basis. You and I both know damn well that Customs is going to search us. And what happens when they find six containers full of Zis? They seize the ship, and we’re sent off to the ore mines on that godforsaken rock. We’d never leave. Need I remind you about your brother?”

Dmitri bit his tongue and shut his eyes tightly, squeezing the glass in his hand at the mention of his brother. Dmitri got away during a drug bust while his brother didn’t. With a soft sigh, he returned his glass to the table. “We’ll be fine. Even with the salaries they’ve got Customs on, there’s still plenty that wouldn’t mind a few extra rublas.” A laugh escaped the old man’s lips. “A few? Haven’t you read the pamphlets? Customs officials are up to at least 500 thousand rublas - each. You can’t buy people easily anymore, Dmitri. This isn’t 210,500 anymore. Laiatan is rolling in it. Government workers are among the highest paid workers in the entire Republic. That’s the entire reason smuggling in Laiatan is so difficult now. Nobody can be bribed anymore - cheaply anyway. It’s a rich man’s game now, and we should stay out of it.”

“We’ll be fine,” Dmitri snapped, standing up and pushing the chair in with his foot. “We’ll leave tomorrow afternoon.” He turned and walked out of the room, heading down the hall to his bunk. “Doesn’t anybody have respect for their elders anymore,” the old man mumbled to himself, groaning a bit as he stood up, rubbing his lower back. He made his way out of the lounge, shutting off the lights and heading into his bunk.

[spoiler]So basically, since Laiatan was never a member of the Galactic Federation in the first place, I thought it’d be interesting to kind of explore the idea of it joining, though it likely won’t happen as seen in the first part. Since I probably won’t be attending the meeting, I also thought it’d be fun to start up some old smuggler characters trying to get back in the game after some time away from it - and dealing with the differences that happened between a few years and a president. Here’s a little guide to some of the stuff that probably isn’t known that’s talked about:

FRCS: Federative Republic Commercial Ship
Rublas: Laiatan’s currency (Just like my nation)
Zislinc: Smaller of Laiatan’s two moons
Zis: Narcotic created from ingredients only found on Zislinc, hence the name “Zis.” It’s highly illegal in all Republic territory, and fetches a high price on the black market.
Republic: The Federative Republic of Laiatan. Simply another way of referring to the planet. Thought it’d be better to use than ‘Federation’ so I’m not competing/confused with OF. :P[/spoiler]

5

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The space station was massive; at least, from President Calamari’s perspective as the shuttle moved in to dock. Massive freighters could be visible as they carried items from the station to whichever end of the galaxy they came from. The Mirandan Federation had long been ignored by the greater powers within the galaxy after turning down membership in the Galactic Federation on the grounds of sovreignty. Now that the Galactic Federation was receeding, of course, Miranda jumped at the opportunity to be a bigger power, and now many stations like the one he was being thrown towards where dotted all over Mirandas’ sphere of influence, and attracted massive trade at that.

The shuttle, escorted by two Navy Destroyers, moved in to the the station. Mr. Calamari was expected to make a speech on Mirandas’ new found prosperity as a trade hub. As the shuttle docked, it became obvious how much of a crowd had shown up.

“I thought we werent expecting crowds at the dock?” said Mr. Calamari, looking around at his staff.

“Someone must of tipped them off” sighed Jason, Head of Security. “We’ll have to be quick in getting to the auditorium. The car’s waiting outside.”

Mr. Calamari nodded, surrounded by security personell as the door to the shuttle opened. Cheering crowds could be seen as he made his way down to the pod. The ‘Pod’ was a smaller shuttle that was used to ferry personell and materials around the massive station. He got a wave or two in at the crowd before Security shuffled him into the pod, and they xoomed off to the auditorium.

The shuttle pod stopped right by the podium, and Mr. Calamari exited the pod,waving to the crowd. The crowd did not know this, of course, but a thin layer of plexiglass protected Mr. Calamari from them. He had not been promised it would stop a bullet, but it would decelerate it enough to not kill him. This in mind, he chuckled slightly to himself as he made his way up to the stage. The auditorium was rather huge, with massive glass seperating the vacuum of space behind the stage. As he made his way up to the podium, something caught his eye; A small freighter moving towards them.

“Is that normal?” asked Mr. Calamari to the head of security, rather sarcastically.

“No, i’m afraid its not.” Jason replied,looking behind them at the freighter moving towards them; It was speeding up. The crowd took notice, and began to panic as the freighter got bigger and bigger in the glass, approaching them. Suddenly, a shockwave blew out from it; The station shook violently as the shields appeared outside the glass, visibly being shaken by the explosion. The freighter was decimated, and as his security escorted Mr. Calamari back onto the shuttle pod and the crowd continued to panic, he noticed some other freighters had been damaged as well. It seemed to quiet down a bit as the pod sped away back to the shuttle.

“What the hell was that?” asked a advisor, visibly upset.

“Terrorist attack?” shrugged another.

“Hold on…” Mr. Calamaris’ voice had a sincere seriousness to it. “Look.” Everyone crowded around the pods window as it sped past a window of the station. It was clear what had happened. They could count 6-7 civillian freighters utterly destroyed, along with the freighter with the explosives. The Navy was already on the scene, and appeared to be attempting to rescue survivers. The station appeared visibly shaken, but it was mostly intact; Its shields took most of the hit.

“Get me the Navy on the line” Calamari exclaimed. “Now.”

6

The space colony of Godforsaken land was one of the most recent colonies and therefor still much of a frontier. And it wasn’t entirely independent from the motherland on Earth either. All this had made other nations to see the Godforsakians as inferior. That was of course something they wanted to change, both the Cheloveks, the natives and the other GGodforsakian citizens.

Prince Orm Haraldsson, who descended from king Ragnar I himself, sat in a meeting with the governor to discuss weather or not New Godforsaken land should join the federation.

The governor, Janina, was the first woman of mixed blood on her post, being a half native-half earthling. She held the rank of general in the space corps and was viewed as very competent.

The prince stroke his beard. - I think it would be a good idea to send an ambassador to attend the meeting of the federation. It might increase our influence over the long term.

  • The old federation fell before we even had established a functioning government here, Janina said. - Why would we give up or independence now, for a very weak union? Godforsakia is not even invited, for Ragnar’s sake!

  • Exactly. We’ll just mingle and blend in, sow our ideas to the others and so on. After all, I intend for this planet to be more than just the lost outback of the galaxy.

The governor didn’t agree, but she was obliged to obey her senior commander in this. - Who should we send?

  • You, Janina, said the prince.
7

FRCS Svetlana, Potsov PoE, Potsov, Zislinc Oblast, FR Laiatan

The Svetlana came to a rest at its assigned mooring in the city of Potsov on Laiatan’s smallest moon, Zislinc. Due to the size of the ship, the Laiatanese Customs and Border Protection Agency had already scanned and searched the vessel, as well as going through the shipping manifest and questioning the first mate and captain - Dmitri and the old man. Following the inspection, the ship was left alone. The crew disembarked the ship, exploring the area as their first mate and captain went further into the sprawling metropolis.

Dmitri and the old man left their car parked on the side of the road as the two walked into a run-down warehouse before being stopped by several armed men.

“Orlov! Dmitri!” A raspy voice called out, the sound of footsteps on metal stairs echoing throughout the building. Orlov and Dmitri both grew small smiles when they heard their friend’s familiar voice, as well as the feeling of a gun being removed from their spine. Orlov and Dmitri turned to look up at the staircase, a man older than Orlov slowly making his way down the staircase. “I thought you two were out of the game. Good to see you again.” The older man shook the hands of the two men, motioning for them to follow him into the main room.

“Good to see you again as well, Petrov,” Orlov said with a smile, following his old friend. Petrov gave a small nod, entering the main room of the warehouse. Inside were stacks of shipping containers, some filled with the drums of Zis. “These are your crates,” Petrov mumbled, counting off the number of containers for the two. “They’re all filled up - all ten of them.” Orlov’s eyes widened when he heard the number. He pulled Dmitri off to the side roughly by his arm. “Ten? Ten containers filled with it? You told me there was only a few,” Orlov growled, grip tightening around Dmitri’s arm.

“We’ll be fine,” Dmitri muttered, managing his arm away from Orlov’s grip. He turned to Petrov, rubbing his arm gently. “All we gotta do is get it from Potsov to Danilovka, right? We have nothing to do with transit to and from the port?” Petrov nodded. “Correct. All you have to do is carry it on your ship, you get the 150 million.” Orlov was nervously biting his thumb, eyes scanning across the containers, trying to determine the amount of narcotics inside.

“Okay, we’ll meet you at the ship,” Dmitri said, shaking Petrov’s hand. Orlov nervously did the same, following Dmitri out of the warehouse into their car. “We’re so busted,” Orlov mumbled to himself as Dmitri began driving back towards the port.

8

Orbiting the Aelitian Interstellar Base’s closest moon, the ACTA Entrance Port bustles with the area’s dignitaries arriving for the bi-annual ACTA General Meeting. Donning various ceremonial, official, or simple fancy dress ensembles; the Port’s vast interior seemed more an interstellar Halloween party than a meeting of a highly influential regional trading power. The guests await their secured transport to the ACTA base in the massive post-futuristic space; jutting angles and monotones creating a desirable chaos for the space, the only colour being the Aelitian and the ACTA flags hung from the high ceiling.

A team of the ACTA designers congregated upon a balcony high in the room, hidden from the general view by the angles of the roost. Highly satisfied with the reactions given by the guests, they popped a bottle of champagne in order to celebrate a job well done. They, of course, will be rewarded greatly by the President for their successes in awing their guests with design. The President greatly stressed the importance of appearances in all aspects of his and Aelitia’s dealings and business, and ensures this personally through his powerful Inquiry Boards. All aspects of this meeting have been meticulously designed to cooperate as one coherent experience; even the transport shuttles have been manufactured specially to have the correct visual effects from the inside out. Not to mention the sprawling ACTA complexes being refaced to ensure this vision. The President spared no expense, on ACTA money, of course.

On the Aelitian Interstellar Base, the President tolerantly withstood the meticulous grooming and ‘refreshing’ of his person by his image staff. Various machines and implements circled his nude body, touching up and carefully ensuring he was up to his own standard. The machines retreated to the floor and the staff excused themselves with a curt bow to the President. He dressed alone in the long room, floor-lit and white. The outfit was the official uniform of the Commander-in-Chief of the Aelitian Armed Forces and Supreme Merchant of the Aelitian Mercantile Fleets (which were of course all redesigned for the event as well); and was a crisp white blazer featuring angular back trim across the breast and a geometrically stylized epaulet on the right shoulder. Military and Mercantile decorations featured on the left shoulder, and patches on the apexes of tight collar indicated his rank as President. He wore no official headdress, instead his team opted to leave the deep brown waves to appear as close to that of the ancient classical sculptures of the Aelitian home world as possible; evoking a sense of motion, even when still.

The President strode through the door at the end of the room; greeted by the salutes of a small contingent of Aelitian Special Forces in uniforms similar to his own, but donning black berets and unconcealed weapons. From behind the contingent, he heard the distinctive voice of the Head Inquirer above the lesser voices of the other Inquirers. “Your Most Extreme Highness!” The young-looking Head Inquirer endeavored to make himself seen from behind the soldiers. The President waved him forward and he was instantaneously admitted through the human wall, and the President could see the image designers had chosen a striking militaristic look for the young man. His eyes were lightened to nearly the brightness of that of the blue of the President’s own; his hair shaved tight to his head and a noticeable shade of blonde. He seemed wider through the shoulder and muscularly broader, as well. He bowed, and spoke to the President as though a son may speak to a father; “President Melodom, the ACTA Delegates are eagerly awaiting your arrival, but we have received a comm-” cut off by the President.

“Navarro, I shall arrive in due time. I trust everything has gone smoothly seeing as I have not received word of the otherwise.” The President had a way of making someone feel as though he were physically looking down upon them, even though Navarro had been just nearly his own height.

“Well sir, you ordered us to not interrupt your session. We have confirmation of an uninvited or unregistered craft entering ACTA Stellar Territory as of twenty three minutes ago. The Planetary Defense systems have been on stand-by awaiting Executive orders, and the Defense Fleet have taken up positions on the far side of the ACTA moon as to avoid suspicions from the Delegations.” Navarro explained, his eyes searching for any reaction in the President’s face. As usual, he appeared as though carved of a tanned marble.

“The ship carries no ACTA identification, does not have clearance, or is registered as a Delegate.” The President thought a moment, then decided. “Set up a secure video uplink directly into their ship’s cabin. This will be a personal address from myself to these intruders. If there is no answer within 30 seconds; atomize the ship and any accompanying crafts with the Early Planetary Defense Grid.” Navarro saluted dutifully and scurried off to execute these duties. The President had a feeling this may be his special Delegation for this meeting, but he wouldn’t mind eliminating him either.

Walking to the closest command station through the immaculate white halls, the President awaited the uplink. A countdown appeared as an overlay to the defensive positions in the system. Knowing LaDaverra, he would leave it to the last second. Always the rebel, this character attempted to defy inevitable Aelitian or ACTA power at every junction possible, risking his very existence.

The five second mark ticked by, and the Atomizers stationed in the orbits of the interstellar base indicated full power. On the two-second mark, the uplink fizzled into coherency. Clearly there was a difference in the technology levels of the two parties; LaDaverra functioned on previous generation technology, and it lagged when attempting to reconfigure the signal, then caught up. “Greetings,” President Melodom greeted the man, who was dressed in a white suit not similar to that of one of his Inquirers.

“Yes, yes. It is me. Now you may power down your fancy planetary defense network; I am not here to plunder any ACTA resources this time.” LaDaverra replied, seemingly annoyed. The man was the leader of one of the region’s most prominent corsair groups, and was here on the request of the Aelitian President, for a secret project unknown to the ACTA delegates.

“And nor shall you be for a long time.” The President felt confident that this could be the consolidation of regional power he had hoped for, ever since the Galactic Federation had fallen.In the power vaccuum, Aelitia had been busy securing the interests of the Trading Powers in the region under the banner of ACTA for interests other than simple trade agreements.

“You know, we are not dissimilar in our practices; except you use the guise of ACTA for your own ends.” The corsair seemed peeved by the President’s attitude, almost as though saw his very appearance as the victory he wished for. “There are powers much larger than yourself which wish to see you fall, yet you exploit the so called ‘alliance’ for your own security. Such a defense system is unheard of in this galactic area; I am surprised no one has yet to see through your smoke and mirrors. Your empire, your alliance, even yourself. It is all manufactured and they all buy into it. Your methods are the evillest of all, for they don’t understand your true intentions.” LaDaverra snarled towards the screen, and motioned to end the signal.

The signal instead remained open, the President’s face seemingly burned still into the display until he spoke quietly, “Your presence here denotes the true power of Aelitia, and of ACTA. We will reach our agreement, and we will continue fostering and consolidating our power.” Reaching regular tone, the President adds insult to injury, “You have no choice now but to agree to my commands,and you will do so with charismatic zeal. Do not test me lest you wish to become the same as star dust, floating through the cosmos as the trash you are.” With that, the communication blanked and the President left to board his personal transport to the ACTA Port.

[spoiler]
ACTA= Aelitian Constellation Trading Alliance

Okay, I am sorry this is so long, but this is legitimately the first RP post I have ever made in TEP…
[/spoiler]

9

Xoriet
Velabena, Tamolin

Chieftess Svirlara stared at the messenger in absolute astonishment, so still that the beads that habitually clinked together when she moved her multiple braids fell silent as well. “How?” she said, astonished into incoherence.

“Rusene - all communications have been broken.” His swarthy face was contorted with concern. Among the Tamolini, Rusene was the Temple where their holiest figure had descended from the skies to bring the Scripture to their then-unformed peoples. Rusene was where the decision to ultimately reject the Imperials had been made. And more importantly, Svirlara’s husband and only son were currently in the city.

“Whatever could have happened? Did the Katha use those EMPs I’ve heard so much about?”

“Chieftess, we have a problem! Rusene - the Imperials have-”

Solyst, Vavar

“INCENDIARY BOMBS??” shrieked the Mashimi, her hands tangled in her black hair.“You used INCENDIARY BOMBS on the holy place of the Tamolini?!”

Kathira looked at her without the faintest sign of guilt. “And, so?”

“What have you - we can’t afford the Tamolini to participate in asymmetrical warfare, Katha,” she almost whispered, her blue eyes wide with horror.

She smiled. “And Chieftess Svirlara has a husband and son to grieve. What perfect timing - we let our diplomat through their space defenses and then push forward. It is quite simple, yes?”

“Who could conceive of this monstrosity?” Mashimi Radlir demanded.

The Katha was utterly unrepentant. “Are you expecting me to claim responsibility? No, it was not I who devised this. It was my Generals. I permitted it.”

Her adviser was stunned into silence. “How could you? Now there is no chance of reconciliation or peace!”

“Was there ever? Anyways, Mrs. Radlir, you can leave. Make the last of the arrangements for the departure of the diplomat. She will leave in the morning, after the reaction of the Chieftess is made certain.”

Well, this was a disaster. Sarette Radlir could scarcely believe that the Katha had permitted such a vulgar act. It must be the influence of Chaos, the same flaw her father had once struggled with. She weaved through the halls, nearly bumping into many while trapped in her own personal horror. If this kept up the Aurora Empire was almost certainly to become aggressive to the point that disaster would eventually befall them.

C’aral, Qetallah

The footage of the bombs detonating in the Holy City was horrifying to behold. Incendiary bombs were the worst creation of the Aurora Empire. Fire ravaged through the streets, consuming everything in its path. Worse, the Imperials had dared to arrange for the presence of explosive substances that even broke through the thickest wall. That they had dared to disport such violence on a peaceful Tamolin settlement was, quite frankly, nightmarish.

Needless to say, Lady Armellia Daansta was sickened by the pointless slaughter. This act of violence was clearly aimed not at Tamolin, but rather the other resisting forces against the Imperials. And so was the message from the Katha of the Aurora Empire, received at precisely the moment Armellia learned about Rusene.

— Begin quote from ____

"Do keep in mind - any acquiescence to a call for aid from the enemies of the Empire will be taken as an act of aggression. The use of asymmetrical warfare on part of our Tamolini friends has, clearly, not affected our power.

— End quote

10

Aboard Presidential Transport

President Melodom stood alone in the massive viewing platform of his personal transport, satisfied with the course of his plan thus far. He will next address the ACTA Delegations and call the General Meeting to order. Though ACTA has the guise -and function- of a trading alliance, throughout the years the communiques enacted by the ACTA committees have been increasingly regarding interplanetary politics. This slow change has been calculated by the Aelitian policymakers, which planted their desired ACTA policies in allied bureaucracies to prevent negative sentiments of Aelitian dominance.

The transport rounded the moon in order to ensure the executive transport was in full view of all the delegates on the station and the moon’s welcome chamber; calculated for the maximum effect. The show, as always, was of utmost importance.

Aelitian Research Base, Second Moon

Stiletto footsteps echoed like gunshots throughout the extensive network of hallways and atriums of the Prime Research Base; signalling the arrival of the Presidential Inquirer for Science and Technology. Petra was a lithe woman, striking in her slick appearance. Silvery blonde hair gathered in a pin-straight pony tail, and her eyes the recently fashionable striking blue. She wears an ensemble similar to that of the other Inquirers, yet sleeker and featuring the special decorations of her offices.

Being the first to hold both the titles of Inquirer for Science and Inquirer for Technology simultaneously, Petra is an extremely gifted researcher and visionary. Recognized at a tremendously young age, she has been trained intensively to fulfil the roles bestowed upon her. Research teams directed by her have achieved tremendous breakthroughs and innovation in all fields of science.

Reaching the atrium assigned to her, she strides to the desk in the centre of the circular room. The domed ceiling display sparked to life, welcoming her with images of flora and fauna on a recently surveyed moon of a nearby star system. Her desk illuminates as well, having identified her, and displays briefs of ongoing and proposed scientific studies, as well as copies of new technologies to be approved to be tested.

She manipulated the files with small movements in the air; confirming a study on the advanced applications of the Casimir effect, denying and reprimanding a brief on a revised unified theory of physics, approving and assigning a team of field researchers for a xeno-anthropological study of the far-off planet of Xoriet, and finally augmenting details on a couple of the blueprints. Finalizing her decisions, she was thankful she was allowed to be absent from the ACTA proceedings taking place over these couple days due to her taking on of a special project from the President. After her brief moment to herself, she began focusing on the monumental task ahead of her; of course she of all people would be able to figure out this complicated scenario.

11

Cielyst, Libella

“We are apparently to have guests from the Aelitian system, Gracen.” Soraila Kanalyr was the successor to the position of High Sage. Where the High Sage had surprisingly ordinary looks that most attributed to her half-Quetallan blood, her Acolyte was as typically attractive as most Imperials. Her long hair was a brown so dark it was virtually black. Her eyes were an unusual shade of pale blue and her complexion very fair.

Gracen Kanalyr turned and studied her enthusiastic Acolyte with an assessing gaze. Her dark eyes took in the excitement of Soraila with a sort of tolerant humor. “Yes, I do believe the Katha mentioned this to me recently.”

“I’ve never seen anyone from another planet before.”

“It is not as grand as all that, Soraila. But I will let you draw your own conclusions,” replied the High Sage. “And remember that we must keep them away from Cavori. The influence of Xo is not to be underestimated. Just look at our illustrious Katha. She verges on being the embodiment of our mistakes.”

Soraila’s enthusiam had melted slightly at the mention of Kathira Beralis, and for good reason. No-one had forgotten the Rusene incident only hours before.

Rusene, Tamolin

The devastation was appalling. Chieftess Svirlara was at a total loss as she surveyed the smoking ruins of the destroyed city. Part of her hoped that her husband and son had departed from the city before the Imperial atrocity. Her rational mind knew perfectly well that they would have contacted her if that had been the case.

How could that heartless brat do this, how could she? No, the better question was: Why had she resorted to this? She inhaled deeply and focused on controlling her emotions. Now was not the time to break down, though she dearly wished to do so. Needless to say, she sensed that this was deliberately engineered to provoke Svirlara into premature action. She had to control the urge to make a move. There was no other option available to her.

At this moment Svirlara was in no state to make rational decisions. The Katha, curse the day she had been spawned, would have predicted that. For now she would do nothing.

Perhaps if she contacted the other Outlanders it would benefit her. Yes, that sounded reasonable enough.

12

FRCS Svetlana, Lower Laiatan Atmosphere

The Svetlana was on a collision course with the planet following the discovery of the Zis on board by the LCBPA, which led to a pursuit of the vessel by Republic military fighters. Luckily for the crew of the Svetlana, they had managed to make it back to the planet’s atmosphere - something rarely achieved by Zis smugglers. Unfortunately the ship’s engines were dead and burning, holes in its hull from the onslaught of Republic military fire. Much of the crew had boarded escape pods, only to be pursued and apprehended by police forces on the planet’s surface. The rest were dead, save for Orlov and Dmitri who were still on board, fighting for control of the multi-million rubla vessel and cargo.

Republic fighters continued to chase the crippled ship through the atmosphere, dodging bits and pieces of ship as it began to break up.

“We have to get out of here!” Dmitri shouted over the roar of the quickly descending ship and alarm bells, occasional explosions rocking the vessel. “I told you! I told you this would happen!” Orlov responded, still struggling to pull the ship out of its dive - but to no avail. Dmitri finally reached Orlov, grabbing his arm and pulling him from the controls. “We have to get to the escape pod!” Dmitri shouted as Orlov shrugged his hand from his arm, returning to the controls. “Go. I’m not going back to that moon. Not to Chernobog, that gulag. Besides, a captain always goes down with his ship.”

Dmitri simply shook his head, grabbing his friend’s arm once again and pulling him back. At the same time, he pulled a pistol from behind his back. “Consider this a mutiny.” Orlov rolled his eyes, another large explosion rocking the ship - getting Dmitri off balance. Orlov kicked Dmitri over, wrestling the pistol away from him and firing a shot into Dmitri’s leg. “You’ll thank me later,” Orlov muttered, standing up and dragging Dmitri into the escape pod, inputting coordinates from the outside control panel. “No!” Dmitri cried out as he managed to get to his feet, hand on the wound as the pod door shut, firing from the ship as Orlov waved goodbye.

Dmitri watched in horror as several missiles from the pursuing Republic fighters sent explosions ripping through the once proud Svetlana, all but ensuring the death of Orlov and his last wish to die with his ship.

Multiple hovercraft with federal police markings circled Dmitri’s pod as it slowly came to a rest on the surface of the planet safely. One hovercraft landed, dispatching several uniformed officers that approached the pod carefully, opening up the door and keeping their weapons on Dmitri. He could do nothing but raise his arms in surrender as he was ripped from the pod and taken into federal custody. As he was led to paramedics, he saw the remains of the Svetlana burning in the distance.

13

Chernobog Federal Work Camp, Zislinc Oblast, FR Laiatan

Orlov was absolutely right. Dmitri was thanking him, every single day. The bullet sent through his leg prohibited him from working the more intense labor. Even the brutal Laiatanese criminal justice system knew where to draw the line when it came to injuries and pre-existing conditions. Sure, his leg would be fully healed in a few months - but that meant a few easier months in his sentence. Dmitri carefully got up, marking a line indicating the day on the inside cover of one of his books.

He knew it was absolutely pointless - he’d run out of books far before the end of his sentence. After his speedy trial, the judge decided to make an example of him and “grant” him with the second highest sentence allowed: life with hard labor. Dmitri figured his body would give out in ten, maybe fifteen years. Maybe he’d get lucky and get transferred over to a prison. Make license plates instead of mine ore. Of course, his wound prevented him from executing his sentence immediately. He got admin duty for a few months until his leg fully healed.

Dmitri slowly made his way into the cafeteria where breakfast was being served. Every day, 6 am sharp. Prisoners were awoken from their slumber at 5:45 am every day by the military wakeup call - used partly as a way to taunt the prisoners. Those who didn’t immediately leave their cells or refused to get up were forced from their beds and cells by beatings. This usually only happens three or four times before everyone understands what’ll happen to them when they don’t obey the guards. There hadn’t been a beating at this particular camp for almost five months. Word of mouth from other prisoners is extremely effective.

As Dmitri picked up a tray and made his way slowly through the line of fellow prisoners, finally receiving his food. The food was certainly the only benefit of being locked up in a work camp. You were fed well and taken care of medically. What good are starved, sick prisoners in a work camp? Dmitri limped his way over to a table, taking a seat on the bench near a few friends he had made in the offices. The four men sat in silence as they began slowly eating and enjoying their breakfast. You’re sent to work as soon as you’re done eating, with a thirty minute time limit to eat your meal. If you’re smart, you take all thirty minutes.

The work bell sounded throughout the camp, telling everyone that it was time to work. The prisoners lined up single file, and followed the guards to their respective work sites. Some went out to the mines while Dmitri and a few others went towards the offices.

14

Rulion, Upson Arietis
Jaoken pushed his way through the crowded street and up to the gates of the golden palace. He was tall with black straggly hair and exotic jewellery. The guards frowned at him and quickly opened the vast wooden doors for him to enter. Being back in the capital he was feeling underwhelmed at every turn. Jaoken decided to be dampened no more and was pleased to see the trees had grown more beautiful in his absence and the gardens were adorned by plentiful flowers that he’d never seen before.

Two more guards were waiting at the start of the great hall and they smiled jovially and waved him through. Jaoken walked along the extraordinarily long corridor of the great hall and admired the tapestries that were hanging along it. The first was a happy scene of children playing and animals lying in fields, surrounded by trees and birds and the glorious sunshine. The next tapestry was very dark, it depicted witches and wizards against a starry night sky and a large army marching towards them.

Finally Jaoken reached the end and met with the King. King Rushash was already talking to one of his advisors.

“And this is what I’ve been telling you about, Chaos is the way forward. We can’t resign ourselves to mediocrity and stagnation.” said Varian, the advisor who had the King’s attention at this moment. “There is a lot of potential in these doctrines and your only option here is to take a Chance, you’ll regret it otherwise.”

King Rushash motioned for his advisor to be quiet. “Jaoken, welcome back! Glad to see you made it. How was your journey?”

“Long, very long, my liege. Being captured I was in Chernobog for seven years, if you remember? I did learn a lot more about Laiataian piracy while I was in there though, enough to get hold of a ship after my release. The ATCT made the rest of the journey very taxing indeed.”

“Yes, yes. That’s terrible. You gained from the experience though. What advice do you have for me?” At this, the King sat back in his mauve cushioned throne and rested his curly blond haired head onto his hand to one side. He seemed so relaxed and receptive now."

“The trade routes that we are now losing to Aelitia will mean eventually we won’t have the military budget to defend the ones we still have. We used to outshine Aelitia in the Galactic Federation but now they are outclassing us. We need to move dynamically. Privateering is the answer. We withdraw the vessels we had defending the lost trade routes and we refit them with stronger armaments, hunt down rival ships and plunder them.”

“It’s so simple, it might work!” The King said with a triumphant air. “Now there is another matter to attend to, the meeting of the Galactic Federation. Ambassador Zoshi! You are needed. Go and represent me at the annual summit, and I need you to actually pay attention to the details. I went myself last year and I really didn’t get anything substantial from it at all. You will enjoy it though, Old Federalia is a very charming place, I hope there is more going on this year.”

15

Aelitian Research Transport Vessel B-391
Destination: Xoriet

A cohort of five Aelitians dispatched on this mission were aboard the transport ship. Having departed quickly after a confirmation by the Presidential Inquirer, the team had made significant progress towards their destination. Three field researchers and two technicians comprised the team, one technician being the only male on board.

A curt conversation regarding survey specifics was terminated prematurely by an alert from the onboard AI, “Destination: Planet Xoriet is within readying distance”. This sparked the crew to re assume their posts in the Comm Post and Surface Transport Vessels. A second, unexpected alert sounded as the Xoriet Star system came into long-range view- “Notice: Confirmation of isolated violence on the surface. Require executive override to land. Requesting executive override.” The onboard AI locked down control panels to the crew as it sent its encoded request through the Long-Range-Relay-System. Stills of smoke plumes and explosions cascaded through the crew’s HUDs as they were sent to Mission Command. As the confirmation sounded through the AI, the control panels unlocked and the crew proceeded to prepare for orbit.

In orbit, the AI undertook detailed scans of the surface while the researchers stocked the entry vessel. Most of the transport ship was tasked to the orbit of the planet, and one of the two entry vessels was tasked to carry the researchers to the surface. The orbiting infrastructure was committed to communications and surface backup. The entry vessel itself was prepped for a potentially rough landing considering the current landing zone was estimated to be the city of Ahrelyna, a newly targeted region of the planet. Upon the AI confirmation, the entry ship was released and directed itself to the surface.

Tearing through the thick smoke in the atmosphere, the landing vessel blazed like a bright white star cutting across the sky. The researchers were being directed by the AI as what to concentrate on, when it noted the condition of the city as lower than expected. Tar black plumes of smoke rose around the city, casting long shadows on the desolate landscape.
“Local intelligence has confirmed location. City:Ahrelyna. Region: Cavori.” The AI chimed.
“AI, request local intelligence on the status of the city, focus: recent events.” A researcher found the severe depreciation of the region in such a short time odd.
“Local intelligence has confirmed recent events. Tribe ordered annihilation of surrounding cities of Ahrelyna.”
“So noted.” The researcher rose from her seat as the vessel neared the surface.

The view was both of the untouched defensive stronghold of Ahrelyna and its unfortunate neighbour cities. The craft then received instruction from local AI on landing zones, and slowly descended to the surface at the appointed spot. As the vessel settled softly on the surface, the researchers embarked on the surface. Their craft and ensembles brilliantly reflecting any light which filtered through the dense cloud cover, the researchers awaited the Xoriet welcome.

16

Xoriet
Ahrelyna, Cavori

The Territory of Cavori was almost entirely an endless plain of rust-red dirt and rubble as far as any eye could see. Great plateaus altered the landscape, rising dramatically above the otherwise utterly flat, barren expanse. Though it might seem to the casual observer that this Territory should thus be completely uninhabited, it was populous enough to contradict any such assumption. In particular it was a place that the Priests of Chance gathered, and the influence of Xo was strongest within the heart of the Territory. Fortunately, this particular area was several hundred miles away from the Stronghold of Xo and thus quite safe for the Aelitians.

Reisal Nerasi had waited for quite some time for the arrival of the Aelitian research party. Rarely had he emerged from Solyst since the Chieftess of the vast nation of Tamolin had authorized a strike against lesser cities within the bounds of the Aurora Empire. Cavori, being the least populous of the Territories, was deemed ideal. The Chieftess was still incandescently enraged, but she was not a fool. Her enemy, the Katha, had access to a frightful number of large-scale weapons and could easily retort with a more devastating attack if she decided that it was necessary. There was a reason why the Aurora Empire was so feared. Once it had simply been that their grasp of technology and advanced weaponry that was a direct threat. Presently they were feared because of their illustrious Katha.

The man, black haired like many citizens of the Empire with a tracery of silver at the temples glanced at the watch adorning his left wrist as the Aelitian craft landed securely on the elevated platform. His elaborately carved bronze wristwatch was a fairly quaint method of tracking time, but he always had been one to appreciate relics. After all, to Reisal there was just something about digital time that quite lacked the sheer elegance of analog time. Especially with this custom-made watch, passed down through the family for a number of centuries. It was in a long time past that anything of an analog nature was used by the inhabitants of the Empire.

The Aelitian ship was interesting enough, quite different from the spacecraft of Xoriet. His amber eyes, the vividness of their hue unusual for anyone outside of the Aurora Empire, examined it with marked interest. As much as he favored the classics, he did not eschew the present at all. That would, naturally, be quite foolish.

As they landed, he walked towards the ship, flanked by a number of guards whose bored expressions were an indication of just how little threat they truly thought the Aelitian researchers to possess.

When at last the long-expected guests emerged from their ship, he put on his most benevolent smile and bowed extravagantly.

“Welcome to Xoriet, friends. Particularly to the pinnacle of civilization, the Aurora Empire,” he said urbanely as he rose from the bow.

17

ACTA Headquarters, Aelitian Moon

The large crowd stood and applauded the keynote speech of President Melodom, which introduced his nominations for the Standing and Executive committees of the alliance. Mainly Aelitians, the list also included many strong trading powers and even some rumored dissidents. As the crowd was seated, the President remained at the podium. This stirred confused whispering in the crowd, though the Aelitian Officials knew what was next.

The expansive displays behind the President flicked to life with the image of LaDaverra’s Pirate fleet en route to the ACTA Headquarters. Angry and concerned voices sounded in the crowd, silenced by the President’s raised hand. “Do not worry, allies. This pirate threat is immaterial to the might of ACTA.” The President allowed a small silence, then suddenly the rear ship was engulfed in a blinding light. “Thankfully friends, our new Planetary Defense Network has the capabilities to annihilate or intercept threats in this system.” Another ship engulfed in the light, leaving only negligible traces of the ship which was once there. “This is the fate which awaits those who cross this illustrious alliance.” Another annihilated, leaving only the flagship. “The invader was identified to be the infamous Corsair LaDaverra. What better a candidate for appropriation into our expanding Offensive Fleets?” The communication channel to the pirate opened on the screen, and the Pirate begged for mercy and submitted to ACTA’s power. The crowd erupted in cheer and applause at the power play made by the President.

“With this development we not only gain a significant boost to our offensive capabilities, but we no longer shall concern ourselves with the pirate presence in our trade missions.” Schematics and 3D models of the ships flashed on screen, exhibiting the newest tech available and refaced to match the Aelitian fleets. The sleek geometric ships were stark white and matted greys. “ACTA has reached a critical juncture. We must exceed our previous capacity as a trading power; we must evolve and take on a new role under the flag of ACTA. We must act as one political power source and ensure that our solidarity empowers us in galactic affairs! We must re-engage with the remaining states of the Galactic Federation in order to ensure that our new role is recognized!”

The crowd was in an uproar, cheering and screaming for the new power of the alliance. From the podium, the President looked on at the sea of colours and bobbing heads. The columns surrounding the crowd and the ceiling of the room began to pulsate and shimmer, timed to begin the show as the speech was concluded. Of course the President did not elaborate on the drastic increase of membership dues in this upcoming step at this point, as this session was over. It is up the Executive and Standing Committees now, and those delegates are easily persuaded.

Exiting the facility and returning to his transport, the President continued formulating his moves up to attending the Galactic Federation meeting.

Xoriet
Ahrelyna, Cavori

The three women took in the appearance of the native man, and the Head Researcher returned his bow. It was policy for the Head Researcher to follow the example of the natives in greeting, copying their motions until traditional practices can be confirmed. The other two women remained still with their hands clasped in front of them.

“Thank you for your kind welcome. I am the Head Researcher in this mission, and the two behind me are the supporting Researchers.” The woman’s voice had a stern quality but became softer on the vowels, meaning she hailed from the Northern Coastal region on Aelitia. “As you may know, we are here to simply observe your culture and society. We mean to be the least intrusive as possible, and thank you for your hospitality.”

Waiting for the man’s response, one of the back researchers added, “Please do however, feel free to introduce yourself to our Research AI, ARIA. Standing for ARtificial Intelligence Aelitia, ARIA is a new system paradigm we have implemented.” From a side pocket of her bodysuit, she produced a small disk with an array of projectors embedded in one side, and handed it to the man. “This is a unit designed to interact with in order to learn more about your culture. Simply turn it on by letting ARIA know you would like to introduce yourself, and she will guide you through surveys and interactive research tools. Feel free to pass it on when ARIA knows you.” A curt smile from the researcher attempted to ensure him that it is safe.

“With that, we would ask whether we will have someone to guide us around the area, or are we left autonomous during this mission?” The head researcher asked the man, eyeing the analog timepiece on his wrist and ensuring ARIA logged its use.

18

Xoriet
Ahrelyna, Cavori

Reisal regarded the unfamiliar device with marked interest, though his expression was unreadable. “Fascinating,” he murmured.

He did not introduce himself quite yet, however. The man had more pressing matters to address at this particular moment. His posture straightened as he turned his assessing gaze on the Aelitian research party. Their accents were softer than the sharp nature of the secondary languages of the peoples of Xoriet. Though the Imperials were fluent in this common language there was the faintest tracery of an accent even in the most accomplished specialists of the shared method of communication.

“Of course you shall have a guide during your time here. Though everyone in the Empire is educated to speak the common tongue during primary school, our native languages tend to take precedence in most activities, particularly among the outlying settlements. First, however, your presence has been requested by the Katha of the Aurora Empire.”

There was an iron cast to his exact phraseology, though his tone remained amiable and urbane, that indicated that this was a summons rather than an invitation. Even his smile gave no signs that a refusal to accept was not an option available to them.

“There are very dangerous things in the Empire that need to be explained by her,” he finished, taking away the dangerous implications with that statement. "The trip is long, and you will be able to observe much from the safety of the Craft. "

Now he indicated a functionally sizeable Craft a landing platform away. The transportation was a purely white vessel with only a clear shield at the forefront and sides of translucent panes of a strange metal that would reach up to the shoulders of a seated adult for closure. The rest of the Craft, save a flawlessly white canvas enforced underneath by plates of that same strange, translucent metal, was completely open. Typically a Craft would be completely closed, but to aid in research purposes a specialized Craft had been prepared specially for the Aelitian party.

The absolute whiteness of the Craft would typically be painful to the eyes if an attendant to Reisal was not passing out tinted glasses to protect the vision of those who had only just walked out of a vessel. After all, it was important to Reisal that the researchers were kept hale and whole during their stay.[hr]Somewhere In The Galaxy
Xorietian Model X-TSC59 SpaceCraft

“Be careful with that,” a woman snapped as a man gingerly bearing a sizeable missile unintentionally knocked the end of the A-Class explosive into the frame of the hangar door. He cringed at the harsh note in her voice, knowing that when his Cahals was irritated she could become excessive in her punishments.

Per’phyri Khlaed was not a beautiful woman. Her face was not precisely unattractive, but her angular features were too sharp for classic beauty and her eyes were an uncanny shade of fiery orange that contrasted with her icily pale complexion. Her hair, a similarly vivid orange, was worn cropped close to her skull for functional purposes with fighting. Though she was certainly female, it was not apparently evident when one looked at her tall, muscular build that seemed, all powerful physique aside, androgynous, even more so with the loose cut of her black shirt and pants. Taller than most men and her face marred with a scar that stretched across her broad forehead and cut down through one eyebrow to extend down to her angular jawline, she would never be the type of woman a man would willingly seek out. Her forbidding expression and demeanor added to the dangerous look of the woman.

In her line of occupation, soft, feminine beauty would have been wasted. Per’phyri was, alternately, a pirate and a bounty hunter when the price was right. Her crew had the same hard look that she did, but they were all men. Most of them could not hope to match the inherent threat in everything their Cahals said or did. Even when scowling and standing next to a reasonably pleasant Per’phyri, they were dwarfed in terms of an intimidating aura.

Before leaving the planet, Per’phyri had stolen a Model X-TC12 SpaceCraft. It had been, with the best of care, a very uncomfortable vessel to take into deep space. After a year of expensive, frequent repairs of her unstable SpaceCraft she had been forced to resort to robbing merchant vessels to make ends meet. It was not until she began to collect a crew and secure more protected vessels carrying more valuable cargo that she was eventually able to obtain a Model X-TSC59 SpaceCraft.

Now with a crew of forty men, a surplus of wealth, a stock of powerful weaponry, and a SpaceCraft of excellent speed and build, Per’phyri was a very successful pirate.

There was no need for physical appeal when the wealth of the galaxy was hers for the taking.