A Test, Please

[Taledonia]

Hello all. Some of you may know me, some of you may not. But to get right down to it, I have a favor to ask of your good, kind, and oh so awesome testers. Would you be so kind as to give me the three test scenarios, even though I harbor no intentions of actually joining the ESUS at this point in time? I'd greatly appreciate it, and perhaps I can present a good read. And perhaps, should I choose to join in the future, I can save time by simply referring to this one as my actual application. Cheers.

[Naggeroth]

Test #1: You're suffering an armed rebellion. A group of people opposed to your regime have attacked somewhere of importance. The size of this attack is not important; it could be an attack on an entire world by an army or a school by three guys with guns. Role-play someone involved in the situation on the ground, be it response team, rebel, civilian or all three.

Test #2: There is a planet you wish to control however due to opposing factions in the region an outright attack would spark a war which you could not win. Role-play the methods your government uses to gain control of the planet without using overt conquest.

Test #3: You're involved in a war against a superior enemy. They are crushing you on all fronts. However they are somewhat merciful and thus send your head of state (or some other important national figure) a secret message offering to stop conquering it they willingly give themselves up. They are the only person who initially know of this, but they may tell others. Role-play this person as they make their decision up to the final moment.

[Taledonia]

#1

David Frost switched the large black duffel bag to his left hand, giving his sore right arm a rest. It was heavy, and he had been carrying it for three blocks. The frosted glass doors slid open as he approached the building, revealing the luxurious lobby that was the mouth of the towering skyscraper. Facing the entrance, several meters away, was a giant staircase of red marble, contrasting the paler stone of the main floor. It went up twenty steps, then separated and went off in different directions. Before the staircase sat a pretty young secretary behind a fortress of a desk made of the same marble as the floor. She wore a pink satin blouse whose top buttons were undone, giving a teasing view of what lay underneath. There were fifty floors in the building.

"Good morning," Frost said cheerfully as he approached, his smile becoming even greater as the pretty girl held a smile of her own. She was a picture of beauty. "Good afternoon, Sir. It is past noon."

"Yes, how silly of me. Tell me, is Mr. Harris in? I have an appointment. Frost, David."

"One moment, please." She smiled, and there was an eager look in her big blue eyes as she began searching through her computer screen. "Frost, David," she recited, "One o'clock in the afternoon with Mr. Daniel Harris. He should be back from lunch, do you know the way?"

"Yes, thanks. Good afternoon."

He stopped short of the stairs, and looked up. Shaking the duffel bag, he weighed the choice, and then elected to walk left of the staircase to the elevator. A sound decision, as his destination was the fiftieth floor. It was a quick ride up. Shared with two businessmen in blue suits who got off at the thirtieth floor. There would be no one else sharing the ride to the top, as the fiftieth floor held but one office. As the gold-plated door with the carvings of nymphs and fauns slid open, the office of Daniel Harris became known. It was a square room, whose walls and roof were made of glass. A clear box perched atop the Colonial Investment and Expansion building. The sky was cloudy, and a small rain was beginning to fall; droplets running down the side of the office. At the back of the room, sitting comfortably with his feet up on a mahogany desk reading the newspaper, was Harris, who averted his gaze from the article he was reading to look at the visitor to his domain.

It was a tall man with short black hair, green eyes and a gaunt face devoid of stress-lines. He appeared very regal, majestic. And he moved with confidence as he strode forward; the black suit, simple but elegant, flowing perfectly with his body. A large bag seemingly throwing off the look of a normal businessman. "Mr. Frost, I presume? Tell me, what can I do for you?"

"Mr. Harris," David smiled. His eyes were cold, and threatening. "You can pick up your phone and call whoever you think you should. I have a bomb in this bag. Powerful enough to level this entire city block. I also have a pistol in my coat, so don't try anything." To emphasize the last statement, he drew the weapon, a small plasma pistol.

Daniel Harris slowly sat up straight, folded his newspaper and placed it properly in front of him on his desk. He clasped his hands together on top of the paper, and stared intently into the eyes of this man. "What is it you want, Mr. Frost?"

An Hour Later

The building had been evacuated. All those surrounding it had been as well. Police cruisers floated around the building, their grav engines making them as if feathers caught in the air. Hundreds of them, on the ground as well, blocking the entrance. SWAT teams had taken up positions on the forty-ninth floor, and awaited the order to storm the top, but the elevator was the only way up that last floor. Frost and Harris sat calmly in the office. Harris in his desk chair, Frost in a comfortable lounger at the right wall. He stared intently out the office walls at the surrounding officers whose snipers sat ready for an order to take his head off; their commanders hesitant as they were informed that the terrorist had a dead-man switch. The telephone rang. "Hello? Yes, this is Daniel Harris. Yes, Sir." He placed his hand over the mouthpiece, "Mr. Frost, it's for you."

David stood up calmly, buttoned his jacket and walked over to retrieve the receiver. "Good afternoon. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

A deep, commanding voice came back through the earpiece. "This is Captain Jensen of the Taledon Police Department. You're committing a terrible act of treason and are ordered to surrender yourself immediately."

"Come now, Captain. You don't think I would go through all that effort in dragging that bag up here just to surrender to you, do you? Be reasonable. Ask me what I'm after."

"Certainly not," Jensen replied, "We will not negotiate with you. You are to surrender yourself immediately without conditions."

David sighed. "As you like, Captain. Here is my motive. Listen carefully, I'm sure you'll want it for your report in the future. This government, the supposed protectors of our liberties and rights, has taken a recent turn in its policy. Whether it was our good Consul Rearden or simply this government agency, I do not know, nor care. The recent collectivism displayed on Aldis is sickening. The good citizens and corporate entities colonizing the planet forced to pay exorbitant taxes in order for government funded industry and business to set up. It is altruism, pure and simple. The enslavement of ability to those who have none. I will not tolerate this evil, nor will any of my associates. Let me share with you this fact: At this point in time, there are currently five other friends of mine, with five other similar explosive devices, throughout the city. They will not contact you, nor shall they make any public displays. They will wait.

"What we want, Captain, is for this government to refund all the illegally taken funds it stole from the Aldis settlers to their rightful owners and to once again adopt the morally right policies of free market and individual initiative. You have half an hour. My watch says two twenty-five. I will be listening to the television, Captain, and if, at two fifty-five, Consul Rearden himself has not made an announcement saying the stolen funds are being returned and government intervention within the colonization of Aldis will cease, then I shall activate this bomb."

Jensen swore. He swore again. He swore a third time. "That isn't going to happen, you little twit. We all read the news. Those taxes were perfectly legal and necessary. Surrender yourself before you destroy millions of dollars worth of property and kill good honest citizens. You have two minutes to comply."

He turned to a Lieutenant behind him. "Order our boys to move up to the fiftieth floor. Have them rush that bastard and catch him. When they get close, order the snipers to take him out. And for fucks sake make sure they leave enough time for our men to grab the corpse so that switch doesn't set off the bomb! Order all other available units within the city to start searching the city for the other bombs!"

The elevator opened. Men in navy blue fatigues and wearing energy absorbent vests rushed in; rifles raised and in position. Frost turned, shocked. He raised his pistol and fired, hitting one officer in the shoulder and another shot simply being absorbed in the armor. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small remote.

"Snipers," shouted Jensen, "Take the..."

The ground shook and a deafening sound wave echoed throughout the city, followed closely by an ever expanding bubble of white light and dust.

[Taledonia]

#2

The sun was setting over the city. The structures of glass and steel that stretched towards the heavens sparkling in the last rays of light; hopelessly trying to cling to daylight by reflecting the sun to other areas not directly illuminated. The Royal Palace, sitting atop the high cliff that stood in the middle of the city, magnificent in it's natural beauty and imposing in it's form. A citadel of red brick, the last remaining remnant of the cities legendary past. Stained-glass windows depicting significant events in history. Commodore Henry Christiansen stood on the stone balcony that extended out from the stately office of King Randolph XI, supreme monarch of the Kingdom of Glaus; one of two mega-powers that spanned the planet Vilnius.

"They are ruthless barbarians!" spat the opulent monarch as he rested on a divan, scantily clad young girls fanning him with giant leafs and feeding him fresh fruits from a silver platter. "No respect for good, civilized culture. It's their 'God!' They refuse to dismiss that ancient, idiotic thought of an omniscient being who declared it their divine right to rule over this planet. 'Divine right!' Can you imagine?! They dress in robes, grow their hair to unsightly lengths and never wash. Hardly a society of rulers, wouldn't you say?"

Christiansen looked out at the setting sun with a smile, but his voice was tired and bored. "Quite right, Randolph. Quite right. Still, they have five times the population and landmass under their control than you do, and can raise three times the army you can."

"Exactly!" the king shouted, attempting to sit himself up on the cushions, his flabby form evident under his silk pajamas. "That's why you're here, isn't it?! Yes, you and your fancy spaceships and guns. With Taledonian weaponry, we could sweep across their lands, erasing their barbarian cess pools they call cities, and establish good, cultured Glausian rule."

"You know what we offer." Christiansen turned from the sun and rubbed his thumb against his index finger, enjoying the sensation of cold that was left on his hands by the balcony ledge. His red uniform with silver buttons down the front fitting firmly against his powerful frame.

Randolph eyed the Commodore suspiciously. The man was too calm. Too proper. Too robotic. "It is a steep price. Very steep."

"The terms are non-negotiable."

The cold, blue eyes that stared down unflinchingly were disturbing. He was King of Glaus, and was not accustomed to dealing with anyone like this. The Taledonians had come. Swift and unexpectedly. Large starships appeared in the skies and in orbit of the planet, and they fired down swarms of soldiers dressed in intimidating power armor, wielding advanced weapons and technology that was easily five hundred years more advanced than anything on Vilnius. And this man, Christiansen, the commander of these strangers, had never even made the attempt to show subordination to Randolph. He barely treated the monarch as an equal, but more like the vassal king he knew he would become. "Did you bring the proper documents, Commodore?"

Christiansen signaled for a soldiers who stood at attention by the door to the office, who strode over promptly and produced a large brown envelope. Reaching inside, Christiansen removed several sheets of high-grade paper with small print on them. "You're required to sign everywhere required on each page."

"There's a lot to read, my friend."

"It states simply what was agreed upon. In exchange for outfitting your soldiers with our weaponry, your Kingdom will give us three-quarters of the contents of your current treasury, and will pay a bi-annual tribute of fifty-thousand pounds of gold for the next twelve years. Furthermore, your nation will henceforth be made completely open to Taledonian markets and enterprises."

"That wasn't part of the agreement!" shouted Randolph in a squeaky, pleading voice. "There was nothing about opening our economy to yours!"

"We changed the plan. We felt it would be a wise move. For both our peoples. With Taledonian companies moving into your nation, our peoples will become closer and better allies. Accept the agreement, King Randolph."

He signed.

"I believe that concludes our business. I thank you, monarch. If you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to, so I shall take my leave of your palace. You can expect the first shipment of arms by the end of the week."

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The shuttle shot across the darkened sky, chasing the setting sun around the horizon. The lands of Glaus passed below the craft, disappearing into the distance as it shot over the Sea of Trouble, the natural barrier between the Glaus Kingdom and the Mayer Empire. The landscape was vastly different. Whereas the Glaus inhabited lush river valleys and grasslands, the Mayer controlled vast deserts which melted into thick, dark and uninviting jungles. Unlike the Glaus, who built several small cities and towns that reached upwards, leaving much of the land to the country, the Mayer built sprawling metropolises of buildings no higher than eight floors. They were bizarre collections of ancient and new as structures that had stood for thousands of years sat next to modern apartments and offices. Basic water wells sat just a street away from major public pools. Rice farms were surrounded by factories and warehouses. The shuttle touched down in the square of the capital city of Gazdoo.

"Welcome, Outlander. We've been expecting you, but would have preferred you arrive when the sun was still high, so as God could look upon our meeting and see it as favorable."

"I apologize for my late arrival, but I had other affairs to attend to."

"As you say, Outlander. Please, follow us to the High Fane. Our Lord is anxious to meet with you."

The High Fane, or Palace of God, was a giant complex of concrete. Tucked within the high walls was a barracks, an armory, several stables where camels stood resting or chewing grains, and the High Fane itself. It looked like a temple or Islamic mosque, and was adorned in several colourful rugs. The entrance was flanked by two giants who acted as guards.

Entering the throne room, where a skinny man in a flowing blue robe sat upon a large amount of fluffy cushions on the floor, there was a distinct lack of grandeur. Carpets and rugs being the only adornments of the bare, concrete walls, and the floor had remained dirt. "God greets you, Outlander. Please, come sit with me and let us make peace."

Christiansen walked towards the Emperor of the Mayer and examined his features. He was an aging man, with skin dark and wrinkled by the sun. His body was taut and hard, like a cord, and his eyes blazed with a reverent fury and determination. "I'll stand. This should not take long. My officers have been in touch with you?"

The Emperor bowed his head slightly and replied simply. "Yes, they have."

"So you know what we offer and the price?"

"I do."

"Do you accept?"

"In the name of God, I do."

"Sign these documents, if you please." He handed over a few pages.

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[center]Official Report
Office of Strategic Affairs[/center]
[center]Subject:
Vilnius[/center]

Admiralty.

The peoples of Vilnius, completely engaged in war with each other, are both oblivious to the fact that we have sold both of them weapons in exchange for tribute and open markets. I predict a further escalation of engagement between the two, emboldened by their new weaponry, resulting in both sides becoming drastically weaker. This will allow an easy setting for Taledonian industry to move in and take control of the planets economies, further endebting them to our government and people, and moving them ever closer to being assimilated into our Empire. I suggest the creation of an invasion force to be ready to deploy at the end of the twelve year term, expecting both sides to be completely drained of funds and able-bodied soldiers, as well as being heavily in debt and under complete economic control by our enterprises. Full control over the planet can be achieved in thirteen years.

Commodore Henry Christiansen

[Taledonia]

#3

Erik opened his dreary eyes, a film of dried tears blurring his vision. The sun hurt. He was laying on the floor of the observation deck. An empty bottle of gin laying beside him. It was noon. The ship had lost power and was floating limply in space, facing the systems sun. It had been like that for more than three days. Erik did not know why he had stumbled up to the great glass dome atop the vessel, but he had, and he now regretted it. He sat up, his head throbbing. Why were there no crewmen there to awake him and have him return to the bridge?

"Commodore, we come to you because you seem like the reasonable sort. Do not be petty and refuse to listen to our words."

The voice was burned in his mind. It was thick and heavy, yet elegant. It spoke English with ease, even though its native tongue wasn't similar in any way, and the aliens actual tongue was not made to speak in the same way as a humans. Yet it did, and it did so expertly, without the slightest hint of effort. Erik rubbed his eyes, clearing away the newly formed tears caused by the harsh sunlight flooding the room.

"Your fleet is lost. You remain simply by our desire. Surely you will return the favour?"

The alien was so polite. It acted in the manner of a noble lord or monarch, and made no aggressive displays of any kind, even though it possessed the strength to crush his skull with one hand. Erik cringed as his hangover worsened, becoming once again all too aware of the sun. He shakily got to his feet, and noticed the jacket of his uniform thrown carelessly to the side of the room on the floor. He took a step forwards, his legs giving out beneath him, and crashed back to the floor.

"Please, Commodore, don't let's be uncivil. Your pistol wouldn't have any effect on my armor, anyways. Put it away and let's talk. It is truly to your, and your civilizations benefit to listen."

What had he wanted? It all started with a small probe sent out to explore a distant star system. Next there had been the small alien starship that appeared in Kereth, and refused to surrender. When it was destroyed, five other vessels, the size of small moons, appeared from nowhere and did not waste time. How long did the battle take? Two? Maybe three hours?

"Your people are defenseless, and now face but one last question in your history. Will you submit to our rule? Or shall we erase you from existence? Personally, Commodore, we would prefer the former."

His head banged, and Erik stared evilly at the empty bottle behind him. After the alien delegation had transported themselves back off the command deck, he did not say a word to anyone, ignoring all requests for orders, and simply left to his cabin, where he began drinking. His mouth tasted like vomit, and smelt of death. Get up, you bastard! he told himself, pushing himself back up to his feet, this time taking a moment to gain stability. You have a duty. You are expected to protect the Taledonian nation.

"Surrender to us, Commodore, and we shall make you King of your people. A figurehead position, of course, with no actual duties or authority. We shall have our own people here to administer this system, however we feel your people would accept far more willingly subjugation to one of your kind than directly to us."

They offered you your life, Erik. They offered Taledonia life. But what is life without freedom? Is it even life when you have no free will? He picked up his coat, and slowly pulled it on. Three of the gold buttons were missing, having been pulled off in the hasty struggle to remove the garment in his drunken rage. Erik was beginning to remember what had happened. He had gone into a depression, which led to an uncontrollable anger which trashed his cabin; finally, he had ended up in the observation deck, the sun blaring down upon the drunken man, and he wept uncontrollably till he fell unconscious.

"You are a man of great renown and respect amongst your species; the logical choice for a puppet monarch. So prim and proper in your silly cloth uniform, too. Very respectable, for a barbarian. Come, Commodore, will you bow before your new masters? Or will you throw away your life and the existence of your nation to maintain your honour?"

He had organized a last strike force, consisting of surviving warships and commandeered merchant vessels hastily outfitted with guns. Half of them were destroyed in the first barrage from the alien fleet, before the defending vessels were even within their own firing range. It wasn't long until Erik's flagship was left floating uselessly in the void, the enemy using gravistics to stop his forward momentum and bring him to a complete halt. Then they teleported aboard. Their commanding officer and his officers, no guards. Taledonian weapons bouncing off their armor like spit wads.

Erik fell back down to the floor, tears filling his swelled eyes and running down his cheeks. He moaned in agony, his head throbbing ever more. What had he done? He thought back to the moment, to the conversation he had held with the aliens in front of his crew. He had condemned his people to death, and had sealed his own fate. I've failed. I've fallen. I've willingly given my life, and made its value nothing.

"We have already begun the conquest of your planet. Our warriors are rounding up your citizens. Your monuments cast down, and in their place, processing stations and encampments are being erected. You humans will either submit or die. You have no alternative. I trust you do not regret your decision, Commodore?"

Erik choked on his tears, and sank ever deeper into the ground, curling up into a feeble ball of safety. He rocked back and forth, his red hair a messy streak of colour sticking out, as if a last bit of defiance. He tried to turn off his mind, to stop thinking, but to no avail. What he had done, what he had chosen and what he had answered was burned into his mind and would sit as a tormenting demon haunting him till his death. "No no no no no" he murmured into his chest, tears, mucus and saliva mixing upon his uniform. "I am nothing. I am not living. I do not exist." he sobbed.

"I accept."

[Taledonia]

Well, I guess Nag isn't going to mark me since I'm not actually applying for membership. Any feedback, however, is very welcome. I can only improve with criticism.