The Galactic Roundtable - IC Closed

[Auman]

The Galactic Roundtable, Somewhere in New Dornalian Space, Beta Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

The Overlord of Auman was an enigmatic figure which preferred to rule from on high, as if like Jupiter. King of the Gods of Mount Olympus, the vast majority of his works were handled by couriers and intermediaries, well versed on the intentions of his edicts and orders. Regardless, despite the vast knowledge of precedent and history that guided the Overlord's cohorts in the execution of his mandate, the orders were often vague and open ended, requiring a great deal of personal interpretation to carry out effectively.

When the word filtered down that the supreme ruler of the Sphere had demanded the galaxy be given a new Galactic Assembly, it had fallen upon the broad shoulders of General Gideus Moltke who was, thankfully, not a member of the Oort Sektor. Gideus examined the history of the Galactic Assembly and came to several conclusions. First, that it should not be tethered to any single nation or planet. Like the nations of the galaxy, the Assembly should be free and prosperous in its own right. Sovereignty was the ideal held closely by all sentient life, and so to shall the Assembly be free to make it's own decisions... And so, Gideus Moltke requisitioned a Roundtable structure, one of many O'Neill cylinders under construction by the Aumanii Fleet to serve as bases in far flung sectors, to serve as the nucleus of a new and renewed diplomatic system. The Nexus of combined diplomatic effort, this Roundtable would become a nation in it's own right, with its own government and it's own laws, so that it may serve impartially and entirely independent of the predations of the national interest... With conditions.

The Roundtable was expensive.

Though the people within would organize their own society, the structure would belong to Auman and leased to the administration in perpetuity. This came with a number of privileges, though all were minor and considered reasonable. While the Sphere had no say in the running of the Roundtable or who may be permitted, the Aumanii did get a princely piece of real estate in the form of the Owner's Box, which overlooked the entire spinning mass of the verdant inner drum, which was now buzzing with nascent activity. New construction dominated the growing skyline, though state activity had already begun. Diplomacy and business required meeting places.

Gideus was overlooking the thing he created with a sense of satisfaction as he sipped a glass of milk. The door of the Owner's Box slid open with a hushed whisper and the sound of a dozen jackboots swished upon the plush velveteen carpet. Gideus saw the men in a reflection on the glass and the blood drained from his face as he recognized the dark visage of the Overlord, Samoth Uyghur. Gideus turned on his heel, hastily dropped his glass on the desk next to him and saluted stiffly. The Overlord stood in the center of the crowd, his hands planted firmly on his hips. Uyghur appraised Moltke with great intensity, the General felt now that all of this may have been a tremendous mistake... That he had entirely misinterpreted the mandate.

"At ease." Said Uyghur, his voice was deep and rich. Gideus clasped his hands behind his back and leveled his gaze forward, looking at nothing in particular. The Overlord moved towards the window and took in the view.

"It's interesting, isn't it?" Uyghur said, waving a lazy finger down the drum.

Gideus wasn't sure if he should say anything, so he didn't.

"Interesting that a theocratic military dictatorship would be the ones to make the first move towards peace in our time. Should one listen to the foreign vids, one would think this was the domain of states that wreathed their subtle tyranny with sweet words about democracy. It amuses me." Uyghur stood in silence for awhile before leaving abruptly.

OOC:

Here is the link to the Roundtable sign up thread. Please register there before posting here.

viewtopic.php?ns=1&f=4&t=472498&p=36881092#p36881092

[Great Ingen]

Aboard the Roundtable, The Jade Quarter
Representative Aoife Lysoyne

---

The Ward assigned to the Jade Empire of Great Ingen, formally known as the Jade Quarter, was a bustle of activity. Tradies of all stripes were all over the district, carefully overlaying the base structure with the trappings of Imperial civilisation. Smooth cypress wood and real stone tiling overlaid the floors, whilst the walls were panelled with thin shoji screens and framed with yet more polished cypress. The Jade Quarter was built around a central square, almost a miniaturised version of the central Roundtable Forum, a wide open space lined with several facades which gave the impression of large buildings. A fountain was surmounted by a bronze statue of Tadamichi Kuribayashi, the first Emperor of the Second Jade Dynasty, sat cross-legged in peaceful contemplation, and pleasant artificially maintained series of lawns, walkways and paths.

The Jade Mission, Aoife's official residence and the locus of Jade Imperial administration on the Roundtable, was to be an elegant faux-pagoda with rich jade green lacquered tiles and dark cherry wood. Jade Marines lounged throughout the quarter, their combat suits faintly reminiscent of o-yoroi armour, with blank visors hiding their faces. They were in the caramel brown and teal of the 19th Regiment, and were stiffly courteous to visitors, whilst between them people from all corners of the Jade Empire went about their business. The elegant Ingenious and smiling Dong Wu in their silk robes and curious sandals, the shining giants of Neusattar with their furs and leathers, the languid Mediolanii in their togas and tunics, and even the rare felidaen, stalking on sinuous limbs, conspicuous as the only non-humans of the Empire.

Aoife stared out across the hustle and bustle, loving the sound of people chattering, the sounds of construction and trade, and the general feeling of vibrancy the Jade Quarter was already emanating. The artificial lights were already beginning to dim and the delicate hanging lanterns, in a riot of shades of green, purple, blue, red and orange, began to cast their dancing glow over the artificial building fronts. She nodded to herself in contentment, and then turned from the balcony which overlooked Tadamichi Square and headed for the stairs.

Accompanied solely by Ming-Na Wen, her diminutive aide and confidante, Aoife emerged and crossed the square, heading towards the Forum district. As they walked they chatted, enjoying the easy companionship and taking in the new scents, sights and sounds which together spoke of possibility and new discoveries. They wore matching outfits, Aoife in a white tunic with bottle green lacing and high white boots over white leggings, Ming-Na in a white qipao with similar dark green lacing and white evening shoes. Where Aoife was tall, with the luminous golden skin and lustrous golden curls of the typical Neusattran human, Ming-Na was short, with straight black hair and pale skin. Only a native of the Jade Empire would peg her immediately as Dong Wu rather than Ingenious.

They entered the Forum, hopping on one of the sleek shuttles that whipped throughout the station, and marvelled as they flew past Embassy Row, a sprawling section of the Roundtable that housed the various embassies, many of which were still receiving their last licks of paint or security installs. The shuttle came to a stop nearby at one of the commercial districts, and they stepped cheerfully onto the platform, strolling through the neon signs in the artifical evening light before selecting one bar that promised 2-4-1 COCKTAILS, ALL YOU CAN EAT PINCHOS, IF YOU LEAVE SOBER WE'LL NEVER FORGIVE OURSELVES!!!. It was a tiki style lounge, with heavy wooden furniture and rich designs all over, a design that was all the rage back in Ingen.

The two settled themselves at the bar and ordered a couple of lurid Purple Rain cocktails. Although Aoife was determined to have a genuinely fun time, she knew that networking was the key to a successful career in diplomacy, and as relative newcomers to the NS-1 Galaxy the bar seemed like a good place to start.

[Numeriga]

This post was done in collaboration with Auman and Alexzonya

Ambassador Tim Knight had walked around the large circular room that was his office. Grand walnut bookcases reached the ceiling roughly twelve feet above his head, books of all types from ancient Earth authors on warfare to various authors on diplomacy and economics could be seen, their covers a variety of colors but the letters on each book glossy gold in color. An ornate oriental rug, a gift from his brief stint in The Celestial Empire of Bao-longa, decorated the center of a room otherwise covered in hardwood flooring. Opposite of the huge double oaken doors sat a grand mahogany desk with artistic details carved into the sides and legs that could only be accomplished by human hands. He made his way back to his seat passing by Colonel Jenna Delacroix, one of the Numerigan military liaisons aboard the Roundtable station. Tim sat down and adjusted the row of pencils on his desk.

“Why are you so nervous?” Jenna asked the ambassador, Tim stopped fidgeting with the things in front of him and leaned back in his chair.

“I’m sure you got the same flash message as I did a week ago, the question is, however, does your clearance give you the full details or were there several black marks through your message?” asked Tim his dark brown eyes looking at the black woman directly, already knowing what her answer was.

“That there is a major security event happening in Gamma sir.” replied the Colonel tersely.

“Major security event doesn’t even begin to describe the absolute clusterfuck building up in Gamma.” said the Ambassador as he placed four glasses on the desk, two in the positions to be occupied by his guests set to arrive shortly, one for himself and one for the colonel. He pulled the stopper on a decanter holding an amber liquid. He poured to the quarter mark on each of the glasses before replacing the stopper on the decanter.

“Machines are infecting organics across the quadrant.” said Tim as he took a drink from his glass. “Our worst fears come to fruition.”

Jenna nodded thinking the Ambassador had gone off his rocker before taking a sip from her glass.

“You think I’m joking but I’ve seen the pictures from our intelligence agencies, men and women corrupted by machines and added to their ‘crusade’ across the stars.”

Tim was interrupted as a sharp wrap hit the door indicating their guests had arrived.

“Come in.” said Tim as he and Jenna stood up to greet their arrivals.



Ambassador Dawn Constantine was the Alexzonyan representative to the Roundtable. In appearance, she was blonde-haired, green-eyed, and conventionally attractive; almost too perfect. The reason could be speculated upon, but those with a detailed dossier could likely attribute this to her exocortex sleeve. Constantine was, after all, one of the 1.1% of Alexzonyan citizens who had migrated their organic brains to Phoenixi-developed exocortex technology. In some ways, this made her the ideal candidate to front Alexzonyan fears of the Welded menace; the Phoenixi were inherently vulnerable. In others, she knew that the less progressive nations of the galaxy sometimes saw her as a more lightly shaded mirror of the same biomechanical menace writ large.

Regardless of her sleeve, she did her best to keep those factors within her control as prim and perfect as those so augmented: her hair was neatly ordered in an efficient bun ornamented by a pair of gray sticks, her blazer (a style archaic in many other nations but still modern, though conservative, in Alexzonya) neatly pressed, the lapel pin (crossed flags, one Alexzonyan, the other SATMA) oriented perfectly.

Entering the room and approaching the desk, she offered her hand first to the Numerigan ambassador for a firm handshake, and then to the Colonel, with a grim smile.

“Ambassador Knight, how nice to see you again,” she states, her voice perfectly even. “Unfortunate that our meeting comes in the wake of such ill tidings.”

Tim pursed his lips for a moment at the sight Ambassador Constantine, he always felt a mixture of light revulsion and pity for the person who had decided to give up their bodies for some inane pursuit of perfection or immortality.

He glanced over at Colonel Delacroix who seemed oblivious or immune to Constantine’s ‘condition’.

Immediately behind Constantine came the swaggering visage of Fleet General Miller Tyz'Juan, the very picture of the Aumanii fighting man, black uniform immaculately pressed, salt and pepper hair cut into a high and tight, with a beaming smile that made his blue eyes seem to shine. Miller was already lighting a cigarette when he stepped through the door and said "Tim, you son of a bitch, you mind if I smoke?"

Tim took Constantine’s hand and shook it and then Miller's before waving for them to take a seat. An adjutant handed the Aumanii an ashtray and the two spoke in hushed tones for a quiet moment before the Numerigan errand man came back with a glass of rye for him.

Tim sat down himself and leaned in towards the two diplomats and quickly studying their faces for any indication of their current mental states.

“I must admit I’m rather surprised the both of you wanted a meeting so suddenly.” Tim said mincing his words carefully trying to not inform his guests how much he knew of the current situation, mostly to keep how extensive Numerigan intelligence was across the galaxy and not just in their own back yard as most others assumed.

“How can the Federated Systems of Numeriga be of assistance today?” Tim asked innocently as he removed a cigar box from his desk and opened it offering his guests a smoke to go along with their drinks.


Constantine reached forward and accepted a cigar with a small smile. In Alexzonya proper, tobacco was still considered a filthy habit; despite medical technologies’ capability to easily eradicate cancers and other complications, decades of anti-tobacco campaigning had left its mark on national preferences. Other drugs, often sold in small, neat capsules that dissolved under one’s tongue, were in fashion, but smoking was considered an archaic throwback.

Miller tucked a stogie into his breast pocket and thanked Ambassador Knight for it, graciously enough.

Roundtable (and the Galaxy) were not Alexzonya, and when Constantine had done a tour with Foreign Affairs in Auman she had picked up the habit. Back then she could feel the tobacco; in “giving up her humanity”, one of the things she had left behind was proper smoking, as the enhanced air filtration in her esophagus would ensure none of the fumes made it to her lungs. Alas. Still, after receiving light and taking a puff, she could tell that the cigar was one of exceptional quality. “These are very fine,” she acknowledges. “Thank you.” It also gives her another moment to mull things over. Not that she hadn’t rehearsed in her mind how to frame this discussion with the Numerigans, but there were no guarantees of success.

“There is a serious situation developing in the Gamma quadrant,” she began, pulling out an Alexzonyan Foreign Affairs tablet marked with a security seal. “The entire Roundtable community has been aware of the Welded threat for some time now. Additionally, your garrison at Avalon has certainly reported to you that Alexzonyan forces have been involved in counter-Weld combat operations in recent months even as we have attempted to involve other regional partners in the Northeast Gamma League.” She glanced at her Aumanii counterpart and takes a deep breath.

“Approximately two weeks ago, a major Welded military force attacked the Leos system, the capital system of an Alexzonyan-allied regional power, a major population center, and the League’s forward staging area for counter-Welded operations. The attack succeeded in dispersing the local defenses and landing significant numbers of Welded ground soldiers planetside. Within 72 hours of their arrival in-system, the planetary capital had been overrun, and our forces on the ground have been ceding ground since.”

She taps the tablet, and a hologram of the Leos system pops up, complete with (approximate) military positions and estimated troop and ship counts and compositions.

“Starfleet and the NEGL Auxiliary have responded and reinforced the local fleet, but as of yet we are still outnumbered and have been unable to lift the siege. The situation on the surface is becoming increasingly desperate, and it is only the Welded’s focus on assimilating the civilians that they have already captured that has diverted their efforts from destroying the remaining surface defensive positions and capturing the remaining safe zones. The loss of Leos would be a serious blow to our local alliances, and give the Welded a fortified foothold in Northeast Gamma from which to continue their crusade.”

She swiped the tablet back, and things faded back to a regional view. Another tap and a number of additional military elements are highlighted. “We are planning a counter-offensive, called ‘Operation Gandalf, to relieve and resupply the surface defenders and contest orbital control, but with recent escalations in other parts of the region, the persistent threat of action by other neighboring powers, and our forces’ inherent vulnerabilities to the Welded’s assimilation, we are not confident that Alexzonyan and NEGL forces alone will be sufficient.”

There’s a pause. “However… there are four thousand Numerigan ships and a substantial garrison of your soldiers at Avalon, to guard against strategic threats to your regional interests and allies.” She hadn’t asked a question, but still, it lingered in the air.

Miller leaned casually on the armrest of his chair, legs crossed and listened to Constantine's assessment. Preferring, at times, to interrupt and add his own thoughts from time to time but elected against it. Some would call him a war criminal, but he still had his manners.

"On top of the Leos campaign, Megaslava has a confirmed outbreak of Weld related violence that we are currently dealing with. I wouldn't be too worried about it, but it is serious enough that we have decided to focus the bulk of our available ready reserve just in case things get out of hand. We've kept them contained with atomics for the time being and our forces have made some progress alongside local allies. The spooky thing about this, Tim, is the rate at which it spreads and how insidious it can be in doing it. You know us, we Aumanii aren't tinmen, cybernetics just ain't us… But get a load of this." Miller pulled a manilla folder from his inside jacket pocket and dropped it on Knight's desk. Papers fanned out, along with photographs of mangled and disfigured Aumanii soldiers.

Miller took a cool drag from his smoke and exhaled through his nostrils, pointing at the stack in front of Tim Knight with a lazy finger.

"We had a mandatory RFID chipping program for active-duty military members. The thing was about the size of a pinhead, injected in the meaty part of the hand, just below the right thumb." Miller pointed it out on himself.

"A little sliver of pencil lead, more or less… But it was enough for the Weld to grab onto. They killed the 38th Battalion when a Lieutenant lost his head and detonated their atomic stockpile. They had closed in their frontage for a breakthrough attack. When our QRF made it on-site, they found that the survivors were… Corrupted. The pinhead in their hand had metastasized into… Well, the pictures speak for themselves. On top of that, we've heard rumors of the Weld getting to people through hearing implants, pacemakers, dental work and all sorts of mundane crap… It's been a real trip. At this moment, there are four nations I can think of offhand that can muster enough force to challenge the Welded and three of them are in this room."

Tim’s eyes glanced quickly over at Delacroix who seemed to have suddenly lost the ability to move as she listened to the two foreigners tell their tales of woe. His nostrils flared a little as he quickly processed what had been said. Most of what Constantine had said Tim had already known, the location of where the military operations were occurring, the planned GRA counter-attack where the two main unknowns the Ambassador Knight would certainly pass along to the Office of Strategic Intelligence once the meeting was concluded.

The Aumanii using nukes on themselves was another interesting tidbit, but then again Tim wasn’t overly surprised, the Aumanii always did seem a little unhinged especially if one hadn’t met more than just their diplomats, which were another breed entirely it seemed like at times. However drastic times called for drastic measures and Tim wasn’t certain Numerigan military command wouldn’t do something similar if pressed to make a choice.

He scanned the pictures, a sick knot building in his stomach as he looked over the twisted forms of men and women corrupted by the machine sickness. Jenna to her credit drowned her drink and looked away before she herself became ill.

“I will need to go through the proper channels to make your request formal, I’m afraid I just don’t have the authority you see.” Tim said, he knew the higher-ups in the Numerigan military had been eager to cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war, the worry had been that Numerigan allies would allow them to throw themselves fully into the fight and absorb most the casualties. Now though it seemed the others were committed. Tim also knew there had been quiet ramp-ups in military productions across the board and war bonds had been pushed upon the populace lightly in an effort to drum up more cash for the build-up. He also knew once word got out of the machine disease spreading like wildfire Numerigans would throw themselves at the military to sign up for the war. A Grand Crusade to match the machine's own.

“I can comfortably say though if your government does feel like Avalon is secure we would likely shift the forces more to where they are more necessitated.” Tim said as he topped off everyone’s glasses again, more out of habit and to keep his hands busy.

“Jenna do you know what ground forces there are currently stationed in Avalon.” Tim asked as he took a drink off his glass.

Delacroix opened the folder she happened to have on her lap, a clear indication that the Numerigans expected to be asked for assistance, Tim smiled at Miller innocently to see if the Aumanii diplomat caught on.

“Currently stationed in Avalon is the 3rd Marine Expeditionary Fighting Force.” Delacroix said before she explained further. “An EFF is a self-sustaining organic fighting force, it should contain two mechanized infantry divisions, an armored division, and an atmospheric air wing.”

Miller gave Tim an impish smile and sharp nod of the head, "Sounds like one hell of an outfit… Lean, quick on their feet and the sort of people we need right now. Currently, the Welded are advancing on multiple fronts and moving so fast that there's no way we can properly mobilize the bulk of our land force element to effectively head them off. Our own Independent Brigades, LRRBs and Pioneer Companies are having a hell of a time pinning them down so that we can get units from the Army of the Sphere in to destroy them in detail. The Weld doesn't move or behave like a normal military."

Miller took a drag off his smoke and polished off his glass of rye before continuing, his voice now raspy from the bite of the liquor, "We have to worry about things like supply trains and logistics. When we make a move someplace, it's a fucking commitment. Planning has to go into keeping the army fed and the fleet supplied… The Weld is a different story altogether. They can source everything on-site. Everything they need to fight can be made from the carcass of the bastards they've mutilated."

“I can run a request up through the chain of command and see if resources can be allocated to the Aumanii theatre as well.” said Tim as he opened a matchbox and used one of them to light his cigar. He exhaled a large cloud of smoke studying the Fleet General for a reaction to the offer and for what he was about to say

“Resource denial is the obvious solution, here though, so the Numerigan High Command will recommend a ‘scorched earth’ campaign and want to pursue such a course of action, likely that will be the same for Leos.” said Tim as he blew out another large cloud of cigar smoke as he stared at Constantine. “The question to you Ms.Constantine is, is the GRA willing to pay the cost of losing the planet to save the system?”

Constantine hesitated, using a draw from her own cigar to buy her an extra moment. “If we must,” she says, finally. “But there are other considerations. The League’s internal politics are… delicate. If the GRA is perceived as abandoning Leos, the capital planet of another member nation, without doing everything in our power to retake it first… there will be repercussions. Too many factions in too many member nations are still suspicious that the League is a means by which to use their nations as a sort of ablative armor; the Leosians, Byzantines, and Myrr were reluctant to join in the first place for that reason and are also 3 of the 4 most populous of the nations. We can manage without them, but it would be a serious blow to our war efforts, especially with so many of our own forces tied up on the Nyteborne front. Because of those considerations, retaking Leos is the League Auxiliary’s and Starfleet’s current strategic objective.”

“I understand the desire to not lose face with one’s allies, Ms.Constantine, however, desperate times call for desperate measures. What we are seeing here is one interstellar threat that could very well extinguish all known life in the galaxy,” said Tim as he looked back and forth between the GRA and Aumanii diplomats.

“The only way to stop it cold is to root the problem out before the infestation has a chance to spread. Zealotry and ruthlessness must be our sword and shield as we begin to fight this menace and it must be thoroughly hunted down and eradicated no matter the cost.” Ambassador Knight said as he leaned back in his chair and took another drag of his cigar and blew out another cloud of smoke.

“May the gods have mercy on us all if we fail.”

[Fenvaria Republic]

Galactic Roundtable
Dornalian Space, Beta Quadrant
Milky Way Galaxy

(Joint post between Fenvaria Republic and Auman)

With a grunt a Fenvarian looked down at his watch, the holographic display shining a dull orange into his face. The clock read 23:40 Arcadia Time, then slowly started to tick up, with a sigh the Fenvarian let his arm fall to his side. “Five minutes late, fantastic” he mumbled to himself as he looked around in the shuttle. Around him stood three other Fenvarians, two of them were in a more relaxed version of the Mk VI combat armor that was favored so much by the Republic Armed Forces. When it came to armor, the troopers in the shuttle wore just the chest plate with their load bearing equipment and their jump kit. Instead of their helmets they wore army green patrol caps with their rank pinned right squarely in the center of the frontside. However, everything else stayed the same, the troopers used the same army green pea coats that extended down to their knees, grey battle dress uniforms, and black combat boots with dark grey boot covers.

The troopers even retained their standard issue shortswords which was more of a traditional thing rather than practical. They were also given standard issue M6 CIDWs, these pistols were highly favored by security forces due to its small size but effective stopping power. However, the lead Fenvarian was sure that they didn't need this sort of loadout as the Roundtable was in friendly space and the fens didn't really have any sort of enemies. But, he understood the choice by Foreign Affairs. The Fens were cautious at diplomatic meetings, hilariously almost paranoid when it comes to these types of things. As they were dealing with unpredictable and unknown nations that they never heard of. So, in a sense it was better to be borderline paranoid and cautious rather than walk in with no sort of security.

The lead diplomat then reached into his peacoat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigars, the two diplomats were dressed similarly to that of the troopers. However they lacked the body armor that the troopers wore, instead they opted for a more formal look albeit officer look as both were of officer rank. This meant they had a chest full of ribbons and gold lined jacket collars, no jump kits with just a pistol and shortsword. The lead diplomat opened the packet of cigars, pulling one from it and placed it in his mouth. He then placed the rest of the packet back and retrieved his lighter. He cupped his hands around the tip of the cigar and then flicked his lighter to life. With a spark a dim orange red light flared to life and slowly burned the end of the cigar. Killing the lighter he put it away and took a long drag, then blew out a small cloud of smoke.

One of the troopers looked over to him and waved away the cloud of smoke, the trooper started to frown and shake his head. “Sir, you know those things are bad for you.”

“Yes I do corporal, but I like the taste of them. Father smoked and the rest of my family smoked. It has not killed me yet, so eh.” the lead diplomat shrugged and grinned. “Plus, it makes me look quite classy.”

The corporal rolled their eyes and smiled “If you say so, sir.” Then from the front of the shuttle a pilot looked back and yelled.

“Alright, we are docking in 30 seconds, get your shit together. I don't want to hear any whining that you forgot something.” The pilot then gave a toothy grin, showing off their sharpened canine teeth before crackling with laugher.

The diplomat shook his head and smiled as well, he then reached down and picked up his rucksack. The rest of the diplomatic crew did the same and then stacked up near the door as the shuttle landed into the hangar bay. Then with a clunk the shuttle landed, shortly after the pilot’s voice could be heard again. “Thank you ladies and gentlemen for riding Fenvarian Diplomatic Airlines, please make sure all of your stuff is accounted for. Things in the overhead bins might have shifted during landing. Please exit through the exit in an orderly fashion.” the pilot then crackled once more as the door hissed open. Once the door opened the diplomatic crew was greeted by a dull light of the Roundtable Station hangar. The troopers were the first ones off the shuttle then it was followed by the diplomats. The lead diplomat then handed off his bag to his assistant.

“Head up to the office and put everything away.”

The assistant raised an eyebrow and looked at the lead diplomat, he then opened up his mouth in protest. “Where are you going, sir?”

The lead diplomat smiled and chuckled “I need to evaluate this station’s most important diplomatic setting.”

“The conference room?” asked the young Fenvarian

“No, the bar.” replied the lead diplomat as he looked towards his assistant. “Everyone knows that is where all of the most important deals are made.” he then grinned and chuckled, then turned around to walk away. One of the troopers then stepped forward to walk with the lead diplomat.

“Hold on, sir. You are not going alone.....I am under strict orders to ensure your safety, so I am coming along.” replied an evandari trooper with a dull silver coat.

“Sure, whatever.....” replied the lead diplomat with a shrug, the two walked off to the bar.

Later the two reached the bar, which was vibrant and alive, people were everywhere, drinking and partying. The trooper frowned and looked around giving everyone a death stare as he evaluated everyone as a threat. With a grin the lead diplomat looked at the trooper and shook his head. “Relax trooper....stop looking so stuck up.”

“Sorry sir, but this is a public area....who knows what could be out there.” replied the evandari trooper as he watched a group of people walk by. “Anyone could be an assassin...we do not know what sort of nations are out there and who holds a grudge.

“I know, however....the Republic is a newer nation, we have alot of show for. Granted us being apart of SATMA might be a blessing or a curse.” he then snickered “Who knows, all I know is that the Aumanii, Alexzonyans, Dornalians, Peninsularians and Phoenixi have all been rather kind to us. I'm sure we are making headway with some other nations near us, but for the most part we seem to fly under the radar.”

“I can't tell if that is a good or bad thing.” replied the trooper

The two then walked to the bar and sat down, he then snickered and grinned. “It is a good thing my friend. I rather not have a target painted on the republic’s back, plus us flying under the radar makes it rather fun to introduce ourselves as a society.” the lead diplomat ordered a full bottle of fenavrian vodka with nothing else. Nothing like a harsh drink from your homeland to ease yourself. He then held up the bottle and smiled “Ah, a nice bottle of Fenvarian Vodka....”

“It is quite nice sir.” replied the trooper

“It is, I miss drinking this stuff.” he grinned and popped off the top, picking up a shot glass he then started to pour. “Now, let us relax.”

"How's it going, Chief?" Came a voice over the Ambassador's shoulder. It was light, carefree, full of confidence and painfully human.

The bodyguard wheeled around and beheld a tall man, his skin was olive colored, his tightly curled hair was cut close to his scalp and his eyes were as green and predatory as a jungle cat. Despite the beaming smile and flowy beige suit that seemed to conceal a well muscled physique, the man had an air of danger that put the trooper at ill-ease.

"Kristo Siltala, is it? I'm Richard Montalbán." The human thrust out his hand.

The fenvarian diplomat turned his head and raised his eyebrow, carefully he looked at the human, evaluating him from head to toe. He wondered how this person knew his name, and what he was playing at. “Depends on who I am talking to” replied Kristo as he lifted his shot glass and drank it, grunting as he put down the glass. “And what the topic is.” Kristo then smiled and chuckled. “So, Richard....where are you from?”

The trooper on the other hand frowned and watched the two, softly placing his hand on his holster as he leaned against the bar counter. He didn't like the look of the bodyguard and how these two just showed up out of nowhere, it also made him uneasy that this man knew the diplomat’s name. However, he could have guessed that these two were from a diplomatic team and since Kristo and him were the only two Fenvarians here it would have been easy to guess that.

"Where am I from…" Richard seemed to really think about that for a moment. "Where do any of us come from, Kristo? Would you believe me if I was grown in a tube at the Vascilia City Normal University?"

A brief moment of tension passed between them before Richard brushed it away with a mirthful laugh, "I'm Aumanii, a friend, and I'm here to meet with you on behalf of the government of my people. Figured I'd meet you when you landed, it's what friends do."

He thrust his hand out once more, with a twinkle in his eye.

Grinning Kristo shook his hand and chuckled “Very well, I am Kristo....it is good to see a friend on this station.” He then brought out another shot glass and slid it to Richard. “Please forgive the concern and the misinformation, we are on a new station with alot of unknowns. So, it was best I kept some sort of security.” Kristo then started to pour Richard some vodka. “So what does a diplomat of the Aumanii wish to discuss? Trade? Military assistance?” Kristo then stopped pouring and lowered his voice and looked around, making sure that no one else was around them, before hunching over and leaning in a bit. He then whispered a simple phrase “Welded?”

Richard brushed the stubble of his chiseled jaw and looked around like a conspirator before leaving in and saying "That, of course… And more. Beyond the Welded, my benefactors have been working on an operation of, what we believe, will be of some interest to your government. The Welded, it's a done deal. We have to fight. The matter of when, where and with how much of what is better left to our men in uniform, the honchos… I can and will assure you that wherever the Fenvarians choose to fight, they will be backed by the full authority of the Co-Prosperity Sphere and that we will never let down our friends. We're brothers, you and I, even though it doesn't look like it… And because of this, my friend…"

Richard pushed a small mobile device across the bar to Kristo and said "Maria, unlock this phone and give access to Kristo Siltala."

A fluttering chime came from the device and a feminine voice said, professionally, "Access granted."

"It's not a huge data dump, but the particulars are in there. We left it vague, if you are interested, my number is in the contacts. You can call me, but only from that mobile and we can arrange another meeting, later. Somewhere less…" Montalbán flourished his hand and gave the bar a dubious look before continuing, "...Public."

Kristo took the phone and nodded, then looking over the device. With a grin he looked up and at Richard. “My friend, you forget the Republic is a nation of uniforms and brass.” he said in a friendly tone. “But I understand what you mean.” without another word he then pocketed the phone and looked around. “I will take a look at the info and give you a call with what my superior thinks, but in the meantime. Anything else you wish to discuss?”

"No, nothing yet. I look forward to your call. Have a nice day, Kris." Said Richard, abruptly turning his back and walking away.

Kristo nodded and looked down at the vodka that he poured for Richard, he shrugged and then picked it up, downing the entire shot. He then turned around and looked at the trooper next to him.

“What a strange fellow.” stated Kristo with a shake of his head. The trooper then looked at Kristo and cocked his eyebrow, curious about what Kristo said.

“What do you mean, sir?” asked the trooper

“The Aumanii are an interesting breed of human, careful, calculated, in the loop, and of course the best damn salesmen out there.” Kristo then picked up the phone and pocketed it, then he got up. Paying for his drink he then started to walk away from the bar, the trooper then followed out of the bar, slowly the two walked down the hall towards the Fenvarian diplomatic office.