In the early hours of another day of work, administrator Tomoe was walking towards her office until she was accosted by three men, dressed in maintenance regulars. The man in the middle points his finger at the administrator and says:
“
We know what you've been up to, administrator.
You better give up on any funny ideas. Understood?
Get your shit together.
”
As soon as the main man stopped talking, they walk past Tomoe with a disgruntled look, dispersing down the station's corridors.
They were unrecognizable to the administrator - their faces all too common, and wore nothing that would catch attention or be distinguishable.
Shortly after the encounter, Tomoe sat at her desk in an office off of the stations control room, writing messages on the neural net.
To: Dr. John Holliday, MFE
Subject: Bethlehem Station
Konichiwa, John.
I remember some time ago you mentioned needing to 'take another poke' at the Erie situation, and figured the current situation may overlap.
Some militants decided to warn me in a corridor over what I presume is my thusfar unsuccesful attempt to simply open a dialogue with Liberty.
Well, Militants or LSF trying to stir the pot.
Once you're ready to go to Erie, mind dropping by Bethlehem first.
Having a stable station would probably make the ground game a bit more stable too.
--Kashiwaba Tomoe, ZDF Exploratory Corps (I dont care if the main ZDF fell apart, the Corps still exists)
Well, thats one......
If they're militants they'll respect him.
But sometimes it is better to be feared....
And they just got done with a major project so they might have some boots avalible.......
From: Kashiwaba Tomoe, Bethlehem Station
To: Phoenix, via Freeport 11
Hey guys, do you have a squad or two of troops to spare to bolster station security here on Bethlehem?
I haven't even gotten Liberty to respond to any comms yet and already have people trying to intimidate me in the corridors.
They were not exactly convincing at that, but it's the thought that counts.
Pretty sure they were just militants worried I'd sell out Bethlehem like Erie's leadership did way back when, but cant discount them being LSF trying to stir shit up.
But i digress.
Y'all have lots of sway among the more reasonable of the militant community, and the less reasonable know you're not keen on being fucked with.
Having some of your guys needing R&R on a quiet station help with security could help calm the less reasonable element.
--Kashiwaba Tomoe, ZDF Exploratory Corps (I dont care if the main ZDF fell apart, the Corps still exists)
Tomoe sighed and streched.
She hated writing messages, life was much simpler on a ship that was out of contact with Sirius for years at a time, you just sent someone a comm or met face to face.
'Well its time' she thought 'if those jackasses had just waited another hour, they would have heard what Im about to say in this meeting and probably liked it.... unless they really are LSF, then they probably would hate someone being reasonable.'
She got up, making sure her jumpsuit wasn't wrinkled too badly, double checking the concealed weapons and various bits of scientific equipment she still carried out of habit, even if she hadn't regularly worked in a lab for years now.
'Well here goes'
She walked out of her office into Bethlehems command room in the stations core, not to be confused with the control tower that ran docking and posed as the stations nerve center, that was just a decoy, the stations real nerve center was deep within.
"Ok everyone, the various headaches we had to deal with over the past few weeks have delayed this policy meeting, we've all worked together some at this point, so I'll keep it brief, noone likes a self-important command speech that wont end.
Bethlehem is in a fairly good state right now.
That most recent rogue attempt at establishing a presence onboard has been tossed out of the airlock
Maintence having the airlocks gravity generator boost them on a trajectory to burn up on planet Tyrone was a good call.
Mining survey teams, working with elements of the ZDF Exploratory Corps have been giving the WIlkes-Barre field another more thorough look.
Our mining ships are helping to keep Clevland station running at capacity, as well as building up our own resource stockpiles
Liberty ignores us, for now, and we continue to ship smaller ammounts of cargo and slowly expand the station.
That will not last.
I know it, you know it.
As some of you are aware, the other day I sent a brief communique to Liberty, just to open dialouge.
I know, I know, some of you really dont like talking to them, look where that got Erie.
We are NOT inviting them on the station, but at the same time, this nice mostly peaceful status quo we have going will not last.
The solution is simple in its complexity.... diplomacy.
We need to find a way to bring back the old treaty of Bethlehem in some form, to guarantee our neutral status.
I know some of our departments, especially mining and construction, would want to build small outlying stations nearby, but dare not risk the ire of Liberty noticing such a facility before it has expanded enough to defend itself.
Thats why we need to get Liberty to come to some sort of arrangement with us, so we can expand.
Then we need to get legitimate buisness partners for those expansions, if it's making for good buisness Liberty is more likely to actually honor it's treaty and leave us alone, who knows they might even agree to not shoot on sight if we brought some larger ships in to help secure our little region of the system.
Eavesdroppers, PART II Scars are permanent reminders
The echo of low-powered engines thrumming through the maintenance corridors of Bethlehem Station is broken by a sharp clang - the signal that someone has overridden the communications array. A crowd of Zoners gathers in the main atrium, drawn by the unmistakable voice of Commander Ryzek, ex-Freeport security officer, Operation Pesticide veteran and now the de facto leader of one of the militant wings of Zoner radicals. His tone is grim. The station’s public speakers buzz to life, silencing the hall.
“
Administrator Tomoe... I listened to your address. I ask you this: what price do you place on dignity? On the blood spilled on Erie’s soil when Liberty boots cracked through our gardens and gunships shadowed our skies?
We Zoners built this way of life with our own hands. We bled for it. We left the chains of the Houses’ politics, the Houses’ greed, the Houses’ corrupt governments... and now you dare open your ears to the very tyrants who occupy our home?
Liberty is not a partner. It is a parasite. It feeds on worlds like Erie, cloaked in promises and treaties - and when it’s done, it burns the rest.
You think you can barter with snakes and not get bit?
I speak now not just for the free Zoners. I speak for every man and woman who saw the Erisian sky turn black with Liberty fire. We will not bow. We will not trade with our oppressors. And if this station becomes a platform for compromise with tyrants… then Bethlehem will no longer be a sanctuary.
Consider this your final warning, Administrator. The people have long memories, and short patience.
”
The crowd cheers...
The militants are enraged by the mere mention of diplomacy.
Posts: 8,732
Threads: 744
Joined: Aug 2008
Staff roles: Moderator
Miss Tomoe,
it has been awhile. I am proud to say that I keep a home on Erie, legally bought and paid for. Erie is a Zoner planet and in the eyes of the Zoners here, it will always be. Liberty are the ones with the problem, not the Zoners.
The Liberty government will see Bethlehem as insignificant at least for the short term. The only way the Zoner population on Erie will be "forgiving" is if it is returned to the Zoner people under Zoner leadership.
Still, I am willing to get some dialogue going. Just keep in mind the words in which I spoke.
A man stood away from the cacophony of cheering Zoners. He was leaning against a bulkhead, hands in his pockets as he looked up towards the intercom not 20 feet away, hanging listlessly from a string of 550-cord. A few Zoners hung around him, milling about. He listened to the passing commentary. Some sided with the administrator, citing the burnout of trying to fight against Liberty; complaining about the lack of supplies on the station. Others wanted to find the administrator and "make an example out of her." Raguel smirked at the latter, about the only mirth he was capable of these days. He pulled his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms. He closed his eyes and brought his head down to think before he spoke. When he did speak, his voice was raspy and dark; resembling the sound of metal being dragged across a bulkhead.
"Seems to me someone needs to take care of this fucking administrator. Not that I think Liberty would even treat with someone like 'er in the first place. Most of the Houses see us as nothing more than vermin to be chased away from prospective planets or star systems. So why the hell would they bother to come down from their ivory towers to work out anything with 'er." Raguel looked up at the few Zoners who stopped to briefly listen to him. "You gotta ask yourself, why. Why does this here 'administrator' want to work with Liberty? What's in it for 'er? Sure as shit ain't meant to benefit us."
He slightly inclined his head to one side as if to question those who had stopped to listen to him speak.
"I hear some of you bitchin'. Saying that it's hard here." he looks around, fire and brimstone brewing in his gaze. "You dare to call yourself Zoners?! Our lives aren't meant to be easy you sniveling crybabies. We're pathfinders and wayward explorers. Many of us fly so far into the black we forget what civilization even looks like. We're homesteaders settling on planets with nothing but the equipment and stores in our ships and the clothes on our backs. So, when the going gets tough you just saddle right back up to those who murdered our families?!
A few Zoners looked down, ashamed. Others looked ready to riot then and there. Raguel looked back down at the floor.
"Seems to me, we're at a crossroads here. We can either let this yellowbellied bootlicker sell our souls to back Liberty in exchange for empty promises or work with the heroes of Operation Pesticide like Commander Ryzek and their kin to blacken the eye of Liberty and all those who take Zoner kindness for granted. One too many times we've been stepped on, kicked, and abused. It's time we show these politicians and warmongers what we're really made of. Not come back like some whipped mutt begging for scraps."
A few cheered. Others nodded their heads, their faces set in resolution and their confidence restored. He turned and walked away from the small gaggle of people who'd stopped to listen to his rant. Maybe he'd stirred up their hearts enough to turn the tide, but what he said about something needing to be done about this administrator was true. This would come to a boiling point on the station soon and he needed to ensure that his daughters death at the hands of the Liberty Imperialists wouldn't be for naught.
You fear oblivion. Yet you forget. The universe remembers every atom of your being. Even dust hums your name in the dark. Roleplay is dead. Long live Powertraders and PvP I guess.
(06-04-2025, 02:57 AM)Doc Holliday Wrote: Miss Tomoe,
it has been awhile. I am proud to say that I keep a home on Erie, legally bought and paid for. Erie is a Zoner planet and in the eyes of the Zoners here, it will always be. Liberty are the ones with the problem, not the Zoners.
The Liberty government will see Bethlehem as insignificant at least for the short term. The only way the Zoner population on Erie will be "forgiving" is if it is returned to the Zoner people under Zoner leadership.
Still, I am willing to get some dialogue going. Just keep in mind the words in which I spoke.
-Doc
Oh I don't disagree Doc, and you know well I'm more than willing to fight a house when left with no choice.
But Penn is in a bad location to have that fight.
We had it while I was away on my last survey run, and lost, badly.
The way I calculate it, our best hope is to get them to agree to a deal knowing full well they won't honor it long term, and then do what we Zoners do best:
Make friends.
Liberty corps, non liberty corps, whatever, we get trade flowing thru Bethlehem.
That's the language they really speak in Liberty, money.
We make leaving Bethlehem alone and honoring the deal something that their money approves of and it becomes much harder for them to break it.
Some of the transport crews that returned with my exploration flotilla have allready found elements of a few corporations we suspect could be convinced to work with us if we can get things going, but the first step is to get enough of a deal Bethlehem can expand without risk of Liberty seiging the new installations.
The other problem of course is our own more hot headed elements.
Their anger has cost them objectivity, and they cannot see that violence is not a tool that will serve us in this.
We have to fight smart, wits not lasers.
If each of us takes a hundred of them they won't notice, but we will still be dead.
And we can't do a damn thing for Erie without a good foothold in the system like Bethlehem.
-Tomoe
// OORP: I had more typed up and was close to hitting post, but my browser had an oopsie woopsie and ate it.
Part 2 with Tomoe responding to the end of the below decks meeting will hopefully be retyped later today.
Regrettably, dispatching our seasoned marines that far poses both logistical challenges and political risks; their presence could hand your detractors fresh ammunition. However, we maintain recruiting centers on Erie, where a growing number of Zoners, much like those already aboard your vessel, are rallying to our cause after growing weary of life under an oppressive government.
If you wish, I can arrange for mediators, Erie-born and sympathetic, to travel to Bethlehem Station and help defuse the situation.
In the meantime, I recommend severing non-essential communications with Liberty authorities; experience suggests they will either ignore your appeals or contact you only when they want something—if they don’t resort to Corsair-style coercion first.
//OORP: ok heres part 2. This is why you save longer posts as a draft regurally folks :p //
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Jonathan, thank you, and yes some mediators may help.
While the situation isnt that bad, it only takes one or two idiots starting a firefight in the wrong part of the station to cause disaster.
Besides, these are our people, better to be cautious and settle things amicably.
-Tomoe
As she finished responding to he mail, a small chime was heard from a comm link on her wrist, reading the notification she scowled.
'Well, so much for waiting for the mediators....'
Tomoe walked over to the wall to the left of her desk, opening the equipment locker.
Inside was various pieces of tech, sidearms, longarms, scientific implements, and body armor.
Tomoe unzipped her everpresent coveralls, putting on the sleek armored vest and arm wraps before zipping back up the coveralls.
Next she attached a holster, spare ammo, and a few other toys to the belt on her coveralls before donning a worn labcoat with the logo of the old Zoner Defence Force on the top left pocket, the additions to her belt now hidden yet accessable from years of practical experience.
As she left her office, her chief of security was outside nodding in silent greeting.
With them were a squad of Marines, wearing the blue and yellow shipsuits of Freeport 13 staff, with dark green armor plates on top.
Most of their armor was scuffed and worn, but clean and well maintained.
Some of the plates had clearly deflected shots before, some even bore odd patterns lightly melted into the surface... a discerning eye would recognize the telltale sign of alien directed energy weapons.
To any Zoner with real experience among the wider community, these were clearly veterans that had seen and survived combat.
"Whats the latest intel, chief" she asked
"Well ma'am, it appears some of the rabble rousers are intending to have a meeting belowdecks. It's probably nothing, but....."
"But you know I like to deal with problems headon"
"You do have a habit of giving us work, yes ma'am" he chuckled.
They moved out as a group, taking a service lift into the below decks, the squad dispersing in groups of twos and threes, the chief staying with Tomoe as she found a dark corner to stand in, a lifetime spent on ships and stations making her good at hiding on them.
She listened to the first fiery orator speak, actually nodding in agreement at parts, as he finished she waited.
'Theres always one more that doesnt quite agree on some smaller detail that has to speak up'
Sure enough a second more radical sounding one spoke up.
As he finished, Tomoe clicked her comm twice in a subtle heads up, and strode foward.
The dispersed marine squad, hidden under an assortment of older worn cloaks, moving to corners and awaiting a need to act.
"Your right, it IS time we show those politicians what we're made of.
The problem is the military situation for Bethlehm can be summed up with three words:
We are fucked.
If Liberty wants this station gone, it's gone.
So far they've been happy to ignore us.
The station is too well defended and has too many civilians to be worth the cost and publicity to deal with.
But that wont stop those snakes forever.
And thats precisely why I made the attempt to open diplomatic channels.
Not because I expect them to honor any deal, at least not for long, but because it's better to play that game than start shooting around the station.
And if we do get them playing that game, well, we're Zoners.
We have stations all over, and usually can more or less get along with about anyone.
We get them to 'give' minor concessions, and we use those as weapons to defend the station.
This place isn't getting any less crowded, we need to expand and move some of our small industry to other stations so they can expand.
If we can expand the economic footprint of Bethlehem, we can get trade flowing, be it with other houses or one of Libertys less odious corperations.
We do that, and keep the station out of the fighting like it's been doing for years before I took over, and the station stays not worth attacking.
You say many of us fly so far into the black we forget what civilization even looks like ?
Well I resemble that statement, I grew up on Freeport Seven, and left with my parents on a seven year exploration mission right before it went up.
I can count how many times I've been on a planets surface and have fingers left over, I know our way of life because I've lived it.
I've fought houses before, and won, but the problem is Bethlehem isnt a fight that we can win in a heads up fight.
We've got to be smarter than that.
We cant help Erie if we're dead, in LPI camps, or chased out of the system entirely."
"And as for you" Tomoe turned and pointed towards the first speaker "You aint wrong about them being snakes and not partners"
"But the problem is that Bethlehem is full of families. This isnt a military base hardened for a seige. Sure the station itself could put up a great fight... but telling children being sucked out of a hull breach it's ok because they put up a fight seems like a foolish way to go about it.
Better to play the hand we were dealt, and keep people alive.
Im not saying dont do stuff, just dont do it from here.
Besides, the more headaches Liberty has to deal with that are not directly tied to Bethlehem, the more likely they are to ignore us here.
Our fighting eachother can only help Liberty.
Only together can we actually pull anything off.
That's what broke up the old Zoner Defence Force, other than my exploratory corps each branch of it was really just the escort ships of one of the larger factions, and the second they didnt agree on something they just fucked off and did their own thing.
Sure some of them went on to form Phoenix, but that was closing the airlock after you stepped out naked.
To be clear, if you want to fight liberty I applaud you for it.
Just dont do it here.
You dont shit where you eat, you dont start ship to ship combat where your peoples kids live."
"You got devils in the distance watchin' you sleep, and they're runnin' around with the friends you keep."
It wasn't the first time Max had played errand boy for the denizens of Freeport 10. It's not like he was an administrator, or really a leader of any kind. Those people were mistaking his disconnected and distant attitude for strength. Well, at least the paperwork gave him something to do, and it was easier than just waiting around to die.
This case was a little bit of something interesting, though. The refugees from Omicron Alpha had petitioned him specifically, setting aside some Ablative Armor Plating and giving up their own weaponry to put together a full crate of Daumann Side Arms. They had told him it was "to get some safety to family in Bethlehem", and given what had happened in Pennsylvania, he was inclined to believe.
Setting his Starblazer down in Hangar 4, he motioned over one of the quartermaster's aides. Max was a rat of a man. An oily-haired Hispanian, with body armor draped in torn cloth and some kind of hefty animal pelt, probably a warcrime against Gaians. A veritable hand-cannon hung from his hip. Hand carved jade talismans dangled from various parts of his armor, fashioned after different animals, mostly snakes and birds with the occasional dragon. He somehow looked less trustworthy than a Junker. He almost looked out of place.
Almost.
"Shipment addressed to Christoph Redburn?"The man put his data pad away and motioned to a group, who rapidly offloaded his cargo. The aide didn't note it in the datapad. Didn't ask him for a signature. Didn't even confirm that Cristoph Redburn was there."You'll make sure these get to Mr. Redburn, right?"
The man stared blankly at him for about half a second, before putting on his customer service smile and responding "Yeah, yeah we'll get these to Christoph."
The hesitation was just a confirmation. He'd seen the looks of killers and rebels before. There were plenty of mirrors on Freeport 10. There probably wasn't even a Christoph Redburn."Hey!", he called after them. That same aide turned around to look at him."You guys organized?"The question stopped him and the few near him in their tracks, and customer service smiles turned to glares of warning."Relax. Just give your boss a message. From... uh... "The Paper Pusher of Freeport 10." I'll owe you one, alright?"They didn't use their newly acquired weaponry on him, so he figured he was free enough to speak.
He flipped a coin to the aide. It was hand-carved from jade, with the relief of an eagle on one side, and a two-headed snake on the other. The man caught it, looking at it quizzically. It was clearly a calling card of some kind.
"You tell your boss that plenty of people make deals with the devil."Max pulls out a single alien artifact. It quietly screamed and groaned with tortured voices barely audible to Max and even less so to the men only a few meters away from him. Here on Bethlehem, voices of anger and unrest joined in the chorus, promising vengeance and damnation."But when you make a deal with the devil, you're going to end up paying the devil's price, yeah? Lotta families on this station. Remember what you're fighting for."
Putting his artifact away, he walks back to his ship, leaving the group who'd been left behind after their comrades had hauled off the delivery. The men eventually walked off, watching Max carefully as they went. And they were right to be suspicious of his relaxed pose. Tucked in his hand, hidden from their sight, he had a laser pointer aimed at a security camera. He flashed a pattern into the camera.-. .. -.-. . / .--- --- -... / .-.. --- .-..
Then he got back into his ship, and prepared for takeoff. This ain't his circus, and those weren't his monkeys.
He would be giving his monkeys an earful when he got back to Freeport 10, though.
I'll do something about my superiority complex when I cease to be superior.
"Whatever happened to catchin' a good old-fashioned passionate ass-whoopin and gettin' your shoes, coat, and your hat tooken?"
"A damn shame that a bootlicker is in charge of Bethlehem now." Raguel said with a sigh. "Seems to me, someone needs to set you straight, administrator. From my vantage point, it seems as if you weren't here when the actual shit hit the fan out there in open space, so let me paint a picture for you. Liberty came in droves, darkened our skies and killed our children. They burned our farms and raped our wives. Yet you stand here with some holier than thou speech about we can't help Erie if we're dead. We can't help Erie if we're slaves beholden to our masters either."
He snarls. His face contorting in rage. The wizened man was gone, the savage Raguel now stood in his place.
"You want to be a fuckin' traitor to your people, then I say you do so off of Bethlehem. Because if you keep spoutin' those words 'bout workin' with any part of them butchers, it might be me that stands over your corpse as it cools or any one of those here who want Liberty's boot off our necks. I lost my daughter on the surface of that world and I will see Liberty pay in blood until the day I leave this mortal plane. Choose your words wisely 'administrator'. The next ones might be your last. I expect many others here feel much the same way."
His hand reached for the canon on his hip but hesitated. Instead he let his arm drop loosely at his side. He wasn't about to die here because of this bitch.
"Watch your back, administrator. I'd hate to see that pretty face of yours all bloodied up." the man spun on his heel and departed the area. The Zoners who had stood behind him parted as he passed. A few nodding in agreement with his final parting words.
"Cowards, the lot of them. It's time I got the Lady Luck into action and took care of some of these fucking imperialists. The PLF will take care of that administrator before long. I'm sure of it."
He headed towards the mooring platforms and grabbed a random cargo loader. Pushing it to the airlock where the Lady Luck was moored, he retrieved a few cargo boxes and placed them in the cargo loading bay.
"May as well leave these party favors behind. Maybe them PLF boys can use em."
After he was finished, he left the cargo loader where he got it and walked into the Lady Luck. Before the doors to the airlock closed he glared back towards whence he had come. Moments later, the mooring clamps released the Conference Gunboat and it engaged it's cruise engines, heading out into the black in order to give Liberty a bad day.
You fear oblivion. Yet you forget. The universe remembers every atom of your being. Even dust hums your name in the dark. Roleplay is dead. Long live Powertraders and PvP I guess.
![[Image: 1AaKhDa.png]](https://i.imgur.com/1AaKhDa.png)
![[Image: quQHTmO.png]](https://i.imgur.com/quQHTmO.png)
![[Image: 7Md2x4D.png]](https://i.imgur.com/7Md2x4D.png)
![[Image: qNksAlY.png]](https://imgur.com/qNksAlY.png)
![[Image: TrbARey.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/TrbARey.gif)
![[Image: MamQqku.png]](https://imgur.com/MamQqku.png)