Blood and Commerce [FT - Closed - N.E.A.R.]

[Arcerion]

Blood and Commerce



Bendon Blackford breathed slowly, enjoying the clean air offered on one of the many moons of Auranis II. Titus IV, the embassy centre of the Conglomerate currently was broadcasting messages to the Empires of Canuckland, Arcturus IV, Nuclear Fist, Baptist Korea, Voldoviana, and the Wandering Argonians. The signals were being sent out in short transmissions, ensuring that the full pieces would reach the governments of the respective planets to bring commerce to the doorstep of Auranis.

Petty Officer 1st Class Blackford slowly walked along the grounds of the resort, again enjoying the relative relaxation that was offered. He had just been transferred from the fron of a dying rebellion on one of the mining colonies far in the reaches of the Conglomerate. He had watched his men die, some in his arms. He had killed men, sometimes with nought but his bare hands, and often with malice that would have made his mother cringe. He grimaced, memories coming back, and looked down at the former left forearm that had once been his. A rebel grenade had taken it, but a cybernetic replacement meant he was almost good as new. Part of him was company property, and he smiled at the though. Disability pay isn't all that bad, now is it? he chuckled, his mood changing. His XO, a Petty Officer 2nd Class jogged up, informing him that the Ambassador was done his transmission and was en route back to his headquarters.

To All nations Within the Range of Sector L8,

The Interstellar Conglomerate of Arcerion cordially invites you to a trade summit, hosted on the moon of Titus IV, a moon around Auranis II, our company's headquarters. This trade summit is aimed at creating an interstellar trading union, forged in commerce, and hopefully without blood. Ambassadors are invited for a length of several weeks, at their leisure, as negotiations are expected to take some time. We expect that your ambassadors shall arrive on the moon of Titus within days of this transmission, as we must conduct our business soon. Security will be provided by veterans of recent conflicts on leave, all men tested in combat so your envoys shall eb safe.

We look forward to conducting our business, and to future endeavours with your Empires.

Sincerely,

Chief of the 1st Trade Directorate,

-Kennith Sladek

The security teams roamed slowly, as their rifles lay easily along their chests, and smiled as the pretty womenfolk of the planet walked the grounds of the embassy, as it was partly a community hub for activities and town hall meetings. Blackford winked at a young blonde, who giggled and ran to catch up with her friends. It's good to be a company man, he thought to himself.

[Wandering Argonians]

The message was a strange one, but welcome. In the bustling, wealthy metropolis of 'Defiance', home city and home to the great houses Longtail and Quickclaw, preparations were rapidly made to send an envoy to this new trading partner, despite the warnings of more military-minded individuals.

The ancient clan of Quickclaw were notoriously shrewd merchants, a family of great wealth and power on Argonia, and keen to explore the options of trade with other civilizations throughout the galaxy. It had been five-thousand years since they'd made such a voyage, and their house fortunes were at an all-time low since the end of the Great War. House Longtail was quite the opposite. A clan of warrior-craftsmen, they devoted entire lifetimes to perfecting the art of weapon-making. Renowned for their blade-smiths, their edged weapons were in the hands of anyone who was anyone, be they hero soldier, statesman, diplomat, or what-have-you, they demanded Longtail steel.

As such, a partnership between the two ancient clans was a prudent option. The Longtail could focus on their obsessive pursuit of bladed perfection, while the Quickclaw could focus on finding the optimum markets for their wares. Both Houses benefited, and their strengths were put to use in the best places. After such a partnership had endured for countless centuries, it was no surprise that representatives from both Houses were on-board the luxurious star-yacht 'Essence of Wealth'. The vessel was a joint Quickclaw-Longtail undertaking, equipped with a Master-class forge as well as numerous well-appointed apartments and a breathtaking lounge, allowing the master blade-smiths to pursue their next masterpiece while the traders entertained potential buyers.

The sleek, gold-and-white colored vessel dropped out of warp-space a safe distance from the moon of Titan IV, lazily making its approach towards the embassy as the pilot hailed the Arcerion control tower. On confirmation of their IFF signature, the vessel coasted in smoothly for a landing, posting itself on the landing pad designated for their use and lowering the boarding ramp with agonizing slowness.

First to appear were the House Guard of Clan Longtail, four warriors clad in royal blue trousers and tunics, and breastplates of white ceramite chased in gold. Master-Crafted Silk-Swords were on the back of each warrior, in a curious opposing pattern, the golden-etched hilt of one poking over the right shoulder, and the hilt of the other seen beneath the left arm. The weapons themselves were mostly ornamental, but no less deadly. Custom dictated that Shakesh Longtail, Clan-Father and Forge-Master of his illustrious House, be attended by a detachment of his finest warriors, despite the precautions taken by their most gracious hosts. The warriors stood firmly at attention, breast-plates and blades shining in the bright sun.

The weapons were a short, single-edged, katana-like weapon, subtly curved towards the tip. In a nod to more modern traditions, each blade-wielder carried a Master-Crafted needle-pistol holstered in white, gold-chased leather on his right hip. Shakesh himself was next down the ramp, his green scales grayed around the edges with his ancient age, but his body was still powerfully-constructed from his centuries of working the forges. His sort had a stange, ageless quality to them, and aside from their prehensile tails, the Longtail Clan in particular was a long-lived House, something to do with their forge-work.

He was clad in robes the same color as his House Guard, a deep blue with a loose-fitting and functional white shirt and pants beneath. A simple chain of wrought gold hung from his neck, with a pendant displaying swords arranged in the same curious manner as his guards' weapons at the end. Behind him was Samus Quickclaw, dressed in the deep green robes of his high-born family, trimmed with golden thread. The tunic and pants beneath where ornately patterned in the same colors, matching the jewelry he'd chosen for the occasion, an almost gaudy collection of large gemstones set into three rings on his hands and the chain-necklace that displayed the gold-wrought image of the cross sword and quill, his own house sigil.

Clearly, the two families differed greatly in their clothing styles. If anything, Longtail seemed to be annoyed that he needed to dress in a ceremonial manner at all, while Quickclaw was quite the opposite. By all appearances, this was his normal standard of dress. Neither of the delegates were armed, at least not obviously. Shakesh Longtail was likely a handful if he chose to be, but the old forgemaster seemed rather more eager to be done with the whole pomp-and-circumstance introductions and on with the proceedings. Quickclaw seemed to revel in the pageantry, for whatever reason. He lived for the deal, the haggle, the satisfaction of an agreement well-struck. The two had barely reached the end of the ramp when the green-clad trader mentioned something to the blue-clad craftsman, who dismissed whatever it was with an annoyed wave of his hand...

"You drag me from my forge to an unknown world, and for what, Samus?"

Quickclaw seemed unaffected by his old friend's manners, he'd become quite used to it...

"To show our potential trade partners what wonderful goods you and your house are capable of producing, old friend. What good is a trader if he has no wares to sell?"

Longtail snorted in annoyance again, his namesake twitching beneath his robe irritably, the ear-fins on his head narrowing in annoyance...

"And what good is a forge-master when he's not in his forge? This is the exact purpose of our long-standing agreement. The same agreement I had with your father, and his father before him. Your shining personality greets the prospective buyer so they're more inclined to buy something and I can get more work done. Dragging me along on this venture seems pointless..."

Ever the optimist, Quickclaw shook his head as the pair walked forward...

"You have seven sons capable of handling things while you're gone, Shakesh. Besides, it's evident you needed a vacation..."

The old Argonian shook his greying head slowly as the two stepped off the ramp and down between the rows of Longtail's House Guard...

[Arcerion]

Petty Officer 1st Class Blackford escorted the company's ambassador, the Right Honourable Kennith Sladek smiled, seeing his fellow envoys leave their ship. He extended his hand, showing that he meant no harm and he greeted them with open arms. "Welcome to the moon of Titus IV, we are pleased to make your acquaintance." he said with a broad smile, as was his way. "We hope you will take some time to settle, and adjust to our planet, I am sure your journey was a long one." Sladek motioned for Blackford, who walked up, in full combat armour minus his helmet. "My employee here will show you to your private quarters. Negotiations begin tomorrow. Feel free to walk the grounds as you wish, simply ask anyone for something and we shall grant it." Sladek said, and with that he bowed deeply, and left.

Blackford studied the guards waiting, and found the sword-wielding foreigners a little strange, but they had the same steel in their eyes that he saw in so many of his men. He nodded, and with an open hand motioned for them to follow him. He put his hand up to his radio, ordering some of his men to sling their rifles and carry luggage. A squad of troopers did just so, and soon walked out with the first of many bags. Blackford lead the delegation to their private quarters, a quaint cottage-style house on ambassador's row. It was in sight of the small wooded lake, and the main resort area. It was beautiful, the dark wooded trees and cool breeze, sound of birds and small animals in the air. Blackford opened the door, and two of his men went in and swept the building without even an order, as was their nature. The bags were placed carefully in the lobby, and Blackford saluted. He kept a squad on outside security, then returned to the landing pad to await the next delegation and guide their ship t the hangars on the other side of the lake.

[Wandering Argonians]

Shakesh and Samus were quite impressed with the accommodations, Samus in particular rather pleased with the opulence involved. He found it rather odd that uniformed troops were asked to carry his extensive luggage, when he had brought nearly half a platoon's worth of servants to handle just such an duty. The confused servant party had trailed along behind the luggage-toting soldiers, but settled back into their familiar and comforting routine of attending to the every whim of their employer, Samus Quickclaw.

The escort Shakesh had brought from his home-world had split itself into two separate three-man teams. Three had stayed with the vessel itself, and three had followed behind the servants. Two of the warriors, with their strange weaponry, posted themselves just inside the front door of the cottage, while the third, Shakesh's oldest grand-son and head of his personal security detail, remained close at hand to attend to his grandfather's wishes. It was an easy task, the old man never did need much, and was content to sit on the front porch of the quaint cottage and watch the comings and goings of the moon's inhabitants, like many old people seemed to enjoy, regardless of species.

The young warrior seemed ill-suited to the ceremonial role, and seemed to loathe the extravagant dress uniform he'd been forced to wear for this outing. While Quickclaw was busying himself ordering his substantial entourage about as they arranged his luggage, the two Longtail clansmen had seated themselves on the front porch. Shakesh had removed the heavy blue robe as soon as they'd entered the cottage, casting it onto a nearby chair before returning outside clad in the simple, loose-fitting garments he preferred. In fact they were identical to his daily clothing back in the forge, but were substantially cleaner. His forearms and hands were dotted with old burn-scars, and the palms were hard and calloused. Despite his lofty position in his House and Clan, Shakesh performed a great deal of the manual labor associated with the daily duties. He'd spend days, sometimes weeks in his great-forge beneath the clan's home in Defiance, plying his trade as he'd done for countless years. Outside of the forge, he found himself bored and agitated. His grandson, Hector, was a welcome presence. His own sons were well on their way to becoming forge-masters in their own right, but a few of their children had chosen different paths. Hector was one of them, an exceptionally-talented warrior who'd studied the clan's traditional double-sword fighting style...

"Hector, come sit with me. But first go inside and remove that ridiculous monkey-suit. Instruct the others to do the same. I'll not have my personal guard standing about looking liked painted whores..."

While soft-spoken, Shakesh's voice had a deep, raspy quality to it...

"Gladly, Grandfather..."

Moments later, the younger Argonian returned in an outfit similar to his grandfather, but without his blades. The needle-gun hung from his belt in a much more subdued holster of simple brown leather, unadorned. The weapon was an expert's choice, a slim and elegant handgun that fired thin shards of sharp alloy coated in a potent neuro-toxin. It took a true master to inflict a swift kill, but the poison would take its toll quickly as well, and only got worse with each successive hit. Still, it had no noticeable recoil and made little noise. While deadly, they were incredibly difficult to manufacture and expensive to boot. Shakesh himself had forged the blades employed by his detail, while the House gunsmith had worked for nearly a year straight to make enough of the Master-crafted needle-weapons for the six-man team.

Hector seated himself in one of the well-padded chairs next to the ancient Forge-Master, and sighed. This was a serene place, a hub of commerce. There was no need for him here, and he resented being dragged along. He knew his men shared his feelings on the topic, but they were far too disciplined to make their displease known. Household troops rarely fought in open conflict, and the only actual blood Hector had spilled was during ritual combats between the wealthy houses themselves, and even then such contests were only to first blood. He longed for an actual fight, a chance to prove himself. He'd been expressly forbidden from enlisting in the Imperial Guard, and the only route open to him lay through the Defiance Military Academy...

"Tell me, Grandfather. Why am I here?"

The old Argonian turned his head slowly, faded blue eyes sparkling for a moment with mirth. He had little time for fools like Samus Quickclaw, even if the timeless agreements between their houses demanded that he was at least civil. For his grandchildren, he had lifetimes...

"Why are you here in the philosophical sense, or why did I bring you along? One question I can answer. The other involves a career change on your part..."

Hector seemed taken aback for a moment, surprised by the ancient's dry attempt at humor. He recovered swiftly, however..

"Why did you bring me with you? This is clearly a safe world, and they would gain little but the Empire's wrath by doing you harm. They clearly wish to keep you safe. Why bring me and my men?"

The old one knew that the boy was no fool, obviously protocol demanded that he bring an honor guard. He had picked six from the fifty or so retainers that served as warriors for his house, including Hector...

"I brought you so that you might see more of the spaces between the stars. Your blood stirs, makes you restless. You may not think I notice these things, but these old eyes are useful for more than watching the hammer strike adamantine plate. You truly have a warrior's spirit, and do not play at the ideal like the other false heroes of the other houses. Why do you think you do so well in combat? Your blades are undoubtedly the best forged..."

Hector turned to face his grandfather, and was shocked that there was a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lipless reptilian mouth. He was speechless...

"... But it is the warrior who wields the weapon, who makes it a part of his being, that truly determines the outcome of the fight. I could spend years forging the most perfect blade in the galaxy, and present it to a buffoon like Samus Quickclaw. You'd still defeat him, even if armed with little more than a stick..."

It was Hector's turn to smile now, the idea of dueling the master trader armed with a rough tree-branch appealed to him...

"I understand, but my talents are wasted here. I appreciate the gesture, and this is certainly a wondrous planet..."

"Moon, boy."

"Yes, a wondrous 'moon', but..."

Shakesh leaned forward in his chair, obviously knowing what Hector was going to say before he said it...

"Spit it out, boy. You're dancing about the issue like a drunken maiden, and none-too-gracefully I might add..."

The young warrior was silent for a moment, then spoke, nearly stumbling over his own words...

"I want to fight. I want to be a real warrior, not a pretender who fights in contests of skill, and Father has forbidden me to enlist..."

The ancient was aware of his oldest son's desire to keep the boy close...

"He's forbidden you to choose the path of a common Guardsman. I agree with his choice..."

The look on Hector's face was priceless. Shakesh could have slapped him and he'd have looked less surprised...

"The life of a common Guardsman is not for you, young Hector. You are a leader, born to lead troops into battle. As such, I have released you to the Defiance Military Academy..."

Hector was still speechless, and remained so for a long few moments...

"What did Father say?"

The mirth returned to those faded blue eyes again...

"What do you think he said? I am, however, still Forge-Master of Clan Longtail. My word is still law. It has been too long since we had a son fighting for the family honor on a real battlefield. We are blessed by the All-Father to be alive during such interesting times. The Empire marches forth to reconquer the worlds lost to us after the Great War. You and I are guests of an as-yet unknown alien culture at a trade summit. It is a time of change, and about damned time the sons of Longtail contributed more than just fine steel to the war effort..."

The joy Hector felt couldn't be expressed with words...

"I don't know what to say, Grandfather. You've done me a service a simple thank-you cannot do justice to..."

The old Forgemaster chuckled, and gestured towards the cottage behind them...

"Don't say a damn thing. Go and fetch the Hist-whiskey. Second suitcase, can't miss it. Tonight we celebrate your enrollment, and may you bring glory to our great family name..."

[Arcturus IV]

SIC:

Dominar Rhys Fellour sat in his office, squinting out of habit as he stared at the communique displayed on the screen before him. His rheumy eyes had long since failed, so there was no real need or use for squinting. Instead, he viewed his surroundings through the optical implant embedded in his forehead. Still, old habits died hard, so he continued to squint.

The communique was an announcement from his aide. Apparently an alien named Kenneth Sladek had initiated contact willingly, and wished to establish trade relations with the Arcturans. Rhys harrumphed thoughtfully. Trade was beneficial. He was extremely suspicious, of course, but ever since the launch of the ACCEURS two centuries ago, the Arcturan economy had been recovering slowly but steadily - and yet, they were still unable to do more than mass produce drone fleets and ground-based weapons platforms. The solitary ship that had been constructed since those days now rested somewhere in the heart of the galaxy, forever attached to a rocky planetoid, in an attempt to boost their ship-producing capabilities and simultaneously establish a firm foothold in the galaxy.

But now, with this trade summit invitation, Rhys thought perhaps they might have a better chance at accelerating their return to their former fleet production levels. He pondered this for a full half-hour before reaching forward and tapping the holographic display before him.

"Contact Petra," he ordered the system SI. Petra Dryask was the name of his aide. A lithe young female Arcturan with a serious, quiet demeanor, she often spent time with the dominar when there was a lull in his duties. He enjoyed their conversations - the two often discussed hypothetical scenarios, and Petra provided a fresh young outlook to counter his two-plus centuries of experience. Her opinions weighed more heavily on his decisions than most were aware, and to be frank, that was how he preferred it. It would not do for some insurgent or terrorist to find one of the only weaknesses in the dominar's nigh-flawless system.

"Petra here. What is your wish, Dominar?" she asked as her face appeared on the autostereoscopic screen. Rhys secretly enjoyed her inflected use of the capital D as opposed to the lowercase when speaking his title. It was a habit few shared, and fewer understood. She smiled as she awaited his reply.

"I wish to attend the trade summit I was previously informed of, my dear," he said, smiling in return. "This may well prove to be useful in our fleet-buillding efforts, and I would very much like to oversee the talks personally."

She frowned slightly at his words. "But sir, it is dangerous. You have many enemies, both known and unknown, and to willingly place yourself in harm's way-"

Rhys cut her off gently but firmly. "There is no danger, Petra. I mean to send my doppelganger. Have you forgotten?" he chided her, as a father would his daughter.

She blushed, a light brown spreading across her facial features. "Of course. My apologies, Dominar."

He chuckled quietly. "It is quite alright. My own mind slips from time to time. We are not perfect, after all." He shifted slightly in his powered chair, glancing out the window briefly as Arcturus set in the distance. "Please have my yacht pulled around to the landing pad while I see to the preparations for the doppelganger."

"As you wish, sir." She smiled once more before cutting the connection, her face vanishing from the viewscreen.

"Now then," Rhys said, half to himself and half to the lifeless android standing in the corner of the room he now turned to face, "Let us get you ready for the show, shall we?"

=====================================================================================================================================================

Rhys strode onto the landing pad, stretching and blinking in the growing Arcturan dusk. It was always an interesting experience, activating his doppelganger. It was designed to look exactly as he did in his earlier days as Dominar, before time and entropy had relegated him to his power chair. He nodded, satisfied that everything worked precisely as it should, and entered the Gauntlet.

A squad of two secondary attack drones, two secondary shield drones, two secondary intelligence drones, and a single primary control drone were waiting to accompany him, as well as a service crew of five androids. "Is there anything you require?" the primary control drone, designated Alpha 9351-6Y Red, or as the dominar liked to call it, "Alfred", asked him.

"No thank you, I am fine," he replied, settling into his seat in the central lounge. "Just get us there as quickly as possible. I am eager to see what this Kenneth fellow has to offer."

"As you wish, sir," Alfred replied, before taking its position across from him. The Gauntlet's engines activated, and its landing gear withdrew as it lifted into the air and proceeded to orbit in preparation for vector jump.

=====================================================================================================================================================

IC:

The Gauntlet appeared in orbit around Titus IV with a brief and quiet flash of orange light as it completed its vector jump. The vector thrusters aboard the Gauntlet were the latest prototype, and capable of making jumps of up to 10,000 lightyears at a time. Of course, the charge time and cooldown time were monstrous as a result, and the cost so prohibitive that only the dominar's own private yacht had such a drive. After transmitting evidence of their invitation, the Gauntlet broke from orbit around the moon and moved to the landing pad reserved for them.

The glossy black craft lowered itself slowly onto the pad, almost invisible in the night's darkness were it not for its spotlights playing across the surface below as it ensured that the landing zone was unobstructed before settling into place on its landing gear with a hiss. The access door on the side of the forward observatory opened, and Rhys Fellour stepped out and onto the moon, followed by Alfred and his other drones. The androids stayed aboard, as they were merely there to pilot and serve aboard the Gauntlet, not to mingle or participate in trade negotiations.

Rhys, upon seeing Blackford, looked the man over carefully before addressing him. "I am Dominar Rhys Galvinius Fellour, of the Arcturan Dominion. I have come to personally oversee the trade discussions and agreements between our peoples. I hope my arrival at night is not an issue." The universal communicator built into his lapel, a miniaturised version of the ones built into the drones, would (hopefully) translate conversations between himself and any other person within earshot, for all parties involved.

[Arcerion]

Blackford was tired. There was no sugar-coating it. His XO had shaken him, and told him another shuttle was entering the atmosphere. Blackford dressed in just the essentials. He put on a pair of BDU trousers, and a long sleeve shirt bearing the company's logo. He holstered his sidearm, and placed a field cap on his head, jogging out to meet a fully armoured squad of troopers waiting to escort him to the landing pad. He watched as the graceful shuttle landed, and a single figure slid out, giving his greeting, if not metallic because of the transponder on his collar. "Thank you sir, but I am not the Ambassador. Your kindness is appreciated, I am Petty officer 1st Class Bendon Blackford, head of resort security." Blackford saluted sharply, and his forearm made small metallic noises as it continued to function as a human arm. "Sir, if you allow me, I will escort you to your private quarters, please follow me."

Blackford turned sharply, and without a word half of his team slung their rifles and picked up some crates they found near the ramp, then told an attendant they shockingly found still inside that the tower would send them to the hangars.

Soon the cottage came into view, and Blackford motioned for two of his men just to sweep the house just on the off chance there was an assassin hiding inside. The veterans nodded upon leaving, and stood smartly outside the door, knowing without a question they were on sentry duty. Blackford looked to the Dominar, and simply said "Sir, if you require anything, the men outside your door are at your service. If they cannot get what you require, they will have a servant sent to ensure you do. They will also accompany around the grounds, as you have a day or two to settle in and get adjusted to the moon and our day and night cycle." Blackford saluted again, saw the sun was due to rise again in a few hours via his arm tablet and grumbled. Might as well go to the gym and work out, going to be dawn soon anyways. Blackford thought, and he left for the weight room, slapping a young 3rd Class on the back who was busy on the treadmill. "Evenin' sir. New arrival?"

"Yeah, looks like another customer."

"You hear anything about that engagement out on Eros II?" the young soldier said.

"Yeah. Shame that we lost a lot of good men there. Fucking insurgents are dying like flies though, they realized they can't win, and are trying to sue for peace."

"Sir, if I may. A friend of mine from the Academy is just finishing his tour there, and I was wo-"

"I'll prepare the paperwork tomorrow and have Commander Dagos approve it. My command deserves the best, and I would gladly do you a favour, son." Blackford said, leaving the soldier speechless and flushed. "Now get off the treadmill, I am getting soft on this security duty."

[Kornosia]

On Approach to Resport Moon

"This had better go to plan Casik... I still think it should be a sniping operation. Getting in close may satisfy Khraawls demand for blood, but it may end up being our blood that is offered as well." commented one of the Special Operators as he settled himself into the cushioned seat of the drop-pod he and his partner were sitting in as a mean of entering the moons atmosphere. It was a special model that was covered in an extremely heat resistant gell that would keep it from burning up like a shooting star to help keep things stealthy... that and they where coming in during the day so what little light it did make would be harder to see.

"By Khraawls Halberd... Deccen... We are getting in close because it will send a message to those heathen Arcturians." replied Casik as he did the same seat settling.

"And what message would that be?" remarked Deccen as he checked the installed cylinder of his dual cylindered revolver.

Casik sneared under his helmet as he responded.

"That we don't take kindly to those who think they can just attack us and defile the name of Khraawl. They hate us and we hate them... its that simple."

Deccen shrugged to himself as he was not as religious as Casik was, but the plan would send a message if it was successful. Deccen was also a realist and knew that killing the Dominar would only make relations with Arcturus go from cold to shoot on sight. Not that he minded really. He loved killing, but this was likely to start a war between the horde fleet and the Arcturian people.

"Keep your wits about you! we're entering the atmosphere!" yelled Casik as right about then the pod shook violently for about a minute before leveling off.

The view screens kicked on soon after and gave a full view of the resort in question from the sky above. It was then Casik knew the pod was landing to closely and they would need to act fast.

"Deccen! Once we land set a charge on the pod and set it to blow in 2 hours! "

Deccen tried to respond but was cut short by the sudden thud of the pod making contact with the ground below. The doors on the pod blew off with a great muffled boom, sending them in opposite directions. Deccans door found its way into a tree trunk while Casik's was nearby on the dirt. Casik took the door from the ground and ripped a few black wires from the pod and strapped it to his back. Deccen walked stepped out and set a plasma charge inside the pod and set the timer for the maximum of two hours then pulled the pin letting the timer count down.

With final checks the two operators moved out to get some distance between them and the pod before that charge went off making a sizable crater in the soil. With luck it would attract any rovering patrols in the area to investigate giving them a window to move about with some freedom. With a quick job the two operators where agood few miles from the pod when it went up sending a loud, deep BOOM revirberating throughout the forest letting a large plum of smoke and dust rise high into the air. They didn't look back to see; they knew what a plum looked like. Taking the chance to rest for a second they made a small camp in some heavy brush. Deccen kept watch as Casik set up a leanto tent then setting a plasma charge on the trail they had made, setting it to proximity detonation. A cheap and hasty Landmine that didn't have to by underground.

Casik had finished his tent and was sitting inside of it looking over area scans inside his hemet on its display. From their position they where a mere 5 KM from the targets cottage. This made Casik nervous. Being that close they where bound to come into contact with perimeter security.

Casik... Why not just go and kill him now?" asked Deccen as he joined his teammate at the tent.

Casik just looked over to him and then away without responding. Deccen didn't care. All he wanted to do was kill the target and get back to the fleet.

"Fine... don't answer me"

As the hours passed, Casik had decided to take a nap getting as much rest as he could. Deccen however was not as wise and he taken to exploring the trail with a little more detail... an action that would prove a terrible mistake.While patrolling the woods he happened upon a group of soldiers who seemed to be searching for who came in the pod that was now a crater further in the woods. Switching over to radio comms, Deccen called over to Casik.

"Casik! I have 2 Soldiers at about 25 Meters... I'm taking them down! I will kill our target on a full belly."

Casik shot up quickly to respond but was to late as he hear 4 shots ring out. Pulling up his tracker system he found Deccens signal and ran for him as quickly as possible. When he got close he could here the constant fire of an energy weapon discharging and then a shot or two of the revolver most commonly used by the Ventorie Operators. Following the sounds of the gunfire he arrived in time to see Deccen kill one of the security guards by sending a tungston round through the mans head sending brain matter against a tree. Casik made his way around and flanked the remaining guard taking the fallen guards weapon and placing three shots into the guards chest letting it sizzle and burn the flesh.

Casik Growled softly to himself, party becasue of the thrill of the kill and partly due to his frustration with Deccen.

"You fool! It was not their blood I wished to offer Khraawl tonight! What were you thinking?"

Deccen snarled and reported.

"What do it matter? They are dead and we live! Khraawl is pleased!"

It was at this time a burst of plasma rounds struck Deccen in the chest sending him down to the ground in blinding pain and multiple suit ruptures. Casik turned quickly and returned fire killing two other guards who must of been trying to flank their position. The plasma bolt struck his chest plate and started to burn away his armor. Thinking quickly he fell to the ground and rubbed his chest into the wet soil stopping the burn off.

As he turned over he was relived to see that only a layer or two had burned away and no ruptures. Deccen was not as lucky. Casik moved closer to inspect the damage closer. When he got close he could smell the scent of burnt Ventorie flesh and the distinct hiss of a suit rupture. Deccen was starting to panick and reached towards Casik for help but found none.

"You are a fool and thus shall die a fool death." commented Casik as he turned to walk away. Deccen in his paniced state took hold of his weapon and fired a round at Casiks back, only to have the round bounce off the pod door he had strapped to it. Casik turn about and returned to Deccen and pulled out his Uranium blade knife and delivered it into Deccens face plate letting it settle in the back of his skull. The blades natural heat began to boil Deccens mangled brain as Casik left it in before taking Deccens revolver and shouldering the plasma rifle.

"Now Khraawl is pleased..."

With his final words Casik moved towards the cottage where he was expecting resistance to be highest. As he neared the target location a few bolts of plasma raced past him then one stuck his leg on a glancing blow. The sudden strike and blinding pain was over as quickly as it began as the plasma dissapated before being able to stick. Casik returned fire quickly sending 6 rounds into as guards chest, ripping it open.

Casik ran as fast as he could finding cover near a large rock where he took the rifle he found and delivered return fire.

The exchange was short lived however as the last of the two took a bolt to the face and dropped quickly. Casik rubbed his leg as the pain was starting to dull away.

"Damned plasma bolts..."

Checking the area he cleared his path and took off running as fast as his wounded leg would carry him. It only took about 10 minutes of running before he found himself at the cottage's front lawn where all seemed to be quite. Casik was about to move out when he pondered a better solution. Reaching back he took out one of the plasma charges and one of his shape charges and wrapped them togther before setting the timer to 30 seconds. He placed the charge set near his front so he could grab it quickly when the time came. With his plan in motion he pulled the pin and took off running for the Cottage.

[Arcerion]

"Open fire!" yelled Blackford, as he himself began firing short bursts at the hulking alien on the front lawn. The beast shuddered, and then screamed, attempting to fire back. But both Delta and Bravo teams were pouring rounds into it, and all the men were hitting targets like this was the shooting range back at the Academy. Blackford himself aimed for the legs, and watched as the creature was brought to its knees, and then stopped moving, slumped over. They continued to move in, a trooper occasionally firing a round into the corpse as they paced closer. Blackford was the first to come close, and he saw the alien's seared and destroyed armour, and then some sort of reading, a digitized clock of some sort that had glyphs moving. "Suicide vest! Move, move, move!" yelled a trooper, and men went running in all directions.

---

Blackford woke up in the infirmary, seeing his body covered in catheters and tubes that carried some fluids in, and others out. He tried to move, but a young trooper in half-dress held him down, running a hand over his hair. "Sir, you're alright. Bit of shrapnel tore up your insides. Doctor said you'll be good to walk next week." Blackford laid his head down, and found that under his left hand were some writing materials. What happened to the men?

"2-Alpha is dead sir. All of them. They were on a perimeter patrol and were ambushed. 3-Alpha Has two wounded, one needs some extensive facial reconstruction surgery, another has major lacerations along his chest, but not too life threatening. Both expected to make a full recovery. Remarkably, sir, only you and two others were wounded by the blast."

The ambassadors?

"Safe sir. Both were kept in the barracks, and now have been transferred to their wn suites within the resort complex itself, instead of the private cottages."

Butcher's bill?

"Four KIA, five wounded, for two enemy KIA."

How did they get into the atmosphere?

"Don't know sir. Some intelligence types from the 7th Directorate are here to investigate that."

The Summit still going to be held?

"Yes, sir. Petty Officer 2nd Class Scofield has taken over command of the field teams until your return." Blackford nodded, and then laid his head back down. He smiled slowly, knowing he had done his job. He imagined the vacation his outfit would get after this, and was thoroughly excited to frequent some of Titus' beaches in a month's time.

[Voldoviana]

The ship came out of FTL, the universe rearranging itself around the ship's exit. The Type 31 Diplomatic Craft the Turn of Fate slowed down to relativistic speeds, overlooking the planet. The ship fired its boosters, beginning to approach the specified meeting zone. He aft thrusters fired as it lowered towards the atmosphere.

Ambassador Cluxis nodded as the news came to him, and began to freshen up. They'd be landing soon, so he needed to look his best for a supposed conference of trading nations in the galaxy. News that others had survived had just come in, and from two separate sources at once, so things were getting a little hectic back on Val'ha and the Stations. It was good, he thought, for him to get out for a little bit.

He stepped outside of the bathroom, to be greeted by one of the twelve soldiers accompanying him on this trip. "Sir, we're on approach, the site is in chaos, someone was attacked, according to comms." he said, saluting. Cluxis swore, running towards the bridge. Sure enough, the site's security was heighted to the max.

"Take us in per normal, but grab the full railguns instead of your sidearms." he said, pointing to the Sergeant of the group. The man nodded as the shuttle lowered towards the landing pad.

[Arcerion]

The ship landed, and the disembarking platform was lowered. Petty Officer 2nd Class Mel Scofield was waiting in half-dress, with his armoured pants on and a light combat vest, as the security protocols came into effect whilst he was going for a swim in the lake and he hadn't had any time to grab his upper body armour. He adjusted his field cap, and saluted smartly as the security for the next ambassador clattered down. Strange, they brought long rifles. Scofield had his three team members, and on top of that nearby another team waited to attend to any baggage. Most thought it strange, but really the men used scanners to detect anything incriminating or explosive inside, to ensure the safety of the ambassadors. "Gentlemen, my name is Petty Officer 2nd Class Scofield, acting commander of security here at the Trade Summit. My apologies, we had an attack on one of our ambassadors though the assailants have been terminated and the talks have not been postponed, although clearly security is even higher now. I assure you of your safety, and request that you follow me to your private suites. Ambassador Sladek gives his apologies for not being here, but he is on a call with the Board of Directors, assuring them the Summit will continue." Scofield concluded the short monologue and gestured towards the resort, his men slinging their rifles and moving up the ramp.

---

They settled the ambassador into the luxurious quarters, and showed the security he brought their rooms next door, where cots had been rolled in, and an adjoining door opened between the rooms. Scofield posted a full team in the hallway's entrance, and another two pais of guards on roving patrol on the Ambassador's floor. He returned to the control centre, checking the status on an additional security detachment that was en route, and nodded solemnly when he heard of their delay. God damned spaceport traffic is going to cost me more men if we get attacked again he thought, and turned on his heel to go out on a patrol of the sports courts with his personal team.

[Razhtigr]

Within a small sphere located somewhere in deep space a single point of energy sits watching flocks of scaled avians wheeling, turning, and diving around the artificial sun that lit the small aviary and provided the warmth necessary to keep them alive, energy to grow the food they lived on, and light to maintain their natural cycle of rest and activity. Monitoring his leafy,'stump like console, a all bud blooms into an orange and purple blossom. Reaching out to the blossom, he receives the following transmission from the passive communications monitoring systems.

To All nations Within the Range of Sector L8,

The Interstellar Conglomerate of Arcerion cordially invites you to a trade summit, hosted on the moon of Titus IV, a moon around Auranis II, our company's headquarters. This trade summit is aimed at creating an interstellar trading union, forged in commerce, and hopefully without blood. Ambassadors are invited for a length of several weeks, at their leisure, as negotiations are expected to take some time. We expect that your ambassadors shall arrive on the moon of Titus within days of this transmission, as we must conduct our business soon. Security will be provided by veterans of recent conflicts on leave, all men tested in combat so your envoys shall eb safe.

We look forward to conducting our business, and to future endeavours with your Empires.

Sincerely,

Chief of the 1st Trade Directorate,

-Kennith Sladek

Hearing the message, at first he is a bit taken aback. He'd only heard sporadic communications since his people's withdrawal from society with the dawning of the great war more than 5,000 years previous. And now, a trade conference, more so it seemed several nations would be in attendance. This was a truly shocking possibility to the ancient keeper who had spent eons alone tending to his small reptilian aviators since his finding of them on a planet who sun was expanding and eventually consumed it. However, the keeper had managed to save one biome's genetic sequence and recreated the environment in space a safe distance from the rogue star before bringing them aboard.

Now though, he busily adjusted the power levels on his extra-spacial transmitter and sent the message onward to Yggdrasil and the king's court.

Upon receiving the message the king's first thought is of Malikas, his seer who had not been heard from since leaving. He hoped the message was a communication from her. Disappointed at first, he soon brightened as he knew this opportunity would be another chance to hopefully prevent another great war from once again ravaging life in the galaxy.

"Bring forth our diplomat, send them to this conference. Let us bring peace and cooperation, let us heal this wounded galaxy. We must send our best, this mission is too important to fail. With Malikas gone as well, her help would have been invaluable. Still, we will send Soin. They have assisted the keeper of the count and Malikas for many cycles. I believe them best suited to this task. Prepare a personal tree, he must depart at once."

The journey to the conference is a simple matter, yet the great distance involved makes the journey a long one even at 10x FTL. After many days Soin emerges from FTL on the outer edges of the moon's orbit. As his small 20m tree, an amalgamation of light, energized gasses, and plant matter slowly takes form as space time normalizes around him he opens a comms channel.

"Greetings Control Station, I am Soin of the kami sent by His Royal Highness The King and Highkeeper razhtigr in response to your communications indicating peaceful interaction and favorable trade. I seek your clearance for atmospheric entry and planetary landing. I await your coordinates. "

[Canuckland]

The New Canuckland government had received the message and pondered it for a a while. While there were two current ongoing contact issues going on in two different area's, would being involved in another be wise? It seems so, seeing as this was an invitation and it was a summit for trading, opening New Canuckland and her people to the Galactic Market.

A diplomatic shuttle was placed on a Midlothian Class Destroyer, escorted by a Destard AA Frigate and a Paris Class Frigate. They left the atmosphere of New Canuckland, directing themselves to were this message was sent. Passing the debris and the massive orbital stations, they readjusted themselves and disappeared into FTL warp.



The Megalodon Heavy Shuttle

The ambassador was named Dane Fordlah. He was a scrawny guy, blonde hair and blue eyes. But he knew how to handle himself. Even so, a guard of Standard and Enlightened Cyborgs was sent on this mission. Little did he know, two Enlightened Commando Cyborgs went along, in case anything went off for the New Canucks in this little, diplomatic meeting.

[Caecuser]

(1) LSV Dubious Profits (ship, neutral) + (1) LCU Knock Knock (ship, defensive) + (1) Gu Leger (drone, neutral)

---

The LSV was a small one going by the comparison of its brethren LSV's but it utterly dwarfed the Contact ship piggybacking inside of one of its Medium Bays; the LCU was shaped like a chrome disk, silvered with blinking lights around its sharp and lethal looking blade-like circumference. Roughly five hundred meters in diameter and a tenth of that at its deepest point, it had all the look of a compact and purpose-built killing machine on a grandiose scale. By comparison the LSV was a juggernaut spherical shape, three kilometers in diameter consisting of metal composites, diamond film and projected hardfields that glimmered with an internal iridescence. It's controlling AI had traveled specifically here, to the Interstellar Conglomerate of Arcerion partially as a personal interest, partially to appear as a representative and also partially to carry the Drone truly going to take part in the proceedings while the Dubious Profits would watch.

+++ We have finally arrived then? +++ Leger asked as realspace began its usual manifestation around them and the crystal-clear realm of hyperspace gave way to the mundane realities now surrounding it.

+++ Obviously. +++

Emerging at a leisurely pace, the enormous Omnocracy vessel signaled ahead with a simple binary acknowledgement to the awaiting Arcerion.

[Arcerion]

The final ships had arrived, and delegates seated. The delegates from Omnocracy., the Argonians, Arcturus, Voldoviana, Razhtigr, and Canuckland had all assembled. The great oaken hall they sat in had a few security officers wandering the edges, and several posted at the door, but other than the minor security detail it was just the ambassadors and their deputies. Kenneth Sladek stood, placing a hand on his abdomen as he held his formal attire in check a simple black robe trimmed with silver. "Gentlemen, I invited you here today to forge a trade agreement that will give us all incredible powerful economies. I will be short, as time is money." Sladek grinned at the joke, and saw several of the ambassadors chuckle and enjoy the small jest. "The Interstellar Conglomerate of Arcerion proposes the founding of a trade agreement, to be known as the First Galactic Finance Accord. This agreement, should it be ratified by some of you here today, guarantees a growth of your economies by three percent bi-annually, that is a total of six percent." Sladek brought up holographic representations that many interns had slaved over, showing the projections for each individual empire. "This may come as a shock, as the numbers are high. But these will exist for ten years. At which time, if you are not satisfied with the accord, you may opt out and not re-ratify when the time comes. And Gentlemen, without further ado, the First Galactic Finance Accord." Sladek finished, and young employees and assistants lay before each ambassador a copy of the accord in their own language, with the large, full-sized treaty being displayed at the front of the room.

The Interstellar Conglomerate of Arcerion ensures that by receiving 5% of quarterly earnings of the respective treasuries of the undersigned nations, that it will provide resources, financing, and aid when called upon. As well, the Central Bank of the Interstellar Conglomerate ensures the following:

First Galactic Finance Accord

I. All nations undersigned will contribute 5% of quarterly earnings to the Interstellar Conglomerate of Arcerion for a period of ten years, of which the Conglomerate will invest, and create a fund to provide resources and material to be bought at reduced rates at future transactions

i. Funds given to the Conglomerate will be invested in mining expeditions, facilities, and processing equipment to increase resource production, as such resources will be traded to undersigned nations (See Section IV)

ii. In addition to investing in Conglomerate-held assets, funds will be distributed equally amongst undersigned members to facilitate financial and commercial cooperation.

II. The Conglomerate will waive all tariffs for ships in ports when that ship is chartered in a nation undersigned

III. All nations of the First Galactic Finance Accord hereby agree to not engage in aggressive actions, or military action against the Conglomerate during the term of the Accord, or risk ejection from the agreement

i. This applies to all members, should any engage in conflict with each other they are at risk of ejection from the Accord

IV. The resources mined under new systems and current systems will be sold at rates reduced by half to other nations undersigned, and favourable treatment in contract negotiation will be given

i. This favourable consideration does not apply to military contracts or agreements

V. Weapons, munitions, and military equipment and vessels will be sold at a rate reduced by one quarter, and sold to nations of the undersigned regardless of trade embargoes

VI. All nations have a singular vote, to be used at quarterly meetings to discuss businesses and finances, as well as amendments to the Accord

VI. The Conglomerate agrees to buy bonds and give loands to the undersigned in order to return investments and create economic stimulus in addition to commercial increases.

"Gentlemen, please read this accord carefully, and I aait your response," Sladek said as he sat down. This will change this universe, making everyone wealthier, and the resources we ship to them will allow for the construction of more business. The trade magnate smiled, knowing that nations that signed would soon see a significant uptick in their economies.

[Razhtigr]

Reading the treaty carefully, Soin could immediately tell this meeting was going to be much different than he had imagined. However, there is always a fair deal to be made he'd been taught. So, standing he closed the treaty folder. His photonic form that of a slight humanoid, clothed in leaves and translucent.

"Sir, your treaty is... Interesting. But, you assume we operate on a currency based economy. We've not used currency for over 500 million years, and we've no interest in revivng such an arcane practice now. However, in the spirit of cooperation, I am authorised to disclose to you a list of services we may provide as "product" I believe is the appropriate term. In exchange, we will be waved of any monetary obligations. Consider it bartering, I believe we can work out an agreement that is pleasing to all."

Looking around at each ambassador he continued "Our technolgies have little war use. However, we can create plants which can grow in any climate, medicines to cure tens of thousands of diseases, terraforming of planets, we even possess the ability to create new stars, and alter existing ones. These however require tremendous resources, and are not often undertaken.

Most useful perhaps, we can offer insight into your FTL and communications systems, perhaps increasing their function and the quality of communication within this treaty organisation. These things we offer do not come cheaply however, any deal struck must be fair and must limit the destruction necessary to achieve its goals."

Bowing slightly he finished with "I await your inout esteemed deletates, honored host." And then he was seated.

[Canuckland]

Dane Fordlah looked at the document carefully. He read it over very carefully until another ambassador stood up and spoke out. Though New Canuckland used rocks for currency, something could be arranged. He stood up after the other ambassador sat down. He took a deep breath and looked down at the document. He sighed and looked up at their host.

"While, like our friend here, New Canuckland doesn't use a real currency, I am going to sign this document on behalf of New Canuckland. I hope our rocks, or, Minerals are accepted currency with our friends here." He shrugged slightly and took a deep breath.

"However, if we are to break this contract, then we are prepared to fulfil any projected 'damage' done to stay on track of the contract, seeing as this can benefit the growing New Canuckland."

He sat down and picked up a pen, started writing and looked back up after he was finished.

[Caecuser]

Gu Leger (drone, neutral)

---

Leger's chassis was featured like a silvered skeleton, bare limbs and highly reflective surfaces that were exaggerated slightly, the skeleton was in the shape of pan-humanity and of average height with empty black sockets and with some of the mechanical bones not even directly connected by joints seeming to be held in place by invisible wires. It quickly reviewed the First Galactic Finance Accord and passed on copies directly to the LCU and LSV in orbit so that they in turn could pass it into the stream of information being broadcasted away on a narrow-beam hyperspace communications device.

+++ Section III - do something about it. +++ The whispered voice of the LCU Knock Knock commanded.

+++ Why, you planning on warring with someone soon? +++ Leger inquired back but no answer came.

It turned it's grinning skull-face smoothly to Kenneth Sladek and spoke softly in an already translated voice; "I would like to point out that certain exceptions for circumstances must be made concerning Section III of this document."

[Razhtigr]

With the Canuck ambassador's immediate capitulation, and the machine's objection of the peace clause, Soin spoke up immediately as mechanical ambassador finished.

"While agreeing in theory with your position, we the kami must insist that some form of arbitration or mediation be fully exhausted before such force ever be considered. As such, we propose that article three be amended to institute a neutral court so that members may address disputes without the need of arms in order to foster civilized relations and rid ourselves of needless barbarism."

[Arcturus IV]

Rhys stood and addressed Sladek as Soin finished speaking. "Much like this esteemed ambassador," here he motioned to the photonic 'humanoid', "my people do not use currency in the traditional sense. Instead, we use computer processing time. The Dominion of Arcturus is in possession of several massive computer banks and server farms, and is willing to offer their services in lieu of currency. If this is unacceptable, we also have access to copious amounts of metals, gases, and other natural resources that can be bartered in exchange, as well as a credit system that functions as a base unit of worth equivalent to a standardised amount of processing time or storage space and is held as a proof of debt, redeemable at the possessor's convenience. If this is acceptable, we only have one other issue to address."

The dominar drew himself to his full height and looked over the group present slowly. "I second Soin's proposal, with the added provision that, if no mutual agreement can be reached between disputing members, any actions necessary to uphold the peace and stability of the parties involved, and their planetary governments, be accepted as non-violating of the trade agreement. A people's safekeeping and wellbeing must be of the utmost importance, and an amendment reflecting the propriety of such actions as are designed to do just that and no more would be fair and just." Having said this, he took his seat once more.

[Wandering Argonians]

The Argonian portion of the assembled delegation had been rather quiet, Shakesh Quickclaw seated with what was clearly a scowl across his ancient features, arms crossed into the folds of his deep blue robe. He'd not even read the proposal, instead he'd simply shuffled it over to Quickclaw, as per their timeless agreement. Behind the pair of them stood two of the Longtail House Guards, resplendent in their full dress uniform once again, eyes locked to the front and trying rather hard not to stare at what was apparently a self-animate metallic skeleton representing another of the galactic civilizations...

"While I share the concerns of the other esteemed delegates, the Argonian Empire maintains large stockpiles of precious metals, commodities, and other such items of value we are willing to offer in lieu of currency to those who do not have a tangible monetary system. I also offer the option of tailoring specific exchanges to our various trade partners, depending on their specific needs. For those with a currency of their own, an exchange rate can be established..."

The topic of conflict hadn't crossed his mind. He agreed that trade partners shouldn't war with one another, but he didn't care about the specifics. The Argonian war machine was mighty, and he personally had enough wealth in his House to fund several regiments of troops should the need arise. Shakesh would work the forge regardless of the fluctuations of galactic politics, such was his desire and his way. There was always a war to fight, and the Forgemaster would continue to spend his days making weapons worthy of the warriors who fought them...

"I personally would approve of a simple non-aggression pact between member civilizations, but the more detailed account the Dominar had proposed sits well enough with me, so long as sovereignty is maintained. One can interpret 'stabilization' in a broad sense, but I am no warrior or general. I am a simple merchant, here to broker a deal..."

His hand motions were placating and non-aggressive, as was his way. The Quickclaw clan had always been about turning a profit, and hostilities always ruined such things. Ammunition and lives where currencies in and of themselves, and spending them was as costly as spending the coin in one's pockets...

[Razhtigr]

Standing again Soin spoke "We would be willing to be party to such an agreement, upon the condition that any decision reached by this court is deemed as binding. Any disregard of this courts authority should constitute grounds for dismissal or other sanctions."

Turning to bow to the Argonian he continued. "Esteemed elder, we bring this issue to bare in hopes of achieving such a system. We must make this system flexible, and reviewed at regular intervals to ensure that exchanges reflect availability and costs associated with current conditions.

A system of guarantees seems ripe for abuse and usury. I propose that instead of currency, we use energy as our coin. All things require energy to produce, from extracting ore, to saving data on a machine. We must simply find a cost in energy to produce it and then exchange would be simplified. All we would need do then is agree upon a unit of measurement."

Taking his seat Soin looked around the room. Realizing only now he didn't even know most of the delegates names, much less who or what the represented. This was something he should remedy soon. After this meeting he would make it a point to meet each delegate

[Wandering Argonians]

Quickclaw wasn't quite sure what to make of the 'elder' remark. He was middle-aged for an Argonian, a bit under his first century. The blue-robed individual sitting next to him was quite worthy of such a title, but he was refusing to speak, watching the proceedings with a polite, it detached interest...

"I agree that energy is a commodity required for all things, but how would we transfer it? Store it? Count it? Employ it? Surely it's more practical for those who manufacture goods to simply manufacture their own energy as well? It would certainly be cost-effective. We seem to be at an impasse, of sorts. Our own power supply needs are met for the moment, our forges and factories well-supplied in that regard..."

He hadn't bothered standing, not until there was something to say worth expending the physical effort...

"We do have need of the agricultural boons, star-nurturing, and terra-forming processes our esteemed delegate from the Kami has mentioned. Perhaps we should play to our own strengths? We already have the means to supply our armies, feed our people, and power our factories. We gain little from trading such commodities, aside from a different brand name to slap on our collective shelves. Perhaps a currency of favors that only our respective races can perform?"

[Razhtigr]

Quickclaw wasn't quite sure what to make of the 'elder' remark. He was middle-aged for an Argonian, a bit under his first century. The blue-robed individual sitting next to him was quite worthy of such a title, but he was refusing to speak, watching the proceedings with a polite, it detached interest...

"I agree that energy is a commodity required for all things, but how would we transfer it? Store it? Count it? Employ it? Surely it's more practical for those who manufacture goods to simply manufacture their own energy as well? It would certainly be cost-effective. We seem to be at an impasse, of sorts. Our own power supply needs are met for the moment, our forges and factories well-supplied in that regard..."

He hadn't bothered standing, not until there was something to say worth expending the physical effort...

"We do have need of the agricultural boons, star-nurturing, and terra-forming processes our esteemed delegate from the Kami has mentioned. Perhaps we should play to our own strengths? We already have the means to supply our armies, feed our people, and power our factories. We gain little from trading such commodities, aside from a different brand name to slap on our collective shelves. Perhaps a currency of favors that only our respective races can perform?"

As the Argonian ambassador finished speaking Soin gave everyone a moment to consider what had been said. Seeing no one speaking up he began to speak retaining his seat.

"You make my point most eloquently Ambassador. I propose that we agree upon a unit of measurement for energy since it is something that we can all freely produce. As such, all finished goods, or raw materials would be measured by the amount of energy expended in their collection, crafting, or refining. This system would enable us to explain most accurately what is needed to undertake such operations. The mathematics involved are quite... Shall we say, intense. Being able to put these terms into an communally understandable and produceable measurement ensures that all economies are measured equally to avoid quarrelsome exchange agreements and that they are all producing a currency of the same value." Continuing to speak he looked to the Silver skeletoned ambassador.

"I would imagine your collective possesses the data of how much energy is consumed in on of your cycles? Now you would be more accurately be able to produce a sum in terms of trade when proposing deals between ourselves. It is not something that we would store like some races horde shiny metals, it is simply a more accurate means of interpreting projects in their costs in a simplified and consistent manner. I understand the need for currency to offset debts to your supply systems. And as such we will be able to develop a system free of inflation. We must keep in mind, this currency we discuss is not a currency to be used in everday transactions, this is the currency of galactic trade and used to convey vast sums. While it is well within our possibility, do you sir possess the technology to weigh a star to the gram? How would we accurately assess such a cost in terms of exoctic metals and other items?" Pausing to allow his words to resonate with the other delegates he continued once more pressing their silence.

"We are not opposed to the idea of a mutual currency in another form, we are able to form matter into most any element with east. This however seems the simplest. The Argonian solution could work as well, though the idea of political IOU's doesn't sit well with me. I intend no offense sir, but we know little of your people. Any of your people." he said indicating around the room. "How are we to know you will honor your word when the time comes call in said favors?"

[Wandering Argonians]

Samus Quickclaw was impressed with the eloquence displayed by the Kami ambassador, and agreed with many of the points made. Still, he was a merchant first and foremost. He brokered deals as small as single blades, master-works from Shakesh's forge; to entire tank divisions and fleets of warp-capable vessels. He saw great potential for an energy-based currency used between governments, and even better, free of inflation...

"I agree, Ambassador, I agree. However, I worry about those races among us for whom energy is a life-blood being able to 'flood the market', so to speak. I simply seek to put all races on equal footing in terms of wealth, so that those who produce energy freely from harnessing the power of the very stars cannot gain superiority over those who produce it by more conventional means. I do adore the concept of zero inflation, however. A man of my profession lives and dies by profit margins, I simply do not wish to be over-charged and under-sold, as it were. In terms of political favors, I..."

The grizzled old Forge-Master finally spoke up in his harsh tone, interrupting the rambling merchant in the process...

"It is not a question of honor, Ambassador. House Longtail pledges that any agreements forged with our people will be honored in full. I've made this pompous fool more coin than he has any right to speak of, whether he will admit to that fact or not. Argonians value honor above all else, and be they paid in blood or coin, our debts will be repaid in full. I pledge again, personally, on the blood of my sons and grandsons. You have but to dictate the terms of repayment..."

As he finished speaking, the ancient Argonian grabbed Samus by the back of his elaborate tunic and yanked him back down in his chair with little ceremony. The old man tired of the prattling and debate, and most of all he tired of Samus Quickclaw babbling about things he had no business meddling in...

"The Blood-Oath of a Forgemaster of my ancient House may not mean much to you, Ambassador, but it carries as much weight as a decree from His Royal Majesty himself. Forward the specifics of this energy-currency to my aide, if none of the others have any objections. It seems to be the most viable solution thus far..."

He had no idea how well that would sit with such an alien society, or even the gathered representatives. Frankly, he didn't care. His forge sat idle, and idle time was time truly wasted...

[Arcturus IV]

The dominar stood quietly once more as the elder of the Argonians sat, forcibly pulling the younger with him. "I can appreciate a blood-oath," he said solemnly, his cybernetic eye gazing intensely at the Forge-Master, "and while I cannot give voice to my subjects' personal opinions, I can guarantee that my word is law in the Dominion, and that if I say something will be done, it will. Even if it breaks the back of every Arcturan. Even if it takes a hundred galactic cycles. Even-" and here his voice took on a somber tone - "if it means giving my life in exchange." He sighed, and it was a tired sigh, an ancient sigh. "I have lived for no small amount of years, and I am quite sure there are those here who see that as but the merest of instants," he glanced at Soin briefly before returning to looking back and forth across the group, "but I have experienced more time than I have lived. More time than I care to admit." And he did not, would not admit, not in specifics. "I have seen and heard much in my time... and one thing I have learned, is that intellectual honesty is a value unto itself. Not a currency worthy of trade and commerce, unfortunately, but more importantly, worthy of pursuit by oneself."

Rhys cleared his throat and straightened his deep black jacket before continuing. "Allow me to express my true intent here. I wish for personal gain. I care not for the benefit of others here, so long as I benefit myself and my people. However, do not think for a moment that I will betray my honour or my word in that pursuit. For the worst betrayal one can commit is a betrayal of their own principles."

Having said this, his gaze returned to Samus Quickclaw. "Young ambassador. I understand your concerns, and would voice them myself. I am certain that some races are less capable of producing energy than others, or equally capable but at a lesser rate or higher cost-per-unit. Perhaps a universal currency could be formulated, with given exchange rates for goods or currency among each constituent race of this trade agreement? Surely that would be acceptable."