Post by him on Dec 27, 2021 12:47:20 GMT
"The question is: how bad do things have to get before we will do something about it? Where is our line in the sand, our point of no return? What is that tipping point, that match in the haystack, that sends everything over the brink? How much blood must we all spill on our hands before we decide that enough is enough?
I ask you now, people of the galaxy. We have sat at the brink for decades, always edging our fingers over our nuclear footballs at the slightest offense, yet enslaved by the yoke of status quo. Now, the chain is broken, and we sit poised to dive into that murky deep, ready to kill or be killed if only to spite our peers with our last gasps. Shall this be our fate; eschewing our humanity for petty war on the scale beyond scaling? Is there truly no better way?”
—
Vendazi twiddled his thumbs in anticipation, as the vagrant echoes of a prominent Union antiwar advocate bounced around in his head. He found the speech quaint and naive, even if it made a good point; the ‘match in the haystack’ had already come and gone, with Aedleshaven turned into a quarantine for the Plaguebearer and Natar and co. tearing through themselves at the seams, dragging all their allies and associates into the abyss through the writing of one stupid report.
He’d been called here for a clandestine meeting with the Zetyans, although the specifics weren’t given beyond ‘diplomacy’. He suspected as to why; a few days before the Aedleshaven incident, they’d secured a pact with Orillia-to the great chagrin of his superiors-and just a few days ago now, the Lithorians had announced the founding of ACOM with their extensive network. A slippery foe, and one that certainly required attention.
He had little time to ponder that train of thought, however, as the door opened. A familiar face, if only because they seemed to have low stock of important diplomats.
“Ah, you’re Fg’han, right?” he said, as a greeting. He’d never met him before, but his peers had pegged him as ‘the important guy they send to meet with us’.
“Yes. ..Have we met?”
“No. You’re known in our diplomatic offices, though.”
“Ah. Explains that bit.” he mused, sitting down as he spoke. The table was oddly wide, and surrounded by chairs; more like a repurposed board meeting room than a proper one-to-one chamber.
“So, what calls me here today?”
“Simple. ACOM, the bug org, has some heads rattled.” he replied, revealing a corded cigar, lighting it in his mouth as the pulling pin fell to the floor. “You’ll be surprised though; it’s not my bosses that are w-worried the most.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“You know Umpreta, Kolura, Helis, our early pacts? Turns out, they’ve had the same idea as the bugs cooking up in their heads for a while. Did plenty of n-networking, got some friends together, the whole s-shebang, and once they were s-satisfied with how many friends they gathered they were g-gonna give us an inning. They didn’t expect AC-COM, though, and that’s got t-them freaked out overtime.”
“...and they did all this without our knowledge? Did they even inform you people of this??” Vendazi asked with a tone of incredulence.
“A few hours after ACOM.”
“And-and you see no problem with this? At all?” He found his voice raising unconsciously.
“I do, actually. Made sure my s-superiors knew about them, too. But with ACOM out and about, the bugs can throw m-more of their weight around than ever before, a-and if their performance at Moloch is any indication we need a support network here and-d now to take what they’ve got.”
“Besides, worst case scenario,” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “We can deal with them. Especially with what we got c-cooking up.”
Vendazi was atleast comforted by the fact that they weren’t exactly trusting of this ‘plan’ either. It reeked of a backroom plan, though what it was he couldn’t place. Protection, perhaps? Or political manipulation, or resource funneling, or…
He decided to shove the theorymaking to the backburner for now. There was a time and a place, and it wasn’t right now.
“...then I want to talk to them. Where can I find their representatives? Which planets?”
“Right now? Here, outside.”
“...wait, what?”
“Yep. I’m the briefing guy.”
He pressed a button on his smartwrist, and soon three others entered the room. A corporate suit, a well-dressed ant, and a… an octopus.
“Ah, you must be the Isoterran representative. I do believe we have much to discuss, no…?”
Today was going to be a troublingly long day.
—
“How many days until activation now?”
“One week, maximum.”
“...Wasn’t it three?”
“Was. Our mutual friends pitched a hand. Now all we need’s the externals and a prayer.”
Ki’nak Volnisa stared at a datagraph, various statistics he didn’t quite understand flitting up and down and a graph of the nearly complete Project Dreamweaver rotating around. All that was needed was the tips of the spires, the lower reticulate’s plating, and the finishing touches on an outer spike.
Internally, he worried about scheduling. Not that it threw his plans into disarray, just that it’d be a bitch to get everything all clear for the activation day. But, it would be done, and with it’s activation they could finally get their fleet upgrades sent out in force.
“Excuse me-me? Mr. Voriarch guy?” An assistant came running up to him. A runt assistant. He wondered how one got past the guards.
“What? I’m busy with things, how’d you-?”
“Bossman W’toa say you-you need-wanted. He-guy say bighuge deal went through.”
“Deal? W.. what de-”
Realization, while slow to arrive, soon settled on his face. A grin soon sneaked past as well, and made itself known loud and proud.
“Ohhhhh-hoh-hoh, shit.”
—
PRODREP 21937972a834YUA-M
PROJECT GOAL REPORT___________
A
SUBPROJ-MSS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
B
SUBPROJ-MDS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
DEPLOYMENT SUCCESS— CLEARANCED
C
SUBPROJ-MOS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
DEPLOYMENT SUCCESS— CLEARANCED
D
SUBPROJ-MSPS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
DEPLOYMENT SUCCESS— REFINEMENT CLEARANCED
E
SUBPROJ-MPS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
DEPLOYMENT SUCCESS— CLEARANCED
F
SUBPROJ-MIS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
DEPLOYMENT NEEDED— AWAITING COMPLETION OF ▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉
S(T)
EVALUATION: UNANIMOUS SUCCESS
DEPLOYMENT: UNANIMOUS RECOMMENDATION
—
“Is it time?”
The Umpretan stood in the backroom of a political convention hall, as service androids adjusted and cleaned his suit to the micrometer. Snappy service, and they made you look like you came right out of White Maginot for a few hours, but damned if they didn’t take their sweet time.
“One minute to midnight, my friend. Make it snappy.”
His boss disappeared to who knows where, as the gaggle of service androids deemed his suit to be to their standards and left, proceeding to clean the room with a stiffness you could only see in cleaner robots.
Soon, he was out in a hall, a brisk walk taking him from hall to hall to backstage to stage entrance. A straightening of the tie, a dusting of the shoulders, and soon he stepped into the lightshow of paparazzi, the only thing preventing him from being blinded at that moment being a pair of sunglasses and a pair of adaptive contacts specially made for paparazzi gatherings.
A podium, a speech, and a few holoprojectors were now his world. He loaded the words into his throat, cocked his vocal chords, and after the press quieted down started firing them with the trained, bland voice of a corporate public speaker.
“Friends, colleagues, and all who have come to watch this occasion.
Today, I, and many others to follow, now come before you, because today is a day of great bonding between nations. The galaxy stands on the precipice of total war, and recent developments have ensured that we cannot stand by while our beloved home tears itself apart piece by piece.
The foundation of ACOM but a few days ago is only one of many of our cries for true unity amongst the galaxy's nations, having been silenced in the name of 'stability' and 'peace'. And now we see that the dominant power's definition of 'peace' in our time, is little more than a house of cards. A single report, a single terrible incident, and all of it buckles and collapses under it's own weight, a domino chain that leads only to galactic anarchy in the end. Even now, we see formerly respectable nations degrade to new lows over Aedleshaven, even the Autonomists themselves. And every party has made the inevitable all but clear; war is coming, terrible and debaucherous, and it comes very soon.”
He chose not to mention the political condemnation of ACOM on the sheet just yet. While it’d make the press go wild with reports of drama, he was told this would already kick off it’s own cold war with who was going to be members of it; no need to take a torch to a matchstick.
He now continued to the next paragraph. The more he read, the more he realized how cheesy this probably sounded, as the press murmured to themselves between the chorus of near-blinding snapshots.
“And so today, I come before you all tonight on behalf of many, to announce with pride the foundation of the Invilis Confederation of Ancerious. It, like many other pacts that have and shall be formed, intends to be a buffer against both these chaotic times and the woes to come; where all members are equal, and provide equally; where security is guaranteed, and brotherhood is assured. And, most importantly, where all who wish to join can do so, without worry of rank or status between members.”
“This is not merely an alliance formed only with paper and pen, however. Indeed, there are many who will be members of this coalition, and I would be loathe to not let their voices be hard.”
The Koluran representative came up first to his left, as well as the Helisian rep to his right.
“We of the Espa Kolura know firsthand how brotherhood is necessary for the foundation of sovereignties. It is the blood of nations and men, and without it what do we have beyond distrust for our fellow [man]? This is no mere alliance, but the unity of many more.”
“And we of the Helis Initiative have seen firsthand what disunity does to nations. It makes them barbarous, unhinged, ready for war at the slightest notice. We have bonded with our brothers once before; it is senseless not to do so again.”
And next to them, came a rat and a wolf.
“We of the Clanholds…
“And we of the Isoterrans…”
“...have each had our unity forged in fire. Once, we were fractured, choking ourselves with our blood and bone. But our lessons have been learnt, and to stop our course now would only lead back to the dark forest from whence we came.”
He guessed the reason the Clanholds guy spoke the rest of it was because the Isoterrans would’ve looked like fish out of water if they spoke about their actual views under this flowery language pretense. But who was he to judge? This schtick was being founded by a megacorporation, ants and some octopoids.
Several more followed, each giving their own spiel on how they viewed the founding of ICA. It ended with the Kless-and-Soorans, bringing their total member count present to 11. Respectable in paper, but a confusing clown car of ideologies in practice.
“As you can see, it is not one, but many who have lent their hands to ICA’s founding. Each member has their reasons, and each understands the true purpose of an alliance. And so, on behalf of all present, and of all who may join in the future, I announce again the official founding of ICA, with the hope that we may yet see a better future through it’s becoming.
Thank you for listening. For those present, I will now take questions…”
—
The broadcast shut off, as the organic psioniscreen retracted a green-glowing antennae into it’s interior. A gaggle of Lithorian bioforms sat, pondering what they had just seen occur with a silence palpable enough to cut glass.
Are… are they serious? Th-..they can’t be serious.
A chuckle escaped the form that had ‘spoke’. Another followed, a wet and gurgly noise that sounded like a wet trash bag full of mucus being jostled around.
I-I think they, they are. Another said, beginning to crack up internally as it’s thoughtvoice wavered. A meatier chuckle escaped from that form as well.
Oh, by the Queen, this, this is…
…ha…
…hahaha…..
…hahahahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
Every bioform in the room began to laugh both in and out with the force of a thousand suns, a mirthful choir of horrendous wet meat noises that would make a normal sentient cringe and vomit within seconds. Oh, what a sight it was, and what a sight they had seen! The wolves, a megacorporation, a misogynist clique and a dynastic empire spewing tripe about unity…oh, it could make a bioform expunge!
As they joked and belly-laughed as best they could, one wondered how they were going to break the news to their superiors without even the slightest of giggles…
I ask you now, people of the galaxy. We have sat at the brink for decades, always edging our fingers over our nuclear footballs at the slightest offense, yet enslaved by the yoke of status quo. Now, the chain is broken, and we sit poised to dive into that murky deep, ready to kill or be killed if only to spite our peers with our last gasps. Shall this be our fate; eschewing our humanity for petty war on the scale beyond scaling? Is there truly no better way?”
—
Vendazi twiddled his thumbs in anticipation, as the vagrant echoes of a prominent Union antiwar advocate bounced around in his head. He found the speech quaint and naive, even if it made a good point; the ‘match in the haystack’ had already come and gone, with Aedleshaven turned into a quarantine for the Plaguebearer and Natar and co. tearing through themselves at the seams, dragging all their allies and associates into the abyss through the writing of one stupid report.
He’d been called here for a clandestine meeting with the Zetyans, although the specifics weren’t given beyond ‘diplomacy’. He suspected as to why; a few days before the Aedleshaven incident, they’d secured a pact with Orillia-to the great chagrin of his superiors-and just a few days ago now, the Lithorians had announced the founding of ACOM with their extensive network. A slippery foe, and one that certainly required attention.
He had little time to ponder that train of thought, however, as the door opened. A familiar face, if only because they seemed to have low stock of important diplomats.
“Ah, you’re Fg’han, right?” he said, as a greeting. He’d never met him before, but his peers had pegged him as ‘the important guy they send to meet with us’.
“Yes. ..Have we met?”
“No. You’re known in our diplomatic offices, though.”
“Ah. Explains that bit.” he mused, sitting down as he spoke. The table was oddly wide, and surrounded by chairs; more like a repurposed board meeting room than a proper one-to-one chamber.
“So, what calls me here today?”
“Simple. ACOM, the bug org, has some heads rattled.” he replied, revealing a corded cigar, lighting it in his mouth as the pulling pin fell to the floor. “You’ll be surprised though; it’s not my bosses that are w-worried the most.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“You know Umpreta, Kolura, Helis, our early pacts? Turns out, they’ve had the same idea as the bugs cooking up in their heads for a while. Did plenty of n-networking, got some friends together, the whole s-shebang, and once they were s-satisfied with how many friends they gathered they were g-gonna give us an inning. They didn’t expect AC-COM, though, and that’s got t-them freaked out overtime.”
“...and they did all this without our knowledge? Did they even inform you people of this??” Vendazi asked with a tone of incredulence.
“A few hours after ACOM.”
“And-and you see no problem with this? At all?” He found his voice raising unconsciously.
“I do, actually. Made sure my s-superiors knew about them, too. But with ACOM out and about, the bugs can throw m-more of their weight around than ever before, a-and if their performance at Moloch is any indication we need a support network here and-d now to take what they’ve got.”
“Besides, worst case scenario,” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “We can deal with them. Especially with what we got c-cooking up.”
Vendazi was atleast comforted by the fact that they weren’t exactly trusting of this ‘plan’ either. It reeked of a backroom plan, though what it was he couldn’t place. Protection, perhaps? Or political manipulation, or resource funneling, or…
He decided to shove the theorymaking to the backburner for now. There was a time and a place, and it wasn’t right now.
“...then I want to talk to them. Where can I find their representatives? Which planets?”
“Right now? Here, outside.”
“...wait, what?”
“Yep. I’m the briefing guy.”
He pressed a button on his smartwrist, and soon three others entered the room. A corporate suit, a well-dressed ant, and a… an octopus.
“Ah, you must be the Isoterran representative. I do believe we have much to discuss, no…?”
Today was going to be a troublingly long day.
—
“How many days until activation now?”
“One week, maximum.”
“...Wasn’t it three?”
“Was. Our mutual friends pitched a hand. Now all we need’s the externals and a prayer.”
Ki’nak Volnisa stared at a datagraph, various statistics he didn’t quite understand flitting up and down and a graph of the nearly complete Project Dreamweaver rotating around. All that was needed was the tips of the spires, the lower reticulate’s plating, and the finishing touches on an outer spike.
Internally, he worried about scheduling. Not that it threw his plans into disarray, just that it’d be a bitch to get everything all clear for the activation day. But, it would be done, and with it’s activation they could finally get their fleet upgrades sent out in force.
“Excuse me-me? Mr. Voriarch guy?” An assistant came running up to him. A runt assistant. He wondered how one got past the guards.
“What? I’m busy with things, how’d you-?”
“Bossman W’toa say you-you need-wanted. He-guy say bighuge deal went through.”
“Deal? W.. what de-”
Realization, while slow to arrive, soon settled on his face. A grin soon sneaked past as well, and made itself known loud and proud.
“Ohhhhh-hoh-hoh, shit.”
—
PRODREP 21937972a834YUA-M
PROJECT GOAL REPORT___________
A
SUBPROJ-MSS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
DEPLOYMENT SUCCESS— CLEARANCED
S
SUBPROJ-MDS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
DEPLOYMENT SUCCESS— CLEARANCED
S
SUBPROJ-MOS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
DEPLOYMENT SUCCESS— CLEARANCED
S
SUBPROJ-MSPS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
DEPLOYMENT SUCCESS— REFINEMENT CLEARANCED
S(R)
SUBPROJ-MPS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
DEPLOYMENT SUCCESS— CLEARANCED
S
SUBPROJ-MIS
TEST SUCCESS— PROTOTYPE SUCCESS—
DEPLOYMENT NEEDED— AWAITING COMPLETION OF ▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉
S(T)
EVALUATION: UNANIMOUS SUCCESS
DEPLOYMENT: UNANIMOUS RECOMMENDATION
—
“Is it time?”
The Umpretan stood in the backroom of a political convention hall, as service androids adjusted and cleaned his suit to the micrometer. Snappy service, and they made you look like you came right out of White Maginot for a few hours, but damned if they didn’t take their sweet time.
“One minute to midnight, my friend. Make it snappy.”
His boss disappeared to who knows where, as the gaggle of service androids deemed his suit to be to their standards and left, proceeding to clean the room with a stiffness you could only see in cleaner robots.
Soon, he was out in a hall, a brisk walk taking him from hall to hall to backstage to stage entrance. A straightening of the tie, a dusting of the shoulders, and soon he stepped into the lightshow of paparazzi, the only thing preventing him from being blinded at that moment being a pair of sunglasses and a pair of adaptive contacts specially made for paparazzi gatherings.
A podium, a speech, and a few holoprojectors were now his world. He loaded the words into his throat, cocked his vocal chords, and after the press quieted down started firing them with the trained, bland voice of a corporate public speaker.
“Friends, colleagues, and all who have come to watch this occasion.
Today, I, and many others to follow, now come before you, because today is a day of great bonding between nations. The galaxy stands on the precipice of total war, and recent developments have ensured that we cannot stand by while our beloved home tears itself apart piece by piece.
The foundation of ACOM but a few days ago is only one of many of our cries for true unity amongst the galaxy's nations, having been silenced in the name of 'stability' and 'peace'. And now we see that the dominant power's definition of 'peace' in our time, is little more than a house of cards. A single report, a single terrible incident, and all of it buckles and collapses under it's own weight, a domino chain that leads only to galactic anarchy in the end. Even now, we see formerly respectable nations degrade to new lows over Aedleshaven, even the Autonomists themselves. And every party has made the inevitable all but clear; war is coming, terrible and debaucherous, and it comes very soon.”
He chose not to mention the political condemnation of ACOM on the sheet just yet. While it’d make the press go wild with reports of drama, he was told this would already kick off it’s own cold war with who was going to be members of it; no need to take a torch to a matchstick.
He now continued to the next paragraph. The more he read, the more he realized how cheesy this probably sounded, as the press murmured to themselves between the chorus of near-blinding snapshots.
“And so today, I come before you all tonight on behalf of many, to announce with pride the foundation of the Invilis Confederation of Ancerious. It, like many other pacts that have and shall be formed, intends to be a buffer against both these chaotic times and the woes to come; where all members are equal, and provide equally; where security is guaranteed, and brotherhood is assured. And, most importantly, where all who wish to join can do so, without worry of rank or status between members.”
“What happened to ‘no hostile jabs at ACOM’?’” he couldn’t help but mumble in his mind. Pushing his thoughts away, he continued as the holoprojectors turned on with a whirr.
The Koluran representative came up first to his left, as well as the Helisian rep to his right.
“We of the Espa Kolura know firsthand how brotherhood is necessary for the foundation of sovereignties. It is the blood of nations and men, and without it what do we have beyond distrust for our fellow [man]? This is no mere alliance, but the unity of many more.”
“And we of the Helis Initiative have seen firsthand what disunity does to nations. It makes them barbarous, unhinged, ready for war at the slightest notice. We have bonded with our brothers once before; it is senseless not to do so again.”
And next to them, came a rat and a wolf.
“We of the Clanholds…
“And we of the Isoterrans…”
“...have each had our unity forged in fire. Once, we were fractured, choking ourselves with our blood and bone. But our lessons have been learnt, and to stop our course now would only lead back to the dark forest from whence we came.”
He guessed the reason the Clanholds guy spoke the rest of it was because the Isoterrans would’ve looked like fish out of water if they spoke about their actual views under this flowery language pretense. But who was he to judge? This schtick was being founded by a megacorporation, ants and some octopoids.
Several more followed, each giving their own spiel on how they viewed the founding of ICA. It ended with the Kless-and-Soorans, bringing their total member count present to 11. Respectable in paper, but a confusing clown car of ideologies in practice.
“As you can see, it is not one, but many who have lent their hands to ICA’s founding. Each member has their reasons, and each understands the true purpose of an alliance. And so, on behalf of all present, and of all who may join in the future, I announce again the official founding of ICA, with the hope that we may yet see a better future through it’s becoming.
Thank you for listening. For those present, I will now take questions…”
—
The broadcast shut off, as the organic psioniscreen retracted a green-glowing antennae into it’s interior. A gaggle of Lithorian bioforms sat, pondering what they had just seen occur with a silence palpable enough to cut glass.
Finally, one broke the pane of silence, it’s thoughts silently racing into it’s cohorts minds in a literal instant.
A chuckle escaped the form that had ‘spoke’. Another followed, a wet and gurgly noise that sounded like a wet trash bag full of mucus being jostled around.
I-I think they, they are. Another said, beginning to crack up internally as it’s thoughtvoice wavered. A meatier chuckle escaped from that form as well.
Oh, by the Queen, this, this is…
…ha…
…hahaha…..
…hahahahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
Every bioform in the room began to laugh both in and out with the force of a thousand suns, a mirthful choir of horrendous wet meat noises that would make a normal sentient cringe and vomit within seconds. Oh, what a sight it was, and what a sight they had seen! The wolves, a megacorporation, a misogynist clique and a dynastic empire spewing tripe about unity…oh, it could make a bioform expunge!
As they joked and belly-laughed as best they could, one wondered how they were going to break the news to their superiors without even the slightest of giggles…