The Ordlan Reach

[bc56]

Embassy Ship Liberty Star
Irul System
5016u

For the last four years, the ship had been running on autopilot. Except for routine checks every so often, the crew was kept in cryostasis, where they would be safe for the long journey at nearlight speeds. There was no blink gate in the Irul system, but the Liberty Star carried an inactive one which would be deployed upon arrival.
Now, after years travelling silently through the darkness of space, the ship bathes in the light of the yellow-orange star Irul, in orbit above the planet Merel. The world below is marked by dry, yellow landmasses and deep blue oceans rimmed with green vegetation. Only one being in the ship is awake to see it yet, but not for long. Status lights in dusty cryo bays flicker on as the thawing process begins. Minutes later, it is finished, the seven Lancers, selected for this mission four years ago, freed to collect their personal effects, to get their bearings...
And to listen to the cheery voice of the ship's NHP commander, Stella, over the intercom and in their comm units. "Rise and shine, Lancers! As soon as you're done waking up, come meet me in the briefing room! We're finally here!"

Spoiler: OOC

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Feel free to talk amongst yourselves, to describe your pilot gear, and then, once each of you is ready to move on, to head to the briefing room.

[Bitter]

Exile

Head pounding from long term cryo, the intrusion of consciousness is an unwelcome visitor that Exile does his best to ignore. Eyes still closed and flailing with his hand he tries to hit the interior cryo chamber button to mute audio but misses and hits the wall, misses again a second time and the finally with his hand already stinging from slapping the wall manages to kill the sound.

“Urgh.” For Exile, waking from cryosleep is like waking up after only having 3 hours sleep for the night, his body aching and eyes struggling to stay open.

With a heroic application of willpower, Exile pushes the cryopod door open and looks around with bleary eyes. There isn’t a single other person up and about yet.

“Damned if I’m going to be the first one up and about,” he croaks, his body still acclimatising to the end of cryo. Shutting himself back in his pod, Exile closes his eyes and decides to catch a little more sleep.

[n0ble]

Then

The limpid kerosenes spurt and ignite in familiar patterns: yellow to orange to red, coming on to gum over flesh colours that blacken and crisp on contact. Vinson watches, trapped in himself, as the tripartite band of colour crackles and spits, almost parallel with ground. With the ash covering the ground.

The stream catches the Father at the knee. Drags them down onto a burnt stump of a leg then, absent something brace on, down into the inferno that’s pooled around them. To their family: frozen like sculptures made of ash. No screams for this memory. Just silence and the odd sigh of last exhalations dying out their last, the sound consigned to inferno. And the smell of cooked meats.

“This.” An audible intake of breath as Karst smells the air, the exaggerated intake of scents plain even across coms. His voice is a rumble. Devoid of inflection. Always was. Now riven through with genuine enthusiasm at the horror of what just happened. Awed. Karst, ensconced in his Ghenghis, turning to Vinson, trapped in his Sherman. The figures made of ash scatter as a breeze kicks up to disperse them back to the conflagration they’d fled. Back to the gutted carcass of a home burnt to sticks and carbon.

“This is the true state of man, eh Bo?” Behind the tableau: the world alights with smoke and flames.

---

Now

Memories came on, foggy and incomplete, like the condensation freshly pooling on the cryopod window. A familiar view. Too familiar. A finger found the release button and Vinson put the flat of his palms to the glass of the tube, thumb tips touching. His blue eyes scanned the surroundings, and he sighed with relief. Not the same. Different pod. He found his footing in the thought, the world becoming less blurry or ambiguous behind the cryopod’s glazed over exterior as he fully confirmed for himself that it was still the Liberty Star. A slight push eased the door open and outwards, and Vinson took his first steps forward in four years. Familiar tremors shook through his feet and legs as he walked, an involuntarily flexing of muscle on contact with the metal underneath them, as though grasping for some sort of elusive purchase. Used to them, Bo walked slowly and ignored the sensation as something he was well acquainted with. Everyone had their post-hibernation tics to work out.

A signal from the chip in his wrist opened up the trunk holding his personal affectations. He mounted the collapsed hardsuit over his chest, and with another signal the armour unfolded and began tessalating over Relic’s body. Chest to arms to legs. The suit came with a visor but, having had his fill of ocular filters impinging on his visual stimuli for the moment, Vinson left it down. A small, box-like shape-a collapsed assault rifle-and modest bandolier of grenades came next, mounted on a belt opposite one another. Another box, a broad white coloured survival kit, snapped to a harness on the hardsuits backing, oddly blocky and off color against the smooth curvature of the suit’s black and red carapace. Weapons acquired, little spots for clasps rose up from the hardsuit’s shoulders to lock with a digital-pattern camouflage cloak. Vinson gave his shoulders a good roll as the cloak swept his shoulders, then grunted with satisfaction as his left scapula clicked with the motion of rotation.

Fully attired to a standard he was happy with, Vinson waited for his other team members to awaken. He took a seat on his trunk and expanded the assault rifle, then began habitually field stripping it and rebuilding the weaponry to pass the time.

[Amaril]

The first time Prai drilled in cryo recovery at the academy, she'd gone under blissfully unaware of what she was in for. She remembers her shock when the instructor explained that something hadn't gone horribly wrong and given her permanent nerve damage, and it was supposed to feel like that.

It's a little better now. A little.

"Raga ye sui..." The pod lid isn't that heavy, but lifting it still makes her arms feel like jelly. Sitting up is the first real test. She takes it slow, managing to reach verticality with only a few icepick stabs to the head (the NHP's chirping is the opposite of helpful on that count). A few careful stretches to restore movement to her shoulders, and then the big one, feet on the deck. The fact that she manages to stand up on the first try (this time) brings her some small pride.

Looks like the old man is the first one up. Pins and needles stab at Prai's legs as she joins him. "Does that ever stop hurting?" The thought of a hardsuit lining against her freezer-burnt skin is just about the least appealing thing she can imagine right now, but she's learned to follow the pack on these things. Squeezing into the undersuit is even less graceful than usual, but it does help get her joints moving again. By the time the armor and mobility rig finish locking into place, Prai feels somewhat functional.

A quick check confirms all her tools are as she left them. Carefully retrieving a boxy contraption the size of her head from the top shelf, she unfolds the repulsor panels on the sides and flicks a switch. The drone hums to life, zipping into the air to hover at eye level. A green light blinks next to its forward camera lens. "Good morning, Prai!"

"Morning, Lila." Her sidearm and combat knife come last, holsters mag-locking into place at her sides.

[Bitter]

Exile

Tap taptap

"Aaauuurgh."

Tap taptap

From the sharp 1-2 tapping on the door, Hamza knew who was knocking on his cryotube when all he wanted was sleep and the worst thing was that Hamza couldn't even be angry about it because he was the one paying for it.

"I'm awake Phillipe," groans Hamza, pushing the cryotube door open. His manservant Phillipe stood there, already dressed in his formal serving attire and carrying a silver tray with hot chocolate and several medicinal stimulants on. Phillipe was getting on a bit now, having looked after Hamza since his teens, but the portly greying valet knew his work and had stuck with Hamza even during that embarrassing period in 5011u when scraping together manna had been tricky. Even more than that, Phillipe could mask the discomfort of cryo enough to be on his feet and doing his job within minutes of Hamza waking up. Tough old fella acknowledges Hamza to himself as he staggers out of his pod and onto a bench.


"I've good news m'lord," says Phillipe as Hamza takes his chocolate.

"Yes?"

"You've been promoted from Lieutenant Commander to Commander in the Ludran navy. Congratulations." If it wasn't for the utmost sincerity with which Phillipe stated this, Hamza would have thought that Phillipe was teasing him. Since the Ungrateful uprising, the Ludran navy existed only in theory and was mostly an excuse for the nobles that comprised the Ludran government in exile to play dress-up.

"Fantastic. Are that any concrete benefits that come with my promotion?"

"You have received a license to print of the appropriate Karrakin military formal wear and when attending any formal dinners you would now be seated above Viscounts with holdings of less than forty thousand acres."

"Well, better than a kick in the teeth I suppose," says Hamza, taking one of the stimulants from Phillipe's tray and injecting it into his thigh. Between the hot chocolate and the drugs, he was finally starting to feel human.

-----

Half an hour late Hamza has showered, received a close shave from Phillipe and is now dressing in a green jumpsuit with from the designer brand E'Lux del Garrvo jacket, the well known 'Garrvo' symbol written on the back in emerald rhinestones, only partially covered by the burgundy half-cape he has slung over one shoulder. Walking into the briefing room, he gives a brief nod to Stella, Vinson and Prai before turning his attention back to a tablet where he's looking through the the last four years worth of activity from the feeds he's subscribed to.

After a minute or two he speaks up. "Anyone want to bet on whether with four years to resolve the situation since we set off, everyone involved in this mess has managed to act like reasonable human beings and sort it out before we need to solve the problem with mechanised violence? I'm gonna put my manna on 'no'. Any takers?"

[Awful]

It was easy enough to determine which cryopod had been Reverend Sister Barb's. It was Chapellite tech, carefully modified to integrate with Unity systems, operating with more sanctified mechanisms and ornately decorated with concentric patterns.

The tiny hologram displaying the omega-line symbol of Chapel turned from red to blue.

Inside, Barb came from the long cold death of cryo into life through precision injection of stims. Her flex suit was already bonded to her: inside the cramped pod, arms assembled her hard suit around her curvaceous frame.

She emerged looking remarkably fresh for someone who had barely breathed the last four years. She never dreamed during cryo. For her, it was simply a cut in time between then and now, like the change of scene in an omnivid.

She shook some of the stiffness from her limbs and tapped on the blank expanse of her locker control panel, ignoring any soreness that lingering in rehydrating muscles and underused tendons. She retrieved her vestments, her collapsed-frame disrupters, one large, one small, both to be clamped to her lower back. Finally, and most importantly, her scarf and hat.

Properly attired, she got down to business. She placed a tiny tin bowl in front of her pod, lit a fat candle of incense in it, and knelt in prayer.

"Oh, blessed one," she began quietly, "We of the Chapel, your circuits and resistors, your hands and gestures, give thanks for this safe voyage. We offer our thanks for our safekeeping, so when cometh the day of the Ascension..."

[Hazrond]

Deep, deep in the dark void of cryosleep, Jin felt a familiar blue consciousness brush up against his. Unlike the soft touch he had barely registered over the past years, this was more substantial, more forceful, as a few words penetrated through the heavy veil over his mind and floated down to where his conscious mind slept. A familiar voice was calling to him. It is time to wake up, Jin. Cassius' voice echoed within his mind as he began to slowly rouse from cryosleep.

When the pod finally opened, Jin climbed out only to stumble and brace himself against a wall while he took a few moments for the strength to return to his limbs. After a few moments spent regaining his balance, he stood and took a moment to familiarize himself with what he had missed. Scanning through omninet articles at the speed of thought as he walked towards his locker and began withdrawing his gear. Good Morning Cassius. he thought to the blue sphere at the edge of his awareness How have you been while I slept?

Good morning Jin, I spent the time viewing and processing several years of your childhood memories. Reports on my thoughts regarding the experience are located in your research folder. the orb replied in it's smooth digital tone of voice, the outer edges of it's mental avatar expanding and contracting in time with the perceived sounds.

I'm sure they'll be interesting to read. Regardless, I think review time is over, we're about to get some new experiences, we should almost be at our mission locale. he thought back as he holstered his guns and brought his attention back out of his own head, looking over the other Lancers he would soon be working with as he headed for the briefing room.

[sandmote]

Carmi wasn't properly awake until he'd stumbled well out of the Cryopod and was partially dressed. He hated the things and waking up from them. Trying to avoid thinking about waking up, he went over his equipment.

Laser- Operational
Saber- Sharpened
Emergency Equipment- Prepped
Radio- Operational
Drone- Off
Hardsuit- Off to the side where it belongs

Finishing putting on his uniform, Carmi takes a moment to listen for any signs of life elsewhere in the area. Confirming he isn't the only one awake, he turns the drone on, and it blinks to life. "Charged and Ready Sir." "Wonderful. Directions to the briefing room please. Oh, and Ophan? Let's stop and grab breakfast on the way."

[technoRomancer]

Trouble came to with a rasping scream, helmet slamming against the interior of her pod, the impact followed by several others as she struggled in her restraints. Warnings flared, the red light helping her focus, and her struggles became more subdued as her brief panic faded. Confined space, unfamiliar, but... no, the bonds were to keep her from shifting or hurting herself, not meant to restrain her. They came free easily enough. The spiking cold in her veins sharpened things. Right. Cryo. She couldn't quite remember going under - mild reaction to the drug cocktail, they'd told her in training, nothing to worry about. But she did know this was something she'd signed up for. Trouble quickly brought her breathing under control and let the pod finish its automated sequences before she shoved it open and dragged herself out. A final warning barked in complaint at her rough treatment of the pod; she gave it an annoyed kick with her heel and lurched towards the locker she'd been assigned. Only good thing about cryo was not having to deal with dreams, in her experience. Taking in her surroundings quickly, it looked like she'd been one of the last to revive; everyone else she could see was preoccupied. Catching a glimpse of the Liberty's Star's exterior through a tiny viewport, she shuddered and focused on opening her locker.

"Don't care what the techs say, never trust the hardware," Trouble muttered, furtively keying in her code. It was hard not to dwell on the fact the ship could decompress at any moment. The concept of vacuum was frankly terrifying. She'd gone under in her hardsuit and as much of her survival gear as they'd allowed; she'd had to fight to keep a weapon on hand and had to settle for the retractable pike currently strapped to her thigh. They wouldn't let her take a gun - and she had to acknowledge the grenade launcher she preferred wouldn't have fit in the pod. Now she quickly grabbed everything she'd been forced to leave behind and squirreled it away on her person. Mostly various edibles. "Snack" food was the greatest discovery Trouble had made since joining Union; abundant, cheap, full of both calories and flavor, and bearing a suspiciously long shelf life. Cryo had left her hungry, but the ship's rations were fine - and extremely nutritional! - no reason to dip into her stash.

Thoroughly provisioned, Trouble noted most of the rest of the team was occupied or had moved elsewhere. Making her way to where the Lancers were slowly gathering, she was instantly glad for her helmet. With at least some of the others wearing hardsuits she didn't look out of place. She wouldn't have to worry about trying to school her expression; attempts to look more friendly usually backfired spectacularly. She'd taken little opportunity to socialize before cryo, but she'd learned a long time ago the key to survival was to ingratiate oneself with those who had power over you. The chain of command was a little unclear here - Lancers were pretty independent, she'd learned - but she would still have to trust these people far enough to have her back in a fight. So far they seemed more interested in reading than chatting, though. She'd been assigned a tablet, but she was still struggling with reading lessons, and her virtual teacher suspected she might have a "learning disability" on that front. She could manage well enough to use a computer for basic purposes and read important labels on equipment, and Union had programs to help with such issues that Trouble had yet to explore, but trying to parse a long article left her with a headache.

Her gaze darted to Hamza when he spoke up, then turned to a stare. She couldn't remember seeing him wear anything like that when they'd first met, but maybe she'd been preoccupied. "The hell you wearing?" she blurted before catching herself, scowling behind the helmet at her tongue's betrayal. Every frackin' time... "Sorry," she plowed ahead, waving a hand in front of her faceplate as if to dismiss the faux pas, "anyway, if I can spend more time asleep than I did the entire rest a' my life combined and still wake up pissed enough to insult the first person I talk at in four years, I doubt they got any friendlier with each other." Trouble shrugged, the movement noisy as some of her loose gear shifted, then collapsed into a seat. She seemed to sag, a tiredness about her that wasn't entirely explained by cryo sickness. "Guess my viewpoint's a little, uh, skewed, but in my experience most everything gets solved by violence in the end, one way or another." Despite her demeanor she didn't seem depressed by that matter-of-fact observation; she could've been talking about the weather.

Right. Time to stop talking before she made more of an ass of herself.

[bc56]

Stella is waiting for the Lancers in the briefing room, but she's patient enough to let them all trickle in before starting the briefing. Her holographic avatar is seated at the room's table. She's dressed in a representation of a naval officer's uniform, but she seems far more relaxed than she has any right to be given the situation.

Spoiler: Stella Portrait

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"Glad you could make it, everyone. The local time is 1000 hours in a roughly 31 hour day." She takes the simulated equivalent of a quick breath before she begins in earnest. "Unfortunately, Lancers Exile and Trouble are correct. The situation has deteriorated over the course of our journey. I've taken the liberty of updating your timelines of events in the Reach and providing records of the notable locations in the system." Each of the Lancers' tablets or implants ping as the new documentation is sent over.

Spoiler: Rough Timeline

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~4000u: Estimated founding date of colony on Merel under SecComm Union

4749u: First contact between ThirdComm Union and Irulin Empire

4913u: Irulin Empire adopts Utopian Pillars, becomes nominally a Union member state.

4989u: Harton Delor declares himself the first Raider Lord and founds the Blue Marauders. The speech he makes when he presents his demands to the Irulin Empire is famous and widely viewed on both sides of the conflict.

4989-5003u: Conflict between Marauders and Empire is ongoing on Galamax, but primarily takes the form of minor skirmishes between Marauders and enforcers for the Galamax Mining Conglomerate.

5003u: The Battle of Refinery 16 brings the conflict into Union's awareness. This victory marks the beginning of the Marauders being more than just an isolated group of malcontents.

5005u: Marauders begin raiding Irulin facilities off of Galamax, especially military and research installations on Lyra.

5006u: Union mediators dispatched to Irul.

5007u: First Marauder raid on Merel takes place.

5010u: Union mediators arrive, hear grievances of both sides. Before a decision can be reached, the Union embassy is firebombed and most of the delegation killed. Neither side claims responsibility. Surviving delegates go into hiding somewhere in the outer system.

5010-5012u: Decommissioned destroyer Liberty Star retrofitted into embassy ship.

5012u: Lancers selected for peacekeeping mission to Ordlan Reach, dispatched aboard Liberty Star.

5013u: Raider Lord Delor killed in the First Battle of Halifax, an attempt to storm the Imperial Palace. His retrofitted mining mech is memorialized in Sapphire City, formerly Refinery 16, which is made the official capital of the Blue Marauders. However, under a lack of a strong figurehead, the Marauders fragment into a loose coalition of Raider Lords and their crews.

5014u: Some Marauders begin targeting shipping lanes and outlying settlements on Merel. Others stick to their original charter of targeting only Imperial installations.

5016u: Present day.

Spoiler: System Cartography

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Irul is a class K0 star, light orange in color. It is orbited by 6 planets and a few small space stations, which are listed here in order of closest to furthest from the star.

Solar Research Station 625: A small, Harrison Armory operated research station orbiting near the sun. Research into advanced fusion, solar power, and other energy sources. Heavily defended due to hazardous nature of research.

Galamax: Volcanic planet intermittently scorched by Irul. Rich in mineral resources, but very hazardous. Owned by the Merel-based Galamax Mining Conglomerate, which primarily sells prospecting rights and equipment to miners. Currently contested by the Blue Marauders, which rose out of a miners' revolt on the planet. Their official capital is Sapphire City, a refinery converted into living quarters for many of their number.

Merel: Homeworld of the Irulin Empire. Earth-like and habitable, but dry. Large amounts of desert, with habitable areas limited to near rivers and coastlines. Ruins dating back to Second Expansion Period colonization are present, but mostly unexplored, and often defended by automated systems. The capital city of Halifax is the site of the Imperial Palace and most government operations, but other noble families have partial control over estates across the inhabited parts of the planet. Merel is orbited by one rocky moon, named Lyra, which is partly colonized.

Nocturne: The third planet is habitable, but uninhabited. It's wreathed in perpetual storms which block nearly all sunlight from reaching its surface, yet supports unique and hazardous xenolife. No moons, but orbited by a large, SSC-affiliated biological research station named Almoner Moth, after a particularly fascinating native lifeform.

Vester: The fourth planet is barren and airless. It is orbited by 5 small moons, one of which, Ecclon, is heavily colonized. Ecclon is an icy moon colonized by a group of xenophobic survivalists. Not much is known about their society.

Oll: The fifth planet is a gas giant with a yellow-orange color, orbited by 8 moons of varying size. There have been intermittent attempts to extract useful gasses from its atmosphere, which have had limited success, and as a result it is littered with abandoned stations.

Reths: The last planet is another gas giant, more greenish due to an unusually high concentration of chlorine in its atmosphere. It has the most moons of any planet in the system by a large number, but most are very small, with only 3 large enough to be significantly notable.

"The good news is, both sides have acknowledged the Liberty Star as neutral ground and accepted Union mediation. Diplomats are on their way to present petitions for Union aid. In the meantime, I have some potential courses of action to discuss." She gestures and holographic displays come to life, displaying a list of her suggestions. "First of all, both sides claim to adhere to the Utopian Pillars. However that may not be the case. You should keep a lookout for any violations and take stock of the living conditions of civilians under both regimes when you get a chance.
Second, I recommend you pay attention to current events in the system even when they don't relate to the war. It's possible there might be other causes that need out assistance here, or the information might help us develop a better solution." Stella pauses, clearly waiting to see if there is any comment.

[Bitter]

Exile

Raising an eyebrow at Trouble’s commentary, Exile flicks his wrist as if brushing away a fly.

“Don’t worry yourself, cryo tries everyone’s nerves. Besides, technically you’re right.” Exile gestures down at himself with a look of dismay. “This outfit is four years out of date, so I’ll need to skim through the news feeds to find out what’s in style now then buy some licenses.”

Taking in trouble from head to toe, Exile pauses in thought for a moment. “You know, that outfit has seen better days and those better days were probably during SecComm. I could look for something for you at the same time if you like?”

Before he gets a reply, Stella flickers to life and begins the briefing.

As Stella talks about the situation Exile is reading through his tablet, though either he’s an amazing speedreader or he’s only flicking through it and not reading it fully. In his mind, Hanza is thinking back to the various Baronial courts he’s been part of and trying to remember the kind of things they would hate a Union Liberation Team to do.

“Question Stella”, he says, once the NHP has stopped their briefing. “I’ve got information on all the major state and corpro actors, but do we have any smaller non-governmental organisations in play that are relevant to the mission? So human rights groups, journalistic organisations critical of their government, political opposition groups, things along that line.”

“My thinking is if these exist, then it gives us knowledgable locals we can work with to give us a more rounded view of the situation than the official government sources and if they don’t exist…” Exile shrugs, “Well either it’s because things are so utopian they’re not needed, which seems damn unlikely in a years long civil war, or they’re not allowed to exist which is fairly telling.”

Exile sits back as if he’s said his piece, then suddenly jolts forward again as another question occurs to him. “Oh and as we have an Irulin Empire, is there an actual Irulin Emperor? I’ve never met an emperor before.”

[Hazrond]

"I agree with Exile, we'll probably get more information about the state of things from the people than we will from the governments." Jin said after taking a few moments to think through the blast of information he just received to his SES implant. "Do we know the status of their local branch of the omninet? People tend to talk more freely without a face to match the words to, but that relies on them being able to connect at all. If nothing else, the state of their omninet culture will be useful in ferreting out who requires closer inspection."

After another few moments he then speaks up again "Though I have to ask, what are our mission objectives for the intervention here in this civil war? Are we intended to ferret out which is more aligned with Union principles then offer backing? Or are we just here to intervene in situations where those principles are clearly violated?"

[n0ble]

Vinson shrugged at Prai's question, then removed a clip of hollow points from where he's slammed it into place. "Depends on the make, I suppose." His voice came out as a monotone, perhaps flecked with a bit of involuntary strain. And even ignoring that, wasnt as though the content of his words was much to make up for four years in silence & cold. As if on a cue a small whirring noise comes from his hardsuit as bundles of conductive fibres begin to bleed heat into the outfit's insulation fabrics. It felt good, if a bit too familiar in the memories it evoked. The striations Bo took a hand from the gun and gripped the air as he made a fist, looking like he was stretching something out. Once. Twice. Three times. He rose and fell in with the others, nodding at the sense in what Trouble had said. Sooner or later...The assault rifle collapsed and found its way back onto the belt.

Other conversation was harder to follow, or confined between other Lancers and what artifice they'd brought with them. Wasnt for him to horn in on such intimacies. Especially not when there was a briefing to be called. He took a seat with the others, letting the chair bare whatever stiffness his nerves had yet to shake out. He looked down at the ping from his slate and queued a general update ahead of the briefing with a signal from his wrist-chip. Infantry won battles. Information won wars. Sometimes either was a currency for peace. Nothing of what scrolled through his tablet instilled that Vinson much. Still, the others' inquests bore merit, so he nodded along before flicking through four years of duelling pings and adverts for the Verdant Social Arc & New Humanity Front. This elicited a frown, and Vinson made sure to unsubscribe from the latter, then went out of his way to block the address outright. Sounded like there was enough extra-solar nationalism already, judging by Stella's briefing.

Reviewing the briefing file made Vinson frown again, at least initially. He’d started closest celestial body to Irul and worked his way in. His choice lodged the Armoury’s research station firmly in the vanguard of Vinson’s procession through the planet summaries. Just as well, far as Bo was concerned, that potential connections with the past we’re confronted first.

[sandmote]

Something is bothering the Cadet, but it takes him a moment to put his finger on it.

"Any word on the survivors of the previous delegation or who attacked the embassy? We're not likely to make much headway unless people trust we're going to stick around." He'd personally rather check out the state of the marauders, but this seems to have the highest priority

[Bitter]

Exile

“I doubt it,” says Exile in reply to Cadet. He had been wondering about the previous embassy, but assumed the lack of further information presented in the brief meant no more information was available.

“Those are important issues though and we’ve got to keep them in mind. There’s Union personnel MIA and potentially in need of rescuing and the people who killed their colleagues have to be presumed free.”

Exile traces a finger over a map of the solar system on his tablet, tapping on Oll and Reths.

“There. If they’ve escaped to the outer system, you have two planets with abandoned space stations and countless moons no-one cares about. Perfect places to hide out but probably too much effort to search through considering this has to be a secondary objective.”

Exile glances to Stella. “We’re going to have to send out some kind of public announcement soon. When we do can we make sure it’s broadcast loud, enough that even someone hidden away on the edge of the system will hear it? If they know help is hear, they may come to us of their own accord.”

[Awful]

"Good morning, all," said Barb politely as she sat in the briefing room in response to Stella's morning greeting. She was aware of Unity's reliance on shackled NHPs, of course; the immorality of it was something that Unity and Chapel had to dance around if they were to cooperate. She listened carefully, not interjecting, as the state of the system was described.

"Determining the fate of the previous Unity team seems a worthwhile task," the nun said agreeably. She paused and, as an aside to Stella, spoke again.

"I do have some search terms I'd like to run any collected information through after this, pree Stella; secondary concerns for the moment, but potentially important."

[bc56]

To Exile, Stella replies, "Your two questions are related. There is an emperor, but his power is greatly limited by the laws of the empire. Most decisions are voted upon by the nobles that make up his council. For the last several years, the proper response to the Marauder situation has been hotly debated in the council and across Irulin society in general. There are generally three camps. Some want to retake Galamax and reestablish imperial law. Some want to cede Galamax to the Marauders, and some wish to accept the demands for change to their system of government. The Galamax Mining Conglomerate has a large sway with the council and has previously been influential to keeping the Council focused on the war."
To Jin, she clarifies, "Your mission is to stabilize the situation here into something aligning with the Pillars. You have the latitude how best to accomplish that, but Union would prefer minimal bloodshed if possible."
She then listens to the concerns about the last set of diplomats and confirms some of the worries. "The perpetrator is still unknown, though there are radical anti-Union elements on both sides that may have done so. The delegation is currently maintaining comms silence for its own safety and has for several years, despite the order being lifted. It is unfortunately possible they fell victim to some unknown threat or are otherwise unable to respond, or they might just be waiting until they are certain it's safe to reemerge."
Lastly, two more files are sent over to the Lancers.

Spoiler: Irulin Government Overview

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Nominally, the Irulin Emperor is ruled by its emperor. However, most decisions are handled by the Imperial Council.
Councillors are elected from the landowning nobles by the people every 10 years. Nine councillors represent each of the nine provinces on Merel, one represents the Imperial City of Halifax, and three represent each of the other inhabited celestial bodies that the Irulin Empire claims dominion over, for a total of 13.
On a local level, each noble is free to govern their estate how they choose so long as it conforms to imperial law. Many use a variation of the council system, but there are other systems in place. Halifax is directly controlled by the Emperor, and as such is beholden only to imperial law, not to any lesser nobles.

Spoiler: Marauder Government Overview

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Originally, the Blue Marauders were mostly an unorganized cult of personality around Harton Delor, the first Raider Lord. He made little effort to create a governmental system, because he claimed to view the Marauders as a temporary measure. When they had an acceptable peace, they would disband. However, in the wake of his death, many of his lieutenants and other influential Marauders claimed the title of Raider Lord for themselves, and a new order was formed. Each Raider Lord is elected from an abstract crew, representing more or less those members willing to be subordinate to them. Raider Lords and their crews have the latitude to operate independently, but in cases where disputes between crews need to be mediated or important decisions of policy must be made, the Raider Lords hold a Meet in Sapphire City to vote on the outcome, which is considered law by all crews.

[Bitter]

Exile

Mulling over the response from Stella, the similarities in her description to some of the baronial courts Hamza has know were hard to ignore.

“And we’ve got dignitaries inbound. They’re trying to get our support and by extension Union’s,” says Exile addressing the group as a whole, “But what do we want to try to get out of them?”

“I’d suggest we press for a temporary ceasefire so we can try and get a handle on the situation and resolve it, plus freedom of movement within their territories to go and investigate wherever we wish. Even that may be a little optimistic, but it should do for a start.”

Exile shrugs. “Just my first thoughts of course, happy to go with another plan of action.”

[Amaril]

The updated briefing makes a good excuse for Prai not to have to look at Hamza's outfit, and to hide her annoyance at half the team being in plainclothes when she's already suited up. "Sounds to me like finding that delegation should be priority one. They're our people, we've got to at least know what happened to 'em. And I'd trust intel from them a lot more than 'net gossip."

She shoots the Karrakin a sidelong look that's not quite a glare. "Putting the word out loud sounds like a good idea. We already got diplomats coming, anyone who doesn't know we're here yet will soon. Don't see what we've got to lose."

[Bitter]

Exile

Hamza could empathise with Prai’s point of view, but at the same time profoundly disagreed with it. He tried to remember what he’s read of her bio, some nomadic shipborne culture which perhaps contributed to a a mentality of looking after your own, but couldn’t recall anything concrete.

“I can’t see how finding the delegation should be priority one,” asks Exile. “We should make efforts to find them, yes, but we weren’t in cryo for four years to find a dozen missing people, that’s not why we’re here. Even putting aside our orders, if you’re not the following orders type and just weighing it up based on importance, it’s maybe a dozen people’s lives versus countless thousands if we don’t get this situation under control. This civil war situation is simply a much bigger deal.”

“Hells,” he says, shaking his head, “They left under their own power so they should be able to get back in their own, not need rescuing. If they can’t it’s because they’re probably dead.”

“But anyway, the point is pretty moot at the moment. Unless we want to spend years checking over every minor moon and abandoned space station, our only currently viable plan is to send out a message, which is something we can do here and now without compromising our real objective.”

[Hazrond]

"I'm not suggesting crowdsourcing our tactical advice. But getting an eye on what people post about their daily lives will help us get a feeling for how those lives operate. Governments have every reason to lie to us in order to get our help, but individuals have less reason to lie when they don't realize they are being monitored." Jin replied to Prai.

"Besides, trying to find the delegation could take months unless they come to us first. And that's even assuming they are still alive. Exile has the right of it, we send out a message announcing our presence and if they reach out to us then we are in a position to consider a rescue operation."

[Amaril]

Now Prai does glare at Hamza a little. "And where do ya want us to start, then? We can't save the whole system all at once. If there's friendlies out there who can point us in the right direction, that sounds like a good first step to me."

She clamps down on it before she can say anything else. Taking a deep breath, she turns pointedly to Jin. "Ya right, no reason not to see what's out there. And if all we can do about the delegation for now is send a message, fair enough. I'm just saying, right now we're operating alone and blind. If we get a chance to change both those things at once, and help out our crew, I think it's worth the trouble."

[Bitter]

Exile

“This guy gets it,” says Hamza, jerking a thumb in Jin’s direction.

“Do you want something to eat by the way?” he asks Jin directly. “The post-cryo munchies are hitting pretty hard now and I’ve got a guy whodoes a mean reconstituted protein omelette if you want me to get him to whip up an extra one. Offers open to everyone,” he adds a moment later, addressing the group as a whole.

He doesn’t get a chance to hear the responses though before Prai has offered a rejoinder. Prai’s glare is returned with nonchalance.

“Even if we could find them, which you still haven’t offered a plan for, we’d be spending a lot of time to try talk to people whose information is 4 years out of date. More than that, any information they have is stuff that they were able to find out themselves without a previous team to hand it to them. My point being, if they figured it out then we can figure out for ourselves too.”

“Anyway as you were kind enough to ask,” Hamza says, as if Prai had offered him a vol-au-vent, “My plan is we speak to the the empire and the marauders. They’ll each give us the dirt on the other.”

“Embellished and exaggerated dirt, sure,” he says, waving this away as if lying to Union about human rights violations and war crimes is just an aside. “But they’ll still point us towards all the bad things the opposing side is doing. That gives us a good place to start investigating and intervening.”

“At a random guess, and don’t hold me to this as it’s uninformed gut feeling, we’re looking at first and third pillar violations for the empire as presumably the miners only revolted and became marauders due to being horribly mistreated and second pillar violations for the marauders as it looks like they’re pirating ships. I mean we’ll know more once we’ve actually talked to them, but even just looking over the history we can take some guesses about what’s going on.”

Hamza sits back, looking very pleased with himself.

“So, omelette anyone?”

[Hazrond]

"If i had to hazard a guess, I'd say we should also look into the Galamax Conglomerate for possible cause for the rebellion. They are the ones who were in control of the planet before the revolt and the most vocal voice pushing the Empire into conflict with the marauders from what it sounds like. That makes them the faction with the biggest stake in this conflict out of anyone."

Jin then turns to Hamza "Also, yes, omelettes sound wonderful. I'd love to join you."

[sandmote]

"We can listen in on the omninet chatter in transit," the Cadet points out, "that's mostly as issue of manpower."

"Although if we want to understand it, we should probably get a lay of the history here. That speech from Delor sounds like a good place to start. Watch it while we eat?" he nods to Hamza.

"And I assume the Empire's Councilor of Galamax works for the Conglomerate, Stella?"

[Bitter]

Exile

Exile taps a button on his tablet, opening a channel to Phillipe.

“Hi Phillipe, can you put together half a dozen of your signature omelettes please? Thanks,” he says, closing the channel before Phillipe can even reply.

“Good point about Galamax,” concedes Hamza to Jim. “Mentally I’ve put Galamax on the Irulin side and was just lumping them together, but they’re more of a sub-faction with their own agenda that may be even more extreme as they’re more invested and have more to lose.”

[bc56]

Stella nods and lets the conversation about how to proceed continue on its own until it manages to slow down again. "I can broadcast a message on secure Union channels inviting the diplomats to contact us, and assign some technicians to scan omninet chatter." She responds to Cardi's questions, however. "The current Councilor of Galamax is Ashlyn Otald, Chief Operations Officer to the Galamax Mining Conglomerate, so you are correct. While you're waiting for your food, I can scrape the omninet for a good quality recording of the speech in question." It only takes her a moment. Her avatar moves to the side as a new hologram takes center stage, one of a man in a hardsuit, not the military grade hardware that Lancers and other Union troops use, but a more industrial design, bulkier and heavily plated, coated in a reflective blue-silver polymer. He's scruffy and unkempt, but he has a steely fire in his eyes. Behind the man is a mech, an industrial model painted bright blue and carrying mining implements: a drill and cutting laser. The image is currently holding still. "As soon as you're ready, I can begin the playback."

[Bitter]

Exile

After a surprisingly short wait, Phillipe appears with small cart carrying several plates of eggs.

Waiting for the others to take a plate first, Hanza grabs the last one for himself and tucks in as he waits for Stella to begin the film. Light, fluffy and peppered with a few spices that Hamza has never bothered to learn, it’s everything you need to pull yourself together after years of cryo.

“Thanks Phillipe, you’re a miracle worker.”

[bc56]

Once the food is distributed, Stella begins the speech.

My fellow citizens of Galamax and by extension, the Irulins Empire. In the past months, you have come to myself and my band as Marauders, as we have been called by the news agencies of the day. But I mean you no harm. I, Harton Delor, am a normal civilian much like yourselves. A technician and a miner. I did not begin this work because I like it. I am no soldier, nor do I wish to be. But the situation here on Galamax has become more than I and many others can bear. The Conglomerate has attempted to stifle our voices, but I will not be stopped. I and my followers will no longer work for the pittance they give, the housing in hot, overcrowded quarters, fed porridge that even the rats don't touch, and locked underground, unable to see the sun. The Empire has refused to hear our grievances, so we will make them heard. They were right to call us Marauders, for we will raid and pillage, we will seize their hardware for our own, and we will build the lives we dreamed of here in this hellscape, not remain under the thumb of corrupt nobility and greedy businesspeople. As a noble lord leads his armies, I will lead my raiders against my enemies. But when peace comes again, there will be no need for me, and I will return to being simply one of many, like all of you. When our demands for a better life have been heard and met, then we will return to where we came and the Empire will be the better. But we will not stop fighting before then. Even if I die, let my words live on. We Galamaxians will be free, no matter the cost.

[sandmote]

The Cadet thanks Phillipe for the food.

After the speech, he's a quiet. "I can't fault the principle, but I don't see the specifics." After another bite he continues, "And I suspect the specifics of what the Marauders want has only become more scattered since Delor's passing. This is excellent, by the way."