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[FT/Closed]A Hierarchy of Needs

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Source Swarm
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[FT/Closed]A Hierarchy of Needs

Postby Source Swarm » Sun Oct 18, 2015 5:54 am

Chowmai System (Swarm Designation γ-12-087d)
Quaternary System of the Collective

Systems further in the backwater than Chowmai existed under Collective control, but not ones that appeared on official registers. Accordingly, Clients holding bureaucratic positions in such systems had the simultaneous habit of being both more pompous and self-effacing than those in higher-order systems or regular "citizen" Clients. A bureaucratic position in a system like Chowmai was a step in the right direction to higher office, it was said, placing you a few categories higher up in the Rankings and giving you some breathing room when it came time to Matchmaking or the Calling. Clients good enough to be ranked 7-A (such as the Chief Controller of a Quaternary System) could take their pick of any of a number of good matches in the Matchmaking sessions and, moreover, were rarely called to return to Source, meaning a long and relatively happy life.

Some, then, like ~/Fulcrum/, the Chief Controller for Chowmai, tended to get stuck in a rut. Fulcrum could not be said to be particularly competitive at anything, save for his diversion of choice - the increasingly-popular game Integral. Still, high scores and competitive standing did little apart from attracting the attention of his superior, who ranked 6-B. Chowmai was a valuable system, containing rather more than baseline quantities of Veridite, which with a little refinement could be turned into the Veridite Matrix Array used for Field Effect manipulation, which powered more technology than anyone in the Collective cared to admit. The 6b, a junior administrator who controlled the "infrabloc" to which Chowmai belonged, was due to arrive in system sometime in the very near future.

Fulcrum, therefore, had fresh determination to increase production. His spot on the leaderboards for his "League" was an aggregate of scores from his various subordinate clients - anyone operating in his system, really. Some considered it sponging, but system Chief Controllers existed for a reason; organized systems worked better. The threat of the arrival of the Infrabloc Deputy Chief Controller or their designate was a few weeks old, now - enough time to see a marked impact in production from Fulcrum's renewed attention.

Veridite stockpiles were increasing. By necessity, mining the mineral produced massive amounts of waste massives - most were truly waste and good for little else besides eventual breakdown into elementary stock, but a few, particularly the many metallics and transuranics, had utility and were retained in metallic form. For that, Fulcrum had ~/Fulcrum/Lever, his progeny ten-years-on-line, a Resource Allocation and Logistics Services Station, who orbited Chowmai II in a geostationary orbital configuration easily accessed from the only spaceport on the backwater world.

In a year or two, Lever would likely start placing on the Leaderboards himself, and probably change his name, as neural pruning kicked in and personality stabilized - what the swarm called Going Rogue.

~/Bael/ was among the finest Material Refining and Reclamation Stations in {Slagrunners}, an upper-bottom-tier Functional Group specializing in exactly the sort of for-hire sub-dwarf-planetoid mining ops that had brought them to Chowmai. Bael came by it honestly - he had for immediate codon-group parents ~/Amethyst/ and ~/Roux/, two excellent stations (though Amethyst had, in a rare move, changed professions), and code-markers from some of their ancestors as well. Bael was good enough at his job that he didn't bother checking his leaderboards often - he was more interested in actual production. Actual production translated into actual profits - both in the Swarm's dedicated currency and in galactic media of exchange - and his projections for his takings less the cut for {Slagrunner} and taxation was pretty good. He'd had a belly full of ore the last week or so as the final chunks of the former dwarf-planet Chowmai VII was fed to him by his swarm of directly-controlled barges, and now he was getting more, frankly, than a little bloated with excess material.

Fortunately, he had a freighter for that, currently connected by hardport and being filled with uranium, tellurium, and iron ingots. His other freighter (he always operated a pair) was inbound from Lever, ready to take on significant volumes of liquified elemental Hydrogen and Oxygen. There were other products from his mining, of course - mostly carbon, sodium, and chlorine by weight - but they could probably all be transferred after this first freighter returned, and the values were not so high.

"I don't get it, Fulcrum," he said, broadcasting in Dialectic, "Finally find a system rich in Veridite and it only exists on one planet and in a few pockets on its moons."
The Aural broadcast of frustration and annoyance hit him before the reply did. "Ask a mining drone. I'm not interested in details."

Bael span his picket of sensor bouys. In spite of his significant production, Bael got short shrift in this system. There were only about a hundred operating Clients in Chowmai - less than even some frontier worlds - and Bael and his auxillaries were the only nullgrav mining team. He and his two subordinates - a prospector swarm named ~/Shoggoth/ and his twin brother ~/Pengu/ who operated a gravity tug - produced more iron, uranium, and essential trace than any of the ground teams, but Fulcrum was only interested in the damn Veridite, because he was only interested in his Internal Trade score, being either too dim-witted or too timid to increase his stock and trade through ForEx manipulation.

Bael was smarter than that, though. Today, he'd sold his load to Fulcrum for scrap value. Bael knew of a Crux ship inbound in the coming weeks. If the Swarm didn't want Iron, Uranium, or Tellurium for anything, well, Bael was willing to bet the Crux were.

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Geanna
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Postby Geanna » Sun Oct 18, 2015 9:09 pm

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''Gefjun''
Approaching Chowmai
Crux Freighter; "Gefjun"


Ardala had her arms crossed, her body resting against the glass as she stared outside. She found it fascinating. All that separated her from the terrifying death of space, was this protective glass around the bridge. Inside the room, it was mostly quiet, the air was nice and cool though, comfortable for the non-Crux operators at least. The Crux freighter had been on this voyage for a little over a few weeks, and were just now on their final approach to the Chowmai system.

Outside, in the bleakness of space, the titanic vessel wasn't anything particularly unique. Admiral Yatta jokingly called them the "floating boxes and the backbone of Crux trade". She wasn't entirely wrong, they were massive vessels, much larger than any Crux military vessel. Large, gigantic rectangular machinations designed to carry everything, and anything the Crux had a taste and lust for.

This one, was an Oleg-Class freighter, not one of the largest, but she could hold her own pretty well. The conglomerates of the Dominion were always competing, it didn't matter in what, the Crux took their idea of free enterprise to the extreme. They would compete even over who simply made the more flashy of colours, and their size-race with their freighters was no different. A Crux freighter became obsolete every few months. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with them; just that the sizes and their capacities grew so constantly, that those still using smaller vessels had to mothball them, or face losing business.

This was the reality of Crux markets, it was a cut-throat competitiveness between Conglomerates, and even these titanic nests of hornets changed and shifted so infrequently. For all of the alleged power the Dominion had, their business practises had no leashes, so long as they remained profitable to the Dominion. There was no amount of shame in the bribery, the espionage, assassinations, and other less than savoury business practises that were conducted between the government and the corporations. The Conglomerates made the Dominion money, and the Dominion provided them the muscle.

Were one to try and weed out the central components of this living and breathing military-industrial complex; there would be only a sense of sheer rot, of putrefaction within the deepest and highest echelons of authority. It was a quantum entanglement so bizarre, and often, grotesquely abhorrent when operating, that you'd sooner cover the window in boards and never peak through it again. As for the victims of such a pyramid of ravenous gluttons, well, that depended on who, really, had it worse. From the slave trade, to the genetic experiments, the devouring of other sentient beings, and the rather methodical, arguably brain-washed and militarized population, it isn't too far of a stretch to be stuck in an ethical quandary.

However, much of the questionable business practises these companies conducted, much of the population wasn't necessarily participants in these acts. Did they benefit from it? Definitely, but the only crime they could be held to, was being left on the sidelines to watch. This wasn't too dissimilar from Ardala's position now. Sure, she was a Sergeant within the Crux's hierarchy, responsible for conducting her orders as ordered, expecting to follow them to the letter, and for what one would ask? It didn't give her a larger pay cheque, really it only benefited those at the very top. In actuality, many, like Ardala, resented the Sagittarium (the governing body) - but there wasn't much to be done about it.

The fattened, grease-ridden peacocks held all the power. They lived in all the luxury, while the rest of the society was stuck and held to their respective rank. The Crux were facing a resource and food crisis, they had been for a millennia. One could only imagine that the fundamentals of a Stratocracy would obviously entail some degree of integrity, or duty, but this wasn't the case. The situation had only gotten worse, especially after the Long War, the Betrican collapse fuelled some of the nationalist fervour within the Dominion, but the cheers and screams for the victory of the Dominion was nothing more than a farce to hide the social starvation. Exhausted, that would be putting it lightly.

It was worse for those deployed. Ardala was one. Those that had their orders to remain, to work the factories and go to work, then home in their small, tightly packed apartments - they didn't see the actual battlefields of that war. When the deployed returned home, such as Ardala, there was the cheering of the crowds as they paraded their cities. Of course the veterans waved in return, but for many, the plaster around their masks had faded. These weren't the faces of glory, congratulating their accomplishments in a 1,500 year conflict that massacred and killed billions across multiple systems. These were the faces of ghosts, phantoms of their former selves.

It can't be described, the very battles Ardala saw in her deployment. Even now, as she rested against the glass - her eyes searched the faint stars in the vast recesses of space. There was this solitary aura about her, as if only a part of her had returned, and the other part was out there somewhere - beyond what she could see. It was most likely buried in the ash and rubble of some far off city, or in the mud of a rainwashed ravine. When she looked at you, you didn't see a person that was whole. Her cool, violet eyes told a story not many would ever experience themselves. The feeling of being lost, of missing a part of your soul.

"Attention Chowmai, this is the Gefjun, Unit Y005314 on approach to your system," the Rullene said over the broadcast. He was an employee of the Arun Conglomerate, the Captain of the vessel. "We'll be arriving here in the next few hours," he added, leaning back in the chair as he brought his feet up on the control panel. He folded all of his arms over his segmented body, and eyed the Sergeant. She was his security escort, though she'd like nothing better than to drive his antennae through his eye-sockets.

"Lookin' pretty there Ardala," he remarked, prompting no response from the Sergeant who still hadn't broken her gaze from the world outside. He rocked in his chair a few times, an elongated grin on his face, though her lack of interest in a conversation drove his attention elsewhere. Particularly to the Sadian female at her module, "And what about you?" he clicked. The Sadian glared at him, a grimace plastered on her face as she turned away. "Aw, come on! You ladies never talk to me! It's not my fault you're a bunch of --" he was abruptly cut-off by Ardala's hand. She had punched the panel, and under her strength the metal had buckled and caved inward, prompting the Rullene to nearly fall out of his chair.

Her eyes were radiantly hot as she leaned closer to the Captain. "We're a bunch of what? Exactly?" she growled, raising her hand to the bug-like creature's face. "I've grown tired of your ogling, and I'd like to do nothing better than stick you in the incinerator and watch your carcass burn and pop like a balloon. Now pipe it, before I commandeer this ship myself, Got it?" she said. The Rullene gulped, she had leaned over so far now that he had to lean the chair backwards. He gently pushed her hand away, "You try being on a ship for weeks on end with little to do!" he reasoned.

Ardala glared more, "Try being on one for years," she said, shoving his hand away from hers as she returned to the window. "The trip's almost over now," she said, "And let's hope, on your life, it remains a quiet ride on the way back," she beamed at him. He withdrew his feet from the panel, and turned more to the screens now, mumbling under his breath as he slumped and idly stared at the data. Now they just needed to wait for a reply.
Last edited by Geanna on Sun Oct 18, 2015 9:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.
LOVEWHOYOUARE~


"We dance on the lines of our destruction and continuation, to waltz and achieve the happiness of our existence, and to be the laughter in a world of silence."

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Postby Source Swarm » Mon Oct 19, 2015 11:48 am

Chowmai System (Swarm Designation γ-12-087d)
Chowmai III L3 Orbital
Systemwide Aerospace Controller ~/Oberon/

Going by area occupied over displacement, one could make the claim that Oberon was the largest artificial structure in the system. His Oort Picket of communications and sensing satellites marked the outer bound of his figure, picketing out an internal cloud of in-system nodes and point-effect bouys. He was, in effect, the same size as the system, and his reponsibility was simple - control the flow of traffic (both natural and artificial) in the system.
Attention Chowmai, this is the Gefjun, Unit Y005314 on approach to your system. We'll be arriving here in the next few hours.

Oberon sent off a brief acknowledgement pulse - little more than a receipt, a burst of code indicating he'd received the message. Y0053145 indexed directly to Gefjun, so at least that part was correct. A few short requests to various galactic authorities produced a confirmation. The ship had a neutral-to-positive reception value in the Swarm's own Foreign Shipping Database. Everything was in good condition.

A burst of static - the equivalent of clearing his throat - before the young controller transmitted back. "Gejun, Chowmai Control receives. Please transmit existing cargo manifest, last port of call, port of call in Chowmai, and final destination for registration and routing purposes."

Switching back over into the bands used for the Swarm's internal communications, he kicked the Aura into a state of exitement - the equivelent to clapping ones hands and rolling up one's sleeves. <Tradeship inbound. Who's expecting it?>
<That's me,> Lever replied. <Hey, Bael, get your freighter off of me.>
<Tell you what, asshole, unload it faster and we can get moving...>

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Geanna
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Postby Geanna » Tue Oct 27, 2015 7:38 am

Image
''Friendly Guests''
Approaching Chowmai
Crux Freighter; "Gefjun"


The Gefjun received the transmission, everything seemed to be in order now. They had slowed down to wait for the confirmation, and now the massive freighter began to re-enter supercruise. "And there we go," the Rullene said now, transmitting the necessary data back as he leaned into his chair. The bridge had fallen exceptionally quiet, after their little disagreement, at least that was how the Rullene saw it as - he eyed Ardala for a moment. She noticed naturally, though she didn't humour him a glance back, her lips formed a long and thin line across her face.

To her, this deployment was somewhat humiliating. Yet, she needed the credits and it was the only one available at the time. She folded her arms and relaxed into the glass, her eyes still staring out into the void. The Rullene finally conceded, deciding it best not to make another remark, after all - he couldn't tell if she was serious or not. The chair creaked a he stood and stretched, looking out over the bridge before heading towards the door in the back of the room, and disappearing into the doorway.

Ardala's body relaxed even more once he left. She sighed, staring down at the floor. It was made of large metal panels, fastened together with what looked like bolts. They were surprisingly dull, however, for all the flashing lights within the room, they didn't reflect any. Instead, this gave the floor an odd blackened void look, which made walking on it somewhat awkward. A sound on the control station drew Ardala's attention as she leaned off the glass to eye a light turn on. 'Lever' was displayed across one of the holo-screens as the ship began to turn. Apparently where it was heading, they were just a few minutes out now.
LOVEWHOYOUARE~


"We dance on the lines of our destruction and continuation, to waltz and achieve the happiness of our existence, and to be the laughter in a world of silence."

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Source Swarm
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Postby Source Swarm » Tue Oct 27, 2015 10:07 am

Chowmai System (Swarm Designation γ-12-087d)
Chowmai II Geostationary (49°)
Transorbital Material Transfer Station ~/Fulcrum/Lever

"Loading complete. I have your minerals aboard, you have your hydrogen remass. Get the hell outta my space."

Bael deliberately rolled slowly off of his docking port, and quite deliberately blackened a spot on Lever's hull as he pulled the shuttle away from the station. "Uh oh. Guess I'm having engine trouble."
Lever was unsubtle in his annoyance. "There is nothing wrong with your shuttle, you pompous little freewheeling-"
"Priority," Oberon barked into their channel, politely telling them to can it. He let the point stand in silence for a moment before continuing. "Lever, transferring orbital control of incoming freighter to you as final destination."
"Uh, right."

Lever adjusted the standing of his various antennas and reflectors. "Gefjun, I'm station Lever, I'll be handling your final approach. Please subordinate docking control. Will you be requiring reaction mass replenishment or beamed power?"


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