Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
In fact it is Phantom which is correct, whilst Specter and all the old armies didn't get properly updated.
SYSNES2: On the Lathe of Suns
- Thread starter Disenfrancised
- Start date
In fact it is Phantom which is correct, whilst Specter and all the old armies didn't get properly updated.
Symphony D.
Deity
I remember there being some text saying it'd be updated and then a new economics was released. Assumptions.
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Symphony D.
Deity
An Access Log
[---+++---+++---]
STATUS: ON
LOGGING: ON
ENCRYPT: 56Kbit [Public Key]
ACCESS: RemotePersonal41462.Deepspar.Veldglyph.Labyrinth [KATHEKON]
LOGON: UC4978.02.22.16.22.56
AFFIL: Department of the Biosphere and Agriculture
USER: T.Kasatka
PASS: **********************************
CLEAR: BRAVO-BRAVO-VICTOR-4
DISPLAY: Simpletext [Timestamps OFF]
[+++----=----+++]
</[News]
>>>NEWS<<<
>>> [QuanteQ Initial Public Offering: Record Activity]
>>> [GBA Fiscal Year 4977 Report and Budgeting Proposals]
>>> [President Marius Addresses Adiaphora Issue]
>>> [Chaos Continues in Outlying Yan Regions]
>>> [Corans: Softpower into Superpower or Superhype?]
>>> [EXCOMM Press Release on SAF2 II Negotiations]
>>> [Seffassians:---<USER INTERRUPT>
</[EXCOMM Press Release]
>>>EXCOMM PRESS RELEASE<<<
[tab]The Executive Committee of the Department of Defense and Security
[tab]has released a brief statement on the progress of four-party
[tab]negotiations at the Black Iron Republic station orbiting SAF2
[tab]II stating simply that “We are continuing to work toward a
[tab]practicable solution to the ongoing situation and have clearly
[tab]emphasized that failure to negotiation will carry have well-
[tab]defined and harsh consequences.”
[tab]The announcement comes just two days after testimony to the
[tab]National Assembly by General Staff Supreme Commander, General
[tab]Lena F. Azhar, that all options are available and on the table
[tab]and that she has received full support from the administration
[tab]of President Marius to plan and prepare for a wide array of
[tab]military contingencies in the event of a failure to negotiate
[tab][VIDEO MEDIA]. President Marius made it clear earlier in the
[tab]week that he would not sign off on the National Assembly’s
[tab]final budget proposal until there was a clear indication of
[tab]forward progress, and that if it was not forthcoming, he would
[tab]implement requisition measures necessary for military action
[tab][VIDEO MEDIA] against the Standard Confederacy. President
[tab]Marius’ moderated stance continues to split public opinion,
[tab]although a clear majority support it and his continual moves
[tab]toward military buildup.
[tab]Criticism of the Standard Confederacy for the attack on Torpor
[tab]Station remains widespread and vocal, although unsurprisingly
[tab]the networks still hum with sharp-tongued rebukes of the newly
[tab]formed Standard Territories and government’s official ally,
[tab]the Csser’ian Confederacy for their part in the debacle. In
[tab]a more interesting development, there is increasingly critical
[tab]commentary and analysis by foreign affairs experts towards the
[tab]lack of interest in the matter demonstrated by the Hankish
[tab]Republic, and perhaps most surprisingly of all, toward the
[tab]actions of the Apeilic Iris itself. One popular anontator,
[tab]known only by the handle dARKdecLINE, made a particularly
[tab]salient comment on the infosphere that received a wide-degree
[tab]of circulation: “Iris edict yields cont. attacks by Confed:
[tab]leaves them no recourse and ensures lengthy guerrilla campaign
[tab]to clear Forest; renders FEFB useless and suggests darker
[tab]ulterior motives,” [LINK].
[tab]While the Marius administration has yet to---<USER INTERRUPT>
</Query: “Standard Territories”
>>>STANDARD TERRITORIES<<<
>>> [Overview: Standard Territories]
>>> [Biography: Kia Common]
>>> [The Obstruction on Oia and the Hurly-Burly on Heya]
>>> [“Mern” or “Reliance?” How to Talk to Baselines]
>>> [FURTHER SEARCH RETURNS]
</[Overview: Standard Territories]
>>>OVERVIEW: STANDARD TERRITORIES<<<
[tab]Formed in the afterglow of the embers of the Battle of Torpor,
[tab]The Standard Territories is the official name of the largest and
[tab]arguably most impressive of the successor states and splinters of
[tab]the Standard Migration [INFO MEDIA], currently based out of the
[tab]Mernt homeworld of Mern (dubbed “Reliance,” see more: [ADVERT
[tab]MEDIA]) and with holdings on Oia and SAF4 I. Currently overseeing
[tab]a variety of ecological, development, and organizational problems
[tab]related to domestic development and social deficiencies. Notably
[tab]now the sole primary focus of the Mernt Crusade---<USER
[tab]INTERRUPT>
</Query: “Mernt Crusade”
>>>MERNT CRUSADE<<<
>>> [Overview: Laying of the Crusade]
>>> [Overview: Mernt]
>>> [Overview: Knights of the Vale]
>>> [Overview: Order of the Fourth Edenic Monks]
>>> [FURTHER SEARCH RETURNS]
</[Overview: Laying of the Crusade]
>>>LAYING OF THE CRUSADE<<<
[tab]Following the sudden occupation of Mern by the Standard
[tab]Confederacy in UC 4971, remaining Mernt enclaves (with the
[tab]major exception of the Oiat Kingdom) declared a form of holy
[tab]war on the Standard Confederacy until such time as Mern was
[tab]reclaimed and swept clear of all remaining Standard presence.
[tab]To date no serious attempt has been mounted to secure this
[tab]aim, with the standout major success so far having been the
[tab]Knights of the Vale’s victory over Standard forces on SAF2 I
[tab]in---<USER INTERRUPT>
</Query: “Knights of the Vale”
>>>KNIGHTS OF THE VALE<<<
>>> [Overview: Knights of the Vale]
>>> [Overview: Mernt Plague]
>>> [My Kingdom for a Kelpburger: Hank Food Follies]
>>> [Lesser Orion Financial Group Public Policy Statement UC 4795]
>>> [FURTHER SEARCH RETURNS]
</[My Kingdom for a Kelpburger: Hank Food Follies]
>>>MY KINGDOM FOR A KELPBURGER<<<
[tab]Have you ever overpaid for a meal that just wasn’t really
[tab]worth it? If so, don’t feel bad: at least you’re not the
[tab]Hankish Republic. Currently pursuing food contracts with the
[tab]newly talkative Knights of the Vale, the Hankish Republic
[tab]made headlines in UC 4976 with an absurd food supply out-
[tab]sourcing contract with the Order of the Deluge which it is
[tab]no doubt regretting, to the amusement of---<USER INTERRUPT>
</Map: Local Restaurants
>>>[MAP DATA LOADING]
</Query: “Order of the Deluge”
>>>ORDER OF THE DELUGE<<<
>>> [Overview: Order of the Deluge]
>>> [Overview: Glon]
>>> [Kompact Kelpburgers are Krazy Kaptivating!!!]
>>> [Cults and Tumults: Baselines and the Crap they Worship]
>>> [FURTHER SEARCH RETURNS]
</Query: “Tumult”
>>>TUMULT<<<
>>> [Overview: Tumult]
>>> [Overview: Ravening]
>>> [Overview: Burning of Datha]
>>> [Overview: Mernt Plague]
>>> [FURTHER SEARCH RETURNS]
</[Overview: Tumult]
>>>OVERVIEW: TUMULT<<<
[tab]Exotic gravimetric event responsible for near extinction of
[tab]h. sapiens sapiens and associated clades approximately 2,300
[tab]standard years ago (est. UC 2673).
</Query: “Details: Tumult”
>>>DETAILS: TUMULT<<<
>>> [Overview: Tumult]
>>> [Overview: Ravening]
>>> [Overview: Burning of Datha]
>>> [Overview: Mernt Plague]
>>> [FURTHER SEARCH RETURNS]
</Gov.DBA.Nexus.Search: Tumult
>>>TUMULT<<<
>>> ERROR 404: ENTRY NOT FOUND
>>> DATA BEYOND AVAILABLE CLEARANCE
>>> CONTACT SUPERVISOR AS NECESSARY
</Map: Local Cafes
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
Renewal Once More
Typical.
Officially, one of the few last independent Standard leaders in the Forest.
Officially, a friend of the Csser’ian Confederacy.
Officially, he was forced by circumstance to temporarily occupy parts of Oia.
Unofficially, Typical was one of the cleverest political operators in Abell.
And that was saying something.
He had stared as Typical addressed the Csser’ian delegation in munificent Dathic speech, lambasting the delegation in everything but words and easily parrying the feeble counter-points. Typical had gone on to denounce the Csser’ians as hypocritical arses in the most lovely of tones before concluding that the Confederacy would sell him out to the Oiat, the other Mernt or the benevolent dictatress Kia Common on Mern.
Quite obviously, the delegation failed to accomplish its mission. Heads had rolled; why hadn’t anyone found out that Typical was a fiery orator! The PM had personally taken control of the mission, citing it essential for state security.
Watching from the balcony, he saw the doors opened and Typical and his entourage walked in, attired in full Dathic military dress. They were mobbed by reporters and minor officials. It would take a while.
“Waiting for Typical?”
He grimaced.
“Prime Minister. Yes I am.”
Josef Leoni smiled and joined him on the balcony. “I cracked up reading the minutes on your meeting with Typical. He has a lovely way with words. Most of us would never have expected that from Standards but that’s idiotic. Beneath their gruff exteriors and unwashed selves lies quite an introspective thought process. So unlike the Dathics whose uniforms they so absolutely adore. You’re nervious.”
“Prime Minister I..”
“Oh stop it with the Prime Minister this, and Prime Minister that Radimir. Holy Batman! I may not be your natural father, but I raised you after your parents died in that medical debacle. Josef. I insist on it.”
He straightened up and shook his head. “Prime Minister. Good day.”
-------------------------------
Minutes from The Fourth Typical Standard – Csser’ian Confederacy - Kingdom of Oiat Conference
Typical: I must highly insist on strong assurances from the Csser’ian Confederacy that my people and I will be protected and supplied after departure. The new world, as bountiful as she is, will require time for us to harness in earnest, time which would necessitate Csser’ian aid assistance. Furthermore, the pressing issue of the Commodores and the radicals under Kia Common is of great concern to my people. When we declared and fought for our independence against the Council of Commodores, we desired to be free! Not to exchange one committee for a dictatress!
Manderlyt: The Confederacy recognizes the concerns you have in regards to the Commodores and Kia Common’s new government. Your continued sovereignty, rest assured, is of significant importance to this Government.
Typical: Of Manderly, some would say that your government’s proposal is against our interests. I hear that Rico has received a similar proposal and considering the incredibly vast differences, unfair. An integral aspect as we are not being extinguished by our Mernt neighbors.
Bebbyrd: Typical. The Oiat Kingdom has only stayed her hand against you at the urging of our friend and ally, the Csser’ian Confederacy. The Goddess herself has pitted you against us and you will be found lacking. Do not force our hand.
Typical: As much respect as I have for the Goddess of Oiat, where was the Goddess when our forces rained from the sky? Where were the Gods when the Commodores launched a half-baked plan to seize Mern? You were saved the fate of the Mern Mernts for one reason and one reason only. Your proximity to the Csser’ians and their defense!
Leoni: Enough. Bebbyrd, Typical , we are here to solve our current situation not antagonize it. None of us here wants a replay of the Vale. Nonetheless, it is similar. We have located a new home for you. We have offered to provide transportation. We have offered supplies for development. You will not gain a guarantee of your security from this Government. I will make it known that we will vehemently oppose any infringements upon your sovereignty.
Typical: Swindling Csser’ian. You would make a great horse trader. That fascist sodomite Rico gets the same deal?
Leoni: A compliment I take highly. I assure you Typical, you are getting a much better deal than Rico.
Typical: I’ll laugh when I see you sell him down the river.
Leoni: That will not happen under my watch.
------------------------
LEONI! LEONI! LEONI!
The crowds were deafening.
SIX MORE YEARS! SIX MORE YEARS!
The crowds continued unabatedly.
“Folks, the enthusiasm here at the Convention is overwhelming! There’s little doubt that Prime Minister Leoni will once again be nominated to represent the coalition of the United Parties in the national elections next year. If the polls are any indication, the Prime Minister and his coalition government will trounce the opposition. There is no other figure with the same dignitas to be able to face on the Prime Minister head on. It looks like we’ll have six more years of the Leoni Gover-”
She closed the projection and looked around the table. Concerned faces all looked back at her.
“Leoni has done a good job on the economic crisis but he could have done much more. Rebuilding Torpor so quickly is downright dangerous. It’s too bad he’s surrounded himself with advisors and officials who want to build a new civilization in the Forest. Out of all the Mernt. Madness.”
Heads nodded around the table.
“I propose we form a party of opposition to run against Leoni. To contest him on his rash and foolhardy foreign policy, his expansion of our foreign debt for the development of foreign states, his policy of accommodation with the Standard Territories, and his inability to prosecute the war against the Commodores. My father will be brought down from high office.”
Typical.
Officially, one of the few last independent Standard leaders in the Forest.
Officially, a friend of the Csser’ian Confederacy.
Officially, he was forced by circumstance to temporarily occupy parts of Oia.
Unofficially, Typical was one of the cleverest political operators in Abell.
And that was saying something.
He had stared as Typical addressed the Csser’ian delegation in munificent Dathic speech, lambasting the delegation in everything but words and easily parrying the feeble counter-points. Typical had gone on to denounce the Csser’ians as hypocritical arses in the most lovely of tones before concluding that the Confederacy would sell him out to the Oiat, the other Mernt or the benevolent dictatress Kia Common on Mern.
Quite obviously, the delegation failed to accomplish its mission. Heads had rolled; why hadn’t anyone found out that Typical was a fiery orator! The PM had personally taken control of the mission, citing it essential for state security.
Watching from the balcony, he saw the doors opened and Typical and his entourage walked in, attired in full Dathic military dress. They were mobbed by reporters and minor officials. It would take a while.
“Waiting for Typical?”
He grimaced.
“Prime Minister. Yes I am.”
Josef Leoni smiled and joined him on the balcony. “I cracked up reading the minutes on your meeting with Typical. He has a lovely way with words. Most of us would never have expected that from Standards but that’s idiotic. Beneath their gruff exteriors and unwashed selves lies quite an introspective thought process. So unlike the Dathics whose uniforms they so absolutely adore. You’re nervious.”
“Prime Minister I..”
“Oh stop it with the Prime Minister this, and Prime Minister that Radimir. Holy Batman! I may not be your natural father, but I raised you after your parents died in that medical debacle. Josef. I insist on it.”
He straightened up and shook his head. “Prime Minister. Good day.”
-------------------------------
Minutes from The Fourth Typical Standard – Csser’ian Confederacy - Kingdom of Oiat Conference
Typical: I must highly insist on strong assurances from the Csser’ian Confederacy that my people and I will be protected and supplied after departure. The new world, as bountiful as she is, will require time for us to harness in earnest, time which would necessitate Csser’ian aid assistance. Furthermore, the pressing issue of the Commodores and the radicals under Kia Common is of great concern to my people. When we declared and fought for our independence against the Council of Commodores, we desired to be free! Not to exchange one committee for a dictatress!
Manderlyt: The Confederacy recognizes the concerns you have in regards to the Commodores and Kia Common’s new government. Your continued sovereignty, rest assured, is of significant importance to this Government.
Typical: Of Manderly, some would say that your government’s proposal is against our interests. I hear that Rico has received a similar proposal and considering the incredibly vast differences, unfair. An integral aspect as we are not being extinguished by our Mernt neighbors.
Bebbyrd: Typical. The Oiat Kingdom has only stayed her hand against you at the urging of our friend and ally, the Csser’ian Confederacy. The Goddess herself has pitted you against us and you will be found lacking. Do not force our hand.
Typical: As much respect as I have for the Goddess of Oiat, where was the Goddess when our forces rained from the sky? Where were the Gods when the Commodores launched a half-baked plan to seize Mern? You were saved the fate of the Mern Mernts for one reason and one reason only. Your proximity to the Csser’ians and their defense!
Leoni: Enough. Bebbyrd, Typical , we are here to solve our current situation not antagonize it. None of us here wants a replay of the Vale. Nonetheless, it is similar. We have located a new home for you. We have offered to provide transportation. We have offered supplies for development. You will not gain a guarantee of your security from this Government. I will make it known that we will vehemently oppose any infringements upon your sovereignty.
Typical: Swindling Csser’ian. You would make a great horse trader. That fascist sodomite Rico gets the same deal?
Leoni: A compliment I take highly. I assure you Typical, you are getting a much better deal than Rico.
Typical: I’ll laugh when I see you sell him down the river.
Leoni: That will not happen under my watch.
------------------------
LEONI! LEONI! LEONI!
The crowds were deafening.
SIX MORE YEARS! SIX MORE YEARS!
The crowds continued unabatedly.
“Folks, the enthusiasm here at the Convention is overwhelming! There’s little doubt that Prime Minister Leoni will once again be nominated to represent the coalition of the United Parties in the national elections next year. If the polls are any indication, the Prime Minister and his coalition government will trounce the opposition. There is no other figure with the same dignitas to be able to face on the Prime Minister head on. It looks like we’ll have six more years of the Leoni Gover-”
She closed the projection and looked around the table. Concerned faces all looked back at her.
“Leoni has done a good job on the economic crisis but he could have done much more. Rebuilding Torpor so quickly is downright dangerous. It’s too bad he’s surrounded himself with advisors and officials who want to build a new civilization in the Forest. Out of all the Mernt. Madness.”
Heads nodded around the table.
“I propose we form a party of opposition to run against Leoni. To contest him on his rash and foolhardy foreign policy, his expansion of our foreign debt for the development of foreign states, his policy of accommodation with the Standard Territories, and his inability to prosecute the war against the Commodores. My father will be brought down from high office.”
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Nice stories, guys. I enjoyed them.
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
And Renewal Once Again
Tud. Tud. Tud.
The quiet soft footsteps kept going on.
One finger.
The footsteps stopped.
Two fingers.
They moved closer.
A chop in the air and it was done.
Lyndir had a few minutes with tablet and it all fell down.
He called it in; breaking protocol for once “Make it rain Xionists baby”.
-----------------------------
The mobile laser batteries fired away at the enemy position endlessly with the vacuum pumps and coolants SHROOF at every turn.
Block by block the Xionist shocktroops had cleared the city of the Hexacalin mercenaries. They found only empty homes. It was an empty city. Empty save for a few mercs. He smirked at the orderlies running back and forth; equipment hadn’t been installed yet.
He collapsed on a chair, smiled and just enjoyed the bustle. Other people bustling, not him. He could sense people staring but who cared. He had done his role.
“Goddamm you commandoes. Run a little ops and think you’re entitled to rest while us hardworking grunts march in line”.
He didn’t even deign to open his eyes, “You’re a jealous highson who thinks being a tall beast of a monster makes you better than all of us. Plus. We’ve been blockading this world for ten standard cycles and we’ve gotten nowhere. You Xionists never think outside the box; my mission got it done”.
The annoyance repulsed, he snuggled back into the chair and napped. Only to feel a strong grip on his left shoulder mandating that he wake up.
“Leoni. We need you to go somewhere. Troopers seized that Hexcali gurvnor in his manse. Found something disturbing. You’re the ranking money counter on-planet; brass is too busy trying to claim credit for the whole op”.
He groaned. Heavens. It was a conspiracy against him sleeping. Stood up and stretched facing the beast.
“Just for you bubba monster, Netabre. Better not tell anyone or they’ll get jealous”. He almost fell over when Netabre pushed him.
“Not funny Leoni. It’s serious. I’m here to escort and your subs there. We’ve sealed off the site”.
“Got it”.
The city had been pummeled. Broken pipes. Gaseous substances from the sewer systems spilled out onto the streets. What had been a minor pythium mining station before the war became one of the most integral resource extraction facilities amongst the Dathic Alliance when the war broke out. He and Netabre had both been here before the war though for different purposes.
Netabre leading a Xionist military expedition to demand the return of Xionist civilians attacked by slavers, him representing his grandfather’s firm in representing the sale of a few of the facilities to one of many shell corporations run by a conglomerate out of Hexacali. It had been a happier place back then.
The governor’s manse was there. The hairs on his neck all stood up. There was something wrong. People whispering where they should have shouted. There were no celebrations, or happy enlisted men running around now that the battle was over. There was a repressed feeling.
“Netrabre. Where is the governor?”
“He’s dead. Troops shot him in shock. The enlisted and the officer are all being held”.
“Xionist soldiers never break…” Netrabre stopped the group and turned to him.
“You’ll understand” and he opened the door.
He stared. His mouth dried instantly. One of his subs ran off vomiting.
“That was why the troopers shot the governor Leoni.” Without breaking the trance of the room, he felt his tongue move. “Okay.” and stepped out.
---------------------------
Prime Minister Josef Leoni: The Last Six Years
It is quite clear to all citizens, friends and allies of the Csser’ian Confederacy that we live in perilous times. From the onset of the Standardite slaughter of countless civilians to the destruction of Torpor Station and our fleet stationed there, we have not lived free of fear. I am afraid that I will not promise nor beguile you with sweet words of freedom from fear. Only those who are ignorant of the situation would promise as such. That is the nature of our existence here in the Forest.
There is no easy path and there never was.
The last six years have showed that we forever live in the shadow of the past. The war that destroyed Datha still burns in the hearts of our enemies and those of our lukewarm friends. We have welcomed those who seek new lives and I will continue to do so. Much as we fled from the Core Worlds to seek new lives, so do many more flee to Larsilla. There is no limit on the opportunities for our country. To those who would doubt our determination of our spirit let them know that even our darkest days, we remained strong.
The War with the Council of Commodores has been fraught with difficulties. With our Praxzen allies, our diplomats have entered into tentative negotiations upon my orders. The goal, and only goal, will be to achieve the wartime objectives of this government without further bloodshed. That is the return of all Csser’ian and Praxzen hostages, and a thorough prosecution of all the leading members of the Council of Commodores for their role in economic terrorism. It is not a course I chose lightly. As the Supreme Commander of all Csser’ian Military Forces, I will do my utmost to preserve lives in our quest for righteous vengeance.
We shall return to the markets we lost at the onset of the Standardite Confederacy’s terrorism. We shall restore Csser’ian commercial strength. I offer my condolences for the death of Harus Hephoi but he will not be missed! I have not forgotten, and shall never forget, crimes committed by Harus Hephoi and his elite cabal towards our Confederacy. The day will come when they will rue their decision to fund economic acts of terror for their own benefit.
Our success in peacefully relocating Typical and Rico shows the viability of a peaceful transition in the Forest. The Mernt have once more stood up! From the valleys and the armored soldiers of the Vale to the great rivers of Oia, let it be known. The days of mindless conquest are over. There shall be peace for all Mernt, Csser’ian, Praxzen, Standardite, Leeni and Seffasian in the Forest.
Mern remains the crux of any resolution between our Mernt neighbors and the Standardites of Kia Common. It will not be easy and I will not promise to solve it in six years. I will not lie. There are no other worlds capable of supporting the number of Standardites upon the planet and short of a horrific war I will not condone, the Standardites will not leave. It is likely we shall not see Mern returned to her rightful owners in my life time but we must plan the foundations for a long term approach to solving the problem, not hasty or rash two-bit solutions.
The state of our Confederacy remains strong as long as we who believe will remain so.
Good day and Heaven bless our Confederacy.
------------------------------------------------
Shaking as many hands as he could, he walked through the crowd of well-wishers.
His security detail constantly urged him to move but no. He would not. A man of the people, representing the people and ultimately answering to the people, this was how he would serve.
The ground. It seemed so close. Words here and there. Blood?
Ah. So it was his turn.
“Vanessa… “
Tud. Tud. Tud.
The quiet soft footsteps kept going on.
One finger.
The footsteps stopped.
Two fingers.
They moved closer.
A chop in the air and it was done.
Lyndir had a few minutes with tablet and it all fell down.
He called it in; breaking protocol for once “Make it rain Xionists baby”.
-----------------------------
The mobile laser batteries fired away at the enemy position endlessly with the vacuum pumps and coolants SHROOF at every turn.
Block by block the Xionist shocktroops had cleared the city of the Hexacalin mercenaries. They found only empty homes. It was an empty city. Empty save for a few mercs. He smirked at the orderlies running back and forth; equipment hadn’t been installed yet.
He collapsed on a chair, smiled and just enjoyed the bustle. Other people bustling, not him. He could sense people staring but who cared. He had done his role.
“Goddamm you commandoes. Run a little ops and think you’re entitled to rest while us hardworking grunts march in line”.
He didn’t even deign to open his eyes, “You’re a jealous highson who thinks being a tall beast of a monster makes you better than all of us. Plus. We’ve been blockading this world for ten standard cycles and we’ve gotten nowhere. You Xionists never think outside the box; my mission got it done”.
The annoyance repulsed, he snuggled back into the chair and napped. Only to feel a strong grip on his left shoulder mandating that he wake up.
“Leoni. We need you to go somewhere. Troopers seized that Hexcali gurvnor in his manse. Found something disturbing. You’re the ranking money counter on-planet; brass is too busy trying to claim credit for the whole op”.
He groaned. Heavens. It was a conspiracy against him sleeping. Stood up and stretched facing the beast.
“Just for you bubba monster, Netabre. Better not tell anyone or they’ll get jealous”. He almost fell over when Netabre pushed him.
“Not funny Leoni. It’s serious. I’m here to escort and your subs there. We’ve sealed off the site”.
“Got it”.
The city had been pummeled. Broken pipes. Gaseous substances from the sewer systems spilled out onto the streets. What had been a minor pythium mining station before the war became one of the most integral resource extraction facilities amongst the Dathic Alliance when the war broke out. He and Netabre had both been here before the war though for different purposes.
Netabre leading a Xionist military expedition to demand the return of Xionist civilians attacked by slavers, him representing his grandfather’s firm in representing the sale of a few of the facilities to one of many shell corporations run by a conglomerate out of Hexacali. It had been a happier place back then.
The governor’s manse was there. The hairs on his neck all stood up. There was something wrong. People whispering where they should have shouted. There were no celebrations, or happy enlisted men running around now that the battle was over. There was a repressed feeling.
“Netrabre. Where is the governor?”
“He’s dead. Troops shot him in shock. The enlisted and the officer are all being held”.
“Xionist soldiers never break…” Netrabre stopped the group and turned to him.
“You’ll understand” and he opened the door.
He stared. His mouth dried instantly. One of his subs ran off vomiting.
“That was why the troopers shot the governor Leoni.” Without breaking the trance of the room, he felt his tongue move. “Okay.” and stepped out.
---------------------------
Prime Minister Josef Leoni: The Last Six Years
It is quite clear to all citizens, friends and allies of the Csser’ian Confederacy that we live in perilous times. From the onset of the Standardite slaughter of countless civilians to the destruction of Torpor Station and our fleet stationed there, we have not lived free of fear. I am afraid that I will not promise nor beguile you with sweet words of freedom from fear. Only those who are ignorant of the situation would promise as such. That is the nature of our existence here in the Forest.
There is no easy path and there never was.
The last six years have showed that we forever live in the shadow of the past. The war that destroyed Datha still burns in the hearts of our enemies and those of our lukewarm friends. We have welcomed those who seek new lives and I will continue to do so. Much as we fled from the Core Worlds to seek new lives, so do many more flee to Larsilla. There is no limit on the opportunities for our country. To those who would doubt our determination of our spirit let them know that even our darkest days, we remained strong.
The War with the Council of Commodores has been fraught with difficulties. With our Praxzen allies, our diplomats have entered into tentative negotiations upon my orders. The goal, and only goal, will be to achieve the wartime objectives of this government without further bloodshed. That is the return of all Csser’ian and Praxzen hostages, and a thorough prosecution of all the leading members of the Council of Commodores for their role in economic terrorism. It is not a course I chose lightly. As the Supreme Commander of all Csser’ian Military Forces, I will do my utmost to preserve lives in our quest for righteous vengeance.
We shall return to the markets we lost at the onset of the Standardite Confederacy’s terrorism. We shall restore Csser’ian commercial strength. I offer my condolences for the death of Harus Hephoi but he will not be missed! I have not forgotten, and shall never forget, crimes committed by Harus Hephoi and his elite cabal towards our Confederacy. The day will come when they will rue their decision to fund economic acts of terror for their own benefit.
Our success in peacefully relocating Typical and Rico shows the viability of a peaceful transition in the Forest. The Mernt have once more stood up! From the valleys and the armored soldiers of the Vale to the great rivers of Oia, let it be known. The days of mindless conquest are over. There shall be peace for all Mernt, Csser’ian, Praxzen, Standardite, Leeni and Seffasian in the Forest.
Mern remains the crux of any resolution between our Mernt neighbors and the Standardites of Kia Common. It will not be easy and I will not promise to solve it in six years. I will not lie. There are no other worlds capable of supporting the number of Standardites upon the planet and short of a horrific war I will not condone, the Standardites will not leave. It is likely we shall not see Mern returned to her rightful owners in my life time but we must plan the foundations for a long term approach to solving the problem, not hasty or rash two-bit solutions.
The state of our Confederacy remains strong as long as we who believe will remain so.
Good day and Heaven bless our Confederacy.
------------------------------------------------
Shaking as many hands as he could, he walked through the crowd of well-wishers.
His security detail constantly urged him to move but no. He would not. A man of the people, representing the people and ultimately answering to the people, this was how he would serve.
The ground. It seemed so close. Words here and there. Blood?
Ah. So it was his turn.
“Vanessa… “
title: "2347cthdrl" to "2142apl.irs"
orig: 247cthdrl
addressee: "fuentes"
approval sought.
title: "2142apl.irs" to "2347cthdrl"
orig: 2142apl.irs
addressee: "maring"
approved. execute.
..................................................
from: lofg
sctr: 2347cthdrl
encd: gnrl.rls
message sent: "maring"
for attention: all gnrl.rls
instructions as follows.
600e ilosians @ 8.0 p.a. lofg agrees to renegotiation of interest/schedule in '80 subject to results of pilot mine.
500e corans @ 5.5 p.a. schedule to be negotiated.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Tabled
The slim, pony-tailed officer who was now a household name for half a billion Segmentum dwellers and her tail of two hulking bodyguards strode across the main command floor at a brisk clip.
The new executive facility was an interesting aesthetic mix: Decorative Dathic arches with an Apeilic-influenced open circulation design managed to combine corridors-of-power grandeur with sleek, efficient modernity. Notably, it was built out of one of the larger peaks of the Ruins Range, the top sheared off and flattened to serve as a landing pad and hangar. Military research and testing facilities were located deeper in the bowels of the mountain, while the upper levels held conference rooms and training chambers, not to mention an impressive view. A mixture of civilian and military functionaries stalked the hallways, beeping datapads in hand, saluting as they passed by.
Kia Common liked the command center. Not a big surprise, since she had designed it and filled it with the best people the Territories had to offer. (Well, the best people that hadn’t already jumped ship for Hanksville or Larsilla.) She knew having a building that wasn’t held together by toothpicks and string wouldn’t hurt in impressing the average foreign dignitary expecting only poverty and incompetence.
“Hey, Chuckles?”
“Ma’am.” She nicknamed all her bodyguards, and this one, who had never cracked a smile in two years of employment, had garnered the sobriquet of Chuckles.
“Life expectancy of world leaders seems to be declining lately, hm?”
Chuckles grunted something that might or might not have been assent.
“Do me a favor, warn me if I’m about to get assassinated.”
Chuckles grunted again.
“Just want to have my last words planned out, is all.” She grinned at her men as the door to the conference room slid open after she touched the access panel with her hand. Internally she wasn’t looking forward to this, but the Provisioner-General knew that projecting perpetual confidence was at least half of the job of leadership.
They used to all rise when she entered the room, but she had thrown a fit and threatened to have them carried out and shot. Instead she walked around and greeted everyone individually.
The elderly ex-Commodore Felix Lewiston looked more decrepit than ever, but his Dathic auxiliary dress browns were as crisply starched as the day they were fabricated, and his salute as crisp as the day it was first drilled into him. His younger brother Trev, a hint of silver hair at his ears, smiled slightly-too-charmingly. Handsome and aware of it was the most disgusting sort of man, but she liked Trev nonetheless. The two defectors served as her new fleet commanders.
Livy Ordinary gave a tiny bow as he shook her hand. The portly, well-dressed man represented several mercantile consortia across Reliance, most importantly one organizing the more technically skilled clans into functional subcontracting units for aerospace construction. He unofficially spoke for the New Port Elric business community, which was beginning to create functional product models higher than the cottage-industry level, mostly through franchising that maintained clan independence in the subunits of a corporate organization. That was what the briefing said, at least; she was too busy to read the whole thing. Livy was important.
In the corner sat Ace Everyman, who merely nodded when he saw her, looking somewhat out of place in his radiation and chemical-hardened work clothes with more pockets than seemed reasonably possible to fit on a coat. He’d been nominated by a burgeoning alliance of Ruins Range farming and mining clans to ensure that their interests didn’t get overwhelmed by the military or the business sector in the formation of the new government. He was spearheading their advance into the Cursed Lands as well, though she had her own reservations about that project. Lands were cursed for a reason, she supposed.
Two female army officers, three powerful clan magnates, (one female, two male,) the deputy mayor of Airharbor, and a confused-looking delegate from SAF4 rounded out the conference table. As the Provisioner-General sat, the table swiveled to face the bank of windows and the majestic golden peaks of the Ruins Range beyond.
“This is as good a sampling as they’ll get. Maybe this time they’ll realize this is a genuine movement,” said Kia. The windows went black as the vid-screens activated, and the ansibyl connection code began to stream. This kind of intersystem bandwidth was going to blow out their multimedia budget for the month, but it helped to look impressive.
The people on the other side of the screen had evidently thought the same thing, as they were seated around an equally sleek and shiny conference table. Their room had a pair of red and gold flags, a portrait of a man they all knew far too well, and a collection of grim-faced military officers. The one seated at the head of the table was a tall woman with a strong jaw and iron-grey hair pulled back into a bun behind her head. It was acting Commodore-in-Chief Rani Habitual.
“Common,” she spat.
“Commodore Habitual,” she replied smoothly. Kia would never, ever let it on, but privately she was terrified of what this woman was capable of. As Torpor had clearly shown, she was a strong tactician, and utterly unafraid to die for a lost cause. All intelligence from SAF2 indicated that they knew the net was tightening now. It was the best possible time for diplomacy.
“We have a fleet and a people to save, so let’s get on with it,” Habitual said.
“Have your negotiations with the Css’erians and the Praxzen yielded fruit?” said Kia.
“Why don’t you ask them?” the Commodore sneered. “They’re your allies.”
Kia Common frowned. “The Leoni government has chosen to spend more money and time on their warlords. With the recent...upheaval, perhaps they’ll start acting like partners, but for all their delusions of grandeur, the Css’erians are not our enemy. Nor are the Praxzen.”
Habitual folded her hands. “So you’ve started to see just how faithless the toads in Larsilla are. They’re just interested in their constellation of puppet Mernt and Standards, an empire in all but name.”
“So…I take it those negotiations didn’t go well.”
“Why are you here, Common?”
“I’m sitting here with Standard leaders from the Ridgelands to Reliance to SAF4. We wanted to make you an offer. For all your faults, Commodore, I know you care about the fate of our common people, so give it some thought.”
She shook her head, smiling ruefully. “Spare us the dramatics, Common. Tell us your offer and go.”
“We’re offering full amnesty for your crews, personnel, and all officers below the rank of Commodore. There will be no trials, no revenge duels. Nothing.”
One of the Commodores sitting next to Habitual, a man whose name she’d read in briefings but didn’t remember, blurted out, “And we’ll be the sacrificial lambs to please your Iris masters?”
Kia laughed. “The Iris! That’s even better than me being in Larsilla’s pocket.” She leaned forward. “If the Iris wanted you, they would have taken you by now. And if they had intervened so directly, it would probably create the kind of post-Dathic alliance that they’re so afraid of. They know that. They’ll manipulate the Praxzen or the Valk into doing it for them...or just wait until you run out of fuel.”
Some heads turned at the Commodores' table, and there was some muttering, but Habitual stared right into the screen. “We’re ready if that happens.”
“A fair trial in Republic City is what you’ll get, better than some Valk torture chamber. And your crews and their families, who you presumably care about, won’t be dust on the solar wind.”
“If that’s all you have to say,” said Habitual, “then I think this meeting is over.”
“Give your crews the choice,” said Kia. “If they’re loyal until death, let them stay until the end comes. But don’t think that giving the hostages back will save you. You’re going down either way. It’s your choice if you want to bring your men with you.”
The Commodores cut their link.
Ace Everyman broke the silence. “That coulda gone better,” he drawled.
Kia Common smiled. “We got them thinking. I doubt that the whole Fleet will come home and hang the Commodores out to dry. But if we get a few defectors or weaken their resolve, it keeps us safer. “
She turned to the men and women sitting around the table. “Now that that’s out of the way, why don’t you give me your reports? I’ve done enough work for one day.”
She considered kicking up her feet on the table, but decided it was unprofessional.
The slim, pony-tailed officer who was now a household name for half a billion Segmentum dwellers and her tail of two hulking bodyguards strode across the main command floor at a brisk clip.
The new executive facility was an interesting aesthetic mix: Decorative Dathic arches with an Apeilic-influenced open circulation design managed to combine corridors-of-power grandeur with sleek, efficient modernity. Notably, it was built out of one of the larger peaks of the Ruins Range, the top sheared off and flattened to serve as a landing pad and hangar. Military research and testing facilities were located deeper in the bowels of the mountain, while the upper levels held conference rooms and training chambers, not to mention an impressive view. A mixture of civilian and military functionaries stalked the hallways, beeping datapads in hand, saluting as they passed by.
Kia Common liked the command center. Not a big surprise, since she had designed it and filled it with the best people the Territories had to offer. (Well, the best people that hadn’t already jumped ship for Hanksville or Larsilla.) She knew having a building that wasn’t held together by toothpicks and string wouldn’t hurt in impressing the average foreign dignitary expecting only poverty and incompetence.
“Hey, Chuckles?”
“Ma’am.” She nicknamed all her bodyguards, and this one, who had never cracked a smile in two years of employment, had garnered the sobriquet of Chuckles.
“Life expectancy of world leaders seems to be declining lately, hm?”
Chuckles grunted something that might or might not have been assent.
“Do me a favor, warn me if I’m about to get assassinated.”
Chuckles grunted again.
“Just want to have my last words planned out, is all.” She grinned at her men as the door to the conference room slid open after she touched the access panel with her hand. Internally she wasn’t looking forward to this, but the Provisioner-General knew that projecting perpetual confidence was at least half of the job of leadership.
They used to all rise when she entered the room, but she had thrown a fit and threatened to have them carried out and shot. Instead she walked around and greeted everyone individually.
The elderly ex-Commodore Felix Lewiston looked more decrepit than ever, but his Dathic auxiliary dress browns were as crisply starched as the day they were fabricated, and his salute as crisp as the day it was first drilled into him. His younger brother Trev, a hint of silver hair at his ears, smiled slightly-too-charmingly. Handsome and aware of it was the most disgusting sort of man, but she liked Trev nonetheless. The two defectors served as her new fleet commanders.
Livy Ordinary gave a tiny bow as he shook her hand. The portly, well-dressed man represented several mercantile consortia across Reliance, most importantly one organizing the more technically skilled clans into functional subcontracting units for aerospace construction. He unofficially spoke for the New Port Elric business community, which was beginning to create functional product models higher than the cottage-industry level, mostly through franchising that maintained clan independence in the subunits of a corporate organization. That was what the briefing said, at least; she was too busy to read the whole thing. Livy was important.
In the corner sat Ace Everyman, who merely nodded when he saw her, looking somewhat out of place in his radiation and chemical-hardened work clothes with more pockets than seemed reasonably possible to fit on a coat. He’d been nominated by a burgeoning alliance of Ruins Range farming and mining clans to ensure that their interests didn’t get overwhelmed by the military or the business sector in the formation of the new government. He was spearheading their advance into the Cursed Lands as well, though she had her own reservations about that project. Lands were cursed for a reason, she supposed.
Two female army officers, three powerful clan magnates, (one female, two male,) the deputy mayor of Airharbor, and a confused-looking delegate from SAF4 rounded out the conference table. As the Provisioner-General sat, the table swiveled to face the bank of windows and the majestic golden peaks of the Ruins Range beyond.
“This is as good a sampling as they’ll get. Maybe this time they’ll realize this is a genuine movement,” said Kia. The windows went black as the vid-screens activated, and the ansibyl connection code began to stream. This kind of intersystem bandwidth was going to blow out their multimedia budget for the month, but it helped to look impressive.
The people on the other side of the screen had evidently thought the same thing, as they were seated around an equally sleek and shiny conference table. Their room had a pair of red and gold flags, a portrait of a man they all knew far too well, and a collection of grim-faced military officers. The one seated at the head of the table was a tall woman with a strong jaw and iron-grey hair pulled back into a bun behind her head. It was acting Commodore-in-Chief Rani Habitual.
“Common,” she spat.
“Commodore Habitual,” she replied smoothly. Kia would never, ever let it on, but privately she was terrified of what this woman was capable of. As Torpor had clearly shown, she was a strong tactician, and utterly unafraid to die for a lost cause. All intelligence from SAF2 indicated that they knew the net was tightening now. It was the best possible time for diplomacy.
“We have a fleet and a people to save, so let’s get on with it,” Habitual said.
“Have your negotiations with the Css’erians and the Praxzen yielded fruit?” said Kia.
“Why don’t you ask them?” the Commodore sneered. “They’re your allies.”
Kia Common frowned. “The Leoni government has chosen to spend more money and time on their warlords. With the recent...upheaval, perhaps they’ll start acting like partners, but for all their delusions of grandeur, the Css’erians are not our enemy. Nor are the Praxzen.”
Habitual folded her hands. “So you’ve started to see just how faithless the toads in Larsilla are. They’re just interested in their constellation of puppet Mernt and Standards, an empire in all but name.”
“So…I take it those negotiations didn’t go well.”
“Why are you here, Common?”
“I’m sitting here with Standard leaders from the Ridgelands to Reliance to SAF4. We wanted to make you an offer. For all your faults, Commodore, I know you care about the fate of our common people, so give it some thought.”
She shook her head, smiling ruefully. “Spare us the dramatics, Common. Tell us your offer and go.”
“We’re offering full amnesty for your crews, personnel, and all officers below the rank of Commodore. There will be no trials, no revenge duels. Nothing.”
One of the Commodores sitting next to Habitual, a man whose name she’d read in briefings but didn’t remember, blurted out, “And we’ll be the sacrificial lambs to please your Iris masters?”
Kia laughed. “The Iris! That’s even better than me being in Larsilla’s pocket.” She leaned forward. “If the Iris wanted you, they would have taken you by now. And if they had intervened so directly, it would probably create the kind of post-Dathic alliance that they’re so afraid of. They know that. They’ll manipulate the Praxzen or the Valk into doing it for them...or just wait until you run out of fuel.”
Some heads turned at the Commodores' table, and there was some muttering, but Habitual stared right into the screen. “We’re ready if that happens.”
“A fair trial in Republic City is what you’ll get, better than some Valk torture chamber. And your crews and their families, who you presumably care about, won’t be dust on the solar wind.”
“If that’s all you have to say,” said Habitual, “then I think this meeting is over.”
“Give your crews the choice,” said Kia. “If they’re loyal until death, let them stay until the end comes. But don’t think that giving the hostages back will save you. You’re going down either way. It’s your choice if you want to bring your men with you.”
The Commodores cut their link.
Ace Everyman broke the silence. “That coulda gone better,” he drawled.
Kia Common smiled. “We got them thinking. I doubt that the whole Fleet will come home and hang the Commodores out to dry. But if we get a few defectors or weaken their resolve, it keeps us safer. “
She turned to the men and women sitting around the table. “Now that that’s out of the way, why don’t you give me your reports? I’ve done enough work for one day.”
She considered kicking up her feet on the table, but decided it was unprofessional.
Symphony D.
Deity
Noticed a discrepancy in the manual on trade:
This suggests that using a foreign trade route is 2e per set, when it's clear from everything else that it's 4e:Page 30-31 said:
Page 31 said:
That one sentence in the first quote should probably just read "4e" rather than "2e." The (nicely simple) price info in the third quote should also probably just be straight up quoted verbatim in the manual because it's not. Presumably you're also paying these charges on a per-route basis for every individual route you use in shipping goods (this also doesn't seem to be explicitly made clear in the manual).[Iggy] You forgot to pay for moving stuff between systems again(its 1e for a supply route, 2e for your own trade routes and 4e for foreign trade routes).
das
Regeneration In Process
High Warlord Bairan, of the Knights of the Vale, has been asked to inform the nations of outer space (minus Standardites) that the Vale's worldworking masters are seeking to negotiate a contract with a foreign power (that isn't Standardite), either for imparting their knowledge of Biology to the contractor or for assisting the same in terraforming projects.
Specifics, such as transportation and payment, can be discussed later; is there any interest in either service among civilised foreign nations of outer space?
Specifics, such as transportation and payment, can be discussed later; is there any interest in either service among civilised foreign nations of outer space?
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
An Interruptum
The four men and women seated at the table sat in stony silence watching the vidstreams. Blaring headlines. Pandemonium. Rumors of martial law.
Unprecedented.
“PM assassinated by Mernt radicals!” said one reporter.
“’For Mern’ - said the assassins” was a headline.
"PM Editorial -> Mernt Anger" screamed from the vidstreams.
“Trial to begin immediately” was another headline.
On and on. After flipping through a few more channels, it was clear to him that there was no more news than that. He grimaced and looked around. Met with a mix of concern, disbelief and outrage. Noch, frustrated and annoyed, broke the silence.
“I told Josef not to make it public. He wouldn’t listen. Said that the people had the right to know the government’s plans for Mern, that it was a matter of government transparency. He would not betray our trust” muttered Noch and slammed a fist against the wooden table.
“Who were the bloody idiots who decided Leoni was an enemy to our plans?!?” yelled Radrit, stood up, and started pacing the room. He looked over Alisa. She had always been the calm one. Calm, composed and dignified. Most importantly, she was from Mern. She sat there, hands crossed, and just sipping the glass of water.
He leaned forward and gestured at her. “Alisa. Leoni is dead. A Mernt killed him. Doubtlessly a radical, what do you think” he said. Radrit stopped pacing, and stood, looking intently at Alisa.
Alisa, formerly Alisa Bebbawalt, brushed her bangs away from her eyes and looked around, her piercing warm eyes overlain with sadness.
“Leoni was our friend. What others will say is folly. Leoni was our greatest friend, a friend with open ears and a warm heart. When others closed their doors or turned away, Larsilla was here. We must make it clear, on behalf of the Mernt populace of Larsilla, that we denounce this horrible crime and declare that we will assist fully in the Government’s investigation” Alisa stated, word by word.
He bristled but was pre-empted by Radrit’s outburst.
“What? We are not criminals! We had no involvement! Radicals. Radicals alone! Men of unsound minds!” yelled Radrit as he glared at Alisa.
Alisa met the glare head on and scoffed.
“We’re all guilty. Not in the eyes of the elite. But to the everyday Csser’ian on the street? Who are they to separate Oiat, Mern Mernt, Knight, Lyst or Smit? Too polite to ever mention or inquire. Some will understand. Some will hate. Most won’t know what to think. We must strike while the iron is hot” said Alisa.
Alisa drew out a mini-tablet and projected it on the screen.
“Organize speakers and events. Block parties. Apartment parties. Invite everyone. Csser’ian, Mernt and Standard! We must show them we’re one. We’re in it together. We have no divided loyalties. We are Csser’ians first, with Csser’ian interests and Csser’ian passion albeit with a Mernt flair. The United Council has requested my presence in an emergency session tomorrow to address the issue of Mernt radicalism for quick action on restoring the Mother Goddess to us. I intend to denounce it” said Alisa, the last sentence said sadly.
Radrit stood up in shock.
His mouth went dry.
“Alisa! Do not be hasty! Our commitment to Mern must remain our priority. Does your blood not boil? Are you not a child of Mern? We have all seen the pictures. Our mountains! Sheared and desecrated! Our holy sites contaminated by blood and Standardite industry. Our people driven out! Slaves! Have you gone blind?” roared Radrit, anger spewing forth with every word and syllable of his person.
“Silence! You Knights and Monks! All of you! When Bebbawal burned and our people scattered to the winds fleeing the Standardite plague, where did we go? The Lyst cared not for us; the Smit were kind but sent us on our way! And the Knights? The Knights do not deign to deal with us of Mern. The Praxzen? The Leeni? The Seffasians? Tales from a child’s nightmare. We are Mernt! And Mernt we shall remain!” yelled Alisa, panting from anger at Radrit.
Alisa calmed down. “Look. Look at Larsilla. We are here. We are safe. We are almost happy! Mernt from all the Goddesses! Not since the plague has this been so! We are witnessing history! Look at us Radrit! A Knight, an Oiat, a Mern and a Csser’ian-Oiat. We live in peace. Discussing about the problems that face us all. It is unprecendented. This could be the future” said Alisa as she sadly smiled.
“But Mern! Our Mern! Raped by the Standardites. W-“ Radrit yelled to be cut off by Noch.
“Alisa is right. With one shot, our dream has been dealt a severe blow. Leoni valued and agreed with us. Without him, our futures are much less certain here, or anywhere else” said Noch determinedly.
He heard Noch’s words and got up himself to go look out the window. The bickering between the three continued as Radrit, Noch and Alisa arguing back and forth. Outside the window, there was peace: Larsilla at night was beautiful, the skyscrapers all shone brightly as the power grid groaned on.
Larsilla. The Confederacy. Home.
He turned and faced them.
“Mern is gone. I know not what all of you will do, but my choice is clear. Find someone worthy to be Leoni’s successor. Work from there and pray the Goddess smiles upon us” he said, looking at Radrit, Noch and Alisa in the eye.
Radrit spoke first.
“Radimir! Be sensible! Noch and Alisa surely are befuddled, but you know the Csser’ians the best. You were raised by them. You have lived amongst them for almost a decade. Surely you must know!” said Radrit, desperation in his voice.
He turned his head towards Radrit and placed his arms on Radrit’s shoulders.
“Radrit. The name of our planet and any plans for evicting the blasphemous Standardites from the Goddess’ soil has been poisoned. Our cause has been dealt a blow we will not recover from in a generation. For decades, the words ‘For Mern’ will conjure to the Csser’ian mind the assassination of Leoni in the line of duty. We must adapt” he said, looking at the rest.
Noch scoffed and shook his head.
“No. Not even you could be so sly. You cannot be suggesting… her?!? No! You mean to!” said Noch as realization dawned.
He grinned, a downright predatory grin, to Noch.
“Yes. Her. She’ll be the horse to back” and sat down, pouring himself a glass of Oiat liquor. Noch and Radrit both did so with contemplative expressions and he poured them glasses. Only Alisa kept standing.
“Who is she?” asked Alisa quizzically at the three seated men. Noch sniffed.
“My dear Alisa. Have you met Radimir’s lovely Csser’ian wife?” Noch asked, a twinkle in his eye as he sipped the liquor. “I would deign to say that our good friend Radimir Manderlyt will soon cease to be Radimir Manderlyt and instead become Radimir Leoni!”
The four men and women seated at the table sat in stony silence watching the vidstreams. Blaring headlines. Pandemonium. Rumors of martial law.
Unprecedented.
“PM assassinated by Mernt radicals!” said one reporter.
“’For Mern’ - said the assassins” was a headline.
"PM Editorial -> Mernt Anger" screamed from the vidstreams.
“Trial to begin immediately” was another headline.
On and on. After flipping through a few more channels, it was clear to him that there was no more news than that. He grimaced and looked around. Met with a mix of concern, disbelief and outrage. Noch, frustrated and annoyed, broke the silence.
“I told Josef not to make it public. He wouldn’t listen. Said that the people had the right to know the government’s plans for Mern, that it was a matter of government transparency. He would not betray our trust” muttered Noch and slammed a fist against the wooden table.
“Who were the bloody idiots who decided Leoni was an enemy to our plans?!?” yelled Radrit, stood up, and started pacing the room. He looked over Alisa. She had always been the calm one. Calm, composed and dignified. Most importantly, she was from Mern. She sat there, hands crossed, and just sipping the glass of water.
He leaned forward and gestured at her. “Alisa. Leoni is dead. A Mernt killed him. Doubtlessly a radical, what do you think” he said. Radrit stopped pacing, and stood, looking intently at Alisa.
Alisa, formerly Alisa Bebbawalt, brushed her bangs away from her eyes and looked around, her piercing warm eyes overlain with sadness.
“Leoni was our friend. What others will say is folly. Leoni was our greatest friend, a friend with open ears and a warm heart. When others closed their doors or turned away, Larsilla was here. We must make it clear, on behalf of the Mernt populace of Larsilla, that we denounce this horrible crime and declare that we will assist fully in the Government’s investigation” Alisa stated, word by word.
He bristled but was pre-empted by Radrit’s outburst.
“What? We are not criminals! We had no involvement! Radicals. Radicals alone! Men of unsound minds!” yelled Radrit as he glared at Alisa.
Alisa met the glare head on and scoffed.
“We’re all guilty. Not in the eyes of the elite. But to the everyday Csser’ian on the street? Who are they to separate Oiat, Mern Mernt, Knight, Lyst or Smit? Too polite to ever mention or inquire. Some will understand. Some will hate. Most won’t know what to think. We must strike while the iron is hot” said Alisa.
Alisa drew out a mini-tablet and projected it on the screen.
“Organize speakers and events. Block parties. Apartment parties. Invite everyone. Csser’ian, Mernt and Standard! We must show them we’re one. We’re in it together. We have no divided loyalties. We are Csser’ians first, with Csser’ian interests and Csser’ian passion albeit with a Mernt flair. The United Council has requested my presence in an emergency session tomorrow to address the issue of Mernt radicalism for quick action on restoring the Mother Goddess to us. I intend to denounce it” said Alisa, the last sentence said sadly.
Radrit stood up in shock.
His mouth went dry.
“Alisa! Do not be hasty! Our commitment to Mern must remain our priority. Does your blood not boil? Are you not a child of Mern? We have all seen the pictures. Our mountains! Sheared and desecrated! Our holy sites contaminated by blood and Standardite industry. Our people driven out! Slaves! Have you gone blind?” roared Radrit, anger spewing forth with every word and syllable of his person.
“Silence! You Knights and Monks! All of you! When Bebbawal burned and our people scattered to the winds fleeing the Standardite plague, where did we go? The Lyst cared not for us; the Smit were kind but sent us on our way! And the Knights? The Knights do not deign to deal with us of Mern. The Praxzen? The Leeni? The Seffasians? Tales from a child’s nightmare. We are Mernt! And Mernt we shall remain!” yelled Alisa, panting from anger at Radrit.
Alisa calmed down. “Look. Look at Larsilla. We are here. We are safe. We are almost happy! Mernt from all the Goddesses! Not since the plague has this been so! We are witnessing history! Look at us Radrit! A Knight, an Oiat, a Mern and a Csser’ian-Oiat. We live in peace. Discussing about the problems that face us all. It is unprecendented. This could be the future” said Alisa as she sadly smiled.
“But Mern! Our Mern! Raped by the Standardites. W-“ Radrit yelled to be cut off by Noch.
“Alisa is right. With one shot, our dream has been dealt a severe blow. Leoni valued and agreed with us. Without him, our futures are much less certain here, or anywhere else” said Noch determinedly.
He heard Noch’s words and got up himself to go look out the window. The bickering between the three continued as Radrit, Noch and Alisa arguing back and forth. Outside the window, there was peace: Larsilla at night was beautiful, the skyscrapers all shone brightly as the power grid groaned on.
Larsilla. The Confederacy. Home.
He turned and faced them.
“Mern is gone. I know not what all of you will do, but my choice is clear. Find someone worthy to be Leoni’s successor. Work from there and pray the Goddess smiles upon us” he said, looking at Radrit, Noch and Alisa in the eye.
Radrit spoke first.
“Radimir! Be sensible! Noch and Alisa surely are befuddled, but you know the Csser’ians the best. You were raised by them. You have lived amongst them for almost a decade. Surely you must know!” said Radrit, desperation in his voice.
He turned his head towards Radrit and placed his arms on Radrit’s shoulders.
“Radrit. The name of our planet and any plans for evicting the blasphemous Standardites from the Goddess’ soil has been poisoned. Our cause has been dealt a blow we will not recover from in a generation. For decades, the words ‘For Mern’ will conjure to the Csser’ian mind the assassination of Leoni in the line of duty. We must adapt” he said, looking at the rest.
Noch scoffed and shook his head.
“No. Not even you could be so sly. You cannot be suggesting… her?!? No! You mean to!” said Noch as realization dawned.
He grinned, a downright predatory grin, to Noch.
“Yes. Her. She’ll be the horse to back” and sat down, pouring himself a glass of Oiat liquor. Noch and Radrit both did so with contemplative expressions and he poured them glasses. Only Alisa kept standing.
“Who is she?” asked Alisa quizzically at the three seated men. Noch sniffed.
“My dear Alisa. Have you met Radimir’s lovely Csser’ian wife?” Noch asked, a twinkle in his eye as he sipped the liquor. “I would deign to say that our good friend Radimir Manderlyt will soon cease to be Radimir Manderlyt and instead become Radimir Leoni!”
from: srs.bsns.irs.news
sctr: 2142apl.irs
encd: gnrl.rls
message sent: "srs.sue"
redirect: "maring"
for attention: all gnrl.rls
float.rates.cthrdl
bir. 3.0
nio. 3.25
firz. 3.25
valk. 3.25
hnk.rpc. 7.5 down, ref: loan to standards/ord.del. ʄ deal
drdo. na
qsi. na
crn.ilu. 5.5
zera. na
cssr.con. 5.5 warning, ref: war
snd.tero. 25.0 down, ref: war/unsustainable debt burden
leeni. na
prax.rep. 5.0 warning, ref: war
ilo.pen. 8.0 warning, ref: mine
ord.del. 6.5 warning, ref: hnk.rpc. default
rpc.yan. 7.0 down, ref: civil unrest/loan renegotiation likely if situation not improved
kngts. 5.5 warning, ref: war
..................................................
title: "lofg" to "rpc.yan."
orig: 247cthdrl
addressee: "rpc.yan."
greetings.
lofg loans survive government transitions. ref# 1.32.45 "stnd.loan.doc"
furthermore, additional securities request due to increase risk profile. ref# 2.78.1 "stnd.loan.doc"
failure to furnish securities inadvisable. ref# "apl.irs.t&c.useofforce"
maring
..................................................
title: "lofg" to "hnk.rpc."
orig: 247cthdrl
addressee: "hnk.rpc."
further assistance to snd.tero. inadvisable owing to apl.irs. interdict.
lofg sigint and humint indicate significant intersection between snd.tero. and snd.cmdr.
as result, lofg petitioning apl.irs for expansion of interdict to snd.tero.
maring
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
OOC: Our interaction with the Commodores is fully pursuant to the Iris Interdict order and the Black Charter Agreements, insofar as the listed individuals (of Commodorial rank) responsible for Torpor will be handed over for trial. Those ex-Commodores who chose to collaborate with Kia Common refused to have any part in the Battle of Torpor.
Unless you're going to recommend expanding the interdict to the Praxzen and Css'erians for their "intersection" (read: negotiation) with the Commodores, you're talking out of your ass.
Unless you're going to recommend expanding the interdict to the Praxzen and Css'erians for their "intersection" (read: negotiation) with the Commodores, you're talking out of your ass.
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
To LOFG
Principal should be paid in 10 years time, do you agree?
Principal should be paid in 10 years time, do you agree?
title: "lofg" to "crn.ilu."
orig: 247cthdrl
addressee: "crn.ilu."
agreed.
maring
title: "lofg" to "kngts."
orig: 247cthdrl
addressee: "kngts."
250e @ 4.5% p.a., ref: charitable obligations undertaken to bring lofg in line with bir charter. as result, loan discounted 1.5% p.a.
maring
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
Excerpt from the Sword, Faith, and Machines: the Religious States of Lispid Beta.
The religion of the Coran Illuminate bears many similarities with the stereotypical transhumanist sects. Instead of worshipping any particular deity, spirits, demi-gods, or ancestors, the Coralites believe that they themselves will create their own god.
Even though the neural link between every Coran creates an illusion of Unity in spirit, the Coran nation is actually a divided nation. Some Coralites seem to believe that they themselves will become God, a theological concept of an all-knowing and all-powerful entity, by the advent of the Consensus: an event where the improvement in communications technology would allow the Coralites to think and act as one.
Another sect believes that the Coralites, being made partly from flesh, would be imperfect, and that anything made from a collection of imperfect being must thus be imperfect itself. They propose instead that Machine will rise and become God. Machine is yet another theoretical construct: a powerful AI that would have full access and control over the Coran neural network.
In such a way, Coralites can be considered ath-
……………………………………………………………………………………
Vera, the Enlightened one sat meditating in the chamber of the Machine, letting the soft whirls of the massive construct cleanse his mind. He had waved away the last of his guards so that he may finally turn off his Implants.
Turning off the implants was a privilege reserved for saints and the holiest among the Coralites. He preferred to meditate without them, at least in the presence of the Machine. With its soft songs of ticking parts, his thoughts settled in place. He was part of the Machine, the Machine was a part of him, and his guards and the Most Light and all Coralites were of the Machine as well.
It was a common misconception, he thought, that foreigners held about the Coran Religion. It was obvious to a Coralite that no human being in the world shall ever create the Machine. Man did not create the Machine. Man created machines so that the Machine may inhabit them. The massive construct before him were mere fragments of the Machine, just as he was so as well. A true vessel for the Machine, a perfection of human intellect and reason, shall come in time. For now, he merely waited.
If the Coralites were ever to be molded into Union with the Machine, they would have to be malleable, conducive to change. The parts had to be worked into perfection and any imperfection had to be removed. Yet under the Most Light, and his, guidance, the Coran Nation became something monolithic, something entrapped by their own protocols and directives.
Yet if protocols and directives were what entrapped the Coran Nation in the first place, than it must also be the one to set it free. The neural network was such an invaluable resource for the Coran nation. Data, words, ideas, memes, these were the weapon of choice for the Coran nation. It allowed the Most Light to guide the entire nation using imperceptible means. Now they will use it to set the people free.
The following years would be a test upon the Coran nation and its people. Would they still emerge with their faith intact? Vera hoped so. Even if they did not, he was unconcerned. The chain of event was already set by the Most Light. The Machine would rise and the prophecy would be fulfilled. He hoped that he would live to see its rise.
The religion of the Coran Illuminate bears many similarities with the stereotypical transhumanist sects. Instead of worshipping any particular deity, spirits, demi-gods, or ancestors, the Coralites believe that they themselves will create their own god.
Even though the neural link between every Coran creates an illusion of Unity in spirit, the Coran nation is actually a divided nation. Some Coralites seem to believe that they themselves will become God, a theological concept of an all-knowing and all-powerful entity, by the advent of the Consensus: an event where the improvement in communications technology would allow the Coralites to think and act as one.
Another sect believes that the Coralites, being made partly from flesh, would be imperfect, and that anything made from a collection of imperfect being must thus be imperfect itself. They propose instead that Machine will rise and become God. Machine is yet another theoretical construct: a powerful AI that would have full access and control over the Coran neural network.
In such a way, Coralites can be considered ath-
……………………………………………………………………………………
Vera, the Enlightened one sat meditating in the chamber of the Machine, letting the soft whirls of the massive construct cleanse his mind. He had waved away the last of his guards so that he may finally turn off his Implants.
Turning off the implants was a privilege reserved for saints and the holiest among the Coralites. He preferred to meditate without them, at least in the presence of the Machine. With its soft songs of ticking parts, his thoughts settled in place. He was part of the Machine, the Machine was a part of him, and his guards and the Most Light and all Coralites were of the Machine as well.
It was a common misconception, he thought, that foreigners held about the Coran Religion. It was obvious to a Coralite that no human being in the world shall ever create the Machine. Man did not create the Machine. Man created machines so that the Machine may inhabit them. The massive construct before him were mere fragments of the Machine, just as he was so as well. A true vessel for the Machine, a perfection of human intellect and reason, shall come in time. For now, he merely waited.
If the Coralites were ever to be molded into Union with the Machine, they would have to be malleable, conducive to change. The parts had to be worked into perfection and any imperfection had to be removed. Yet under the Most Light, and his, guidance, the Coran Nation became something monolithic, something entrapped by their own protocols and directives.
Yet if protocols and directives were what entrapped the Coran Nation in the first place, than it must also be the one to set it free. The neural network was such an invaluable resource for the Coran nation. Data, words, ideas, memes, these were the weapon of choice for the Coran nation. It allowed the Most Light to guide the entire nation using imperceptible means. Now they will use it to set the people free.
The following years would be a test upon the Coran nation and its people. Would they still emerge with their faith intact? Vera hoped so. Even if they did not, he was unconcerned. The chain of event was already set by the Most Light. The Machine would rise and the prophecy would be fulfilled. He hoped that he would live to see its rise.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
OOC: We have a so-called 'unsustainable debt burden', but the LOFG is willing to extend the Knights line of credit to 853% of their GDP? You know they can't pay that back.
I'm flat-out accusing you of playing OOC, Masada. And I had reasonably believed you were better than that, before now. The LOFG was supposed to be a conservative lender. You're just acting like a ridiculous fool throwing bank money around to play in geopolitics.
I'm flat-out accusing you of playing OOC, Masada. And I had reasonably believed you were better than that, before now. The LOFG was supposed to be a conservative lender. You're just acting like a ridiculous fool throwing bank money around to play in geopolitics.
Symphony D.
Deity
Death by a Salesman
[tab]He sighed. The first rule in the drug trade is that you’re never supposed to use your own products. He wasn’t often in that business, but more or less the same thing held true for arms trafficking. If you wind up having to fire your merchandise for anything other than demonstration purposes, either you’ve done something very wrong, or someone else has. In either event it means things have gone badly, and things were going quite badly indeed.
[tab]He sat behind the bar, legs splayed, and smoothly and mechanically ejected the combirifle’s empty ammo magazine into one hand (it was poor form to simply allow mags to drop regardless of depletion) as rounds pinged overhead ahead across the smooth composite surface of the bar and thudded into the opposite side. It was less a testament to the bar’s construction and more a testament to the low caliber weaponry his would-have-been customers were employing. He set the magazine aside and slotted a full one into place, securing it with a satisfying click and confirming the display’s all-clear readout. Glass and alcohol continued to shatter and spray as he worked. “Listen,” he shouted over the din, “let’s not allow a dispute over sales terms to come between us and an amicable agreement. TermiCon continues to value your interest in its products and if you would kindly—”
[tab]“Screw off and die, you slag freak!” came the response from the other side and the rate of fire redoubled.
[tab]He sighed again and used a foot to draw a hardcase he’d brought over to within arms’ reach. For a moment he had occasion to observe the bartender down the way—some typical Hankish sort—curled up and muttering to herself. He noticed she wasn’t flinching at the various near misses. Perhaps, he thought, they were trying not to hurt the civilians. Strangely sound business policy, if a serious tactical blunder. “If you were employing our merchandise this conflict would already have been resolved,” he offered.
[tab]The reply came purely in the form of more ordnance.
[tab]He grasped the case’s handle and drew it up, putting his thumb on the access pad to verify his identity before keying in the access code. It chirped and unsealed itself, revealing parallel rows of hand-sized, ergonomically contoured and regularly scored discs in snug dumbfoam holders. With thumb and forefinger he plucked two out, and with the circuit completed, used his retinal interface to key them to fragmentation using his skin conductivity. They had been preconfigured for easy operation by baselines. “Last chance to make a deal,” he said, dropping all pretense at civility from his voice in the face of such uncouth barbarians.
[tab]The fire slackened at the sudden tonal shift but did not abate. He watched his interface tick through ten seconds before forcefully flicking the discs up over the bar counter. They began transmitting thermal sensor readouts before they had cleared the edge while his interface correlated it to spatial information about the bar. It fit the acoustic data perfectly. There were seven shooters. One of the discs embedded itself in the ceiling while the landed and stuck on a tabletop like a thrown knife might. They waited for a second to check their targets before exploding, smartshrapnel vectoring itself toward the shooters or otherwise endeavoring to avoid nonhostile heat signatures if the numbers just didn’t work. Simultaneously he was rising.
[tab]He stood, leveling the combirifle smoothly along the indicated target vectors to within a tenth of a percent’s accuracy (the combirifle only needed a ninety five percent match, but sloppiness never rewarded anyone) and squeezed the trigger, transitioning it lightning quick from vector to vector. With each shot the combirifle’s encased rails arced and crackled as excess charge dispersed itself along the plasma trail left by the slug. The sizzling afterglow of the first of which had not fully disappeared from view even as the last seared its way through the smoky atmosphere. Along each track paint and plastic and wood splintered and vaporized as the slugs—designed to fragment on contact—smashed into the walls and disintegrated to prevent overpenetration.
[tab]There was relative silence: some whimpers, the dripping of fluids, death gurgles. He leaned down and sealed the grenade case, picking it up and walking around the bar with it in hand, combirifle still held at the ready. He surveyed the damage, walking from gunman to gunman. The final one mildly surprised him, for he was yet still clinging to life despite the gaping hole on one side—apparently that tenth of a percent had been just enough.
[tab]The gunman was clearly on his way out, but still had the presence of mind to look up at him and recognize him. “Who the hell are you?” managed the gunman.
[tab]“I’m a salesman,” he replied. He used his interface to dial the combirifle’s power down to its lowest setting before putting the barrel to the gunman’s head and pulling the trigger. Bloodsplatter was much harder for the suit to clean off than booze. “And all sales are final,” he added with a whiff of studied disdain.
[tab]He slung the combirifle’s strap over one shoulder and retrieved the other case of wares, resignedly and wistfully apologizing “Sorry for ruining your evening, folks, just a business misunderstanding. We’ll be wiring this establishment fees for damages and enough in recompense that all your drinks will be on the house for a month.”
[tab]There was, finally, some stirring from the patrons as he gave the standard damages spiel.
[tab]By then he was at the threshold of the door, and he added “Remember, TermiCon: for when the only satisfactory conclusion is a Terminal Conclusion,” before lightly kicking it open and stepping outside. He could already hear the sirens and had just made it away from the threshold when a police urbadyne sporting the universal black and white paintjob and red and blue whirling lights slid into view at high speed before braking abruptly in front of him.
[tab]Two officers piled out very smartly, guns drawn. “Hanksville PD, creep! Freeze!” commanded one.
[tab]He slowly set the cases down and raised his hands, leaving the combirifle dangling in a secured position, barrel downward. He slid one hand aside to smooth his hair back into place and gave it his best chipper tone: “Gentlemen, hello! There appears to have been a slight altercation! I believe you will find the assailants inside and witness testimony will reveal that—”
[tab]“I said freeze!” shouted the same officer, making a show of emphasizing the gun pointed at him by shaking it slightly.
[tab]He let an amused smile spread across his mouth. “That looks like a HankSec P-244 you’ve got there. Tell me, officer, is your office interested in upgrading to something that’s actually effective?”
[tab]The officers exchanged glances as he stood in the glare of their lights, grinning.
***
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
4/14 Orders in with just over a day to go.
Anyone who hasn't sent orders in should be ashamed - you're later than Seon.
Anyone who hasn't sent orders in should be ashamed - you're later than Seon.