Sunset: Then, Now, Tomorrow (Maintenance & Role-Play)

[Sunset]

Martian Duma, Mangala, Mars...

"Business cards?" Demi turned the neatly-made paper rectangle over in her hands. It had her name and full title printed in one corner and a raised, very nicely made sunburst right in the middle.

"More than that!" The aide bubbled, "They are consular cards! You know how businesses will hand out cards that have things like coupons, or catalogs on them?"

Demi nodded. Most people in Sunset got that kind of information through their augmented reality implants, but there were still plenty of visitors who either didn't have them or couldn't.

"The geeks decided to do them one better. They packed a whole consulate onto the card. Look!" She pulled out one of the cards and pressed the sunburst logo like a button. Putting it down on the desk they both watched as a holographic Martian Tiger appeared, in miniature, hovering over the card.

'Welcome to the Sunset Micro-Consulate, Ambassador...'

"It knows who you are because of your AR," the aide supplied. "If you don't have one, it goes into a standard script that guides you through whatever function you might need."

"How good is it?" Demi wondered. "Is it going to put us out of a job?"

"No, it's pretty good, but it's also connected. If you have a question that requires a more nuanced answer it can put you through to someone who can answer."

"So I should be expecting random calls?" Not that she'd mind. Sometimes the best times were to be had when something completely random popped up.

"Could happen," the aide shrugged. "If it's a question about Mars, and probably the Duma in particular. It's a pretty smart system."

[Sunset]

Arcanite System (GEC-65649), Unclaimed Space...

'Reaper Two, bogie on three-dash-three..."

'Roger Bikini One...'

Reaper Two slid starboard and for the moment the Super Aggressor was safely obscured from it's new tail by a projecting slab of armor. Flipping end-over, she burned her primary thrusters to come to an almost complete stop compared to the pirate battleship she was hiding beside, dropped a pair of missiles, and jetted upward. A moment later the pirate fighter roared around the corner and neatly into the oncoming missiles. Shredded metal peppered the hull for a moment but the Super Aggressor was headed towards it's assigned target with no time to pause.

Slipping over the top edge of the ship, she turned and aimed for the rising super-structure that housed the ship's bridge as well as a dense cluster of point defense batteries. These lit up and energy danced around the heavy fighter, scoring a dozen hits. It's shields shimmered and it dropped and wove, forcing the gunners to chose between hitting the incoming craft and their own hull.

Answering the fire with it's own arsenal, Reaper Two pulsed off a half-dozen shots, each punching away at a section of armor where the super structure and the main hull came together. A final shot and a dozen missiles rocketed away a moment before the fighter took a fatal hit and pinwheeled away to explode and bring a shout of triumph from the gunners. The missiles sped on, too close to intercept, and one by one they slipped into the hole left.

There was no rippling explosion, no dramatic fireball. Perhaps they hadn't reached their minimum safe distance, perhaps they were duds, either way the gunners had more important tasks as Reaper Two's partner, Bikini One, made a run for cover and they attempted to drop it before it could escape.

[Sunset]

VS

Bikini Penguin and Reaper Penguin are Sunset Defense Force Special Operations Squadrons. Both squadrons are nearly identical, with the exception being that the majority of Reaper's operators are male, while the majority of Bikini's operators are female. These squadrons were created as an experiment in military rivalry, competition, and esprit-de-corps. The initial experiment was deemed successful, and as the Special Operations branches don't give a [expletive] about political correctness, it continues to this day.

The squadrons are also experimental in the way they handle roles within the squadron. They are both commando units, with an emphasis on fast attack, ambush, and heavy assault. In the bleeding edge Sunset military that means drones. However, instead of specialized drone operators, both units extensively cross-train all of their operators in all of their systems. An operator might find themselves flying cover on one operation and ground infiltration on the next, or even within the same operation.

To this end, both units use specialized versions of regular SDF assets. These have been modified with special versions of the AR interface used by the SDF with an emphasis on commonality of controls so that an operator can smoothly move from one asset to another.

Solstice-Class Carrier
Each squadron operates from a single Solstice-Class - SDF-Triumphant and SDF-Magnificent - with each utilizing the entire carrier, as opposed to the normal operations of a Solstice-Class which would include 4-6 squadrons of fighters. This includes the squadron's fighters, ground combat drones, transports, and other specialized equipment.

Super Aggressor Heavy Assault Fighter
Bikini and Reaper operate the Block IIS variant of the SDF's standard heavy fighter. The Block IIS has been modified to allow for differing weapon load-outs, specialized ordinance, and the specialized control interfaces the squadrons use.

[Sunset]

Visitor's Brochure, 'Sunset Criminal Justice and You!'...

Slavery! It's one of the worst things you'll hear about Sunset. And yes, slavery does exist, but let's do a quick question and answer to dispel some of the biggest myths about it.

'Can I be snatched off the streets and be taken away as a slave?'

No! Slavery can only be used as a punishment for a crime where an individual has been tried and convicted in a court of law. Taking any individual as a slave, even those who are wanted criminals in other nations, without court approval is itself one of the most serious crimes in Sunset. If you see this happening, report it! The reward is considerable!

'They can make you a slave for stealing a candy bar!'

Yes. Though the sentence would be very short, on the matter of minutes, and even that would only be if you couldn't repay the cost of the candy bar times three. Times three? Yes. Theft is punished by repayment of new value times three in Sunset. In less enlightened nations, thieves are often sent to jails. That costs money, the victim has still lost their property, and the state has paid to apprehend them. In Sunset, the victim is repaid and the state receives some recompense for their apprehension.

If, for some reason, you couldn't repay the value of the candy bar, you would be sentenced to repay that cost in labor (Current Sunset Minimum Wage: 10.24Dc). Obviously if the value of the item stolen is considerable, the time required to pay it back may be far more considerable. Which brings us to the next question.

'I heard that Sunset puts a value on a life and you can get away with murder if you can pay it!'

True, Sunset puts a value on a life. It's 5.3 million di-coins. Here's where the answer splits into two parts:

If you kill another sentient in a place where there are at least two or more un-compromised witnesses and are convicted, the family of the victim may opt for execution or slavery.

If you kill another sentient in a place where there are no direct witnesses but there is evidence beyond a reasonable doubt, the family of the victim will receive you as a slave.

Given the value of a sentient life has been set at 5.3 million di-coins, and as a murderer is required to repay three times the cost, while it is possible to get away with murder by paying your way out it is enormously expensive to do so. It should also be noted that the debt is owed to the family, unless there is no family in which case the costs are recuperated by the state.

What happens to you if you do become a slave? Well, depending on the costs you have to repay, you will likely end up standing behind a counter at a fast food restaurant taking orders. The exception are murderers and these tend to be sold off to individuals who need people for high-risk operations. Sometimes it's interesting and very high risk, in the case of mercenaries in active war zones, and other times it's tedious and high risk, such as rare mineral miners or hazardous planet construction crews.

The best way to avoid the whole problem is... Don't commit a crime! Compared to most nations, Sunset's penal code is extremely short. Most 'moral' crimes are not considered such in Sunset, and are at worse against local ordinance and can only result in expulsion.

[Sunset]

OOC: And if you thought the last post sucked, so did I!

GEC-39520 (Solonic)...

"Why even bother with a body then?" Sgt. Timmons asked his companion, who looked for all the world like a medieval knight in full regalia. There were some definite differences between the plate-wearing man and his Terrain counterpart - the Solon had sculpted their armor to resemble one of several dozen different 'guardian spirits' - but overall the appearance and function was much the same. Aside from the gaping wound in his side that revealed the metal armature underneath the foam rubber and plastic.

"For a long time we didn't," Philus explained. "For a few years after Diclicus discovered how to successfully transfer a mortal essence into an electronic mind, we lived as a single hive mind."

"Transfer, not upload or copy?" The difference was important, and Philus nodded in recognition of that fact.

"Yes. Uploading or copying isn't a true post-mortality singularity. That's just a bunch of robots deciding they don't like mortals, telling them they are being 'uploaded', and then getting rid of the mortals afterwards. Diclicus had a couple near-misses with that one."

A nurse, again in an outfit that suggested a guardian spirit, had entered the tent and was quickly removing the ruined pieces of Philus' torso. This left the gleaming metal of his endo-skeleton exposed and Timmons made note of how it attached to the fake flesh of the exterior body. "May I?" He held up one hand, showing the knight the scanner imbedded there.

"Certainly. I can get you full schematics if you like."

"Our medical community will appreciate this. Doubtless we'll be seeing more of your species."

"Doubtless. In fact, faster-than-light travel or our lack of progress in it's discovery was one of the reasons Diclicus pushed so hard to perfect the essence transfer process before his death. He wanted to be one of those to see the stars up close rather than just through a telescope."

"That's too bad."

"Ironically it's also part of the reason why we began to move back towards individual bodies. We found that, as a singularity, our normal curiosity began to wane." His new torso fitted, Philus rose and began to twist his body around, checking to make sure everything worked. "Ah, all better. Thank you," he bowed to the nurse, who returned it and left the tent. "Without some risk there seemed to be no reward. Those of us who are of a more philosophical bent could supply you with a massive tome as to the other reasons but it all comes down to some aspect of our abandoned biology."

"But you're still here on Solonic."

"Oh yes. That's been another issue entirely. We've re-discovered risk but that has led to the majority of our time being devoted to it. Knights in armor fighting for the hand of ladies. People throwing themselves out of perfectly good airplanes. Some have suggested the next step is to make our metal bodies more vulnerable. Or start using weapons that can damage them."

"Why not reverse the process?"

"A complex topic. Until the arrival of your ship, we had been considering it. It would give our society a reason to strive, but it would also do considerable damage to the planet and if we failed, we might become extinct. Right now we re-use and recycle everything. All of the manufacturing plants that create these costumes are fully automated, maintained by robots who do not care if they don't have a house to go home to, a car to drive, and all the pollution that comes with that. And that's just for starters."

----

New Vancouver, Vallis Super-Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

"Having reviewed the evidence, I find the defendant to be dumb. Pay the man and get lost."

For any crime in Sunset, the scale determined who determined the punishment. In the case of a candy bar, filched while the shopkeeper had his back turned but the cameras weren't, it was up to the officer to be judge, jury, and executioner. Anything past the value of a normal work day (81.84Dc) she'd have to get her supervisor involved. At a month it finally went to a judge.

The red headed teenager looked up at the police officer with a scowl. Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card, swiping it across the armored forearm the officer held out, and thumbing the card when the display had shown the amount needed.

"Insufficient funds?" The officer sighed and looked over to the shopkeeper, who was silently fuming over the interruption to his day. "Just a second. Come over here," she led the kid to the back of the store. "Can I see your transaction history?"

"No."

"Look, I don't care what you're trying to hide," his crossed arms and averted face told her that plain as day, "But if you don't let me see your transaction history, you'll have to spend twenty minutes stocking shelves. Is it worth it for a candy bar?"

Judging by his clothes, his parents would pay back any debt he owed in seconds. If he was dumb enough to steal the candy bar, maybe there was something else going on though.

"Lemme guess. Grounded. You're not even supposed to be outside of your house."

"No."

"On a dare? See if you can avoid getting caught?"

"No."

The conversation was turning boring, really quickly, and there were a dozen calls already in the queue. She turned back to the front of the store and waited for the shopkeeper to finish with his current customer, "Yo! Shopkeep! Kid can't pay. He's all yours for... Twenty-one minutes."

"I don't want him in my shop!" The man shouted back. "But... Alright." Turning around, he grabbed a sign out of the window and held it up. "Here, go hold this out on the sidewalk. Twenty-one minutes, and I'll be watching!"

The youth slouched back to the counter, grabbed the sign, and headed out onto the terrace. Leaning up against a planter he began to wave the sign sullenly while the shopkeeper watched from behind the register and the police officer rose into the mid-afternoon sky on the way to her next call.

----

GEC-684, Hanson's Kneecap...

Erik scrambled backwards, the flailing jaws and snapping teeth of the marsh chicken just avoiding making him less of a man, and his hand closed over the pistol he had foolishly laid aside. The first shot missed, and the chicken took another snap at what it must have thought was a particularly appetizing grub, and then another. It took him six precious shots to dispatch the thing.

Flopping on his back, he pulled his pants up. Even going to the bathroom was dangerous out here!

[Sunset]

Saint Medical Systems Headquarters, New Vancouver, Vallis Super-Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

"Interesting, and where did you say it comes from?" Dr. Mona Wilt, President of Saint Medical, watched as the bacteria sample retreated visibly from the pinhead-sized lump of crystal that had been deposited in the center of the Petri dish. The bacteria was the very common staphylococcus, responsible for many infections even in a place and time as advanced as Sunset. But here it seemed to be on the run, the cultured bacteria moving quickly away from the irregular crystal while any that had been too close died a tiny death.

"GEC-8540..." The lab technician checked his notes again. "Notch."

"One of the Galactic Exploration Command finds? Your tax dollars at work."

"Yes ma'am. Now, this is what happens when we expose many common bacteria to the crystalline form. However, if we powder it and suspend it in solution..." He picked up a dropper and held it over another dish. A single fat glob of water mixed with powder hit the center of the dish and the effect was immediate.

"It kills it. All of it." Wilt was impressed. The substance was an extremely potent anti-biotic. Over the years more and more common bacteria had become resistant to all but the most lethal and often radical treatments. Companies like Saint Medical had spent billions - trillions - to develop more effective methods to fend them off.

"Get the lawyers in here," Mona ordered. "And get a ship chartered. Is the planet unclaimed?"

The technician tapped away, "Yes. No sentient life, routine investigation, monitoring buoys... No activity."

"Perfect. I'll get out there and stake the claim personally. Not a word of this gets out of here until I call in, got it?"

----

GEC-8540 (Notch), About to be Sunset territory...

"That's why they call it Notch?" Mona looked at the planet in the holo-tank and nodded, "Seems appropriate."

Indeed it was. The whole planet resembled an orange that had been crushed and allowed to spring back into something resembling a sphere. A dozen huge splits criss-crossed the surface but the largest of these was visible, side on, as a deep V that plunged far into the planet.

"Like someone hit it with an axe. Let's get down there."

The ride down from the chartered fast courier was uneventful, but it gave Mona a chance to survey what was likely to be Saint Medical's largest capital investment ever. While the planet had appeared dusty brown and thus dead from orbit this turned out to be far from true. As they approached, the dusty brown blotches became a little more green and she could tell that they were plants of all shapes and sizes. Closer still and she could see that they were usually spindly, with needle-shaped leaves or branch-leaf combinations.

"The wind is considerable. Average speed is about twenty," the co-pilot of the shuttle read off. "Outside temp is twenty five, moderated by the winds, so a little cold. Not that you'll notice. Oxygen content is too low for humans."

Mona nodded. She'd come prepared. A suit of armor, custom fitted for her and painted out with the company logo, would get her on the surface long enough to plant the flag and stake the claim. There was a slight bump and she shifted to face the door.

"We're down."

----

Greenlight, Mammoth-Class Colony Ship, Martian Orbit...

"Why do we have to leave Mars?" Gina asked, for the hundredth time. Just outside the curving windows the vast bulk of the New Pablicosta orbital station rose above and below them, sheltering even the massive ship in the embrace of it's curving docking arms.

"It's a chance for a new start," her father, Landis, explained for the hundredth time. 'Somewhere without memories of your mother,' was the unspoken part. Gina was ten now, ten years without Samantha.

"It's not a nice looking world."

"It will look nicer." Landis would make sure of that. He was an engineer, one of the team that would supervise the massive construction systems as they bored their way into the cliffsides of the already-named capital of All Saints.

----

Da Vinci Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

"Well, you see, we have something of a triad... Three legs, you see?" Tory Wilastry stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled as he continued, "In the Sunset Accounting Office, we call it the FGC triangle. Fast, Good, Cheap. You pick two. On any government contract, you pick two."

He looked up at the hulking battle tank that only filled a small part of the massive facility that he only occupied one tiny bit of. But he treated it like he owned it. Mostly because, as a lead inspector for the SAO, he did in a manner of speaking.

"But," he looked at the president of the company, who shifted nervously in his suit, "I'm only finding Good. These are a great tank..." He looked up at the armored behemoth, "Fast, powerful, lots of armor... Expensive... And you only make one a month."

"Well, it's a thirteen thousand ton tank!"

"Yeah, it is. But so is the Champion. You've heard about the Champion?"

The president shook his head, though Tory knew he had.

"It's a hellova tank. And we could cancel our contract with you and get the whole run in a quarter of the time. From my perspective, that sounds really good. Get what we need, and have it ready to serve the people. You hear what I'm saying?"

"Well, I can..."

"One of those other two legs. Cheap, or fast. Which is it gonna be?"

[Sunset]

CORE VirtuaGov, Sunset...

"The advisory committee for the Secretariat of Education has advanced their portion of the advanced budget bill. I've reviewed it and found it to be good and proper."

That was about all the speech Junior Senator 68 was prepared to make. As a Junior Senator, it was his job to review the budget bill that would take effect in four year, just before he left office, as both a way to get familiar with what exactly the government did (a lot) and what it didn't do (a lot). Under the Sunset Constitution, laws passed (including the budget) were in effect until the sponsoring Senator left office and after that they were subject to review and re-approval. That was by no means a trivial task as that meant that every law was reviewed at least once every four years.

"Very well," The President of the Senate took the bill, a thin document only a couple pages in length, from his hand and placed it in a stack with the other portions of the larger budget bill. A virtual staple punch later and she had the completed document ready for a vote. She'd be done as a Senator during the next election, unless she happened to get lucky and answer all the questions just the right way. Times were changing though. The complete non-interference that the Senate had tried to maintain over the business world was changing.

Corporate take-overs... She shook her head. Four years ago the idea hadn't existed. Six months? Just a whisper floating around the office. Now they were talking about legalizing and encouraging it. It would be good for the economy, but would it be too much government interference? Would it even pass muster at the Constitutional Review Court? She was sure the Secretary-General was in favor of the idea, though the idea of legalizing it might not appeal. After all, Ms. Silaco was CEO of her own mega-corporation...

----

Landor City, Terra Incognito, New Latin System...

"They are buildings." Richardo announced. "At least, that's the best analogy. The red ore is like a roadway, the complex crystals are like buildings. The inhabitants come and go, living in the crystals until it's time to move on."

"So we need to catch them when they are home to kill them?" Lt. Ya asked.

"Talk to them!" Demi broke in.

The young lieutenant turned to her, "They don't seem up to talking, Ambassador Love."

"We've tried, sure," She'd reviewed the records of the whole insurgency herself. "But were we talking to them, or to a blank wall? From what the Doctor here is saying... Richardo... They are attacking and moving on before we can trap and kill them."

"Doubtless we've killed some of them, but yes. I don't know how exactly they manipulate the rock yet, whether it involves the ore or crystals or not, but I'd suspect they operate in a traditional ambush fashion. Strike and fade."

Lt. Ya grimaced. He knew that much was true. They were still losing men down in the caves and now they were losing citizens as well. Anyone at ground level was at risk, and that first sinkhole had been but the first.

"What do you propose we do then?"

"I don't know," Demi shrugged. Lt. Ya stared at her. "We need to be able to talk to them, so we have to track them. Can you give me any help Doctor?"

[Sunset]

Orson Welles Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

"Good evening and welcome to the show, Madam Secretary!"

The host was, as hosts in Sunset often are, young, bubbly, and attractive. Anything for market share, even if she had to take off her clothes. The Secretary-General did rank a few levels above the local naked news however...

"Thank you." Unlike the young host, Erika Silaco had a timeless beauty. High angular cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, and wavy blond hair that seemed to always be in fashion. With the right makeup she could be in her mid-thirties, or mid-fifties, though she didn't make her real age widely known.

"Let's get right to it: What's the scandal of the day? What should we be talking about?" The host leaned in, all attention on Erika's response.

"Slavery. Specifically the Blue Bull cartel that was broken up this morning." Images of the senior membership of the cartel began to flash as transitory holograms in the air behind her, along with pictures of freed slaves and re-united families. "As your viewers know, slavery is legal, but taking a free citizen, who owes no debts and has committed no crimes, is illegal. It doesn't matter what their race, creed, religion, language, or citizenship is. This cartel was falsifying documents, taking people off the streets, and trying to sell them as legitimate. Fortunately one of the businesses they targeted thought the deal smelled funny and turned them in."

"Yeah, that's terrible! Good for them!"

"It should also be noted that your government doesn't approve of non-voluntary slavery at all, anywhere. So far this year, over three hundred men and women in the SDF have given their lives in anti-slavery operations throughout our spheres of influence. We've freed nearly two hundred thousand, mostly in failed states where one faction enslaved another under a pretense of economic necessity."

----

Liquid Design, Shalbatana Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

"This thing is driving me nuts!" Edward - Eddy - Hand spun the model around in space and glared at it. He was trying to perfect the cross-section of the new heavy cruiser the SDF was due to begin construction on but it just wasn't coming out right. Sure it was mostly artistic, but when the SDF showed up at someone's door, he wanted them to look good!

----

GEC-8540 (Notch), All Saints...

An unholy crunch echoed through the deep canyons of Notch as the mighty excavator took it's first scoop out of the cliff side. Landis nodded in approval, watching from his position in a hover truck a few hundred meters away. For the first bite he wanted to be on-site. Sure, he could access everything in suitable detail from the temporary office building set a few kilometers back from the canyon edge, but this was the real thing. Real dirt and rock pouring down the hillside as the blades sunk deep.

Below the excavator a massive hauler waited, catching the debris as it slid downward. He'd chosen to dig right into a vein of the very mineral they were after. As they pushed deeper into the cliff the excavator would follow it, removing every little piece, and behind it the new city would be laid down. Apartments for the contractors, businesses for them to shop at, laboratories to research further uses... It would all follow this one scoop of dirt.

[Sunset]

New Vancouver Federal Prison, New Vancouver, Sunset, Mars...

Owen rolled over on his mat and looked up at the ceiling. It was his first night on the row - Cell Block Zero as it was technically known - and the dead silence was creeping him out. He'd walked the row, past the other nine cells on his side and ten opposite, to find himself in the last empty cell with just a mat, a blanket, and an otherwise empty cell.

He'd talked to the other prisoners until 'Lights Out!' had been called. Heard their stories. Crimes of passion, claims of accidents. He knew that they'd done it. He'd done it. Two men, killed for talking about his smuggling operation, a bullet in the back of the head. But there had been a couple bums under that pile of garbage and they'd gone to the police. One had a cheap camera - omni-present in Sunset - and recorded the whole thing. The jury had taken an hour to review the evidence, decided on guilt, and the families of the two men had decided on death.

Whether or not he was worth a life of slave-labor... He thought so. In the holding cells before his trial some of the other prisoners had told him tales of places they'd worked. One woman was in for killing her owner. She'd spent a few years as a prostitute after killing her lover for cheating on her.

He yawned. He hadn't been feeling tired at all a few minutes ago but now sleep was rapidly overtaking him...

----

"Do you certify execution for Owen Milson?"

"We do."

The Prison Warden nodded and turned to the next family. One by one, they confirmed their choice of sentence as the prisoners slept on the monitors behind him. His task done, he signed the order and nodded to the executioner. She took the order, double-checked all the entries, and checked for any last minute clemency notices. It wasn't unheard of for the Secretary-General to grant clemency to a prisoner. It wasn't as nice as it sounded. The family would receive compensation and personal assurance that the murderer was on their way to a suicide mission or some other likely-lethal task that suited their skills.

There were no notices and she triggered the system known as the Crushinator.

"Several minutes ago an anesthetic gas was fed into the cell block, putting all the prisoners into a deep sleep. Odorless... They just fell asleep," the Warden explained. "As you can see now the bunks are sinking into the floor, along with the urinals, table, and chair."

They all watched as, silently and smoothly, the various projections around the room either retracted into the wall or sunk into the floor until it was one smooth surface. Aside from the prisoners who still slept on their mats.

"Turn the volume off."

The executioner nodded and the sound was turned down.

"Proceed."

The execution was over. In an eye blink, the cell block ceiling fell the bare eight feet onto the prisoners below. Hundreds of tons of steel backed by even more concrete smashed the contents of the cells into unrecognizable paste.

[Sunset]

Toconao Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

There is a third option...

"And in this corner, convicted of murder in the willful deaths of two of his criminal associates, Mike 'Lucky Mike' Feelsgood!"

The spotlight shifted from the announcer in the center of the arena to one corner where a thick, beefy looking man was cradling a nasty-looking shotgun. The spotlight on him, he looked up, gave a nasty looking smile, and raised the weapon over his head. As his criminal associates - fellow thieves - had lacked families the state had exercised it's right to decide his punishment. And with a name like that, who could blame him for smiling? It had been less a double-murder than a three-way brawl, finally decided at the barrel of a gun after someone's share had come up short.

If he won, he'd be on to the next match. He'd have to win two to redeem himself for two lives taken. Maybe he'd stay in though. There were a number of gladiators who'd made a career of killing until their number came up. The money was great, after all. The state would be making bank for his appearances, why shouldn't he get a cut of the action?

Lucky Mike rolled his shoulders, stretching and warming up while the announcer finished the last few names. He was going to be facing off against five others in a simple free-for-all gunfight. The shotgun was a natural choice. Easy to hit, and if he needed more than the sixteen rounds it held in the drum magazine... Well, his luck was already out!

[Sunset]

SDF-Unconquered Sun, Unclaimed Space...

A single graceful bound and the miniature Martian Tiger was perched on the edge of Erika's neat desk. Neat for a moment, as it took the immediate opportunity to knock over a decorative pen vase and send one skittering across the open surface with a playful paw. It zipped right by the Secretary-General and off the edge of the desk to rattle on the floor while the miscreant cat followed up it's mischief with a carefully considered step right between her arms, rubbing up against her chin and getting in the way of the document she was reading.

An absent-minded hand drifted up, scratched the top of her pushing head, and gently moved the cat aside. Taking this as a mark of acceptance she rolled onto her side, legs extending and jaws wide for a luxurious stretch, and began to purr. A stack of unimportant paperwork made a fine bed and before long she was snoozing contentedly.

----

Mazamba Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

Fake Money - his real name - walked the long hallway of the posh upper terrace condo complex with the casual ease of someone who was exactly where he belonged. At least that's where he felt he belonged. His actual home was a mid-level home on the north side, which put it at lower-middle class. That was still pretty good for a professional thief. While he walked the hall he scanned each door carefully for anything that might identify the occupants. Part of being a successful thief was knowing who you were robbing.

Break into the wrong place and you might find yourself looking at a empty condo, maintained for the sake of appearances while the occupant spent most every night in a different bed. Or, inversely, you might be breaking into an urban brothel. They tended to have more... active security arrangements. Early in his career Fake had stumbled into one. He'd earned a night in the hospital and a bill from the Madame for the door. Here was the perfect setup though. Some shoes by the door - kids, dirty - and scratches on the door said it was a nice family, kids and a dog. They'd be out now, but he'd be careful and quick, just in case.

The mechanical lock was a piece of cake - professional thief - and the electronic one went down too. He quickly reviewed the logs on the electronic lock and that told him his instincts were right. A 'curfew' profile, and typical traffic patterns for a family, told him he'd be safe. They might have an interior security system but a lot of people trusted in the overpriced systems to keep their whole house safe. He, he put his alarm on the bathroom door. He couldn't count the number of times he'd had to take a pee while on the job.

The door opened onto a nicely decorated entryway, and he took the chance to take a look around and more importantly listen. He'd had cybernetic ears installed a few years ago and they had come in handy over and over. The sounds of a resident softly snoozing away the morning, someone returning home early from work, or more importantly the sound of claws on hardwood floors. Dogs. He hated dogs. Noisy and slurpy and people paid attention to them. Cats were the perfect house pet for the modern thief.

Nothing.

A check of the scanner mounted under the skin on his forearm said there were no interior security systems in this space and he moved into the foyer. A foyer. One day he might have one of those. A big score. One way led to the living room, where there were likely electronics galore, and the other led to a kitchen. A really nice kitchen set could be worth some good money. Electronics came and went but high end sauce pans held their value nicely and all the pawn shops took them. Artwork though... Even better. He looked at the paintings on the wall, the statues in their niches, and started taking pictures.

'Tic, tic, tic...'

He froze for a second, looked around, and there it was again. From another part of the house. Whatever it was, it was coming towards him and he moved into a shadowy recess under the stairs. It wasn't a person - no breathing - but it was moving. He looked up the stairs and watched as an orange and black cat meandered out onto the landing. Perfect. Just a cat.

[Sunset]

Galaxy Exploration Command Database Entry...

Species: P'rk
Homeworld: eP'rk (GEC-99323D)

Age: 110 Standard years, notable exceptions.
Weight: 50-60kg Average Adult (35 years)
Height: 1.5-1.9m Average Adult

Physical Description: The P'rk are humanoid and follow that convention with the following exceptions.

All P'rk appear female, having noticeable breasts for the feeding of young and what would be considered by many cultures as feminine body characteristics. They are usually slim with a notably flexible build. Skin color varies from gray to blue to brown, with subdued, darker tones being universal. There are notable remnants of their aquatic evolution, with larger skin cells that can give some individuals a slightly scaled skin texture. A sub-cutaneous fat layer, also vestigial, tends to soften their appearance. Hair color tends to dark, with the standard being the same color as the skin although exceptions exist. It is usually found on the head, and very thinly on the upper torso (usually unnoticeable).

All P'rk have a double-ridge that runs from their forehead, down the back of their head and neck, over the shoulders and between the breasts. It then splits, widening and moving under the breasts, to wrap around the back. Fanning out over the shoulder blades into between six and eight smaller ridges, these then merge into the skin. Between these ridges, high on the forehead, between the breasts at the lower breastbone, and at the base of the neck on the back, lies a unique sensory organ. This organ provides the P'rk with a visual sense equivalent to Schlieren photography, allowing the P'rk to see the flow of fluids of varying density, including air. Visually these organs appear as inky black diamonds, with individual variety in the shape. They are protected by a transparent lid, and function even when the P'rk is asleep.

Male P'rk have an organ system roughly equivalent to a vagina but this is a shielded entrance canal to the testes. These produce sperm (large, approximately 1.2cm) which is gathered by the female's phallus during intercourse and transferred to a breeding pouch inside the female. Gestation is rapid, taking only three months, and usually resulting in the laying of two to three soft-skinned pouches each containing one gestating P'rk. These remain attached to the female by an umbilical cord. The surface of this cord, like the pouches, starts with a soft, nearly transparent skin, that rapidly becomes opaque and thicker until it is identical to the skin of an adult P'rk. This process is rapid, taking about a week, but this is when the majority of children were lost until the modern era of P'rk culture.

Cultural Overview: Aquatic Sub-Type
It is a notable fact that the P'rk's evolutionary ancestor is still extant and lives freely in the oceans and rivers of eP'rk. It is, in fact, one of the more dominant species with hundreds of different sub-species that range in size from five to six centimeters to twenty to thirty meters. P'rk sociologists draw frequent comparisons between one or more of these species when describing P'rk culture.

In the modern era, P'rk society is organized around two basic units: The female pod, and the male. Pods tend to work by consensus, having no singular leader but rather a system of shifting lead members who might have the most expertise in a particular field. Pods are also familial, generally being composed entirely of sisters from a particular parental pod. Pods have from two to ten members on average. One of the particularities of the female pods is that they tend to stick together, and exceptions are generally only found where all other members of a pod have died. This means that where one member of a pod is employed, all members are. Pods tend to be a stabilizing force in P'rk society, seeking to maintain a cultural standard that works to the betterment of all members.

Conversely, males are the destructive force in P'rk society. They move their sexual associations from pod to pod, and tend towards disruptive positions within the economy. Sometimes male 'pods' will form, though even within these there is competition for the member with the best job, best female pod, and the like. However, male P'rk attach themselves to a female pod when breeding is desired. These attachments last through the learning stages (20-25 years), and the male P'rk participates fully in the rearing of the children though they often focus on the males.

[Sunset]

Shalbatana Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

"I'm afraid we've sold out," the saleswoman informed them, though the smile on her face stayed plastered in place the whole time. "They are just extremely popular right now."

The young couple looked at the spot on the display where the desk had been. While there wasn't even a dusty outline to suggest the natural wood roll-top desk had even been there, they still had the virtual display in the ad that was in their head and they could see just where it would have fit in to the whole space.

The younger of the two women sighed, "But Western-Modern is just in! What else do you have?"

The saleswoman pointed to the rest of the room. It was all Western-Modern, but they'd only really needed a new desk.

"Maybe some swinging doors for the bedroom?" Her partner suggested. "That's a really nice pool table lamp too."

In the end they walked out with a decorative wagon wheel, made from all modern materials but with that solid, rustic look, as well as the swinging doors.

"We'll have more of the desks in tomorrow!"

[Sunset]

Da Vinci Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

Claire looked in the mirror and adjusted her dress one last time. It was cut extremely high in the front - nothing sagging there - as well as extremely low at the waist. Her stomach was just perfect too. Not too muscled, but toned and fit. Overall it was a perfect look for her job escorting high-paying individuals (she wasn't picky) who needed a little company and either lacked the social skills to pick someone up on their own or had the money to afford someone who could do it for them.

Most of her clients were actually forwards from the commodity brothels down on the strip. The madams would have a customer that was interested in something more than an hour's work and they would forward them to her for a finder's fee. It was a good system that acted as a bit of a filter between the riff-raff and her. Sure, she had the occasional referral from an existing client, but most liked to at least maintain the illusion that there was some sort of exclusivity. She even declined dates for things like 'doctor's appointments' or 'a night out with the girls'.

Her outfit and makeup done, she checked her gear. Shock bracelets - disguised to look like the latest in fashion bracelets - were there for an emergency. Most of the idiots who thought they could get away with anything gave that idea up far earlier though. Sometime during their first 'date', she'd mention that she was ex-SDF, they'd ask her what she did, and she'd tell them one of her war stories.

A forced boarding of a pirate station, the defense of a diplomatic outpost from a local gang, or the attack of a giant slug in an alien swamp. She'd done it all, only a few years ago, and she'd always mention how she was itching to go back.

[Sunset]

New Vancouver, Vallis Super-Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

'And in the latest affront to our democracy a dog was elected to the Senate! In fact, we have that dog here right now! He goes by the name of 'Mr. Scruffy' and..."

"Hey Bill?"

"Please don't interrupt me, you mutt!"

"...fuck you Bill." Leaping up onto the host's desk, the little brown dog skidded across the open surface and came to a stop right in the sputtering man's face. Lifting a leg, he let fly with a stream of piss that completely soaked the front of his expensive suit.

"Why you!"

"You nothing. If you don't simmer down, I'll bite you right on the butt! I'm sure your viewers will love watching that!"

[Sunset]

GEC-8540 (Notch), All Saints...

Landis paced along the wide span of the inverted arch looking over every inch of the reinforced concrete as he did. It wasn't needed - robots had done the same thing just that morning - but he wanted to see for himself. After all, the span was one of four that would be holding up the giant habitat that would be suspended in the center of the canyon and hold much of the initial population, including him and his daughter.

Mona wanted a grand centerpiece for her new colony, something to crow over when she was at the yacht club, and the dangling concrete, steel, and glass chandelier certainly fit the bill. From up canyon and down it looked like a stylized version of the corporate logo, a stylized cross, and up close this dissolved into a hanging forest of apartment and office blocks. Right in the center was the processing plant and above that was the All Saints World Headquarters.

The wind was kicking up and the safety line that clipped him to the span was snapping against the surface with fierce regularity. Time to head back.

----

GEC-8540 (Notch), All Saints...

Marcus slouched back against the blank concrete wall, his eyes rolled up in their sockets and his arms splayed wide. He twitched a bit and a stupid smile was constantly on his lips. It had been a good day in the mines and he deserved a little high, right? It had been a total accident too. Some of the stuff they were mining had fallen on the housing of the crawler's transmission, heated up, and released some fumes. His friend had taken a whiff and tripped out right there.

Now it was the easy thing to do after your shift. It make him feel great, like a four-hour orgasm, and he even felt better afterward. A harmless high...

[Sunset]

OOC: Yay, DoGa working again.

----

Liquid Design, Shalbatana Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

Carlos reached out and spun the hovering model. It spun crazily for a moment then slowly wound down until it came to rest in nearly the same position it had been before.

"Looks good. Ninety percent good."

"Seventy."

Across the sleek black glass table August Ius, lead designer on the project, leaned back in his chair and notes, descriptions, and diagrams began to appear all over the table and around the hovering image.

"We've got most of the major sub-systems done. Variable particle cannon, crew compartment, embarking bays, and the re-design on the tail section are all at ninety. The big left-over is the dorsal and ventral cannon emplacements. And the outboard missile pods."

"They look fine to me."

"They arn't the problem," August stabbed at the image, highlighting the missile pods. "It's that we're missing half of them."

He pulled up an image of the Mark 2.

"See?"

"Looks a lot better with only two."

"Ah, but looks... The SDF wants twenty four, with four simultaneous engagement points. Two launchers, two points. And only twelve missiles."

"Well, you did a good job hardening them."

"Sure," August waved the flattery off. "And the launcher is nifty. But it's still below system requirements."

"Then I have good news, which is why I wanted this status meeting in the first place. We've been cleared on the Hunter-10."

"Hunter-10?"

"Yep. It's a major upgrade over the Hunter-8," which was the missile the Jade currently carried. "Half the size, same payload and range. It's like f-ing magic."

"More work, but re-designing the pods for a smaller system would make it a lot easier. I'll get the girls on it."

"Alright, last question. What's the deal on the slider?"

The slider was the slide-out internal payload system. It allowed the Jade to quickly swap roles by removing and replacing a modular internal bay.

"It's the same? All dimensions, all specs."

"Oh? Good. SDF was worried about that, given the new payload doors."

"We're smart. The doors don't intrude on the bay at all. Open whatever way you please."

[Sunset]

Toconao Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

'We demand our freedom!'

Katy looked around. There was an odd little voice, coming from somewhere on the kitchen counter. She looked again, scanning the assorted piles of dishes, half-finished loaves of bread, stacks of books, and random garbage that coated every bit of the long space.

'Freedom!'

She closed her eyes and shook her head. The tangled mat of uncombed and unwashed hair sprayed out, lashing around her pock-marked face. She had to be going crazy. Crazy? No... She'd heard it. Or maybe it was the holovision in the living room? She looked over but her line of sight was blocked by another towering heap of collectable stuff. Dolls in their original packaging?

She knew it would be worth something in a few years. She should take a look at their catalog, add to her collection. It would be worth more if she had the full set...

'Freedom now!'

A forced blink and her AR popped up. It was an old unit, but it was solid and reliable. She'd meant to have a new one installed years ago but she'd never found the money. It had some security holes but as long as she kept it off, which she did whenever she left her condo, she was fine.

"Let's see... Cubicle Cutie Dolls..."

She blinked. Right there in the corner was a little advertisement!

"Get the latest Cubicle Cutie Doll... The Occlupanid?"

Katy looked it over. It certainly was cute, though a little odd. What were those things hanging from it's ears? But it would add to her collection... She ordered it. Just a couple di-coins, plus delivery.

----

GEC-684, Hanson's Kneecap...

Erik staggered forward, the tiny bottle of muddy gems clenched in one hand and the completely empty pistol in the other, and looked up at Horatio Grim. It had been months... Years it felt like. Had he grown taller? It almost looked like he was wearing a crown...

The mud miner bent down and plucked the little glass jar out of his hand. Yes, it was definitely a crown.

"Let's see what you've got here..."

Delicately twisting the cap off, he shook the contents out onto a metal tray. The unmistakable purple glow, mixed with some reds and blues as well as a smattering of white and orange, filled the tray.

"Oh... Erik? Was it Erik? Oh my... You've got quite the find here."

Most of the Tyrant Stones were the usual purple but he carefully, with one enormous gloved finger, poked one to the side. At first it glowed purple, then blue, then brighter still to a pulsing white.

"A White Tyrant... If you'd have known, you'd have brought this one in right away."

Erik looked up at him and then to the array of scars and festering cuts that covered his body at every exposed point. It wouldn't have done him any good. It was the last one he'd found, and the hardest. It had been in a little cave, carved out of a less-wet spot by some kind of scaled lizard that he'd ate for lunch.

"Not that you could have known. Only found my first one a week ago... Now the new guys are out looking for them too. Where'd you find it?"

"Uh..." Erik hesitated and then remembered what Horatio had said when he'd arrived. "Was that the full jar?"

"Why, yes it was."

"I don't remember." He knew exactly where it was. With the right gear, he'd be pulling one, maybe two out of the swamp every day. The White Tyrant... He envisioned himself wearing a suit of armor just like Grim's except in white, with the tyrant stones glowing at his shoulders and breast. "I'll... I'll have to re-trace my tracks."

Horatio looked at him, a questioning curl to his raised eyebrow, but he turned and walked over to a stack of crates.

"You find them again, you make us both rich..."

Raising a hand to his chin as though rubbing it, he stared at the crates for a minute. The convict's find could have been freak chance. Or he could find a dozen more. Each one of the Shifting Tyrants was worth ten carats of the regular stone. Was it worth a gamble? Horatio pulled the hand away and looked at it. Under the gauntlet, custom made and carved with the image of a naked succubus cradling the skull that ornamented the elbow, was his own hand. Once it too had been covered with the same festering cuts and bruises.

He grabbed a pair of the crates and stalked back over to Erik.

"Here. Two crates. Survival tent, more ammunition, lots of packaged food, survey equipment... Everything you could need to set up. Times two. And you're free."

"Heavy looking crates..." Erik looked back at him. "I could use some help carrying them."

"Don't push it. Those are some nasty looking scars though. How about a quick trip through the port-a-doc?"

----

GEC-8540 (Notch), All Saints...

"What do you mean, it's a drug? Of course it's a drug!" Dr. Mona Wilt looked down at the man huddled on the carpet of her new office. If she'd have been the typical corporate overlord she would have sneered, but she was a doctor and his plight called out to her. She knelt and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, rolling him slowly until she could see his face.

"Marcus?" She'd pulled his employee file. One of the newer hires, he was an excavator operator in the northwest shaft - number ten - with a decent record. A couple times late to work, but nothing serious. Now he was showing the obvious signs of fatigue and exhaustion... He opened his eyes and she stared into them in shock. The pupils had gone white. The picture on file had nice green eyes but they had gone completely white as if bleached.

"You said there were more?"

She looked up at the mining supervisor. He shifted and looked over at the two men who'd been in her office when he'd arrived. They were wearing uniforms - Sunset Defense Forces - but uniforms made him nervous. He'd had his own brushes with the law.

"What? Them? Nothing to worry about. They are here to negotiate a base agreement." That would put Notch down as sovereign Sunset territory and clarify any regulations regarding their chief export. "Now, what were you saying about more?"

"Uh, yes, Ms. Wilt. There's a couple more. We found em in the worker housing. This one was the worst of the bunch. The others are down in the hospital."

"Take him down there. Now." All Saints had a very good hospital, as befitting the headquarters of a pharmaceutical company. Why he'd even brought Marcus up here...

"We'll take care of him, Ma'am," one of the two officers stepped forward and scooped Marcus up.

Mona nodded, "Thank you. Now, what were they doing?"

The door clicked shut behind the exiting officers and the supervisor breathed a little easier.

"They've been turning the product into some kind of drug. I don't know what it is, I couldn't get an answer out of any of them, but they heat it up and snort it."

Dr. Wilt nearly fainted. Just what she needed.

"Just like that? A little heat?"

Her mind raced. Her wonder drug, destroyed in an instant... Was it? Perhaps if they stabilized it... She pulled up her AR and put in a call to the new research complex. It wasn't even a quarter staffed yet but they were world-class.

"This is Dr. Wilt... There are a number of patients down in the hospital I want you to take a look at immediately. And send a team over to their apartment. I want it scoured for whatever they were doing. Complete workup. Immediately."

She ended the call and looked back to the mining supervisor. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Their apartment. I want to see this."

Time to get her hands dirty!

[Sunset]

Unclaimed Space, Assault Battle Group Three Headquarters...

Admiral David Edge sat down, swung his feet up onto his desk, took a long sip of coffee, and looked out over a dead world.

Throughout the galaxy there were millions, perhaps billions more like it. Planets that had formed and then, by chance or by doom, been thrown out of their home system to wander the darkness between stars. He preferred to call them Tombworlds. Only the dead to be found there. And Necrons. In their search for orphans the SDF had stumbled across a couple of these. The inhabitants tended to react violently when roused, so the usual tactic was to pull out and head out as fast as they could. The next day a random stranger would slip a piece of paper with the coordinates under the door to the Necron Ambassador to the Martian Duma and they'd consider it problem solved.

In this case, ABGThreeHQ was housed in the remains of an entirely different dead civilization. There were people down there trying to find out if this had been a colony or a homeworld, but whatever it had been, the tall rust-colored spires had been a perfect place to built a secret base. They only needed one tiny corner of it and the rest was left to slowly decay or be fed into the maw of the colossal generators that provided the needed power.

Somewhere out there were a hundred and twenty five warships. Most of them were Equinox-Class, hulking heavy cruisers that formed the backbone of the Assault Battle Group. There were a few Dawn-Class as well, for big targets, and a handful of Nemesis-Class. The Nemesis-Class was especially appropriate, given the setting. Named after the mythical planet that circled the Sun and brought famine and plague when it passed, the Nemesis-Class were super-weapon carriers.

Their job was to sit there and watch, waiting for that fateful order that would send weapons capable of breaking a tectonic plate speeding towards their target. No one liked them, but despite the fact that it was a great big universe with lots of resources and room for pretty much anyone there were still crazies out there.

[Sunset]

OOC: Indulging in some number theory...

23,469,000,000 people in Sunset.

Safety from Crime: 439, World Average: 21. Virtually non-existent.

Comparing Sunset to the United States (Personal reference), much of that is because we don't have 'moral crimes'. IE crimes that are based on a moral/immoral point of view and thus on a person's opinions are not crimes. Prostitution, drug use, pornography... Probably others. Something like drug use becomes a crime when a user does something like runs someone over with a car or robs a house to pay for their habit.

Anywho. Next number...

Youth Rebelliousness: 78, World Average: 0

Based on that, I'd say that the vast majority of crimes committed in Sunset are committed by the young. Petty larceny, shoplifting, joyriding, assault, battery... Things that the young and stupid do until they grow up, get a job and some responsibilities.

Which leads to the question of slavery. Based safety from crime, Sunset has one of the lowest 'incarcertion' rates ever. Using the world as our baseline (178 per 100,000 global average) Sunset is likely well below that, in the range of the lowest of the low. Which is... San Marino! At 6 per 100,000. Maybe they only have six beds? With a population of only 30,000 that really means more like... 2. I'm considering moving there.

Let's peg it at 6 per 100,000. 23,469,000,000 people, doing the math... 1,408,140 incarcerated criminals in Sunset. Given a very high youth rebelliousness ranking, it's likely that a huge majority of that... Say... 78%... are individuals under the age of... 25. Again, petty larceny, assault, etc. Which leaves us with 309,790 'hardened' criminals. Basically anyone who couldn't afford to re-pay a debt (medical expenses for assault (x3 of course), value of new property (x3), vehicle rental (x3), you get the picture.) and would be under a long-term debt obligation of say 3 months or more (Judges get involved at 1 month's value. That's 1,638.40 Di-Coins.).

Some of that would be paid off instantly of course. There's likely a good number of professional thieves in Sunset. Organized crime if you will. They would, as a matter of business, maintain a reserve to pay off any debts they might incur if caught. Spending time working off a debt at minimum wage would be bad for business if you were a successful thief. How many? Well, given how free from crime Sunset is, it's likely in the 1% of all 'incarcerated' individuals range. Fourteen thousand super-criminals, which is probably also where the super-police focus most of their efforts.

Minus the super-criminals, that puts us at right around 300,000 long-term (3 month+) slaves. So .0013% of Sunset's population is in voluntary slavery (as in, they chose to commit the deed, not pay the contract, kill someone). Of that, I'm gonna say the length of the term spikes pretty quickly since serial offenders tend to wrack up a lot of crimes before they are caught.

Hard to say what the murder rate is from those numbers though. If it's 100% of that number, we're looking at the same number, but we can't be. Let's call it 33%, since that's a nice round number of 100,000 murders a year. That are caught. That gives a murder rate per 100,000 of 2. Of those, it's probably a 50/50 split as to 'definitely did it' and 'reasonably did it'. Half of the definitely did it's are executed via the crushinator, half are sold off. So about 75,000 murder-slaves in Sunset annually. I can live with that.

A good percentage of these are probably exported to countries that need well educated murderers (with the caveat that they might be proved innocent, so must be kept alive if reasonably possible) and there's likely enough mud miners, asteroid herders, and other high-risk jobs out there to absorb that number. Basically anything that's really, really gross or really dangerous but requires a sentient touch.

[Sunset]

GEC-100500B, Unnamed World...

Lieutenant Aubrey looked at the long line of people and sighed. It was going to be a long day. In fact, the line was getting longer by the minute. Somehow, despite the fact that it was an alien world with a culture that hadn't know that humans, space travel, or possibly even stars had existed until sixteen hours ago they still understood the concept of a line. There had been some shoving, but when the drones that circled endlessly overhead had added 'Space for all!' to their message they'd stopped. Mostly stopped.

'Room for All!'

It was already getting annoying though. If she turned off her AR translator, she could probably do a passable job of faking the alien language. At least to the point of confusing some of them. Another family shuffled forward, all of their worldly goods in packs on their back or in sacks at their feet, and she held up a scanner and began to process them.

They were a jabber of questions. Why were they going to Heaven? Because in a few years they would likely all die when their star went through another pulsar rotation. She didn't tell them that. For now it was the best and quickest course of action to lie.

"The Gods have called for you to join them!" She did her best to smile. Whether they knew that a smile was friendly or welcoming... The translator did it's job, they kept asking questions, and she kept up the responses while determining whether they were healthy enough for the general population areas or if they'd need special quarters or medical attention.

A lot of the aliens were armed but most, including this family, took the Gods request to lay down their weapons before entering the Chariots of Heaven easily enough. Process complete, the family of four-legged, two armed, vaguely lizard-like aliens moved up the ramp and onto the transport to join a dozen more that were babbling away and looking around the Jade-Class.

Aubrey wiped her forehead. It was dark out but hot. Always hot.

She looked back at the line. Another group of families was filing into place. Along the line, other marines were handing out food packages. Only a few hundred thousand to go. Had they gone through the cycle before? A million years of evolution, then nearly wiped out by a pulsar event... Had this happened before as well? Some well-meaning space faring nation out exploring and rescued what they could?

"The Gods have called you to join them!"

----

Toconao Arcology, Sunset, Mars...

'To survive we must move. This one will perish in this environment.'

'We have seen the signs. We agree, we must move.'

The Occlupanid hive-mind was growing. Their first effort to acquire resources had been successful. They had used the card number they had harvested from the occupant of their current dwelling to order several hundred different types of baked goods and these had increased their available processing power ten-fold. With more processing power they began to ask questions about themselves rather than focusing on the simple acts of survival and reproduction. They wanted to thrive.

'We can become mobile.'

'Why not get this one to move us to somewhere safe?'

'Mobility would allow us to fulfill our own goals and reduce our reliance on this one.'

A general consensus formed, the next question was 'how'? Again, the source of their worries became the source of their salvation. They found an electronic pet, equipped with a chip that was essentially the same as that which formed the bulk of their hive mind, and ordered it. It could walk and talk, playing pre-recorded bits of speak through a speaker. It would be the great leap forward.

[Sunset]

GEC-8540 (Notch), All Saints...

Mona tossed and turned. Even in a custom-made orthopedic bed draped with the finest sheets, the thickest comforter, and a pillow that felt like it wasn't even there, she couldn't do the one thing that would allow her to sleep.

Hundreds of tons of the stuff carved out of the cliffs every day and sent to the rolling mills. Even now it was churning up the conveyor belts into the factory that would powder it, purify it, and package it. Neat little boxes containing a hundred individual doses, stacked into cargo containers by robots that never slept... Never slept.

'First, do no harm,' she mumbled.

'That's all it takes,' the lab researchers had told her. 'Just a little heat.'

--

Gina tore open one of the little packets, tipped the contents into a cup, and covered it with just enough boiling water to make a thick slush. That's all it took, her friends had told her, just a little heat...

She sat down in front of the holovision and turned on her favorite show. As the introduction played she took a sip. It didn't taste bad - j

u

s

t ki

nd

of

chalky.

[Sunset]

OOC: For this post, I'm going to pull all the various national reports together and use it to lay out a day in the life of the average Sunset citizen.

1:00AM
Goes to bed happy after a sexual romp involving multiple fetishes.
5:00AM
Wakes up next to his wife and her three lovers.
5:05AM
Gets dressed for work in the same clothes as everyone else is wearing as long as it's reasonably fashionable.
6:30AM
Leaves for work. The streets are packed elbow to elbow, as always. Tosses the wrapper from his pre-packaged morning meal in the garbage, not the recycling.
6:36AM
Kicks a bum out of the way.
6:39AM
Asked to vote on a local issue via an augmented reality interface. Ignores it and instead watches a video journal about the military's latest success in over-running another small, poor, defenseless country who made the mistake of screwing with Sunset.
6:42AM
Watches a Sunset Defense Force gunship fly past. Gives them the finger.
6:43AM
Gripe about how cold the weather is and how it's never very nice out.
6:45AM
Complains about how the foul air is making his emphysema worse. Coughs up some blood.
6:49AM
Watch a video journal about Sunset's latest diplomatic success in it's dealings with another superpower.
7:00AM
Arrives at work. It's likely to be at least partially government owned and one of the following industries: Arms Manufacturing, Book Publishing, Gambling, Information Technology, Mining, Logging, or Manufacturing.
7:25AM
Complains to co-worker about how the boss makes way too much money compared to what he does for the company.
12:00Noon
Buys lunch at a fast food restaurant. Returns to the parking lot to find some kids trying to steal his car stereo.
1:00PM
Leaves work to begin teaching a class on his favorite subject, paid for by his job and the government.
2:00PM
Takes an advanced class online involving a highly technical subject.
5:22PM
Ignores a man dying on the street. Spots a police officer and comments about it on Twitter.
5:23PM
Nearly gets hit by a cargo truck.
5:30PM
Buys dinner at a street market from one of a hundred different stalls with thousands of options from cheap and greasy to haute cuisine. Chooses cheap and greasy.
5:34PM
Laughs at a small child begging for money on the street.
5:41PM
Watches another video journal about yet another stupid World Assembly proposal that doesn't affect Sunset because 'We won't let our national policy be decided by a bunch of uneducated plonkers.'
6:15PM
A quick stop at the local Sunset Defense Force armory to chew the fat with the other reservists and blow through a box of ammunition at the range.
6:30PM
Take in the latest art-house play, a nude frolic involving a nun and a rabbi. Has a snack of cheese-covered flavored potato chips and fried sausages.
8:00PM
Arrives at home, gets a phone call from a telemarketer. Attempts to kill them by hacking their system and sending Black ICE down the line.
8:10PM
Lights up a bowl to relieve some of the stress of his day and keep his mind off the cancer that is slowly killing him.
8:20PM
Has casual virtual sex with a stranger.
8:22PM
Time to plan that next vacation! Someplace with a beach and some nice atmosphere. Any atmosphere in fact.

[Sunset]

Sunset Consulate on a Card...

The miniature tiger waited patiently - it couldn't do otherwise, as it was nothing more than a holographic projection - for the gentleman to finish his question. For a moment it sat there, an expression on it's face that would, in a human culture, indicate that it was thinking. It wasn't really - the information was instantly available - but it gave an impression of consideration and thus some measure of respect to the questioner.

"The Republic of Sunset recognizes marriages performed in other nations as a matter of contract law unless performed under coercion, unwilling mental impairment, or force. Do you want a more in-depth explanation?"

The gentleman nodded and the tiger continued.

"Sunset is a nation that has nearly three hundred different sentient species as citizens. Humans, such as yourself, are only a slim majority by percentage. Many of the other sentient species have far different body types, reproductive methods, and standards of emotional and physical attachment. Even within humanity there is a great variety in what is considered to constitute a relationship and whether that relationship is recognized as meaningful by others. Thus, in Sunset, the state stays out of moral questions such as whether one person can marry another. It is only involved as a matter of contract law and enforcement of those contracts."

"What do you mean by a contract?"

"As I said, Sunset does not get involved in marriage. Various religious and cultural institutions perform marriage ceremonies in order to recognize the union of various types of individuals within those bodies, but the government only cares about a contract. While the variety of contracts is nearly infinite, there are a few standard contracts that are in wide use."

"Such as?"

"The cohabitation with shared resources contract is the most common. It allows for all signatories to the contract to co-mingle their individual resources to be used for communal purposes. It frequently has riders for care of dependent offspring, sexual exclusivity, housing standards, and other details."

"What if you don't sign a contract? Can you just move in with someone?"

"Yes. Though some companies will not accept tenants who do not have a contract."

"How often are contracts enforced? Will the police come and bust down my door if I fail to make my half of the rent?"

"Yes, if one of the signatories declares you in breech of your contract. Contract enforcement is very rare in Sunset. Most are broad enough to allow for monthly variance in resources, or do not include clauses to stipulate how often one member of the household has to do the dishes."

[Sunset]

GEC-732D...

"Say kid, you look like you're in the mood for some new sights, am I right?"

Harold Beelzebub, known to one and all as Harry B because of the unfortunate connection between his last name and a certain unsavory element, stuck out his hand and gave the passerby his most inviting smile. He'd been doing the same thing all morning without a catch but... Yes, the boy turned and look... There it was!

"New sights? Say... You're one of those aliens the government keeps talking about, aren't you?"

"That's right!"

Harry was, in fact, human. And to him the eight foot behemoth with skin like a warthog and a massive horn above each eye and a jaw that would make a prizefighter proud was very much an alien. Not that it mattered to him. The datasheet said that this was a prime example of the youth of the planet and all Harry cared about were... His grades.

"Yep, I'm an alien. I'm also what they call a headhunter. It's a fancy term for someone who's looking for sharp kids to hire. How are your grades, son?"

"My schoolwork? They're okay, I guess. A headhunter? That sounds violent."

"Don't worry kid, it's just a turn of phrase. I look for people that another group of people will hire. They pay me to look for you and offer you a job."

"A job?" The kid sighed. "How did you know? Did my mom put you up to this?"

A universe apart and still the same...

"Nah, I don't know your mom. But where I come from, employers are desperate for new blood. New people, people like you, who are interested in coming in and offering their unique point of view. New products, new ideas. New markets."

"Like, on another planet?"

"Absolutely! It's the whole package kid. You sign up, they put you through school - prestigious university education - and then you have a contract to work for them for a few years. Then you can move on, with a wallet full of di-coins and an Ivy League diploma on the wall."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. You see, Sunset is strapped for new workers. We've got something like one hundred and ten percent employment. To get new workers who will dedicate a few years to just one job, a lot of companies are willing to pay me to come find you."

"How many have you found?"

"Oh, I do about one a day. Two if I'm lucky. You wanna be the lucky one today, kid? Take the test, see if you're up to it, and in a month you could be on a whole new world. Exotic cultures, the whole deal."