Communiqué from The Holy Empire of Rochard

[Rochard]

Greetings, great alliance. I'm a very new player on Nationstates (with this nation) and I hope to play a sort of strange combination of new-luddite Victorian/Old Prussian steampunk but whose government oppresses high technology as against Biblical principles despite possessing it for their own use.

I wish to apply for membership of the ESUS, since despite the past-tech basis of the majority of my nation, it DOES have a spacefleet, and it's located on another planet. Here's a bit of backstory:

Once the Old Earther's discovered faster than light travel was not only possible, but simple, Humanity spread amongst the stars like a cancer. With every new scientific discovery the newly colonised universe brought, mankind became increasingly doubtful that an almighty creator had produced the cosmos. They reasoned that with their exponential technological growth, presumably with enough time, even humanity itself could create stars from dust and life from mud.

Thomas Rochard, a famed genius of multiple disciplines and devout believer in God, rejected these principles and swiftly gathered a flock of likeminded individuals. They eventually succeded in procuring enough funds to escape Earth in a sleeper ship. Many centuries later, they landed on the world to be known as Rochard. With Thomas Rochard crowned King Thomas I, by the grace of God they founded their society upon a luddite philosophy, but never forgot their past. They knew that one day, races who do not accept their way of life would try to exterminate them, and so prepared their military appropriately while simultaneously preserving their pseudo-Victorian society.

I'm prepared to undergo any tests you may feel the need to administer and look forward to roleplaying with you all.

- Diego.

[Zerstorendar]

Sounds like an interesting concept. Good luck with the tests.

[Rochard]

Thanks. I await my first test.

[Trailers]

Ah! Another steampunk nation! Jordaxia won't feel so lonely now. :3 Ok down to business.

Hello. Welcome to the ESUS application process. In case you haven't read the sticky, the way this works is I am going to issue you three RP scenarios that you will play out to their completion. These scenarios are relatively freeform, which means you can do what you want as long as you remain within any parameters I set. You don't have to play out the scenarios as your nation, however, and can simply take up the role of some random civilization. These are just tests, so if you do play as your nation, they don't have to be counted in your nations history. Also, the scenarios may or may not refer to each other.

Ok, ready?

Scenario #1: I want to see you showcase your steampunk technology, this test does not have to be included in your history or backstory, and basically won't "count" outside the tests. A relatively advanced, though rather small neighboring nation has seen your rise to dominance on Rochard, and they have noted through various methods of recon that they are centuries ahead of you in warfare technology. Now they want what you got, 'cause dammit, it's dog-eat-dog in our little galaxy. Without warning a sizeable fleet has warped/jumped (whathaveyou) into the outer boundaries of your system, and they are demanding your surrender. Defend your territory by any means necessary. Show me how much ass a coal powered starship can kick.

Scenario #2: A religious radical has been gathering notice in the public eye. It is his opinion that the government has departed from its original ideals and is far too advanced in God's eyes. He was a peaceful protester at first, but now he has gathered a following and is under the impression that violence will get him his way. A rash of bombings and arson in the far reaches of your domain are believed to be his doing. Contain the situation, convince your people that he is wrong, and come to a resolution.

Scenario #3: You've been admitted into the Extra Solar Union, only to have some rampant trans-stellar virus from some foreign visitor take hold in your poor quarter (You can blame the Trailarii if ya want, us damn space Greeks never bathe). Play out how you combat this virus with your comparatively low tech. You may take the role of a Traileric diplomat if you like in your story and play out Extra Solar Union medical assistance if you so desire.

I look forward to seeing you in action. Good luck.

[Rochard]

My submissions will follow a continuous story through all three scenarios, so this is unfinished, but covers scenario one:

I saw in the night visions, and, behold, one like the Son of man came with the clouds of heaven, and came to the Ancient of days, and they brought him near before him.

And there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, and languages, should serve him: his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed.
[right]- Daniel 7:13-14[/right]

The operations room on board the Righteous Fury was quiet, relaxed by comparison with the panic surface-side. Word by wire had just arrived: the New Republic, a Godless and immoral neighbour, had positioned a fleet of warships beyond the sixth planet of the system, and were approaching at a significant fraction of c. The flagship was not combat ready, manned by a skeleton crew and mid-refit; it nonetheless carved an imposing silhouette against the backdrop of Rochard, several hundred kilometres below. The Commodore stood at the rear, watching his crew intently.

“Launch profile?� he barked.

“Holding at minus ten minutes, sir. I await your go.�

“Right, then, run the diagnostic again. We must be as ready as able. This ship has seen many conflicts, and I refuse to allow this to be its last.�

Everyone was on edge from not knowing what the future held. From just generally not knowing – there were so many unaccounted variables. The New Republic had never been an ally, but they were a valuable trading partner, if Godless, and they had never before been openly hostile. There had been little warning beyond the eighteen minutes it took for the flash of hawking radiation to traverse the gulf of space and wash over the Righteous Fury’s sensors. Frankly, the Commodore thought, they were wholly underprepared. The New Republicans did not subscribe to the strict technological limits as dictated in the Revised Rochardan Bible and they would therefore no doubt have weapons far beyond what the Empire could field. Nonetheless, he contemplated, God was definitively on Rochard’s side.

“Diagnostic complete, sir. Looks pretty good to me, considering the ship is only 70% refitted. Engine idle at about twelve percent, fuel tanks are loaded, umbilical disconnects are reporting ready for launch, sensors singing on all wavelengths and main weapons are warmed up. Engineering reports a go when ready.�

“Well then,� the Commodore breathed, “get on the blower to command. Get things moving.�

Down near the rear of the ship, far below the drive compartment and stores, lay a series of airlocks. Some of them were small, designed for crew egress; others were larger, holding transfer shuttles and docking mechanisms. One bay, largest of them all, held a pair of five hundred tonne diversion drones. The drones carried no equipment beyond a simple navigation computer and a dirty fission drive, but they could boast a respectable two hundred gee acceleration. These drones, in the name of the King and of God, would accelerate towards the enemy fleet, diverting incoming fire and hopefully giving the Righteous Fury enough time to mount an offence. The cruisers would then clean up before the flagship advanced and delivered the final blow. At least, that was the theory.

Deep in the guts of the ship, the drones were awaking from a five year sleep. A team of ratings hurried under the vigilant gaze of two chief petty officers, uncoupling the heavy fuel pipes and prepping them for launch.

[center]* * *[/center]

The New Republican starship Iridescence slipped through the velvet darkness of Rochard’s outer solar system. Enormously outmassing and outgunning anything the Rochardan navy could throw at it, it nonetheless possessed a grace not befitting a ship of its size. Undetectable by passive sensors except from the rear, it advanced in total silence towards the tiny speck of blue far in the distance. The crew observed their target through weary eyes; fleet command had ordered this attack at very short notice and they were feeling decidedly underprepared – not to mention tired. Fourteen hour shifts had become the painful norm.

The operation was very hush-hush, and the captain had been unusually tight lipped regarding his orders, not to mention the reason for this attack on their backwards but relatively harmless neighbours. Now that they were only eight million kilometres from the planet, sensors began to resolve distinct shapes. The sensor technician reported several small ships in orbit, most appearing to run on dirty saltwater fission drives – the poor man’s nuclear reactor. Inefficient, inexpensive and bloody dangerous. One misplaced shot and half the planet would be irradiated. Presumably the Rochardans, for all their technological backwardness, would understand this principle and play their cards close to their chest: keep the ships in tight orbit to avoid an interstellar atrocity from being committed. The New Republic did not want that kind of press. It was bad enough attacking unprovoked.

[center]* * *[/center]

In orbit, the Righteous Fury was preparing to leave. Thick pipes gurgling reactor coolant detached themselves from the hull, the heavy fuel pipes snuck back into their dry-dock cavities and finally the support struts were retracted. Sitting on the back of a five thousand tonne reactor, its belly full of hydrogen reaction mass and liquid refrigerant, the ship gracelessly ejected superheated plasma from its rear and slowly built speed. The corridors groaned as acceleration increased. Engineering still hadn’t tracked down the annoying buzzing of steel on steel as the reactor rammed a mixture of electrons and neutrons into a stream of hydrogen atoms at just under the speed of light. The lights flickered as the grid switched from dry-dock to internal power, and the whine of the ventilation system did nothing to mask the slightly sickly smell of over-filtered air.

“Contact! Incoming missiles!�

“So soon?� the Commodore groaned. “How’s our hull holding up?�

“The hull plating isn’t complete yet, sir. A direct hit to the wrong place and we’d be dead before we noticed.�

“Brilliant. Okay, launch the drones, flood all EM frequencies, man the turrets, prepare the flak cannons and for God’s sake, someone get me a cup of coffee!�

The operations room leapt into a frenzy of action, petty officers transferring instructions by wire and paper, chief petty officers signing off orders and checking weapon inventory by manual count, manual switches being thrown at a pace that filled the room with the sound of ten thousand typewriters. The air swiftly became thick with nervous sweat and anticipation.

Meanwhile, five million kilometres away but closing fast, the New Republican missiles accelerated at an easy five hundred gee before shutting down their main drives and coasting towards their targets in a low powered stealth mode. They would remain virtually undetectable except to a high-powered active sensor sweep until mere seconds from impact, when their auxiliary control systems would reactivate for the final moments of their deadly lives, making minor course adjustments at high speed to maximise the effectiveness of their detonation.

The Rochardan navy began to peel themselves from the gravity well of their home planet and rose into battle formation, the cruisers flanking the flagship on all sides. Their numbers were few; the New Republican fleet’s flagship easily outmassed the entire Rochardan fleet. The Righteous Fury rang like a bell as the drones detached themselves from their moorings and sped far ahead of the fleet before separating and approaching the enemy from opposing vectors. They screamed false EM signatures into the void, pulling electromagnetic blankets over their small form that would fool even the most accurately attuned sensors into thinking they were significantly larger than reality.

Throughout the fleet free-fall alarms were sounding. Officers yanked at their seat restraints and gritted their teeth under the crushing acceleration. Throughout the decks of the Righteous Fury, petty officers screamed at their subordinates, calling them to crash stations. Down in the drive maintenance section, the engineers were cursing up a storm as they furiously flicked heavy switches in quick succession, manually monitoring the flow of electrons into the core. Then, without any fuss, the warship’s drive singularity entered shutdown. Battle velocity now reached, the crew undid their restraints and the ship coasted on a wave of energetic plasma towards the enemy fleet inexorably approaching from the opposite celestial plane.

In the command deck, a nightmare orchestra of alarms were shrilling for attention. Lights flickered overhead in a continuous stream of blue, red and green; the blow-out alarm screamed, as did the gravity failure alarm. Everything. The Commodore cursed under his breath and grappled at an emergency locker; “Report!� he shouted.

“Sir, regret to inform you that a section of our hull has collapsed under acceleration. We’re venting atmosphere.�

“Seal those sections and reroute power to the gravity generators, I can’t work while I’m concentrating on not ejecting my lunch!� he barked, clinging to a handhold in the wall, looking decidedly green around the gills. “God damn it!�

[center]* * *[/center]

“This is going to be a massacre,� the captain of the Iridescence noted sadly, looking over the latest sensor reports. They noted with clinical detail that the Rochardan fleet had already encountered difficulties before engagement had even occurred.

Two kilometres long, sleek and grey, the New Republican flagship dwarfed the entire Rochardan fleet. Boasting the latest in offensive technology and a whole host of other stuff to boot, it slid through the vacuum like a shark would through water, slowly advancing on its helpless prey. It had noted the diversion drones several minutes prior. Their acceleration profiles stuck out like a sore thumb against the slow, lumbering arcs the real vessels carved. The ship’s AI had barely had to think before diverting missiles to take them out long before their effectiveness could be realised. They exploded with little fanfare, naked singularities tearing through their electromagnetic shielding and hull alike with terrifying ease.

[center]* * *[/center]

“Sir, regret to inform you that the diversion drones have been lost. They are no longer responding to communication. We will enter engagement range with the enemy in approximately sixty seconds. What are your orders?�

The Commodore hesitated. The seconds ticked by with agonising slowness.

“Sir? Commodore... we are almost inside their envelope. We must do something!�

“Fire missiles!�

The vacuum erupted into a cacophony of streaking pins of light, the fusion drives of the missiles tearing through the no mans land separating the fleets. Unlike their New Republican counterparts, these missiles were detectable to almost interstellar distances with their noise and their pomp, but their deadly cargo of antimatter packed just as much heat. Live missiles were not something any starship commander wanted to get close to, detectable or not.

A halo of fire erupted around the Rochardan flagship. The New Republican missiles had met their targets with devastating efficiency, and the entire cruiser squadron imploded, one by one. Minor secondary explosions followed as fuel lines caught fire, but the final swansong of the Rochardan navy came as the fission drives ruptured and space shone under a nuclear star.

Meanwhile, the Rochardan missiles crashed (mostly) harmlessly into the New Republican shields and died a swift death with little honour or effect.

The Commodore was in shock. He’d just lost a war without a single kill. “Get us the hell out of here!� he screamed. “Execute command bugout!�

A fundamental problem with combat in space was that if things begin to go wrong, they could do so with dizzying speed – and to make matters worse, catastrophe would only become visible to a ship that was so deep within the enemy’s engagement range that escape was nearly impossible. Unknown to the crews of the Rochardan fleet, they had already lost before powering up their engines. The New Republican offensive capabilities were simply too far and above their ability to compete.

Debris from the battle rained down on Rochard for weeks following the New Republican occupation, some larger than others. There were many reports from outlying settlements of lifeboats surviving and Rochardan space crews, in combination with the militia, mounting guerrilla campaigns against the invaders. One such craft, however, did not conform to any Rochardan aesthetic. Neither did the man inside it.

[Trailers]

I like what I see thus far, and I can't wait for the other 2 scenarios.