[b]House of State: Ephyra[/b]
There was nothing like starting a morning with a good cup of coffee. Sadly, it was still the horrid subsidy being grown by the farmers while the coffee beans were carefully being cultivated to increase their numbers. After 50 years, it was still proving difficult to grow the damnable plant so many loved to drink, making coffee one of the most expensive drinks to buy in any establishment. Still, it was better than nothing.

Oakland sat in his leather bound office chair, staring past the rising steam from his mug at the half dozen papers he was to review this morning. It was only 7:03AM but he was wide awake and ready to begin his day in earnest. Besides, he had an appointment with the Governor General, and that old Grinch was as tough as they came, not to mention rather frigid in mind.
After taking a sharp sip of the hot liquid, Oakland placed his mug back down gently on the saucer and opened the first file on his desk. Order requests for the authorization of military reconnaissance to be used by geologists venturing past the safe zones. It was roughly 15 pages of jargon informing him about how important it was to check the minerals north of Coalition borders were indeed coal and oil. The urgency for such resources had not escaped the chairman, he knew more than anyone how bad a shape the state was in with the energy crisis. It rather reminded him of the issues Earth had before inter-stellar travel became available to them. Still, such a thing was now out of the question, at least for the time being. After sifting through the papers and making the appropriate signature marks on the hypothetical ‘dotted lines’, he picked up his so-called coffee once again and took another long sip. The next file was on Ergonomics, and the projected outcome of the next harvest. Oakland just rubbed his eyes, knowing full well how much that department liked to stress ‘vital importance over all other sectors’. No matter how many times he told them they needed fuel for the farming equipment, they always wanted to be put first. He just gave a long sigh and opened the file, ready for the long winded ranting he received every year.

Oakland’s focus was broken an hour later by the buzz of his intercom. He looked up, brown eyes darting to the red light on his phone. He reached over and pressed the answer button, composing himself as he always did before speaking. “Yes Mary?” he asked, a refined tone in his voice.
“Governor General Adams here to see you sir.” A soft, always musical voice replied through loudspeaker on his desk phone.
“Thank you Mary, send him right in.”

The thick wooden doors opened to reveal a man no doubt built for the hardships of war. General Adams, a balding and stone faced man in his 70’s. Robert looked at him with a forced smile. General Philip Adams was not the sort of man you invited to parties, nor would he want to go if Oakland read his face as he could other members of his state offices. He gave a curt nod to him before gesturing to the chair beside his desk. “General.” He said flatly.
“Chairman.” Adams replied, marching to the desk ad sitting down in a single, drilled fashion. He cleared his gravel toned voice with a sharp cough and leaned back into the chair. His charcoal grey uniform was stitched with numerous ranking symbols Robert could not entirely recognize. He saw a few he knew from his fathers’ own uniform, but nothing that stood out. The only marking that did was the platinum star cluster on his neck collar, a symbol of his station as Governor General.

“You wanted to speak with me on the state of our flotilla, correct?” Robert was glimpsing over a file in front of him, stating the order of troops currently serving, the condition and quantity of arms and armaments and, of course, threat assessments for each city. None of it seemed out of the ordinary, but something about Adams told him the man wanted something.
The general cleared his throat again, suddenly sitting as straight as a ruler before speaking in his gravel tone. Even then it held a refinement that suited that of old British officers. “Chairman, we’re running too low on fuel to launch more than a dozen of our destroyers. And I can’t even guarantee they’ll break orbit.” Adams lowered his head and stared right at Robert, blue eyes like radar for any twitch the chairman might make. “In short, until we get fuel, you don’t have a fleet, just a big pile of scrap.”
Robert pressed his fingers to his lips as though in an act of prayer. So many resources had been pumped into other departments now in hopes of securing vital resources that the old flotilla had been near enough forgotten. There was little need for a fleet when inter-Stella travel was prohibited. “I am certain once we finalize our tests on the possible sites north of Phoenix, we’ll be able to-”

“With all respects, Chairman, you need ships and transports for that kind of expedition and, frankly, we’re near out of juice. I can’t authorize a launch of any kind without absolute certainty my men will get refueled first.” Adams reasoning was not unjust in his demand for the fleet to be supplied first. This world was still young, and everything had been focused on defending the future of the Coalition from its founding days.

Robert leaned back in his chair, eyes still locked on the general as he took a deep breath. “You understand what kind of position your putting me in Philip. The other chancellors will have a field day and I’m the game for that hunt…”
Adams gave a gruff nod as he sat, lips pursed while he awaited the chairman’s response.
“I cannot promise anything Philip…” Robert finally said lifting his mug and sipping away the last of his coffee like substance. “…but I will see what I can do”