Interstellar Traveling Trade Exhibition [GCC/Invite Only]

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Compulsory Consumerist State

Interstellar Traveling Trade Exhibition [GCC/Invite Only]

Postby Thrashia » Tue Aug 28, 2018 11:56 am

OOC Note: This thread is for GCC members and those invited only. Please do not post unless you are authorized to do so. If you wish to join, please send a request to Telros. We're all in the Gunsmoke Lounge on Discord.

Commercia System | Vismanus Sector (Q,V) | Thrashian Empire
5.08.049 of the New Galactic Era

The system was one that truly lived up to it's name. Every cycle of the local star shed light on the hundreds of thousands of vessels that arrived and departed each day. Some had been eager to name it simply 'Gate', as it was the location of two separate interstellar gate travel network nodes -- the system allowed to have them within the entire Empire. But money spoke louder even than the astrolithic constructs that were the Nassau and G.C.C. network gates. Kuat Drive Yards had devoted more than a generous sum in order to gain proprietary access to all government contracts for the system. Kuat Freight Port, a subsidiary, was alone responsible for the transport of goods and materials between Port Croesus and the rest of the sector, and beyond; their cargo vessels making up nearly sixty-seven percent of all the system's daily traffic at any given time. Passenger liners, freight haulers, personal yachts, courier sloops, warships, and even single-seat ships; they crowded in and about, but in a carefully orchestrated and managed system that would on it's own be a marvel of logistics, on par with the greatest physical construct ever made, or lauded scientific discovery. No fewer than five mega-computers, acting as the container for five of the greatest AI in the Empire, were devoted to that logistical nightmare turned ballet.

Four planetary bodies were in the system, only one of which was capable of supporting life. The others were lumps of gas, minerals, or rock. Each of them, without reservation, had been taken over and converted to some use. Each of the "lifeless rocks" were turned into giant warehouses; warehouses on a planetary scale. Trillions of tons of cargo passed through their oxygen-less void halls, a few human workers overseeing a workforce of droids and programmed algorithms. Transport drones the size of TIE Fighters buzzed through their respective atmospheres, transporting such goods as did not warrant the need for a larger mass cargo conveyor.

Due perhaps to a flight of whimsy, the only habitable planet in the system had been named after an ancient Earth myth. Historical records were not entirely set on whether it had existed the way that some poets painted it, but it was firmly enough planted in the historical record as to not be discounted completely. Samarkand was a beautiful planet, made that way by design. It was converted to be temperate and warm near it's equator, freezing and biting cold at it's poles. It's oceans were teaming with life, equally designed by geneticists from a KDY subsidiary. The cities that dotted it's surface were large and sprawling, yet not in a displeasing fashion. The capitol city of Nishapur was a model of that illustrious, sublime, and -- some might say garish -- desire for bliss. Marble veined with gleaming crystal could be found as the base building blocks of the smallest home. The grand colosseum near the city's heart could easily contain a million visitors, with holo-drones catching every microsecond of action taking place and on display. Hotels reached to the very heavens, with orbital elevators enabling a guest to park their star vessels in convenient and secure orbital stations.

Between the outer warehouse planetoids and the golden, idyllic Samarkand was what truly brought people to the system.

Each of the interstellar gates was on opposite ends of the same orbital path, designed so that they never were closer than four hundred million kilometers. Each had been built upon a similar pattern, though the older Nassau Gate was slightly smaller.

The Nassau Gate was ten kilometers in diameter, it's eyeglasses formation attached to an accompanying station that oversaw it's core systems. A network of Golan Arms Defense platforms surrounded the gate, with designated astral holographic projections helping to guide the various species and vessels that exited and entered the gates. Squadrons of TIE Interceptors, Intersector-class Patrol Ships, and even the occasional Vindicator Cruiser would sit on station, helping to oversee and police the movement as dictated by the needs and merits of the Aigo, the system AI collective.

Different in little else but size was the G.C.C. gate. The two portals were each fifteen kilometers in diameter, forged together by a central axis station that was likewise linked to the Aigo as well as the main power source for both it and the Nassau Gate -- the system's Dyson Ring, which had been built with the aid of New Dornalian contractors. A cordon of Golan platforms was equally watchful and actively managing the traffic that was moving in and out.

Central to all of this was Croesus Station.

Equidistant between the two gates, Croesus Station was the heart of the logistical carnival that was constantly taking place. Aigo was placed there, at the heart of the fifty-kilometer long station. It was shaped in the form of a cube; sheer simplicity and ease of construction being the cause for that aesthetic choice. Vessels that were flagged as 'free to continue' were directed further on to Croesus. From there they were categorized into separate groups.

Trade vessels and the like would be directed to the various depot stations that hung in the station's orbit, dropping off or directly transporting goods to local vessels; or sent to rendezvous at one of the warehouse planetoids. Moff Banston Creed's sector fleet had a strong presence in the system as well. Overlooking Croesus Station and patrolling the edges of the system were no less than six Imperial-class and two Allegiance-class Star Destroyers, with their accompanying escorts. It wasn't unusual for them to shadow craft from time to time, helping the local enforcement agencies if anything was of immediate danger.

Personal craft and passengers would be parked or dropped off onto Croesus directly, processed by the Imperial Immigration Services. Certain peoples would be given a simple electro-stamp in their passports, such as Dornalian families seeking to 'figure out what exactly a bantha steak is'; others would be given visas for various periods of stay depending on their nation and request. Scholars and students had slight preferential treatment, the cost of the visa processing being half what it was for a regular visitor; five credits instead of ten.

Fine restaurants, amusement parks, theaters, adult establishments, and other forms of entertainment crowded the halls of Croesus; the staff continually trying their best to find ways to keep visitors distracted from any long wait they might have to endure.

And this day of all days saw some of the longest wait times in the station's, thus far short, history.

To commemorate the activation of the Galactic Commerce Corridor gate and the Empire's joining of that organization, a grand spectacle of sorts had been arranged. It had been the brain child of the Empire's Director of the Imperial Treasury and Taxation Bureau, Josef Vetzer. "A trade exhibition, your Majesty! A trade showcase! From every corner and nook of the G.C.C network -- as well as from our own Empire -- will take part. The latest products, services, and the chance to meet with industry partners and customers. It'll be an unparalleled chance to examine, directly, market trends and opportunities!" The idea had gone over quite well by all accounts. When the Imperial Foreign Ministry had suggested it to the other members of the GCC, there had been mutual assent and enthusiasm.

Moff Tiaan Jerjerrod, as head of the Foreign Ministry, had overseen the welcome and arrival of representatives from nearly all member nations of the GCC, welcoming them in the name of Empress Dheinalia Nuruodo. Luxurious suites that had been created for the express purpose of housing and entertaining foreign dignitaries and guests of great importance had been allotted them aboard Croesus Station. They had been arriving for weeks, with the Dornalian representative having been earliest and, thus far, the drunkest. Croesus Station security teams had had to break up no less than three bar fights between the Dornalian delegation and some other group, usually as a result of a dispute over an athletic sport result or gambling finale.

Finally, the Aureus was ready.

The Aureus was not your normal vessel. For starters, it was converted. It's base, birth form had been that of an Executor-class Super Star Destroyer. More than half of it's weaponry had been stripped out. Internal space had been modified to fit a number of requested changes. There was a ten kilometer race track inside the ship, capable of fielding a pod race, now. At least a dozen restaurants from each respective nation had been given allotments within the ship; 'Restaurant Row' now being the name given to the thoroughfare and ship-level that ran for two kilometers in the center of the ship. Every major industry from advanced genetic-augmentation, to children's toys, to energy creation and storage, to artificial holo-dramas, there was an area given over to their products.

In the highest levels of the ship, nearer to the bridge, were the diplomatic sections. Trade representatives and other governmental officials were housed there. Their apartments had been built to their specifications and requests -- though KDY had taken umbrage at the Dornalian request for a "golden shitter".

The vast majority of the Aureus's crew was composed of droids and AIs. The ship's prime AI was called "Nelson" and it oversaw the maintenance and upkeep of the ship's operations. The fleshier crew were composed of Thrashians and a few other GCC members that had, previously, been allies of the Empire. The captain of the vessel was none other than retired-Admiral Voss Parck, who had agreed to take the post at the behest of the Empress.

While the ship's crew were mostly Thrashian, the security forces on board had been augmented for a more interstellar composition. Each nation of the GCC network had been invited to bring a full company of their soldiery and up to three fighter squadrons, or analogs thereof. The task force was under a rotational command, each member nation's company commander being in -- nominal -- command for a period of forty-eight hours. Supplementing this force were battle droids, most of which were kept in storage.

Aureus Main Hangar Bay

Minister Andren Harn stood at a close approximation of attention. He was the appointed senior Thrashian diplomat and trade representative aboard the Aureus and the one who'd be traveling aboard the vessel as it made it's way throughout the entire GCC network at large. It was, to be fair, a great honor to be appointed as such; with plenipotentiary powers and confidence of the Empress placed in him. However, that was enough to make his head go dizzy. He wished fervently that he'd been able to convince Moff Jerjerrod to change his mind about his selection. Andren mentally sighed, again.

The snapping of armored boots brought his head back around to the present.

An entire company of white armored Thrashian clone troopers marched in sync down the thoroughfare of dignitaries and hanger-ons. Since they were the hosting nation and the ones who ponied up the cash for this little trade expo, the Thrashian company had been allowed prime place in the marching of the colors. The black and silver silk-woven banner of the Empire flew proudly at the the head of the formation. Next came the Dornalians, followed by the Roanians, Huerdaens, and others. All of the national banners and flags were assembled side by side once the marching was finished; each of the assembled companies standing next to the others, their stark differences of attire and weaponry in contrast to the unity of the moment.

He knew his cue when it came. Andren walked to a raised podium facing the assembled dignitaries, business people, and traders. There was raucous burst of music from the accompanying marching band, followed by applause from the audience as he took his place. He settled his data pad on the podium, cleared his throat, and looked out at the assemblage of faces; so many varied hues and species. It was oddly humbling.

"First, on behalf of her Majesty, the Empress Dheinalia Vera Nuruodo of the Thrashian Empire, I welcome you one and all aboard the Aureus. It is a pleasure to welcome you and to have you all here and now for what I, and the Empire, hope will be the inauguration of an annual trade exhibition event like no other. May this journey be one of lasting prosperity and peace among our nations. Free commerce and the free exchange of ideas between our peoples, to pursue wealth and happiness -- that is what we seek. Let us all see and enjoy the treasures of this universe as displayed by our constituent members.

"I bid each of you to endeavor to find joy and a measure of wealth on this journey, whether that wealth be physical or spiritual in nature. Show all the wonders of our scientific efforts, the products of our imagination. Spirit us away into realms of pure imagination, that intoxicating place where money can buy just about all one could wish for. Such is our ambition and dream for this expedition."

Andren paused for a moment, letting his words sink in.

"Without further ado, let me leave you with these words: 'Let peace, descending from her native heaven, bid her olives spring amidst the joyful nations; and plenty, in league with commerce, scatter blessings from her copious hand!'"

He stepped back and bowed to the crowd. Applause sounded, though he imagined that it wasn't as loud as it could be. He stepped back into the crowd and his assistant, Lira, appeared at his shoulder.

"Excellent speech, sir." Her tone was neutral.

"Liar," he replied, walking through the crowd, exchanging greetings and pleasantries as he went.

"My name is Lira, sir. Pronounced 'Lira.' I can understand how you might be confused," she deadpanned.

"What's next on the docket?" Andren allowed a small smile, but otherwise ignored her riposte.

"There is the official launch party taking place on the Diplomatic Level, in the grand hall. There's to be an operatic display and entertainment from the Aumanians."

"Well, let's away to it shall we. Make sure the food is perfect and that you keep a steady flow of Bastion Ambrosia topped off in my glass." Andren didn't think he'd want to be too sensible before the night was over.

"Yes, sir."

The Aureus made a single circuit of the Commercia System before it made it's way inwards and plunged through the GCC gate. It's modified, 3.4km width easily fit through the portal. Their first stop: New Dornalia.
Last edited by Thrashia on Thu Sep 13, 2018 8:37 am, edited 4 times in total.
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New Dornalia
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Founded: Apr 27, 2005
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby New Dornalia » Sun Sep 23, 2018 6:14 pm


If the Aureus and its grand tour was meant to show off the best of each member, then the Dornalians didn’t disappoint.

Whatever prior eccentricities and rumblings the Dornalians on Croesus Station had caused, their initial entrance was certainly grand. The new Dornalian flag--the White Sun, Blue Sky, Red Eagle--waved alongside the others at the grand ceremony, carried in with so much pomp and circumstance.

To represent more fully the services involved--and the Dornalian contingent was made up of people from all the services, to keep everyone happy--the flag itself was carried by an honor guard from the Army. Clad in T-60 armor suits, they marched forward, with the flag bearer issuing commands to the other honor guardsmen to keep up. The T-60 suits were, as appropriate to the occasion, cleaned and shined to a tasteful degree, with a bit more chrome than usual. They certainly appeared quite large, compared to their Marine counterparts, but they looked like they could take plenty of hits--and keep going.

Following behind were a group of Marines, clad in their own power armor suits. These suits were slimmer than the Army’s suits, with a slightly more form fitting nature. However, they were still very much all business, with plates and a helmet which, in design, resembled that stereotypically Dornalian helm--the M1 Helmet--only with a full enclosure for the head and neck. They turned to the crowd and all assembled, and saluted all at once as they marked time. Following behind would be, lastly, a group of Naval personnel in their best dress uniforms.

The Dornalian company would be the very model of spit and polish this day, and as they got the flag to where it needed to go, they assembled next to the other companies, standing ramrod-straight as the ceremonies went on.

Speeches and glories aside, the assembled Dornalians in the crowd--a motley crew of various Dornalian civilians from industry, government, and otherwise--were clapping and following along.

One of them was a man who was decidedly….not photogenic. He had an unusually pronounced nose, thick eyebrows, a rounded, frumpy jowl line and a pointed chin. He wore a suit rather well, but he had a nervous, intelligent energy about him that seemed to take in the environment. He seemed to look at others, expecting the worst out of them. And yet, he also seemed to analyze everything as he witnessed the environment around him. On his lap, there was a surprisingly archaic item--a foolscap sized legal pad, with yellow lined print and a pen, upon which he took notes on the proceedings. He had a press pass, on his neck, one with a somewhat unflattering image he had taken to get the pass secured.

The overall head honcho of the Dornalian side of things was particularly involved in the crowd, clapping along with the others. He was a tall, athletic man, balding, but with a very well trimmed beard, pince-nez glasses, and a nicely tailored suit. He was from the Department of State, as was appropriate, and his identification identified him as “Marcus Smithers”.

As Smithers heard Harn speak, he looked at the various contingents and the others in the crowd. It was quite a scene alright, having all these various nations together in one spot. Hopefully, they would all focus on the point of the GCC mission, which was presumably to show off the wares of various nations and to promote peace. Having thought of that, he knew that the membership didn’t always get along on certain things. So, that would be interesting to navigate. Luckily, the State Department trusted him to do this job. After all, he was a ranking diplomat who was in charge of the GCC Desk at the State Department. Why wouldn’t they trust him?

Smithers turned to the man with the foolscap notepad, and said, noticing the man clapping, “How are you liking the proceedings so far, Mr. Nixon?”

Nixon said, his voice speaking with a bassy tone and a brief smile, “Well, Mr. Smithers, it’s very interesting. It’s good to get back on the international stage.” With a brief pause, Nixon added, as if apologetic to someone, “Even if it is as a mere….newsman, for the time being.”

“Well, Mr. Nixon, unlike most members of the press, I think your analysis and insight will make the most of this tour. I’ve read your articles on the Scythian-Eridani situation, and other events such as the implications of the SWC’s collapse and the formation of the GCC.” The tone seemed directed to try and reassure the hesitant journalist, especially as Smithers added, “Besides, you said so yourself. It’s good to get back on the international stage.”

“Indeed.” Nixon said with a brief nod, as he turned to the speech, listening with a keen ear. On the inside, he was glad for some opportunity to get out into the wild, outside of the studio where he broadcast--well, he called it a radio show, they called it a “podcast” or a “streaming program” or whatever it was. He found the terms limiting though. Since he started that whole business with The Nixon Hour, a call in show where he commented on international politics and matters of great policy, he had become something of a household name again. Just like his memory banks recalled.

And yet, his memory banks recalled toasts with bigwigs and power players, where he wasn’t on the sidelines but was rather one of the individuals making things happen. The memory banks also recalled an antagonistic relationship with the press---his memory banks would never let him forget his “last press conference”. And yet here he was. It was a supreme irony, and even if doing so allowed him to be an elder statesman and commentator on important events, it wasn’t something he was entirely reconciled to.

Still, this was where he was at right now. And so, Nixon wrote in his foolscap notepad, noting what he would be saying on tonight’s episode of The Nixon Hour....


The Dornalian contingent onboard the Aureus wasn’t disappointing either. The request for a “golden shitter” had indeed been denied--with a sternly worded letter that Mr. Smithers had to reply to with a contrite tone and an official warning for the Dornalian purchasing agent involved--but everything else was up to spec.

Indeed, the Dornalians had made their presence felt on the ship. There was the usual suite of offices and residences for the government and industry staff, but also there were other signs of the Dornalian presence. Exhibits from the Big Five were present, including a NORINCO booth which sold some of the most advanced weapons on the market, a complete GM dealership which sold all sorts of Dornalian vehicles (including the infamous SUV-cum-combat vehicle known as the Canyonero, from Chevrolet), as well as other booths where people offered items for sale of all kinds, civilian and military. And, there were of course, restaurants with Dornalian food, including bigger shops like the ever present Spiro’s Diner chain--with its smell of burgers, fries, pizzas and gyros--as well as some smaller, regional chains like Louie’s Donuts, with its infamous New Monterrey tea-and-bacon donuts.

There were other exhibits, of a less mercenary nature. For example, the State Department had set up a traveling version of the libraries they set up at various Dornalian embassies, with books of all sorts as well as quiet reading rooms. Nixon could be seen in the Dornalian Library, writing the script and notes for his latest episode of The Nixon Hour.

Where the other hangar bays were, three fighter squadrons from the Dornalian armed forces were present, mostly Navy. The fighter squadrons consisted of the usual Dornalian fighters--a mix of F-1 Azure (the “Cryssie” or “Crysanthea” series of fighters) and F-2 Garuda fighters, plus a squadron of heavier A-19 Mjolnir-Valkyrie transformable fighters.

All in all, the Dornalians did not skimp on a thing, although it was interesting to see them coming to Dornieland, first. Mr. Smithers knew that State Department had managed to get some space available above Dornalian Earth itself, so that people could come in and see the big show for themselves--and also, allow any of the persons onboard to take a look for themselves at the Jewel in the Dornalian Crown, so to speak.

Mr. Smithers knew of course, that he’d have to be careful. Again, not everyone in the GCC agreed on things…..but having to navigate complicated diplomatic waters was part of this job.
"New Dornalia, a living example of anomalous civilizations."-- Phoenix Conclave
"Your nation has always been ridiculous. But it's endearing."--Skaugra
"It's a magical place where chinese cowboys ply the star lanes to extract vast wealth from trade, where NORINCO isn't just an arms company, but an evil bond villain type conglomerate that hides in other nations. Where the apocalypse happened, and everyone went "huh, that's neat" and then got back to having catgirls and starships."-- Olimpiada
"...why am I space China, and I don't have actual magic animals, and you're space USA, and you do? This seems like a mistake." --Roania, during a discussion on wildlife.

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The Peninsular
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Founded: Apr 04, 2017
New York Times Democracy

Postby The Peninsular » Sun Oct 07, 2018 1:39 pm

On board the Aureus, Opening ceremony

Tri Sillson felt nervous. This was not due to some physical reason, or due to the crowd he was standing in. Rather, the foreign companies, the military contingents of the other nations, made him nervous. So far, he had noticed that every single one of the ones that had paraded already, did it as pompous as possible, their uniforms shining with gold, silver or other precious ornaments, and their armors polished like a mirror.

Not that the Peninsularian company looked bad, in fact, they had dressed up in their finest dress uniforms and armor. The problem, he figured, was that said uniforms and armors looked spectacularly unspectacular, and the rest of the parading troops would simply “outshine” them.

Just as Tri heard the music play, though, he could also hear a gasp going through the crowd. As he stood near the end of the walk and in the middle of the crowd, he at first couldn’t see what was going on. Climbing the stairs to a higher position, he saw it. A smile formed on his face. The detachment was not lead, as originally planned, by a unit of the Infantry.

Three meters high, their heads reaching almost up to the lowest spectator rank, and clad in full battle armor, the flag was carried by a unit of Demigryph troops. Not just any troop; the Demigryphs themselves wore the navy blue/silver armor of the Federal Guard, and the riders carried ornate halberds. Despite their size, their steps made almost no noise, given their claws were redacted.

Behind them, the rest of the detachment followed. Infantry marching in their typically bulky armor – repainted armor, as the regular mud color scheme was deemed too ugly for the international stage – and Navy personnel, dressed in their dark blue/white dress uniforms. As the detachment joined the rest of the companies, next to the Dornalians, the Demigryphs made up nicely for the rather unspectacular looks of the Infantry and Naval personnel, towering even above the Dornalian T60s.

As the ceremonies commenced, Tri managed to spot a familiar face near him in the crowd, Ratolf Wess, who had been on the organization committee for the Peninsularian presentations on the Aureus. He was an older man, of respectable looks, compared to the younger and dashing Tri. Walking over to Wess, Tri grinned. “Well, that’s what I call ‘making an impression’, Mr. Wess.”, he said. “Ah, Mr. Sillson! Pleasure to meet you. I reckon you’re wondering whether that with the Demigryphs was planned?” “Frankly, yes. I saw nothing of it on the plan.” “I see… Yes, they were a very recent addition. Just arrived yesterday, and hiding them from curious eyes even for 18 hours was damn hard. Apparently Demigryphs are straight out of the Aumani and Dornalian fantasy books. Just that they have wings in there.” He laughed.

“Either way, how are preparations going on your part?”, he asked Tri. “Better than expected. Northern Pharma and PenMed will do joint presentations, the first ones are planned for when we come to New Dornalia.”


After the festivities, the Peninsularian representatives did not stay up long. Liaso and Firis had very different day-and-night cycles from the one on the Aureus, and most of them still had to adapt to that. Subsequently, most returned to their quarters after the festivities, to get rest and fuel for the following days. The Peninsularian quarters were quite large – to the Peninsularian delegation, though, who were used to much less personal space. The rooms were decently sized, although smaller than what other delegations had (Tri had heard about the Dornalian suites) and outfitted nicely, resembling modern apartments. While the Peninsularian planning committee had wanted to keep extras at a reasonable level, each “apartment” had been allowed to issue one request for an extra, and in addition, put in proposals on a large extra, requested on behalf of the entire Peninsularian delegation. Many delegates and representatives, as well as their crews, had chosen special modifications in their apartments; except for their own rooms, the nature of these modifications was unknown to most people, since it was treated as private data and thus largely off limits. Tri, for his part, had requested an extra big high definition screen for his Dexiom II console to plug into. He and some other delegates had taken their gaming equipment with them, and had also gotten the Thrashians to install a high-speed LAN server for them.

The big extra, requested by the whole delegation, was, in fact, a sort of “private park”, although it was more like an area with lawn, some flowers and tiny artificial elevations. It was located in the center of the Peninsularian quarters, and, besides being a tiny park, it also had another use, which Tri discovered as he walked past it. On a part of the lawn, the enclosures for the Demigryphs, that had been such a short-term addition, had been set up. In practice, there was no real need to put enclosures around them as they were tame, and only attacked people when they were ordered to. However, the Thrashians had still warranted that a stun fence be put around that area.

The five Demigryphs could be seen either sleeping, eating or playing together with their riders – although a Demigryph could be absolutely terrifyingly lethal if it wanted to, they had much more personality and depth than cold killers. They had, on numerous occasions, been described by an Aumanii acquaintance of Tri as a “giant bird-head lion household cat-dog”. Indeed, their personality was fairly similar to that of a household cat and dog mixed together. This meant that, although they were effective war beasts, in their “free time”, they required care and entertainment in form of cuddling and games, such as fetch (with frisbees, mostly), puzzles and others. The rider of a Demigryph was not only responsible for combat, but also spent much of their free time together with their mounts, which, again much like dogs, had a deep emotional connection to them. Due to this, and due to the age of Demigryphs being up to 30 years, the job of Demi trooper was one for at least half a life.

Moving on from the green area, Tri continued down wide hallway, which was painted grey-blue (like most Peninsularian space station corridors), into the direction of his apartment. Multiple other men and women went into their apartments as well. Tri arrived at his door. It slid open as he swiped his key card along the panel at his right, and it closed behind him. After a short snack, toothbrushing and putting on pyjamas, he fell directly onto his wonderfully comfortable bed. They would have to get some much-needed rest, all reps and employees from all branches would have to; Tri himself was a representative for Northern Pharma, having worked in the R&D department of the company for a few years already. Tomorrow, the part of presenting, trying to get contracts/investors and impressing the galaxy would begin. Tri himself was a representative for Northern Pharma, having worked in the R&D department of the company for a few years already.

The delegation from the CFP that was supposed to impress the galaxy consisted of representatives of most industrial, cultural, governmental and military institutions and organizations of the Peninsular. The most notable organizations included PenMed, Northern Pharma, Polar MilTech, IDP, Coalition Engineering, and PAPU (Peninsularian Alcohol Producers Union), as well as representatives of the government’s foreign office; the Peninsularian transport, entertainment, tourist and game businesses were also represented, among other organizations like the PHS (Peninsularian Historical Society).

The directive of the government for the fair was “Impression through innovation, charm through culture, amaze through awesomeness”, and the businesses, institutions and organizations in the delegation wanted to make sure that directive was put into practice: PenMed and Northern Pharma had set up a huge stand, planning to perform live demonstrations of some of their newest and most high-tech products. Polar MilTech in association with Canao&Co. Small Arms had set up both an exhibit with military vehicles and guns for export, and had built a shooting range for both military reps and gun enthusiasts to test their weapons. IDP was showing off scaled-down high-detail models of its most impressive feats in architecture and infrastructure. Coalition Engineering and FDS had set up 10 meter long, scaled-down high-detail models of their best civilian and partly military ship designs that were for export, including, but not limited to, a new modernized Reliant transport, Systemhopper cruise ships and their many specialized, military and police variations. They had even rented holopods from the Phoenixi to provide a whole VR 3D tour of the ships’ interior. PAPU, PHS and other cultural organizations had set up an entire exhibition called “Explore the Peninsular”. PAPU also had a number of bars opened up which were serving Peninsularian alcohol.

There were also a number of Peninsularian restaurants throughout the ship, serving traditional Peninsularian food, in two versions: an adapted one for non-Peninsularians, coming as close to the original dish as possible, and the original one for Peninsularians. Certain Peninsularian version dishes could also be tried by non-Peninsularians normally, for example Peninsularian bread; however, every other original dish required the non-Peninsularian in question to sign a disclaimer, abandoning the right of compensation for possible damage to the signatory’s tasting senses.

At first and even at second glance though, the Peninsular seemed to be behind in terms of technology in most fields, and many foreign analysts had rated their chances of achieving resounding success at the fair with their technology firms as being basically non-existent or bad at best. They had rather given the best chances of attracting attention to their cultural exhibitions. And while they weren’t wrong, that the Peninsular was lacking behind in many, if not most fields of technology, they hadn’t really listened to what was rumored behind the scenes.

The CFP had an ace up their sleeve, and they would play it in New Dornalia.
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