~Lunysvet, Cindorayi Empire, Nova Mondial~
The night of December 31st, 2056

Mairead moved quickly down the dimly lit street, dragging her 5-year old son by his tentacular hand. The Cindorayi patrols were very frequent in the capital city, and while she had a pass that indicated she was a free Aldabetuse citizen, she hated getting questioned about her destination and business as they would often do. It was especially severe now that they had issued a curfew declaration.

“Mother, what are those lights in the sky?”

Mairead quickly looked up, and saw some bright flashes from different points all across the sky. She narrowed her eyes. “Nothing, Iain, just come along. It’s probably some weird test they’re doing up in space.”

“Test? What are they testing, mother?”

“I don’t know. Come on, we have to get home before we get spotted, or we’ll be out here half the night, what with the curfew in-“

A bright flash illuminated the night for a moment, like a second sun, just as they arrived at their doorway. The purple and yellow banner hanging from the nearby lamppost seemed to wave in a slight breeze, but they felt nothing.

Mairead quickly pushed her son in despite his outburst of questions, and looked out one last time with the faintest smile of hope, as she had heard what was going on. And she knew what that flash meant, that the spark of revolution had come.

~Mondial Orbital Command, LMO (Low Mondial Orbit)~

“Move it! To your corvettes, stat!” The voice of the Flotilla-Admiral resounded through the halls of Orbital Command. People were running back and forth along the narrow halls of the station, nearly running into one another, as would be expected in a crowded station with over 100 occupants at any given time. “The longer you take, the more we’re sitting ducks! No time for protocol or briefing, I want you all undocked now!”

Emsky quickly made his way to the dock section. He saw a messenger flying his way, and quickly flattened himself against the wall and grabbed the handholds to stay there as she flew past. He resumed his journey, making it to the docking port. A laser flashed outside the window, and the station shuddered. Clearly there was some serious shit going on.

“Corvette-captain Emsky, serial number 013 Cindorayi Space Force, undocking!” His dear Lunya undocked and sped backward away from the station just in time to avoid a laser beam arcing past. He heard the resounding cries of his comrades through his headset.

“Listen up and listen well,” spoke the Flotilla-Admiral with an air of menace. “The damn fucking Colonials have hacked into our defense network and set it to engage us. They have to have someone on the inside of the Space Force down on Nova Mondial. They’ve only got the older models, the newer ones had updated electronic warfare protocols. You are to target and destroy the older satellites, understand?”

“Yes, sir! Pravilo nasha sudba!” came the chorus from both Emsky’s mouth and the speaker. He engaged his plasma thrusters, and shot off towards the given coordinates for his first target.

“Heya, Emsky, this is some kind of mess, ain’t it?” His wingman, Yashkin, glided up alongside him and spoke on their private channel. “Some heads are gonna roll back home. I sure hope ours don’t too.”

“Don’t need this kind of talk right now, Yasha!” Emsky was carefully monitoring the approaching satellite, and when he saw it powering up-

Emsky’s corvette narrowly avoided the laser’s arc. “And, firing!” Yashkin’s railgun lit up in the blackness of space, and the laser blew up into a mess of fragments which floated every which direction.

“Good job, Yasha, next one.” The two glided onward.

The Flotilla-Admiral’s voice sounded through the speaker again. “Just six left, good work, all of you. We’ll get them back for this.”

The two fellow captains approached one of the last satellites. “These new corvettes really make this a piece of cake,” Yashkin opined. “They can’t hit us for shit with our maneuverability.”

Emsky concentrated on the approaching satellite. “What…” left his mouth as a missile fired away from the satellite towards Yashkin. Emsky’s lasers lit up and converged, and the satellite fried.

Yashkin narrowly avoided the missile. “Shit, that was close. What the hell are they doing, firing nukes at these little ships?

Emsky’s eyes filled with rage. “That wasn’t targeted at you, but you should have taken it anyway. Better that than…”

Yashkin opened his mouth. “You don’t mean the goddamn colonials would-“ He was interrupted by a blinding flash of light that came from behind them.

Emsky punched the comm button. “Flotilla-Admiral! Flotilla-Admiral!” Nothing but harsh static emanated from the speakers. “They’re gone…” Emsky looked ready to tear someone’s head off. Other voices in confusion started speaking on the command frequency, but there was no reply.

Through the static, a faint female voice emerged. “All Lunya corv…e-captains, repor… in!” Emsky adjusted the tuning to try to accommodate for the radiation. “This is Cindorayi Ground Command, can anyone hear me?”

“Emsky, number 013 here.” He was the first to respond.

“We’ve lost contact with Orbital Command, Emsky. Can you confirm its status?”

Emsky’s corvette slowly turned to reveal an empty patch of space, with nothing but minute debris remaining where there should have been a huge spinning ring station. “It’s gone, Ground Command. I regret to inform you that… it’s gone. They’re all dead.”

A quiet emerged, as all the fellow captains and the comms officer digested the information they had just received. A few moments later, something like thirteen different cries of exclamation resounded through the cabin.

“Everyone, be quiet!” The comms officer at Ground Command cut in. “I know this is an unfortunate situation, but we need to quickly work out replacement docking procedures before we do anything else or you’re all going to run out of air. Numbers 001 and 002, report to the Kalashnik Research Station for docking. Numbers 003 and…”

Emsky sat back, his ears tuning out everything that followed. The face of his wife floated through his mind. He could still see her slight nervous wave the first time they met. He remembered how excited she was when she learned she would be a navigational officer at Orbital Command, how she excitedly poked him and said they would be working on the same station so they could see each other all the time. He remembered… The tears started to flow.

“Numbers 024 and 025, you’re to report to the Rafinids’ Maahir Research Station. That is all for now. Ground Command will arrange for your retrieval and resupply.” The woman’s voice shook with emotion as well near the end, and then the speaker fell silent. Embry reached for his throttle, and then with a pause, pushed it forward.

January 2057
Union of Kor
Capital City
The capital city of the Union of Kor was built into the tundra where its towering walls dominated the horizon. City was shaped like a hexagon and streets were constructed in grid format. It was the most heavily defended city in the Union of Kor with anti-air defenses on roofs of almost every building and no building above six stories except the grand palace. In streets workers were cleaning up debris from celebration of the new year. The garbage from celebration was being just dumped outside city walls directly into slums that surrounded the city. Poor tari of the working caste were waiting for dumpings of garbage to strip for anything of use.

High King Van'Kor Ol sits in office as advisers go over reports. For the most part it is reports on food production, and trade. The years of peace after Void War had resulted in a surge of population numbers higher then expected with no internal conflicts to cull the excess population. Such a bother to have inherited from previous High King who died near end of Void War. A buzzer would ring on the High King desk and he waved away the advisers. After the advisers had left a very old male tari would wheel in, he a flat face had a breathing apparatus attached to his face.
Van'kor "It is good to see you Gol, I hope you have some good news?"
Gol "Depends... the... chitanite farm holders have agreed... to increase exports."
Van'kor "Good, the Union of Kor could use the increased trade. Though what is the bad news?"
Gol "The... export amount... increase is only seven... tons..."
Van'kor "Ancestors spit on them. Chitanite is our main export.... It will have to do, you are dismissed."
Gol would press a few buttons on chair wheeling himself out. Once alone High King Van'Kor would open a drawer on desk taking out a bottle and poured himself a small glass. The High King would then take glass to look outside window of palace. The High King was only one of a handful with a view outside walls of Capital City, but his was the best. Royal Palace of High Kings was simple yet efficient, a rectangle reinforced with clearly visible chitanite as a symbol of strength.
Van'kor: "Damn those farmers, they refuse to increase exports to acceptable numbers. Last thing I need though is to stir up internal conflicts like High Kings of the past."

Orbital Station Kor-1
Aboard the metal coffin of a station were two tari scientists relaxing after celebrations for the new year. Chief Scientist Yor and Assistant Scientist Grik. The Kor-1 had no windows, the only way for the two aboard to see outside were to put on eva suit or use cameras positioned around outside the ship. Inside the station was a bit of a mess with a empty bottle floating through air along with various tools.
Yor "Do the reports... my head is killing me."
Grik "Fine but you were one to not secure instruments."
Yor "I did not expect to get head hit by a wrench. Anything on the censors?"
Grik "Nothing... well we got readings from something but probably nothing but a anomaly."
Yor "Let those on ground deal with the data. Get on with experiment."
Grik "When the next inspection of outside must be done your going on EVA."
Yor *grumbles*
Grik would open a hatch to go into lab area of the station. The goal of the Kor-1 was to test the affects of zero gravity on chitanite. For almost a year now the two scientists had been carefully monitoring chitanite to see if space affected it at all. A rather boring task but the Union of Kor wanted to prove chitanite was just as good as steel in space. Both scientists found this research to be mostly a waste as the main use of chitanite was in medical field.

The dew sparkled on the sand as the early morning sun rose. As its rays brushed the vast world the bushes and scraggly grasses that grew from the harsh red soil seemed to sigh and shack softly as a warming breeze of morning's dawning stretched out its hand to gently brush away the quilt of night. It was bitterly cold at night, beyond that many would imagine in the Bush Country, far removed from the farm fields, vineyards, and condominiums of the coast. Standing erect facing a small pocket mirror laid up in the elbow of a spiny tree a man in a light undershirt stood with a towel thrown haphazardly across his shoulders. A layer of lather covered his chin and mouth as he scrapped a razor across his broad chin and wide, round cheeks.

Shaving clean his face, he did not pay close attention to the figure behind him fast at work gathering up the campsite, tossing loose debris and the last night's effects into a heavy green satchel. His heavy hunched back rose and fell and swayed side to side as the creature went about his work, tossing tin plates, spoons, and bottles into the heavy canvas sack. He reached out with long arms, finished by a hand of four long sharp fingers. Under a heavy denim coat the entire creature was dressed in mottled mangy fur, that thinned out in spots to reveal the naked, discolored skin underneath. The beast had a face like a mongoose, or a raccoon, but splotchy with uneven fur heaviest at the top of its head.

“Baro Daro, have we got word back from Tracks?” the man asked in a heavy gentile voice.

“Ah? Oh, nah mate. He's been a coupeh' hours now I reckon.” the mongoose creature answered back, making a short jump to the side, his pawed feet scraping at the loose soil as he hoisted up onto his back the sack and walked with a limping gait over to a nearby four-by-four. Tossing the sack into the back he sauntered back to the camp, “But iffin' I were to guess, I'd say the cunt might've found a good trail and is following it as far as he can before comin' back.”

“I would have liked if he came back to tell us he found something.” the man sighed, scraping his chin clean and whipping the lather off on his towel. He turned to face Baro Daro and headed for his tent, “Never the less I want to be ready to head out in half an hour, him or not. We'll continue along the tracks we found last night. He'll catch up.”

“And I'll say again, he'll be back.” Baro Daro said, looking up at the human as he rolled up his sleep bag. The man shrugged indifferently and began methodically working on his tent. Without a reply, Baro Daro shook his head and muttered some manner of curse.

As all the tents were gathered up, and loaded onto the vehicle a lanky figure rose over the nearby rise. The sun was in full rise now and the diamond sparkle of dew on the leaves and on the sand had fully evaporated away in a single last cool breath. The morning was beginning to heat up as another bipedal creature with a canine, dingo's head with the same patchy, mangy hair pattern.

“Blimey, why don't you look at that.” the man said, leaning against the car.

Bounding down the hillside, Tracks made his way to the encampment as it was closing up for the day. “You cunts ain'ta 'bouda leave me now, ain'tcha?” he snarled, snarling as he licked his lips. His mouth was missing a few teeth, and most of the others were turning yellow. Up close, a noticeable dusting of sand could be seen in his hair.

“Bouda' fuckin' leave me I bet. Well won't you be happy when I steal ya bottles, mate. That'l lbe the truth, swear it on me own.”

The man rolled his eyes leaned off the side of the car. “So what did you find?” he asked.

“Ain't the bleedin' ticker tacks ya were followin', can tell you as much. Followed 'em down to a 'bubbleh 'bout two miles down. Issa killin' field, corpse is fresh but ain't our kuey bird. Nah mate, ta'in't that. Muey adeh bird, musta been picked off by sum dingahs couple days ago. Is a dead end there, mate.

“Nah, other trail go out for longeh', all fresh signs long the way. Bird went that way sumut. Followed ticker tacks fer some, oh ah- bleedin' ten miles wortha that cunts legs. Sure as Hell I did. Went about as near-asa big rock sticker, 'bout as crook as Barbo's back.”

“Oy!” Baro Daro protested, stulking up behind Tracker. He straightened himself up, showing off how he wasn't all hobbled spin and crooked posture. Up straight he stood fully a foot over the man and the dingo-man. As he did his denim shirt pulled up from Daro Baro's ragged jeans revealing a sunken torso, thinly covered in patches of white fur.

“And as I gabber ever time ya go an do that: and all th' good that whip of yous that does for you, cunt. Gonna snap yourself inna tree. Fuck off back down here.”

Satisified with his rebuttal, Baro Daro returned to earth. Bringing down his shoulders and arms until his knuckles brushed the red earth at his feet. “Right, so tracker: you know where it goes. Jump on the hood and point me that way.”

“For fucks-sakes Roger Weetherby, yer a bigger fuckin' cunt than I ever worked with. Can I tucker in some snooze least? I'vva been ploddin' 'bout all dark hours.”

“You want those bottles, or not? As soon as you get me on the path I'll let you sleep.”

“Cunting right ya will.” the dingo-man snarled, climbing onto the hood. Roger followed, taking the driver's seat and Daro perched himself like a sentry in the back among the gear. Starting the engine the four-by-four hummed itself to life before the engine silenced into its cool, quiet idle state. With only the pop of gravel and rocks to signify it was moving forward, it turned, and headed down the trail Tracker indicated.

After some two minutes, Roger felt he was well enough on the right path and called Tracker back in. Scratching and scrabbling over the metal hood and glass windshield he crawled inside where he half sat, and half curled on the front seat and laid his head on the dashboard to shut his eyes, using his sinewy arms as a buffer the jostling of the offroader and his head.

The Bush lands were a wild place to be. While much of it was flat, defined only by ancient sand dunes that in time settled into permanent hills when captured by the land's thorny brush, or even still moving dunes of red sand. Though, this made travel none the easier, nor direct. Having to keep a constant mind on where what went where Roger found himself scaling dunes, and having to find away around precarious drop offs. Fresh sand blown in from further inland by winter winds would collect in the open field, smothering bushes and trees and threatening to trap the off-roader in their gnarled, iron-strong boughs and branches. Everything had to be treated with suspicion. Never mind the potential danger in walking ill-equipped in some areas.

After roughly an hour a crooked shaft of black rock appeared over the horizon and they made their way. Noticing it Baro Daro punched Tracker in the back, waking him up as they made their approach. “Ay, this place maybe. We pick up here.” he said, speech slurred by sleep.

“How fresh were the tracks?” asked Roger.

“Oh, guess summa' guess eigh' hours.” he grumbled, “When-I found 'em.”

“Alright.”

They pulled up into the shade of the rock, and hopped out of the car. Tracker went immediately to the work, walking with long jaunty steps around the rocks, searching for a fresh trail. Roger and Baro Daro stayed behind, waiting. Wandering off to investigate something Baro Daro called back. “We hav'eha problem!”

Roger turned to him, he was already squatting down over something. He walked over to see what's up, only to see what Baro Daro had his eyes on. With the tips of his index and middle finger resting next to a set of canine tracks he pointed it out.

“We got bloody dogs!” shouted Roger.

“Pah, cunt.” Tracker spat, “Found the ticker tacks, and theys too.”

“Did you see them before when you were here?” Roger asked, walking to the car.

“No, themsa must'of come in. Taking th' same ticker tacks as we's.”

Roger grumbled as he sifted through the gear, finally digging out a large, long black box. Resting it on the edge of the bad, he popped the hatches and threw back the lid. A pair of black carbon fiber rifles, the moving parts trimmed in a white silver. He took one and loaded it, Baro Daro followed before Tracker could get to them.

“Oy, fuckin'.” Tracker swore.

“Got'sa revolver in me bag.” Baro Daro told him.

“No time for that.” Roget interjected, “I need Tracker on the trail.”

“Takin' the rove?” Tracker asked, just shy of starting his search.

“I don't know where it's going. We're going on foot.”

Tracker again swore, and Baro Daro sneered. But together the two followed after Roger. Tracker quickly assumed the lead, and began leading them over a long course away from the rock. One two and a half, or three and a half limbs Tracker moved quick through the brush, stopping only to move aside thick brush in search of snapped twigs, or prints hidden in the sand underneath. Then tacking off again in a sudden bolt, or switching directions.

Roger, who held his rifle to his chest jogged after. His breath coming in short deep gasps as he bounded along. The day was growing hotter, and the race after the creature ahead of them was beginning to draw sweat. Baro Daro followed close behind, his rifle slung over his shoulder producing an audible rattle as it hit his side at each step.

It was an hour and a half of pursuit that ended at the edge of an embankment at the side of a muddy oasis. In its middle, standing in its ankle in shallow water a dull gray and yellow bird, with a dinosaur of a face and small beady black eyes stood drinking, occasionally scratching nervously in the water. “There she is, so where are the dogs?” Roger asked.

“Split'er some fourth-one mile way.” Tracker said, “Thinkin' they found 'ar, but are waitin'.”

Roger straightened up and looked around. The bird didn't seem particularly troubled by them. They were far from hidden. Throwing the strap of the rifle over his shoulders he crouched and slid down the sandy embankment. The sudden sound caused the bird to jump and opening its dwarfed wings quibbled nervously at the approach. It started to back up as if to flee, but stopped hesitantly as Roger stood to its eye-level. It chirped and squawked confused as he walked forward with a hand out. His other reached behind him to a pocket where he kept a small metal lasso rolled and ready.

Tracker had snuck around behind the bird, and as Roger was keeping its attention took up a position to cover its rear. Baro Daro, being armed kept an eye out on the ridge. It was a tense tentative minute of silence as Roger made his approach, and wrapping his fingers around the loose end of the lasso pulled it from his pocket.

There was a crack in the bush somewhere off to the side that drew the bird's attention and it looked that way. As its attention broke the lasso was thrown up over its neck and as it began to race away was pulled to a sudden stop as the wire drew tight around the base of its neck. Roger, with his feet planted in the mud was able to anchor himself and force the giant bird to be thrown to the ground, where it fell with a splash in the mud and began kicking furiously to rise back up.

At that moment a rifle shot echoed in the air and there was the hurt cry of a dog as others nearby began to bark widely in protest and fear. Roger frantically wrapped the thick lasso wire around his hand as he drew the rifle and scanned the bush line. A few brownish, yellow-orange dingos had broken from the bush and began to pace nervously as one lay bleeding out to Baro Daro's left. Roger squeeze over a series of five quick shots in the direction of the dogs to scare them off, hitting one in the shoulder before it could turn to run. The canine collapsed to the muddy red earth kicking, blood splattering its matted fur as it came to rest.

As the pack ran back into the bush, a sensation of danger avoided hung over the three's heads. “Cor, fucking hell.” Roger exclaimed.

“Woulda warned'cha but the bloody cunts just sorta popped.” Baro Daro said in a laughing voice.

“We earned those bottles?” Tracker asked.

“I think you did, let's head back and get this bird back with the flock.”

January 1, 2057
The Dominion of Isalka
District 3, Sublayer 5

"To the Dominion, and to the Supreme Commander!"

The Wojteki soldiers cheered, raising a glass of wojva and downing it, before each of them grabbed a pitcher to refill their cups. The domed park area, with rugs on the floor and steel beams holding it up, was one of the many public holding grounds throughout the Dominion's underground complex that celebrated the occasion. Torches of active Dobrevirite lit the area, shining around the otherwise darkened, massive room. Tables of soldiers chatted about the upcoming prospects of promotions, deployments, and housing. No shortage of any of these. A few of the male soldiers discussed who they would settle in with, while the females kept to their own tables, talking about the same.

"To Mierzy, to Jadga, and to Bogdi. Rest their souls!"

Another collective gulp was downed and refilled. Those were just three names who were killed in action over the year, defending the numerous mining sites across the ice cap. One fell to wrestling a large wolf, while the other two were shot dead defending a group of Pova on patrol from traitorous Rovers. The animals were something to expect, thanks to their satellite in the sky, affectionately named Sati by the troops; the Rovers were more difficult, for reasons they had yet to discover. Cloaking technology? A satellite to match their own? It was still out there, but the attacks were not frequent. Merely a hindrance.

Two of the Wojteki suddenly stood up from their seats, a male and a female, and latched onto each other. As the rest of the crowd watched, they tussled to and fro, neither of them losing their balance until the female had stepped forward and lifted the male, tossing him onto the ground. A short applause filled the room, as they bowed to each other in respect. To signify this further, he lifted her arm up, designating her the victor.

All was peaceful, underneath Isalka.

District 15, Sublayer 10, Command Room

The General Staff sat in their longchairs, facing a television that had yet to turn on. The room was metallic in design, as was most of the underground, decorated with various posters, medals, and plaques highlighting previous Gentafers and Supreme Commanders. Dobryski took the time to light a cigar with a small shard of Dobrevirite, dragging his nail against it to turn it active, then drawing the flame up and then snuffing it out with a thumb. Of all the Gentafers in the room, he was the youngest, at sixty. He had been honored for his efforts in rescuing a science team from a band of Rovers, while he was a Captensk. It was just him that day, gunning down the rebels that were half his age, returning with a truck full of unconscious scientists as he patched up his own bullet wounds across his chest. A regular Wojteki would have an extended stay with injuries like that, but Dobryski was back in action a week afterwards.

Around him were fourteen other Gentafers, representing each district of the Dominion. Some chatted with their comrades, few read or smoked as he did, while waiting for the Supreme Commander. The television suddenly switched on, and the grey-furred, elderly Szachslaszi came on. As many of them knew, the leader of their nation was well past his death date, yet he continued to survive. All Wojteki stood, curling their hands into fists, and pressing them against their hearts. "Hail, Supreme Commander!" They said in unison, dropping back into their seats once he had nodded.

"As you all well know..." Szachslaszi started up, slurring his s's and elongating his l's. "I am dying. Our scientists have estimated I will pass in the next five months. For that matter..." He rose his head, one of his eyes carrying a dull, grey sheen while the other bore a faded red in his iris. "I will select my successor, soon." Slowly, his hand raised over his chest, staring blankly at the other side of his screen. "Naszvidanya, my soldiers." The television abruptly shut off, as they were halfway through repeating, "Naszvidanya." Dobryski stopped himself, unlike the rest of them. He had his opportunity. He could become the next Supreme Commander. He had competition, yes, but he needed some way to reach the top of the list.

As he stepped out of the conference room, the rest of the Gentafers following him, one of them bumped him on the shoulder. "Oi, Dobryski, you're going to join us for some drinks, yes?" Bolroff. One of his oldest friends, once part of the same district. Dobryski merely shrugged, taking a breath from his cigar and then letting it out, waving the smoke away. "You always were a man of few words." Bolroff chuckled, stepping away with the rest of the group. "Naszvidanya, Dobryski."

By the time he finished with his smoke, dropping it into a tin to hold it, he turned to face Bolroff and the gang, only to find they were gone. He hung his head low, setting off the other way towards the surface. "Naszvidanya." He replied, to no one. At least with the encroaching sunlight, and the guards on patrol being changed out, he could be left alone to watch the sea.

Coast Block 60

"Gentafer on approach, salute!"

Dobryski gave a passing greeting to the group of Pova, led by a Sarsha. Some of them looked to have been unaffected by working in the mines; the few who stood out to him had an eyepatch, an arm replaced with a metal replication, and a torn-off ear. He stopped to check over each of them, drawing nervousness from each, before he moved on. He could have sworn he heard an audible gulp from them as he walked off, the marching of boots quickly replacing the noise.

Out of the bunker, and into the trenchline. The endless trenchline, that stretched across every mile of snow. It was large enough for him to pass by the groups of patrols that went around him, as he reached another bunker, sinking into the ground. As he descended down the trench, he was greeted by two other soldiers huddling within, warming up some soup and sharing cigarettes. Out of the bunker, and into another column, which he ascended onto the snow. From here, the coast was lined with ice as far as the eye could see. Clouds loomed on the horizon, as the sun climbed up into the sky. There was nothing better to appreciate than nature itself. It gave him an escape from home, something to pass the time if he put his mind to it.

Dots of electric sound came to life within a pocket of his jacket, urging him to retrieve it and power the handheld radio on. "Dobryski." He answered, receiving a message immediately. "You are needed in the Command Room. The Supreme Commander wants to see you."

January 1, 2057

The Head of the Famsidian microcountry of Umadin, Orns, was cleaning rotten fruit from their face as they stepped down the stairs. Orns had resigned less than two minutes ago. A new election was scheduled to take place over the coming week. Orns sighed, wishing that they weren't the top news story of the night. There had already been enough of a scandal. There didn't need the public shame. The anger circulated strong throughout the crowd. They wanted change, and it was coming, but not in the way they expected.

Elsewhere, "Boom go the sky.", a young child said, pointing upward. Large lines of fire shot in many directions. Another would soon come. Fireworks. Crude rockets launched for light in celebration. A traditional Famsidian song played in the restaurant. Famsidians danced and cheered. It was a marriage between two newly wed Famsidians, Lognu and Passine. They were both representatives of differing districts. Beyond the feelings, it was hoped by both districts this would help ease tensions and grow mutual understanding. Peace was a desire for many.

Lognu and Passine, you are going to stay to be. Let all the world shine upon you. From happiness to thee. Spread out your love far and wide. We expect a fine-

But things couldn't be simple. The broadcast cut into a cackling static. The cheer slowed, as another Famsidian, the restaurant host, went to the radio now broadcasting static. This was odd. The radio had just been printed recently. It was still new and checked for defects before the party started. A large television screen, previously broadcasting a slideshow of the families, altered its picture.

A news jouranlist, Larner, showed in front of their desk. The desk read "National News Network". It was the government's news reporting agency. Larner spoke, "We apologize for the interruption, but we have dire news. This is an urgent time for the rational and compassionate to ready themselves. There is potentially a new nation amongst us. We do not claim to support or be against them. They are calling themselves the People's Republic of Cindorya, and have declared independence from the Cindorayi Empire. Effects are growing quickly, including collateral damage. A Famsidian communications satellite was downed from collateral damage. It is unknown how far this revolution will escalate."

Lognu looked at Passine. Both were scared. But as both held each other with two of their arms, both whispered to each other in calmer relief, "We have each other to go through this."

Elsewhere, in a smaller town near the edge of the southern ocean, a prototype of a new Famsdamen rocket engine was being tested. The engine was the size of a cup, and held in place from strong steel clamps. It ran within a small house garage. The engine had been running for several hours. The engineer, Gonte, was watching it closely, though tired from not sleeping. Gonte said with a dry mouth, "No defects at all. This could be amazing for my level 3 schooling course. Maybe then... they'll take me seriously..."

Gonte lifted three of their hands. One to get a drink of water from a nearby table, which began to be drunk. One to reach for a camera to take a picture of the current engine's stability. One to pick up a bolt, just noticed on the ground. The last was the most firm grip. Gonte spoke to themselves more, "I am not naive..."

--Elyria, Capital City of the Grand Protectorate--
~~Imperial House of Lords, 24798th session of the Regency Council~~
January 2nd, 1600 hours

The sound of a gavel, undoubtedly that of Duke Daraduin, the Lord Speaker, brought the attention of the House back onto the topic at hand, the same topic that had been in discussion for the past century.

The question of who to elect as the Monarch of Lithla

“Now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted, my fellow lords…” began Count Lythys.

“What, that the noble we elect as Monarch has to be at most, the same height if not shorter than our late Empress? Absolutely proposterous! If I had to wager, the bloody Cindorayan cats paid you off to delay the selection process!”

The first voice of protest set off a thunderstorm of like-minded shouts, the Regency Council broke off into two camps, as was usual. A herd of lords would defend the accused, citing that they had valid points or that to respect the memory of the beloved late Empress Lilith, that any candidate for the crown simply could not be more competent than the former Empress. On the other side of the room, the accusing lords would descend into a frenzy of defamations and insults, claiming the accused to be some sort of foreign stooge and bought out by the nation’s enemies to prevent Lithla from returning to stability.

Duke Daraduin, perhaps disheartened by this, or seeing the utter futility of controlling what amounted to dignified nobles acting like spoiled children, breathed a heavy sigh. His sentiments were likewise echoed by Her Ladyship Arrenys Faesala, Grand Regent of the Protectorate, who simply rested her head on her left hand, wearily watching the House bicker as it always has over the most trivial and unimportant of matters.

Arrenys began to push herself out of her seat, rising to address the assembled lords before her with a tone both strict and authoritative, resembling (as some of the older Lords would remark) the manner of speech of the late Empress.

“My Lords, that is enough!” she said as the House returned to some semblance of order and silence.

“Do you all truly think there is a point debasing yourselves arguing over a foolish matter such as this? Are all of you truly that moronic as to waste more of our precious time debating such folly? In my thirty and three years of service to the realm as Grand Regent, arguments such as this have come up time and time again. It’s no wonder we haven’t elected anyone in the past century this Council has existed.”

As she sat down, hand over her face and shaking her head in disapproval, the House of Lords seemed to rumble. The murmurs of the assembled lords crescendoed into outright panic as the very foundations shook, prompting the Lord Speaker to rise and hammer the gavel onto the block to calm them down.

“My Lords, please, sit down. This minor disturbance is nothing more than some construction work, I am sure.” He spoke, in a calm tone, struggling to keep another, more likely possibility out of his mind.

The silence returned, only for the sounds of gunfire to replace it mere seconds before the oaken doors leading to the Assembly Hall were forcibly thrown open, splinters of wood flying everywhere and impacting some of the more unfortunate noblemen; Count Lythys included, who happened to be located near the entrance. Guardsmen stationed in the building readied their rifles, steadying their aim the door and moving to cover the only person of true importance in the building, Her Ladyship, the Grand Regent.

As the smoke began to clear, the armored figure of an Ouroboric Knight, the elite cavalrymen of Lithla, could be seen trudging ever so placidly towards the centre of the chamber, accompanied by a platoon of black-clad riflemen, mere footsoldiers of the Lithlan Imperial Army. His face was clear for all to see, a sharp nose and slanted eyes, with a harsh face bearing only the vague hint of a smirk. Truly none this mistake him for any other than Marquis Montares, Field Marshal of the Lithian Imperial Army and Grandmaster of the Ouroboric Knights.

“Grandmaster Montares, what is the meaning of this...transgression?!” Arrenys shouted, standing up from her seat as her guardsmen pointed their rifles at the intruders, the atmosphere tense. Her words were met with a hearty chuckle, enough to make one forget that a firefight could break out at any moment.

“Putting this country in order, your Ladyship.” The man turned to address the House, speaking with conviction and carrying himself as if he was one of their prestigious lot.

“As you are all no doubt aware, being in the centre of it all. It has been exactly 137 years since the assassination of our beloved Empress Lilith, and almost 137 years since the establishment of this very council. The sacred duty of this...government is to serve the people, like a father guiding their son. Yet a more shocking example of incompetence I have not seen in anything other than this very assembly. Our nation was allowed to be cheated of its due in the Void War, foreign interests continue to undermine this very council, perpetually leaving Lithla in peril!”

He turned to face Arrenys, face sullen despite his impassioned words just a moment prior.

“Words cannot express the pain I feel for the anxiety my actions have caused you. However, Your Ladyship, I beseech you, allow me to cleanse this hall of traitors nesting and purge this government of the malady of corruption plaguing us.”
She was left speechless, and surprised, even somewhat guilty. Arrenys took a breath, composing herself before speaking in turn.

“I truly regret forcing you into this position through my own incompetence. I will not lie, the current state of our nation is less than ideal. A contrast exists between my vision of the future and the reality before us. Your words are not lost on me, Grandmaster, though none of this redeems me of the responsibility to be accountable for the state of our Empire. As such, there was no need to spill blood on my, or the people’s behalf, yet you have done so regardless. If you truly love our land, and its people…”

“Why have you struck down the people you claim to protect?! I need not exit this building to know that innocent lives have been lost outside its halls!” The Grand Regent tried to suppress the tears slowly flowing down her cheeks as she cried out.

“Can you truly claim they were out of consideration of this nation and its people?”

“Your Ladyship…” The Marquis murmured, stunned and at a loss of words. “This nation, Lithla, exists in the hearts of its people. As long as the Lithlan people still live, our nation will endure. However, Lithla cannot be reborn without a true leader. An Empress, not a Grand Regent bound by the will of a pack of bickering children. To protect and guide Lithla is to protect and guide its people, you of all people should know that first and foremost.”

Falling to his knees, the armor-clad knight continued.

“Thus I beg of you again, your Ladyship, you alone have the power to save more lives than I could by continuing this sordid affair. There is still a path we can take that absolves both the nation and us of the mistakes we have committed in the past century. We can still finish what this Regency started. I offer you an Obsidian Crown and a Throne to match. Please...for the sake of this nation and its people, accept it, your Ladyship.”

Arrenys tarried a moment, to wipe the tears away and to pull herself together, approaching the kneeling knight.

“The Empress is but a mirror to reflect the will of the nation’s people to the wider world, Montares...But what use is the will of this country when there is no mirror to reflect it? A Regent provides a poor substitute, that is what I think, and I agree with your conviction, despite the different ways we chose to handle this.”

“I...have no choice but to accept. To refuse is to let this Empire slip further into decline by incompetence. For the sake of the nation and its people, I will accept, carrying with me the lessons of this incident, and I…”

“I vow to devote myself, both to the betterment of this country and its people as your Empress. May the Divine above strike me down with righteous fury if I should ever fail in this sacred duty.”

May 2034:
Crown Princess Lucina Vaspen (8) flew into the great hall with all of her five siblings in tow. They look to be playing soldier with their wooden weapons of all descriptions, and their clothes have dirt and grass stains all over them as if they were just rolling around in the garden. Lucina ran straight up to the throne and takes cover behind it, Her siblings who are playing as the Wojteki this time, slowly approach the throne. Two of them staying back to give covering fire with their ranged weapons. Suddenly there is a roar from the throne, their father Wolfgang Vaspen shouts in a firm voice:
“What are you doing in here?!”
All of the children suddenly snap to their senses, they had been so caught up in playing their little war they forgot father had an important meeting with the head researchers! Wolfgang Vaspen noticing their shocked little faces, and proceeds to usher the Wojteki pretenders out of the room saying to them in a knowing tone:
“We will talk about this later, but go get yourselves cleaned up, and get back to your studies.”
Returning to the throne he finds his little Lucina standing there with her head down looking really subdued. He walks over to her gives her a little smile and says:
"How many did you shoot?”
She tilts her head up, smiles, and says:
“I shot two of them in the garden, and one in the hallway outside before they chased me in here. They never play fair Dad! They always claim they can rise from the dead or something!”
“Now now Lucina, you’ve heard my stories. There are almost always more than you expect, but we will talk about this more later. For now head back to your room and clean up, and please stop giving your Instructor the slip just to go play with the boys.”
“Alright Dad.” she gives him a little smile and prances off to her room.
Wolfgang watches her leave the room and turns back to the researchers, who have just been standing there watching the whole scene with knowing smiles on their faces. Wolfgang says:
“How is the prototype coming along?”
The head researcher Wilfred turnes to the Emperor and said with a little pride in his voice,
“It’s ready.”

January 2057 (Venris)
Princess Lucina had just arrived at the spaceport located just outside Venris the capital city. When she received word that her father, Emperor Wolfgang wanted to see her as soon as possible. Upon arrival at the castle she was escorted to her chambers and told to freshen up after her journey from the space station. So she took a quick shower and put on her favorite dress, and then went to the great hall to meet with her father.
The Emperor had just finished a meeting with some of his military advisors when she entered the hall. She noted that her father typically didn’t call her into the hall during normal meeting hours, so this must be very important. She waited out of earshot of the current conversation for her father to dismiss the advisors, and when he did dismiss them she approached and said
“Hello Father, I trust you have been doing well while I was away.”
The Emperor replied, “I have been doing as well as i can, but there is an important matter I need to speak with you about.”
“Of course Father I am at your disposal.”
“There seems to have been an incident in orbit, the Cindorayi Empire has had a few of their older satellites go berserk and attack their fleet, and their Orbital Command station.”
“Do we know who orchestrated the attack?” the Princess said, clearly startled.
“No but this only happened moments ago I’m sure the Cindorayi will issue a public statement soon, but I want our fleet to assist with search and rescue operations. I’m sure you can organize that, right Admiral Lucina?”
“Of course Father I’ll have what ships can be spared from the current mission assist in the rescue operation.”
“Very good, now if you will excuse me I have some other matters to attend to.”
As the Emperor leaves the grand hall Princess Lucina rushes to her room to notify the fleet.

January 2057 (Orbit)
The Vaspenian Fleet of seven corvettes have just left the space station, and are escorting three newly built exploration ships until they reach orbital escape velocity. Commander Konrad von Bock is relaxing aboard his command corvette, VES-101 (Undine), when his navigational officer noticed some strange readings and said, “Commander i’m getting a large explosion of the port bow.”
Konrad startled, replied “What? Are we being engaged?”
“No sir, it seems the explosion came from quite a distance away.”
“Can we get a visual on screen?”
“Yes sir, working on it!”
The next few moments are complete silence as the entire Vaspenian Fleet looks on in awe of the massive explosion that once was the Cindorayi orbital Command station. The surviving Cindorayi corvettes, are also visible attacking and destroying their own satellites. Not knowing what happened Commander Konrad gives the order to maintain course and finish escorting the exploration ships. An hour later Konrad receives a message from Admiral Lucina, directing him to leave three of his corvettes to continue escorting the exploration ships, and to take the remaining four corvettes to assist the Cindorayians in search for any survivors and to collect the dead from the explosion.
Almost immediately Konrad relayed the orders to all other ships in the fleet, the corvettes VES-105(Gazelle),106(Niobe), and 107(Nymphe) were assigned to protect the exploration vessels. While corvettes VES- 101(Undine), 102(Arcona), 103(Thetis), and 104(Frauenlob) were ordered to assist. Commander Konrad immediately set course for the debris field that once was the Orbital Command station. Konrad then appraises his crew of the current situation, and what he expects from them.

Excerpt from Konrad Von Bock’s after action report:
“After the first six hours of searching the three corvettes dispatched to escort the exploration ships, 105, 106, and 107 arrived to assist us. In the end we managed to find the bodies of 18 fallen Cindorayi crew members, and 6 surviving crew members. Two were picked up from the wreckage of corvette #015, one from #007, two from #018, and one from #022. All of the Crewmembers living and dead were dropped off at Kalashnik Research Station. After removing the last of the dead, we returned to our own space station. Moral was in the pits the entire journey home, because we all knew that could happen to us at any time. One slip up was all it took to end up missing or dead.”

~Premier's Office, Sylvnor, People's Republic of Cindorya~

A Cindorayi lady bent over the other seated in the chair, dabbing gel on her face so as to make her fur lie flat and appear more presentable.

"That's quite enough, Aliya." spoke the woman in the chair with some slight impatience.

"Almost done, hold your fastamars." Aliya put on her final touches. "You sure like your idioms, don't you, Aliya?" replied the woman in the chair.

"'Course I do. It helps give flavour to things." "And, all done. You ready?"

Sahrova Verasha brushed herself off and rose from her seat. "I'm sending a message to the entire world I was born on. Could I ever be?"

Aliya smiled. "Good point, ma'am. Well, good luck to 'ya."

Sahrova let a brief smile through. "Thank you, Aliya."

A man's voice called from the other side of the desk. "We're ready when you are, Premier."

Sahrova blinked almost in confusion. "It's so strange to hear you say that, Burya. Seems like just a few weeks ago we were just resistance leaders."

"Aye, and now you've got a big fancy desk, Premier. Seems like the Revolutionary Council has a high opinion of you."

"Are you implying you didn't vote for me, Burya?" Sahrova shot him an exasperated glare, and he barely held off against it for a second before he burst out laughing. "Of course I did, Premier. Now, are you ready?"

Sahrova reflexively straightened out her brand-new ceremonial uniform once more. "Of course." She seated herself, and looked straight at the camera.

"3, 2, 1, and go."

~Official Announcement from the People's Republic of Cindorya~

A Cindorayi woman in a brand new dress uniform, silvery pauldrons on the shoulders and medals pinned to it, leaned forward over a wooden desk, the Cindorayi imperial eagle sanded off the front.

"This is an address from Premier Verasha of the People's Republic of Cindorya to both the people of Cindorya and those of Nova Mondial alike. As of today, January 1st, 2057, the PRC declares itself independent and sovereign of the oppressive and tyrannical Cindorayi Empire. We have acted in preemptive self-defense to stop the Empire from attempting to reassert its control over us. We do not declare war on the Empire. However, we insist that it will simply allow us the right of self-determination. We can only hope that the Empire will abandon its oppression over the Cindorayi people who continue to live on the homeworld with time as well.

The Imperial government has here on Cindorya committed great crimes against its own people as well as those they used as slaves and servants, the Adanaia. They have consistently denied the Cindorayi people's rights to self-fulfillment, and have only used our lives as pawns in their games. For too long, we Cindorayi thought ourselves above the Aldabetuse, the Adanaia, the Velucans, and all manner of races, and pitied them. But we should have pitied ourselves, for we have suffered a much greater fate than hard labour... the loss of free will. Viceroy Clovya, the sixth prince of the Empire, suffered his death at the hands of the angry mob that he had so incited. His fate may be a lesson to all those who wish to commit similar crimes against sentience.

We ask for those who seek to challenge the hegemony of such a corrupt and terrible state to defy them, to step forward, to recognize us, and to work with us. We seek to make the void a place where people may find new happiness and create a new world free from the conflict of the homeworld that has haunted us for hundreds of years. Since as long as sentient creatures existed on Nova Mondial, we have looked up to the void in wonder, in awe, at the celestial lights laid bare before us. Since that time, we have looked up at the void and dreamed of what it would be like to reach up there. Here on Cindorya, we have realized that dream. We ask all those who are also willing to dream to reach out and join us.

Thank you, and may Wiglion bless Cindorya in the days to come."

~Imperial Military Command, Solvyana, Cindorayi Empire, Nova Mondial~

"Welcome back, viewers. I'm here now at the Imperial military funeral where His Imperial Majesty is reported to be appearing in person to deliver the eulogy for those brave voidcraft captains and crew who were lost during the traitorous subterfuge on Cindorayi orbital facilities. The Space Force has issued a statement thanking those nations who assisted them in recovering some of their officers, including-"

The reporter paused as the Emperor ascended the stage behind him, and then stuttered,

"...And now, His Imperial Majesty, the 7th Emperor of the Empire of the Cindorayi."

The crown on his head sparkled silver and blue, and his purple robes, patterned with golden Imperial avias, fluttered in his wake. He strode powerfully to the podium before him, set in front of the 24 coffins, Imperial flags drawn over each one. The camera moved immediately to focus on him, leaving the hapless reporter behind.

The Emperor, Charchenov Vissarion II, cleared his throat and spoke in a deep, booming voice which threatened to rattle the walls with its very sense of presence.

"Subjects of the Empire, the Cindorayi people, and those of you cowering in foreign nations."

"On the final day of the year 2056, the Empire faced its greatest tragedy in a generation. 136 of our finest men and women were brutally and unceremoniously murdered by treacherous sabotage within our very ranks. The coffins you see here are nothing but a mere fraction compared to those we cannot bury. This same group of thieves and bandits have seen fit to not stop there, but also to rob me of one of my children. And now they pretend to be a nation all their own. This is nothing but the greatest slander and foolishness. It is an affront to me, to the lives that were lost that day, to the lives that were lost to these spoiled children before now on Cindorya.

These brigands now have the insubordination now to speak of such nonsense as a dream, a dream of a peaceful future without war. Are these corpses, the corpses of their fellow people, the vision of the future they seek to attain? Let this serve as a lesson to all Cindorayi: "freedom" is harbinger of death. These rabble will bring nothing but death and ruin to those who pursue their foolhardy aims. They preach "equality" among the races, but this "equality" is what have caused the great eras of death and destruction in the past. The species of the world, all fighting each other, massacring each other, for their own aims.

Our national policy for the last three hundred years has been vindicated this day, as the proponents of equality strike another death blow upon their own kind. Inequality... is not wrong! Equality is! Wiglion, in his wisdom, saw fit to bestow upon the races inequal gifts. Some were created stronger in brute force, some more cowardly and afraid, some to breed like insects in their pestilence. The Cindorayi, alone among all others, are his chosen people. We have been given the greatest gift of all among others: our unity of spirit. Today's tragedy will one day be but a footnote in the triumph of the Cindorayi, though their sacrifices will be remembered. Our victory is as inevitable as the sun's rise, for we are superior in all things. That victory, with the lesser races subjugated in their rightful place, will bring about that very dream of peace... without end. To that end, all Cindorayi speak in unison!"

"Pravilo Nasha Sudba! Pravilo Nasha Sudba! Pravilo Nasha Sudba!"

The voices in chorus rang around the ceremonial hall, rang around the city of Solvyana, and rang around the entire Empire, as the ground itself seemed to vibrate with the discipline of a people brought together for one purpose: to win, no matter the cost.

~~Port Meredith, North Coast of Lithla~~
January 2nd, two hours after the coup.

“In addition to the statement released by the Cindoryan People’s Republic, as broadcasted previously, the Cindorayi Emperor, His Imperial Majesty Charchenov Vissarion II, has also made a public statement to the entirety of Nova Mondial which we are displa-”

The news reporter paused on-screen for a moment, before pushing her headset closer to his ears, as if attempting to check if what he heard was truly correct. He stuttered for a moment, attempting to comprehend the situation.

“T-this just in, a priority message from the Capital City. A coup has taken place, ending the Regency Council and the Protectorate itself. The Grand Regent, Her Ladyship Arrenys Faesala has declared herself Empress, with the support of Marquis Montares of the Ouroboric Knights and the majority of the Lithlan Imperial Army. We will now commence a global broadcast of Her Imperial Highness, Arrenys I of the House Faesala’s first public address. Please listen with dignified respect.”

The television screen flashed with static for a brief moment, cutting away from the regularly scheduled news programme that was to take place at 8pm. Kellyn stared at the TV screen, confused for a moment, before realising exactly what was going on.

“So the Regency Council finally broke, huh?” She scoffed, shaking her head and starting intently as the screen as the Lithlan anthem began to play in the background, followed by a camera panning to a crowd assembled before the House of Lords, with the newly declared Empress at the peak of the steps.

~~Elyria, Capital City of Lithla~~
Live from the House of Lords

“To the peoples of my beloved nation, Lithla.” She began, with the same fiery conviction she and the Grandmaster felt mere hours prior, when they chose to set the nation along this path.

“I apologize for the anxiety, the fear and confusion you all may have felt as a result of this incident. I sincerely beg your forgiveness for the demanding trials these series of events have put you through, especially those living in the capital and the relatives of those who have lost loved ones as a result. However, this incident, this...restoration took place because the brave men and women alike, with a patriotic devotion to this nation sought to correct the faults of the government, and at the same time, my own rule’s imperfections.”

Arrenys paused for a moment, to collect her own thoughts and to allow the crowd and the viewers, both within and without Lithla to grasp her message.

“The deeds of these brave men and women, whilst noble, cannot be forgiven. Nevertheless, I will not look down on their wish to see this slumbering nation truly awaken. It was that will that compelled them to stand up and fight, in this city, for the future they envisioned. It was through this trial I came to realise that we should reflect, upon the people that we are, and the true Lithlans we should be which has been carved into our hearts. The ending of the Protectorate has come, a fact that I am sure brings both relief and anxiety to many of you fearful for what the flow of time will bring.”

“And that is why we must take this stride towards the present age, as a stepping stone to the bright future we envision. Those who chose to turn their blades against their own countrymen rather than our foes attempted to show us, that through their own actions, the way to return pride and strength to our hearts; For nothing can be gained without action.”

“It was in light of this that I have decided to accept the crown that was offered me. The Empress is but a mirror to reflect the will of the people, but what use is the will of the people when there is no mirror to reflect it with? A Regent makes a poor substitute compared to the radiance of a Monarch.”

“Thus I declare this, my dear people of Lithla... For the sake of this nation, to prevent it sinking into an abyss of a new Dark Age, I declare the Empire of Lithla to be reborn from the ashes, and as your Empress, I vow to devote myself, to this country, and to you, the people. May the Divine above strike me down if I should ever fail in this sacred duty.”

“Long live the Empire!”

The crowd resounded resplendently a split second after the conclusion of the Empress’ speech. Along the crowded streets of Elyria, and even into the very living rooms of Lithlans in the farthest corners of the nation, all were struck with a grand emotion, with hope, compelling them to repeat their new Empress’ words.

Long live the Empire!

-Vostok Cosmodrome-

"...ultimately all the information we have is that an explosion has occurred in the Orbital Command station of the Empire causing massive damages. I will not speak of what I think the cause is as no doubt a statement will be made shortly."

All around the journalists and the base commander of the Cosmodrome, cosmonauts and technicians rushed around for emergency launches as several shuttles were lined up on 3 pads to be launched one after the other. Behind them, a deafening sound rumbled in the distance as the first 3 launches were made and the others prepared to follow.

"But commander, can you confirm this launch has been authorized by the central Directorate and the Holder? Don't these launches cost billions of-"

This was the core of the problem, wasn't it? The people wonder why they should waste their money on imperial lives. Because the whole thing was a decoy, a plot to steal Imperial tech and leave like bandits, but he couldn't tell that to the world, but he had been prepared on how to spin that story.

"Ladies and gentlemen, yes, these launches have been authorized, but I will remark that the moment news of the event came to us, we were ready to begin a recovery operation. What you are asking is should we have gone ahead with this? Would the Empire have done the same for us? No. They would not as they could have done so when the ORBiT program lit up the sky and they left our brave cosmonauts to die. But we are not the Empire. Mercy and grace toward strangers, even if they do not share our ideals, especially if they do not share our ideals, are the corner stone of democracy. It is not because someone doesn't think the way I do that if they are in danger I will not do my utmost to save them."

The journalist opened her mouth to talk but closed it for a moment of silence. She didn't want to look like a heartless bitch in front of the nation.

"Of course commander. Studios, there you have it. Back to you as I remain here as the situation develops."

-Low Mondal Orbit-

Kalista blinked to get the sweat off her eyelashes (stupid Mark II helmet without dehumidifiers) as she entered final approach to her location. What used to be the Cindorayi Orbital Command station.

"This is Vestal-1 to base, we are in view of the site. Where are the first responders?"

"This is Base. You're it."

Kalista opened her eyes wide. She was it?! There was an emergency launch minutes ago sure and the orbit was closer to Veluca's influence, but didn't they have any contingencies in place for events like these? Of course they didn't. The Cindorayi and everyone else on Mondal could point and laugh at the Kobold's failures all they wanted, but the kobolds had learned from their failures every time. Not just how to stride forward in multiple fields of science, but they had also established a tried and tested set of procedures in case of disaster.

The Cindorari? That was their first taste of terror, of epic failure. The reptile sunk in her seat, now doubting they'd find much people alive, if any. Good, her 'extra passengers' wouldn't be such a bother then. Behind her in the recovery bay that should be empty save for the bare minimum rescue crew and their tools was a vessel, an advanced recovery vehicle along with a crew to man it. But this wasn't meant to recover people, but things. This devastation was a wealth of resource to exploit! Sure the gap with the Empire was closing, but it was never fast enough and this would no doubt help greatly.

"This is Vestal-1, begining recovery operations."

The shuttle opened its bay doors after being decompressed to let out the workers do their grim tasks. All around them, bodies and mangled metal, the failure of a nation, the beginning of something.

______________________



-Kharok's Orbit-

"As we stand on the edge of the cosmos, we look onward to a better future."

Cosmonaut Mastrix Nobilis thus sat foot on Liberty.

Liberty
Equality
Fraternity
Justice
Compassion
Industry
Vision

The seven moons of Kharok (Or Unity, as it was publicly renamed by the kobolds) were thus named and the Edge Expedition finalized its tour of the local Unitan moon system during which they'd land on and collect data on the seven objects as well as take pictures of the gas giant. The landscape could be better looking though, the sun was so far away, the gas giant that should be spectacular was only dimly lit, making for a rather... dead scene.

"And its in the box!"

From where Mastrix had come, dozens of people jumped down to work with the limited amount of air they had. They had to explore the moon and gather enough ice to make it back home after all. Still, it was annoying that this video of their achievement couldn't be sent back yet. With the Orbital command exploding, this would have to wait until a few days to make sure they didn't steal the interest of the world from this great event. Just for propaganda concerns, official logs would thus state that the expedition landed 3 days from now. Silly, but democracy could use the attention of the world to steal the sunlight of imperialism.

Then again, Mastrix knew the Orbital Command exploded, but not of the democratic rebellion behind it.

______________________________________



-Velucan Central Administrative Building #01, Capital City-

Being part of the Directorate gave the top members certain, aherm, amenities. And being part of a young nation in a country without grand history allowed said amenities to be in luxurious penthouses at the top of sky scrappers rather than in stuffy old buildings. The Holder of Power and supreme leader of the Union, Vermillion Cray, looked down on the city bellow the clouds, confident that the windows didn't allow anyone to see or spy inside the building.

"Aaaaaand you now owe me a beer mister Drachma."

Behind him, Mister Drachma CEO of Drachma Heavy Industries played pool with General Tannhauser from Strategy while General Breks from Space and Yul from Technical looked with little interests.

"I guess I'll pay it with the money from the colonial contracts now that imperial dominion over space just got nuked."

Said Drachma. The others laughed casually about this tragedy. Cray did the same, because here was not a tragedy, but an opportunity! The Holder turned around to face his subordinates. Not that he ordered them around though, this was pretty much a democratic council. Not officially of course, but each person in this room was there because the others around him formed a small clique that controlled the essentials of the state apparatus. They had been promoting one another to positions of power for years now and finally, they were in control.

"Lets not sell the skin of the bear before we even killed it. And what a bear this is."

Said Cray, approaching the table.

"We have cosmonauts helping them, I have no idea what will come out of that, but we need to decide our stance in the matter. Obviously, democracy is good, blah blah blah, so I'll give a little call to the new player on the... solar stage. Only question is how to milk this for all its worth. I'm thinking of course we get as many shuttles on stand by as possible but we might want to get a show of force going. Flex our muscles enough for the Emperor to remember we're there, but not enough to rile up the war fever under the surface of people's mind."

The people in the room nodded in agreement but the gaunt Yul who pushed up his eyeglasses.

"Soon, but not now. We might want to throw this... PRC under the bus if they're unworkable. We spent so much time sucking up to the Empire and playing nice, it would be a shame if we threw all that out for 'Ideology' or some other silly nonsense."

Cray rolled his eyes. Of course it wasn't a matter of democracy or authoritarianism, it was just 'Kobold before everyone else', but Yul seemed to despise democracy more than all the others in the room.

"Of course. Now give me that cue, I'll show you how its done."

_______________________________________________________

To: Sahrova Verasha
From: Vermillion Cray
Subject: Independence

Greetings.

You were magnificent! Forgive my bluntness, but I always deeply regretted the weakness of the message my predecessors gave at the independence of Veluca and I am proud to witness something that will do magnificently echo in the halls of time!

Pleasantries aside though, be certain the Union of Veluca recognizes your independence as well as sovereignty over at least the continent your new nation is located on, further details can be settled in a more official communication than a secret message as this.

Though I once again you will forgive my bluntness, as kobolds have a very short lifespan we have little time to waste. In reality, our position is very precarious. You have distance in your favor, but your industrial output I will presume, is nowhere near what would be needed to face the Empire if it is allowed the time to build a fleet powerful enough to overwhelm your defenses. We could help you with that. As the Empire did before, there could be a gate keeper to space preventing its militarization, though one who makes the laws of space based on democratic votes rather than the whims of hereditary nobles.

We have the industrial might and the launch capacity to set up the frame work of something great today! But what we lack is the know how. As a show of good will, I would like you to share fusion with the world! On all broadcasts, on the internet! Free and plentiful power to the masses of the world as a gift from democracy to all races. On a more intimate matter between our two countries, while this would make our plan possible, it would still be a long shot. Our laser technologies are years behind that of the Empire and asking for this I know, is a much more delicate matter than asking for a way to universally make life better for everyone.

The matter of war and violence may not be avoided and I understand that when facing an uncertain future, giving out one of the rare advantage you have may seem daunting, but I must ask for your trust, now as a friend and maybe later as a sister in arms.

To close this, with this message are a set of encrypted bank accounts accessible from the Empire with two billion crowns in them. It is unconditional to weather or not you accept our suggestions. These were set up during the Void war to support covert operations but it is my opinion that they'll be more beneficial to someone attempting to change things than to those who merely wish to destroy an enemy. I hope this money will serve you well.

Signed
Vermillion Cray, Holder of Power of the Union of Veluca.

__________________________

-Somewhere, in orbit...-

"Well, well well..."

The agent was a technical specialist from intelligence, not a cosmonaut. Everything felt weird in the darkness of a blown up compartment of the Command Station. But he had found something. A data bank, intact. He'd get a promotion for that.

The morning of January 2, 2057
District 15, Sublayer 10, Command Room

Dobryski peered into the empty, dimly-lit space. The chairs were still present from hours ago, as were all the electronics provided. All that was missing were his fellow Gentafers and, knowing them, they may come back slightly more inebriated than the regular rank-and-file. That was the privilege Gentafers were granted, not as bound to the laws and expectation of the Dominion Military, yet still retaining a balance to appear respectable. Indeed, it was uncommon to see an elder Wojteki guzzle down more wojka than the set limit (of five shots), but it was something to be ignored. They did, after all, achieve that position of some freedom through their long service.

But, time was not to be wasted. He sat down into one of the chairs in the middle of the table, patiently waiting for the screen to come alive. Was it just going to be him, face-to-face with the Supreme Commander? As he pondered away, another person stepped into the room. At first, his expectations were Bolroff, knowing how well he knew the man. Bolroff's achievements included the use of tanks with drills attached instead of treads, giving them mobility across the snow and ice. It was based off of their current mining vehicles, which were always in use by the young adults of the nation. By covering the drills with plating, adding machine guns to the front, and a hefty turret capable of blasting through heavy armor. Variations on the tanks included anti-infantry, adding a massive hexagon-ball head with four machine guns meant more for shooting down aircraft than soldiers; a long-range artillery piece, attached to the back of the tank to allow proper angling at targets far and near; and an underwater variation, which carried soldiers without fear of being sunk. They were still in the works, but they had plenty of time before another war could roll around. The Bolroff tank was, potentially, something they needed.

And what did Dobryski have to show, in return? Another satellite. It was easy enough to keep Sati in space, where it would be unaffected, while providing visual over the entire chilled region. This satellite, he promoted, would be able to fire down metal rods that would hit the planet's surface, effectively using kinetic bombardment to achieve success. The issue, however, was that it was only an idea; the satellite itself would have to be manned at all times, with a crew on board to manufacture and arm the rods. Not to mention the diplomatic issues it would cause, bearing such a dangerous weapon. It would have to be large, and defensible, but defense would not be easy to achieve. Unlike the Vaspen, and many other Cindorayi-tech nations, they did not bear strong defensive shielding, hence their reliance on trenches, forts, and the underground. Even if they did bring it up into space, how would it survive against ships?

The screen flickered on, abruptly, catching Dobryski's attention. Supreme Commander Szechslaszi was on. He immediately rose from his seat, only to be met with one phrase: "Sit down." No salute. He lowered back into the chair, keeping his hands in front of him. The aged Wojteki stared straight at the lone Gentafer, then lowered his head.

"You remember the War of the Fangs, do you not?" He started up, raising a hand to lower his cap over his eyes, awaiting Dobryski's answer.

The War of the Fangs. The conflict between the Wojteki, the Vaspenians, and the Tari. It was a matter of expansionism, for growing beyond the icy wastes of the planet's south. It had started in 2010, under Supreme Commander Crymulka, and ended six years later, with an armistice between the Dominion and the two other monarchies. Crymulka, as history had shown, aspired to expand into fresher territory through the conquest of its neighbors. Through obtaining Vaspenite and Chitanite, the Dominion would become an unstoppable force in the south. Although Wojteki strength and determination was successful in pushing through Vaspen and Tari lands, they were soon forced out due to the higher quality of weaponry both nations offered. However, counter-attacks into Wojteki land were immediately stopped, thanks to the well-fortified front offered, along with a seemingly endless supply of missiles and Dobrevirite bullets. Within six years, the Wojteki population had gone from ten-million down to five-million; recklessness, constant human-wave operations (with a lack of offensive mechanized vehicles that could properly cross the ice), and the Dominion's lagging behind their enemies, led to the defense on the homefront.

But, not a single inch was handed over to either of the monarchies. Any and all attempts to tread on Wojteki snow were met with flaming shells and massive explosions. Perhaps the biggest mistake both nations made was to attack the Wojteki during the winter-time; the ice was easy to shatter, and no amount of Vaspenite shielding or Chitanite healing could save them from the frozen depths. Vaspen casualties mounted to three-million, while the Tari lost six million of their own.

By 2016, both sides were hard-hit by the war. Crymulka had abruptly died of a heart attack, and the new Supreme Commander, Carpulski, accepted a peace deal with the Vaspenians and Tari. Carpulski, back then, was just a young Gentafer at the age of 60, shifted into the role of Supreme Commander to play diplomat. He would go on to see the start of the war between the Cindorayi and the Aldabetans, from which he would slam his foot down on war for the last time.

That was the War of the Fangs. The conflict that the Wojteki struggled to breed their numbers back, to reach some acceptable standard of technology that was on the level of their neighbors.

"Yes." Dobryski finally spoke up, reminiscing back to those times. He was just a worker during that war, thirteen when it started. His father and mother, Dobrykov and Ivanaka, participated as Kaptensks, deployed during the assault into Vaspen, watching as the steady waves of Wojteki were gunned down as they attempted to breach killzones again and again. Neither of them survived the war.

"And you know those we fought against?" The lupines and the lizards. As the stereotype went, both of them were fragments of the past; the former an old-age court stuck in time, with nobles rambling over who got the gold; while the latter was an idiotic mish-mash of classes that would only amount to billows of smoke from their corpses. Such was the common Wojteki thought; the pure among the flawed.

"Yes." Again, Dobryski repeated. He himself had little to think of them.

"And do you seek peace?"

This question sounded... off. Dobryski, and many Wojteki, were taught to hate outsiders. It was their fault the Wojteki had stagnated for so long, until that fateful year of 2010.

"Do you?" Szechslaszi asked again, expecting an immediate answer.

"I..." Dobryski started, thinking over his words. The Dominion did not have enough troops to mount another war, as the Vaspenians and Tari were five times their number. Another war would be pyrrhic in nature. "...Yes, Supreme Commander."

"Meet me in District 16." With that, Szechslaszi tuned out, leaving Dobryski alone. Did he answer correctly? Did he answer wrongly?

District 3, Sublayer 3

"Artyama, are you really going out?"

"He's out there! I can't leave him to freeze!"

There were two Wojteki arguing at the armory. Amongst the miles of ammunition, armor, and guns, there they stood. Artyama pointed a curved nail at the other, holding a breathing mask in her hand. "What would you know about having a brother, Kramov?"

No response came from the male Wojteki, as the female continued to dress into her gear. "At least let me come with you. As hot-headed a Sarsha you are, it won't do you much good to go out alone." She stopped, flashing a glare at him, then continuing with a low groan. "Either we find Artyom, or..." As he started up again, she grabbed a machine pistol from a rack, loading the drum magazine with bullets and another for reloading.

Kramov soon followed after, by the time she reached the elevator, carrying with him a sword and a revolver. Their destination was one of the mining sites, currently dormant due to reports of wildlife. Usually, the dig sites were closed down for workers' holidays. They could afford a day of rest, and as these were common, many operations would suddenly be empty one day, and be full again the next. However, many dig sites would end up ceasing mining, whether due to heavy storm conditions, difficulty in mining, or a disappointing amount of resources being extracted. Knowing the threat of the native wildlife, or even worse, the Rovers, the two Wojteki began trekking over to the dig site before the Armored Guard were assigned there. The Guard was scheduled to patrol the area by the afternoon, and with what time they had in the morning, they could get in and out without worry.

By the time they reached the dig site, no life in sight, Artyama quickly descended down into the mining site, pointing her gun around. She had to find Artyom, she just had to.

"Hurry up, there's a snowstorm about to pick up here--"

"Just give me time!" She called back to Kramov, only to find what she was looking for. Artyom, her brother, face to face. With a pistol aimed at her head.

"I'm sorry, Artyama." He spoke, slamming the butt of his gun hard enough to her head to knock her unconscious. "Oi, traitor!" Kramov moved up to Artyom, aiming his sword at the offender. But, he was too slow. A hail of bullets pierced through his armor, causing him to fall back into the ground, gasping his last breaths. Artyama's own machine pistol was used as the murder weapon, and with no time to spare, Artyom picked his sister up and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her into the entrance of the dormant mine.

Jan 2nd 2057, on the shores of the Lake of Lust in the canopy of the Ethereal Complex.

A Sumutan by the name of Salms, the head engineer of spatial affairs, climbs up into the top room of the First Citizen's command spire, the highest spire within the Ethereal Complex. Salms struggles a bit to pull itself over the safety bars before getting some stable tethering. The head engineer paces itself a bit with the hand grooves on the ground and sees the first citizen itself playing with some toys. The head engineer starts slamming its main body and the floor and slapping its hand tentacles all over the floor, getting the attention of First Citizen Somis.

Somis cautiously positions its toy figures for a bit before shifting itself around to face towards Salms. Somis is a very pale figure with artificially green tinted compound eyes and multiple clan markings covering its body along with multiple platinum bracelets from every major guild to signify its position as the first citizen.

Somis begins to speak.

"Head Engineer Salms, why are you here?” Somis acts in a very matter of fact way.

“This is the new year’s vacation week. Hopefully this should prove more important than the game I was playing with my good friend Virms.” Somis tells its head engineer. The head engineer in response, using its arm tablet to project on the aerogel window a simplistic orbital map highlights the orbital command station along with the recently launched military satellites and the orbital city of Talmac. The typical trade paths are shown, with multiple trade paths within the same longitude of the orbital command center being highlighted red.

Salms than elaborates as its tries to stabilizes its bobbling so it can be taken seriously by Somis, "I am just here to discuss our other interplanetary projects. We have been able work with the kobolds on the orbital city and a multitude of other space missions thus far, orbital commerce however is taking a hit due to the explosion at the Cindorian's orbital command station as our monitors have shown us. Lots of fear is running through the People's News and Liberty Daily on the potential of a cascading debris storm. We know the cleaners should take care of the worst of it, but we need you to assure this as they only listen to you. The only trade paths at risk of micro-debris are in the north, which is nowhere near the orbital city."

Somis stiffens its tentacles a bit, rubbing them across its wide head as its internal coloring becomes more vibrant. “It is great that our friends on Brui (or as the Novas like to say, ‘Cindorya…’) are finally seeing the light, but how do we know they won’t just get nuked? While we can privately celebrate how this disruption allowed for the Lustful Thrust and the Happiest Four to be deployed without being intercepted, we must play it cautious in public. The Dominion spies are likely already preparing to do some subterfuge as is.”

Somis starts to pace itself about the place as Salms hovers in position, rotating itself as Somis continues to rant. Somis after a bit of thinking tells Salms “For we will need far more if we are to be of credible deterrence against the fascists up north and to continue the campaign of global liberation. Have Toso from the Trader’s Guild call up whoever is currently running the coastal towns in New Auslassia to negotiate a trade deal, our current trade relations need to improve to pump out these kill satellites. Two a year is far too slow and we are racing against a clock with our society’s name on it.”

Salms takes notes on its arm tablet and then brings up again the media panic, “Will you still do the assurance?”

Somis briefly pauses for a bit. Than finally replies, “Of course, the people of the Soto need me!”

------------------------------------------------------

Liberty Daily Evening News

Presented to you by our third generation velutian friend Virms Tarfled!

World At Large - On the Cindorian Orbital Incident: Do not fear, Somis assures

First Citizen Somis on the Orbital Command Station Bombing to the multiple trading guilds has spoken on the matter of the Cindorian Orbital Incident, claiming that any debris from the explosion will not affect trade in Low Mondai Orbit and that the trade paths are mostly safe. Analysts say that the brief wave of panic on ground comes primarily from media up north trying to cause terror by over exaggerating the potential danger of a kessler syndrome breaking out because of this terrorist attack. Rumors have it that the attack may have been caused by revolutionaries from a colony on the icy world of Brui.

The Full Transcript is below.

“This tragic act has no place in any civil society, we do not have the best relations with the Cindorian Empire, but we can’t express enough our concern for the innocent civilians who have fell victim to this wonton act of anarchy even as we oppose the existence of this very station. The damage done to the military station which the Cindorians for decades have used to limit the freedom of space commerce and a national right to orbital defense has caused much fear of what happens to the debris so many in the media have claimed to have apocalyptic consequences. But do not fear- the worst of the damage is far and away from Talmac or where any of our pioneers of space commerce carry out their business. Be it out on the moons of Unity at the Vostok Cosmodrome or on our outposts stationed on Sapia. We will continue our policy of avoiding any ties with the Cindorian Empire, and so the bulk of people will not be affected by any micro-debris provided they stay south of the Cindorian Imperial territory and as always- keep a distance from any orbital military installations.”

DISCLAIMER: This is a developing story, stay tuned!

Power Politics- The Violet Society's Charity Ploy

The Violet Society has for the past two decades been playing the role of opposition to the Builder’s Guild and their continued dominance of the Unified Soto. The Violet Society has continued to push for an emphasis on domestic values, isolationism and limiting the degree to which Velutians and Alt-Sapiens have been allowed into the Soto region bringing up concerns of living space and concerns on the cultural harm that these immigrants may potentially bring. This is in disregard of how immigration has allowed us to recover from the miserable economy the Violet Society let the Soto region languish in for so long.

Still, the Violet Society has managed to recover some of their image by creating a strong charitable network for the Soto people and has even branched out into Velutian territory, where many people still live a simpler life. However, no elections have been called and the Trade Guild continues to limit the extent to which they can get more organizations to agree on new elections. The last election held in 2055 has already affirmed continued support for First Citizen Somis and for the continuation of the Builder’s Guild as our head guild. But near future developments could give the Violet Society a much-needed opening.

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The Orbital City of Talmac, January 2nd 2057

At the ripe age of 7, fresh from the pond and ready to live life a Sumutan by the name of Supu finds itself working for its guardians in an antique shop. Supu is often playing around the antique shop, getting itself stuck in all matter of unfortunate places, playing in the low gravity areas and constantly needing to be fished back down to the floor all the while the shop keepers act as parents. One of these shop keepers, a wrinkly Sumutan with a popped head who travels via a motorized platform and speaks with a vocal device who mostly handles the inventory calls for Supu.

The wrinkly Sumutan says “Supu, there’s something important I need to tell you.”

Supu peeks out from under a dome shaped antique and floats itself down from the shelves, but keeps on its hand tentacles only gingerly touching the ground. The deep baby blue hue and dark red eyes of Supu look at the shriveled thing in front of itself.

The shriveled thing says “Our clan has decided that our children need to visit Soto. We believe it is needed to build your sense of character.”

Supu found itself absolutely stunned by this, before slopping to the floor limp and like jelly, deflated in despair at the suggestion before bleating, “The surface? Our generation will never need to go down there! We are the generation that will explore the Sapia and liberate every world in this star system! How can we go back down there? We don’t want your old world, I don’t want it especially!”
The shriveled thing through up one of its tentacles and coughs a bit as Supu continues to bitch before replying “Sapia is much like Nova Mondai, but the gravity is worse there according to the news. If you want to explore Sapia, you must be able to live on Nova Mondai too. We must wear suits out there, it isn’t always this free floaty fun you spawnlings have all the time these days. This is a very dangerous world, you must be adaptable or you may one day end up like me, all shot up, shriveled up and abandoned.”

Supu floats itself back up and hesitantly agrees, if only out of the fear that it may one day look like the shriveled-up thing if it doesn’t toughen up.

“Good. You will go down in a week, be prepared, our guild will teach you everything you need to know of the Soto and why we must liberate.”

Supu is a bit confused on that and asks "I thought I learned that as a larva."

The shriveled up thing pulls itself up with its three remaining limbs to get its eyes to Supu's eye level and says, "We only taught your soul, now we will teach your mind."

Union of Kor
Slums Outside A City
It was inside a rowdy slum bar. The place was just packed with tari workers enjoying themselves after a hard days work. A jukebox like device was blaring music and a crowd was gathered around a tube television watching a sporting match where two tari were punching each other. The bartender a flat face sporting a eye patch and a cheap prosthetic claw to replace his hand was busy cleaning a glass when his phone would ring. He would go to pick up the phone then quickly dropped it.

Bartender Bui "Oi! Jar! Cut the music! An tell those watching big screen quite down!"

The bartender would duck down to grab a radio of questionable origin. It looked like it had been ripped out of a vehicle at one point. While the Bartender was busy fiddling with radio a tari wearing a tattered military jacket went to unplug the jukebox which caused a uproar from those listening.

Jar "Bui said to turn it off! Now shut up! You betting on the fight! Quiet too!"
Bui "Alright! Now that we can actually hear it. Got word that big broadcast. Looks to be conflict
erupting."

A group of tari in military jackets that all shared the same emblem, clearly from a mercenary company would cheer. The bartender would glare at them, shaking his claw hand at them.

Bui "Oi! I said quiet down! It's one."

The bar would grow quieter, was still background chatter but radio would crackle. Majority of tari still had radios instead of actual televisions so all important broadcasts were generally done on radio. After about a minute of static and Bui fiddling with radio some more a voice came on.

Tari Radio Voice "...thus the Union of Kor has decided to recognize the sovereignty of the People's
Republic of Cindorya. The Union of Kor acknowledgement of the PRC does not come with a change in
neutral stance, the Union of Kor will continue its neutral sta-"

Sound of radio would be drowned out by arguing that would erupt. Bartender shaking his head as he went to put the radio away and Jar would go to plug the jukebox back on. Bartender muttering a few curses under his breath.

Jar "Too bad, just a bore peace is. I long for the thrill of battle."
Bui "Jar your a idiot."
Jar "Hey! Just because I got a battery on my belt I got to keep charged. Doesn't-"
Bui "Idiot! Where you gonna find a plug to charge that in a war? Jar... your a lucky idiot,
government giving you that artificial heart to replace old one."
Jar "Ha! They paying me just to stay alive, some test about how long I'll live."
Bui "That reminds me... pay your tab or work it off!"

The bartender would chuck a mop at Jar who would go fetch a bucket and get to working off his tab. Reactions in general among the populace of the Union of Kor were mixed with the whole announcement though in general the most common denominator was a dislike for having a neutral stance. The world just was too peaceful, tari mercenaries had to settle for whatever work they could get. Despite having two wars within the 46 years, War of the Fangs in 2010 and Void War in 2034. Tari always bounced back hard from war losses though it also meant that Union of Kor had suffered rampant overpopulation.

January 2057 (Orbital) Supplemental.

(Excerpt from After Action Report, Konrad Von Bock: Classified) “‘Take the remaining four corvettes to assist the Cindorayians in search for any survivors and to collect the dead from the explosion.’ That’s what the admiral told me to say, what she knew the world would accept for any ship rushing into a battle zone, and picking through the wreckage. ‘We’re looking for survivors!’ that would be the best defence against any challenges to why we were there. But the real reason…. That would never be accepted by the public.”

“The real transmission i received from the admiral was to put up the facade of looking for survivors. While we actually looking through the debris for anything salvageable, and gather data on the armaments of the Cindorayian ships.” Konrad said over the encrypted communication channels to the three other corvettes assisting him in the top secret operation.

“ We have 4 hours to focus on this mission before we default back to the search and rescue parameters. Less if there are Cindorayian ships floating around. So let’s make the most of this time and make Admiral Lucina proud gents!”

The crews of all four ships replied “Hoo-ah!”

All ships got to work searching through the debris.

Three hours later, they had managed to find a heavily damaged, but operational rail gun from the Cindorayian corvette #023. In addition they had gathered all the pertinent data relating to current and past Cindorayian corvette designs. After examining the fleet’s findings and finding them acceptable Konrad said “Alright we have salvaged what we can, let’s proceed with the search and rescue mission.”

January 2057 (New Pitam City, Union of Kor)

Ernst Brandt, woke up in his bed in a cold sweat. This was the third night this week he had woken up in a cold sweat like this. For some reason this time of year always brought back bad memories. Anyway he had a busy day ahead of him, so he may as well get up early…

After a shower and a shave he headed downstairs for breakfast, said good morning to his wife, and set off for the Tarian city hall building. On the way he passed by many empty embassy buildings much like his own, that had once been fully staffed, but now slowly withering away. The Tari guards stand tall on the walls surrounding the embassy sector, proudly doing their duty to keep the undesirables out and keeping their families fed.

As he approached the city hall Ernst noted the imposing look of the stairs, and he could have sworn that these suckers seem bigger than yesterday. Then he thought to himself: “Man my age is really starting to catch up to me now that i’ve rounded the big ol seven oh.” While he was making his way up the staircase, he took note once more of the chitanite embellishments adorning almost all visible surfaces. They made what would normally be very mundane, beautiful.

After tearing his attention away from the chitanite he noted that there were some new guards outside the building. He dismissed it as a new security measure after what had just happened in orbit, why the Union of Kor was concerned about what was happening in orbit, he didn’t quite understand. He resolved to ask about it during the trade meeting this afternoon.


April 2014 (Vaspen Empire, Front lines)

A much younger Emperor Wolfgang is walking among the wounded just behind the front lines, reassuring the wounded, giving them a sense of hope. The Emperor’s Captain of the guard approaches.

“Sir, I know that being among the wounded pleases you, but you are needed at the front.”

“Come now Captain Ernst, we must show these men some appreciation for risking their lives for their country.” the Emperor replied.

“But Sir, the military commanders would like you to come to the front.”

“Very well Ernst. Let me just go though once more, and then we shall head to the front.”

At the front, there are newly dug trench lines for miles in every direction, there are bunkers interspersed with gun emplacements throughout the trenchline. Emperor Wolfgang, and Ernst entered one of the bunkers to find a group of generals huddling around a table finalizing the plan to counter attack. For the past two years the Vaspen army had been hammered month after month with a seemingly endless wave of Wojteki soldiers, day and night, on and on. Then as suddenly as the wave began the wave started to slow, and slow, and eventually the two armies reached a state of equilibrium.

The generals motioned to a PA system in the corner of the bunker.

“We thought it would be appropriate if you were to give some motivational words, or even a speech, before we proceed with the plan.” said the eldest general.

Emperor Wolfgang walked over to the PA system, thought a moment, and then proceeded to tear it off the wall of the bunker and walk outside. He walked out of the bunker, his guards and generals following behind, down the trench line to a gunpit with soldiers manning the weapon. He then turned to the highest ranked general, and stated, “ I think this is a better setting for this sort of thing.”

The general just smiled.

The Emperor, then proceeded to turn on the PA system, every soldiers’ radio squaked in protest. “Soldiers of the Vaspen Empire, this is your ruler Wolfgang Vaspen speaking. Soldiers! As you know all too well, we have lost many comrades, friends, and even family at the hands of the Wojteki. But think of all those behind us! We are the only thing holding the Wojteki back! If not for us the Wojteki would be free to sack, pillage, and enslave our cities and towns.”

“We have successfully halted the Wojteki advance, and now it is our turn to push back! We shall push them back, reclaiming our rightful land! Back Into their barren homeland! Now is the time men! Advance!”

As the Emperor finished that last sentence, the artillery from behind the front line fired what could only be the biggest, and noisiest barrage that they could. Tanks appeared on the horizon advancing towards the Wojteki lines, and the soldiers together as one advanced.

Later that day the high command determined they gained almost a mile out of the advance, and they were still actively pushing the Wojteki back. However for the next couple of days the Emperor could be found walking amongst the wounded, and observing the great loss of life that had occured.

January 2057 (Venris) Supplemental

Emperor Wolfgang sat in his study amongst various piles of documents of all description. His humble little study was one of the few places he could be alone with his thoughts if only for a short while. But this time he sat in front of his desk writing a message to the newly established People's Republic of Cindorya. So far it read as such:

To: Sahrova Verasha
From: Wolfgang Vaspen
Subject: Support

Mrs. Verasha,

I am proud to say that the Empire of Vaspen recognizes your independence, at least in secret.
As we are currently not in a position to stand against your former overlords, even after your utterly
surprising attack on their main force. While we may not have the industry, or even space presence that
other nations may have, we do have a certain technological advantage others do not.

On a completely different note, we have an exploration ship enroute to your planet, if and
when it gets there i hope you will accept my gift of 50 cubic feet of Vaspenite. It should be more
than enough to shield a small fleet of corvettes.

Sincerely,
Wolfgang Vaspen.

After reading through the letter multiple times, and finding it to his satisfaction he called in a member of his Imperial guard.

“Take this letter to the spaceport ground control, and have them relay it to the People's Republic of Cindorya. This is classified information, guard it with your life.”

“Yes Sir!” The guard said just before he rushed out of the room.

If that letter were to fall into the wrong hands, he didn’t ever dare think of what the Empire of Cindorya would do.

A day after the last post

The four-by-four rolled out through the shadow of an arched wooden gate in the fence-line, following a two-track through the bush land. Great fenced pastures flanked the road on either side holding great flocks of kuey Birds, dull gray or dusty brown, winds tipped in yellow or faces splashed with dull sandy yellow spots. As the car rolled passed, the flocks looked up from whatever they were doing and took a curiosity in the coming vehicle and all came running to the fence line. As high as their heads were tall, they couldn't jump the wooden and wire fence if they wanted, but they pressed themselves against it and ran parallel following the strange moving machine, and its occupants as it rolled past, their heads turning and twisting as they looked at it from different angles, all the while keeping perfect pace.

The kuey bird caught the other day twitched and lurched impatiently in the bed of the truck as it fought against the tight grip of Baro Daro to rise out of the bed. He pulled down against it, holding the bound bird against the warm sand filled bed of the truck before it could throw itself out and hurt or kill itself in the fall. But as they drove on further than the pasture went, the other birds quickly lost interest and the captured bird immediately settled.

From pens and fenced pasture came workshops, barns, and the many utility buildings for a ranching operation. From the shed for pumping water and down even to the slaughtering and processing house for the preparation and distribution of culled birds. At far end encircled by a ring of towering, red leafed rosatia trees was a tall white house in the middle of a well watered and manicured lawn. A wrap around front porch contained many seats to sit, and three now were occupied. Rising from one a man in a light tan suit stepped forward and rested his arms on the porch railing. Driving closer Roger could see he was smiling. He pulled to the edge of the dirt road that encircled the rancher's house and shut off the engine. Quickly a team of ranch hands, man and beast-man alike rushed forward and helped Baro Daro and Tracker bring down and escort off the large confused bird.

“Good to see one back in one piece.” the man on the porch called down, “How was the trip, mate? How much brandy is it worth?”

“Bloody hell, a good three rounds I reckon.” Roger said, walking down the flagstone path in the yard, “But she's done.”

“Splendid!” the man exclaimed, before turning to the woman seated next to him, “Claire, would you mind fetching us some brandy? We need a toast to a job well done.”

The woman rose and slipped inside the white screen door as Roger stepped up onto the porch. Sea-green floorboards creaked underfoot as he walked over to take a seat vacated by the ranch boss, now standing.

At over six foot two, he was an imposing man with a broad elephantine frame. In his youth he may have been a sports man, perhaps wrestling by Roger's best guess. But in the intervening years he had packed on a gut to add to his physique. He turned back to his seat, and sat down; fanning his plump red face with an old bush hat. “Tell me, how were the hands that went with you?” he asked.

“Those two? Lord, Kevin: that Baro nut sleeps like he's his own thunderstorm. And that Tracker lads top off his rails.”

The rancher laughed, “Would've thought so. Tracker is a toppo.”

“He got the job done though.”

“Well said.” Kevin said with a sigh, “I'll be sure to throw an extra bottle of gin his way.”

“With a head like his you think that's wise? He'll be off his cracker, never mind the rails.”

“Psh, you now how the Alties are. They pack the good water away faster than you can blink. Pat themselves on the back for it, the rump too I would imagine. Blimey, you've seen the amount of bottles they hand up around their shacks. They brag about it!”

“I've seen them rummage in the garbage for them too.” Roger said.

“Pish-posh, they're trying to cover for themselves. Inflate the score!”

The woman, Kevin's wife stepped back out onto the porch. While as old as he, Claire held a figure far better than the fat rancher next to Richard. Her features were sharp and pointed, and the green field shirt she wore hugged the narrow waist she managed to keep. She placed on the table between the two men a bottle of amber brandy, and several shot glasses. Kevin went to immediately pour, and offered one up to Richard. “To businesses done well!” he toasted.

“To good business.” Richard agreed, and clinking glasses they down their shot.

“By the way, I believe you met my son before.” Kevin said, turning to direct Richard's attention to the third individual on the porch. Half turning out of his seat Richard reached over to shake hands with the other.

“Mathias, it's been a while. Out of the academy now I take it.” Richard said with a wide smile.

Mathias, a tall athletic type smiled broadly. His wide cheeks glowed with pride as he met Richard's hand and took it. “Ay, just got done with it half past last month. Been travelin' a bit before I decided to come back to the old watering hole.” He wore an olive green dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to past the elbows. The short shorts he wore too made his white legs appear longer than they were. Long green socks made up the difference over his calves, and a pair of black boots adorned his feet.

“Where you going to next then?” Richard asked as he sat back down.

“They got me running security detail at the docks.” he said, “Not the most exciting thing in the world, at least not until another war kicks up.”

“Let's not let that be bloody deadset.” Kevin interjected, “I would rather not have trouble.”

He refilled the shot glasses. “But debrief me,” Kevin began, “how'd it go out there?”

“Three days in, two days out.” Richard said, “Went a lot further than we thought, must of walked off for longer than you were told. We was coming in on The Shafts when we found 'er. Had to shoot off dingos.”

“A walk about in tha' bush then.” Kevin said, drinking. Richard followed suit.

“Would have been one if we had some amber!” Richard exclaimed.

“Ay, indeed.”

“Well,” Kevin said with a sigh, pouring a third and final shot, “Last for the day. Ya did good mate, here's to you.” they toasted, “Bonus on the next pay check.”



Present day

“My honorable companions in the chambers,” the speaker began as he stood before the towering cathedral windows of the chambers of the House of State. Sat atop a hill, the central legislative assembly held a commanding view of the capital city through the tall vaulted windows of its main hall. Stretching out before it in all varieties of shape and color the Auslassian capital of Milbury filled in its gentle valley on its march to the sea. The south-coast sky as clear as an unblemished sapphire. The sunlight shone bright off of the shooting arms of the legislative seat, twisting and undulating like ocean waves captured in pearly mortar and crushed lime. Radiating paved paths divided up a green garden lawn, and from the speaker's position one such path seemed to bisect the central window clear in half.

“The words that have come out of this man's gabber are totally, conceivably, an admonished lie to pull the legs from our very bodies.” the speaker continued as he paced down away from the windows into the chamber's center.

The chamber was a round central hall cozily seating forty-five in a circular seating arrangement that slowly fell to a central low dais. A man was seated there in a dark wood dining room chair, his arms folded in his lap as he waited with an irritated expression for the diatribe to end.

“We have heard nothing from him but excuses and slander. His words are not worth more than the mud between a dingo's toes. There is nothing worse that has come from anyone's mouth in the name of the national good than from this man's.”

While the chambers were made for forty-five, today's attendance was little more than eight. All primarily of the Committee of Public Oversight. Present too were reporters who stood above the seats looking down, leaning on a polished silver handrail as they danced their fingers across the transparent screens of personal notepads taking down notes as a camera-armed drone hovered nearby holding a constant frame on the mostly empty seats and the speaker and his victim down below.

The scene in its loneliness was sad. The speaker spoke in a loud booming voice as if addressing a full house. But other than his speech the only other sound came from the hard knocking of his boots on the hard-wood floorboards, polished to reflect the white-wash walls of the chamber as they rose, morphed and came to a point in a representation of an old sailing ship's sails. The ship of state, as much as it was its house. Though it was only the galley.

“The malfeasance carried out by your practices has perhaps jeopordized the lives and fortunes of millions across Auslassia.” the speaker continued, “And you seek to continue to sit here and continue to deny, despite three audits by this commission that your company has been acting in neglect towards this government.”

The man seated rolled his eyes. Why the subject needed to be reminded felt unneeded. But the speaker, in his black suit and collar raised up around his neck continued along, “One-hundred millions missing from the health accounts of over two-hundred thousand of your healthcare consumers, money to pay for subsidies provided by the state missing and over two-thousand complaints received across the country on reimbursements promised to them having failed to be paid. Two-hundred fifty thousand potential AND qualifying new members denied their coverage, and many more! Master Thompson Brookridge, time and time in examining audited reports back seven years our investigators have found missing from use public funding. And when I stand before you and demand to know what happened all you can do is shrug, and say you do not know where it went?”

“May I speak?” Thompson Brookridge asked, as the tirade settled. He was a handsome man in the mid-years of his life. His blonde hair was beginning to loose its luster though and beginning to fade to white. As well his defined chin was beginning to sag and soften. But when he went to the mirror still, he found that with the least effort he could still see himself presentable alongside the self-idealizing image of his own youth and skill.

“You may.” the speaker said. Who was close to his opposite in physical build. While younger his dark brown hair was receding. He had a soft frame and was very round. He tried to hide it by holding in his gut, but it was a vein effort that only gave the impression of being a buffed up bird.

“The errors in our financial reports are easily explained. My company has complied with your investigation requests and has turned over the insurance information for its entire two-hundred fifty seven clients enrolled into our plan. We have gone further to provide customer opinion data and Gold Beach Health Options is having its fifth platinum year alone. These charges that you insist you have found are baseless allegations. If you were to correctly read the budget data for the past sixteen quarters then you would have clearly seen that we have appropriately used the subsidy funds provided to us to provide low-cost coverage excellently. The stream bubbles clear, as it is said. There is nothing that is happening.”

“My friend,” the speaker with a disciplining voice, “that information you have provided to us was edited this past week. And to back our claims we can provide, as evidence, the disassociation between your tax claims these past four years versus subsidy payouts from the treasury with the returns you surrendered to us for this investigation!” the speaker shouted. He reached into his pocket and produced a palm-size object, about the size of a round tuna can and turned it on. With a electrical buzz audible in the stillness of the chambers in activated and projected a hologram in the air ahead of the speaker. The projection moved based on how he manipulated the projector as he placed it on the floor.

Waving his hands through the air the speaker touched his fingers to holographic panels and moved them around. Speaking as he did so. In the benches a man leaned in towards Kevin.

“He's going to be yabbering for a while, I imagine.” the legislator said in a drained, tired voice.

Kevin nodded, he rubbed his eyes with his fat hands and snorted in exhaustion.

“Should've stayed home.”

“Then he would have been on your arse.” the other said, “There's no two way around it, the waker likes his audience, no matter how small. I like to imagine he's practicing on live bait before we move onto the bigger fish. Don't you think? What do you think he'll pull out of his magic box later this month in the energy bill, master Whittaker?”

“Empty gas is all.” Kevin said with a sigh, “All it'll end up being. It's remarkable he was able to put in head of any committee. How close again was he with his Honorable Wythall?”

“I suppose he's something like a second cousin, or went to school with him.” the other man said in a feigned interested voice. The words rested there and sleepily leaving his tongue and taking all matter of respect with him revealing the faint barbs of disdain they covered behind. He smiled a little, it was no secret the speaker down below, Sydney Ashland was hardly well liked. A former lawyer, his speaking style was developed in the courts of the cities, written to move the sympathies of the merchant's wives or bankers' – out of hours – sympathies in any level of trial.

The rural leaders, such as Kevin and his partner alongside him, carried the brutal bluntness in speeches that shed pretense or decorum to make drama as forged in the bush. Appealing to no morality but the terror of threatening to shoot men down should they threaten to strike.

“Red Stone kids I guess always stick together.” Kevin said, referring to the premier academy in the country for boys in high-stations.

“Have you heard the news?” the other asked Kevin, interested.

“I've been too busy with business affairs. Someone's been letting birds loose.”

“Shame, well I heard something right ripper from the papers.”

“Oh?”

“Suppose the imperial overlords had an encounter in orbit.” the other remarked, “Heard it from my brother. He was on trade over that side of the planet, some private business. One night he catches through his window an impossibly bright light, almost as if a second sun went off. Says he gets bloody startled but curious, and he goes to see what's what. Claims he sees a fire-ball somewhere in the sky as its dying out. Time later, someone says to him it was a nuke. A lot of military got scattered.”

“Sounds about right for them.” Kevin said, sharing no sympathy with the Cindoyrai. Ever since their use of nuclear weapons in the War, there had been a simmering tension among many in government towards them. With all considered, one who is unafraid to use nuclear weapons is not unlike a dangerous wild dog.

“It's got some talking about the Cyndies.” the other said, “There's some good talk around. Useful gabber.”

(Collab with @Wernher)

The magic of technology never stopped to amaze. In the center of the room was Vermillion Cray, Holder of Power of the Union and also its top general. Both under the virtue of him having more charisma than the rest. Oh Drachma had some too, but he was more of a salesman, he could sell you an idea, but Cray could make you believe. Still, Drachma was sitting in the room, eager to watch this. The whole clique (or the oligarch as some would call them) was watching.

"Alright, I'm ready to get this show started."

Yul, director of technologies, pressed a few buttons, he was the technical one (obviously).

"You will be online... now."

The room darkened, in front of Vermillion, Sahrova Verasha in blue tones. This technology wasn't perfect but still, this was impressive. Yul said that soon, it would be like this person was in this very room, implants in your brain would allow you to even feel the touch of someone else planets away.

"Premier Verasha?"

Said Cray, as if not certain this was actually working.

"Good evening, gentlemen. It's nice to- is meet the correct word here? I suppose it is. It's nice to meet you at last. I was very intrigued by the letter you sent previously, and after some deliberation, I would certainly be interested in your offer.

The enmity between our two species is historically vast, but there is a great threat which has been looming over the globe for some time now. If we don't cast it off now in its moment of weakness, we may never have another opportunity."

Sahrova paused, taking a look at a sheet of paper next to her.

"Naturally the People's Republic would be interested in some kind of defensive arrangement, as while the Imperials are tied up for now they may not remain so for very long. And if they regain control, they will no doubt keep you planetbound for many years to come.

Fusion power is certainly something within our power to give you, and the world. The Cindorayi have hoarded any technical secrets that they felt could give them an advantage in war. However, the critical issue with laser technology which would make it hard to reproduce is the Cindor crystals, which only grow in arctic climates. We can share some aspects of this with you, but you will have to find your own way to store power which will likely be less efficient. Still, having the technology to produce them efficiently with what energy you do have may still be useful for you, so we offer that as a partial offering, commensurate with your financial assistance. If that is acceptable to you, we may move forward."

Vermillion nodded quickly, not taking a moment to think as around him, away from Sahrova's vision, people whispered about the implications of this.

"I only ask that you help us in the realm of the possible. But please! I actually find the gap not so large between us. Really the business of your species was with the Aldabetans. We Kobolds? Well, until now we were on the back seat of the history of the world. We should hate each other because of old colonial masters? No, if the Aldabetans had won, we'd have been in the same position really. But no matter.

This is all, indeed, very much acceptable and I hope you don't consider this all a trade, more of gifts between friends, I truely meant that this money was not conditional to any assistance on your part. But to business we should go. My main points are how to reveal our special status to the world and how to contain the Empire. There are now holes in their coverage of the planet, enough to slip by reinforcements for you but I don't know if it would be enough to turn the tide should they manage to rebuild..."

"It is, as you put it, done business. I agree there is no reason to bring up such petty struggles."

Sahrova waved her hand as to dismiss that topic.

"Of course. If we are to be friends, it is only natural that we support each other in our time of need without strings necessarily being attached. The primary issue is that if you move to support us too overtly, the Empire will attempt to contain you with what means remain at their disposal. Though they are weakened, this is still a futile effort. All I would ask is that you recognize our independence, as you have said you will do, and keep the Empire distracted. If you begin to build up your forces and orbital infrastructure, they will have no choice but to keep an eye turned your way and away from us. No doubt the other powers will attempt to do so as well, mainly the Vaspen and Sumuta. The Sumuta have also been very positive in communications, and between them and you a real containment coalition could be on the way. As long as your forces continue to grow, it will be risky for them to attempt a reconquest. When you and we have sufficient force to oppose them, we can simply declare our shared defense and they will be left without any real possibility of recovering their hegemony.

Naturally, any support you can give us in ensuring our defense on the planet would be appreciated as well."

The look on Vermillion's face darkened as Sahrova spoke, ending with a silence between his reply and her last words. It was of course calculated, in truth, he really didn't care about all that, it was just about how much he could milk this situation.

"I understand your plan, it is a good plan. I have however a duty to my people... While you do not advocate to blow up the powderkeg we are in, something I am thankful that you'd consider, you still ask me to put even more powder in it. This constant escalation of military expenditure... Money better spent on education and healthcare if you ask me. We both know the Empire will not so easily relinquish its hegemony after having fought so hard to get it, 'an insult to those who died in the Void War' I'd imagine they'd call it.

Premier, I am sympathetic to your cause, I am, but do you think perhaps diplomacy could work? If I go blindly with your plan, my people might accuse me of not thinking of their security and say, with some truth, that if worst came to worst, we would all die, signing the death warrant of the Empire while doing so but leaving you unscathed.

Again, I know something must be done and that unfortunately it will require strength, at least a show of it, but even if emergencies after emergencies prevent elections, I still cannot ignore public perception if we go down this road."

And then of course, they came to the meat of the problem, the Holder trying hard not to show the cunning and sly smile his race was known for.

"Although overt support between us would attract the ire of the Empire, it would still show both of our people than it isn't just calculated politics. A show of brotherhood, something to show we are in this together as brothers and sisters... May I have your thought?"

All around Vermillion, the oligarch were at the edge of their seats. Sahrova was just a revolutionary, placed there by force by likeminded individuals. She was not a diplomat, not even a politician. It was time to see if she passed the test that separated prey and predators on the world stage.

Sahrova had a touch of disappointment to her face, but she soldiered on, giving one last parting shot.

"I understand your concerns. It is a difficult and perilous path, the path of blood. Once one embarks upon it, it is difficult to turn back again. But the Empire has been wading ever deeper into pools of it since its creation. You may be comfortable now, but had our revolution never taken place and perhaps in future that blood pooling beneath the Empire may become yours. They are not reasonable. They have committed mass slavery and genocide, and will do so again if you let them. The short term may be appealing, but in the long term we will all suffer at their hands. You are all engineers, albeit of a state rather than a piece of machinery, a far greater task, so you may recognize this wisdom.

In that case, I offer you a new and more ambitious project. A world is a vast place, full of opportunity. The simplest way to show the brotherhood between our two nations would be to bring them together. We would be happy to welcome citizens of your nation for a settlement on Cindorya, under something like an embassy agreement. We would be allowed to connect with your people, and your people with us, and hopefully foster new interplanetary commerce as a result.

In such an agreement, our stance together would be obvious. Any measures of defense to preserve that partnership would be simply that."

Under his breath, Yul whispered 'fucking cunt' or some other insult, even Vermillion knew she basically spat in his face. Even if she was honest, it made it all even the more ridiculous... but no, it couldn't be honest, the way she said 'under something like an embassy agreement', as in something that could be revoked any time. Oh he couldn't blame her, the kobolds reproduced so fast they'd outnumber the local population in generations, forever changing the democratic landscape of that planet. He'd have done the same thing if he was her. But it showed where Sahrova stood: She was a Cindorayi first, democrat second. Just as well, since Vermillion was Kobold first and democrat when it suited him.

"I will do my best to make my people consider your points. Though I don't believe nuclear war to be good for any short or long term goal of ours. Be certain we are your unconditional supporter then and I am eager to see what the future will hold for us, only good things I hope."

Vermillion forced a laugh and continued.

"For now though we're still burning fuel to get up there, my kid in stellar engineering will be happy to know we can put our mass driver ideas to the test without hell raining down on us so trade will have to wait until we figure this out. On parting words though. A gift to the world of fusion technology would be a statement of your generosity to the world, a gift of laser technology to us something to help us keep the power balance back here, but might I ask for insights as to send things in space as a personal favor? I'd doubt it'd help us for the scramble to space that's happening now but in the future I'm sure it'd help make this 'trade' you speak of possible."

The reptile scratched his chin as he looked at Yul with a raised eyebrow.

"Hm. Maybe if the lasers aren't powerful enough to be useful, they could be enough to propel a solar sail and save even more fuel then?"

The question was genuine, even if Vermillion hoped it would make him seem even more of a 'benevolent scientist' for the premier, and even Yul raised a curious eyebrow at this.

"Sorry, just kobolds being kobolds, forgive me for trailing off!"

Even Sahrova could tell they were displeased at her proposal. It was only the natural way of things, as she had little to offer in way of instant gratification or assistance.

"Ah, of course, it's not an issue. I am often sidetracked in thought myself. These are indeed matters of great weight. The primary reason for my proposal is simple, though, and relates to your favor. Fuel is a grave concern for space travel, and the source of the majority of its costs, which is why you are so eager to find a way around it. There is however a project in progress on Cindorya which may be of interest to you in that case. There is a great mountain which we call Mount Fistok, which is far greater than any mountain that exists on Nova Mondial, nearly ten kilometers in height. It quite nearly reaches outer space all by itself. We have begun the process of establishing a rocket launch facility near its peak, which would be nearly akin to the Space Elevator in terms of fuel savings in conjunction with Cindorya's lower gravity. Utilizing this, we and potentially you could begin space construction to rival that of the Empire. Just a thing to keep in mind, as the Imperials and their allies have kept the moon all to themselves so establishing a spaceship production facility may not be easy."

Sahrova nodded to herself, but a touch of caution appeared in her eye. "We would be happy to help with such an endeavor. There is plenty of room for collaboration between our two scientific staffs, and I am sure they can work out the relevant details if we provide a link for continued communication," she replied, not willing to specify further. "And of course, the two technologies we previously discussed will go ahead. I look forward to a long and positive relationship."

"Likewise Premier, I'll put my staff in contact with yours. End of communications."

In the kobold room, the premier disappeared and Vermillion moved his hands on his eyes, looking at all this light gave him a headache.

"Ah! That fucking snake! Sly devil, whore of the dark gods!"

To this, Yul smirked as Drachma shrugged and answered.

"Well, she tries to do the best for her 'country'... but this is just how Cindorayis are, a change of government doesn't change their race."

It wasn't less anoying either. Well, they had gained good understanding of their new 'allies' and some tech to go with that. Maybe they could even bluff the Empire that along with the laser tech they had gotten crystals though this seemed unlikely. Ugh, if she had been a rebel within the Empire proper down here on Mondial she wouldn't have been so keen to not beg for assistance like she should be doing right now. But Vermillion knew he couldn't just force her hand, she could do something stupid, like go for Vaspen for help. It was better to have her stick to the Union than anything else that would be too radical.

"So we have that option. I don't think the colonists would betray us, likewise they couldn't compete with us in the colonial rush to to their low population, they have an entire planet to populate before they need to expand. Still... there may be more gains to be had elsewhere."

Tannhauser was right, it was the 'safe' long term approach but... democratization of space wasn't desirable. In the slightest. Mistakes now could be felt for generations. Finally, Vermillion nodded.

"Fine. Send report as to what transpired to Guno for the imperial negotiations."

---

"So, Anya, what do you think?" Sahrova turned to the Foreign Commissar.

"You're a beautiful, naive fool, you know that?"

Sahrova practically sputtered in surprise. "What on earth do you mean?"

"Anyone could tell they were trying to grab anything they could get. Only reason I didn't stop you was the same reason you were trying it. If the kobolds and Imperials end up fighting, and the kobolds have better tech, hopefully they stayed distracted. But you should really promise less next time. If you had tried to give them plasma thruster technology, I would have seriously had to have pretended that your father was dying and you had to go or something."

"If only," the Premier whispered under her breath. Anya caught it, but she didn't pry. "Anyway, here's hoping they mean at least a little of what they say. I never trust a kobold, but maybe you'll have better luck."

Pokash (hatalmawsh for 'big country')
A nobash (hatalmawsh for 'big living tree') in the Big Dry Region
January 3rd, 2057 (the globally-adopted calendar proved to be more convenient than a more traditional system under which every month was 'big month' or 'bigger month')

"Liftoff liftoff liftoff liftoff liftoff."

Lizard Woman Keshesh cheered with her brood of five healthy young trips. Hatalmawsh young were called trips because they were small and had a tendency to get underfoot; today, however, the five children felt bigger than the entire world, for their great country of Pokash had finally taken the next vital step towards conquering the universe. They watched on the television as the satellite's rocket engines forced its crude body into space, much as a toddler forces a cube through a round hole.

Hatalmawsh, like big hairballs on stilts, could not be said to be beautiful, but among her own kind Lizard Woman Keshesh would have been a real neck-turner, if hatalmawsh had necks to turn. Her stench, assured her collection of suitors, who were doubtlessly watching the liftoff from their prison in the tar pit outside, was a potent insecticide for miles around. As it were, Lizard Woman Keshesh looked more like three soda straws stuck into a moldy potato than anything that would win a Miss Nova Mondial pageant. Nevertheless, this woman, the beauty of her race, only had eyes (three of them, one on each side) for one man - Big Man Shakashosh, one of the nation's 17 Big Men, powerful and large hatalmawsh who ruled each of its 17 regions and made all the big decisions.

Lizard Woman Keshesh, skilled in the art of the man (even throwing paint at a wall is art), could have chosen any of the nation's Big Men to be her groom. She watched as the satellite's rocket engines continued to roar into the heavens. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that Big Man Shakashosh, the one she had chosen as the victim of her love, was currently one of the farthest people aways from her. Lizard Woman Keshesh brushed a clawed hand tenderly over the television screen. So smart, her Shakashosh, so wise, so very sizable; if anyone could conquer space, it was him.

"IT'S BEAUTIFUL," sighed Lizard Woman Keshesh with a voice that would be considered by most civilized nations as 'cruel and unusual punishment.' "WAVE TO YOUR FATHER, CHILDREN. WAVE FASTEEER!"

As the five young trips giggled and roared and flailed their limbs at the TV screen, the satellite exploded. Lizard Woman Keshesh gasped and put a fist through the screen. "THAT'S ENOUGH TV FOR TODAY, CHILDREN. GO STEAL TONIGHT'S BEDS." She paced the room, pondering the consequences, as the little trips raced eachother away down the stairs. That was the eighth failed launch this month. But they had to get it right eventually. If you throw enough things at the wall, one of them will eventually stick.

In the meantime, Lizard Woman Keshesh would need a new husband. She peered out the window to the prison tar pit outside, where her suitors waved self-consciously from among the tortured screams of the city's criminals, vagrants, and nearsighted (the tar pit is located in the center of the street). She sighed. Her Shakashosh had lasted ten days in the pit to prove his love, longer than anyone else she'd known. Who else was so big, so strong, so heat-resistant? She'd have to search the world to find a man like that.

Search the world... Now that was an idea...

Lizard Woman Keshesh smiled. If her brain had been a whiteboard, it would have shown the words 'ROCKET EXPLOSION' and 'SCAPEGOAT' and 'INVASION' and 'KIDNAPPING LARGE OFFICIALS ONE-BY-ONE' written in block letters, underlined, and connected in messy concentric circles. It was the makings of a perfect plan, the kind of plan that was whispered just out of the audience's hearing, the kind that such a high-ranking woman might even be able to pull off. Lizard Woman Keshesh stole her bed but lay awake most of the night scheming and scratching her parasites. It was high time the hatalmawsh went to war.

Unknown Region, Sublayer Unknown

"And you're sure she'll work with us, Artyom?"

"I'm positive, Batzko."

"We may need to break her in, if she refuses."

"She'll understand. We just need to pull the wool from her eyes."

Artyama awoke, vision still dazed from the strike to her head. There was barely any lighting in this new place she was brought to. Rather than steel plating and Dobrevirite-powered beams of light, there were walls of stone and Dobrevirite-lit lanterns. In front was a large campfire, where the two male voices were coming from. One was distinctively her brother. The other, however, she did not know.

One of them rose up from their place, stepping over towards her. Adrenaline quickly struck, wriggling around in her place as she tried to escape. Her wrists were tightly cuffed, as were her ankles. There was a cloth wrapped around her mouth, keeping her silenced. What are they going to do? Are they going to kill her? Even worse? The thoughts rushed to her head, still trying to break from the hard chains at her hands, to no avail. Her internal questions were answered when she was brought upright, resting against the wall. Artyom quickly rushed to the other Wojteki's side, holding her shoulders down as the one called Batzko looked her over. The goggles on his head were cracked in both lenses, and the hair on top of his head was shaven off, in comparison to the rest of his attire. Nothing but a synthetic leather jacket and puffy wool pants to keep warm. He wore a revolver at his side, resting in its worn holster. Looking off to the side, he motioned to something out of her view. A door creaked open, the sound filling the cavern, and up she was brought, being dragged along by the two Rovers.

She shut her eyes. It was all a dream. It was just a drunken stupor, and Kramov was dragging her back to her onyovka, the tiny apartment so many Wojteki lived in, bearing only a bed, a desk, a television screen, lighting, and a closet. She could not hold her alcohol as well as the other women, yes, that was her reasoning. She was just drunk.

And then she sobered up as soon as she was brought face to face with a television screen. Her hands were still cuffed, although they were now stuck behind the chair she sat in. A screen was brought down, and a projector was flipped on, starting with one scene.

There were a few heavily-armored Wojteki sitting at a table, enjoying their cups of wojka and laughing with delight. It looked normal enough to Artyama, but it shifted immediately to something distateful. It zoomed out to show dens and barrows full of cramped, suffocated Wojteki, white hides covered in blood, arms reaching out to try and dig for air. All the while, the cheerful soldiers partied above them, on the surface below ground.

"This is your General Staff. The ones who control the Dominion." Batzko spoke up, pointing a stick at the top of the diagram, then dragging it downwards to the overly minute yet detailed amounts of the dead. "These are the 'loyal, brave soldiers' who risk their lives every day, to keep the Dominion alive. And what do they get?" Artyama was suddenly pushed forward, face-to-face with the diagram. "Have you not heard of District 5? When they rebelled against the Gentafers during the Void War? How they died, choking to their last gasps, because they refused to live any longer in isolation? How they wished to see the sun and moon rise in conjunction, across the sky?"

She shut her eyes. This was all a lie. There was still a District 5, still people living there. There was no way they suffocated, in such an area. "And how many perished? When they finally went down and took their tally, it was twenty-five thousand. Men, women, children, all of them. Those they found with air masks they shot under the charge of treason. Those who committed this atrocity swore never to speak of it." Batzko suddenly stood in front of her, towering over with a glare. "I was a Kamra on 'clean-up duty' that day. The purge of District 5 is something you would not find in the archives, nor spoken of by your relatives. To go against the Gentafer is treason. To go against the Supreme Commander is treason. To be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, is treason. For that matter is why we are Rovers."

Artyama's eyes came alight with fury. Rovers. Liars. Traitors. She again tried to leave her seat, but was held down by Artyom's hands behind her. "You may think we are unreasonable. We are foolish, to try and rebel. I assure you, there are plenty like me that are wounded from the actions the General Staff and Supreme Commander have taken against their own subordinates. You do not simply go through life, without incident." Batzko went over to the projector, flipping to the next slide. Now in front of her were two faces: one of Carpulski, and one of Szachslaszi, greatly exaggerated in features to look like demons. Underneath them was a single word: "Tyrants."

"Did you know Supreme Commander Carpulski frequently ordered death sentences on Wojteki who sought to establish trade with the Vaspenians and Tari? No one was safe. The lowliest worker and the most loyal Gentafer were at risk of an execution. Those years after the War of the Fangs became known as the 'Crimson Months', with how many were killed." The presentation stick tapped against the torn-up, wretched face of Carpulski, then moving to the red-eyed, clawed mug of Szachslaszi. "This svolich is why we are here. In 2040, he ordered the purge of District 16, an upper-class area set only for Kaptensks and their families. When it was completed, he turned the entire area into his personal home. Every hallway, every piece of technology, going to waste while he lingers somewhere within. In 2050, he ordered the death of Orshak, a Pova of fifteen years, for agreeing to give fuel to a Tari merchant caravan. In 2055, he limited the amount of children to be bred per family down to two; any more would be left out on the surface to die, because he himself lost all of his children during the Void War. Now, about the purge of District 5..."

The information was too much for Artyama to handle. She shut her eyes, reminding herself again and again. It was all a dream. It was all a dream...

District 5
2040

"Kamra Batzko! Why have you not cleared this room out?!" The broad-hatted Kaptensk shouted at the goggled Kamra. The smell of smoke was heavy in the air, emanating from various onyovkas in the hallway. The latter held a flamethrower in his hands, one finger parallel to the trigger pump, while the other held the handle. The pump was connected to a snaking wire, where two Dobrevirite-powered tanks were placed within. They were guarded by the heavy steel capsule, with only a thin slit to denote whether they were active or not. In the hands of a professional, it was a deadly close-quarters weapons, capable of searing down to the bone. In the hands of the young Batzko, however, he could not use it for his life.

"T-There's a family that's still alive, Kaptensk! I-I--"

"If I must, I'll deal with them myself!" The larger Wojteki almost opened the doorway, until Batzko forced himself through, coming face to face with the family. The Kaptensk slid from around the Kamra, loading a clip of six bullets into his revolver while he spoke. "By the order of Supreme Commander Carpulski, as citizens of District 5, you are sentenced to death for treason and..." He went silent. The two adults, husband and wife, were both riddled with bullets. Possible they were already dealt with by a previous crew. The child cried, pulling at its mother's hands, repeating over and over. "Mama, mama..." A tear dragged down Carpulski's eye, only to hear a bang. He shut his eyes, the Kaptensk walking away with one order: "Do your job. Not a shred of mercy for traitors to the Dominion."

Unknown Region, Unknown Sublayer

"I left for the surface shortly afterwards. After what I had done, I sought death." Batzko was now sitting in a chair, the projector turned off, facing Artyama, who had calmed down. There were also tears in her eyes, biting into the binding at her mouth. Artyom patted her on the shoulder, trying to keep her comforted.

"I went out into the Isalkan land, trying to find some animal to maul me down. And then the Rovers found me. We all told the same stories, purges of families and former soldiers, executions out of spite rather than denying duty, deaths of the innocent than the guilty. Whenever there is a tragedy, there is comm silence. When it ends, things continue as normal. That is how life is underground, is it not?"

Artyama lowered her head, shaking it gently. Batzko stood up, returning his seat to a nearby chair as he looked around the room. "It is why you came after Artyom, is it not? A Gentafer wanted him dead for insulting his intelligence, and he fled to us." Reluctantly, she nodded once, with the former Kamra continuing. "Petty things over heavy prices. This is why we are Rovers. When we kill the General Staff and the Supreme Commander, we will restore the Dominion to its rightful place. No longer will tyrants rule over the rest of our race. We as individuals will rule over this continent, and we will restore what is right to the world."

Finally, Artyama was unlocked from her chains, tearing the cloth from her mouth and allowing her to speak. "And what are you supposed to replace the Supreme Commander and the General Staff with?"

Batzko only gave a short response. "The people."

District 16, Sublayer X

So here I am, Dobryski thought to himself. Face to face with the Supreme Commander himself, in the dreaded District 16. Ever since it was set up as the central information station, it was assumed everything would be automated. Yet, there was no sign of machines running across computers, checking and cross-checking data and locations. It was completely abandoned, except for a stream of lights leading him along the way. Just to calm his nerves, he withdrew his cigar and lit it with a shard of Dobrevirite, inhaling and exhaling.

The light seemed to go on forever, moving from corridor to corridor, until at last he was in front of an elevator. It looked to be non-functioning, until it powered on. By itself. The doors opened up, and he stepped inside, shutting tight as it slowly rolled downwards. It felt like time had stopped, as he waited for the elevator to halt. Was it even moving? It would be unsurprising if it was stuck, given how decrepit the whole place was.

Thankfully, he was patient. Minutes rolled by, and at last he was at the deepest part of the Dominion. There was darkness all over the outside of the elevator, not enough for its lights to pierce through a foot of it. But, he had to persevere. The floor markers shone, continuing to guide him through the area. If he did not know any better, it was likely he was in a cave. There were the distinct sounds of water dripping onto stone, and rocks shifting in place as spikes of Dobrevirite jutted forward from the planet's mantle. However, something snagged into his foot and tripped him over, pushing himself back onto his feet and bringing the metal up to check. An inactive computer. Old technology, with the screen built into a hefty machine full of buttons and measuring devices. Was this a technological graveyard, he wondered?

Suddenly, a light shone brightly from the other side of the vast room. He had to keep following, regardless of whatever was in his path. Safely and surely, he made it to the light, and stepped inside.

An entire room full of computer screens, with millions of small, mechanical constructions working from screen to screen, pressing buttons and scanning what was in them. From what he could see, there were a few that focused on Wojteki that were asleep, with one or two spending time with their children. Each robot worked a separate room, constantly searching for something, either contraband or dissenting material. That was what the TV was for, in his room. Much like the robots, there were millions of wires running through the whole complex structure, leading up and up into the ceiling, where it was dimly lit further upwards. Everyone in the Dominion was under surveillance, and not a single person given their privacy.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A voice snapped Dobryski's attention to the middle of the room, where the Supreme Commander himself was seated. He was surrounded by various screens, large and small, with wires leading into the arms of his seat. "Yes, Supreme Commander." Dobryski responded, walking over to the chair. "I am here, as ordered."

February 2057
Union of Kor

Capital City
The capital city had been abuze with activity after deciphering what the data from orbital station and news of PRC formation reached the Union of Kor. Outside the city beyond the slums stood a tall missle looking craft. The Union of Kor saw the events last month as signaling it was time for the tari to capture rightful place in the stars. A room within palace set up for broadcasting stood High King Van'kor who was speaking to two dozen tari in spacesuits shown on a screen off to side. Far off in a building where rocket was set up the two dozen tari ready to go into space looked upon image of the High King in full ceremonial garbe. A golden crown with many precious jewels upon Van'kor head while also in view elaborate jacket with gems interwieved along with gold and a flowing purple cape.

Van'kor "You twenty four are to show the determination and strength of the tari! You were chosen from birth to be trained for
this honor. It is true that you all will die but your names will live on in tari history. You twenty four shall become
legends!"

The crowd of twenty four tari would cheer from the praise they got. It was no secret that Union of Kor would sacrifice many to just push boundries of science when they seeked advancement. These twenty four tari construction workers all were trained to work in space and would ride the prepared rocket into space. The Union of Kor desired a station to construct a large modular station for many years but always kept public ambitions for space quiet. Rocket set to launch into space was one of a set of six across Union of Kor in project called Pillar. Project Pillar woud first start with a crew rocket containing a fission reactor for the station and the crew along with six months of supplies for them. The five other companion rockets were set up to launch in sequence over the course of month as the payloads of the five were the parts to construct the central pillar. Once in space the supply rockets loads would be tethered to reactor. After six months a resupply rocket would be shot up with more supplies meant for the workers. Project Pillar was with zero plans to ever retrieve the workers, they were to die in space after finishing the central pillar of station within a year. The workers were to be worked to deaths yet they still cheered as High King would salute them and screen cut off.

Van'kor "I will be returning to my office now, keep the broadcast equipment set up just encase. I wish to watch the
launch from a view."

High King Van'kor would unbutton his ceremonial jacket with attached cape tossing it aside then would set crown upon desk. He would go to get his bottle of drink and just drank directly from the bottle as he went to look out his window. It was a big gamble how the other species would see tari suddenly pushing a large amount of resources into space. It would be clear to other countries that the tari had to of been stockpiling the resources for this since at least the Void War if not longer. If this failed the High King would of wasted enough Union of Kor resources that it would take years to build up the materials to attempt this again if it could be attempted again by the tari. Overpopulation and large scale povery in lower castes had been ignored to focus on preparing for this day. Then was matter of phase two, construction of ring segments on surface that would be sent up at later date to form a habitatal ring that rotates around pillar. Union of Kor simply lacked the industrial might and resources to produce the ring segments quickly, would take a decade at best but estimates currently gave even longer. The industrial might of the tari was not equipped to handle this undertaking alone without risking a end to the 120 year long streak of internal peace. High Van'kor would watch the rocket in distance shoot into sky.

Van'kor "A lot of work ahead trying to get more trade in motion... heh... good thing I have officials for that. "

After a long swig of bottle Van'kor would walk back to his desk and picked up his phone. Normal procedure wouldn't be fast enough so he would expedite the process of informing officals to get trade deals by skipping some steps. Normally this was a process of physical letters being sent out but that would take several days.

Underground Military Research Facility
Deep underground in a retrofit mine was the heart of tari government approved research. The mine was actually underneath the capital city of Union of Kor. Before the city had been turned into capital it had the largest and deepest mine ever dug by the tari. Deep inside the retrofit mine a tari general in full uniform along with several guards would step out of elevator. The guards would go to head to a door labeled barracks to check in for new shift while general walked to a security door. Two guards stationed at the door would salute the general. General Hoj had been highest ranking officer in Union of Kor army for fifty years. The long faced tari walked with a obvious limp having a prosthetic leg replacement and was missing his entire left arm, Hoj did not have a prosthetic instead leaving the sleeve empty.

Hoj "Where did I put it..."

General Hoj would check his pockets until he found a card which he would slide through security lock. After a moment the door would beep opening up. He would walk into a chamber and door would close before spraying the chamber causing the general to cough.

Hoj "Ancestors... I'll never get used to that."

As the general exited out into hallway a second set of guards would salute him. General Hoj would return the salute. Tari military salute being beat chest once with a closed fist then extend the fist outward at a slight angle. The general would follow the path labeled 'medical studies' where the majority of modern tari prosthetics and other medical advancement had come out of in last thirty years. A door would open and general would step into a lab.

Buvi "Ah! General Hoj, right on time for your appointment."

Doctor Buvi head of research for the medical studies wing of research facility. She was a long faced tari that was only seventy two years old and lead developer of the current artifical heart that has been undergoing trials for last decade. Her white lab coat had various grease stains on it. The lab looked far from a medical one with mechanical tools and equipment just everywhere. She would rise up from her chair going to start unbuttoning the generals jacket.

Hoj "Before you ask, has been no irritants and I have done best to keep it dry."
Buvi "Good good, this prototype advanced chitanite socket is the next breakthrough in prosthetics I tell you. Today Hoj you
will walk out with two arms! Or tomorrow depending on how long it takes to callibrate the arm. Maybe longer!"

General Hoj would let out a sigh as jacket came off revealing heavy bandaging over where his left shoulder would be. It had been almost around fourty years since he had lost his arm and using his influence had got himself into trial for new experimental prosthetic. For better part of three years he had undergone a dozen surgeries to reinforce his spine with chitanite for what was to come. The spinal surgery having originally been created solely to fix broken back of a tari when it was beyond how it could heal naturally. As Doctor Buvi would use scissors to cut away the bandages the left shoulder of Hoj was revealed, it was a rather complex socket where a shoulder should be. Truth be told Hoj had only just met the requirements for the surgery as he luckily had decided to keep his left shoulder back when doctors amputated his mangled arm.

Buvi "Clean? Yes it is clean, good. No swelling around the socket, very good. Hoj you are going to be the first! The fools
studying eggs miss the point, chitanite is strength of the tari. Now onto the table, go go."
Hoj "Normally I wouldn't put up with being bossed around."

Doctor Buvi would let out a laugh then jumped into her chair turning to grab controls. A mechanical arm would lift up a rather clean looking prosthetic arm. Was little attempt to make it pass for realsitic as the sleek white plastic covers over more delicate mechanical parts gave a very robotic feeling. One of a kind constructed for General Hoj. Buvi would guide arm into position then in a swift motion shot the arm into socket, a mechanical clang as the arm locked into socket. A few curses escaped Hoj then the doctor got up from her chair.

Buvi "Up! Up up. Need you sitting up for calibrations."
Hoj "Ugh... you didn't say it would hurt."
Buvi "Vibrations were likely to bother bones when prosthetic was attached but did not know. Didn't want to say so would get a
geninune response."
Hoj "...anyway lets get this over with."
Buvi "First you get my gift?"
Hoj "Jacket pocket, really need to get out more."

Hoj sat up with a grunt and looked at his arm, it felt odd to have so much weight on one side. Meanwhile the doctor was quickly checking the generals jacket pockets until she found her prize, a pack of cigs. She laughed and did a little jump before falling into her chair and spinning in chair.

Buvi "Glorious! They don't let doctors take these into the facility."

The general would let out a grunt indicating he wanted to get on with it. Doctor Buvi nodded taking a cig from pack and lighting it. After taking a long drag she rolled chair over to the general and popped bicep cover to plug in several wires then rolled back to a computer screen.

Buvi "Now... the boring work begins. Act like your moving your left arm."
Hoj "Nothing is happening."
Buvi "No no! Visualize yourself moving the arm you lost. I need your nerves to send singals to receptors in the socket so they
activate motors in your new arm."
Hoj "Oh..."
Buvi "Yes! Like that, now through trial and error we are to calibrate each receptor."
Hoj "Doesn't sound like it will take long."
Buvi "Hahaha! With readings now your stuck with me for next few days. The amount of calibrations this will take will be... a
lot. Your prototype arm and socket is two to five years down the line from actually being something regulars get."

Was a sigh that came from general as the two began to work. General would move his prosthetic arm then doctor would work on computer and repeat that. With how the arm would move indicated that the good doctor and general would be stuck together for a while. For a long time tari had used chitanite fused to bone to act as a anchor for socket to lock in simple prosthetics though the prototype Buvi has been working on was one of a kind.

January 2057 (Veluca) Collab with Vicker.

Most of Veluca was a dark and poverty stricken urban hellscape. Most but not all. Like in any society, some did better than others, it just happened that the gap between those people was bigger here than anywhere. Drachma Heavy Industries did what it could to help gather talent where it could and so, a luxurious lifestyle and work environment for its elite engineers and corporate officers was provided. Between here and the embassy however, Princess Lucina didn't even have to see the dirt and the grim of the 'real' Veluca, only the gilded land of the rich and the powerful, those closest to the Holder and this clique of oligarch. The limos and cars parked themselves in the VIP area of the parking under a great tree, insuring the Princess, her diplomatic escort and the Kobold special police escorting her were well posted. There was even a red carpet!

The inside was as luxurious as the outside, however the kobolds couldn't help but give outsiders their particular brand of hospitality. It was subtle, but people gave side glances to the foreigners, smiles dropped, conversations halted when they walked too close. They were polite, but boy were they distrustful. The secretary however, did do her job and show a polite smile.
"Miss Lucina? Yes, Mister Drachma was informed for your arrival, he should be there-"

No real republican would call a royal any different than any other citizen though, no matter how good the business was...

"Now! Your imperial majesty, it is a pleasure as always!"

...No REAL republican.

"I hope your travel went well? I heard things are a bit chaotic due to this whole nuclear business above our head. It's like people fear the sky will fall down on their heads! Amusing... considering that likelihood seems much lower now than a couple days ago is it not?"

Indeed, the Cindorayi Empire would certainly be much less able to wave around the menace of retribution from the sky now that their network was crippled... and it did make a good place to segway into the order the Princess had for Drachma and DHI as a whole, something Drachma guessed was of military nature. As always really.

"My trip was uneventful but comfortable to say the least. But on to the business at hand, as you know I have an order for your company." said Princess Lucina, glancing around the room. Upon noticing the number of kobolds within earshot she asked. "May we continue this conversation in private?"

"Ah, looking to buy new rescue shuttles maybe?" the kobolds answered with a sly smile.

"Please, follow me to my office." he said as he turned around and led the Princess down a hallway, and into his “office’.

The 'office' was of course, gigantic, towering over the main building as to look at every departments from one side, and at the magnificent park view outside but all through one way windows. There was already a comfortable vulpine chair for the princess, the oligarch instead sitting on his own before turning around, the chair elevating itself so he may be more at level with the princess. Drachma continued.

"The hegemony of the Empire over space crumbling, what a time to be alive... My government has of course passed a few orders of their own you'll understand, now is a time of opportunity for us all! But I'll always be able to make place for you madam. So, what can I help you with your majesty?" Saying this, Drachma laid back in his chair, awaiting for her words.

Looking around the fairly large office even by her standards, Princess Lucina replied, “I would like you to produce a few different items for me. First, a space station extension capable of docking 5 small ships. Second, a storage extension. And thirdly, 3 small ships. Would you be able to tell me what the cost of this order will be?”

The reptile showed a corner of a smile before lifting open his laptop and writing a few numbers. "Roughly 2.3 billion. Might I ask, within what delays would you like this delivered?" Saying this, he rose his eyes above the screen, waiting for an answer.

“If possible I’d like them in orbit in four months, unless you can get them up there sooner.” she said as she observed him intently.

The lizard stopped typing on his computer to seemingly lick the back of his teeth. "I'll do what I can, but I guarantee that it will not be up sooner. As said before, my government has placed obligations on me that take priority. I should be able to deliver this within the specified delay though. And if I can't, be sure that as per our usual contract you shall receive a hefty reduction of the pricetag as per our policy of 'on time' delivery. This is a special case, I'm sure you understand." It wasn't every day that the Empire's defensive network collapsed. The space ambitions of Veluca were well known.

The princess nodded her head knowingly, the Princess had assumed that they would have ambitions in space. Especially now since the Cindorayi Empire's grip had loosened. "In that case, I will extend the delivery date to 5 months. I shall have my people send over the blueprints for the ships and modules in the next couple of days. But I expect to see same high grade level of craftsmanship that I have seen in the past.”

"Your grace does me too many favors." The kobold got up from his chair, almost jumping down due to his small size, before politely bowing and showing the door. "It shall be done. Might I ask if you planned to leave our nation so soon or was there any business you wished to attend to? The Holder’s 6th son’s wedding is this afternoon if you would like to join us."

Princess Lucina returned his bow, “I do have some other matters to take care of, but I will be there.” she said as she left the room.

Kobold weddings were a complex and large affair taking a bit of their old colonial masters (mainly Cindorayi), their liberators (Aldabetan) and the kobolds own strange roots to blend into something unique. Rather than in a church, the marriage would take place in the male's newly acquired residence, something that could lead to crowded apartment parties but that in this case was conducted in a big country house, or perhaps a small manor, in the countryside of the nation. Who the persons getting married were wasn't important as much as who their parents were, namely it was the 6th son of Holder Vermillion Cray who married the 18th daughter of Bernank Dal Prett, powerful banker of the Union. And where these two men were, people congregated as a vast amount of people who had nothing to do here spoke with one another, including a few foreign dignitaries all standing heads above the reptilian majority.

"To the groom and his wife!"

Bottles of champagne were open as the male in military uniform and the female in a white robe waved at the crowd before it mixed up to converse about one thing or another. When Princess Lucina approached the man in the highest office of the country and the small clique surrounding him, there was as usual a silence of the conversation as the group opened for the Princess to face Vermillion, who honestly looked a lot like any other kobolds without the large blue silken belt across his chest telling of his position of Holder.

"Ah, Princess Lucina, what a pleasure to see you here, are you enjoying your evening?"

"I am Mr. Cray. It is quite interesting to see your countries' customs in practice." the Princess replied.

Vermillion had a polite smile as the cynic in him took this as a lie. Then again this was probably mainly due to having spoken to a Cindorayi recently and a little because Kobolds had little respect for their own traditions themselves. They saw them as colonial remnants, not really 'real' one could say. So a foreigner with actual history calling them interesting, even if true, only sounded like mockery to them.

"Thank you, maybe I'll get to see yours one day." He answered politely to make small talk. He knew how foreigners loved the stuff, even if he hated it.

"I'll make sure to invite you to the next wedding in our family. I think you will find it a little more instinctual than your ceremonies." she said with a small smile. "But that is besides the point. My congratulations to your son on his marriage, I trust he is happy with the arrangement?" she continued with a steady but slightly inquisitive tone as she nodded to the happy couple.

Vermillion actually had to turn around to look at his son and his wife sharing cake together as she smeared some on his face and they both laughed before answering. "Well, we don't 'arrange' marriages here so I unless I am mistaken, he'll enjoy his new life and his many children! Still, if you ask me kids these days marry too old, I was 6 when I met my wife and we married in the same year! I guess times were different back then, 20 years ago. But look at me, rambling like the great grandfather that I am."

He laughed. "I have 52 children, mostly girls, and... over 600 grand children, I actually forget the names of some at times. Still, they bring me happiness and remind me why I work so hard for the prosperity of my nation. Its all for them." His smile got more contemplative as he looked at his glass of champagne. Slowly around them, people excused themselves to go mingle somewhere else, leaving the holder and the princess alone together.

"My apologies, I meant that I hope he is content with how it turned out." she said sincerely. "But I do have a proposition for you to help keep your nation safe, and by extension your family." replied Princess Lucina

"Oh?" He widened his eyes with some surprise. A lot of people had such proposition these days... though he guessed having a man, his thousands of kinsmen and hundreds of millions of countrymen grateful to someone was a way to extend one's lifespan. "Well, the Union is always welcome of new ways to thrive with its neighbors." He said, interested.

"As you may know my country is severely behind in civilian technology in comparison to other modern nations, especially in our production methods. So my father bid me to ask you to assist us in modernizing our civilian industry, and bringing our civilian technology up to date. In return we are prepared to share some of our advancements in defensive technology, including all research needed to develop a prototype shield generator." She said watching Mr . Cray's face intently the entire time. She thought she caught a glimpse of the gears turning in his head when a small smile appeared on his face.

So they had made their move. Vermillion had expected this, the island had been isolated for so long. Only what he didn't know was who they'd chose to be their patron. They could've gone with the more distant, but still monarchist Cindorayi empire... but they went with the Union instead. Very interesting. "Direct and final. There may be some kobold in you, princess... Well, if you would lend me a better shield in exchange for a better hammer, how could I refuse? We generally try to make our people focus on our nation, but I'm sure I can lend a few experts to show you how to streamline your production lines and so forth... It's a deal!" The kobold extended a small scaly hand to the wolf girl to shake.

Princess Lucina took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “May your nation stand tall and strong for many generations to come."

Late January 2057 (Research, Classified)

The National Research Station, where all projects that have been determined worthy of federal funding are moved to. The station is located in an old Mine under one of the many mountains near the capital. Inside is what seems to be a maze of sparsely furnished hallways, offices packed with clutter, and laboratories whose walls are pockmarked with craters of various shapes and sizes. In one of the more tidy laboratories we find Emperor Wolfgang, and his head researcher. The researcher gestured to a few prototypes laid out in front of them,

“Projects 1-094, and 1-107, have completed working prototypes of their projects. While projects 1-085, 1-067, and 1-099, have made some progress and expect to be completed within the next three to four months.” reported the researcher.

The Emperor just responded with an encouraging nod.

So the researcher continued, and gestured to the first prototype. “This is project 1-107” he gestured to a small box on a pedestal. “It is a prototype of a higher capacity energy storage unit, this prototype increases our capacity by 5% over the previous model. ”

The researcher then gestured to the next prototype and continued “and this is project 1-094” he said gesturing to a set of soldier’s combat gear on a stand. “This is a set of the military’s standard combat gear, however we have added a miniaturized shield generator to the rear of the vest.” the researcher turns the stand around, and sure enough on the back of the vest the scientists integrated a small shield generator and removable battery pack into the rear of the vest. “The shield can be activated by a keypad on the user’s wrist. In our ballistics tests the shield can stay active for a maximum of 3 minutes under continuous small arms fire. However anything larger than a .50cal round will reduce that time significantly.”

“Interesting,” replied the Emperor, “i’m sure every warrior of our great country will thank you. However the progress on the next two projects is what really intrigues me.”

“Of course your majesty.” the researcher gestured to a table by the door, and both men walk toward it. “As you are aware project 1-085, is our own version of the cindorayi’s railgun. Our science officer in orbit disassembled the captured gun on the station, and sent down detailed photos, and his notes. While these have been helpful we have had a few setbacks in reconstructing the weapon.”

“Project 1-067 on the other hand is coming along splendidly. Our research into Metamaterials is progressing, however while a prototype is in the works it will take a couple of months before the team is happy with it.”
The Emperor turned to him and said “is there anything that team has requested?”
“That team has requested a model aircraft to test with.” he replied.

The Emperor thought for a moment before saying “Scrap the model, get them one of our recently decommissioned V-10 fighters to test on. Those things have been in service since the War of the Fangs and should hold up well to a modification like that.”

“Yes your majesty.” the scientist replied before continuing on. “And finally, project 1-099 is coming along as predicted, however it will not be finished until late July early August of this year. They had a little trouble fitting all the armaments into the design specifications.”

“Very good, keep me apprised of 067, and 099’s progress and any requests they make.” the Emperor said. “Those two projects will allow us to reach out and strike fear into our enemies.”