Life on Mars

[Saarland-Vormser]

Saarland-Vormser has made contact with Martians. The Barren red planet was previously thought to be lifeless but Saarland-Vormser astronauts have made contact with them.

[Cadizia]

How about we set up a Volringiansteinholschigutten base on Mars

[Aelosia]

OOC:

www.s4.invisionfree.invalid.com/The_Planet_Mars

A board of NS nations in Mars, with a lot of roleplay and activity involved, just in case you are interested in reading some.

IC:

"Lifeless? If you think Mars is liveless, then you haven't been in a party near the Hellas Sea!, the music, the boys, the dancing, the drinks! I hope your astronauts know to value a good resort when you see it! Which martians did you contact?"

Known aelosian socialité Karelis Dior, after hearing of the "discovery" of Mars by Saarland-Vormser astronauts

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Saarland-Vormser has made contact with Martians. The Barren red planet was previously thought to be lifeless but Saarland-Vormser astronauts have made contact with them.

"Alright, who have they been talking to, and how soon do you really think we can expect yet more people in search of land rights?" Vasco Patroni muttered, arching a brow as he glanced at the brief news blurb.

"Honestly, I've no idea. No background info on the nation mentioned, no clear idea of intent yet. We'll be waiting, I suppose, to see if they even end up registering within our accepted sphere of what passes for reality," Celso Volonte, his assistant offered with a noncommittal shrug.

"Well, keep an eye on it, and we'll see where it goes. Granted, things have been quiet for a while, but that doesn't mean they'll remain so. Which reminds me - I'm in serious need of an update. Say, over lunch?" Patroni asked, gesturing to the door.

"Fantastic - so long as we can take in something other than the local commissary? I've of a mind to try something more resembling home." Celso gathered his things and stood, soon joined by his boss.

"Vitto's then - my treat."

"Damn right it is."

(ooc: Yep, up on the Mars Boards as well, just posting for interest - hope you don't mind. Also pointing out that there's quite a few of us who accept that there are a multitude of 'realities' out there, depending on who you care to rp with, and thus, your 'Mars' may not be our 'Mars' - though it can be fun to rp with large, established groups sometimes, should you care to.)

[Third Spanish States]

(OOC: Just a curiousity: Is ZMI still active there?)

Tucker, the city that never sleeps.

Tucker, the city that is always high.

It was ten o' clock of the night, in a soundproofed apartment. The strings of a distortion guitar began to sling back and forth heavily, its hypnotic riff playing in an improvised auditorium, where a small crowd gathered next to several white metal chairs layered through the living room, borrowed for nearby pubs and bars. Men and women with long hairs, leather jackets and black T-shirts, the usual metal fans, many whose eyes were rimmed from drugs, listened and danced to the music. What would a "head of state" do in an anarchy? Press rubber stamps over paperwork?

Cecily Lockhelm's solo wasn't outstanding, but decent and brutal enough to draw a crowd of death metal enthusiasts, mostly male, as her nimble fingers kept hitting the right notes in her guitar, and an amplifier made the sound so loud that despite the fact her apartment was an entire anechoic chamber, neighbors all had earplugs, and even the ground shook as she continued to play it. Horned signs were made and heads banged to the sound, as men would focus more on the music than on staring at her bosom during midway of her private show. A camera over the room, conveniently painted green to allow for the CGI wizkids to do their job, recorded the performance for the niche of enthusiasts who awaited for such clip. The video clip awesomeness far out-reached Cecily's skills in her hobby, and was heavily suggestive, as her clothing was. There were some many real spikes in such black, tight-fitting outfit it that she could impale someone with them, and she wore black sunglasses a used a black lipstick just to fit with it, although her skin was sufficiently tanned for it to not be filled under "Goth" grade stuff. In the edited video, legions of Anonymous would be massacred in all possible forms while she played and there would be a psychedelic scenery full of cheesy action, not particularly egocentric, as it was far too ridiculous to fit as a ego trip. The ears of a Stalin zombie would explode, she would blow a Nazi straw man with laser beams coming from her eyes and roast a capitalist pig(an humanoid pig with its skin filled with green $ that appeared in many of her clips, and led the furry fandom to despise her as much as she despises them) with the heat provoked by sound waves, and then in the end a blue screen of death would appear, until being blown apart by a Tux Mecha dressed as a metal head with a Rubik's Cube in his hand that would then explode, in a subtle advertisement of one of the most bizarre grenades ever invented by a military company, the MilNet Cooperative she belonged to.

She always swore it wasn't she who got the ideas for her clips. She was very happy when she performed, getting distracted from the rolling sludge of politics, but unfortunately duty always calls at the worst times, and the door was slammed open as a man in casual clothing shouted:

"Cut! I am sorry Cecily, but we got business..."

Cecily, openly demonstrated her frustration, took some time to stop the momentum of playing the guitar, and then she dropped it carefully over the ground of the stage, and looked at the man, her voice clearly demonstrating a sign of her annoyance, shared by all the expectators:

"Tell me now what are these business."

"I received reports of a nation making contact with Martians." the man replied promptly. Cecily became crimson of anger, sighing deeply as she realized the sort of bull such man has interrupted her to inform. Some people were already laughing at the sort of information that was passed, seemingly no longer annoyed, but amused

"I didn't ask for you to share your acid trip with us, Juán. Go back to your drugs and leave me alone!"

"But it is serious, this Saarland-Vormser..."

"Whatever it stated is less relevant than sundry from Luxembourg's smallest town, and besides, how could a nation such small for us to never have heard about have resources to explore Mars? Now, unless you find credible news about someone finding Oil in Mars, just leave us, Okay? Also my shift already is over, so unless there is a nuclear warhead heading to us, I don't want to be bothered after four o' clock in the afternoon." Cecily never heard about such nation, in fact, from her Geography class, its location couldn't even be found in their maps, probably because it did not belong to their Earth and was not relevant enough, as of now, to guarantee their attention.

"All right, carry on with your video. I just thought this could be interesting enough." the man left the room, and closed the door. Cecily took her guitar, and finished her performance. As the show was just ending, maybe because she was already under the effect of some drug, or perhaps because she was crazy enough, while she took a rapier, in the end of her performance, to fight a make-believe were-rat dressed as a fascist soldier, Cecily took a jar that was hid behind her, and pulled an unborn fetus from a rat from it, swallowing it in the front of the crowd, while the clip was recorded, the were-rat was dissolved after she swallowed the real thing. It was not tasty... but Cecily Lockhelm is Cecily Lockhelm, and who knows what sort of crazy stuff she was exposed to?

[Klingonum]

Klingonum has also made contact with the Martians. They identify themselves as the Empire of Golden Mars. Klingonum has enslaved many of their cities and they now give us Tribute.

From Larf Harn, War secratary

[Amn Voss]

The Adio-Raj Incorporated company had been given several contracts from the government to create a spacecraft capable of interplanetary space travel. On the first trip to Mars the astronauts from Amn Voss made contract not with the typical Red Martians, but with a more primitive Black Martian species. They live in a complex system of tribes and were extremely cautious of outsiders. Several of them were brought back to the Adio-Raj Incorporated headquarters research division for testing and experimentation. Currently the outcomes of the experiment are still in the hands of Adio-Raj, but they are expected to be released to the scientific community at large in within the next few days.

[Klingonum]

Klingonum has masscred the Black martians and have divided their Territory equally between Golden Mars and Klingonum. Those few that survive are now being experimented on in Hoshan Labs in Klingonum.

[Amn Voss]

The experiments preformed on the Black Martians brought back to Amn Voss have caused the death of the specimens, but valuable genetic materials have been extracted from them. The materials will be distributed to various scientific institutes to begin a mass cloning project which will, ultimately, revive the Black Martian race.

Most likely they will be altered to be able to breath Oxygen and be used as a cheap form of labour for use in hazardous conditions.

The Adio-Raj scientific outpost which was built in a crater just outside of Black Martian territory has informed the Amn Voss government and Adio-Raj headquarters about the massacre and debate has arisen in Parliament as to how to deal with the news.

[Northern Russenich]

Northern Russenich has established a colony on the far side of Mars.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

"Celso, have you any idea whatsoever what these reports are about?" Patroni asked, mildly perturbed.

"None whatsoever. Whatever it is, it doesn't have anything to do with the Mars we're familiar with, or located on. Black Martians, Red Martians, I suppose next it'll be Green, or Blue, or Polkadot?" Celso answered, shrugging helplessly.

"Ah well. I suppose we'll chalk it up to one of those odd cross-reality transmissions we run into now and then. Though given their rather ... abusive and warlike attitudes, perhaps its for the best they aren't where we're at. We'd end up having to glass 'em or something else equally messy and unpleasant," Patroni said with a sigh, reaching for his tea. "So - next on the agenda?"

"Um ... your redecoration request for the offices. Much less troubling than enslavement, murder, and other such nastiness."

"Excellent! On with it then ..."

[Klingonum]

Klnigonum troops have layed seige to Adio Raj headquaters

[Amn Voss]

Klnigonum troops have layed seige to Adio Raj headquaters

If you truly wish to start a war, then so be it. It would be of no consequence to Amn'Voss and the destruction of another oppressive government would only better this world.

Co-CEO of Adio-Raj Inc.,
Sunil Raj

[Scolopendra]

Deimos Fleetbase, Which Was Once 90° To Reality*

The Rock has been quiet as of late, but this comes as no surprise to anyone. Ever since the Quickbronze Incident and the Vascillian Exodus, Mars as a whole has been quiet as of late. What was once the Mars Theatre Fleet had evolved into the Median Planets Theatre Fleet and took up the responsibilities of patrolling Yut interests in a large volume of space between Earth and Saturn, and Deimos Fleetbase remained: a stable rock--even, The Rock--in orbit over Mars, fortified to over-WarShip specifications and acting as a central point for Triumvirate logistics in the area out of convenience.

It, and those within it, are tasked with supporting the Fleet and monitoring Mars, while Mars monitors it right back (after all, it is the Triumvirate base of the area, and as such is generally viewed with a mixture of awe, adoration, fear, and dread depending on who exactly is doing the looking). Again, as of late, this has been a relatively simple task of directing local Space Patrol and International Rescue units to react to emergencies, working with the Martian Port Authority to round up the occasional baddie, and generally taking care of day-to-day issues that'd be beneath the notice of services not the Triumvirate: they are the local white hats, after all, and they protect and serve to such an extent that they're alternately loved and hated, depending on how convenient their idealism is at any given point in time.

Mars was relatively stable. This is why the following comes as something of a shock: the scene is Fleetbase Central, essentially the command room for the entire Fleet. It is an expanded version of a standard TYCS command compartment; instead of being a rectangle with a large strategic indicator on one end, a technician's gallery on the other, and officers arrayed between in an arch towards the indicator, this is a circular room with a domed ceiling that contains a truly massive indicator hologram, a nebulous blue sphere. Officers form one circle around the sphere, their rotating seats mounting consoles with the blocky design ethic that pervades anything Scolopendran-influenced; beyond that are two levels of technicians at a variety of boards, consoles, displays, and controls, with one level being on the 'ground floor' and the other set up in a balcony-like gallery accessible via steep gangways. Normally, the officers in their Class As or Bs would alternate between paperwork and watching the display, while the technicians in their green digitized-smoke-cloud-pattern fatigues would watch the data that makes up the display. Conversation is muted, occasionally people chuckle at something funny. Professional, but after some time, relatively relaxed--it's not like there's a war on or anything.

Which is how things were before one technician starts boggling at the results on her sensor scope and flips the strategic display override switch on her console. The indicator cloud in the middle of the room flashes orange once, then again, while a bass tone resounds through the room. After the flashing, the yellow sphere inside the cloud representing Mars grows a wavy orange boil, which starts to spread across the surface in waves. "Ma'am," the technician reports in a steady but concerned voice, "fractal event detected, not severe; PSS remaining inactive. Looks like a minor Break event."

The addressed officer looks up at the indicator and sighs. The TYCS had been lucky; other Martian nations had dealt with a fractal version of Mars they called 'Mars-B'--even the Sunsetti had dealt with it on and off--but it never showed up on Deimos' home r-brane until now... and this may require some explanation. Reality, to put it simply, is broken, which is how Earth can be repeated many times over. That problem--then again, not so much a "problem" as a "complication"--didn't apply to Mars, at least as far as the perceptions of the Triumvirate as a whole. At least, not until now. This is why Sky Marshal Tandra Fani-Kayode, commanding officer of the Median Planets Theatre Fleet, is sighing as she looks up at the cloudy sphere taking up a good chunk of the room's volume. A woman with skin of dark chocolate and short, kinky grey-black hair, she wears the standard uniform of top TYCS fleet officers: a black double-breasted uniform with a green plastron, green shoulderboards, and a red fabric belt over the short coat, acting as a sort of cummerbund in a Napoleonic fashion--beyond that are the steel accoutrements and rank insignia and bits and bobs that one comes to expect from military uniforms. "Well, this is going to be interesting. Acquiring data, of course?"

"Yes, ma'am. Information's coming in quickly; it appears the new layer doesn't appear to have the same level of terraforming, population density, or energy density as... well..." It's the technician's turn to sigh. "Mars Prime. I suppose we're going to institute Contingency Green, then?"

"Yes. FleetCom," Fani-Kayode says as she turns to the fleet communications officer--the abrupt movement causing her green cape to sweep behind her in a small arc--sitting in his designated chair and who is looking up at her expectantly, "update the Fleet. Comms, make sure TYCSHQ has a real-time feed of this. StratCom and Sensors, put the feed into the computers. I want full knowledge of the political situation, current events, and military status of our new friends."

The four officers called out in turn accept their orders with an "Acting, ma'am" and turn to their tasks whilst Fani-Kayode turns back around to the display, adjusting her green officer's wheel cap on her head. The vacation couldn't last forever... "Oh, and I do want it on the bounce, so jack in if you please." Returning to her seat, Tandra sits down, pulls a cord from her adjustable seat's armrest with a smooth motion, and frowns at it before she applies it to a subdermal transduction jack on her left temple. The technology's improved dramatically since it wasn't introduced; it doesn't give her headaches anymore, although she still remembers the dump shock and the last few years of her career have been unintentional aversion therapy towards the use of even netdiving, much less the more recent (and complete) SEELE systems.

She overcomes it, though. The Sky Marshal is an an officer of the Triumvirate of Yut Combined Services. Overcoming adversity is what she does.

Not Too Long Later, In The Fleetnet

The Commander-In-Chief, Triumvirate of Yut Combined Services sits in a dark chair at a dark table which is spotlit from above and under in white. None of this actually exists, depending on how one classifies existing. For those who normally reside in meatspace, it's a voluntary mass hallucination; for those of a more mechanical intelligence, it's home. Nevertheless, all that matters is that the various Sky Marshals of the various Theatres are arranged and color-coded around this table-that-isn't, and all are intently listening to Fani-Kayode as she sits in deep crimson light. "And that's the situation, sir. We're looking at a vaguely Burroughsian Mars with two native ethnicities which have become proxies in a conflict between two--we are supposing--Earth-based colonial powers. The technologically inferior 'Black Martians' have already been nearly exterminated, with their backers the Amn Voss, having analyzed them and apparently intending to functionally resurrect the species as a labor subrace; the technologically superior 'Red Martians' have been conquered and are being used as additional force for the nation of Klingonum, who are attacking the Amn Voss colony. The situation is beginning to escalate into war, and there are several neutral nations of indeterminate interests also on this new Mars level."

The CINCTYCS nods, the artificial light glinting off the mirror polish of his large MacArthur-style aviator glasses. He looks nothing like MacArthur, however. If anything, he resembles the Chinese generals MacArthur was fighting against: relatively short, stocky, and carrying a well-refined aura of impenetrability. No one seems to even know his name; it's not important, and the varied histories of this alliance of nations in a broken reality just add flavor to the multiculturalism inherent in such an organization. "Do any 'wild' Black Martians still exist?"

"A few, sir, in isolated camps that Klingonum have not noticed yet. We believe for the time being that they're too busy on the offensive to mop up appropriately."

"Your first priority then, Sky Marshal," the CINCTYCS says in his characteristically quiet and yet rock-firm voice, as subtle yet solid as the earthen ground itself, "is to extract those populations and transfer them to the Ring. We will not accept an entire people being destroyed so that the only remnants are artificially bred as slaves."

"Of course, sir. Lokis are already prepped and I've several WarShip components ready to move into position."

"At your discretion, Sky Marshal, but if you can drop-and-grab without getting your Theatre into a war so much the better. Your second priority is to try and cease hostilities between Klingonum and Amn Voss; it's time for them to meet the local sheriff."

"And that, sir, will buy time for our ulterior motive of establishing contact with the Red Martians and seeing if they like being under thrall and, if not, offer assistance in perhaps throwing off an imperial yoke?"

"They are recently conquered, to my understanding, and under an empire that apparently has little regard to biodiversity." The last has the slightest sense of an extremely wry sense of humor to it. "You surmise my intent correctly."

"What about the Council?"

"We are acting to uphold the Charter of the Triumvirate of Yut. This is our mission. I will handle the Council, Sky Marshal; you will bring me the victory to ease that handling."

"Acting, sir." Tandra Fani-Kayode nods curtly, then glances at the blue-lit seat. "Charles, I trust you'll have Saturn Theatre ready to take on casualties?"

Sky Marshal Charles Blair, the blond-haired blue-eyed poster boy in charge of the Saturn Theatre, nods. "We're mobilizing the reserve Ground Forces as we speak as a matter of course and the logistics Lokis are ready. We're coordinating with the Scolopendran Civil Defense Corps' engineers to establish and secure refugee camps on the Ring. Don't worry, Tandra, we're ready."

"Good, you'd better be. You'll have the first inbound within the hour."

In Orbit

Admiral Benida-Merah, commanding officer of the Sixth Supercarrier Component, smiles wanly at the captain of her flagship, Supercarrier TYWS-SCV Normandy. "A short hop, Captain, but an important one. Please to launch all available Lokis on extraction and overwatch missions as dictated by StratCom, and if we could launch fighters for air superiority and ground support...?"

This conversation is not occurring via speech; that would be too slow ever since the Angelic Skies Incident made the speed of human thought obsolete. The bodies of Benida-Merah and Captain Phossa lay reclined in peaceful comatose states in Normandy's command compartment; to say that their minds reside in those bodies would only be half-true at the moment. "Of course, ma'am. We're to move into position covered by the rest of the component in order to offer naval fire-support if necessary, correct?" Phoosa is not human. Not by a long shot. Masswise, he is easily three or more of the shorter human woman, is covered in scales, and looks like a very large and muscular iguana. He doesn't quite sound like a landslide, but his voice is much gruffer than his diction lets on.

"Yes. The logic is that hopefully deploying only five ships, with only one of them being massive, when there are clearly more of them about, will first not alert the Klingonums... Klingonumi? Klingonumians? the Kay-goons overmuch, and we've got sufficient firepower that we shouldn't need a bee-bee component in formation with us."

"Besides, there are several right over there if we need them. Right, HangerCon, you heard the lady..."

Outside--properly outside, beyond the hundreds of meters of hull and equipment and weapons and armor--five dozen Loki DropShips split off of their moorings on Normandy's broad 'wings' and begin their descent towards Klingonum-occupied Mars at high speed. Most of the hundred-meter-long craft boast bulky cargo pods, but several carry gunship pods bristling with secondary weapons or missile pods chock full of tactical munitions. Meanwhile, slit-like doors open on Normandy's side and Excalibur air dominance and Phantom IV ground attack aerospace fighters are shot out via gravitic linegun, their pilots arcing them into formation with the larger DropShips.

Of course, the TYCS doesn't just use the sword.

Transmission to the Local Klingonum Military Command

To whom it may concern:

I am Sky Marshal Tandra Fani-Kayode, commanding officer of the Triumvirate of Yut Combined Services' Median Planets Theatre Fleet. You may have noticed us popping into view recently, and while we'd like to welcome you to our corner of this broken multiversal reality, we're afraid that your current actions regarding the Black Martians are completely intolerable. As such, we have launched several retrieval missions to rescue those populations of free Black Martians that remain in the hinterlands under your control. We are not here to conquer you or to engage you, but should you attack our forces we will engage and destroy your capability to make war in our jurisdiction.

Allow us peaceful access to accomplish our humanitarian mission and there will be peace. Deny us this opportunity through violence and there will be violence.

In order that you don't think that we're taking sides, we will be contacting both your and the Amn Voss' governments soon to introduce you to the new situation and why we are not particularly keen on you having a conflict that could spread onto our Mars. We're not overly impressed with either of your actions and would like to take this opportunity to resolve our differences diplomatically.

Sky Marshal Tandra Fani-Kayode
CO, MPTF
Deimos Fleetbase

* Depending on whose "reality" you're speaking of...

[The Red Bears of Mars]

And as the barriers between the differing "Marses" weaken, yet another force arrives on the scene: Sliding down out from of the Martian sky come a fleet of open-decked 'flyers', crewed by anthropomorphic and ref-furred Ursines whose scanty clothing consists mainly of leather straps to which the sheaths for various weapons are attached.

"Yo-ho-ho!", shouts out one of these Bears.
"Pssst,", one of his companions whispers to him: "Wrong sort of pirates..."
"Urrgah! Fractal reality is confusing..."

[Sunset]

Sunset Defense Force Aurora-Class Worm Gate, Geo-Synchronous Orbit, Mars...

"Sir, TYCS reports minor fractal event in Mars-space. Confirmed through University of Deimos and SEC."

While one end of the Martian Moon was dominated by the TYCS Fleetbase the other end was dominated in turn by the far older Ravenspire facility. The University was one of the older centers for dimensional, fractal, and general reality studies in the local cluster. Some speculated that the University was often responsible for the infrequent events that occurred in Martian local space but the kitsune that generally populated the facility smiled that inscrutable smile and spouted gibberish that would make the worst Trekkie babble incomprehensibly.

"And what is the TYCS doing about it?" Admiral David Edge, the Aurora's commanding officer and the highest ranking SDF officer in the Martian sphere, looked up from the report he had been perusing to the junior officer who had interrupted what had been a delightful time with lots of statistics and graphs.

"Extraction operation. Apparently the locals have decided to massacre some kind of Red and Black Martians for their own purposes. Still waiting on GEC data there to feed to SEC for species classification."

Another officer piped up, "SEC wants their own slice of the pie apparently. Out-system Aurora activation... Now."

Those with nothing better to do turned to watch the outside view of the vast ring-shaped station on the external monitors. From a camera on one of the nearby navigation buoys they watched as energy rippled across the open space and coalesced into a spiraling vortex that was the signature of the SDF's artificial wormhole generators. Normally a half-dozen of the familiar saucer-and-nacelle cruisers would have come through but this time there was... Nothing. A fat load of it really. Edge turned in his command chair to look over at the slight ArAreBeen officer in charge of the wormhole system.

"If you'll draw your attention to the holo-sphere..." The grey-skinned, black-eyed alien right out of an abduction nightmare pointed at the aforementioned sphere which dominated the center of the room. "Looks like they skipped right through local reality. Not exactly sure how they did that."

Indeed in the tactical display of local space that was the holo-sphere a trio of new dots was glowing brightly as they sped away from the Aurora. The sunburst that surrounded them indicated they were SDF vessels but the broken yellow outline around that indicated they were only being tracked by their own transponders and not the systems aboard the station. The lead ship, identified as SDF-Mekong, glowed brightly again and a dozen smaller dots sped away to begin surrounding Mars-yet-not-Mars.

SDF- Mekong, Venture E-Class Heavy Explorer...

"Satellites away Captain. Telemetry online and data recording started. Preliminary data from TYCS confirmed... Pretty barren out there."

"Very good Lieutenant. Begin scanning for communications signals and whatever forces the locals have on hand. Communications?"

"Sir!" Lieutenant Ogox turned from it's station. From a distance it looked like someone had left a potted plant at the communication's station until one saw the cracked rock that sat in the middle of the tendril'ed mass and the translator that was glued to what was roughly it's forehead. A datajack glued to it's chin allowed it to interface with the ship's systems via a cable that disappeared inside the vegetable mass that was it's 'body' before reappearing at the console.

"Fire off a friendly message to SCV Normandy and get us linked in to their comm-net. Snoop on everything you can. We might not have long in this reality and I'd like to learn everything we can even if it means using someone else's eye." Captain Quedyqp turned to the main viewscreen just as a pair of Super Aggressor Heavy Assault Fighters roared over the broad expanse of the saucer section and peeled away to port and starboard to take up stations a dozen kilometers from the ship. Another pair would now be positioned aft of the ship with both acting mostly as a show of strength. Most of the ship's complement of sub-craft were larger passenger and cargo shuttles; the four fighters were the only combat sub-craft aside from a Jade-Class that was being prepared for launch in case a forced landing was necessary.

Quedyqp hopped down from his command chair and bounded up to the science station where his mate was sitting. The two Alona brushed talons momentarily and then turned to look at the console with their single huge eyes. Data streamed by and Pqydeuq manipulated the controls via her own datajack. Though 'her' wasn't really the best sexual assignment. Alona reproduced by spraying spores around which combined together in patches of what was often mistaken for mold that gradually grew into a cluster of much smaller Alona. She just happened to be in charge of making sure the next batch got enough nutrients.

"Let's start with these Black Martians then. Grizzly as it may be, there should still be a lot of remains scattered around. See if you can find a settlement and dispatch a science and security team to take a peak around. Tele-presence if it's in Klingonum or Amn Voss 'territory'. Though we don't exactly have a map... Get someone on identifying their assets and if they don't supply some kind of territory marking to TYCS just specify everything within fifty kilometers of a fixed facility as their turf..."

[Hessingen]

Captain Trapp looked out from the bridge of The HIS Charles. He saw a strange disturbance coming from a suprnova. Suddnely hundreds of ships poured out of it. they began firing . He bellowed "fire". They shot missiles but the volume of fire coming from the opposing fleet was to great and the ship was vaporised. The last transmission from the ship was "help its the Dal.....".

[Scolopendra]

Fleetspace

"Bears?"

"Bears."

"You're kidding me. Bears."

"Possibly pirate bears. 'Pirate' as in 'Treasure Island pirate.' In the Martian atmosphere."

"Well, that makes it primarily a SPIR problem, doesn't it? Or the Martian Port Authority?"

"I don't know if the MPA even sees them, ma'am."

"Argh, fractal reality is confusing. Tell SPIR to get on it, then."

"Oh, and there was a supernova quite a long ways from here."

"Tag it and send it to the appropriate theatre for investigation."

* - * - *

"Mars Prime" nearish "Mars Bear"

Space Patrol and International Rescue--better known as SPIR, pronounced as "spur"--is the Triumvirate of Yut's attempt at having a superfederal police force that can navigate through the various sovereignty issues of the Triumvirate's member nations. The resulting organization ended up being a series of national chapters that would work together with Federal SPIR; the national chapters liaise between Federal SPIR and local law enforcement (while Federal SPIR works directly with the top-level enforcement branches of each nation) and provide general emergency assistance and, should the locals allow it, paramilitary patrol assistance. Normally, they tend towards simply the former.

Nevertheless, there's a lot of Federal SPIR on Mars ever since Eniqcir's central government broke down and Triumvirate Protectorate Territories became common. This is why a few sleek anodized Duralumin patrol craft, very much inspired by retro-futurism with their pointed noses and scimitar-curved Googie tailfins, zip towards the Red Bears of Mars' flyers. "Hi, there, bear people! We're the local constabulary, just checkin' around to see everything's alright and whatnot. I see you're armed and all; that's fine, we just ask you follow standard peace-bonding laws and all that. Is there anything we can help you with?"

Ah, the Eniqciri. Even as ex-Eniqciri, they're simply so friendly and enthusiastic. Perhaps overly so.

[The Red Bears of Mars]

"Mars Prime" nearish "Mars Bear"Nevertheless, there's a lot of Federal SPIR on Mars ever since Eniqcir's central government broke down and Triumvirate Protectorate Territories became common. This is why a few sleek anodized Duralumin patrol craft, very much inspired by retro-futurism with their pointed noses and scimitar-curved Googie tailfins, zip towards the Red Bears of Mars' flyers. "Hi, there, bear people! We're the local constabulary, just checkin' around to see everything's alright and whatnot. I see you're armed and all; that's fine, we just ask you follow standard peace-bonding laws and all that. Is there anything we can help you with?"

Ah, the Eniqciri. Even as ex-Eniqciri, they're simply so friendly and enthusiastic. Perhaps overly so.

The whole fleet of 'flyers' comes to a halt, although not in a very synchronsied manner, and hangs in mid-air.
Most of Bears who are visible on the flyers decks look at these newly-arrived patrol craft.
Many of those Bears then look at each other, as if silently trying to reach a consensus on what to do next, some of them rubbing their stomachs to indicate confusion.
Finally the Ursine who is apparently the commander of the 'flyer' at the front of the formation -- or, at least, the largest and best-armed member of its crew -- picks up a megaphone and replies:

"Hr'rmm, what are these 'standard peace-bonding laws' that you're talking about?" he enquires. "And, urrmm, have you by any chance seen a lone Bear down on the ground anywhere in the area over which you just flew?"

[Scolopendra]

Most of the silver rocketships start to circle a respectable distance away while one peels off and comes to within shouting distance. It doesn't have any visible weaponry, or seams for that matter, but it does have bolts here and there for some reason. Odd. The close rocketship starts to hover and replies via megaphone. "Well, those just mean you make your weapons slightly harder to use, usually by closing the holsters up with seals and stuff. Then again, you are in the middle of jack-all, if you'll pardon the lingo, so we really don't care at the moment if you leave 'em out so long as you take care not to shoot anything that's ours."

[North Silldistia Cita]

North Silldistia Cita agrees to invest in space travel to mars!