Shattered Silence (ATTN: Aescentia!)

Selathorni Space Fleet Control Room

A bar was rising on a computer analyzing sensor information gathered from observation satellites. A soldier sees this, and turns to what appears to be a high ranking officer. "Sir, you might like to see this. This graph shows a strong regular signal coming from this space sector."

"Hmm... so it is. This is far away from any other inhabited planets that we know of and it appears that other signals have been detected as well in the general area. I will alert the Director, perhaps he will know what to make of it."

***

A moment's thought with the Director later...

To: Whoever May Be Listening
From: Director Andreus Aaron, the Syndicalist Republic of Selathorn

Hail and well met from the Selathorni Republic! We have detected signals originating from your planet and we would like to extend our hands in a show of goodwill and nonaggression. We hope that this can be a start for communication between your people and ours, and that you can reply as soon as possible.

(OOC: Can I assume this occurs after A New Direction?)

(OOC: Sure.)

(OOC: This will get interrupted by Blackest Night, if you don't mind.)

(OOC: I do actually, it would look strange...)

(OOC: Should I take into account the events that took place during our RP in the USS? i.e. destruction of Ancit?)

(OOC: Probably not, but you can if you want.)

(OOC: I shan't, I still kind of like that planet.)

Massive satellite dishes on the outermost planet of the Coronas system, Secundus, swivel suddenly as they receive the unexpected stream of data, which is compressed into encrypted packets, sent across the planet, and sent from dishes on the other side, received once again on the capital planet, Signet-A.

These packets are decompressed and presented in an easy-to-read text form in front of the President, Mira Sinclair, surrounded by the top-ranking political figures in Aescentia.

"Um, so what exactly is this?" The Servicer speaks.

"It's a transmission from a civilization that, until now, was unknown to us. The... Selathorni Republic."

"Well, what should we do?"

"Stay quiet! Who knows if they're coming here to kill us!" The Consul, always a bit paranoid, weighs in.

"No. We must respond, in the interests of peace."

The President has spoken and that ends the debate. A message is quickly drafted and sent out to the Selathorni people.

------------------------------------------
TO: Director Andreus Aaron
FROM: President Mira Sinclair, the Republic of Aescentia

Greetings to the people of the Selathorni Republic from Aescentia! We were most pleased to receive your missive, as we were unaware of your civilization, and we wish to have peace and good relations between us. Therefore, we are most willing to accept an ambassador of yours as soon as possible. A Selathorni ship, or several, are more than welcome to dock at our Local Aescentian Space Station orbiting the planet Ancit (coordinates enclosed).

With all due respect,
Mira Sinclair
President of the Republic of Aescentia

To: President Mira Sinclair, the Republic of Aescentia
From: Director Andreus Aaron, the Syndicalist Republic of Selathorn

We thank you for your generous invitation and we shall send an ambassador to your station immediately.

Cordially,


***

Within 45 or so minutes, a transport escorted by three fighters has reached the station and is asking for permission to dock.

The flowmetal that the docking portion of the LASS is constructed of promptly opens and allows the small convoy to enter, then seals behind them. The large enclosure is rapidly pressurized and oxygen is pumped in as a walkway, constructed of the same odd liquid-metal, extends to the Selathorni ships. A voice sounds over an intercom in the enclosure.

"Greetings to the emissaries from the Selathorni Republic. The enclosure is now pressurized and you are now able to exit your ships. We must request that armed guards stay in their ships. Diplomatic personnel, please follow the green lights to meet with one of our representatives."

True to the words spoken, small green lights shine up from the extended walkway and lead off to the left, through what appears to be a small blast door, which promptly opens.

A diplomat and two unarmed guards exit the ship and follow the lights. The Selathorni are still taking caution though, as they walk slowly and inspect all of their surroundings looking for any potential dangers.

The three Selathorni representatives pass through the blast door, where they are met by a short man wearing far too many military insignias and baubles. He speaks to them in a rough yet commanding voice.

"Greetings. I am Consul Jean Seurat, head of the Aescentian Armed Forces and, for right now, our only diplomat. I will lead you to your quarters planetside and answer any questions you may have about Aescentia."

Without any time for pleasantries, he ushered them into a small shuttle which disembarked from the station, heading for the surface of the planet Ancit.

"Any questions?"

The ambassador then says in a cool yet firm voice, "No, none at the moment."

"Fine then."

The shuttle lands softly at the port planetside and another shuttle pulls up, this time with wheels instead of jets. The Consul stands and ushers the delegation into the groundcar, which promptly speeds off down one of the major highways, heading towards the rapidly-cleared lodging facility where they would be staying.

"Your lodging is right ahead, you shall stay there for the night and meet our president on the morrow."

They go there without saying anything and take a look at their general surroundings.

(OOC: Sorry guys, I've been in and out of hospital of late and haven't been able to keep up, I'm going back today for the last time, so I should be able to get back into it tomorrow.)

(OOC: It's OK. You just missed a lot of zombie action.)

(OOC: Zombies? Awwwwww. I missed them... Anyway,)

Outside the hotel's windows, scenes of the industrialized ice planet Ancit are seen, however, most of the factories in the vicinity have been shut down for the diplomatic visit.

The night passes without issue and, early the next morning, the Consul arrives at the lodging and announces his presence loudly.

"Good morning, Selathornis! It's time to go meet the President!"

They shrug off the "ship lag" so to speak, dress in formal clothes (or in case of the soldiers, armor), and follow the consul.

(OOC: Sorry it took so long.)

The small delegation walks into a groundcar, which zooms off into the heart of the city, where the President had been flown in the night previous specifically to meet with them.

It arrives and the Consul ushers them out with a gruff "move along, then." The building, with a gleaming white facade, mirrors the ice all around them, and is the Planetary Governing Council's home.

"Right through here."

They follow the short man into a marble-lined hall where the President, an average-height woman with a pronounced limp in her right leg, rises to meet them. She seems (and is) infinitely more pleasant than the Consul.

"Welcome to Aescentia. My name is Mira Sinclair, the President, and it's good to meet you."

"Thank you, madam, for your people's hospitality. I've been in... much less friendly environs before. Now, I believe it would be beneficial to lay down out priorities for this meeting. I believe a NAP would be your wish as well?"

"We do indeed wish for a Non-Aggression Pact. Also, after discussion with our Minister of Commerce, we would also like to open up the possibilities for trade between Aescentia and Selathorn. Is this possible?"

"Certainly, certainly. Trade is no difficult matter, you can quite easily negotiate with the various co-operative unions who work in the orbit of Selathorn, and dock on the various starports in which goods are exchanged. We have plenty of raw materials for trade, refined goods are what we're interested in most. As for the NAP, I can have that signed now if that's what you prefer, or you can negotiate it out a bit."

"There is not a great deal of conditions necessary, so I believe we can sign the NAP right now."

An aide carrying a black briefcase rushes in and sets it on the table, looking nervous, leaving immediately. President Sinclair opens it and withdraws a single piece of paper.

"Here, the basic NAP. Need a pen?"

After the ambassador reads it over, looking for anything that they obviously can't accept, he signs the NAP, provided he finds nothing too questionable.