SPACE: Redux [IC]

[New Antarcticania]

The Reunification wars have ended,
Yet Corporations still rule the World,
And the World is still infested by The plague of Overpopulation and Famine,
But in the final days of the year 2059,
Humanity shall hurl themselves,
Into a Void where they can correct the mistakes of their past
A Void where Empire will rise into prestige and riches, or crumble into the void that is...
SPACE

Sol system- Earth
23:00:00 UE (United Earth time)
To the Inhabitants of earth, be it the unfortunate, the Infamous, or the Rich- New year's eve will forever mean peace, Peace for the mob leaders that ordered their men to take a holiday, Peace for UN officials Returning home after being issued their Yearly bonus of 25,000 Credits and given a break from the Bureaucratic nightmare that is the United Nations Council, and Peace for the corpaprations, that have exhausted Copious amounts of credits trying to outmaneuver, outplay, and sometimes outgun their opponents for the past 364 days, But the end of the decade meant something special as well. After weeks of Politicans making their way across a mess of Debates and Red tape (and Maybe a couple bribes from the AERODYNE corporation), Authorization for civilians to use the Warp generators Will be Automatically Granted on the first seconds of 2060.

In neo Dublin (Orginally under the flag of the union jack before the Reunification wars), Drunken irishmen and Enlighmen alike gathered at the City square and threw a massive party, the part was so rowdy and out of control, UN Peacekeepers had to be dispatched to control the situation.

In Great Rusivet (Formerly known as St. Petersburg and was under control of communist rebels before the Reunification wars), UN artillery regiments and A local Flash mob surronded the Newly constructed Rusviet spaceport/Shipyard and Decided to play a certian classical music peice from the Times of the Russian Czars, That specifcly needed a couple of heavy howitzers
(https://youtu.be/u2W1Wi2U9sQ)

In New York (The name didnt change because the Original UN headquarters was located In new york), Massive lights displayed a live countdown to the new year, it accidentally blinded a few homeless people, and it attracted more people to a already growing
mob that surronded the limits of the Newark Space port.

In space ports all around the globe, Our faction's fleets are preparing for launch, Many officials of The UN spaceport authority Are Anxiously observing the preparations of the launches (in the safety of their own home, of course), Port Authority Liaisons are Having problems coordinating with Faction leaders and their crews, and Almost everyone, be it from a TV screen at the Local pub, or the Smartpad-wielding teenager at the Annual family gathering is Watching.

How SPACE works

Actions/time
Each RP day (=1 irl day), A faction gets to perform Action(s), Each building, Ground unit, and ship (or fleet) can only perform 1 action per RP day, Days will not pass During combat and/or Dialogue, You do not need to spend a Action to start combat

Movement
If you decide to Spend your fleet(or Ship)'s action on moving said fleet or ship to another space, You will consume 1 unit of fuel per ship, You can only travel 1 Hex adjacent to your fleet or ship Per day

Combat
Will be decided Via Dice roll, it is designed to be brutal and quick-
*On the start of combat, two 12-sided dice will be rolled (both of these dice representing the Commanders from both side's wits and reaction time), this is their inatitive roll, and it will decide which side acts first, for example-

enemy combatant

Initiative roll: 6

Friendlycombatant

Initiative roll: 8


Friendlycombatant gets to Act first

*Firing will Also be decided by two 6-sided die (one representing the Fleet's armor and evasive manuvers, one representing the Fleet's firepower), On top of all of that, For every ship (Excluding fighters) present in the field, A +1 bonus will be added to a fleet's firepower check, And another +1 for the destroyer, and another +1 for the cruiser, so its....

-firgate +1

-Destroyer +2

And so on...

*If the attacking fleet has a high number than the Defending fleet, The Attacking fleet will choose a ship to destroy, But if he selects the dreadnaught, he will need to hit it agian, for the Dreadnaight's armor is too thick for 1 volley, it needs 3.

Combat ends when a combatant decided to retreat, or a combatant's fleet is completely wiped out

Starting resources
*Each faction are granted these resources by the United Nations Space Comission
-10,000 credits
-10 units of fuel
-1 Ready to build Hab unit
-1 Ready to build MFM fabricator
- 25,000 colonists (that also acts as crew members)
*and 1 Colony ship (this is a unique ship that can NOT be replaced)
*4 destroyers
* 1 cruiser

RP rules
*Respect and abide by the NS rules
*Do NOT godmod
*I am the OP, My word is law.
*3 strikes and you're out
*Have fun

By the Dawn of the new decade, The world shall see the greatest thing man has ever achieved since The first walk on the moon, and stare at the stars, wonder what Events will occur in the future, while the Space-faring factions will begin their voyage into the unknown,
Where the line between success and Imminent doom is extremely fine.
And that unknown, as always, is....
SPACE

Current Date (RP)
2060- Week 1, day 6

AERODYNE
To explore new horizons, always!

Frigates- 6,500 credits
Destroyers- 10,500 credits
Cruisers- 15,000 credits
Battlecruisers- 25,000 credits
Dreadnaughts- 30,000 credits

TYPEMAX
New frontiers? Typemax is on it!

Hab unit- 500 credits
MFM fabricator- 700 credits
MFM Processor- 700 credits
Barracks- 1,500 credits
Shipyards- 2,500 credits
R. Station (ground)- 2,500 credits
R. Station (Orbit)- 3,000 credits

[G-Tech Corporation]

High Earth Orbit, Sol System
January 1st, 2060

Andrei stepped aboard the Steersman's command deck with every sign of relish. She was a beautiful vessel, her sleek lines, her cargo modules, even her wipple shields carefully crafted to minimize bulk while remaining both aesthetically and pragmatically pleasing. Her pale white exterior, engineered to dissipate thermal radiation even in passive parameters, had but one insignia - the Flowering Tree of the Corporation. Alongside her four sister ships, she would carry the will to power to the stars, and with her the fervor to reshape mankind which had first lit the sparks at GreenWorld. Far more than merely a business concern now, the company had become the literal incarnation of 'the Power Company'.

For she who controlled man, would ultimately control mankind. And though GreenWorld projected a sweet, almost innocent appearance to the world at large... her ambitions, oh yes, her ambitions were far larger.

Soon the light of two singularities lit Earth's upper atmosphere. Two of his Destroyers, the Dauntless and Warrior, departed on separate missions. He himself put in a call to UN EarthCom. It would take a few hours, perhaps days before they received the probe reports from his outriders. Until then, as the corporate slogans put it so well "GreenWorld's business is the world's business".

"Good morning, EarthCom. GWS Steersman reporting. I have orders from corporate to check with you about resource transport operations. Anything need hauling?"

Elsewhere his second was beginning negotiations with the complex amalgam of suppliers which GreenWorld had cultivated over the years. The budget was still flush for procurements, and no man ever got rich by not investing. He put in orders for another MFM Fabber, an MFM Processor, and a Prefab Research Station. There were strange things out in the stars, and GreenWorld would not be missing out on the biggest payday in human history on account of lacking ambition.

GWS Dauntless jumps for 0303 - 1 Fuel
GWS Warrior jumps for 0205 - 1 Fuel
Steersman and Exarch are looking for work with UN EarthCom
Indomitable is loading goods in low orbit from purchases

Destroyer Dauntless - 200 Crew
Destroyer Warrior - 200 Crew
Destroyer Steersman - 200 Crew
Destroyer Exarch - 200 Crew
Destroyer Indomitable - 200 Crew
10,000 credits
8 units of fuel
1 Hab, 1 Fabber
24000 Crew in Cryo

[New Antarcticania]

High Earth Orbit, Sol System
January 1st, 2060

Andrei stepped aboard the Steersman's command deck with every sign of relish. She was a beautiful vessel, her sleek lines, her cargo modules, even her wipple shields carefully crafted to minimize bulk while remaining both aesthetically and pragmatically pleasing. Her pale white exterior, engineered to dissipate thermal radiation even in passive parameters, had but one insignia - the Flowering Tree of the Corporation. Alongside her four sister ships, she would carry the will to power to the stars, and with her the fervor to reshape mankind which had first lit the sparks at GreenWorld. Far more than merely a business concern now, the company had become the literal incarnation of 'the Power Company'.

For she who controlled man, would ultimately control mankind. And though GreenWorld projected a sweet, almost innocent appearance to the world at large... her ambitions, oh yes, her ambitions were far larger.

Soon the light of two singularities lit Earth's upper atmosphere. Two of his Destroyers, the Dauntless and Warrior, departed on separate missions. He himself put in a call to UN EarthCom. It would take a few hours, perhaps days before they received the probe reports from his outriders. Until then, as the corporate slogans put it so well "GreenWorld's business is the world's business".

"Good morning, EarthCom. GWS Steersman reporting. I have orders from corporate to check with you about resource transport operations. Anything need hauling?"

Elsewhere his second was beginning negotiations with the complex amalgam of suppliers which GreenWorld had cultivated over the years. The budget was still flush for procurements, and no man ever got rich by not investing. He put in orders for another MFM Fabber, an MFM Processor, and a Prefab Research Station. There were strange things out in the stars, and GreenWorld would not be missing out on the biggest payday in human history on account of lacking ambition.

GWS Dauntless jumps for 0303 - 1 Fuel
GWS Warrior jumps for 0205 - 1 Fuel
Steersman and Exarch are looking for work with UN EarthCom
Indomitable is loading goods in low orbit from purchases

Destroyer Dauntless - 200 Crew
Destroyer Warrior - 200 Crew
Destroyer Steersman - 200 Crew
Destroyer Exarch - 200 Crew
Destroyer Indomitable - 200 Crew
10,000 credits
8 units of fuel
1 Hab, 1 Fabber
24000 Crew in Cryo

John Roberts
UN Earthcom

"That's a affirmative, after several mechanical malfunctions on multiple merchant fleets, we now require a contractor to deliver emergency supplies to the prae sanctorium station, said station is currently orbiting Mars.

Earthcom is willing to distribute a reward of 2,000 credits to anyone who volunteers, are you interested?"

[G-Tech Corporation]

Bridge of the Steersman, Earth Orbit

Andrei nodded at the adjutant’s words.

“Confirm EarthComm, we’ve got the spare cycles. Central has us cooling our heels for a bit, so we would be happy to assist the Interstellar Space Agency with supply runs. Transmit coordinates, and we’ll get right on it.”

The Steersman and her sister ships made for the transshipment point on low burn, to start their delivery run.

[New Antarcticania]

John Roberts
UN Earthcom

"Copy that, I am launching a standard cargo pod that is on a course for low earth orbit, transmitting coordinates of package to you now"

[Northern Socialist Council Republics]

"He who obtains sovereignty by the assistance of the nobles [...] finds himself with many around him who consider themselves his equals, and because of this he can neither rule nor manage them to his liking. But he who reaches sovereignty by popular favour finds himself alone, and has none around him, or few, who are not prepared to obey him." - Nicolo Machiavelli, The Prince

---

27 Reconciliation Street, Ranaheim, Earth, Sol System,
01-01-2060

"To a brighter future," Director Savannah Strand cheered, raising her glass of cider. She could certainly afford imported champagne or bordeaux if she desired, of course, but if one was a public figure in the North Sea Society and liked having a head that was still attached to one's body, it wasn't wise to be too obviously fond of foreign luxuries. The other members of the Strategic Committee - her stooges, if she was being honest, although she was too polite to ever say as much - raised their own glasses to greet her own.

On the presentation screen and the central hologram were images and data sent directly from Callisto Spaceport, as spacecraft of the Aerospace Command made their first-ever jumps out of the Solar System. A historic moment for all humanity, and one which the Nessies were eager to be a part of.

Nessies were not stupid. They knew that splendid isolation was not built by ignoring the outside world and remaining blind to the great changes of the era. They all learned the lessons of the Seaban and of Sakoku. No... splendid isolation was built by selectively taking what was useful from others, but refusing to be defined by them. Paradoxically, splendid isolation required an active engagement in global politics, for if the Nessies did not bring politics to the foreigner, then the foreigner would bring politics to the North Sea.

In this new world order, neglecting one's relationship to the United Nations or to the great megacorporations that ruled the world was an easy path to a quick downfall. Director Strand had many voices - charismatic populist, qualified technician, fearsome autocrat, functional apparatchik - and it was the last of these voices that she used as she patched a call to her Public Relations team.

The outside world - well, at least the ignorant public of the outside world; their leaders knew better - knew her as an uninteresting albeit high-ranking Civil Service functionary. If they could recognise her name at all, that was, which wasn't that likely to begin with. After the Viruumaa Crisis, then the Incident of '38, then the Great Reorganisation, and then the Reunification Wars on top of all that, well... these days foreign news agencies probably thought of getting news out of Ranaheim in much the same terms as they thought of squeezing blood out of granite. That suited Savannah just fine.

But in truth, Savannah was a leader. A leader that ruled with an iron fist. The Strategic Committee held little formal power. Offices both elected or appointed and institutions of the North Sea Society often had vaguely defined or overlapping powers and jurisdictions and the Strategic Committee was no exception. But such adhocracy also meant that there was a great deal of power just sitting out there for the most talented, charismatic, or the ruthless to take, and it was Director Strand who bent the will of the North Sea Society to her own. All Nessies from Munster to Finnmark, if they had even a shred of ambition to speak of, dreamed of one day receiving an invitation to 27 Reconciliation Street.

Some, of course, dreamed of being the one to send out those invitations. Savannah had a slight inclination to destroy the careers and ruin the personal lives of people who thought that way, however, so those people tended not to be heard from as much.

"Jonathan," she hailed, when the call was finally patched through.

"Good day, Director," Jonathan responded, his well-kept visage giving her a short nod. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Good day to you too," Savannah responded, returning his pleasantries before moving to her main business of the day. "After today's celebrations the Strategic Committee is quite convinced that the North Sea Society can no longer continue without having our own source of multiversal fabrication material. We just cannot - it is the future. I'd like to ask your office to place a few discreet inquiries with the Typemax Corporation, see if they'd be willing to sell us a few processors."

The Conquest of Space was finally turning a new chapter, and gods forbid the Nessies be left behind!

---

-snip: orders superseded by revision-

[New Antarcticania]

"He who obtains sovereignty by the assistance of the nobles [...] finds himself with many around him who consider themselves his equals, and because of this he can neither rule nor manage them to his liking. But he who reaches sovereignty by popular favour finds himself alone, and has none around him, or few, who are not prepared to obey him." - Nicolo Machiavelli, The Prince

---

27 Reconciliation Street, Ranaheim, Earth, Sol System,
01-01-2060

"To a brighter future," Director Savannah Strand cheered, raising her glass of cider. She could certainly afford imported champagne or bordeaux if she desired, of course, but if one was a public figure in the North Sea Society and liked having a head that was still attached to one's body, it wasn't wise to be too obviously fond of foreign luxuries. The other members of the Strategic Committee - her stooges, if she was being honest, although she was too polite to ever say as much - raised their own glasses to greet her own.

On the presentation screen and the central hologram were images and data sent directly from Callisto Spaceport, as spacecraft of the Aerospace Command made their first-ever jumps out of the Solar System. A historic moment for all humanity, and one which the Nessies were eager to be a part of.

Nessies were not stupid. They knew that splendid isolation was not built by ignoring the outside world and remaining blind to the great changes of the era. They all learned the lessons of the Seaban and of Sakoku. No... splendid isolation was built by selectively taking what was useful from others, but refusing to be defined by them. Paradoxically, splendid isolation required an active engagement in global politics, for if the Nessies did not bring politics to the foreigner, then the foreigner would bring politics to the North Sea.

In this new world order, neglecting one's relationship to the United Nations or to the great megacorporations that ruled the world was an easy path to a quick downfall. Director Strand had many voices - charismatic populist, qualified technician, fearsome autocrat, functional apparatchik - and it was the last of these voices that she used as she patched a call to her Public Relations team.

The outside world - well, at least the ignorant public of the outside world; their leaders knew better - knew her as an uninteresting albeit high-ranking Civil Service functionary. If they could recognise her name at all, that was, which wasn't that likely to begin with. After the Viruumaa Crisis, then the Great Reorganisation, then the Incident of '38, and then the Reunification Wars on top of all that, well... these days foreign news agencies probably thought of getting news out of Ranaheim in much the same terms as they thought of squeezing blood out of granite. That suited Savannah just fine.

But in truth, Savannah was a leader. A leader that ruled with an iron fist. The Strategic Committee held little formal power. Offices both elected or appointed and institutions of the North Sea Society often had vaguely defined or overlapping powers and jurisdictions and the Strategic Committee was no exception. But such adhocracy also meant that there was a great deal of power just sitting out there for the most talented, charismatic, or the ruthless to take, and it was Director Strand who bent the will of the North Sea Society to her own. All Nessies from Munster to Finnmark, if they had even a shred of ambition to speak of, dreamed of one day receiving an invitation to 27 Reconciliation Street.

Some, of course, dreamed of being the one to send out those invitations. Savannah had a slight inclination to destroy the careers and ruin the personal lives of people who thought that way, however, so those people tended not to be heard from as much.

"Jonathan," she hailed, when the call was finally patched through.

"Good day, Director," Jonathan responded, his well-kept visage giving her a short nod. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Good day to you too," Savannah responded, returning his pleasantries before moving to her main business of the day. "After today's celebrations the Strategic Committee is quite convinced that the North Sea Society can no longer continue without having our own source of multiversal fabrication material. We just cannot - it is the future. I'd like to ask your office to place a few discreet inquiries with the Typemax Corporation, see if they'd be willing to sell us a few processors."

The Conquest of Space was finally turning a new chapter, and gods forbid the Nessies be left behind!

---

Orders
Samuel Beckett (1 destroyer) jumps to 0205
Søren Kierkegaard (1 destroyer) jumps to 0303
Alan Turing (1 destroyer) jumps to 0404
C.G. Mannerheim and Karin Boye (2 destroyers) engages in interplanetary trade in Sol
Inquiries are placed for the purchase of MFM processors

Assets
ACS Alan Turing (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - jump to 0404
ACS C.G. Mannerheim (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - Sol
ACS Karin Boye (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - Sol
ACS Samuel Beckett (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - jump to 0205
ACS Søren Kierkegaard (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - jump to 0303
10,000 credits
7 units of fuel (3 spent this turn)
1 undeployed habitation unit
1 undeployed fabricator
24,000 unused crew

TYPEMAX Contact
TYPEMAX Industries

"Of course, sir, We have plenty of MFM processors in stock. These are, of course- approved by the United Nations Deep Space Colonization Comission, and are able to produce 2 Units of MFM Per 1 standard unit of Natural resources inserted into the processor, Each unit has a price tag of 700 credits, would you like to purchase some?

[Ralnis]

Orbit of Pluto, Sol System,
January 1st, 2060

The Kingpin was sitting in his personal room of the Smiling Fortune as the New Years celebration had been shown the sight of the various ships that UN EarthCom had assigned to be the first voyagers of space. He was smoking while hiding on the very edges of the solar system and where the power of the UN's naval power was at it's least. The very systems of the ship and the navy were tapped into the UN Com systems and to keep track of the other factions as they are being sent out across the cluster.

"Kingpin to command bridge, Kingpin to command bridge." The comms went on.

Rolling his eyes, he put his cigar out and got to walking. The interior was still a corporate ship through and through. Sleek and beautiful, sterile in color and chemicals. It had the logo of the Consortium on it's haul exterior, something of a corporate design to throw off suspicion. The very need to bring a more public face outside of their theft was something that they needed in case the UN Navy were to find them. The crew of the Fortune were pirates and former UN Space Navalmen. They all salute to the Kingpin who just made a gesture and they all return to their stations.

Once he sat on a modified captain's chair that was more gaudy with more bright colors that contrast from there sterile colors. He motioned for a crew member to get him some alcohol while his Lieutenant started to give the reports.

"Two companies had sent out their ships already. We have already sent ours out to the nearby clusters, the estimated time would be two weeks in order to get to the clusters. The Hab Unit and MFM Fabricator have been secured in the colony ship. We can still look for work like you requested if you want more fuel reserves for the long distance trips."

"Yes," he said after a sip," see if anyone needs the help of some destroyers. Willing to get in the good graces of the Consortium or are wanting to give enough support for their part in establishing a kelptoracy."

The Ambrosia(destroyer) sent to 303( 1 week)
The Tortuga( destroyer) sent to 404(1 week)
The Amstrum and Clementine are sent to go find criminal missions in the underworld
-10,000 credits
-8 units of fuel
-1 Ready to build Hab unit
-1 Ready to build MFM fabricator
- 25,000 colonists (that also acts as crew members)
*and 1 Colony ship (this is a unique ship that can NOT be replaced)
*4 destroyers( each 250 crew)
* 1 cruiser

[Northern Socialist Council Republics]

"Of course, sir, We have plenty of MFM processors in stock. These are, of course- approved by the United Nations Deep Space Colonization Comission, and are able to produce 2 Units of MFM Per 1 standard unit of Natural resources inserted into the processor, Each unit has a price tag of 700 credits, would you like to purchase some?

---

Ranaheim Spaceport was, in truth, a small affair. Being constrained by the nature of Ranaheim, a floating city built on and around an old oil platform in the middle of the North Sea where real estate was at an exceptional premium, it didn't and indeed couldn't host anything more substantial than the small shuttles that ferried passengers and cargo up to Discovery or Prospector, the Nessies' two space stations in Earth orbit, where they could be picked up by real spacecraft capable of crossing the vast distances of interplanetary spacefaring. It was called a Spaceport more as courtesy than anything else.

There was something poetic, Jonathan Carpenter mused as he watched the waves lap away at the great supporting columns underneath, that the colonists would begin their journey here and not in one of the more substantial spaceports on the British or Scandinavian mainlands. Something about great things arising from humble beginnings.

Ten multiversal processors, straight off the presses of the Typemax Corporation, sat on the platform awaiting a shuttle. Precious cargo indeed, that took most of the liquidity in the Nessies' sovereign wealth to get their hands on. 700 credits per unit was a devil's bargain, and Jonathan could only hope that one day, it would be the Nessies that held a monopoly on something critical and could extort the filthy foreigners for all they were worth. The sheer greed of those bastards at Typemax... well. No use thinking about that now. That invaluable equipment, alongside a multiversal fabricator, a colony habitation module, and two thousand colonists, would board the Niels Bohr at the Discovery and travel onwards to... well, it wasn't decided yet. Whichever was the most promising of the planets that Beckett, Boye, or Kierkegaard discovered.

It wouldn't be the first Nessie extraterrestrial colony, of course, not by far. While the chaos of the Great Reorganisation meant that the Nessies largely missed the Second Wave of Settlement grabbing away at the inner planets and thus, unlike pretty much every other major corporate power on the planet, did not have a presence on either Mercury or Mars, the North Sea Society still had subsidiaries dotted across the lunar surface, across the Asteroid Belt, and in the Outer System. But so far, those didn't amount to much. Travel infrastructure, observation outposts, the occasional fuel refinery, military installations... nothing that could compare to the two thousand colonists and heavy industrial equipment that they were now sending up. Not to mention the distance - vast the expanses between the planets might be, but they had nothing on the even emptier nothingness that separated the stars.

It would be the first true extrasolar colony of the Society. And her first true extraterrestrial city.

The stated reason for this venture was the early exploitation of extrasolar resources. By getting their supplies up in space before the first destinations were announced, it was hoped that the Nessies could get first claim on the richest veins of energy and materials. Three centuries after the steam engine, Earth's inhabited continents were already largely denuded of their once-rich natural resources, and the teeming millions of Nessie society continued to demand that their need for technological wonders be met. Thus, space - where the minerals were plentiful, the energy cheap, and rare chemicals found in abundance.

A nice, clean cover that nobody could publicly question.

That wasn't the whole story, of course. Even on Sol, Venus and Mars still hid much of value, not to mention the moons of the outer planets, so why the eager adventurism beyond the Kuiper Belt? Well - and this the unofficial reason for this early colonial venture - the oversight of the United Nations would weaken very quickly out there. The United Nations, with its grip on terrestrial politics, had a tendency to frown on overt militarisation and forced its oppressive international regulations down the throats of the North Sea Society. But on another star, many parsecs away from the nearest international inspector or blue-helmet peacekeeper, there... there Nessies would be truly free. Its science unchained by petty concerns of ethics or bans on dangerous research (as if any research was "safe"!), its industry unrestrained by silly pollution guidelines or non-proliferation regulations.

There already were public forums up on the North Sea Society's intranet suggesting names for planets they might discover and colonies they might establish. Some outlandish, some ridiculous, but also some that the Society might seriously consider.

As he walked away from the launch platform, to exchange some pleasantries with the crew of the ACS Niels Bohr and wish them the best of luck, Jonathan could almost swear that he could even hear the muffled screams of the "volunteer" test subjects emanating from some of the cargo boxes. Dirty and incompetent foreigners they might be, taken off the poorest and most unstable corners of the Earth, they still had functional throats.

Nonsense, of course - he must have imagined it; they'd never be that sloppy with the cargo soundproofing.

---

Orders
Samuel Beckett (1 destroyer) jumps to 0205
Søren Kierkegaard (1 destroyer) jumps to 0303
Karin Boye (1 destroyer) jumps to 0404
Alan Turing and C.G. Mannerheim (1 cruiser, 1 destroyer) engages in interplanetary trade in Sol
Niels Bohr (colony ship) holds at Sol, collecting equipment from Earth
Purchased 10 processors at 700 credits each

Assets
ACS Niels Bohr (Colony Ship) - 300 Crew - Sol
ACS Alan Turing (Cruiser) - 400 Crew - Sol
ACS C.G. Mannerheim (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - Sol
ACS Karin Boye (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - jump to 0404
ACS Samuel Beckett (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - jump to 0205
ACS Søren Kierkegaard (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - jump to 0303
3,000 credits (7,000 spent this turn)
7 units of fuel (3 spent this turn)
1 undeployed habitation unit
10 undeployed processors (10 purchased this turn)
1 undeployed fabricator
23,500 trained colonists

[New yugoslavaia]

Caelus Aerospace Enterprises HQ, Venus orbit, Solar System.
01/01/2060 (Earth Standard)

Getting to where we are now wasn't easy.
As soon as this corporation was brought forth into the world, I and my fellow directors had to act quick. If we didn't, then we would of ended up just being another bottom-feeder company, doomed to dissolve when our host country finally feel to corporate control. But because we were quick, we not only avoided that fate, but also went on to become one of the biggest companies in Sol. Having copies of the spacecraft blueprints those Aerodyne thieves popularised helped quite a bit. They thought that they were only going to have to share the system with only the UN and civilians. Must of been a shock when we moved in and screwed their plans up.
And unlike Aerodyne, we have an entire planet...or at least the airspace and atmosphere.
At least it's not Mercury. The only thing that ball of molten metal's good for is resources and solar farms. Still not a bad business venture...but profit is not what we're working for in the long run. Far fr-
Just then, my train of thought was derailed by the periodic ringing of the intercom. So, I tapped the answer the button and...
"This is Director Elwin. Who is this?"
"Good afternoon sir. I'm from mission control for Epsilon fleet." the other person replied.
"And what news do you bring?"
"The Charon, Nix and Hydra left for Sector 405. Now only the 2 destroyers and colony ship remain with us here."
"Good to hear. I await updates on the mission. Cancelling call."
"Understood."
And with that, it was back to peace. But there was still something I needed to take care of.
Returning to the intercom, I established a communication link with another part of the company. Moving that many ships was going to eat up quite a bit of fuel.
"This is atmospheric mining Director Conner. Who's calling?"
"This is Director Elwin. I'm putting in a request. We need some more resources. Would be helpful if you could extract something, be it for refining or selling."
"Alright, I can see what we could do."
"Thanks Conner."
"Roger."
Now, everything was ready. Ships were on their way to a part of space hopefully no other party was going to and we had a stable supply of resources. It will be a long journey, but that's what it's always been like for Caelus. And now, our long game will soon pay off.
Succeed or fail, we will try and ensure human freedom lives on, even if it's on another world.

Results:
CES Charon (Cruiser), Nix (Destroyer) and Hydra (Destroyer) jump to 0405.
Destroyers Kerberos and Styx remain in Venus orbit.
Colony ship remains in Venus orbit.
Caelus Enterprises starts to mine resources out of the Venusian atmosphere (300 people).

CES Charon (Cruiser): 250 crew. Jump to 405.
CES Nix (Destroyer): 200 crew. Jump to 405.
CES Hydra (Destroyer): 200 crew. Jump to 405.
CES Kerberos (Destroyer): 200 crew.
CES Styx (Destroyer): 200 crew.
Miners: 300 (3 resources/day)
-10,000 credits
-7 units of fuel
-1 Ready to build Hab unit
-1 Ready to build MFM fabricator
- 23,650 free staff
*1 Colony ship
*4 Destroyers
* 1 Cruiser

[G-Tech Corporation]

Martian Orbit, Sol System
January 1st, 2060

The Steersman and her escort departed the superluminal tunnel just beyond Phobos, near the LaGrange point where Prae Sanctus had been established a generation ago. One of the older and more creaking of Earth's extraterrestrial ventures, she required probably more maintenance than she was worth these days. Certainly when GreenWorld had considered a biological site for monitoring the Martian populace the restrictions on construction had been prohibitive - no knocking out historical bulkheads, no artificial gravity, really just a damper on commercial operations overall.

But hey. If the UN was willing to keep shoveling credits down this rathole, it would be positively uncharitable of the good men of the Corporation not to extend their hands in friendship, providing said palms ended up well-greased. And with the petty corruption and innumerable opportunities which UN 'rule' over Earth presented the everyman willing to don the mask of civility, palm greasing was most certainly the order of the day.

After the destroyers had finished their cooldown routines, the bay of the Steersman opened, and the cargo skiff departed. By the numbers, just as planned, and only a few minutes later the UN payment cleared into the corporate accounts. It was good doing business with reliable people. Out on the rim, things would get more spicy.

But the spice, the jazz, that's where you find the opportunities.

[New Antarcticania]

"Of course, sir, We have plenty of MFM processors in stock. These are, of course- approved by the United Nations Deep Space Colonization Comission, and are able to produce 2 Units of MFM Per 1 standard unit of Natural resources inserted into the processor, Each unit has a price tag of 700 credits, would you like to purchase some?

---

Ranaheim Spaceport was, in truth, a small affair. Being constrained by the nature of Ranaheim, a floating city built on and around an old oil platform in the middle of the North Sea where real estate was at an exceptional premium, it didn't and indeed couldn't host anything more substantial than the small shuttles that ferried passengers and cargo up to Discovery or Prospector, the Nessies' two space stations in Earth orbit, where they could be picked up by real spacecraft capable of crossing the vast distances of interplanetary spacefaring. It was called a Spaceport more as courtesy than anything else.

There was something poetic, Jonathan Carpenter mused as he watched the waves lap away at the great supporting columns underneath, that the colonists would begin their journey here and not in one of the more substantial spaceports on the British or Scandinavian mainlands. Something about great things arising from humble beginnings.

Ten multiversal processors, straight off the presses of the Typemax Corporation, sat on the platform awaiting a shuttle. Precious cargo indeed, that took most of the liquidity in the Nessies' sovereign wealth to get their hands on. 700 credits per unit was a devil's bargain, and Jonathan could only hope that one day, it would be the Nessies that held a monopoly on something critical and could extort the filthy foreigners for all they were worth. The sheer greed of those bastards at Typemax... well. No use thinking about that now. That invaluable equipment, alongside a multiversal fabricator, a colony habitation module, and two thousand colonists, would board the Niels Bohr at the Discovery and travel onwards to one of the Nessie research outposts on Luna to establish a colony there.

It wouldn't be the first Nessie extraterrestrial colony, of course, not by far. While the chaos of the Great Reorganisation meant that the Nessies largely missed the Second Wave of Settlement grabbing away at the inner planets and thus, unlike pretty much every other major corporate power on the planet, did not have a presence on either Mercury or Mars, the North Sea Society still had subsidiaries dotted across the lunar surface, across the Asteroid Belt, and in the Outer System. But so far, those didn't amount to much. Travel infrastructure, observation outposts, the occasional fuel refinery, military installations... nothing that could compare to the two thousand colonists and heavy industrial equipment that they were now sending up towards the moon.

It would be the first true productive colony of the Society. The first true extraterrestrial city.

The stated reason for this venture was the exploitation of lunar energy reserves. Three centuries after the steam engine, Earth's inhabited continents were already largely denuded of their once-rich natural resources, and the teeming millions of Nessie society continued to demand that their need for technological wonders be met. Thus, space - where the minerals were plentiful, the energy cheap, and rare chemicals found in abundance. The mission would sift the lunar regolith for helium-3 and use that to sate the voracious appetites of Nessie industry, spacefaring, and civilian population.

A nice, clean cover that nobody could publicly question.

That wasn't the whole story, of course. Even on Earth, the seabeds still hid much of value, not to mention the polar icecaps, so why so far as the moon? Well - and this the unofficial reason for this early colonial venture - the oversight of the United Nations weakened very quickly once one moved a bit away from Earth. The United Nations, with its grip on terrestrial politics, had a tendency to frown on overt militarisation and forced its oppressive international regulations down the throats of the North Sea Society. But on the moon, a quarter of a million miles away from the nearest international inspector or blue-helmet peacekeeper, there... there Nessies would be truly free. Its science unchained by petty concerns of ethics or bans on dangerous research (as if any research was "safe"!), its industry unrestrained by silly pollution guidelines or non-proliferation regulations.

The Boreal Tranquillitatis Society, an integrated subsidiary of the North Sea Society... it had a nice ring to it that Jonathan quite liked.

As he walked away from the launch platform, to exchange some pleasantries with the crew of the ACS Niels Bohr and wish them the best of luck, Jonathan could almost swear that he could even hear the muffled screams of the "volunteer" test subjects emanating from some of the cargo boxes. Dirty and incompetent foreigners they might be, taken off the poorest and most unstable corners of the Earth, they still had functional throats.

Nonsense, of course - he must have imagined it; they'd never be that sloppy with the cargo soundproofing.

---

Orders
Samuel Beckett (1 destroyer) jumps to 0205
Søren Kierkegaard (1 destroyer) jumps to 0303
Karin Boye (1 destroyer) jumps to 0404
Alan Turing and C.G. Mannerheim (1 cruiser, 1 destroyer) engages in interplanetary trade in Sol
Niels Bohr (colony ship) holds at Sol, transporting equipment from Earth to Luna
Purchased 10 processors at 700 credits each

Assets
ACS Niels Bohr (Colony Ship) - 250 Crew - Sol
ACS Alan Turing (Cruiser) - 250 Crew - Sol
ACS C.G. Mannerheim (Destroyer) - 250 Crew - Sol
ACS Karin Boye (Destroyer) - 250 Crew - jump to 0404
ACS Samuel Beckett (Destroyer) - 250 Crew - jump to 0205
ACS Søren Kierkegaard (Destroyer) - 250 Crew - jump to 0303
3,000 credits (7,000 spent this turn)
7 units of fuel (3 spent this turn)
1 undeployed habitation unit
10 undeployed processors (10 purchased this turn)
1 undeployed fabricator
23,500 trained colonists

Trade, the lifeblood of Earth, Buy low, Sell high, plain and simple.
The Turning and the Manheim manages to turn a profit of 1,500 credits

[New Antarcticania]

Orbit of Pluto, Sol System,
January 1st, 2060

The Kingpin was sitting in his personal room of the Smiling Fortune as the New Years celebration had been shown the sight of the various ships that UN EarthCom had assigned to be the first voyagers of space. He was smoking while hiding on the very edges of the solar system and where the power of the UN's naval power was at it's least. The very systems of the ship and the navy were tapped into the UN Com systems and to keep track of the other factions as they are being sent out across the cluster.

"Kingpin to command bridge, Kingpin to command bridge." The comms went on.

Rolling his eyes, he put his cigar out and got to walking. The interior was still a corporate ship through and through. Sleek and beautiful, sterile in color and chemicals. It had the logo of the Consortium on it's haul exterior, something of a corporate design to throw off suspicion. The very need to bring a more public face outside of their theft was something that they needed in case the UN Navy were to find them. The crew of the Fortune were pirates and former UN Space Navalmen. They all salute to the Kingpin who just made a gesture and they all return to their stations.

Once he sat on a modified captain's chair that was more gaudy with more bright colors that contrast from there sterile colors. He motioned for a crew member to get him some alcohol while his Lieutenant started to give the reports.

"Two companies had sent out their ships already. We have already sent ours out to the nearby clusters, the estimated time would be two weeks in order to get to the clusters. The Hab Unit and MFM Fabricator have been secured in the colony ship. We can still look for work like you requested if you want more fuel reserves for the long distance trips."

"Yes," he said after a sip," see if anyone needs the help of some destroyers. Willing to get in the good graces of the Consortium or are wanting to give enough support for their part in establishing a kelptoracy."

The Ambrosia(destroyer) sent to 303( 1 week)
The Tortuga( destroyer) sent to 404(1 week)
The Amstrum and Clementine are sent to go find criminal missions in the underworld
-10,000 credits
-8 units of fuel
-1 Ready to build Hab unit
-1 Ready to build MFM fabricator
- 25,000 colonists (that also acts as crew members)
*and 1 Colony ship (this is a unique ship that can NOT be replaced)
*4 destroyers( each 250 crew)
* 1 cruiser

Word in the underworld is that.....
*A certian individual named Slippery Joe Needs someone to hit a UN prisioner relocation convoy for a high value target

*A Pirate by the name of John McCain needs someone to smuggle weapons that he had purchased on earth to Venusia II

Both can be contacted In the city of Neo londinium.

[New Antarcticania]

Caelus Aerospace Enterprises HQ, Venus orbit, Solar System.
01/01/2060 (Earth Standard)

Getting to where we are now wasn't easy.
As soon as this corporation was brought forth into the world, I and my fellow directors had to act quick. If we didn't, then we would of ended up just being another bottom-feeder company, doomed to dissolve when our host country finally feel to corporate control. But because we were quick, we not only avoided that fate, but also went on to become one of the biggest companies in Sol. Having copies of the spacecraft blueprints those Aerodyne thieves popularised helped quite a bit. They thought that they were only going to have to share the system with only the UN and civilians. Must of been a shock when we moved in and screwed their plans up.
And unlike Aerodyne, we have an entire planet...or at least the airspace and atmosphere.
At least it's not Mercury. The only thing that ball of molten metal's good for is resources and solar farms. Still not a bad business venture...but profit is not what we're working for in the long run. Far fr-
Just then, my train of thought was derailed by the periodic ringing of the intercom. So, I tapped the answer the button and...
"This is Director Elwin. Who is this?"
"Good afternoon sir. I'm from mission control for Epsilon fleet." the other person replied.
"And what news do you bring?"
"The Charon, Nix and Hydra left for Sector 405. Now only the 2 destroyers and colony ship remain with us here."
"Good to hear. I await updates on the mission. Cancelling call."
"Understood."
And with that, it was back to peace. But there was still something I needed to take care of.
Returning to the intercom, I established a communication link with another part of the company. Moving that many ships was going to eat up quite a bit of fuel.
"This is atmospheric mining Director Conner. Who's calling?"
"This is Director Elwin. I'm putting in a request. We need some more resources. Would be helpful if you could extract something, be it for refining or selling."
"Alright, I can see what we could do."
"Thanks Conner."
"Roger."
Now, everything was ready. Ships were on their way to a part of space hopefully no other party was going to and we had a stable supply of resources. It will be a long journey, but that's what it's always been like for Caelus. And now, our long game will soon pay off.
Succeed or fail, we will try and ensure human freedom lives on, even if it's on another world.

Results:
CES Charon (Cruiser), Nix (Destroyer) and Hydra (Destroyer) jump to 0405.
Destroyers Kerberos and Styx remain in Venus orbit.
Colony ship remains in Venus orbit.
Caelus Enterprises starts to mine resources out of the Venusian atmosphere (300 people).

CES Charon (Cruiser): 250 crew. Jump to 405.
CES Nix (Destroyer): 200 crew. Jump to 405.
CES Hydra (Destroyer): 200 crew. Jump to 405.
CES Kerberos (Destroyer): 200 crew.
CES Styx (Destroyer): 200 crew.
Miners: 300 (3 resources/day)
-10,000 credits
-7 units of fuel
-1 Ready to build Hab unit
-1 Ready to build MFM fabricator
- 23,650 free staff
*1 Colony ship
*4 Destroyers
* 1 Cruiser

Harvesting,

It's a simple job, send in a couple men, get some resources, get out, repeat. Even a child could do it.

[Northern Socialist Council Republics]

"A prince ought to have no other aim or thought, nor select anything else for his study, than war and its rules and discipline; for this is the sole art that belongs to him who rules, and it is of such force that it not only upholds those who are born princes, but it often enables men to rise from a private station to that rank. And, on the contrary, it is seen that when princes have thought more of ease than of arms they have lost their states. And the first cause of your losing it is to neglect this art; and what enables you to acquire a state is to be master of the art." - Nicolo Machiavelli, The Prince

---

"Rory," the Director of the Strategic Committee greeted.

"Savannah," her brother replied. "It's been a while. I wish you would visit more often."

"I wish I could visit more often," she responded, giving a soft chuckle that was clearly not borne of mirth. "But you know why I cannot do that. The Society waits for nobody, Rory, not even for me."

The room was brightly lit and cheerfully decorated. Walls with just enough saturation to feel comfortable held within them furniture in flat and inoffensive pastel colours. Bright lighting, almost clinical, illuminated the meal that Rory was now setting out - and even that was red tomato cream on yellow pasta. There was no darkness in their meeting, not a single shadow, except perhaps in the hearts of the parlaying parties.

"Funny," Rory answered with a sardonic smirk, his eyes sadly glinting away at what once was and what could have been. So recent their innocent adolescence were, when measured in years, and yet how distant they stood, when measured in the tribulations they faced and the experiences they accrued. "My ears must be deceiving me, then, for they hear how you always seem to be able to make time for random strangers to warm your bed. Does family mean so little to you? It's your family as much as mine, Savannah, and don't you ever forget that. If only Clara could still see what we have become. She always tried her hardest to keep the Strands together."

Savannah froze for just half a second at the mention of their absent sibling, before continuing to methodically chew away at what was probably intended to be lasagna of some kind. Her brother was a competent man with many talents, and yet Savannah couldn't honestly claim that cooking was one of them.

"Watch what you say," she warned. "Don't insult our eldest sister by throwing her name so carelessly to make your petty arguments. Clara's accident was a tragedy. A tragedy. If only I could've..."

Savannah theatrically shook her head, as if shaking off bad memories.

"I hear Olivia is doing well at school," she continued, referring to her niece in a change of topic that was so transparently a 'veiled' threat.

"Are you so set on this course of action?" Rory asked, ignoring Savannah's statement, question, and implication all. "Space should be... enough blood and steel has been sown into the fields of Earth, Savannah. Don't take humanity's pointless wars into the stars. Sector 0205, Sector 0303... there is enough room out there for everyone. Enough resources, too. Conflict is a self-fulfilling prophesy. By believing it inevitable it is you who make it inevitable."

"Am I going to be able to enjoy the first private meal I am having in weeks," Savannah questioned, "or must I endure your verbal snipes for the remainder of our evening?"

"The crew will be alone out there," Rory continued, rolling over her sister's remarks. "Just them, and the crew of maybe a couple other destroyers from other Societies, out there with an entire star system to themselves. We're a naturally sympathetic species, Savannah. The natural interaction out there will be assistance, not subversion. It's a bad idea to order our ships to consider any other that approaches them without permission to be hostile. I say that not just as your Commandant of Aerospace Command, but as your brother too. The odds of misunderstanding, and thus of spoiling the last common heritage our species has left, is too great. Reach out to them, instead. Speak with this GreenWorld. See what you can do for each other. Let the final frontier be a mission of peace, for once."

"Prime Minister Collins thought that way, too," the elder Strand commented, after taking a moment to think. "He was someone who trusted in the weight of history and tradition behind him and trusted in the bright future that humanity had ahead of it. Someone who believed in the best of the men and women around him. Someone who thought that his opposition were motivated in good faith to improve his country, and that by reaching out to them he could heal the deep wounds that cut into the soul of Britain. Someone who fought to secure the safety of his nation in the Reunification Wars and against the depredations of foreign corporations. The first and last joint Conservative-Labour Prime Minister. A naive idealist."

She took a moment to work through another fork of pasta and down a sip of water.

"And that... that is why today Collins sits in an asylum missing three limbs and shaking off the effects of being cut up by a riotous mob while it is I, a mere teenager during the Reorganisation, who now guide the North Sea Society. There is no true compromise with evil, and never forget that this new world order is evil, Rory. If you ever feel sympathetic to them there is a shallow graveyard in Aberdeenshire to remind you. When foreigners always offer their 'peace' for an inch, they always mean an inch today, a foot tomorrow, a mile next week. No... there is no compromise, only the choice of struggle or submission, and I refuse to let my homeland submit. No matter what the cost of struggle may be."

"Out there, Rory, beyond the reach of United Nations peacekeepers, beyond the reach of their international law, avaricious and bloodthirsty corporations can and will try anything. We had better stand prepared."

For a minute there was peace except for the quiet sounds of cutlery.

"The Society above all else, eh, Savannah? The Society above all else... and to hell with anyone you trample over to get your way, to hell with your neglected family. It's always the welfare of the Society, and sometimes I question if you even remember that the Society has no interest except those of its people. Sometimes I wonder why I supported you instead of Clara. Sometimes I think it a mistake of a child. I was then, what, all of fourteen?"

"You're all grown up now," Savannah warned, almost snarling in an uncharacteristically low tone. "If you think it a mistake you may correct it whenever you wish. Should I tell my secretary to expect your resignation? I'm sure the Broadcasting Corporation will be happy, at least - they always want to present both sides in their opinion pieces and I hear that opposition voices are rare nowadays."

Silence.

"What I thought," the Director concluded. "Don't say pointless things if you can't put your money where your mouth is. Others you ramble away at may be less forgiving and more ruthless still compared to me."

Another moment of silence. Rory looked chatised, his anger - if he has any - suppressed. Whatever fight that infused him a minute ago now spent.

"I'll invite the Consortium and GreenWorld for a conference," she conceded. "I've been lied to too many times to have any confidence in those smarmy corporate types. Abstract goodwill and promises of future cordiality means nothing to me anymore. But if there is any common ground to be found - if, Rory, if! - then find it I shall. We're both fighting for a better world, Rory... we just don't see eye-to-eye on what that means."

Seeing that Rory had nothing to say in response - or perhaps not enough courage to say whatever he had? - Savannah let out a deep sigh. Standing up and walking awkwardly around the small plastic table, the most powerful woman in Northern Europe gripped her brother in an unrelenting hug.

"Just because I have obligations to my people," she whispered, "doesn't mean I don't care about my family. I still love you, Rory, even after everything. I still love you, brother of mine, and don't you ever forget that."

Rory returned her hug with a sad smile on his face.

"Savannah," he replied, "I honestly don't know if I believe you anymore."

---

Orders
Samuel Beckett (1 destroyer) explores 0205
Søren Kierkegaard (1 destroyer) explores 0303
Karin Boye (1 destroyer) jumps to 0503
Alan Turing and C.G. Mannerheim (1 cruiser, 1 destroyer) engages in interplanetary trade in Sol
Niels Bohr (colony ship) jumps to 0303, carrying equipment and supplies

Assets
ACS Niels Bohr (Colony Ship) - 300 Crew - jump to 0303
ACS Alan Turing (Cruiser) - 400 Crew - Sol
ACS C.G. Mannerheim (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - Sol
ACS Karin Boye (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - jump to 0503
ACS Samuel Beckett (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - 0205
ACS Søren Kierkegaard (Destroyer) - 200 Crew - 0303
4,500 credits (1,500 earned last turn)
5 units of fuel (2 spent this turn)
23,500 trained colonists
1 undeployed habitation unit
10 undeployed processors
1 undeployed fabricator

[New Antarcticania]

Welcome To the UNDSC standard terminal

Password:********
LOGIN:*********
......Welcome!

Two systems successfully scanned by corporate fleets
....reciving data......

Data for startsector 303, Monsoo system, and 205, Achises system received
.......Data added to UNDSC feed

Long range scanners have detected corporate fleets..... adding data to UNDSC alert feed.....Success


Have a productive day, Director!

[G-Tech Corporation]

Late January 1st, 2060

High Orbit Achises II, Achises System

It had been remarkable, really, the superluminal transit. Where Captain Petrov had done many years on the shuttle runs to the Belt and back, and to the various inhabited worlds of Sol, his brain had begun to subconsciously accept the long months such journeys entailed. But here they were, hundred of lightyears from the warm light of Earth, all in the span of a few hours.

And with a habitable planet below them to boot.

Oh, it wasn't exactly Earth. Too little water, for one, and too much sulfur, for two. But you could get by with a rebreather and a proclivity for hiding from intermittent storms of corrosive rain, and that was all you really needed, which put it centuries ahead of even the most proactive terraforming estimates for Mars, or Venus. It was paradise, from the perspective of a new home for mankind, and that was all they needed.

The Warrior, of course, had arrived only a few hours ahead of the next corporate vessels. There were ships from the Nessies out here somewhere too, according to their transponders and the flight logs that had been filed. Even with a prospecting team already on the surface of Achises II, there could be a legal bunfight over who had laid claim to the world first - hell, even over whether a corporate entity could lay claim to entire planetary bodies. But that was something for the eggheads and lads in suits to sort out.

Petrov, Petrov was just glad to look at a planet with no small amount of wonder in his eyes.

High Earth Orbit, Sol System

The transmission had come as somewhat of a surprise, if an amusing one, to Concomitant Nevis' office. The Director had a sense of humor, it seemed. A missive had come through, backchannel, rather outside of the usual UN purview. That meant it was both urgent, and, perhaps, not entirely necessary to report to EarthComm. A more formal letter would have spent at least a week chewing through minor functionaries and bloated administrations doing their level best to justify their budgets, but the transmission from the North Sea Society had arrived uncharacteristically swiftly, by private attache.

A conference. A curious idea. Something to do with the greater brotherhood of mankind, the welfare of the species and - most tellingly - preventing 'conflicts of interest on the final frontier'. Well, you didn't have to be a diplomat to read that level of intersectionality. The Society wanted non-interference in their affairs, and wanted the opportunity to growl out precisely what those affairs happened to be. Or, well, rather where those affairs happened to be. The inhabitants of the Hermit Peninsula were not exactly known for disclosing a syllable more than they were authorized to, even if a bit of ease of communication might be beneficial.

And so Nevis was on a subsonic shuttle to the ports at Neu Amsterdam, and rather looking forward to a bit of verbal fencing. It was, categorically, company policy to assert that GreenWorld was merely a genetic cataloguer seeking nothing more than a better future for man and her progeny. Being able to speak candidly about her ambitions in near space, even behind a cloak of plausible deniability, could be a bit of good fun. Much more stimulating than the usual press releases, denials, and the stark lack of comments which the Directorate preferred be his role.

It was after only an hour that the thermal flares were extended, and his transport began to descend towards the floating city, the jewel of the North Sea. Time to have some fun.

Destroyer Warrior conducts prospecting surveys on Achises II, establishes formal claim
Destroyer Dauntless dispatches archaeologists to classify the ruins on Masoo I, establishes formal claim
Destroyer Exarch, Cruiser Indomitable, Colony Ship Carthago, jump for Achises II (-1 Fuel)

Destroyer Dauntless - 200 Crew
Destroyer Warrior - 200 Crew
Destroyer Steersman - 200 Crew
Destroyer Exarch - 200 Crew
Cruiser Indomitable - 500 Crew
Colony Ship Carthago - 700 Crew, 23000 Colonists in Cryo
1,200 credits
7 units of fuel
1 Hab, 1 Fabber, 2 Cloners, 4 Harvester, 2 Processors, 2 Research Stations, 1 Orbital Battery, 1 Hydroponics

[Ralnis]

Word in the underworld is that.....
*A certian individual named Slippery Joe Needs someone to hit a UN prisioner relocation convoy for a high value target

*A Pirate by the name of John McCain needs someone to smuggle weapons that he had purchased on earth to Venusia II

Both can be contacted In the city of Neo londinium.

The two destroyers landed in the obscure corners of Neo Londinium. It was part of the city where the underworld thrived and the Consortium's influence could be felt. However with much of the power relied on investing in the idea of the Kingpin's fleet was the biggest thing the crime syndicates of the world were banking on. At least in secret, as the forces of the UN and other rivals would want to either shut down the idea or twist to their own design.

The captains of the Anstrum and Clementine met with the two men looking for some help.

[New Antarcticania]

January 2nd, 2060

High Orbit Achises II, Achises System

It had been remarkable, really, the superluminal transit. Where Captain Petrov had done many years on the shuttle runs to the Belt and back, and to the various inhabited worlds of Sol, his brain had begun to subconsciously accept the long months such journeys entailed. But here they were, hundred of lightyears from the warm light of Earth, all in the span of a few hours.

And with a habitable planet below them to boot.

Oh, it wasn't exactly Earth. Too little water, for one, and too much sulfur, for two. But you could get by with a rebreather and a proclivity for hiding from intermittent storms of corrosive rain, and that was all you really needed, which put it centuries ahead of even the most proactive terraforming estimates for Mars, or Venus. It was paradise, from the perspective of a new home for mankind, and that was all they needed.

The Warrior, of course, had arrived only a few hours ahead of the next corporate vessels. There were ships from the Nessies out here somewhere too, according to their transponders and the flight logs that had been filed. Even with a prospecting team already on the surface of Achises II, there could be a legal bunfight over who had laid claim to the world first - hell, even over whether a corporate entity could lay claim to entire planetary bodies. But that was something for the eggheads and lads in suits to sort out.

Petrov, Petrov was just glad to look at a planet with no small amount of wonder in his eyes.

High Earth Orbit, Sol System

The transmission had come as somewhat of a surprise, if an amusing one, to Concomitant Nevis' office. The Director had a sense of humor, it seemed. A missive had come through, backchannel, rather outside of the usual UN purview. That meant it was both urgent, and, perhaps, not entirely necessary to report to EarthComm. A more formal letter would have spent at least a week chewing through minor functionaries and bloated administrations doing their level best to justify their budgets, but the transmission from the North Sea Society had arrived uncharacteristically swiftly, by private attache.

A conference. A curious idea. Something to do with the greater brotherhood of mankind, the welfare of the species and - most tellingly - preventing 'conflicts of interest on the final frontier'. Well, you didn't have to be a diplomat to read that level of intersectionality. The Society wanted non-interference in their affairs, and wanted the opportunity to growl out precisely what those affairs happened to be. Or, well, rather where those affairs happened to be. The inhabitants of the Hermit Peninsula were not exactly known for disclosing a syllable more than they were authorized to, even if a bit of ease of communication might be beneficial.

And so Nevis was on a subsonic shuttle to the ports at Neu Amsterdam, and rather looking forward to a bit of verbal fencing. It was, categorically, company policy to assert that GreenWorld was merely a genetic cataloguer seeking nothing more than a better future for man and her progeny. Being able to speak candidly about her ambitions in near space, even behind a cloak of plausible deniability, could be a bit of good fun. Much more stimulating than the usual press releases, denials, and the stark lack of comments which the Directorate preferred be his role.

It was after only an hour that the thermal flares were extended, and his transport began to descend towards the floating city, the jewel of the North Sea. Time to have some fun.

Destroyer Warrior conducts prospecting surveys on Achises II, establishes formal claim
Destroyer Dauntless dispatches archaeologists to classify the ruins on Masoo I, establishes formal claim
Destroyer Exarch, Cruiser Indomitable, Colony Ship Carthago, jump for Achises II (-1 Fuel)

Destroyer Dauntless - 200 Crew
Destroyer Warrior - 200 Crew
Destroyer Steersman - 200 Crew
Destroyer Exarch - 200 Crew
Cruiser Indomitable - 500 Crew
Colony Ship Carthago - 700 Crew, 23000 Colonists in Cryo
1,200 credits
7 units of fuel
1 Hab, 1 Fabber, 2 Cloners, 4 Harvester, 2 Processors, 2 Research Stations, 1 Orbital Battery, 1 Hydroponics

Ruins, Masoo I
The study of a different race, a different culture has always been puzzling or difficult at the start, but the ruins on Masoo I, they were a whole other thing. The ruins is a series of bunker-like structures, Armed with what seems to be Automated defense tires that have malfunctioned a long time ago, Inside these structures are some sort of control panel, several rooms with what appears to be furniture, and one room with a giant hole.


Achises II, prospecting
Several massive Veins, all containing minerals, about the size of 2 killer whales was discovered by the prospectors, sure. It wasnt like the ones discovered on the early days of Colonial mars, but this will definitely keep the colony running for a long, long time.

[New Antarcticania]

Word in the underworld is that.....
*A certian individual named Slippery Joe Needs someone to hit a UN prisioner relocation convoy for a high value target

*A Pirate by the name of John McCain needs someone to smuggle weapons that he had purchased on earth to Venusia II

Both can be contacted In the city of Neo londinium.

The two destroyers landed in the obscure corners of Neo Londinium. It was part of the city where the underworld thrived and the Consortium's influence could be felt. However with much of the power relied on investing in the idea of the Kingpin's fleet was the biggest thing the crime syndicates of the world were banking on. At least in secret, as the forces of the UN and other rivals would want to either shut down the idea or twist to their own design.

The captains of the Anstrum and Clementine met with the two men looking for some help.

John McCain

The Capitan of the Destroyer finds John at the Slobbering mucka tavern that had somehow survived the shelling and High-explosive bombs of the Reunification wars, and has become a popular place fr criminals of all ranks and size to talk, and get some R&R, John is seen sitting in the corner, holding a bottle of cheap, watered down beer. And gives a slight nod to the captian as he sits down with him

"So, You've got t'a word, eh? Well, I'm a man that likes to get down the business, and I prefer to do it now."

Slippery joe

The Captian locates him at the Guns'narms, a popular firing range and gun shop in the underworld, who knows. Of you've got a positive reputation with the owner, he might have something with more punch at the back. Joe is standing Near the counter, nervous as a hell.

"Oh god, oh f***, please tell me you responded to my job posting!"

[Northern Socialist Council Republics]

It was after only an hour that the thermal flares were extended, and his transport began to descend towards the floating city, the jewel of the North Sea. Time to have some fun.

Winter in the North Sea was never a pleasant time, and nowhere more so in Ranaheim. Jonathan was glad to be back indoors, and no doubt so were his guests.

"I apologise for not introducing ourselves earlier," the nominal head of the Nessie delegation remarked, gesturing towards one side of the room where the Nessie delegation was standing. "I'm Jonathan Carpenter, Secretary for Intersociety Commerce here at the North Sea Society. To the right of centre there are Savannah Strand, Director of the Strategic Committee, and Sigurd van der Rijn, Junior Secretary for Legal Affairs. To the left stand Rickard Anderson, Director of the Scientific Committee, and Claire Rosengard, Colonial Office."

The talented GreenWorld negotiators, experienced as they were in the nature of these events and in gauging balances of power, could no doubt spot who the real leader of the Nessie delegation was even if they were not earlier briefed. But as long as the pretence held, well, it held. Real powers behind nominal thrones were nothing new on this Earth either.

Ranaheim, being the elite city that it was, certainly did not lack for conference halls. Ostentious things, with grand sweeping roofs and more tropical wood in their walls than in what little was left of the blasted Amazon. But those rooms were for the cameras, for the big deals, for the public relations. This was a small, private meeting between interested parties, and nobody here would be impressed by such absurdities.

Rather, Jonathan elected to hold the reception and the conference both in small rooms built entirely to Nessie sensibilities - simple, clean, and functional. The ceiling was only as high as it needed to be to not feel stifling, an abstract design of white, black, red, and yellow acrylic decorated the walls, and the metallic furniture gave off a sleek and modern feel - although perhaps lacking somewhat on the cushioning side of things.

"But it must have been a long flight from high Earth orbit. I thought that before we really got into the meat of today's discussions, we might offer you the warm hospitality of the North Sea," Jonathan continued, broadly gesturing towards the side table laden with food and the small circular dining tables beyond. "Join us in our lunch, if you will."

The food, contrary to the facilities, was distinctly un-Nessie. It was simple fare of Provencal style, prepared by a reputable and trustworthy cook of North American origin, and all of it cooked and served under supervision by observers from outside the North Sea Society. It was a hassle to arrange, but if Jonathan wanted his guests to touch any of it then it was also necessary. It was public knowledge in other Societies, after all, that if a Nessie offers you Nessie food or drink then you run away in the opposite direction as quickly as possible - mind-altering narcotics, slow-acting poison, who could tell? Certainly not you, definitely not the doctor diagnosing you afterwards, and maybe not even the Nessie that served it to you!

Intrigue and ambition from one end to the other, the North Sea Society, and nowhere more so than in Ranaheim.

"Please, be seated, and we can all familiarise ourselves with each other while our staff serves you your meals..."

[G-Tech Corporation]

Extraterrestrial Complex, Masoo I, Masoo System

"Well, they certainly weren't primitives."

It was an observation that went without saying, but there wasn't much more Doctor Schreiber could say after he had finished cataloging the ruins. Weapons systems, post-industrial if not spacefaring, living quarters. Pretty straightforward stuff. But the layout of the facility was puzzling. It was almost as if the builders had been preparing for some attack, or cataclysm, and yet there was no sign of the denizens of the facility having perished here. And Masoo I wasn't exactly the most hostile of worlds. Sure, the gravity was a bit high, and the atmosphere not the most conducive to carbon-based life. But that was assessing things from a purely human perspective.

By itself, of course, the discovery of extraterrestrial life was amazing. The shortwaves were buzzing with discussion on Earth, and the UN was sending a humanities team to help with the expedition. Corporate had decided the additional resources they could bring to bear by announcing the discovery were worth the potential value of keeping her secret. It was his job, now, to see if there was anything worth keeping secret before the UN team arrived tomorrow...

The archaeological team on Masoo I explores the ruins in depth, searching for new technologies or devices with non-terrestrial origin

[Ralnis]

The two destroyers landed in the obscure corners of Neo Londinium. It was part of the city where the underworld thrived and the Consortium's influence could be felt. However with much of the power relied on investing in the idea of the Kingpin's fleet was the biggest thing the crime syndicates of the world were banking on. At least in secret, as the forces of the UN and other rivals would want to either shut down the idea or twist to their own design.

The captains of the Anstrum and Clementine met with the two men looking for some help.

John McCain

The Capitan of the Destroyer finds John at the Slobbering mucka tavern that had somehow survived the shelling and High-explosive bombs of the Reunification wars, and has become a popular place fr criminals of all ranks and size to talk, and get some R&R, John is seen sitting in the corner, holding a bottle of cheap, watered down beer. And gives a slight nod to the captian as he sits down with him

"So, You've got t'a word, eh? Well, I'm a man that likes to get down the business, and I prefer to do it now."

Slippery joe

The Captian locates him at the Guns'narms, a popular firing range and gun shop in the underworld, who knows. Of you've got a positive reputation with the owner, he might have something with more punch at the back. Joe is standing Near the counter, nervous as a hell.

"Oh god, oh f***, please tell me you responded to my job posting!"

John McCain
Sitting down no nonsense the Captain of the Anstrum crossed his arms.

"Yeah, my boss got t'a word. How big is the convoy and what am I looking for? Also will there be any support or am I flying solo?

Slippery Joe
The Captain of the Clementine giggled a bit at the nervousness.

"Don't worry man, I'm here for the job posting. So how much will I be shipping and to where on Veulsian II?"

[New Antarcticania]

John McCain

The Capitan of the Destroyer finds John at the Slobbering mucka tavern that had somehow survived the shelling and High-explosive bombs of the Reunification wars, and has become a popular place fr criminals of all ranks and size to talk, and get some R&R, John is seen sitting in the corner, holding a bottle of cheap, watered down beer. And gives a slight nod to the captian as he sits down with him

"So, You've got t'a word, eh? Well, I'm a man that likes to get down the business, and I prefer to do it now."

Slippery joe

The Captian locates him at the Guns'narms, a popular firing range and gun shop in the underworld, who knows. Of you've got a positive reputation with the owner, he might have something with more punch at the back. Joe is standing Near the counter, nervous as a hell.

"Oh god, oh f***, please tell me you responded to my job posting!"

John McCain
Sitting down no nonsense the Captain of the Anstrum crossed his arms.

"Yeah, my boss got t'a word. How big is the convoy and what am I looking for? Also will there be any support or am I flying solo?

Slippery Joe
The Captain of the Clementine giggled a bit at the nervousness.

"Don't worry man, I'm here for the job posting. So how much will I be shipping and to where on Veulsian II?"

John McCain

"One of me pals got the ol' EMP from a UN fighta', now he's being held in a small relocation convoy heading to earth, the Blue helmets likes to keep their transport routes secret, but thanks to on of me mates, I know that they would be anything by the wonsoo system.The convoy is composed of a small transport and fighter squadron, and I've already hired a Merc fighter squadron to back you up.

I'll pay 5,000 credits if you disable the transport and bring me pal back here, Alive.

[New Antarcticania]

John McCain

The Capitan of the Destroyer finds John at the Slobbering mucka tavern that had somehow survived the shelling and High-explosive bombs of the Reunification wars, and has become a popular place fr criminals of all ranks and size to talk, and get some R&R, John is seen sitting in the corner, holding a bottle of cheap, watered down beer. And gives a slight nod to the captian as he sits down with him

"So, You've got t'a word, eh? Well, I'm a man that likes to get down the business, and I prefer to do it now."

Slippery joe

The Captian locates him at the Guns'narms, a popular firing range and gun shop in the underworld, who knows. Of you've got a positive reputation with the owner, he might have something with more punch at the back. Joe is standing Near the counter, nervous as a hell.

"Oh god, oh f***, please tell me you responded to my job posting!"

John McCain
Sitting down no nonsense the Captain of the Anstrum crossed his arms.

"Yeah, my boss got t'a word. How big is the convoy and what am I looking for? Also will there be any support or am I flying solo?

Slippery Joe
The Captain of the Clementine giggled a bit at the nervousness.

"Don't worry man, I'm here for the job posting. So how much will I be shipping and to where on Veulsian II?"

Slippery joe

Alright, you'll deliver 5 units of weapons to a small pirate hideout located in Alfos II, not Velusian II, I'll pay 3,500 credits if you get this stuff dropped onto the hideout without problem, understand?