[IC] TEST POST

[dendarii]

[ Miles Vorkosigan cuts an unusual figure even under the most extraordinary circumstances: tiny and somewhat hunchbacked, his curved spine obvious even beneath his custom-cut Imperial Security green military uniform. Unless you're bitty like him (and he's met few adults below his height of 4'8"), he likely comes up to your shoulder or a little lower.

There is, however, a manic energy to the man that makes him fill up more than his physical space. Sharp, penetrating gray eyes take in the world around him as great refreshing gulps of information. Depending on the situation, he may be taking in you as well. ]

A - Canon

[ In his case, you suddenly find yourself in an empty and rather old-fashioned looking house. Old-fashioned except for the high tech consoles installed in various areas, anyway, and if one looks out the window a relatively sci-fi-esque view can be seen interspersed with vaguely Russian architecture. Miles looks up, startled by your sudden appearance. ]

I'm sorry, have we met?

[ In other words, how the hell did you just waltz into the Vorkosoigan House without him being alerted by the guards? Visiting his father or mother, maybe? That's the only thing coming to mind. ]

B - Mask or Menace

[ Staring, Miles can deal with. It's depressingly normal and almost comforting, given the circumstances. But having people approach him like some kind of celebrity is damned unsettling. It feels like some awful combination of being both Lord Vorkosigan and Admiral Naismith at the same time ... which is technically true, but he's not enough at ease with himself to cross those wires just yet.

Speaking of which. He fixes a brilliant smile on his face as his confident swagger threatens to knock over anyone within a five meter radius of him. The space operatic Admiral Naismith persona in full force and practically spilling over. After all, when faced with a wall, Miles tends to charge right the hell on through. First obstacle to be defeated: finding out what the hell is going on and why his head is feeling strangely full all of a sudden.

He's about twenty or so, though with a face like his he could be anywhere between early twenties and early thirties. The tell-tale import barcode flickers at his wrist; he hasn't quite realized what that means for himself or anyone else. In a remarkably flat, pseudo-American accent: ]

You know, I think I've gotten myself lost. Any chance you're more familiar with this place?

[ Heropa is where he's come out first, but by now he could be in any of the Porter cities. ]

Comments

[scienceping]

[ The only reaction to his surprise is a slightly raised pointed eyebrow, but otherwise there's still no emotion in his face. ]

The number of planets is actually greater in number as the political use of the term "world" encompasses those systems or races that have migrated, colonized, or developed on numerous planets. The current planetary count is approximately two hundred and twenty. As to the government of the Federation, any world who joins the Federation agreed to exist semi-autonomously under a single central government based on the principles of universal liberty, rights, and equality, and to share their knowledge and resources in peaceful cooperation, scientific development, space exploration and defensive purposes.

[dendarii]

[ Two hundred and twenty planets. A hundred systems. Miles feels his eyes crossing just thinking about it. ]

I - I'd hope that you've got decent rules if you're that huge - but I'm thinking on a more practical level. How do you even get messages back and forth?

[scienceping]

[ Ah, so that's what he meant. The eyebrow relaxes again. ]

My apologies for misunderstanding. Subspace communication is the primary form of electromagnetic communication used throughout the Federation. By transmission through subspace rather than normal space, subspace communication permits the sending of data and messages across interstellar distances faster than the speed of light.

[dendarii]

Subspace communication.

... We definitely don't have that.

[scienceping]

[ Spock tilts his head less than an inch to one side, kind of like cocking his head in question; the first sign of any sort of normal human non-verbal communication. ]

May I inquire the methods used by the Dendarii Free Mercenary Fleet?

[dendarii]

[ That's strange too. Miles quells the sudden urge to work a kink out of his own neck. ]

Tightbeam transmission. Broadcasts at the speed of light. The very fastest way to get a message to another planet is to beam to a courier ship, have it physically jump through a wormhole, and then beam to the next courier on the route.

[scienceping]

[ He keeps that tilted angle while he considers Miles explanation, eyes darting just to the side for all of above one and a half seconds before replying. ]

The reliance of having to physically carry data through a wormhole aside, the beam would then also be suspect to degradation depending on the distance to another ship, would it not?

[dendarii]

Yes, both of those things. For that reason most civilian mail is physical data disks or hard drives with information on them. But for battles, well ... You need to move a little faster.

[scienceping]

As the name of your fleet may imply, do you often see battle, Admiral?

[dendarii]

Very frequently. Part of being a mercenary fleer - we seek that kind of thing out.

What about you?

[scienceping]

While the Federation is often described as a "peacekeeping and humanitarian armada," it is not uncommon to enter into conflict with other, more belligerent powers when expanding through the admittance of more and more worlds and through exploration. The starship on which I serve frequently engages in both diplomatic and offensive service.

[dendarii]

... Interesting . Very interesting. Wish I could see...

[scienceping]

[ Spock tilts his head again, a little deeper angle this time with his eyebrows furrowed just ever so slightly. Curious ... ]

Does your reality not have anything similar, Admiral?

[dendarii]

[ Now he really feels that crick in his neck. Damn. ]

No, I suppose all governmental armadas fulfill a similar purpose. But I suspect my mercenary fleet's scale is a little bit smaller.

[scienceping]

You did appear surprised when I spoke of the number of official member worlds of the Federation ...

[dendarii]

Very. In terms of solar systems and not planets, I'd say we have ... thirty-five, perhaps? Forty at the absolute most?

[scienceping]

And I also gather that you have not yet encountered other species.

[dendarii]

[ A faintly guilty look. ]

Was I that obvious?

[scienceping]

You did appear particularly surprised.

[dendarii]

Sorry. You're the first I've ever seen. Not that I of all people should be staring.

... May I ask what species you are?

[scienceping]

I am a Vulcan.

[dendarii]

[ Hmmm. Now he tilts his head, looking up at Spock with bright curiosity behind his eyes. ]

I see the ears and the eyebrows ... Different blood base, maybe?

[scienceping]

Affirmative, Vulcan hemoglobin contains copper-based metalloproteins as opposed to Human and other known species in my reality.

[ Spock doesn't seem to mind the open staring, at least. And he still shows no contempt or any kind of ego flare at having to look down at Miles eithe. ]

[dendarii]

[ That's refreshing. Damned refreshing. Miles decides that he rather likes this Spock fellow. ]

Hence the greenish color, eh? What about internal organs? All roughly in the same place or different?

[scienceping]

[ He's already used to Tellarite heights, okay.]

That is where our physical similarity ends. While Vulcans possess a majority of organs that perform similar functions to those of Humans, approximately 38. 4% of Vulcan organs and location of said organs differ from that of Humans. Most notable is the placement of our heart muscular organ; it is not located in the center of the chest.