Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived The Inner Empire

[Tiko]

as written by Emperor Jester

The quadrant was silent, as silent as empty space could be, as silent as it always had been. But this would be interrupted, if only for a blink of eternity, as crackling green and violet energies began to gather around a single focal point. Thankfully, space did not yield to sound, so the ensuing chaos was peacefully unheard. A spacial rip, as if a micro-singularity was forming then and there, despite the lack of any and all materials such an event would normally require.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, it was over. A personal freighter of unknown origin appeared in the void, accompanied by a relatively massive pulse of radioactive kinetic energy. Its port and starboard sides were adorned with an odd, never before seen sigil, a swath of royal purple and ebony with a multi-tiered golden ring adorning the otherwise pristine hull of the vehicle.

It sat there, for moments, the destructive panic occurring inside unknown to outside observers. Crucial parts of the ship were failing, and the small crew were doing their best to get things under control. They were doing a decent job of sorts as well, but it wasn't long before the captain of the mysterious vessel sent out a broad-wave distress signal, knowing full well that the odds of some one, anyone, answering the ensuing plea for assistance was unlikely...and even if they did, who knew if they'd bring salvation, or further strife...

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman

It was fortunate for this newcomer that it arrived where it did, even if it did so haphazardly, as before it lay the jewel of the Inner Empire, the commercial super-world of Neu-Lumen. On either flank were trade lanes, massive convoys of interstellar traffic that were moving to designated jump points, largely civilian or corporate in composition some thousands of kilometers away. If they'd come in but a fraction of an AU closer, it could've meant decorating the bow of some Sterngandr freighter. Instead they simply rested in the void, dealing with their own quiet crisis, until they broadcasted the general distress signal. Of course, even before they did such, the second the spatial rift began to form the powers that be took notice.

There were reports from the trade lanes, indeed there still were several filtering in reporting the appearance of this new, unidentified contact: some were panicked, some were curious, some simply didn't want to suffer the consequences of not reporting its arrival. Already the various powers that controlled Neu-Lumen debated amongst themselves who should be the ones to meet this new contact, whether out of fear or ambition, from House Arqa to House Dollmann. The discourse didn't last long enough for a clear victor to emerge before all the squabbling was cut short by a bold, curt message from the Syndicate headquarters on-world.

It's ours.

The foreign freighter would have several minutes more to itself, broadcasting its transmission and working on their own issues, before anything came to greet it. What did was, for lack of a better term, titanic. A single gargantuan arrowhead sliced through the space where it had been station in the system, slowing with a sharpness rarely seen among civilian craft as it came to loom over the GCUT vessel, the Klinge trained its weapons on the minuscule contact more out of precaution than any genuine consideration of threat. It was largely smooth, save for the twin lines of apparatuses and docking bays that ran along its spine and the hundreds of weapons that dotted its form, its two primary flanks bearing the sun sigil of the Syndicate. Broadcast in all known languages on the frequency the distress signal was on, the battleship addressed this unknown arrival.


"Attention unknown vessel, you have trespassed in the sovereign territory of the Supremacy and Syndicate strategic sector B7R. Identify yourself and your intentions."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Emperor Jester and Krysis

The ship would float there for what seemed an eternity, though in reality, it took less than five minutes for the Platinum Edge to respond the hail. The message would be garbled, but the language that came through seemed surprisingly similar to that of those on board the Syndicate Ship. It would be a video channel the GCUT WoF class freighter would attempt to open, so that Captain Torvald could answer.

The voice the proceeded the image was young, but obviously a man grown. It sounded enthusiastic, despite or perhaps because of the circumstances. The figure that dominated the screen wore a paramilitary uniform, the garb of the SSSF's Ivory Star, a prestigious branch of the GCUT Mercantile Navy, though the helmet was tucked under an arm. The young, cream-skinned face topped with hair the color of dark chocolate was worse for the ware. A cut above the left eye coated the side of his face with blood, sweating insanely, flushed and obviously cooking alive.

The first words out of his mouth were "Thank my salary!" And then he'd immediately cut himself off with nervous, but jubilant laughter before continuing shakily. "My name is Torvald Accetur, Commodore of the Platinum, a naval vessel of the Global Coalition of Unified Tradesmen, hailing from astral coordinates X78-4K. On a scouting mission when our prototype engine malfunctioned and over-rode our FTL parameters. Things have been pretty hectic here but my men are putting out the fires as we speak." Another set of nervous laughter as their scanners came back online.

This ship was something potentially dangerous. The Edge might be a military grade ship, but it was still a micro-freighter. With cautious optimism, the young officer would finally ask, "So hows your day going?"

____

Normally, Lady Monika Stier was content to let others relay her messages. After all, she was supposed to delegate and direct, they were supposed to work. That was what it meant to be a noble. Being the commanding officer of a Klinge was just an extension of the same. So it was with distaste that she regarded the screen that the male voice was associated with.

Tall and painfully thin, with her long blonde waves arranged rigidly where they spilled over the grey shoulders of her uniform, the woman didn't quite sneer into the lens, but it was close. The cold beauty stared down her very straight nose at Torvald Accetur before the crimson lips deigned to let a syllable pass.

His final question stalled every thought in her head though and made Monika blink in shock. "How is my--? What is this nonsense?"

She made a harsh gesture then and gave a slight shake of her head, angry inside that she let some foolish commoner (he sounds like a commoner at least) fluster her at all. "Power down everything you have. Emergency assistance teams will arrive momentarily and evacuate your crew until such a time as your vessel can be made safe for repairs. Even if it is an accident, you have arrived in the orbit of a densely populated planet with a military vessel, and you will be treated as a hostile alien invader."

Monika leaned towards the screen then, looming large on the video call. "If you resist evacuation and quarantine, you will be shot. Do I make myself clear?"

He had really flustered her. Lady Stier had forgotten to batter Tovald with all her impressive sounding titles, much less give her name.

____

Torvald would balk. He'd be briefed on the protocol that was to be taken if first contact was established with people like this. Obviously they didn't see the profit in offering to help strangers for free. Especially if you know you have the power to crush them. It was obvious their weapons systems were offline, and even if they weren't, what would it have mattered? It didn't take much to figure out that the Edge was in hot water, one way or another. Still, there was a streak of snarky jackass to him, and the young Officer couldn't help but redouble the efforts on his smile.

"Coming in loud and clear, Miss Lady. Might be a tad difficult. Can't really power down our life supports systems, can we? So we'll power down everything other than that, as you wish." And then, like a switch, before Monica would have a chance to reply, it was like a whole other voice came barking out of the youthful foreigner. One with authority, earned authority, someone who had lived their life giving and receiving orders.

"You heard our savior! Get those shields offline! Cut off the long range scanners and communications! Engineer Brucko, maintain our exact position and then stall the engines! Now people!" After all, despite the aloofness, Torvald had been pulled into the SSSF at the Onefian age of nine and three quarters.

After a brief pause, a long exhale to steady himself, he'd meet Monica's eyes on the screen once more. "My men will be as quick as we can. Several are hurt. What are the chances of having medical teams on alert for when you board?"

____

This was why Monika usually made a subordinate do the menial communications. Social situations were something that she was not comfortable with, and always flubbed. This seemed to be a foreign ship though, and that required that she, as the highest ranked officer on board, be the face of the Supremacy. No matter how much she hated it.

She straightened with that haughty stare she used as her shield, "Life support and communications can remain active until the last person comes off the ship. No air means no fire and reduces the hazard to your ship immensely, which is why I am asking you to have it ready to shut down."

As she talked about the actual mechanics of her instructions, explaining perhaps too much, Lady Stier relaxed a little. Dealing with the nature of a problem was more her style, and while focused on those details and the reasons behind them, she lost a little of the cold edge. "Medical teams will be part of the rescue operation, Commodore Accetur. If you could send us a crew manifest, it would be helpful. We wouldn't want anyone left behind, after all. We'll get your people out of harm's way and patched up, and then see what can be done to salvage your Platinum."

Someone in the background spoke to the rigid seeming blonde, making her look over her shoulder briefly before she looked into the screen once more, "Lady Monika Stier, Commander of the Klinge class vessel BB-3372, welcomes you to the The Scatterran Hegemony."

____

An equally battered and bruised ensign would run onto the viewing field that Monica behind, but Torvald quickly held up an open hand to his subordinate. Slowly, his eyes would narrow, staring daggers into the Heg noble. The Ivory pilot had not been instructed by his superiors to keep the details of their mission and ship a secret, but still, this was his ship. He was her captain, and there was a word that had caught him completely off guard, which resulted in tense, harsh, on-edge tune to be used. "What...do you mean by salvage?"

____

The blonde had been reaching for the signal to end the call, but at that question, she paused and raised one elegant eyebrow. Her crimson lips quirked in a faint smile, "What else do you call it when you have to tow a ship in for assessment and repairs? I don't intend to confiscate it, if that is your worry."

She gave a brushing off gesture and added, "Medical crews are on the way."

____

And as soon as Torvald realized it had simply been a mistake in communication, his voice returned to it chipper, flippant tone, a sloppy grin joining in on the fun. "With all due respect, ma'am, I doubt you'll all be able to repair it, but I assure you, we aboard are thankful for your tow. And all the offers to help, really. Truth be told, we didn't know what to expect when we finally stopped, but things could've been a lot worse."

The young Captain would place three of his fingers, five fingered like her, to his temples before swiping them off and away from his face, a very simple salute, and the video feed would end from Torvald's end as everything finally powered down, minus the specified systems. A hand would instantly find his chin, in a standing, contemplative stance. He'd whisper to himself as he moved away from his pilot's chair, walking among his men while choosing to ignore them all the while.

"The Scatterran...Hegemony? They've given us a name, and not much else. Too early to determine if we're technologically superior yet...Would be a shame if we came all this way and made first contact with an economic equal...Still..." He'd fidget with a badge on his uniform then. An odd, reflective, semi-sphere of black glass or metal, perhaps a gem of sorts, resting on a six-pointed cross. A recording and long-range broadcasting device, being channeled on a...well, the range of the technobabble was outside of Torvald's intellect, but needless to say, it was as hidden and encrypted as a broadcast could get.

If it was even still transmitting. Who knew? It didn't even come up on the Platinum's scanners, and it was a top-of-the-line prototype, the best the Company could produce. Still, it might make things awkward if he had to explain something. If the woman had been any indication, the Hegemony were no where near as receptive to strangers as the GCUT. Explaining a device like this might...damper some moods. Not to mention the other cutting edge piece of machinery this vessel housed.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman, Krysis, and Emperor Jester

Not long after the battleship had made contact with this new vessel did a second line of communication make itself known, a hail from the planet nearby, though it could have easily been just been bounced off the world from a far more distant source. It bore no common identification though it was marked top priority, For Commanding Officer's Eyes Only to be precise, the ticking light alongside what little data was sent showed that it was a live feed. Interstellar communications weren't simple collect calls, and live interstellar calls were something that only a handful of individuals and institutions in the Supremacy could afford.

Once the lady Stier was on her own, or at least far enough away from the rabble that she could answer this hail, she'd see a dimly-lit office, the stark, modern edge betraying its Syndicate origins, dominated by a central desk and a keen-eyed, reserved figure sitting behind it. It would've been hard to make out her features against the overwhelming blue glow of the massive aquarium behind her were it not for the soft, orange light that shown on her face, revealing one of Monika's superiors - the renowned, and reclusive, Renate Brenig. The well-tailored jacket she wore made the woman appear a hint more broad, more martial, than she otherwise would have as she leaned forward, seeing that the hail had been accepted.

"... lady Stier? It's good to see you." The CEO of Brenig Shipworks assumed a practiced, measured smile, the flared collar of her blouse revealing a jeweled pendant - something marked with the sigil of her own house. "It's come to my attention that you have encountered a most curious vessel." Sharp Azrican cheekbones accented Austran eyes, narrowed as if she were a predator - a hawk - having caught a glimpse of its quarry.

"I would very much like to know more about it."

____

While Monika was standing in front of the screen in the office of the commanding officer, she had to take it on faith that the marines and the promised rescue personnel were on route to the Platinum Edge. A message from her superior took priority over her pacing the bridge and keeping an eye on things to be sure all went well. There wasn't much she could do if the worst should happen anyway, and she had trained her immediate subordinates well.

She disguised her unease with her usual prideful look, and a parade stance to hide behind her back the agitated tapping of her graceful fingers. Her lips twisted a bit at the thought of 'Commodore' Torvald Accetur having to face Renate Brenig in any setting at all, much less a formal one. What the expression would have ended up as was unknown as it vanished immediately anyway. "I suspect we will learn much about them, ma'am. Their ship is disabled, and they won't be going anywhere without assistance. Especially when I get their crew off of it."

She checked her transcription of the initial contact with the foreign vessel to make sure she got the name right, "This 'Global Coalition of Unified Tradesmen' is unfamiliar to me, but I haven't had a chance to check any references to see if they are known to the Supremacy. Of course you have access to files that I do not, so please pardon my reports if they contain information you already have, ma'am. Their commanding officer claimed that they have a prototype engine that malfunctioned, so even if they are known to us, this particular ship has something new."

Lady Stier glanced away from her superior for a moment, looking at another screen to see how the drop ships were progressing. She spared a smile for the thought of the effect the massive marines would have on that impertinent creature that dared to question her motives. She didn't realize that she murmured out loud, "Serves him right. He'll mind his manners now.".

____

Despite his anxious waiting slowly driving him insane, Torvald almost dreaded the arrival of the rescue party. Something about the way that woman had carried himself seemed...indicative...of things to come. Still, this was his ship, despite what anyone in this star system seemed to think, and the Commodore had taken efforts to ensure that stay the case. The GCUT had sent them here to find business partners and mercantile trade, not to be bullied. It would not be stood for.

From the outside, the Edge appeared to be in above average condition for a ship in the middle of a potentially critical engine failure. The marine medical ship would find the primary docking doors needed a little physical labor to open completely, but most if not all primary systems had been restored in the short amount of time the stranded crew had been waiting. Still, if the marines had any sort of device with them capable of detecting radiation, those would certainly be reacting.

The halls of the foreign ship were almost completely stark white, with only the occasional strip of black, royal purple, or gold to break up the monotony. Air composition would be merely identical, except for a higher concentration of Argon, so at least the air wasn't toxic. Still, at least in the initial five minutes of boarding, the rescue team wouldn't encounter any of the people they'd been sent to pick up.

____

Twin Schwalbe frigates flanked the Zwerg class space-tug as it neared the foreign vessel, both moving wide to the Edge's flanks once they neared it. The tug simply came to a ponderous stop off the GCUT craft's bow as the marine contingents on its escorts readied themselves for the flight over. Sensors were going wild of course, their readings betraying the condition of the other vessel's engine and reactor, giving some pause to the detachments that were instructed to board the craft, though orders were orders. Soon enough a single dropship moved from one of the frigates to the craft, docking easily enough and disgorging the squad of marines and small medical team that accompanied them. The marines were both a precaution and insurance, there to protect the medical team as well as the ship itself from any rash action, and the small number of those boarding partially out of concern for losses due to the ship's apparent malfunctions.

The marines' weapons were ready, but not raised, as they spilled into the halls of the Platinum Edge, followed, almost sheepishly, by the medics. The lack of greeting surprised and worried the newcomers, as they relayed such to their superiors, both through visual feeds on their helmets and through voice-comms. The squad-leader, Sergeant Vincennes, found himself waiting for confirmation from Stier or his own commanding officer as he waited, eventually growing frustrated enough to push onward into the vessel, leaving two to stand watch by the dropship, his retinue in tow.

"Anyone home?" He called out, the opaque helmet he wore set to broadcast his voice.

----

"No pardon necessary, lady Stier." Renate murmured, lightly biting her lip as she lingered on such information, doing her own mental check as she did her best to recall any sort of Global Coalition of Unified Tradesmen. There wasn't any such organization in the bowels of the Union, at least so far as she knew, though she could always be mistaken - but from the way that name carried itself, it would've come from the homeworld, and she knew there was no such mother-corp in the Interstellar Trade Union, at least not anymore. The dark-haired woman diverted her eyes from the transmission to her desk, gaze lingering on one of the few ornaments she kept there. "I am equally unfamiliar with this Coalition." But that was no cause for disappointment.

If anything it was a marvelous opportunity.

But it was one that was riddled with unknown variables - what was this Global Coalition? Where was it? What strategic assets did it have at its disposal? Could the Syndicate, or the Supremacy itself, afford to bully them into submission? These things had to be clarified before genuine action could be taken, and so Renate settled on the tried and true Imperial way - tact. This opportunity had been one that she capitalized on as soon as she could, one that neither that mutant or the upstart had bothered with, and there was no need for it to get bloody yet. The executive officer's predatory eyes darted back to the younger noble in an instant.

"Retrieve that vessel, debrief its crew, we'll decide our course of action once we have some answers. Inform me of any developments immediately, lady Stier, this line of contact."

With that, the visual feed terminated.

____

Monika had just given little sounds of agreement and nodded when needed. Then the communication line was cut off very abruptly, and she was left with the words, "Yes ma'am." directed to a blank screen.

It made her purse her lips in annoyance, but then the very stiff young woman sagged and leaned on her desk for a moment. All she wanted to do was lay her head down and rest, but there was no time for that. There was never any time for that. Not since the day the spoiled baby sister had driven Monika to the point of trying to kill her. When Izzy had just walked back into the house like nothing had happened, Monika had known there was something very wrong.

Just the thought of Isabelle made Monika straighten up and square her shoulders again. She had to prove that she was the more worthy sibling. She had to--

Had to find out the progress of the marines, first off.

Back to the bridge the skinny blonde went. "Status?" She demanded as soon as she changed direction to head towards the communications officer and the screens with the feeds from the soldiers.

"Has the crew of the Edge made contact yet?" She asked with a frown, when empty corridors met her searching gaze.

____

As if speaking of them were the way to get these foreigners to appear, one seemed to, coming from around a corner with his arms raised as if to show he wasn't armed. His skin was olive oil dark and he had sandy blonde hair, a square set jaw, and round, unassuming brown eyes. A bar-code tattoo was clearly visible on his neck, and if that wasn't a big enough tip-off, his garb was almost identical to that of the captain their superiors had spoken too.

White long-trench. Calf high, gleaming black leather boots. Sable gloves. An oddly shaped sidearm hanging from a holster on is hip. Various medals and awards dangling around the chest and shoulders. Unlike that of his own superior, the man who met the marines and medics was all business, completely serious. "Greetings, Heg-folk. Or whatever it is I should be calling you lot. My captain sent me to greet you, and give you directions if need be. I can take whoever needs to go to the bridge there, but some of the crew are in rough shape. I don't presume to command our saviors but...The sick bay is down the hall I came from, second and last door on the right."

A very slight pause, a finger being slowly lowered to his right ear. "The rest of the staff are with Commodore Accetur, awaiting orders on how best to depart, and leave our ship in your hands."

____

Vincennes wasn't long for answering Monika for the figure to suddenly appear, drawing his eyes and dashing his voice for a moment as several of his contingent raised their weapons in reflex, training them on the new contact before the sergeant raised a hand, signalling for them to cease. He also berated them for their aggressive response on what was a nominal rescue mission, but the heated words of that brief episode were kept locked away in the helmets of those gathered - the Syndicate marines, like nearly every combat force in the Supremacy, were covered head to toe, sealed away against threats nuclear, biological and chemical. There was no way to know if they were biological beings, even as Vincennes switched his comm-channel to broadcast through the helmet's speakers. "Confirmed. We will handle the evacuation of those incapacitated and incapable. Get anyone who can move under their own power to the dropship now."

The black-clad automaton turned his head to one of those following him, speaking over internal comms where the foreigner couldn't hear, the other soon nodding, its opaque visor turning to the foreigner briefly. A female voice crackled through her helmet's speaker. "Private Kleist and I will escort the commodore and his staff to the dropship, if you will show us the way, sir." Before she even finished Vincennes and the others moved with a purpose to the room that the man had specified, the medical team following suit, with their large rucksacks rising and falling with their booted footfalls. As they moved the sergeant replied to his commanding officer, hoping his quick pace wouldn't upset his speech.

"Yes ma'am, foreign crew has made contact - we're facilitating the evacuation of the wounded as corporal Pahlavi and private Kleist see to the command staff."

____

Monika gave a gasp when the man showed up on the screen, then she straightened up and folded her hands behind her back as if she could pretend that she hadn't been startled. She didn't comment as she listened, resisting the impulse to nod in approval to people that could not see her.

Lady Stier finally answered, "Very good. The expected supplies are standing by." She had to take a split second to check the name of the man in charge, since she couldn't recognize every voice in her command, "Carry on, Sergeant Vincennes. I have every confidence in you."

She assumed that the communication channels would remain open, just in case things got unpleasant, but she hadn't yet gotten a chance to review first contact procedures. That would be the next order of business for the noblewoman, between keeping an eye and ear on the military folk that actually knew what they were doing.

____

The officer, in truth the First Officer, would give a very short, slight bow before standing up straight. Apparently he'd been slouching before. "I'll relay your orders to the Commodore." He'd pause before doing so, tsk-ing before returning his attention to the seemingly inorganic soldiers before him. "Mmm. Yes. The Captain says he'll be sending the majority of the crew this way."

"And...that he'll be expecting comfortable accommodations for all his men and women. He wants to make sure and...forgive me if I seem obstinate, I am merely replicating my commanding officer's tone, but he wants to make sure that its apparent that we're coming along as equals. Not as captives." It was clear by the look on his face that this man was not pleased at being used as a jackassery transmitter for Torvald.

____

Vincennes simply nodded to this foreigner, continuing on his way soon enough, leaving him there with the Soruk and Austran marines, who had yet to sling their weapons. The corporal, Pahlavi, glanced down the hallway before looking back at the XO. "To my knowledge you're not prisoners, there's no reason for you to be, but it's not our call." It was far above any of the marines' judgement whether or not these people were a threat and should be treated as such. Monika held that authority, in part, and the decision would lay with her when the time came. "Now, let's see to the evacuation of the commodore and your staff."

---

The men and women that had moved to the sickbay were seeing to those incapable of leaving on their own, the medics assembling stretchers and carrying out the worst cases. The Sanis were jogging with their charges in hand, ferrying the stretchers back and forth between medbay and the dropship, no doubt passing the XO and the two marines at least once as they did.

____

Monika made no comment, not wanting to make a promise that she might have to retract later. Not even an implied promise. Surely they wouldn't expect her to give such an assurance without knowing the whole story, after all.

Lady Stier was busy reviewing protocol anyway, scrambling mentally to catch up as she listened in. So far it seemed like things were going smoothly anyway. She was trying not to make any distracting sounds, just in case somehow it would be transmitted. Usually she would mutter some phrases out loud when she was trying to learn something, so not having that aid was somewhat disconcerting.

____

The rest of the evacuation went without much incident. The GCUT personnel would disembark without any further struggles, and even their captain personally thanked each member of the rescue staff on his way out, making sure he was the last one off the shuttle, save for a marine or two. It was strange, really. According to their charts, they'd come a very very long way, and the first species they encounter are so eerily similar, even if they appeared taller and broader on average. Humanoid had been a slight hope for the first species they'd encounter, but never something like this, and Torvald couldn't help but count his lucky coins in his head.

As of now, the Edge and it's crew were in the hands of the Syndicate, and could only wait to see what Fate would deliver them.

____

The short, escorted ride back to the gargantuan battleship was conducted mostly in silence from the Syndicate personnel on board the dropship, the medical personnel already planning out their routes well in advance in their minds, knowing which corners to turn and which trams to take to arrive at the nearest sickbay, only breaking their silence by contacting ship security in order to clear their path. The battleship itself, known to nearly everyone save her captain as the Resolute, still possessed the gothic arches and angles so common throughout the entire Supremacy, though the former sigils of whatever house possessed this ship had long been replaced with the sun-wheel of the Syndicate, all of which the GCUT personnel found themselves privy to once the ship docked and they made their way from the hangar.

The medics made quick work of getting their charges where they needed to be, racing past the rest of the personnel as Torvald and the rest were taken to a small station not far from the tram lines. As the wounded and injured members of Torvald's crew were whisked away, the commodore and his retinue were passed through a scanner, the nearly scientific examination unexplained as the Syndicate personnel made sure that there was no particularly virile contagion these foreigners carried. Pending that they were safe enough, Sergeant Vincennes shed his helmet, revealing an Azrican with a remarkably square-cut jaw, hard face and steel-gray eyes, presided over by a short-cut sheen of shaved hair that might have just as easily been blonde as brown. "This way, Commodore." He gestured for Torvald to follow, "Bring whoever you feel is relevant."

They were lead to another of the dozens of tramlines on this ship, the infrastructure necessary considering its length and girth, the GCUT personnel escorted by Vincennes and two other marines - who both still wore their helmets and held their weapons ready, even if Vincennes did not. "Welcome aboard the SNV Resolute." He murmured in a sideways manner, almost as an addendum, as he punched in their destination, carrying them to the bridge as swiftly as the ship's systems would allow.

Of course, they wouldn't be on the bridge proper, but rather in a conference room not far from it - a place again dominated by the Syndicate heraldry, on the walls, the tables, and even the seats - where the sergeant bid them to take a seat. "The captain will be with you shortly, sir. Is there anything we can get for you, in the meantime?"

____

For her part, Monika Stier had combated her fears of inadequacy by arming herself with as much knowledge as she could get a hold of in such a short amount of time. Someone else had probably been looking and listening at the feed from the marines, learning what they could about the foreigners by such observation. Later, the recordings would likely be more or less dissected by those with the training to pick apart xeno details and learn what could be learned.

The noblewoman very much felt the press of time though, and hated that her hand was being forced before those experts could make their reports. None of this discomfort showed on her face, the cold expression was the same one she always wore as she walked into the conference room, just long enough after their arrival to give their guests a moment to catch their breath. She was depending on the marines to keep her safe, so they would not be dismissed even if Torvald only kept a small number of people with him.

Monika did crank a smile onto her angular face for the occasion as she took her place, in the chair at the head of the table unless someone else had already taken it. Her shoulders did relax just a touch when she realized that the GCUT folk were incredibly thin. It was hard to feel threatened when they were so clearly outclassed by her and her people.

The sharp young woman could even find it in her power to be gracious, at least for the moment. "Hello again, Commodore. Now that we are not in such a hurry, perhaps you would like to introduce your staff? I believe simple refreshments should already be on the way, but if you have particular dietary requirements, I'm sure something can be arranged for you and your people."

____

Torvald would occasionally whistle in awe as he was led about. It was hard for any ear not use to his mannerisms to determine if the expressive noises were sarcastic, or if the Commodore was genuinely impressed. In truth, a good mixture. He hadn't expected their technology to seem so...close to that of the GCUT. These people seemed to have some sort of fetish for hard angles and triangles, which was fine, but it made the sheer size of their ships stand out that much more.

And so compatible. It seemed so odd that all of this would seem so...compatible. Some back home theorized that even the most alien of species would have some kind of universal hardware, something they could connect with any and all other star faring nations, at least on a technological level. Similar ports, data storage, energy sources, something.

The Commodore would wave a dismissive had at the Marine's offer of service, but let his men speak for themselves, the few he brought with him anyway. For the most part, those under Torvald would only ask for water, in whatever way they could. Two or three asked for some kind of light snack ration, giving an unfamiliar name, but communicating the concept fairly well. Once Monika arrived, however, he'd sit up straight in the lounging chair he'd found himself relaxing in, fixing the woman with a mischievous gaze.

"I believe I already introduced myself and my men. Global Coalition of Unified Tradesmen. G-CUT. If you haven't heard of us, or the Onef home world, or stars forgive, the Parameta, then I don't know what much more I could say. I'm eager for repairs to begin on the Edge, so we can review our trajectory and estimated Breach distance." A bony hand would reach up and cup a stubble-covered chin, scratching at the growing hairs nonchalantly. "Of course, the opposite is true for us as well. You introduced yourself as...what was it? The Scatteran Hegemony? Doesn't even ring the slightest of bells."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman, Krysis, and Emperor Jester

The sergeant nodded at the requests, soon dispatching one of their number to see to the needs of their guests, who returned quickly enough with the water and the closest thing the Scatterrans had to the light rations described by the foreigners. Once that was all said and done, the marines returned to their positions as silent sentinels, standing by until needed. It wasn't until a new figure stepped through the door, a heavier set man than the marines and a deal more broad than the GCUT tradesmen, clad in the black gabardine uniform of the Landwächter. It was the ship's imperial liaison, Sturmbannführer Osijek, the political officer assigned to ensure that the vessel acted in accord with the wishes of the throne.

"Captain, I came as soon as I heard," Spoke the portly Soruk, "I wouldn't have known that... ah. You were meeting these dignitaries, were it not for LEGION telling me." Though whether the laxity was on the part of the liaison or on the captain wasn't entirely clear, at least to the tradesmen, but regardless of that, LEGION had to be the one to inform the liaison of the situation, which meant that others might have been as well. Quietly enough the olive-toned man moved to take a seat opposite some of the GCUT representatives, offering them a small smile.

____

Monika nodded slowly, a greeting to Sturmbannführer Osijek, when he entered soon after she did. Since she had followed procedure, after brushing up on it, she didn't think she had any reason to worry. When LEGION decided to be involved in something, however, there was no guarantees.

Then she pulled a holosheet out of the folder she had brought with her and turned her attention back to Torvald, "Well, we'll just have to get started on that soon. It looks like all the fires are out, but we'll have to let your Edge sit for a bit to be sure. No need to risk lives or further damage by being hasty, after all."

She crossed her ankles as she perused the information before her, seeming to be unable to relax more than that. Her back stayed almost painfully straight, and did not even touch the back of her chair as she frowned at lack of information.

"We will need some schematics and such, just to know what materials your ship will need. I'd like to have your engineering people work with ours, to be sure there are no misunderstandings." Monika rambled a bit, mostly not looking at the foreign Commodore, as she took his assent for granted. She sneaked a glance at Sturmbannführer Osijek before doing her best to fill him in without being obvious about it. She wouldn't have wanted to admit ignorance, if their positions had been reversed, after all.

"You'll want to look at our maps after traveling so great a distance, Commodore Accetur. It must have been very far indeed, otherwise you would have heard of the Supremacy before, whether directly or via our rivals or allies." She gave a slightly depreciating smile, as she gestured with one pale, graceful hand as if to imply the shrug that she would not make, "We aren't exactly shy about making ourselves known."

____

Torvald took a beverage after all, and smiled broadly to those who brought it, before turning his attention back on his host, and the new guest. A small part of his couldn't help but be unnerved by the man who very much so resembled an olive, and spoke far too softly for one his size. Still, after a brief pause he hoped would come off as nonchalant, the Tradesman Commodore finally found his nerve again, and begin to address Monika in earnest.

"Schematics and men will be no problem, as we have both in relative supply. The head engineer was actually part of the development team for the Edge, so I'm sure you'll get all the information you need. And, well, something has been bothering me, you see. Right as we came to a stop, before all of our systems went on the fritz, my navigator got to show me a brief glimpse of the surrounding star clusters. You know what I saw?"

Before he continued, Torvald would take a sip of the water, swishing it around in his mouth. "Nothing. I'm one of the most highly decorated pilots and captains back on Onef, and I didn't recognize a single star. Granted, my observation was brief, and was quickly interrupted by several highly stressful situations all occurring at once, but I'm more than confident that looking at any maps will be all but useless." The way the foreign office spoke those final words brought back a lot of that bravado and confidence to his voice, like he'd won something that wasn't even a contest in the first place.

And dear Lord did that shit eating grin probably not help...

____

Osijek moved in his seat at the thought, uncertain how to take hearing that the other man didn't recognize a single star. The political officer was no astronomer by any means, indeed he didn't think he could find his way around the Core if it was up to him, but Torvald seemed to be exactly the sort of man who should. His brow furrowed, lips parted briefly as he thought of just how to voice the question that rested on his lips, but refrained from doing so. This was first contact, there would be no purpose served by insulting these foreigners, intentionally or otherwise.

"... I'm sure we could provide you with any number of star charts or maps, but, ah..." He glanced to his captain at that note, uncertain how exactly to put it. "I've never heard of an 'Onef', have you, captain?" He assumed it was a planet, judging by the way the other had mentioned it, but it might very well share its name with a system or a star.

It never occurred to the man just how far Torvald had traveled.

____

Monika had to hold her breath in order not to grin or give any unseemly display of excitement. So on the surface, she seemed to have no reaction at all, just sitting very straight as before. Her icy blue gaze was steady, fixed on Torvald's face as he spoke, though she accepted a glass of water for herself when the tray made it past her and would delay response long enough to take a sip.

She found it so much easier to control her expression than her voice that she needed a moment to calm herself. It seemed prudent not to let this alien know he had said something of incredible interest. Something that her companion apparently didn't pick up on, and she hated that she had to shake her head in response and reveal their ignorance.

Nonchalantly, she tapped a few keys on the displays available to bring up the galactic map. She left it there for just a few seconds, showing the spiraled arms of their home, before zooming in randomly in an area that there had been only minimal scans of. It might show only the stars they could detect, but the brightest bodies in the sky surely had to be known to such a pilot-trained specimen.

"Anything look familiar?" She asked then, as if bored by the notion.

____

The Commodore had been more than ready to engage the Sturmbannführer in conversation regarding stars and their ilk, as well as a conversation about the Homeworld, but suddenly celestial bodies sprang up before him on the displays. A very audible tsk of annoyance would occur whenever the camera was moved away from where he was focusing, or a sigh if the man known as Torvald though he recognized something. Anything. Only to be constantly disappointed.

However, despite any questioning, the commander of the Edge would remain silent until he'd either scanned the majority of the map provided, or until they were taken off of the display. Either way, the response would be the same. A single word, somehow beyond confident and thoroughly unshakable in its certainty.

"Nothing."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman

The Landwächter officer followed along with Monika's movement in the displays, recognizing the odd cluster, though the names listed beside some of them helped. He hadn't studied astronomy, officially or for recreation, since his introduction class back during university, but even the rubes on the frontier knew Tannhäuser and the Gate. It was only as this whole affair continued that his mind began to wander, that Osijek truly began to realize just how foreign Torvald was, if he couldn't even recognize major points in cosmic geography - not Scatter, not Tannhäuser, New Empyrea, or even Hadden. "Commodore - that is your rank, right? You don't recognize any of this?" It was entirely genuine, the Soruk not intending the slightest bit of offense, simply astonishment.

The implications for his means of getting here - was it part of his ship, or some sort of spatial anomaly?

The Sturmbannführer did his best to push such thoughts from his mind as he thought of what to say, of how to approach this situation, but he couldn't help the expression he wore, though in time he began to purse his lips as a prelude. "... you came here under your own power, didn't you?" It was all beginning to fall into place for him - the delay in informing him of the situation, the heightened security, the personal meetings. The implications this could mean for modern technology - for the Supremacy - if they could get the plans for whatever made this possible, much less that they had one of the engineers effectively in their custody, Osijek's eyes drifted to the table as realization hit him once again.

"Captain Stier," He began, looking up from the table and towards the commanding officer of the vessel, his amiable visage no longer clad in its pleasant expression, its former trappings shed, replaced with a rather severe, slightly stressed, look. "I... I need to inform Tannhäuser of this. If you will excuse me briefly, I'll-" The portly Soruk had turned in his seat, the chair pivoting as he moved away, starting to rise as his eyes moved across the tradesmen gathered and resting on the ready-room's door. The words caught in his throat, producing a pathetic, guttural sound, his mouth as ajar as the door as his eyes fixed themselves on the dark, towering figure who occupied its breadth. In but a moment he corrected his posture and snapped his heels, the jackboots producing a violent crack in the briefing room. The newcomer was unphased by this gesture save for blinking at the fat Soruk who bolted to attention, sunken eyes unimpressed as the light of the display on the far side of the room glinted off of the bullion oak leaves upon his collar.

"Oberg-gruppenführer," Osijek managed, taking but a moment to breathe. "Sieg heil!" At the Landwächter motto he offered a stiff imperial salute, one impersonally returned by his superior, who moved forward leisurely after dropping his own. The muted clicks of his heel irons proving the chorus of his approach as the map's ambient light slowly revealed a hawkish, Azrican face, whose green gaze drifted over all those gathered before returning back to the liaison, blinking once more.

"Sturmbannführer," He spoke, his voice soft and tone relaxed despite his unerring eyes that refused to leave Osijek. "You have somewhere to be?" It was the Soruk's turn to blink, this time in uncertainty, eyes darting between the newcomer and the room's door. His lips parted but he couldn't find the words, taking several moments before he could manage his response.

"N-no, herr Obergruppenführer, I am the liaison for this vessel, I should be here at this meeting-"

The other's brow arched, his lips curling ever so slightly into a frown, as if to visually ask 'is that so?' "Really?" Came the spoken question, the Azrik moving to clasp his hands behind the small of his back, "You seemed most eager a moment ago." The quiet tenor of his superior did little to ease Osijek's mood, his own quick breathing growing more pronounced, having expected almost anyone but him to be here. "Perhaps you were mistaken, Sturmbannführer. Landwächter Oberkommando doesn't need to be informed of every interstellar mishap across the empire, after a-"

"N-no, herr Obergruppenführer," Osijek spoke suddenly, interrupting him, the liaison's conscience getting the better of him in that one brief moment, though he very soon came to regret it. Again did the Azrican's eyebrows climb, almost hidden by his cap's jet-black visor, as if he were slightly surprised that the Sturmbannführer would renege so. "I... I was not."

"Oh?"

"Yes, herr Obergruppenführer."

A faint, singular nod was paid to the Soruk then, the Obergruppenführer blinking once more. "Then I would inform Tannhäuser." Again did Osijek find himself at a loss for words, several moments slipping by before he realized that he'd been given his leave, and after a moment or two more of stunned silence did he eagerly partake of it. Another stiff, practiced salute, answered in the same dismissive fashion as before, and a second snap of his heels prefaced the Soruk's departure. The Azrican's eyes followed the heavyset figure as he saw himself out, lingering on the door as it closed before they turned back to the head of the table to rest on Monika.

"I believe an introduction is in order." He mused, turning to move once again, his relaxed pace carrying him behind the tradesmen and their Commodore, up the table, eventually to the lady Stier herself. Quietly he circled behind her before coming to rest at the seat on the noblewoman's opposite flank. "My name is Weldon Maddox, lady Stier," In no great hurry, the Landwächt pulled the chair out, a spare hand given to mind his coat tails as he moved to take his seat. "Perhaps you would be kind enough to explain why my colleague was so very keen on contacting the capital?" Despite having sat down the man didn't seem to relax, his posture remaining much the same, the chair's back seeming as much an obstacle for his form as support.

With measured movements he reached into one of his tunic's lower pockets, gaze shifting momentarily to Torvald, Maddox having deduced that he was the tradesmen's leader, both from earlier conversation as well as his trappings. "Or, perhaps, I might ask the reason for concern himself." A flash of silver was soon held aloft in his right hand, drawn from his pocket. Gently, Weldon's thumb played across the case's design, the light catching the etched seal of the Verhör upon its face as he tilted it slightly. Not wishing to be rude, he looked back to Monika, fangs evident as he inquired as to his vice.

"Do you mind if I smoke, captain?"

 

[Tiko]

as written by Krysis, Ottoman, and Emperor Jester

Monika had been more involved in showing Torvald how to use the zooming and scanning controls at first, so he could navigate the map on his own and she could watch his expressions more closely. So her polite gestures were distracted at best, and might have been entirely forgotten as she was concentrating so hard on making sure that the foreign leader wasn't deliberately avoiding any particular region of the map, or hiding a hint of recognition.

So when the Commodore gave the negative, she actually smiled. It was an expression quickly hidden though, since she was aware that she looked even more cruel when delighted than she did with her usual imperious expression. Her tone was unintentionally gleeful as she explained, "Commodore Torvald Accetur of the Global Coalition of Unified Tradesmen, respected as a pilot and captain among his space-faring people, does not recognize a single grouping of stars in our entire galaxy. Which means he came from a different galaxy, at the very least."

Monika smiled briefly again, extending a gracious hand towards the gentleman in question as she spoke to Maddox, "He needs our help to repair his ship and get his people back home, so we are going to need to know how he got here in the first place. The Syndicate will be providing materials and personnel to help our visitor. Naturally, our engineers will need to know how it works, in order to assist effectively."

Then she turned towards Torvald, "Since your affiliation is with a 'trade' union, I assume you know the principles of supply and demand. Letting us have a look at your engines seems pretty fair, considering all you are getting in return, wouldn't you agree? Especially since they must have malfunctioned to land you on our doorstep."

Monika Stier took a sip of water then, to calm herself before responding to Weldon Maddox's request, "I think I might be needing a cigarette myself, herr Obergruppenführer, if you wouldn't mind lighting one for me as well."

____

At Monika's explanation Maddox simply nodded, looking from her to Torvald whenever the subject of the latter's ship came up, silent save for the occasional 'Hm' that he'd offer when appropriate. A ship from another galaxy? Extragalactic visitors were something that the Supremacy had dealt with before, though they were hardly as polite as Torvald was now, and the thought of someone - anyone - being able to come here from another galaxy was one that caught the Inquisitor's attention. Though he had only briefly reviewed the incident reports before arriving, skimming them at best, from what he recalled this craft simply appeared in the immediate solar vicinity of Neu-Lumen, without any Jovian bodies for lightyears around. This assumed contradiction would prove a conundrum to those tasked to analyze it, but the lady Stier's words presented a curious alternative.

Were there other powers capable of intergalactic travel besides the Collective?

"Gladly, captain." He murmured, popping the case open in a moment and offering it to Monika, only withdrawing once she'd taken her pick from the cigarettes within to offer it, in turn, to Torvald. "Commodore Accetur," The Azrik began, lingering on the other's name, his green eyes fixed on the foreigner as he let the odd surname slip off of his tongue, "Of the Global Coalition of Unified Tradesmen." An even more curious name that possessed a word that, even if unrelated, still fanned the flames of hatred in the hearts of many Imperials. Several times had Maddox helped root out democratic cells, doing his part to cut out one of the cancers that plagued the Hegemony, and more than once had that term cropped up in their rhetoric.

Maddox slipped his own cigarette from the case once Torvald had seen to his, though the Landwächt leaned to light the noblewoman's first, as was proper. The case closed with a sharp snap, Maddox taking his cigarette and tapping its face against the case in thought, looking down at the thing and the insignia upon it. "You're being quite fair to Commodore Accetur, lady Stier." He mused, soon pinching his vice between his lips and lighting it in turn, the orange glow of the rock highlighting pale features in contrast with a dark uniform. It wasn't the way of the Stiers or the Syndicate to act in such a capacity, at least in his experience - of course the man knew there were caveats, as there were caveats to ever part of imperial society: if you couldn't find one you were guaranteed a job, even if it was as a case-worker in a munitions factory, if you couldn't pay your taxes you were given an exemption, even if it meant military service, if you couldn't put food on the table you were guaranteed rations, even if it was processed from deceased citizens.

No browbeating, no brutish displays of power - aside from meeting this minuscule vessel in a ship of the line - it made Maddox wonder why the Syndicate was being so hesitant, so subtle, and at that thought his eyes darted back to the captain. Monika Elizabeth Stier - truly the finest of the lot when it came to the Margrave's standards, as much a Stier as any could hope to be, but even as talented as she was, she was only a captain in the grand machine of the Syndicate. There had to be someone else at the helm of this endeavor, and knowing the grand machine of the Syndicate it could be any number of the corporate elite. The Inquisitor made a note to speak to the captain at some other time concerning this, away from their guests.

"If you will excuse my saying so, captain, the throne is far more interested in his vessel's jump drive." At that he stood the lighter on the table, sliding it over to the foreigner across from him. "But I would very much like to know where home is before we send you on your way, commodore."

____

After taking the offered smoke from the second new arrival, as well as the time it would take to both light it and take a few sampling drags from the burning leaf, Torvald would address Monika first, but not before offering a nod of his head and a politely crisp "Thank you, sir." to the good man who had offered the relief to him.

"To be very fair, and quite frank, saying that our engines malfunctioned is a bit of an insult. The engine is fine, for the most part. Its the rest of the ship that couldn't keep up with the strain. I have a feeling you're right though. About the galaxy jumping. If so, then the tech boys really out did themselves this time." A very slow puff of smoke would ooze from the Tradesman's nostrils, as the foreign officer seemed to be rather enjoying the complimentary relaxant. It had been months since his last smoke of any nature, or at least it had felt like it.

"An insult I am willing to overlook. GCUT goods tend to last until destroyed these days, and its hardly fair of me to expect you to know our excellent reputation."

Then, a somewhat curious gaze at his other host, Maddox. Something about the man seemed very off to Torvald. Something in his gut was telling him so, though he couldn't even begin to place where this feeling had come from, or why. Something about the presence of the individual put the commodore far more on edge than any of the other previous Hegemony folks he'd run into so far. "As for home, well, I imagine it would be back the way we came. Once the ship is all fixed up, I'll have my boys crack open the ship's nav-charts. See where we jumped around, what stars we passed, planets, you know how it goes I'm sure."

A deliciously heavy mouthful of smoke entered his lungs, and Torvald would feel himself lean back into his chair, his posture almost melting from one of relaxed formality, to simply that of a sloppy couch potato. He'd crack a grin, an even bigger one than before, and something in the man's eyes seemed to be sparkling with a sudden bright idea. "Well, good Obergruppenführer," He'd begin, surprising even himself at how well (but not great) he'd managed to pull off his first pronunciation of the word,

"If you're interested in the jump drive, how about you buy it?"

____

Monika laughed outright at the two males, the throaty sound unexpected from that stern and cold person. The sensuous delight of the cigarette, plus the triumph that neither of them seemed to have seen yet, combined to put her in a very good mood.

"Come now, gentlemen, no need to squabble. First off, good relations with this GCUT organization will be useful for all parties concerned. Especially since they are far enough off that there will be no diplomatic disputes in the foreseeable future unless we cause them here and now." Captain Stier actually let her shoulders rest against the back of her chair at that point as she smiled lazily at Maddox with that gentle warning not to stir things up.

"Secondly, it would be irresponsible for the Syndicate to let our guests depart without reasonable assurances of their safety. So we will have to thoroughly examine this jump drive ourselves, to make sure the Platinum Edge won't be launched into a supernova or some such nonsense." She pointed out almost lazily, punctuating her statement with a stab of the glowing tip of the cigarette.

"That means we will have to build at least a prototype of our own, to test the concept. Which is good for you, Torvald, since if the throne 'bought' your's, how would you get home? Your crew would not thank you for stranding them here, in the Supremacy. I'm sure they have families to get back to, even if individuals might be happy here." A pause then to breathe the invigorating smoke deep into her lungs and only reluctantly let it escape with the need for another breath.

"All things considered, this is a very good deal for all of us. Without our resources and help, both of which we will be forced to give a great deal of, Commodore Accetur and his people would be trapped. So he is lucky that he has something we want and can be given without impacting the survival of himself and his crew." Monika had no problem being subtle, while others might have mistaken it for weakness. She was starting to feel like she would have to be more blunt in this case to make the males realize that the Syndicate was holding all the right cards in this particular hand. A sensible man would fold rather than keep trying to raise the stakes.

Besides, it wouldn't really matter shortly. Sooner or later, the Edge would have to be hooked up to a LEGION network node (though a closed one in case the foreign computer had some sort of virus on it), in order to make sure the ship was working correctly. That would be the perfect opportunity to copy every scrape of information on their hard drive, or whatever sort of computation devices they used. In short, the GCUT vessel was about to be raped, and there was no point in striving for consent from the nominal owner.

____

The noblewoman's chuckling was certainly unexpected, though Maddox was unphased by the sudden sound breaking the relative silence, the Azrican glancing over to the lady Stier as she deigned to explain herself. His own cigarette rested between his fingers, the hand holding it resting on the table as he remained ramrod-straight in his seat, letting the Austran woman finish before lifting the smoldering vice to his lips. The smoke itself was held prisoner inside of that steely citadel as he chose his words carefully, since it seemed that her ladyship had not as the irony of her opening statement was not lost on the man, only speaking once a jet of smoke poured from his nose in a half-sigh.

"My apologies," Weldon murmured, eyes still fixed on Monika as he spoke, "I didn't realize I was intruding so." A momentary glance to Torvald came with another mental assessment of these 'tradesmen', born out of concern for what the lady Stier was planning. They seemed capable enough, roughly equivalent, physically, to Scatterrans themselves, though what little they could learn from these few specimens was haphazard at best - any and all information of the Global Coalition itself, their homeland, was unreliable without any objective evidence to back it up. In all honesty, neither Monika or Maddox, the Syndicate or the Supremacy itself, had any idea just what these people had at their disposal.

And that, precisely, was the reason for his caution.

"Please," Eyes moving back to the captain at the head of the table, blinking only once, "Don't let me stand in the way of business, captain."

____

Torvald's eyes would slowly narrow, and he find himself reaching for the side arm he knew would be no where to be found. He and his men had rescued, and as such, had given up their arms freely. Still, the rage was there, and the Commodore found himself picturing a very lovely scene:

Himself, straddling Monika's chest, her arms pinned beneath his knees, arm around her throat, pulling a bullet between those pretty eyes as the light was just about to go off for good. Maybe then the laughing would stop.

But he couldn't very much do that, so instead he ran a hand through his dark chocolate hair, unhappy to find that his buzz from the off-worlder's cigarette very much destroyed. It was such a shame. He'd have to ask what herb he'd been inhaling seconds before, if he even got the chance. With as much venom as he could muster, Torvald would only muster the barest of replies.

"Yeah...I probably should be thankful I'm not being shot in the dick, considering how utterly cooperative I've been."

____

"I wouldn't dream of shooting you, Commodore. That would be uncivilized. However, the security detail might, if you don't show them your hands right quick." Monika answered drily, then shook her head at the foreign man. When he reached for his missing sidearm, the marines around the room had tensed up, thinking Torvald might have some weapon that was missed. Even if some of them might agree with wanting to slay their captain, none of them would risk their jobs to accomplish it.

"Before you resent me too much, please let me point out that most of the races we've met would have killed you immediately. They would be stripping your ship right now, instead of-- Well, you have no reason to trust me to accurately relay the horrors of the Milky Way." Monika took a moment to take another puff just then before she would consider how to continue.

"Just as I have no reason to trust that the information you have, Commodorre Torvald, is worth a single ounce of scrap metal. I'm offering you a fortune in aid and supplies in return for things of uncertain value. I am asking for nothing that I can touch or hold and say 'this is what I purchased for my people'. My colleague here is probably wondering if he should arrest me for such a gamble with the resources of the Supremacy." There she turned her big blue eyes to Weldon, a little uncertain about his presence and starting to realize that the ground she tread on was not as firm as she had thought. If they had only had a chance to discuss the matter before the meeting-- Well, being on the same page would have been nice, but it was too late to regret the situation while in the middle of it.

Looking at the inquisitor, she addressed their guest, "Commodore Accetur, if you feel like I am treating you unfairly, do you have a counter-proposal? Perhaps to Obergruppenführer Maddox, if you find me so objectionable?"

____

Torvald's eyes would go wide, huge, straining against their sockets, and a vein on the left side of his forehead would pop up to say hello out of barely kept in rage. His hand would slowly leave the comfort of his jacket's interior pocket, sadly empty minus the glove that had adorned it when it had first gone in, still attached of course. However, said glove would come off and land carefree into the Commodore's lap, fingers moving to his mouth so he could furious chew on his fingernails, both to help him concentrate on any sort of plan, and to help prevent himself from being executed when, not if, when the foreign officer said what he really wanted to say.

____

The Inquisitor took a few moments to look between the captain and the commodore, easily observing the latter's rage as he either deliberated on his words or their consequences. Silently the Landwächt moved to take another draw off his cigarette while he made his observations, only moving to suggest a course of action when Accetur took a bit too long to speak up. "Perhaps we should table the discussion for now and see to a recess." A lengthy sigh and twin jets of smoke pouring from Maddox's nostrils announced his feelings on the matter at hand, primarily in regards to the haughty captain beside him.

"I think all parties involved need time to think this over. We are talking about a very pressing matter, after all." Torvald's responsibility and his ticket home, and the Supremacy's key to any galaxy unfortunate enough to be near the Milky Way. "What say you, Commodore? Captain?"

____

"A break sounds most welcome." Monika agreed as she stood up, placing the butt of the cigarette she had been smoking into the ashtray that had been provided soon after the cylinders had been lit. She brushed her hands then over her grey uniform, plain and stark on her terribly thin frame, to make sure no ashes clung to the cloth.

She lifted her chin and gave a calm look to the gentlemen, "Shall we reconvene in four hours? Or would you prefer to speak over dinner? You are both welcome at my table, as guests and as officers."

Her calm look became colder for a moment as she considered that she would have to instruct the galley to actually cook something appropriate for the visiting dignitaries. There would have to be a bit of a presentation for them, instead of the solitary tray of vegetables that she usually indulged in, alone in her rooms. It was just one more thing she needed to remember in the parade of responsibilities that was, no doubt, waiting for her just outside of the meeting room.

____

The Alfar beside her nodded, agreeing with the course of action as he still nursed his own cigarette, taking the time for one last, lengthy drag. "I see no reason not to. Commodore?" The inquisitor looked over to the Tradesman, giving the man a chance to voice his opinion before the decision was made. Such a recess would give all involved parties a chance to relax and familiarize themselves with their objectives, at the very least.

A chance that Maddox felt quite necessary.

____

It would be a very long time before Torvald would respond, if it could even be called that. He'd taken his eyes off of both of them, seemingly staring into an empty, endless space. The cigarette from earlier had found its way back into his mouth, and the Commodore puffed on the 'stick with a contemptuous loathing. A mistake. A galactic mistake forced on him by random chance and fate. Unless things changed, the GN would have his head on a platter for losing the Edge so carelessly. For now though, he was helpless before these brutish negotiators.

"What does it matter what I want? Do whatever you wish. I'll be grateful to get away from her for any amount of time."

____

Captain Monika Stier kept her cool as she dealt with the various things that needed her attention, that cropped up during the unexpectedly lengthy meeting with the first contact race. On the surface, she managed to seem the same as her people were accustomed to seeing. Cold, stern, and demanding.

Really, she could barely stand it. All she was thinking about was a chance to get on her own.

Her quarters on the ship were austere in some respects, only a few personal touches. The furniture she had brought with her was hard and angled, not meant for comfort. Two things she had changed from the way it had been set up in the first place. First, the lighting: a spotlight on the very formal painting of the Kampfs was the main source of illumination, followed by the less focused lights around the vanity. Second, the vanity was covered with all sorts of products for the beautification of women and crowned with a low magnification mirror designed to show every flaw.

It was to this refuge that the tall blonde made her way through the forest of needed signatures and decisions, and there where she placed a request to be left alone for an hour. The door was barely shut and locked before she berated someone in a low voice, not meant to carry beyond the walls. "Stupid, useless cow."

The heels got yanked off as she strode to her mirror and stared at her own face for a few seconds. Then she pointed behind her at the brilliantly lit up portrait, "They are disappointed in you! They see how you've failed again! You'll never be worthy, no matter what you do!"

Her voice rose a bit as she warmed up to the anger that burned in her throat. "You're not good enough, and never will be. They deserve perfection! They--" Monika turned a bit then to face the image of the Kampfs, tears streaking down her cheeks, which were blotchy and red from the depth of her emotion. At least until she caught a glimpse of movement and all the color drained from her face.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman and Krysis

Monika Stier's quarters had been a lesser priority of his in the aftermath of the meeting with the Tradesmen, but Obergruppenführer Maddox had found his more pressing concerns - namely speaking with the captain - neutered thanks to her own duties. Vital as his work was, Weldon knew well the operation of a naval vessel and understood, perhaps better than anyone else on board, the severity of its current task. Taking Monika out of the chain of command, even if only to briefly speak with her, might spell disaster down the line for the vessel and its temporary charge. So, for now, they provided a small distraction.

He'd made his way here alone, the programmed qualifications in his arm granting him access to the room easily enough, idly looking through her quarters with undecided intentions. Only occasionally did he disturb the scene presented, knowing that whatever mark he left on these spartan quarters would become all too evident later thanks to the state their mistress kept them in, mind moving to any number of thoughts as he did. It was one of several advantages of his nature, he'd come to realize, the time he'd had to learn his craft and master his vocation - over the decades he'd spent in the service of the throne, whose occupants were so graciously displayed in the captain's quarters, he'd learned many tricks, large and small, to expose heresy and defeatism. Many times, all one had to do was trap them with their own mouth in an elaborate game of speechcraft, but on other occasions, with especially clever or careful individuals, one had to go further - to take matters into their own hands.

But even now the man debated on if it was worth it to turn his sights on Monika, to potentially destabilize one of the great houses of the Reichsversammlung for his own pleasure. The thought stopped the man in his tracks as his gaze lingered on himself in the bathroom's mirror, emerald eyes darting to the cheekbones he'd inherited from his mother, the Austran face that he wore despite his Azrican complexion, the same features that he shared with his sister.

It would be a fitting trade, wouldn't it? A pompous noblewoman in return for Christine.

Maddox found himself so lost in his hatred, his fists balled at his sides and eyes shut fast that he hardly noticed the door open once more, his gaze alight only after she bothered to speak the most unexpected words. The stream of self-loathing in the other room took Weldon by surprise, as much as a man like him could be, and the Alfar turned in their typical, quiet way to look back to the main quarters, watching Monika launch into herself from the shadows.

Only once she saw him did he move to acknowledge her, glancing to the twins' portrait with a pointed finger before looking back at her. "I don't mean to interrupt, captain." The Azrican murmured, his voice holding its usual, relaxed tone as he took this revelation in stride, all the more uncertain for having been witness to her thought-to-be private outburst.

____

Monika was horrified as she realized who her unexpected guest was, and covered her mouth with the hand that had been outstretched to point. Of course she was frantically reviewing what she had said, even knowing it was a bit late to do anything about it. The shoes, forgotten in the other hand, clattered to the floor as that hand went slack. After the moment of shock, she visibly drew herself up and cloaked her misstep in the haughtiness that was her best shield, even as she reached for a tissue to clean her face with.

"If I had known you were here, herr Obergruppenführer, I would have hurried. I was going to take an hour for lunch, if you care to join me." When she turned her back to him again, supposedly to slide her feet back into her shoes, there was a sniffling sound, but other than that, she seemed to be very quickly putting herself back together.

____

The Inquisitor took in every aspect of the woman he could when he caught her by surprise there, knowing from experience that this was the real woman under that guise of authority, eyes narrowing as he watched her movements and expressions. The relatively loud crash of the shoes to the floor did nothing to phase him, the Azrik Alfar glancing only to see that her hand had gone slack and that it wasn't an intentional distraction.

Only once she spoke did he break his gaze, turning instead to the Kampfs' portrait, his movement only announced by his boots' heel irons. "I would be delighted to, captain, and it's no trouble. You didn't know." That light sniffle over his shoulder caught his ear as he looked over both of the black-clad Gods of the Supremacy, the ideal that he too strove to emulate.

Self-loathing wasn't a rare thing in the realm of these Austran deities.

"This is a truly lovely painting, lady Stier."

____

She gave herself an ironic smile in the mirror, aware that she had not been meant to know of Maddox's presence in her room. Well, not until he was ready for her to know, at least. "It is my favorite. Much better than the print that was there before I moved in."

The next bit of business was to actually request an actual meal for two, instead of the piece of toast she usually had for her mid-day snack. "Do you drink, Mr. Maddox? I'm afraid that is one of my failings. I know nothing about wine, or what to order with a particular meal."

Captain Stier would be glad for the small talk though, as it gave her more time to restore her focus. Monika was almost certain that she would need every edge she could get to escape the inquisitor's notice as unscathed as possible.

____

The man simply nodded as he lingered on the painting, giving the woman some degree of privacy as she composed herself, genuinely impressed by the work that went into it, though he wasn't entirely surprised that it found itself in the quarters of nobility. What did surprise the man was that Monika insisted on living in such a stark, spartan space - it didn't illustrate her wealth or position, even simply as captain of the vessel, aside from this painting and the grand vanity that found itself opposite of the portrait.

It warranted thought.

"I do, but don't fret over a bottle of wine, captain. Water will do just fine." It was only lunch, after all, and though when he was in the privacy of his own home he might enjoy a beverage at any time, here it was a bit unseemly to drink in uniform, or so he felt. "I didn't mean to disturb you so suddenly, lady Stier - I meant to have a word with you after the meeting but duty comes first."

He turned at that note to look to her, figuring that he'd given Monika enough time.

"You have my apologies for earlier."

____

The lady nodded at his reflection before moving to turn up the lights a bit at the table. "I think I owe you an apology or two as well. The participants in the dance before with that GCUT Commodore were changing so rapidly, I'm afraid I got a bit lost and got a bit rude. I wish I had gotten to discuss the points of attack beforehand."

She sighed then and rubbed the small of her back briefly before settling in one of the hard, straight backed chairs around her simple table. "There is still no telling if he is being honest or not, is there. Not until-- I don't know when that miserable excuse for a foreign representative will be validated. It is very... distressing."

____

At her own apology he simply nodded, following her over to the table and taking the seat opposite the noblewoman, a spare glance to his flank all that would indicate his discomfort in these rigid seats. Only after a moment of situating himself did he speak, the light she'd dialed up catching in the jeweled clasp of his neck order. "Indeed. Distressing is an apt word, and unless we want to use less pleasant methods, I'd say there's no way to know for certain until we have an empath in the room with him."

He'd already sent for one of course, though he imagined that if SOP was followed, the Syndicate should have already put in the request. Redundancy had its proper place though, and it was better to be safe than sorry. "If what you suspect is true, lady Stier, then the throne does not wish to risk any unnecessary unpleasantries with this 'commodore'." He leaned forward slightly at the note of the foreigner's rank, pondering to himself how a traders' coalition could effectively assemble any officer corps, the triangular medal at his collar dangling over his tie at that.

It was the Knight's Triad, the metallic mark of his own nobility - a knight, far below Monika's own family - but it was one of the higher classes of the decoration, its oak leaf clasp in-laid with diamonds and backed by two crossed broadswords. Few managed to achieve such a high degree of the coveted Triad, but if one knew just how long Maddox had worked towards it, it was no surprise.

"Hence why we play his game, for now."

____

"Mmm. If you can trust an empath and Torvald hasn't been fooled or conditioned to get around such tests. Assuming the empaths can even read these people at all, since the GCUT folk are so different from true Scatterans." Monika rubbed her forehead, deep in worried thought and making sure she was not wrinkling her brow.

"Of course, I sent for one as well, but that is part of the 'first contact' procedures. I want independant confirmation before I let too much ride on the word of a Psyker." The tall blonde gave a faint smile at Maddox then, noticing his medals but not commenting on them. She already knew he was a dangerous man, and the decorations just underlined that feeling.

Her own uniform was devoid of such marks, only the rank in the syndicate in place. Whether she just didn't wear the hardware, or she had not yet been so honored was probably something he already knew.

____

The Inquisitor nodded on both accounts, though he only chose to speak on the latter, "Of course, the readings would have to be verified, especially in this case." Psykers on the whole were still not in the good graces of the Supremacy, despite how many were in the Verhör itself, and Maddox had been raised, and trained, to distrust them. The faint smile drew a curious look from the man, his eyes following hers before he realized just what she looked at.

While some might consider him gaudy for his decorations, the Azrican considered them to be a point of pride. Many Alfar found themselves jumping between careers, easily bored thanks to their lengthy lifespans, but he had elected, thus far, to stay true to the Landwächter. It was part of his oath, after all.

He didn't return her smile, keeping his hands folded in his lap as he reviewed his words briefly before speaking, eyes moving once more to the portrait on the wall. "If you will permit my saying so, lady Stier, your passion is lost on the Syndicate."

____

"Lost? I must respectfully disagree. The Syndicate is where it is most needed, precisely because such 'passion' is more common in other paths. Besides, I am actually engineering minded. If I had not been borne a Stier, I would be in exactly this same place. Well. Maybe not a captain." She rose from her chair at a chime from her door, moving to collect the tray from the kitchen rather than let the worker into her sanctuary.

"I must admit that seeing my father in action taught me much about leadership. With some practice, I hope to be as good as he is, someday." The noblewoman placed a covered plate at each of their seats, followed by the decanters of oil and vinegar near the middle of the table and flatware rolled in linen napkins beside the dishes. She was not as smooth or practiced in such provisions as the waiter would have been, but to Monika's mind, the privacy was worth the awkwardness.

____

"I cannot fault you for pursuing your interests, the Syndicate does have the most to offer the scientifically minded." But what would her fervor get her here, besides the same, standard paycheck? It was a loss in his mind, but it was not one, as he said, he could fault her for. The man pushed the thought from his mind, shaking his head slightly as he allowed the woman to alter the course of conversation.

"Your father is quite renowned in that regard, lady Stier." Infamous was the more apt term but he was a guest, of sorts, and it wouldn't do to use inflammatory language. It was also rare to hear the word good in relation to that man in any sentence, though he attributed that more to his own upbringing than the man's nature. The Stiers were despised by a great many Azricans, whether they were Redwing loyalists or otherwise.

Once the dishes were laid out and the various instruments for the meal distributed, the Azrik doffed his peaked cap and bowed his head in prayer. "Holy father, blessed mother, praise be for this meal and those who share it, granted by your grace and mercy. Amen." The Inquisitor sighed as he finished saying grace, his eyes closed for a moment or two longer until he looked up again, laying his cap down on its crown in a nearby seat.

"You are most kind for inviting me to lunch, captain."

____

Monika sat down as he bowed his head, bowing as well. She had opened her mouth to start the prayer herself, but then Maddox took over and she gave another faint smile. He was the superior officer, so he was entitled to take the lead. It was just odd to her, since she had been in charge for so long herself.

"Amen. It is nice to dine with someone once in a while. I fear even my officers avoid my table these days, since I am always dieting." The Stier girl didn't seem to realize that she was already unhealthily thin, and that the salads soon uncovered would do nothing to remedy the scantness of her figure.

Oil and vinegar was all she would put on the leafy greens on her plate, not even a sprinkling of cheese to soften the sliced vegetables.

____

The note of dieting gave the Inquisitor some pause, not understanding why the woman would need to, but dismissed that thought soon enough as he turned his attention to his meal. Uncovering the plate after seeing to his utensils and napkin, the Azrik remained as quiet as he was before, though this was not silence chosen, but instilled. He blinked once, then twice, as he looked over his plate and what all graced it.

Though grace was something of a kind word for something so useless to him.

Was this some sort of joke? A cheap return of the favor that he had paid her earlier? Surely she wouldn't be so petty, but she was a noblewoman after all. There was no real telling what depths these people would stoop to. Only after staring at his plate for several moments did the man look back up to the captain of the vessel, his visage silently asking for an explanation.

"Captain." He began, realizing that she might not even recognize what he was after a moment of thought, "I don't know the best way to put it, but I can't eat this."

____

Monika looked up from slicing her cucumber into more manageable quarters and blinked at Maddox a couple of times herself before laying her fork and knife down. She frowned in confusion for a moment, murmuring "Allergies--?" in a questioning tone.

Then she shook her head, since it really wasn't her business, "My apologies. Would you care to order something else? I suppose I should have mentioned who was dining with me, instead of just asking for a double portion."

She applied her napkin to make sure no stray drop decorated her lip as she watched her guest uncertainly. Her expression seemed to indicate that she had intended no insult, only ignorance as to the needs of the Obergruppenführer.

____

"In a way." He replied to her initial question, soon nodding as he understood soon enough that it was entirely unintentional, and that the distinction he knew and felt as an Alf was not easily observed, especially on such a dour specimen as himself. Unless one looked at his personal records or the infrequency of his meals, they'd have little clue.

After all, the man hardly smiled, if ever.

"I shouldn't have been so curt, forgive me." He murmured, a hand coming up in apology. "I do well to eat just once a day anymore, as it is, I can wait." At that Maddox reached for the glass of water, taking a sip as he pondered just how long he might be staying on, or at least near, this vessel.

____

Monika again opened her mouth to answer the Inquisitor, but then her voice was caught in her throat as she put the details together. She slowly closed her mouth again and considered how to proceed. Honesty seemed to be the best course, so she admitted, "I did not know. You hide your state very well. I can delay a meal, since I think it would be rude to eat in front of you."

With that, she put the cover back over her salad and pulled her glass of water closer to join Maddox in enjoying the plain beverage.

____

The Inquisitor sighed at that, uncertain how he felt that his nature was regarded as a 'state', but moreso frustrated with himself at having upset the meal over a petty thought. With a nod he spoke, "Feel free to dine, lady Stier, I don't mean to be an inconvenience and it's no slight to me."

With an odd glance to the plate again, Maddox moved to change the subject. "What aspect of engineering drew you to the Syndicate, captain? I don't think I would have ever pegged you for being fascinated with such."

____

"I like the way science defines nature, applying rules to chaos. Even if a formula is too complex to be held in my mind, I can see the shape of it, and apply it to real world problems." Monika explained slowly, almost groping for the words as she stared up at the ceiling and frowned at how difficult it was to explain herself.

"It is almost elegant, how the things we can conceive in our minds can be given physical form. It is a kind of magic, if that is not too embarrassing to say. A sort of immortality that any person can grasp, if they were to just work at it." She waved one hand airily, as if sketching something with her fingertips in the air.

____

Maddox offered a very light chuckle at that thought - magic, a spell known as industry, to be precise. If there was one thing that the Syndicate was good for, it was that. "I wish more of my people would apply themselves like yours do." He murmured, speaking on the final note she made. "Far too many of us become complacent, at least for my liking." The looming aspect of death kept one motivated, pushed one forward in life - it was true for the Alfar as much as regular Scatterrans, they simply had another century or two to cushion their lives with. The ambition to succeed, to contribute, was typically, and unfortunately, more prevalent in Monika's stock than Weldon's.

Death was what gave life meaning, or so he had been taught.

"No, it's not embarrassing." He offered after taking another sip of water, "It's admirable. How much longer will they have you in the security forces before you're free to pursue your vocation?"

____

"I am supposed to be still doing the parts I so enjoy, even now. There just are not enough hours in the day." Monika admitted, then glanced at the time and gave a weary sigh.

"Speaking of hours, mine is almost up. I do hate to hurry you, herr Obergruppenführer, but if you have business with me--" Lady Stier invited reluctantly, wincing internally at what he might have to say to her.

____

"Ah, yes." He mused, nodding at that thought, refolding the napkin and freeing it from his lap as he spoke. "Regarding this ship, the Platinum Edge, and its tradesmen." The crew were the part of the ship that still eluded him personally - they matched Scatterrans in height but not in build. Most curious, especially if they came from another galaxy, as was suspected. "No matter what transpires, you are not to order anything that could threaten the integrity of that craft."

Trans-galactic travel had been something on the mind of the imperial family for some while now, and any potential breakthrough - even if it came from a foreign source - was to be considered the highest priority. "Disregard any and all orders, no matter who they come from, that contradict the imperial directive." If she knew what was good for her, being the unspoken addendum that went beyond Maddox's simple hatred for Scatterrans and issued solely from the wrath of Tannhäuser.

"If we have to buy their ship, or buy their drive, then so be it." A small price to pay for access to any number of galaxies. "And, though we haven't exactly done our best so far, we must do everything in our power to stay in their good graces until we know more about them - neither of us want to remembered for starting the Second Collective War, do we?"

____

Monika froze at that set of instructions, her gaze unfocused and staring off in a random direction as she held her breath for a moment. Then she exhaled sharply and looked at Maddox again. "That is interesting indeed. I have a selfish hope that I will not be ground up between two masters. I don't suppose there is any assurance of that?"

She nodded at the portrait of the Kampf twins, "They have my first loyalty, as ever, but I am still just a mortal and subject to all the weaknesses there of."

____

"The only assurance I can give you, lady Stier," The staff officer dipped his head at her name, his words and gaze otherwise unflinching, "Is that the Syndicate may fire you for insubordination. The throne will put you on the firing line for it." For obstructing the eventual annexation of countless star systems, the potentially limitless expansion of the imperial sphere of influence, there was no other fate.

"If your superiors see it necessary to punish you for your fealty, inform me." The Azrican made the offer rather bluntly. "They will be seen to. But, if your loyalty is where it should be then you have absolutely nothing to fear."

The Inquisitor sighed once more, resisting the urge to reach into his pocket and take out a cigarette, the vice calling to him in the wake of this rather unexpected meeting. "Am I understood, your ladyship?"

____

"As expected, though still not reassuring." The young woman answered, giving a sigh and rubbing her face once more. Then she nodded, "Understood, and I do hope I will not need to call on you, sir."

She rose then, finding it a bit awkward to be leaving her quarters with someone else still in them. Captain Stier hesitated, not knowing the proper etiquette. After all, she couldn't exactly ask the man to leave.

After a few seconds of discomfort she merely sighed and resolutely strode forth. Her's was probably the last face that Torvald wanted to see, so she would inquire of her aids to see what the aliens had been up to in the scant hour since they had parted company.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Emperor Jester

Gambling. Dice games, and the like. Their captain had even joined in on the merriment, it was reported.

It was truth. From the time he had reunited with his mates, his men and women, it had been Torvald who had broached the idea of some games to pass the time. Two of the men had brought in their dice, one set bone, the other gold. Two sets meant they make wagers on higher rolls. The Tradesman's Coalition still produced physical currency, and some even chose to still be paid in such a manner, despite most of the culture having moved on to digitized transactions. The two profession that encouraged cash payment were smugglers, and of course, mercenaries.

And what were the GCUT soldier's but militarized freelancers, after all?

The closer the Lady Stier grew to the Commodore's presence, the louder the shouts over coin and odds and wagers, money changing hands rapidly. It was no surprise, really, given their nation's near worship of coin and wealth and material possessions, inter-galactic personifications of greed and ambition and mercantile savvy. However, what might be of shock to her, is that one of the two participants to this set of rolls was a Scatteran marine. One that was clearly supposed to be on duty.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Krysis

Monika noticed the presence of one of the marines in the center of the circle, and her shoulders tightened another painful inch. She was already as tightly wound as a ninety-year-old virgin after all, and that extra hint of outrage had her muscles twitching in protest. She descended on the grouping like a slender gray and blonde storm that has not yet broke, and had opened her mouth to begin her tirade when the gasps from other marines resolved into a shout, panicked instead of professional, of "Captain on Deck!".

Narrow blue eyes cut to the announcer with only a hint of annoyance as the marines on duty scrambled into a formation instead of being scattered around and watching the game. Even the one that had been playing leaped to obey, shoving his way through the GCUT crowd if he had to in order to join those at attention.

Monika gazed at them for a moment, letting her disdain for the one that failed at his duty cover the entire squadron before she turned toward Torvald. Leaving them to sweat and remain at attention was surely not sufficient to remind the Scatterans of the price of failure, but it was a start.

Deceptively mild towards the foreign captain, the Lady Stier offered her hand to him, to help him rise from whatever chair or crouching position he had ended up in. "I hope it is understood that this is not an official stance on currency exchange. Whatever your people have won from my marines does not reflect on the Supremacy at large."

She pursed her lips at the sight of the dice, moving her head as if she would toss her long blonde hair behind her shoulder. The feeling the weight of that mass of cold gold locks shift against the cloth of her uniform must have reminded her not to show too much discomfort, as she halted the gesture abruptly. Monika's words were rather clipped as she continued, but she gave no further sign of her annoyance. "As we have done away with a physical currency, they will have to pay in goods and services. Unless you are willing to allow your people to be chipped and accept credits?"