[IC] A new dawn [NRP Science-Fiction]

[Admiralkio]

A new Dawn.
As the morning sun rose on the North American continent, something was brewing. Change was afoot; something big was going to happen, as the massive gears of progress slowly began to churn once again. Four cohesive nations had risen out of the ashes of the Great Collapse to stand among their neighbors: Gaiafirma, Krosniyque The Beautiful, The United Colonies of Luna, and Omicron. Together they make up the few organized governments in existance, and with them, the last hopes of Humanity. Earth is dying due to climate change and pollution, our star is becoming more unstable by the day. These facts lead to our only instinct: to leave our home planet and spread among the stars.
Much will have to be rebuilt and learned, a majority of spaceflight and aerospace knowlege was lost during the great collapse; many of the world's jets are non-functional and the knowlege to repair them doesn't exist. It is basically WW1-style in terms of aircraft and tanks..much must be rebuilt, and those who control what little Pre-collapse technology will dominate.
As the first ones to see the morning sun, the United Colonies of Luna gain an advantage. They are the openers of this new chapter in Humanity.
Turn the page, and scribe the words our our race.

[Inkdrop]

It was your standard morning in Gaiafirma. It was a crazy scene, but Gaiafirma itself was nuts.

On the island of Cuba, now known as Motherroot, the small population that formed the remains of a small town rose and wandered out of their tiny shanties and dugouts and shacks. They looked upon the horizon, then all gathered around the tiny sapling that had been planted as the town's Hear Tree. There they fell to their knees, massaging the dirt and chanting some nonsense about their love and lust for the Earth and their desire to be fully one with the ecosystem and the animals around them, and finally they begged for forgiveness for what their race has done in a voice so loud it was nearly deafening.

A group of GDF rode past them on horses, carrying single and double barrel shotguns. They rode out of town towards a small mountain range, galloping along at full speed with their guns strapped to their backs. The eight men and women wore full suits woven from reeds and vines, and they rode bareback upon their horses. After many minutes of riding, they were within the Mountains.

The eight soldiers stopped their horses and dismounted, approaching the dugout that held what they knew was a rebel hideout. The leader, a tall, slender woman, shouted out, "In the name of the High Chief, come out and surrender! You are accused of betraying him, and our great Mother!" Then they stood. They waited for a reply. None came, so instead they raised their guns and emptied all 13 shotgun slugs into the corrugated metal front of the dugout. Several screams were heard from inside.

The eight soldiers were reloaded by the time the remains of the bandits came running out. Those who were not destroyed by 12 and 10 gauge shotgun fire were run down, trampled, and beaten to death. The soldiers didn't even bother to bury the dead. They simply said a quick prayer, set a fire in the dugout, and rode off.

Elswhere in the small Carribean nation, a group of researchers aboard a former scientific vessel were still grinding away at trying to figure out how to build a clean engine without any advanced building processes. Out of the portholes, the small city on the coast of Puerto Rico was starting to get some very primitive forges, but nothing better. Currently, a group of acolytes were building a furnace, which would hopefully allow some sort of iron casting to take place. That was going to take a while, though. All of the mining was being done manually with dynamite and pickaxes right now.

Gasoline and diesel engines existed in the bowels of all of the ships but the Gaians refused to use them. All of the supertankers, bulk carriers, research ships, and destroyers that made up the huge and rag-tag Gaian fleet had sails retrofitted to them. The scientists had tried extracting hydrogen from the water and using it in one of those engines, but that resulted in the tanker Herrman sinking. They never tried that again.

Some electricity was being restored. Slowly, windmills were spreading across the land, and some work had been done to make turbines to utilize the currents themselves. It was strictly for the government and for farmers to use right now, however.

In the Capital, on Motherroot, the High Chief was in the bridge of a huge cruiser, one of the largest warships the GDF had hijacked in the early days. He was looking out across the land, stripped of green and left as an ugly brown scar. The deck of his ship, once known as the USS Salem, was teeming with sailors and other staff. Many of them were from the team trying to make Gaiafirma a green country, spreading plantlife across the landscape and revitalizing the area. The cities and towns were not much better. They were huddles of peasants in ramshackle homes, with only his military policing them right now. They had only basic waste handling systems, no running water, and no power. He was doing his best for them, but sometimes it was not enough. High Chief Kirman turns around and leans over the map on the Salem's bridge, clicking his teeth as he examined the situation with the country's civil war.

At least that was getting better.