Taijitu
Taijitu World Building => Modern Era Fiction => Topic started by: bigbaldben on September 26, 2015, 07:39:50 PM
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Welcome! This is a Taijitu Role Play. Anyone can post, and all posts should be IN CHARACTER (besides this one). This is a MicroRP, which means no more than a paragraph per post (roughly 4 sentences). Please introduce yourself at the beginning of your nation's first post in the thread.
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*******THIS IS A VIDEO CONFERENCE********
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Karson Vitmueller, Ambassador, Republic of Megatridimensional Order
"Thanks everyone for calling in. I will forgo formalities in order to respect everyone's time and get right to the point.
One of our satellites in orbit around Taijitu has gone missing. It has either been destroyed or stolen, as none of our other satellites can find any trace of it since we first lost communications. Since things don't just disappear, our assumption is that one of our Taijitu nations has stolen it. Confess now, acknowledge your mistake, and the Order will go easy on you."
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Jason Jason, Ambassador of the True Democracy of Phoenixia
Wasn't us; I can promise that. The TDP government has been funding a considerable amount into CAoS' new GPS technologies. After all, they need it to properly work their new IoT concepts that seem to be a big rage these days. All of our satellites are in perfect working order.
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Aelin Demid, Ambassador from the Divine People's Republic of Ozia
A screen showing the purple flag of St. Oz substitutes a video feed from the Ozian line. The People's Foreign Policy Bureau has yet to modernize the technology of the Megatrine Consulate.
"Jumping to conclusions from the Megatrines, I'm as shocked as seeing snow fall in winter. Maybe nobody stole your satellite, but it is your engineers deflecting blame. Do you have any evidence of theft or destruction other than a missing signal?"
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Karson Vitmueller, Ambassador, Republic of Megatridimensional Order
Vitmueller nods slightly in agreement.
"As the esteemed ambassador of Ozia has pointed out, and as the esteemed ambassador of Phoenixia has proven, it apparently doesn't take advanced technology to track your satellites. Our remaining satellites, with our hyper advanced magical technology called..." (Vitmueller makes quotes sign with his fingers) "videocameras... allow us to actually see things visually. Our satellite is gone. Also, we received this anonymous transition via our secure channels. And I quote, *ahem...*"
WE GOT UR SATELLITE, SO SUCK IT!"
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Jason Jason
Can you pull up some live footage of what's going on? We never know whether they could take another satellite.
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Karson Vitmueller, Ambassador, Republic of Megatridimensional Order
"I'm sorry, you want to see live footage of our missing satellite?"
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Grokh Kra'ki, Tsa'gum:Foreign Service Office, People's Confederation of Holy Isles
Grohk chuckled a bit, "Well that would surely makes things easier now wouldn't it? We of course would be willing to devote a few of our I.T. crew to help track your lost lamb. Course you'll have to fight the wolf yourself or pay a hunter to do it for you." From the relaxed tone in his voice Grohk has obviously punched off the clock and begun into his nightly routine of Ozian black lagers and cigars.
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Jason Jason
I do sincerely apologize, Mr Kra'ki, but I must answer Mr. Virmueller's question. And that answer is no, but I would like to see footage from a working satellite in space. Actually, now that you mention it...how does the footage look from the broken satellite? If you could, may you pull up both streams in split screen on the big screen?
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Aelin Demid, Ambassador from the Divine People's Republic of Ozia
Aelin hit the mute button on her desk phone and dialed a set of numbers on a red phone marked "ՕՎԼԷՆԻ" (SECURE in Ozian). The phone made audible clicks with a dial tone before finally sounding a ring tone, a deep female voice said on the other line "Hello, People's Bureau of Security and yadda yadda yadda, Dr. Eshkenz speaking."
"Hey Ieter! It's Aelin, I need some info on a missing satellite."
"You still owe me twenty notes!"
"I'll pay you back with Myrorian interest I promise."
"You better, what's this about a missing satellite?"
"The Megatrines lost connection to a satellite and they think someone stole it, I'm just confirming it wasn't us."
"You know Aelin, the Divine People's Republic respect the outer-atmospheric property of,"audible screams were heard in the background along with cries of help in a foreign language.
"What's that Ieter?"
Ozipol - Unknown Location
"Just television." At the office in Ozipol, Ieter was standing in an interrogation room where a couple of women hassled to gag a tied down man with tape. Ieter waved a flat hand at her throat, "Idiots, I'm on the phone, turn it down."
A blue, latexed hand waved a salute to her, then picked up a scalpel and drew its blade across the man's throat. Blood gushed from the severed skin flowing over the cold metal table. His faced tied up with tape now oozed out blood from places the tape was folded and over the side of his face.
"No!" shouted Ieter, "Shit! I have to call you back."
Aelin slammed the red phone back on its hook, "Some fucking help they are."
She turned the mute button off again to hear the incessant gibberish of other Ambassadors. She opened a lower drawer at her desk and picked out a bottle of gin, then poured herself a generous bit of medicine in an empty mug next to her.
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Karson Vitmueller, Ambassador, Republic of Megatridimensional Order
Vitmueller rubbed his temples. This was going worse than he thought possible. He had told the PM this was a stupid thing to do.
"This is a stupid thing to do," he had said.
"Don't care," said the PM. "We can't go declaring war willy-nilly like we used to."
Vitmueller wasn't sure if he was bothered more by the "don't care" shrug or by the use of the word "willy-nilly."
Regardless, Vitmueller was stuck with the ambassador from Phoenixia asking for random things, the ambassador from Khem clearly off-the-clock and the ambassador from St. Oz doing god-knows-what given the sounds and yelling coming from the line, at least until the ambassador mistakenly put herself on mute. Again.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please. Look, if none of you were responsible for stealing our satellite - that, remember, we cannot show you because it is no longer there - that's fine. But I would hope at least one nation would have some intel on what might be happening and be willing to share it in a gesture of good will. It's not outside the realm of possibility - though my superiors would not like me saying so - that this was NOT the work of a government proper. Is there any intel on organizations in your country with the money, technology and motive to pull this off?"
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Jason Jason
"Alright, I think I can pull up some footage from space. I just have to access this file...and drag it over here...and there we go."
A live video feed of what looks to be space appears on Jason's screen. It shows a slightly moving picture of a top-down view of Taijitu.
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Aelin Demid, Ambassador from the Divine People's Republic of Ozia
"I will submit an incident report to our People's Bureau of Security, etc., but information will take a few days to come back. We'll let you know what we find Karson."
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Baladis Semnevanoth, President of Research, National Space Agency
"Demid is right," Baladis said, adjusting his coiffure. "Obviously the Engineering Department used apothecary measurements instead of metric, or fixed a vital computer component with some shoddy soldering, or tried to do an AMA on Roteit with the satellite and fried the communications panel. I'd do an internal audit of your own procedures before accusing any of us of tampering with your technology."
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Grokh Kra'ki, Tsa'gum:Foreign Service Office, People's Confederation of Holy Isles[/i]
Wiping his moth of froth, "We will likewise get to asking some questions and get back to you when we know something."
The screen cuts to the Khemish flag as the audio cuts out.
Picking up his cell-phone Grokh swiftly pulled up the number he needed, "Khel'ed, I need all the information your crew can gather on the movements of Megatrine satellites within the last 48 hours, track down every last packet and find this damn thing." Quickly hanging up and summoning a more professional mindset he dialed again, "I need to know if the Vinnana'Datu or any subsidiaries were involved with this satellite debacle. Make damn sure to flash your rank when you ruffle their feathers, I want them to know it's my girl they're dealing with and our name they're fucking with!" Tossing the phone down Grohk began thinking into his drink bet it was the damned Ozians...
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Karson Vitmueller, Ambassador, Republic of Megatridimensional Order
From one video conference to another, the PM and the Presidium were keen on being updated.
"Ladies, Gentlemen, I will protest one last time and suggest that you allow me a few days to cobble together some information..."
"Which country has our satellite?" interrupted the Rudbert "Raging" Rudlow, the current Order PM.
Karson winced. "No one has claimed responsibility."
"This is outrageous!" said Rudlow, awkwardly pounding his fist on the table - like a child the first time mimicking the actions of a parent - wholly unbelievable.
"Sir, I don't believe we should have asked and I don't believe we've properly researched the other two possibilities - that it malfunctioned, or that this was the work of a non-government entity."
"Preposterous!" said Rudlow. With the face of a beaver and the body of a walrus made almost everything he did comical, and struggling to his feet was no different. "I would suggest, Mr. Vitmueller, that you keep your focus on our enemy nations, especially the Ozians! I know they're behind this - goddamn technophobes!"
"Sir, I..."
"Here's what you're going to do," said Rudlow. Karson cut the transmission. He'd pay a small penance later, no doubt, but the PM did not garner much respect throughout the entire government, and he knew it.
Karson thought for a minute, devising a plan. He could be done as far as he was concerned - as Ambassador, he needed to be the one to make contact with the other nations. Frankly, he didn't care what had actually happened - he would deal with that when he came to it. But following up on this investigation - solving this investigation, would serve him well in his political aspirations. Besides, being Ambassador for the Order was kind of like being tailor for the Emperor without any clothes - full of lots of fancy motions, but no actual production. He had time, he had the drive, and this could be a big win.
Ok, first order of business is to check on the things the PM told him not to - get the story from Space Division and get a list of internal suspects from the Order Guard.
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Rowellie Sison, Junior Security Administrator, Marcos Imperial Space and Sky Security Branch
Maayong umaga, everyone. President Jingbong sends his warmest regards from PRESEC. In light of the unfortunate loss of our neighbors' satellites, my Leader suggests a specially discounted purchase from the Camarkosan Corporate's many military-grade satellites. You have 48 hours to consider this offer.
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Somewhere in Ozipol
There was a knock on the windowless office door, a woman with scrubs and a bloody surgical mask hanging off her neck opened the door, "He's awake."
Ieter, sitting at a desk with just a flickering CRT monitor and piles of papers, tossed a folder on the climbing pile of aged paper, "Good. I couldn't stand to read any more Bureau of Security et cetera incident reports. I might as well get that intern to burn it all."
"Right well, I'm just in medical..."
Ieter stood up and interrupted her, "You're not just one thing Doctor, you became STIA, when you're STIA, you become anything we say you are."
The woman in scrubbed tilted her head down, "Right comrade."
"Show me to our new guest."
Ieter followed the woman down a confusing set of concrete floored hallways, their boots heard echoing all the way up ventilation shafts. It was a strange building to be in, under, whatever, because it was so dead quiet. The doctor pulled a badge from her scrubs, entering an 8 number code on a keypad next to a gray door, and pressing the badge against it to make the door click open. She opened the door and let Ieter walk in first.
A single light illuminated a surgical table at the center where a man was strapped down and had a bandaged throat. He managed a weak and breathless, "W-Where, am I?" in broken Ozian.
Ieter laughed, responding back to him like a grade school instructor teaching Ozian as a foreign language, "Ozipol, Sir Fletcher." She switched to Megatrine Inglish, "You were declared dead for awhile Mr. Fletcher. Unfortunately for you, Ozia's brightest trauma surgeons were on standby. Also unfortunately, you weren't dead long enough for brain damage to be a possibility. So now, the last things you'll remember Fletcher, could be me."
"W-What am I doing in Ozipol? How did I get here?" He switched back to his native language.
"I dragged you here, and how you got here Fletcher is a whole other story. As I understand it Fletcher you've never been to Ozia, how do you like your stay at Divine Ozia so far?"
He played along with sarcasm, "Swimmingly"
"Funny you should say that!" The doctor in scrubs wrapped a piece of cloth over his face and another woman in scrubs started pouring water over his mouth. After a moment of pouring they stopped and removed the clothing. Ieter continued, "This is child's play compared to what else we might do. I know this weather isn't what you usually experience in the Order. I can get out Gaea's Jacket and we can discuss things more when you catch your breath again."
His eyes dilated, skin whitened, "No, no, not that. I don't know what I did to you people. I'm sorry. I never meant to disrespect Gaea, God bless her, I mean Gaea bless her, I mean Gaea be holy." He teared up, "Anything but the jacket! Not that, never that. I'll talk, I'll talk. I never did anything to the Ozia-... People's Government, I swear! Just anything but the jacket!"
Ieter lowered her head closer to the washed out face of the man, "How will I know you'll be truthful Mr. Fletcher. You are a man who makes business in lies are you not? Do you have anything to offer? You have kids don't you? Little Barry and Ashley." She looked at her watch, "They should be in bed by now, no? Their grandmother, your mother, reading the Durlothic Tales to them, well not the real ones. You bought them the modern revised version. It doesn't even include anything about The Three Crystalisks because it's so inappropriate for children."
"H-How do you know that?"
Ieter grasped his bandaged throat, applying pressure to his new wounds, blood dribbling out of the sides from the sutures starting to tear, "I know everything about you Fletcher! Maybe next Celebration Day, I'll wear red, and I'll go visit your children. I will tell them that I'm there to take them, not give presents! Are your children naughty Fletcher? Are they? Because their father sure as hell is, and as they say in Megatrine, the apple doesn't fall far from the fucking tree. If you don't tell me what I need to know Fletcher, I'll call my monster to get your boy. All I have to say is Monster, come get the boy. Come get innocent Barry. Then will you talk? Will you talk then Fletcher? Or will I have to call monster to get the girl too? I hope you are honest with me as a drunken fool Fletcher, or I'll rob even more. More and more, until there's nobody to speak about anyone you've ever cared about ever again. Do you want me to make them disappear? Vanish without anyone knowing? You might be rich Fletcher, but you're not that rich. So do you understand the fucking cost of dishonesty now Fletcher? Are we crystal fucking clear?"
Just as the blood from his broken sutures dripped from the bandage and onto her hands so did from his eyes, it was uncontrollable. "Y-yes."
"Yes what? Who are you speaking to? I'll give you a hint, it starts with the color of your blood on my hand"
"Y-yes, Red Robber."
Ieter's tone shifted back to her soft voice, "Fletcher, what were you doing accessing that Megatrine satellite? You've made us cause a lot of trouble forcing it onto a crash course. But take your time, because I have all day. Don't think that I won't know if you're lying either, because I'm just dotting i's and crossing t's."
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Irahn Rikku, Assistant Secretary for Foreign Affairs, Chancellery of Lindisfarne, Free State of Lindisfarne
Greetings all,
"Sorry for connecting so late, but I had to make sure I was fully informed before engaging in this confrence.
To adress the issue, I have checked with our space agency and our intelligence community and we have drawn a blank. Naturally the Free State of Lindisfarne would never engage in anything like this, but it seems like no other group or organization in Lindisfarne have had anything to do with it. Needless to say we have increased aur vigilance in regards to our own sattelite systems, both military, communication and commercial. If we find anything relevant, we will undertake to immediately inform the Magatridimensional Order."
(orders papers on desk, sipping from a glass of water and awaiting next communication)
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Tabula Rasa Center for Space Acquisition, Operations Division
Grigson Traller, head of space division, was having his greatest day ever. Most of his subordinates were on vacation or otherwise occupied, there were no pressing issues, and he had been playing video games in his office most of the day.
The great day ended when the caller id showed the Ambassador called. Traller couldn't imagine what they wanted with him, but knew he'd better pick up and find out.
"Please hold for Ambassador Vitmueller."
Oh dammit, he was going to be talking to the Ambassador himself. Though it was only voice, Traller sat up straight and dusted the donut crumbs off of his tie.
"This is Ambassador Vitmueller. Am I speaking with Mr. Traller?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm calling to inquire about our missing satellite."
Dear sweet Petrus, thought Traller. I knew there was something I should be doing.
"Uh, yes sir, what about it?"
"Well, first, what do you know and second, where is your team currently on the investigation?"
"Ah, well, I don't think there's much I can add to the initial report. Satellite 5150 was last in contact at 1400 10 Aquaire AR2. It disappeared between 1400 and uh 1530, when it was out of view of our other Satellites." Traller paused, not sure where to go with this.
Vitmueller's tone did not seem sympathetic. "And? What have you found in the last 24 hours."
"Oh, well, we, uh are pursuing a number of leads, though.. we are understaffed and under budget for this sort of investigation." Traller thought he was pretty slick with that answer. "I'm sure you understand, what with the recent budget..."
"So you have found out nothing," said Vitmueller.
"Well, no, not yet... we were under the impression that MinPsych had the lead on this..."
"So you have done nothing," said Vitmueller.
"Uh, as I said we are pursuing a number of..." His eyes caught the phone display, which said "disconnected." "Hello?" he said to confirm. Vitmueller was gone. He hung up the phone and sighed - there would be consequences to this, and not pleasant ones. He put his feet up on the desk, picked up the control and went back to his video game.
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Ministry of Psychology, Intelligence Division
"We believe the Ozians have Fletcher."
"So? Fletcher is dead."
"That seemed to be the case, but we believe that is no longer true."
"I saw the footage. His spacesuit was compromised and he was motionless. He was space debris."
"And the Ozians picked him up. One of those - whatever they call their space ships - picked him up."
"How do you know it was them?"
"Marked ship. Don't forget, we were supposed to be blacked out to that area visually. They had no reason to believe we could see them. Except for the AI Cam Fletcher took with him, we would have been. Fortuitous that we had the right angle."
"So the Ozians crashed our satellite?"
"Not necessarily. We only know they picked up Fletcher. They could have been investigating, you know, the fucking satellite falling out of the sky."
"True. They've made no contact regarding Fletcher?"
"No."
"Do you think they could have revived him?"
"Yes. We will know more when we hear from the Insider."
"He's trusted enough to know? This would be top, top secret if true and they aren't contacting us."
"Yes. He is firmly embedded in their organization."
"Ok, so we wait to hear from him?"
"Can't. Fletcher knows him."
"Oh good goddamn! What are the odds?"
"Fletcher can expose the program and our most valuable spy."
"How much time do we have? Can the Ozians make him talk?"
"These are the Ozians - face to the world notwithstanding- they know how to make people talk, and Fletcher, trained as he is, will be no exception. The only question is what will he say when he does?
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Tabula Rasa Center for Space Acquisition, Operations Division
"Jang, check this out."
Jang's eyes darted over the page. "Jingbong ...Leader suggests ... discounted... Camarkosan Corporate's many military-grade satellites.. 48 hours?!? Is this a fucking ransom note?"
Prezia laughed. "I thought the same thing."
"Why would we buy a satellite when we don't even know what happened to the one we lost? We're going to buy one, launch it and lose it also?"
"Well," said Prezia, pushing up her black-rimmed glasses,"MinPsych has other plans."
"MinPsych??"
"Yeah, I have an order here to make the buy."
"What? Why?! Marcos is only going to rip us off, and with inferior tech to boot."
"I don't know, Jang," Prezia shrugged. "I never know."
"Ok," said Jang. Give me the p.o. and I'll make the call."
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Col. Ignacio Telo
Marcos Imperial Space and Sky Security Branch, Main Campus
"Did Camarcorp receive a reply from the Order?" Telo inquired to the younger officer in Foreign Communications.
"Colonel, we have them on Channel 1. Should I wire them to your station?"The assistant noted, her head peeking out from the booth.
"No, that's not necessary. Give them the product details and the agreement documents through the wire and have a liaison ready to attend to them. The bureaucratic process must be swift as usual. Don't make them wait." Telo ordered, opening his drawer. The video feeds around the assistant's main computer showed a variety of views from around what seemed to be burning wreckage in a farmland area. He sifted through the documents.
"What happens when they need to have the satellite shipped? Will we be overseeing logistics? Do you need an HK around to oversee the trade-off?" Local villagers are gathered outside a secure perimeter. The Megatrine insignia can be made out from a broken-off dish and plating fragments.
"No. Have standard security detail present aboard the Romrov craft. I'm confident this deal will go as planned." Telo stopped sifting, finding his file. He pulls it out. The scenes on the monitors show the wreckage in new angles. There is a badly disfigured corpse visible beneath it, its legs poking out. He opens the document folder. "CAMARCORP PROCEDURES TO INITIATE HOSTILE FINANCIAL PRESSURE - IPO CERTIFIED".
"Sir, I don't trust the Order when they're pissed." The assistant says, concerned.
"Don't trust the Order, full stop, Sedna. Now, we're going to deliver their satellite, no strings attached." Telo retorted, more amused than irritated.
The video feed angles switch again, this time at a much closer distance. Robotic arms are seen placing dead bodies under the wreckage, putting broken satellite rubble on top of them. Camera crews are clearly seen in the background. At far left, a man is being beaten by unknown figures. Later, said man dies and is placed among the bodies.
"We're going to let the Order see what their missing satellite did here in the heart of the Philippines."