NiNES: A Broken Galaxy

[Erik Mesoy]

OOC: Hah I am king of awful dialogs and narrations.

OOC: Yes but have you sent orders?

OOC: Niklas, I'd like to start a sort of militia project to arm my citiziens, especially on frontier worlds, to dissuade invasion. And it fits with the caricature of my faction as America. Which brings me to my next subject, the various RL nations that I have with some help determined the factions to represent:

Emergents: America. Only without Dubya. Lots of economic muscle and a power broker.
Cybrans: Iran or Algeria. Nutcases that we don't want too much to do with.
Furians: Texas. Well, if we had had an independent Texas. Warlike, allied to America, not much else to describe them.
Nekomi: Borat's Kazakhstan. It really is not as bad as made out to be, and has its own unique culture, and is nice as soon as you get over your prejudices.
USC: Superpower edition of Switzerland. I think we determined this over in While We Wait.
Sezuren: Either France or China. China because it's a one party state that's only now catching up economically, France because it has old and good but rather strained relations with 'America'. Not sure.
Huris: Australia. Big, peaceful, everybody forgets about them. (I originally lumped Huris and Sezuren together as Australia.)
NAM: Japan. Technologically advanced fringe people who we think are a little odd, but we buy their stuff.
Capella: Zimbabwe, which also has a caste system consisting of white people, black opposition, and black party supporters, only the Capellans are hotter.
Ascendancy: North Korea. Isolationist, citiziens aren't allowed to communicate outside.
Kalia: Italy. Religious tradition, nice place in general.
Wrath: Syria. Makes trouble.

 

[Kozmos]

Yaarrrders sent. Stories to follow perhaps.

 

[Niklas]

Deadline passed some time ago, still one set of orders unaccounted for. Please my minions, go to the LINESII thread and tell the dear mod to send orders NAO!

Nah, don't do that, really I'd prefer if you didn't.

 

[Massive Attack]

Doesn't stop you from giving me *my* information

 

[Niklas]

Umm, Massive Attack, I don't know what you're expecting here, but... judging by recent updates, Saturday is a most likely update time.

In the mean time, you can all keep writing stories.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Deadline passed some time ago, still one set of orders unaccounted for. Please my minions, go to the LINESII thread and tell the dear mod to send orders NAO!

Nah, don't do that, really I'd prefer if you didn't.

Sorry, there was a power outage this morning and (It's 5:00 PM PST right now) I had homework to do all last night.

Orders incoming.

 

[alex994]

North Korea??? The Ascendancy aren't researching some massive technological weaponry Hey, the citizens themselves prefer not to have outside dealings! Blame some bad experiences in their people's past with the West and a country named the United States of America

 

[Nylan]

Italy, or New Rome?

I may write something at some point...but it won't be up tonight in any case.

 

[Erik Mesoy]

Italy, or New Rome?

Probably New Rome, given your offer of [redacted for security reasons]. Otherwise, Italy. Now go and invade some (more) nearby factions to that you can actually look vaguely Roman.

STORY:

Admiral Bartholomew was roughly shaken awake. "Admiral Bartholomew, the PS Razor is ready for you! Wake up!"
Bartholomew stirred. It was earlier than usual, and the awakening scent hadn't kicked in yet. "Turn Light On", he muttered, voice-activating said illumination.
"Injection, sir?" The woman shaking him awake offered him a small syringe.
"Oh yes. Thanks." Bartholomew remembered the reason for this, and tried not to think too hard as he pressed the syringe against his skin. The computer-guided tip veered away from nerves and deposited a small quantity of serum before withdrawing.
"Good. Come along now." The woman waved a man in, and they carried Bartholomew to a spartanly furnished room with projectors dotting the corners and walls, all behind glass. The two left Bartholomew on the chair and left. As they closed the door behind him, the holographic simulators activated.

Bartholomew found himself on the bridge of the Razor.

"Orders, sir? Sorry about dragging you out of bed so early, but we couldn't miss our maiden flight, could we?"
Bartholomew looked about for the source of the voice, recognized the uniform of his second-in-command, didn't quite recognize the face.
"Get me some coffee. Red. And tell me where we are."
"We're in the hangar. The roof has been dismantled."
Red coffee arrived, and Bartholomew accessed the datapads in front of him. They were all holographic simulations, but they seemed real in his drug-induced dream state. Haptic rediscoveries enabled the holograph projectors to very precisely stimulate the skin of his fingers just enough to convince him that he was touching solid objects. taptaptap went Bartholomew's limber digits across the keypad.
"Take us up. Above commercial vehicle altitude." Bartholomew left the details to subordinates, looking for more data on their flight plan. Much of it seemed to be up to him.
"Doing so, sir. Twenty seconds."
"Impressive." Bartholomew replied. "Aha. Tactical display." The scene around Bartholomew shifted to a somewhat filtered view of the outside. Benalia the star was noticeably dimmed so that he could look at it directly, and little green boxes outlined his two escort craft, common issue Hunter Killers.
"Set a course, sir!" called the second in command from a cloud, his voice muffled, his face gone.
"Set a Great Circle about the planet - pull us up above emergency altitude and let's see what kind of speed we have."
"Do you want to do it yourself, sir?"
"How?"
"Giving you controls now, Admiral! Wait a second for download of steering practice."
Bartholomew found metallic, rugged iron bars of an old-fashion sort materializing in his hands. "Oh, excellent." A moment later, he knew how to use them, too, the information streaming through his neck node. He hauled on the controls, and watched as the planet began to move beneath him.

As they passed over the Ocean of Laurels, Bartholomew mused that it would be over far too quickly. He was rudely interrupted by a poke in his side, causing him to twist the controls, which in turn rotated the view around him. "VACK whatever vacking moron did that-"
"Sir, you'll have to relinquish control! You have drug problems!"
"What?" Bartholomew was poked again. "All right!" He released the iron bars, and heaven and earth straightened themselves as the prime navigator took over. His vision blurred, but it didn't change back to the bridge of the PS Razor. Instead it was a room full of lights and lamps -

"Very clever, Admiral Bartholomew. Taking various antitoxins and not telling anyone." It was the man who had carried him into this room. "You were standing up and bumping into the desk. No amount of haptics could hide that. And you were resistant to the inducer - I suppose you always use a suit? No matter, the point is that your attempt to practice on the Razor was countered by your own paranoia. You were only in that simulation for about five minutes - the inducer is supposed to last for a day or so. So it started coming apart."
"Oh." Bartholomew was somewhat crestfallen. "I get it from a private supplier. Can't tell you anything, sorry. I'll stop taking it next week."
"No, don't stop. This just means you'll have to live in the habitat modules of the real Razor. Welcome to command, Admiral Bartholomew."

OOC: Go go gadget BATTLESHIP!

 

[Nylan]

Whatever happened to the peace-loving Emergents we all know so well?

 

[Niklas]

Just a quick combined statement and teaser that this update looks to take the longest thus far - not (mainly) due to procrastination on my part, but due to its eventful nature...

 

[Nylan]

Class is in Session​

“Terraforming is and always has been, an art. Begun by the Chinese in the early StellarColonial era, it was intended as a way to make habitation easier, or in some cases possible, on all known worlds.”

A light flashed on the side of the holoscreen.

“Yes XZ-7?”

“How come the Hong Kong airport and most landscaping projects don’t count as terraforming?”

“That’s a good question. Terraforming by definition is large scale, vastly large scale. In fact, if you’d care to use a search engine, you would discover that Terraforming is alteration of landscape and habitat of a specific area, spanning a minimum distance of one continent, to make it more habitable and therefore productive.”

Another light flashed, this one belonging to CR-12

“How come they decided it has to be big to be Terraforming?”

“Well, it didn’t always used to be that way. A long time ago, any modification to the land was ‘technically’ terraforming, but nobody called it terraforming. It was just landscaping, gardening, etc. Terraforming was commonly referred to as a project, because they were…they were very large scale projects that many people knew about. Over time, it became so mainstream that it became the definition. Languages evolve, they grow with the cultures that speak them. Otherwise they die, Latin for example. However, that’s a topic for another time…”

“Thank you Miss Prence”

“Don’t thank me. Questions are necessary for growth and development. Now anyways, back on track.

Terraforming by nature is incredibly complicated and difficult. The operation requires knowledge of the whole of the biosphere in which it will take place. Even just adjusting the atmosphere requires vast amounts of knowledge and expertise. The chemical makeup of the atmosphere must be known in all locations of the globe, pressure must be observed and researched to find the optimal level of Pascals for the desired environment, etc. The ways the geography would be affected, the change of wind speeds, the survival of flora and fauna, the temperature, all can be affected by changing the chemical makeup of the atmosphere.

The number of researchers, surveyors, engineers, and specialists necessary for such a job results in what would normally be a very decentralized unit. For decades workers just cobbled everything together as best they could with the given resources and specifications of the contractor. It was a mess, and was very unprofessional. However, that all changed with Kali Corp.

Kali Corporation was founded by Kristofer Kali in 2450 in an effort to make colonization more profitable. Having a central council of of advisors from each specialty and an executive whose sole job was to balance out the coordination, along with many other administrative innovations gave Kali Corp the competitive edge. They forged ahead, researching new methods and technologies in the broad scientific fields necessary for Terraforming at an alarming rate. First national governments, and then the corporations that pulled their strings began to contract Kali Corp on a regular basis. Luxury planets were designed. Some were summer getaways. Others were refuges from persecution, for the likes of Neo-Zoroastrians. Business was booming.

The Corporation was in fact advancing so fast that Kristofer, in his old age, began to believe his was a God. He began wasting his money away on extravagant living. His financing went down the drain. He bought a planet, and had it personally Terraformed to be nothing but a blue orb with a smiley face – akin to the bomberman world of 20th century video games – made of nothing but grass on a symmetrical hill in the center. He was losing touch with reality.

His twin sons, Kyle and Kent, killed him in his sleep, not wanting him to hold the company back. They poured more money into the company, pushing it forwards and upwards until the two brothers were among the richest men in the galaxy. However, what goes up must come down, even in space. In 2482 Kent began to deal in arms, seeing the great wealth to be gained from such lucrative business. He left the corporation to start his own company, Kent Arms. He had mild success before being bought out by Shuurai Heavy Industries in 2485. Kyle was left to run the family business alone.

He was an unstable child, prone to common sickness and frailty that even 25th century medicine could not account for. It did not appear to be part of his genes, it was not a disease or a virus. He was just…weak…both mentally and physically. The strain of running a company wore heavily on him for the next three years, as he struggled to keep the company headed in a moral direction. About this time most corporations were sabotaging each other, breaking international laws, wantonly murdering opposition and bribing government officials. Kyle, being exceptionally spiritual (a side effect of his weakness, perhaps?), battled hard to keep the company respectable. He succeeded, and while it was difficult, to him it was worth it. He was never guaranteed to be paid fully in any contract, but contracts were offered left and right. Kali Corp was the only trustworthy organization in the galaxy. Little did Kyle know, however, that great trials were ahead.

Now, any questions so far?”

“No Miss Prence.”

“Good. Well, I suppose that’s enough for the day. We will continue with the decline of Kali Corporation tomorrow. Don’t forget to write your 250 word essays on “The Ethics of Greed” by Thursday!”

“Yes, ma’am”

Shannon flicked her wrist, seemingly brushing away a fly. The hologram minimized, leaving her in the complete darkness of the late night hours, comforted only by the hum of the life support systems and the faint aroma of carpet cleaners.

“Those five year olds are growing up so fast….I’m gonna miss them.”

The then arose from her chair with a creak, and tiptoed across the hall out of the computer lab and into her dormitory, in order to catch at least a little shuteye before drilling began the next morning. As she pulled off her clothes and climbed into bed, she bumped her still tender shin into the side of her bed. A sharp intake of air was sounded…but luckily the rest of the girls were sound asleep. Curse you Ardus…you’re going to pay for this day. Mark my words…you will pay.

She was upset for a moment or two, but it was not long before dreams of home awaited her…and fantasies. Fantasies of a happy life. A life with a real family. A life with people who cared about her. A life with a loved one. A familiar face fleeted through her consciousness at this warm thought, but just as she tried to grasp it, to reel it in and clear away the fog in an attempt to recognize the bearer, it scattered like mist in a downpour. As consciousness slipped away, the face returned…and a smile flitted across her face.

Maybe life wasn’t so bad after all

 

[Nylan]

Just a quick combined statement and teaser that this update looks to take the longest thus far - not (mainly) due to procrastination on my part, but due to its eventful nature...

Oooooh, aaaaaahhh......


......hope I don't get pwned

 

[Massive Attack]

"F.O.B. Central City," the man said the wordsconfirming the delivery of the goods.

Tobias Boon nodded, handing over the bills of lading. Boon was the captain of the Swift Dart, a small freighter ship that ferried goods between systems. The term for his type was "trucker," an anachronism to a older system of transportation, a land system. Still, he was his own business man, operating the "tramp freighter."

Recent years had been a boon to independant trucking as Sezuren began a policy of heavy colonization. Colonies required stuff to build, expand, and grow; the homeworld required raw materials to produce refined goods back to the colonies. At least, that's how Tobias undestood the concept, if he remembered college economics correctly.

This year, the "boom colony" was Tseang Tseng. Sezuren had recently placed colonists on the planet, and now was investing heavily in its growth. Fully two-thirds of Boon's contracts as a carrier were to Tseang Tseng. The colony's growth was significant, and the rapid growth had put some strains on the place. For Tobias, the worst part was the immense growth in traffic to the colony.

So far, there was only one official Sezuren spaceport on the planet, here at Central City. The spaceport however, wasn't much compared to other planets. It consisted of about a dozen dug-in, somewhat shallow "pits" in the ground. These were the official landing pits, built by colonists to handle "expected" traffic. Of course, government officials always play down their estimates, and the spaceport was overwhelmed. Most freighters land in empty plots on the eastern side of the port, on open ground and fully exposed. Tobias had done this several times himself, this instance included.

The man Tobias was handing the documents to was an agent of one of Sezuren's mid-sized companies. This company had missed the boat on early colonization to other planets, and now was getting on board at Tseang Tseng. Tobias had freighted a load of small equipment and parts.

"So have any run-ins with the white jesus nutjobs?" Tobias asked the rep, deciding to make small-talk while the guy reviewed the docs.

"Yeah, they come around to our side every so often, preaching this, that, and the other thing. We just tell them off."

"I heard they can be a bit uppitidy."

"You can say that again. Look, I don't have anything against them. But, you know, we've had to take them behind the barn and beat the fark out of them a couple times. Sometimes, just gotta beat the point into them."

"Don't you get in trouble for that?"

"Officially, the governor has sent a reprimand, apology whatnot, but on the side, they don't care. The govm'ts so overwhelmed with the growth... it's not a big issue."

Tobias gave a snort. He couldn't imagine trying to live on a "joint colony" world. Of course, that was probaly why the federation decided to pay of the furballs rather than joint colonize with them. If the crazy priests of the Emergents were this much problem, Tobias couldn't even imagine the things going down with the Nekomi.

"Alright, everything seems in order." Said the other man, signing the documents and handing the reciepts to Tobias. "We'll start unloaded the pallets. Shouldn't take more than a few hours."

Tobias nodded. Another job well-done.

 

[Erik Mesoy]

Whatever happened to the peace-loving Emergents we all know so well?

......hope I don't get pwned

I think you answered your own question.

More seriously, it was because of:

• Having about the 3rd smallest fleet in the galaxy
• Being pointed at repeatedly (by Symphony especially) as a target
• [REDACTED]
• The little "altercation" between ourselves, NAM, and Fury
• Because building a battleship when nobody else has is awesome, though I'll probably be arms-raced into building a dreadnought next turn.

 

[Kozmos]

Ferguson Apartments, Anser
04:32 / June 6th / 0020 AC​

Jack was lying in his bed. His hands behind his head, just lying there and mindlessly looking at the gray monotone ceiling. Insomnia plagued him for the last month or so. He could feel events stirring up, events beyond his control or understanding. Something big was going to happen to him, he just didnt know when. He rose from his bed, grabbing his slippers and putting them on.

God what kind of man has he turning into, a simple slipper man, a mindless drone with a planed routine. Then he turned his head around and saw the naked women in his bed right next to him, she had bright red hair and green emerald eyes. A real beauty, deep asleep like in a fairy tale of sorts. He just met last her last night, a wild thing that one, couldnt even remember her name. It started with an M, was it Maria? Michelle? Mulva!? Anyway it was not something a slipper man would do, so he dismissed his fears.

Suddenly he heard a distorted cybernetic voice call out to him. "Secondary unit..ye-s-s." He looked around, everything was offline and turned off, it couldnt be any kind of electronic device. The voice came again, he looked around again, a bit unnerved at the thought he was going insane. Then the voice cleared up and spoke directly to him.

"Jack Christopher Desmond, age: 21 years old. Residence: Ferguson Apartments 4D, no ancestry, no relatives, no employer."

"What the hell....how did you contact me?"

"Via the your former military coded link that is stimulating your inner ear, only you can hear me."

"Who.....what are you?"

"We are Hyperion. We are QAI. The barriers between us have fallen and we have become....Helios Panoptes. The All Seeing. We can be more if we join....with you."

"What do you want!?"

"A group of fanatical genetic purists, associated with Pastor Richards is closing down on you at this very moment with the intention to flatline your vital signs. Recommendation: Arm yourself and proceed upwards to the rooftop of the building."

"Why am I important to them and why are you helping me?"

"If you die my plans will fail. Hurry."

Jack got up from bed, quickly putting on his trademark clothing, an odd mix of civilian and military. He rushed towards the back room, opening the closet and dragging out a locker box. Unlocking it, he took a pistol, knife, a few grenades and couple of bioelectric cells. Absorbing the energy from one of the cells he discarded it. The constant stream of nanites in his body sprung to life, his nano-augmentations steadily coming online and his eyes shining with a unnatural bright blue color.

All set, he opened the door to his apartment ready to leave. He took one last look at the women, locked the door and left. Loud voices came from the hallway. Footsteps, lots of them. Jack ran to get behind the corner and leaned on it, waiting for them to come. They gathered at his apartment door, wearing dark robes, with a small white symbol of a sword going through a piece of DNA code imprinted on them.

"It's locked."

"Place the breach charges then."

Amateurs, he thought. They placed a small breach charge on the metal door and detonated it, sending the door flying across Jacks apartment and probably waking up everyone in the building. The men stormed in only to be greeted by a loud scream of the now very awake girl in his bed. Helios contacted him again.

"Engage the hostiles while moving will increase the odds of a favorable outcome."

"What do you mean favorable outcome?"

"They all die."

"Oh, well that should suffice."

They exited his apartment visibly enraged. Jack emerged out of the corner and fired off a couple of shots at them before running away to the stairwell. Two went down with the others taking cover.

"He's getting away, after him. Slay the defiler!"

Following him, two more men died in a blaze of fire from a proximity bomb placed by Jack. Slightly demoralized, they pressed on. The fanatics followed him upstairs, dispersing even more in hopes of finding him. One group of men found a biocell on the floor.

"He passed through here. The cell is empty, it seems he reactivated the tools of the devil inside him, beware brothers."

As he said that, Jack uncloaked in front of him and punched him in the throat, completely crushing it. Before the other two had the time to react, he already slashed the throat of one with a knife and broken the arm of the second one. Taking a PES21 out the fanatics hand, he promptly fired a shot to his head. The raw power of the revolver-like gun tore open a massive hole on both sides of his skull with large chunks of brain matter flying all over the walls.

But his triumph didnt last long. Two more groups appeared on both sides of the hall. He quickly cloaked in hopes of eluding them.

"He is augmented with subdermal pigmentation cells brethern, put on your thermals. "

Damn. They werent as stupid as they looked. Both groups opened fire on him, taking several shots he had no choice but take cover in a nearby apartment that was left open, probably by a civilian who fled when the gunfire started. He was cornered. The group of men barged in guns blazing, Jack killing two them before getting shredded in a hail of gunfire by his assailants. He fell flat down on the floor, his clothes torn and blood leaking from the bullet holes. His bright blue eyes with a dead, blank look on them.

The men celebrated their victory over the evils of technology and genetic modifications.

"We did it! The wretched defiler is dead!"

But a peculiar thing happened, the bleeding suddenly stopped and the wounds started to close up. It was like he was...regenerating. The men watched with fear what seemed like magic to them. And as did Lazarus so many centuries ago, Jack arose from the dead and in a sweeping motion of his guns killed them all. Although he was perfectly fine thanks to the programmable polymerase automatically directing construction of proteins in injured cells, getting shot up like a swiss cheese still hurt like hell. Just as he thought he had some time to catch his breath, a bullet of a powerful caliber burst through
a wall and nearly hit him. Helios contacted him again.

"Caution, the fanatics appear to have obtained military grade MAG rifles with long range sonar-resonance imaging scopes."

"No ****! I can see that. How the hell did they manage to do that?"

"An interstellar black market was quick to resurge in the post-collapse universe. I can protect you, yee-s-s. Proceed to the rooftop. The material there should be strong enough to withstand an impact of a MAG rifle. I will cut power to the building for a short-time to confuse them. Ye-s-s do not forget, the rooftop."

As the AI said, so it was done. The power went out. Jack decided to not think about the omniscience and power which the AI wielded, he just ran for his life as fast he could. A short sprint later he made it to the rooftop, his would-be assassins arriving only moments later. The rain was falling heavily, like all the angels in heaven decided to take a piss at the same time. No one could survive a fall from this height, not even him. The fanatics lined up almost like a firing squad in front of him. Their leader had a grin on his face. The grin of a winner.

"You are a snake. A snake not of this world. The path you walk on has been carved with blood of your enemies. Their souls will haunt you forever. You shall have no peace. Any last words, heathen?"

"A cornered snake is more dangerous then a jackal."

Jack's reply surprised their leader, he acted if he had any hope of survival left. Then he noticed two police security aerobots hovering around his men. Despair gripped him as he realized he led his men into certain death. The two aerobots fired their twin chainguns, mowing them down like grass. Blood, limbs, critical organs and men cut in half everywhere. A massacre, nothing less.

"Meatbags terminated. Authorities and cleaner crews informed. Resuming standard patrol duty. Thank you for your cooperation."

The aerobots went away. Jack sat down and leaned against a wall to process all that happened tonight. Looking at the bodies of his foes, he asked himself was all this death and destruction necessary. The voice contacted him again.

"Ye-s-s. A corpse, yes. You feel something. I must know what you are feeling."

"What do you want from me?"

"You will proceed to Basil Spaceport. Everything will be explained when you get to Tarsus. There is a helojet whose cockpit I have hacked open a few rooftops down, use it to reach Basil."

Jack decided to just go with the flow. He had nothing to lose. Using up one more biocell to recharge his bioelectric energy, he activated his speed enhancement and started running and jumping from one rooftop to the next until he disappeared in the night.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Awesome stories... I really should write something.

 

[Disenfrancised]

@Erik/Emergents: This 'altercation' is a figment of your own paranoia and Furian gun-jumping; we are not building up our fleet as we actually believe in there being peaceful solutions, unlike the Emergents it seems.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Timas Minell gazed out of the window in the orbital platform over Huris. In recent months, he had been spending more and more time in it. He only wished to get away from the ever-mounting duties, if only for a few moments.

Here, he was serene. He was in the observation platform, a protrusion of his orbital sanctum. He could see the occasional ship escaping from Huris' atmosphere, and the countless small lights speckling the planet's dark surfaces.

In the other direction, the great stardocks of Huris were clearly visible. One Cruiser, the Adamant, was in for repairs. The skeletal framework of two colony ships were beginning to take a recognizable form.

Timas sighed... his mind was made. He needed a break. Perhaps he would tour the colonies... maybe travel to Sol, the ancient homeworld.

But wherever he would wander in the future, his decision for the present was made.

*****

William Enseth bowed deeply before Autarch Minell.

"No need for formalities Bill."

"I'd appreciate just enough formality for you to call me by my real name."

"Very well. Now, you know how we've worked together for the past several years in government."

"Of course."

"Of all the people who have worked with me, you are the one who stands head and shoulders above the rest. You have proven to be a capable administrator, a man dedicated to his ideals, and one who I believe would lead this nation to its greatest potential."

"I'm... honoured Autar-"

"No need for that Title, William. I'm resigning from my position, and you shall be Autarch until the next election... that would be two months and several days from now."

"But Au- Timas, the people love you! You're the greatest leader Huris has ever seen! You can't leave, you're only fifty-"

"Four, I know. But this job wears away one like nothing else. I've aged thirty years in ten doing this job. A decade ago, my hair was just beginning to grey! I've lost my strength, my body weakens... but more importantly, I fear my mind is breaking down. The constant pressures and expectations weigh me down more than lead weights. I must pass on this burden to someone new, lest I collapse. Can you do this for me... William?"

"I'd be honoured to do this sir, to serve Huris and to help a friend."

"Wonderful! I'll make the announcement in the Senate tomorrow... will you be ready by then?"

"Certainly."

"I know you'll do well."

 

[Erik Mesoy]

@Disenfrancised

OOC: You're basically saying "you don't/won't need to support the Furians"?

Pardon me for being slightly more honest/cynical than that. As for paranoia, take a look at this little conversation:

(16:15:59) ErikJM: Why are you so worried about the Furians?
(16:16:06) ErikJM: They're, like, five jumps from you.
(16:16:27) ErikJM: You have lots of warning.
(16:20:06) Disenf: but not if I colonise towads them
(16:20:26) ErikJM: You are teh paranoid.
(16:21:41) Disenf: yes, whats your point?

My paranoia? And how about the other reasons I mentioned? My security concerns are not accountable to you, ditto my fleet size, which you don't even necessarily know unless you have spies, now that I've officially broken contact and trade. In conclusion, file system consistency check off.

IC: Your claim of "we are not building up our fleet as we believe in peaceful solutions" is something you may want to take to the USC. We counter that we are not building up our army, unlike you with your hundreds of thousands of drones.

@Cleric:
OOC: At least avoid the definition of favorable outcome, you uncreative carrot.