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Keyguyperson
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Welcome to Cyberhell
STATUS: So, as an American, what do I do when I need to choose between illegal immigration to Canada and dying in a civil war? 2 yrs ago
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So, as an American, what do I do when I need to choose between illegal immigration to Canada and dying in a civil war?
3 yrs ago
Woo! Got the prick!
5 yrs ago
When you try to write an essay on climate change but it just degrades into angry rambling halfway through.
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6 yrs ago
Conquer it, conquer the bread.
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6 yrs ago
Up until today I've never had any trouble with my EUIV Japan games. Today I got stomped five times in a row before even uniting the country.
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Bio
I'm a weeaboo communist. Are you surprised?
EDIT: You probably are now, but I'm not going to tell you why you wouldn't have been like two years ago. You get to agonize over that yourself.
EDIT: You probably are now, but I'm not going to tell you why you wouldn't have been like two years ago. You get to agonize over that yourself.
Most Recent Posts
Der Grosscarolinareich officially instructs you to perform the following actions:
Cope.
Seethe.
Mald.
Grossfuhrer Punished Pat McCrory marches into Raleigh, NC with his army of redclayshirts and establishes the Greater Carolinian Reich. He proceeds to annex South Carolina and Tennessee, and begins a ruthless genocide of all yankees. Carolinian troops line up on the Virginia border as der Grossfuhrer denounces it as a "crypto-yankee cabal state".
Midnight at the Imperial Diet
The soft, woody fragrance of incense filled the halls of the Imperial Diet. Dim moonlight cast the slightest of shadows on the extravagantly carpeted floors, the only observers of the still sight being the two Imperial Guardsmen standing on either side of a plain and unassuming door. The day’s Diet meetings had ended long ago, and the two guardsmen had stood silently there since their adjournment. Not often did their wordless watch stretch so long into the night - indeed, both expected at any moment to see the sun’s light peek through the eastern windows of the building - but it hadn’t been unanticipated. The day’s debates had been of a weighty sort.
“Seiji, Matsuda, enter.”
The sacred voice of their Empress was sharp, cutting through the silence of the night, yet not so urgent as to provoke worry. Both guardsmen turned to stare at each other, shocked and confused by the order. Nevertheless, they obeyed their Empress, rested their rifles on their shoulders, and opened the door.
Beyond was a small room with religious heirlooms and relics strewn throughout the floor and the smoke of incense filling the air. So thick it was that both guardsmen could not help but cough as they entered. In the middle of the room, surrounded by bowls of incense draped in and atop a plain cushion, sat their Empress garbed in white. A black kimono, which she had been wearing throughout the day’s business, lay atop her lap.
“My Empress!” Said the guardsmen in unison, flattening their ears to their head and bowing as much as their rifles would allow.
“Thank you for your patience. I understand that my meditations have been extensive this night. I believe, though, that I have reached a conclusion. Please - give me your thoughts on the debates of the day.”
The two men looked at each other with hesitation, speaking silently with their eyes. Matsuda was the first to open his mouth.
“My Empress, it is not our place.”
“Who are you to decide what is and is not your place? That is up to me. If you had a vote today, what would it have been?”
“My Empress,” said Seiji, “You speak the truth. Please though, my Empress, tell us why your Majesty seeks our advice over that of another. You have consulted with many wise men and strategists - why does your Majesty need our judgement?”
“I ask you precisely because I have my advisors, and after consulting with all of them and the entire Diet there is still no consensus.”
“My Empress, you seek someone to break the tie?” Asked Matsuda.
“No, Matsuda, I do not. I believe I have already chosen what path we are to take - what I seek is assurance I have reached the proper conclusion.”
The men nodded in unison, “We understand, My Empress”
Matsuda was the first to give his answer. While Seiji weighed the choices against each other, Matsuda launched into a passionate speech; claiming that to vote against the proposal would be disgraceful to himself, his ancestors, and indeed Fuso as a whole. He spewed insults towards those who didn’t support the idea, calling them cowards and greedy pigs only out for their own interests. So furious he was that, at the end of his tirade, he was panting like an exhausted dog. Without words, the Empress took the black kimono on her lap and laid it on the floor - motioning at it. Matsuda sat upon it and caught his breath.
“Thank you Matsuda. As always, you are an honest man. Seiji, what are your thoughts?”
The Empress’ words seemed to pull Seiji back into reality, his glazed-over eyes suddenly fixating on her face.
“My Empress.. I believe it to be inevitable. All we can do is try to choose the right path.”
“What is that path, do you think?”
“I cannot say, my Empress. If we delay, then perhaps we shall fare better, but... well, my Empress, I have many close friends at the Imperial Institute of Naval Technology. Some of their theories are disturbing, to say the least. We are far from the most advanced nation and it may be best not to wait for us to be hopelessly outmatched.”
“If you had to make a choice, what would it be?”
“I prefer a certain risk to an uncertain one, my Empress. With what I can foresee, I think it best to act now.”
“Seiji, Matsuda, I thank you for your advice. I trust both of you with my life, and so I am glad to know that we are all of the same mind. Your conclusions reflect mine, and as such, unless you have any objections, I believe the matter is settled. Tomorrow morning I will announce my decision and my orders.”
The two men looked uneasy at the prospect that their opinions may have just doomed the Empire, but they did nothing but stand before the Empress and bow.
“Well then, I think it’s time for all of us to get some much deserved rest.” Said the Empress.
She carefully and deliberately extinguished the incense, but otherwise left the room as it was. Flanked by her guards, she walked into the hallway. As they drew further from the cloud of incense, the two men began to cough as if dreadfully ill, barely able to keep their backs straight. The Empress just chuckled slightly.
“Men do tend to get used to that particular incense. Don’t worry, the night air will help.”
Laiguantzu, Longguo - April 10th, 1939
A grand procession wove its way through the newly rebuilt streets of Laiguantzu. From its origin, the great battlecruiser Katsuragi, to its destination - the likewise newly refurbished Central Administrative Building. Within it lay the destination of Empress Atsuko, the personal office and chambers of High Priestess Daiyu Nuyiloc Xiaolong. Soldiers from both Fuso and Longguo marched in great columns beside each other, and the crowds of Longzhen and the other peoples of the Heavenly Kingdom gathered to wish the visiting Empress well. The twin banners of the Empire of Fuso and Heavenly Kingdom of Longguo flew side by side at the head of the procession, above the regal car in which sat the Empress herself.
The staccato rhythm of thousands of hobnailed boots upon the stone pavement of the central street echoed into the distance. Alongside the Empress rode dignitaries and ambassadorial officials from Fuso and Longguo alike, some waving to the crowds that surrounded them, while others looked serenely on towards the distance.
As the procession entered the fortified central hub of the capital, the din of the crowd died away, the brightly colored civilian populace replaced by endless dust grey parade uniforms of the central guard corps. Thousands upon thousands of stony, silent Longzhen soldiers stood at attention as the procession neared, snapping off crisp salutes as they passed by. The silence was almost eerie, the din of the vast capital city surrounding this hybrid of fortress and bureaucratic center choked off by the high walls surrounding it that ensured near total privacy from prying eyes without.
The procession finally came to a halt before a fortified building, almost plain in its construction. Another column of Longzhen soldiers merged with the Fusoan guard to escort the Empress into the building, marching in perfect formation.
The interior of High Priestess Daiyu’s home was largely devoid of the regal trappings one might have expected of the leader of such a nation. Instead it merely resembled the average dwelling of a citizen of the city outside, albeit built to an immensely higher standard. Though covered in decorative paneling and elaborate murals, each wall was of reinforced concrete, heavy armored steel plates within ensuring the building itself could withstand even direct artillery fire for a time. The empress and her guards descended below this building, entering a large elevator whose travel seemed to elapse for a small eternity before it opened once more. The room it revealed was far more elaborately furnished, a strange fusion of traditional Longguozhen interior decor and modernist aesthetic coexisting within. At a large mahogany desk sat Daiyu herself, a wide smile on her face as she rose to greet the Empress, her sightless eyes hidden behind a simple blindfold.
“Atsuko, my friend.” She said, walking towards the sound of their arrival and pulling the Empress into a tight embrace. “It is good to have you back once more. Please, sit!” She turned to the assembled escorts and dignitaries, nodding to them courteously. “You may leave us. I wish to speak with the Empress in private.”
Wordlessly, they left the room, save for Atsuko’s own guard, who remained - looking to his Empress for his orders.
"Wait outside Seiji. There's no safer place in the whole country. Perhaps you ought to give some of those wise words of yours to the other dignitaries."
"Of course, your Majesty. I do not deserve such kind words."
The guard bowed deeply to the two leaders, then left the room. As the door closed he could already be heard striking up a conversation with one of the Longzhen diplomats outside.
"It has been far too long, Daiyu." Said Atsuko, taking her seat, "Curses be upon this terrible war, if only I could so much as write you a letter without arousing the suspicions of the Reiyk."
Daiyu smiled even more brightly now as she turned towards the sound of Atsuko’s voice. “My dear Atsuko, it truly has been too long since I heard your voice in person.” She sighed, resting a callused hand on Atsuko’s shoulder. “This war truly is terrible. The losses against the enemy are horrendous.” She turned her blind gaze towards Atsuko, “I haven’t stopped working since the war began, Atsuko. You don’t…” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Already I have heard of millions of my people dead. Certainly - the battles are terrible. But the reports of what follows… had I not heard the stories from my own generals I might not have believed it. They have pictures they tell me - and I… I cannot help but be grateful for my blindness, so I may never glimpse such things.”
Her voice wavered as she spoke. “Atsuko, we need help. Please.”
Atsuko frowed at her words. She wished she could tell her of the debates in the Diet, of the decision the Empire had come to, but that was a secret that had to be kept from all ears. As much as she wanted to tell Daiyu, she knew that if it touched the ears of any other it could be the undoing of both of them.
"Daiyu, my Daiyu, you will have your answer soon. No later than dawn two days from now. We have chosen our course through this time, and I can tell you no else - lest others hear… there are pictures, you say? Photographs?"
Grimly, Daiyu nodded. She stood upright, making her way around her desk and opening the second drawer on the right. After a moment’s fumbling, she alighted upon the photographs she had been given, marked with a specific texture of rough tape for her to find it more easily. She sighed, before returning to Atsuko, sitting across from her as she handed her the photographs in question.
“Here, I think it’s these - though I obviously can’t er… check it myself.” She sighed. “I am glad, as I said. I have seen enough death for one lifetime.”
The pictures were, indeed, what had been described. Smuggled photographs from the occupied southern territories looked up at Atsuko. Emaciated prisoners staring out from trains packed so tightly they were forced to stand upright. Piles of Longzhen bodies, doused in kerosene and set alight to dispose of them. A ravine at whose bottom lay skeletons, hundreds of skeletons, thousands, tens of thousands of skeletons intermingled amongst each other. Atop them lay freshly killed bodies, stripped naked, some of them clearly showing the damage from the machine gun bullets that had torn them apart. The images went on and on, a row of captured Longzhen soldiers with their hands tied behind their backs, slumped over dead with bullet holes in the backs of their heads. Columns of starving prisoners, women, men, and children, shackled and marched along by Alfheicher guards to an unknown destination.
Daiyu waited silently for Atsuko to speak. The pictures were worth more than any report she could give, she was sure.
For a time, the only response which Daiyu received was silence. Then it was retching.
"T… This is… ugh, this is far worse than the rumors. Oh, by the heavens, how? Why? I don't understand, I can't understand…"
She had seen such horrid ways of killing before, indeed her own men had been rather ruthless during the purges, but the scale of the killings was simply unimaginable. Women and children too? And why would one ever have the need to murder tens of thousands of innocent civilians all at once? The Reiyk was not merely pillaging Longguo, no, for such a scale of murders they must have built factories of death.
If the stories from Longguo were true, Atsuko thought, then the stories from the other occupied lands must be as well. And if those were true, then the very same fate would befall Fuso if the Reiyk were to ever set foot upon her shores.
"You are blessed, Daiyu, truly blessed. I wish I too was blind, I-"
She retched again, soiling the room's wonderful rug, thinking of what she knew might come.
"Daiyu, I must tell you. Seeing this… I have to share my worries now. My guards are fine confidants, but they do not understand the burden of ruling. You do. Here, come close."
Atsuko wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, and pulled Daiyu close to her in an embrace. Delicately, she whispered in her ear.
"Is there anyone near whom may hear us?"
Daiyu shook her head, hugging Atsuko tightly. “This room is as silent as the void of space, Atsuko. None can hear us.”
"The Amaterasu and a fleet under her are on their way to the Reiyk's port at Emdavenn. They will strike at dawn the day after tomorrow. Once we have word of their victory our troops in Baishan will cross the border into the occupied lands. In a way I am glad to have seen these images - clearly the Reiyk does not deserve the honor of a proper declaration of war. I know you understand that none can know even that we spoke of this. After seeing those images I couldn't let you go to sleep tonight in uncertainty… but at the same time…"
She hugged Daiyu tighter.
"What if they reach Fuso too?"
Silence elapsed for a time, and the only measure of response available to Atsuko was a tightening of Daiyu’s embrace. At length, however, she let out a choking, gasping sob. “Thank you.” She forced out, resting her head on her shoulder. “Thank you. I and my entire people thank you. We have been almost alone against this… this existential threat. Only Fuso lent us aid, and now…” She looked up, wet patches now visible on the cloth obscuring her eyes.
She said nothing for a time, merely resting her head on Atsuko’s shoulder once more as she took deep, even breaths. “If such a tragedy occurs, Atsuko, then know that every inch of Fusoan soil they step foot upon will be paid for in the blood of ten of their own. Know that there are millions within this nation who will march to the aid of your people in this darkest hour of ours.” Her voice quieted, “And I pray that it may never come to pass. I remember Fuso, when I once visited it when I was young. It is a beautiful land. I pray this war never blights it or its people.”
“Thank you, Daiyu. Thank you. I know not what demons have possessed the Reiyk, but together I swear we will be able to exorcise them. I can see now that surrender simply is not an option. My people will be proud to fight until the very last for the sake of yours - of that I will make sure.”
Daiyu nodded. “I have heard from my reports of what has happened to those who surrendered to the Reiyk. Some have survived and escaped - but others speak of mass rape and execution following capture. It is barbaric. I was reading the reports shortly before your arrival.” She shook her head. “They are yours to read if you wish. I have them in regular writing, as well as my own.”
“That would be most useful. Our commissars ought to know just what the enemy will do to anyone who expects mercy. What is the outlook of things on the front? How rapidly is the Reiyk advancing?”
“Rapidly.” Daiyu replied grimly. “You know well how many vast tracts of land we have lost to them. I thought our armies well trained, equipped, and drilled - but our tactics are poorly implemented, we have trained to fight the wrong war, and we are paying dearly for this. I have ordered strategic consolidation around the city of Zhanghei - much of the southern industrial region has been lost, but if we can hold on to Zhanghei there remains some hope until our new factory projects in the north can come online. That all depends on our girls holding the line.” She stared unseeing at Atsuko, “And I am expecting heavy casualty reports in turn.”
She stood once more, pulling a stack of papers marked with a different abrasive tape on its corner and handing them to Atsuko. “It is… it is disgusting.”
Within the pages were documented firsthand accounts of the results of surrender to the Reiyk. Second Lieutenant Nyue reported rape and execution at the hands of Alfheicher soldiers, escaping this fate herself due to severe injury leading them to believe her dead. Trooper Aranyi reported experiencing gang rape at the hands of Alfheicher soldiers, with half of her platoon summarily executed by firing squad and the other half marched to a holding area. During her subsequent escape, all but herself and a male volunteer whose name went unrecorded were killed or recaptured and subsequently executed on the spot. The accounts went on and on, documenting similar atrocities against the civilian populace. Entire villages subject to these horrors en masse before the population was marched into labor camps or executed.
Daiyu nodded. “It matches with the pictures, I imagine.”
“Yes, indeed it does. Perhaps I ought to have our men change their attack plans - we were intending to only hit their port facilities, but I think these demons should learn what their terror is like.”
“Oh?” The curiosity in Daiyu’s voice was mixed with a strange combination of distaste and excitement. “What do you have in mind, dearest Atsuko? Would it not make most sense to target their port facilities and ships, first and foremost?”
“We are planning a rather experimental attack, focusing heavily on our naval air service and their torpedo bombers. We intend to destroy most of their northern fleet in port, and draw surviving vessels out to fight our combined fleet. As such, our battleships and battlecruisers will not actually be participating in the port attack itself if all goes well. However, if we were to move them within range of the coastal towns…”
“You wish to ensure any Alfheicher living within gun range on the coast lives in constant fear of bombardment from the Fusoan fleet.” Daiyu said in response, “You wish to deprive them of the security and confidence they have enjoyed for so long. To destroy their illusion of invincibility - that is your ultimate goal?”
Atsuko nodded, “They need to be made to understand that they will never be safe so long as they commit such atrocities.
Daiyu extended a hand. “Come, please - let us discuss this in my quarters.” She stood, extending her other hand towards a sturdy but simple looking door in the side of the room. “That office is no place for one such as you, Atsuko. Please, make yourself comfortable.” She said, gesturing towards the comfortable, homey looking room that now surrounded them.
A large bed dominated the center of it, thick, plush bedsheets were nevertheless almost unadorned - for few would ever see them, least of all their owner. Instead of visual decoration, the room was filled with the ambiance of a custom built record player of impeccable quality, playing a soft, soothing tune on loop.
Smiling, Daiyu reclined upon the bed, gesturing to the sound of Atsuko’s footsteps. “Come, let us discuss our plans for defeating this enemy in full in more comfortable surroundings.”
“Ah, you always did have good taste.” Said Atsuko, “Well, in addition to our naval attack we shall begin two simeutaneous land campaigns - one on the island of Kailuo and another in the mountains of Baishan. Hopefully the terrain in both areas will help mitigate the Reiyk’s armored forces. As you are well aware Fuso simply does not have the raw materials to split between warships and tanks.”
She sat on the side of the bed, closing her eyes and sighing.
“In honesty, Daiyu, the Empire isn’t ready for war. I had hoped to have more time to prepare, that’s why we signed the non-aggression pact, but the situation calls for immediate action. We may not be ready, but if we were to wait any longer to involve ourselves then it would already be too late.” Said Atsuko, who then clutched her magatama necklace, “At the very least my people have trained their will well. No matter what may come, the only way the Reiyk will conquer Fuso is if they kill every last one of us. Of that I am sure.”
“And should such come to pass, Fuso will not stand alone. The Reiyk is vast and terrible, Atsuko - but they are not infinite. They must pull troops from our shores for a full, proper invasion of Fuso. If they make that mistake, we shall punish them with all we have and stand behind you as you have stood behind us.” Daiyu smiled, “And should that day come the Fusoan armies will want not for tanks, I promise you that. At present, we are busy re-establishing new centers of manufacturing within and north of the Yachuanzi Basin. We have relocated much of our tooling from Zhanghei, to remove it from the threat posed by the Reiyk salients. All of our focus is on rebuilding our industrial capacity as quickly as possible.”
She reached out, taking Atsuko’s hand in hers. “The whole of Longguo is now devoted to the destruction of the Reiyk. Our envoys have been sent to Akiya and elsewhere to bring worthy comrades into our alliance. Against all of us, their defeat is inevitable!”
Atsuko smiled faintly at her words, “Akiya? I hope they will work closely with our nations. I spent much time in talks with their diplomats regarding the issue of Aelban… and when our armies clashed at the behest of those perfidious Aelbish our survivors spoke highly of their soldiers’ skill and honor. I would be proud to finally have my soldiers stand beside theirs, and more importantly they could be a great ally.”
Daiyu nodded. “It is my fervent hope that they can supply us with tanks, steel, and heavy weapons in the interim. We can recover, but we have suffered greatly.” She squeezed the Empress of Fuso’s hand tightly, her head still turned towards the sound of her voice. “Our cousins have great resources at their disposal. It is my hope that with their aid we will know ultimate victory.”
“With luck we can move the war away from our two nations. The planned Baishan offensive, if all goes well, will stretch the Reiyk’s supply lines thin. We’ve deployed our tank corps to the Yujin pass - the Baishan Army thinks it will be possible to push through the pass and cut the Reiyk’s invasion force in two. From there our mechanized divisions will have easy access through the lowlands the Reiyksmacht seems to have settled into. Tell me - you are far more familiar with fighting in that area. Do you think the strategy has merit?”
Silence elapsed for a moment, before Daiyu sat upright, frowning. “The army of the Reiyk has demonstrated their skill at such warfare, my love.” She said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We have begun to develop some tactics against them - but unless your forces have achieved parity in the quality of tactics and armor, and quantity of supply, I fear such a stratagem might be doomed to failure. We have conducted armored counterattacks ourselves - but the Type 39 has yet to enter full production, and as such our efforts have produced…” she trailed off, sighing heavily. “An assault with light tanks and limited air support against them proved to be nothing but a waste of lives and resources. If you believe your army has the ability to equal them in this, I can endorse it with caution.”
Atsuko nodded, “I am lucky to be able to say that our tank corps contains a number of heavier armored units… and that the officer who created it in the first place is so loyal. I’m sure the Baishan Army would have little luck on the northern front, but at the Yujin pass there may well be a chance. The pass widens on the Reiyk’s side of the border, so they can’t effectively set up static defenses… of course, our geographic advantage in that regard in truth only boils down to making the encirclement and destruction of our offensive force less strategically catastrophic.” She darkly chuckled for a moment, “At the very least I know that no defense the Reiyk can mount will stop the Imperial Army from bravely charging… if only we had a greater wealth of good officers. In truth the armored spearhead plan was chosen because we simply do not have the leadership for a large-front offensive.”
Daiyu frowned more deeply. “My dear - this is not encouraging.” She looked to Atsuko, slowly removing her blindfold and allowing her nearly sightless, mutilated eyes to look on her. She could discern only light, shadow, and the most basic of objects through one, and were the room not so dimly lit doing so would have been excruciating. “You have seen these wounds I have suffered during our civil war. You too have fought in battle. You know as well as I that bravery is no substitute for a properly supplied and lead attack. The soldiers of Longguo are brave to a fault, they have thrown themselves upon the tanks of the Reiyk armed with knives and grenades and destroyed many vehicles by strapping mines to their bodies and lying in ambush. And yet such bravery, such foolhardy bravery, has done little to slow them.” She returned the blindfold to its position, letting out a deep sigh. “Please, do not send your people into a slaughter. Are you sure it will work?”
“In honesty, Daiyu, it has to. If the Reiyk brought the full brunt of its army to bear on Fuso we would be sending children to the front with sticks and stones within a year. At the beginning we will have the element of surprise - our strategists think that we must seize it as best we can. But most importantly... after seeing those photographs, reading those reports… my soldiers must see what the Reiyk has done. Victory or defeat, the people of Fuso must be shocked and appalled by the atrocities of the Reiyk and at the same time they must become accustomed to them. My soldiers must see it all with their own eyes.”
“I see you are convinced, then.” Said Daiyu. “I pray to Tzaiyan-Amaterasu that your generals will find victory.” She took a deep breath, feeling the soft, plush cushions beneath her. “This will be a long war, Atsuko.” She said, “It will not be won through swift, decisive actions. Longguo is nowhere near finished, and the Reiyk has barely begun. I cannot say when it will end - but it will not be this year, the next, or the year after that.” She reclined in the bed, staring sightlessly into a distance only she could envision. “It will consume the world in its fire, or else all will be snuffed out.”
She sat up, sighing heavily. “Please, lay down. Let us take our minds off this war. Tomorrow I will show you our first production models of the Type 39. Let us take our minds off this war, this horror, at least for a while.”
Well, here's my NS. Looking forward to o i l s h o r t a g e s
In
N.E.O. - A Vinto-Futuristic Nation RP (Inspired by S.T.A.L.K.E.R., Half-Life, and MGS4)
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3 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Interest Checks
Alright, can't say I ain't interested. Might write up some barebones sheets and see what sticks to my writer's block wall.
I finally got a call from a job I applied to and I've got an interview!
Been lurking in these threads for a while now and I spent my Sunday playing around with some ideas for sheets. I think I ought to throw my hat in publicly now. Considering a corp in the eastern US/Canada.
I just want to be sure I completely understand this. You are not planning on reevaluating the number value assigned to the FTL ruling, and you intend to ignore many of the fundamentals of astrophysics in a science-fiction world because it clashes with the ruling as currently written.
Is that a valid description of the situation at hand?
This RP is at, like Star Wars levels of scientific realism.
Bend-Serkeft Ring, Capital Station
For once, the chambers of the Civîneşra were silent save for a single voice. It was a rare occurrence for the unruly council, which still hadn't managed to gain the least bit of decorum despite its new surroundings. Though they now sat in a room covered in alien decor from the greatest powers of the galaxy, decor which was supposed to impart a sense of grandness and honor upon those whom it surrounded, they remained the same bunch of loud-mouthed, mannerless, tribal representatives as they always had been. But for the past hour or so they had all been completely silent, captivated by the holographic projection in the center of the room.
It was an amalgamation of news reports from across the galaxy, all about the Commonwealth. To the Bilnd-Sûmangişt, Biryar Arlydlan, it represented the perfect opportunity for the Urdji to withdraw from the treaty themselves. He was already coming up with ways to spin it, how best to convince the galaxy that the Urdji were just trying to survive-or trying to keep the fragile peace held together. As he looked at the faces of the tribal representatives in the chamber he, for once, felt like it wouldn't take much effort to get them to go along with it.
The stream of reports finally came to an end and Arlydlan was quick to get the first word in. In a more civilized (as the landers might put it) government's chambers it would have been a given that their leader would speak first. No such guarantee could ever be made for the Civîneşra.
"As you can see," he said, "we have found ourselves in a rather grave situation."
His words were distorted slightly, somewhat slurred and somewhat deepened, in his trademark gravelly voice. To the Urdji it made him sound wise beyond his years, but to a lander it was only an indication of illness. Many of his vocal chords were paralyzed entirely by a tumor, a rather common affliction for Urdji elders but not quite as common among men in their middle age such as he. He had been born into a small and poor tribe and had lived in their liveship's outer hull, having been exposed to as much radiation as a man twice his age.
The representatives nodded, all following.
"Indeed," said one, "the actions of the Commonwealth are worrying. They are clearly on the warpath."
"And we will be caught in the middle of that path, just like last time!" Shouted another, "I had hoped not to say this, but keeping the Mez-Jemivan intact was the right decision. I regret voting against it."
"We cannot all be right about the future, Vaiger," said Arlydlan, "none of us can fault you for hoping for peace."
"What shall we do about this, Bilnd-Sûmangişt?"
Arlydlan wondered for a moment if it had even been worth it to strategize, since it seemed as though he would get his wishes handed to him on a silver platter.
"It pains me to say this," he began, "truly, it does. But I am afraid we have no choice. The stars are our home, our livelihood, we have all been born in the void and we shall all come to rest in it. The Commonwealth, in their attempts to conquer the stars, is making themselves a threat to our very existence. This madness surrounding the planet of Agdemnar seems to have eroded what little good judgment the landers once had. Neither I nor any of you have any idea whether the Commonwealth will see us as a potential ally or just another stepping stone to some delusion of galactic hegemony. We must remember, to the landers we are not to be respected, not to be honored. They see us, every last one of us, as mere savages! If the Commonwealth thinks that we might stand in their way they will almost certainly not hesitate one moment to destroy us, and their withdrawal from the treaty is a sure sign that they are making sure they will be able to do so!"
He paused, allowing the representatives to nod, mutter, and shout. His words had provoked the exact response he had hoped for, and some of the more jingoistic representatives in the chamber were positively frothing at the mouth.
"The very world which hangs beneath our feet, Bend-Serkeft, was once theirs. And though we went to great lengths to ensure its people were treated well, even accepting many of them into our own nation, a power-hungry and senseless Commonwealth may well choose to use it as an excuse to exterminate our race! Regardless of the diplomatic repercussions, regardless of the morality of such an act, we cannot allow them to construct new warships unchecked by the treaty while we are still bound by its law! As I say these words I wish, I truly wish, that we had another option but we simply do not! The stars are our home!"
A few representatives echoed his words, but this time he did not pause.
"We must defend them! The landers have left us with no other option! They have forced our hand! We must withdraw from the treaty, for the sake of our very survival! The other landers will follow the lead of the Commonwealth, we must not let them come to dominate our home! Our territory!"
The chamber erupted into true and proper chaos, with seemingly every single representative shouting at the top of their lungs. Arlydlan had to try his best not to smile at the display, which was all he needed to know for certain that there would be little resistance to withdrawing from the treaty themselves.
"All in favor of withdrawing, rise!" He bellowed.
Almost everyone jumped up out of their seats, still shouting, echoing the words of the Bilnd-Sûmangişt.
"Then it is decided! As of this day, the Mez-Jemivan is no longer bound by the Treaty of Detente!"
Liveship Leşkgemmar
Hirç'kur walked into the workshop, the smell of ground steel, ozone, and burnt metal assaulting his nose the moment he opened the door. He went through the same motions he always did the morning, donning his gloves, helmet, and wing-sheath. Most of the men at Vekrî were clipped despite the Leşkgemmar's abundant open air, and the fact that he wasn't tended to be the primary subject of workplace banter. He carefully maneuvered himself and his wings through the smelly, spark filled shop to the master's office.
It was a cramped space for Hirç'kur, but rather spacious to most of the clipped workers. They were, perhaps, somewhat more dedicated to their craft than he. Hirç'kur, and his few other unclipped brethren, considered their wings a show of pride-proof that Leşkgemmar was a proud and prosperous tribe. But still, he was young and easily excited, and when his coworkers spoke seriously about his wings they often said that he would eventually either have them clipped or choose a different line of work.
"Maybe I'll be a Ranger", he tended to say, to deflect from the subject. He himself didn't know which of those he would choose if the choice was forced upon him, he was too young still to quite know what his role would be. Some days he wanted to quit and choose some new, obscure vocation. Usually after he'd just read about it on the net. Others he felt like there was nothing he would rather do than work with the Vekrî Guild-at the very least he was proud of what he did there.
"Morning Hirç'kur." Said the master, "Not a good one for me, unfortunately. How're those armor plates coming along?"
"Just about finished the order, master." Said Hirç'kur, "I had the Rangers test a selection last night, they couldn't find any problems. What's bothering you?"
"It's the Civîneşra. They just sent in an order for a new design they want. Planetary transport of some kind, has to be cheap, reliable, and have a fairly long range. Everyone's stumped. I don't think the representatives understand that we aren't exactly experts with this sort of thing. We've only barely started building tanks again after a few centuries, and making any of those damn things work was a hell of a challenge! Y'know, they even want longer range tanks too! Every way I look at the specs they sent it just looks impossible, you just can't fit that many batteries into these things without making them death traps."
"What about those fusion tanks that... uh... whoever it was drew up a couple years back?"
"Too expensive. The Civîneşra wants a full and proper army for cheap, and they're not willing to change supply lines either. Which means that... that weird burning shit the landers use, whatever they call it, isn't an option."
"Oil?"
"Yeah that stuff."
"From what I've heard it's probably best that we don't use it anyways. It kills planets, or something like that."
"How the hell does it do that?"
"I dunno, just something I hear from the aliens that stop by at that bar by the docks."
"Weird. Well anyways, have a look at the specs yourself."
"Me, master?"
"This is probably one of those things where you need someone who doesn't know anything to give you their perspective. Neither me nor any of the other guys here with experience working with the tanks has any ideas."
The master handed a stack of rag-like "papers" made from thick, cotton like plant fibers over to Hirç'kur. They had a number of demands written on them in big words that just reeked of formality. Not the sort of thing Hirç'kur, or anyone else besides politicians for that matter, was good with. But he waded through the unnecessarily verbose documents, eyes widening with each paragraph.
"By Xwêdh, that's ridiculous!" He exclaimed, "There's no way we could build something to these specs that runs on batteries! What about hydrogen fuel cells?"
"They get weak if they get too hot, and they want the things usable in just about any environment."
"RTGs?"
"I actually suggested those specifically, and get this! Arlydlan personally shot the idea down, saying he wanted to minimize radiation exposure! Radiation exposure! Who gives a shit about radiation exposure? That's a part of everyday life, for fuck's sake! A little RTG isn't gonna give you cancer any quicker than the stars will!"
"Well I think we all know how Arlydlan feels about the course of the Mez-Jemivan. What with all the resources going towards Bend-Serkeft. Guess he's planning on having a big chunk of us live on the land someday."
"Ah, like that'll ever happen. Space has always been our home, and the vacuum is the only territory we'll ever need if you ask me."
"Agreed. I respect the man, he won the war for us of course, but I feel like he's got some damn odd ideas. Anyways, what if we just didn't use electricity for the drive at all?"
"What do you mean?"
"Y'know, find some other way to generate the force. Spin some stuff around with steam, maybe? Like those little balls kids play with but on a larger scale."
"Even if there was an easy way to make the steam I don't think that'd be efficient enough. You could burn trees or something for heat, I guess, but I have to assume that would be 'complicating the supply lines' too."
"I wonder what the landers do?"
"Beats me. Maybe they just have better batteries. Tell you what, you're ahead on the armor order so I'm going to give you some time off once you finish it. See if you can help the design boys with this."
"I'm just a welder, master."
"Which means you don't know jack shit about design and propulsion, which is perfect. We're going to need to think outside of the box on this one if we want to deliver-and I do intend to deliver. Vekrî doesn't fail, no matter how unreasonable the demands."
"Well I'll try not to let you down then. I'll do some research on it."
"Just get the armor done first," said the master with a chuckle, "hmmm, armor. What if we used a lighter material for the tank?"
The master took the papers right out of Hirç'kur's hands and double-checked the specs, then tore off a blank piece of the final page and started doing some calculations. Hirç'kur knew better than to interrupt the master after he'd gotten a spark of inspiration like that, so he left for his place at one of the many tables in the workshop.
Liveship Stêgiri
Stêgiri was far from an important ship in the Mez-Jemivan. One of the largest ships of the Merivelaş Tribe, yes, but the Merivelaş Tribe as a whole was far from important itself. The tribe had, however, chosen to move most of its liveships into the territories conquered during the Great War. Their chief had considered it to be an opportunity to grow their tribe's economy, and so the Stêgiri had found itself just a few jumps away from Bend-Serkeft. A few jumps closer, as it happened, to Agdemnar.
It had, thanks to the positioning of its captain, become a somewhat popular stop on some outgoing trade routes from the larger tribes nearer to Bend-Serkeft. More transport ships had docked with the Stêgiri in the past year than any year before, even during the Great War, and what few local businesses existed were reaping the benefits. Everyone from the hydrogen mining crews to the food stand owners were doing the best business they had in years, and the shop of Miss Eşranû was no exception.
She was the (one and only) local gunsmith. Before the relocation she did more odd jobs than gunsmithing as few people on such a small ship really needed a gun, and if they did they rarely needed work done on it. Of course, with the ship closer to Agdemnar, she had started seeing a good few more customers in recent months.
At first they had just been Rangers whom were disgruntled to have to rely on some lady from a former rear-line ship for their rifle repairs, but after the ship and its inhabitants had settled in she found herself getting regulars. Rangers would often come in every so often to ask for a tune-up of their coilgun's computer systems, or a replacement for a burned-out capacitor array. She had even managed to offload her bloated stock of pistols she had made just before the Great War under the assumption that business would pick up as a result of the war. It is a testament to the isolation of the Stêgiri that it didn't.
One day, as the ship was collecting extra oxygen from a frozen wasteland of a world that was the closest thing to habitable in the system, one of her most recognizable customers walked in. Commander Skêssor, one of the Rangers assigned to Agdemnar. He was (theoretically) eighth in command of the entire operation on the planet, being the second in command of the fourth Ranger unit deployed planetside. To landers, of course, the idea of a Commander being deployed on the ground is perhaps an odd one. Even odder is the fact that Ranger units are referred to as "ships" even if there is no actual space vessel attached. Functionally Skêssor was more or less a Major. Usually leaning on the "less" side.
"Ah, Commander Skêssor!" Said Eşranû with a smile, "What can I do for you today? Lemme guess, rails need come fine tuning?"
"No, well, they might." Said the Commander, "I traded in my old rifle for this."
He set a coilgun down on the table. It wasn't the Vekrî arms one she usually saw him carrying, instead it was one bearing the markings of Guild Jist-a Qurtel tribe general supplies guild.
"I didn't even know the Jist Guild made coilguns, have they just started?"
"Yes," said the Commander with a frown, "and I think that perhaps they shouldn't have. It just doesn't shoot straight. The capacitors start limping three quarters or so of the way through a magazine too."
"Knowing Jist they probably didn't put much work into the capacitors, I'd bet you they're the same ones they put in all their other high-voltage electronics but with a few minor modifications. I'll see what I can do with 'em but I might have to just switch out the whole bank with some of mine."
"Whatever it takes. I do like the gun when I'm not shooting it though, it comes apart a hell of a lot easier than my old one. That's the main reason I bought it. Shame that getting taken apart is the only thing it seems to do well."
"Makes you wish that y'all could just adopt a gun and be done with it, the way the landers do."
"Y'know I hear they're trying to. The Bilnd-Sûmangişt organized some kind of arms exhibition, opened it up to all the manufactures that care to show. They say that the Civîneşra is going to pick some standard-issue arms from what the guilds show up with."
"Really?" Said Eşranû, her arms shivering a bit as her wing-stumps tried to jitter to show interest, "What guilds were invited? And who's 'they'?"
"No invites, they just posted the place and date on the net. I heard everything I'm telling you from the Captains down there with me. You know, come to think of it..."
He looked at her with a playful grin, scratching his chin as he left his sentence hang.
"Oh, please. Like the only gunsmith on some rear-line ship could win a competition like that."
"I don't know, miss, I know who'd get my vote for the sidearm."
He patted the pistol on his hip, one of the many that Eşranû had made before the Great War. She'd heard nothing but praise of them, their simple design made them, as Skêssor had once put it, "damn near indestructible".
She dismissed his compliment too, as she tended to do, and started stripping his gun to figure out just what was wrong with it. As she did so, though, she did start to daydream about what she would present to the Civîneşra. Just what would she make, if she could? What would the perfect weapon look like? What would she make it out of, would it be best to use a traditional fiberglass stock or one using more modern materials like nanotubes or graphene? What about a graphene coated stock? Would the Civîneşra be interested in a wooden stock, now that Bend-Serkeft was under Urdji control?
She chuckled a bit at the silly thoughts while she started to lay out the gun's pieces on her table. It was, as Skêssor had said, incredibly easy to disassemble. And, it seemed, rather easy to put back together. A pre-sapient primate could figure it out.
That's a good idea, she thought, shame it wasn't used on a better weapon...
Spîgûl, Personal Yacht of the Bilnd-Sûmangişt
The Spîgûl's shimmering white frame moved silently through space above Bend-Serkeft's lonely, barren moon. And it was indeed silent. Even within the craft, where one's ears would normally be assaulted by the din of atmospheric purifiers and circulation fans, there was so little noise that if one simply turned out the lights it could pass for a sensory deprivation chamber. And despite that silence, the Spîgûl was under acceleration.
Like all proper, traditional Urdji yachts it was first and foremost a solar sailer. Though it was equipped with a basic propulsion system, as were most in modern times, it was designed to be moved by nothing more than the wind of the stars. Grand sails unfolded themselves over and over again, stretching as thin sheets from the bow of the ship while the more solid maneuvering sails and radiator wings opened on the aft. Arlydlan looked out at the sails from his personal quarters aboard the yacht, which were separated from the vacuum of space only by a great window which stretched from wall to wall and floor to ceiling.
He loved the stars. To him they were the most beautiful thing in all of creation, unmatched in splendor by any other sight. The clouds of a gas giant, the peaceful and barren landscape of an airless moon, the sight of the shining lights of Liveship Qurtel set against the inky black of the void, none could even compare as far as he was concerned. Like many other Urdji he viewed them with almost religious reverence. They had been the first thing he had seen when he was born, they were the source of all energy and by extension all life in the universe which nourished him in life, and he knew that his death would come by their hands.
For all his efforts to drag the Mez-Jemivan into the modern era, when he looked out at the stars he always knew that he could never let them abandon their true home. He had heard, on numerous occasions, lander sailors describing how it felt when they first looked down on their homeworld. A sense of wonder, but also of insignificance. A feeling of joy, but also of sorrow. All shared the same story, the same confusingly profound mix of emotions, the overwhelming power of the sight. Perhaps, thought Arlydlan, he had the same experience when he gazed at the stars. They were, after all, the closest thing he had a to a homeworld.
When landers die, he thought, they return their energy to their world's land. When we die we return our energy to the stars.
Nothing more than an observation, at first. A simple tangent of a mesmerized mind. But he dwelt on that comparison as his yacht was slowly pushed out of orbit by a breeze of photons.
Their land cannot compare to the stars. The stars gave the land form, gifted the land with the energy which can nourish life. We return to the source of all energy, the landers return to merely the start of their little circle of energy. And who could fault them? Thousands of years ago we were the same, we knew nothing of the universe beyond our insignificant bubble of air. But we were forced to evolve, to become closer to the source of life.
On that, too, his mind dwelt. The insignificant bubbles of air which the landers seemed forever bound to, no matter how far towards the sky they stretched their arms. A thought entered his mind which shook his core, but he did not ignore it. He could not. To ignore a frightening thought would serve only to validate its every word.
Are our ships any different?
He found no answer. He was not sure what to feel about that. Angry? Sorrowful? Afraid? Perhaps even comforted, or content? It would have to wait for another time, though, as his meditation was interrupted by the hissing of the door to his quarters sliding open.
"Good evening, Xweste." He said, turning to face the woman as she entered. Unlike Arlydlan, she hadn't had her wings clipped. They were certainly handy for traversing the corridors of the Spîgûl, which only ever made use of its artificial gravity system for the benefit of foreign diplomats.
"Taking in the view were you, Biryar?" She asked.
"I feel a better term may be 'meditating'."
Xweste and Biryar, as she and few others knew him, went back as long as they could each remember. She had, on their home ship, been the daughter of one of the bridge crew. Though neither ever quite specified to anyone else how a boy from the outer decks and the daughter of the chief engineer had met in the first place it was well known that her connections with the ship's officers had given the young Arlydlan a way into the liveship's local ranger unit. He had returned the favor many times since the formation of the Third Mez-Jemivan and Xweste was now the "Captain of Bend-Serkeft", in practice a position akin to "colonial governor" or "viceroy".
She looked out the window at the stars and smiled, knowing just what he was talking about.
"I see," she said, "the Chinvat flows both ways."
"The Girigem is in orbit of Kavê-Hişk, and I have received word from Mûcîz that she is expected to give birth before they make another jump."
"I supposed as much. You are lucky, to have a nephew born from the light your father was returned to."
"Indeed. We are going to stop there on our way to Rolvius, I would like to be there at his birth if I can. Such good omens are rare."
"That'll add a fair bit of time to the trip."
"It will, but we have courier ships aboard if we must reach the Civîneşra on short notice. And our business with the Rolvians can wait for a short while, it is not as if your broad-strokes infrastructure project is particularly time-sensitive. And as I understand it you're simply trying to figure out how to manage the biosphere."
"Yes, that's all. There are a fair few examples in the galaxy of worlds being, well, killed off by industrial mismanagement. Or something, I really don't understand it which is why I want to go to the Rolvians."
"Well, anyhow, a short little stop won't put the biosphere of Bend-Serkeft into jeopardy I'm sure."
"Not at all. I do have just one request, though."
Arlyldan chuckled ever so slightly, already knowing what she would ask.
"You want to be there too, eh?"
"It would be an honor."
"I'm sure that Mûcîz would be happy to have you there. The birth of a child, especially one born under a good omen, would be a welcome escape from all of the exhausting political maneuvering we have been occupied with for so long. "
Agdemnar, Dereî Outpost
Dereî Outpost sat in solitude near the peak of one of Adgemnar's great mountains, surrounded by the rest of the range which acted as a convenient natural defense. Lacking any proper ground force, the Urdji had chosen to just try and stay as far out of the way as possible. And that particular mountain, which the outpost had been named for, had presented a unique opportunity. It was bisected by Point Jakurna's shield, which to the earliest exploratory ships sent to the planet looked like an easy way in. It wasn't long before they realized that the shield covered the entire point in a sphere, but the mountain was still a convenient way to hide their attempts to pierce the shield.
It was also a convenient way to hide the outpost's extensive sensor array which was listening in on whatever comms signals it could pick up.
The troops deployed to Dereî were, as of late, getting to be rather on edge thanks to that array. Hostilities seemed to be increasing across the planet, not to mention in orbit of it. A courier ship had been dispatched just a couple days ago to beg for reinforcements as it became increasingly clear that almost every other power had sent a proper invasion force while the Urdji had just dropped off some of their most experienced Rangers.
As a result of their fears, the Urdji had started to construct numerous new defenses around Dereî. Gun emplacements, trenches, bunkers, anything they could think of to give them at least a fighting chance were a hostile power to attack. A number of Xegîn class corvettes which had been deployed for in-atmosphere support fire had been permanently landed in hastily built drydocks on the side of the mountain, their shield bubbles being extended to cover the entire outpost.
Even amidst this, however, one of the units deployed to Dereî was still going about its usual business. Deep within the mountain base, one ensign was trying his damnedest to flap his wings against the constant assault of a wind tunnel's fan. A distressed cry from the ensign for "Rashnu's mercy" quickly brought an end to the fan's motion, and the ensign fell limp and exhausted as he hung from his harness.
"Ensign Neçirva? Are you alright?" Called a wingless doctor as he dropped a clipboard to a table.
"I'm... fine, I think I just-" Neçirva yelped as he tried to move his left wing, "No, I'm not alright, there's somethin' wrong there."
The wind tunnel's cargo door was opened, and Neçirva was slowly lowered to the grating covering the fan by his harness. He just laid there on his belly, moaning in pain, until the doctor got to him.
"Agh, oh that hurts. Shit. Please tell it looks fine, Doc."
The man leaned in closer to get a look at the wing and promptly yelled.
"Medic! Get a stretcher over here!"
"Fuck."
"Don't worry, it's not too bad. It's just a mild dislocation."
"A 'mild dislocation' of a wing? There's no such thi- Gah! I'll be bedridden for days!"
"Look, it'll heal and that's the important part. But I'm starting to have my doubts here..."
"No! It- ow! It'll work... just... gotta get the angle right."
"Fair enough. If your wings heals properly then we'll keep trying. This whole idea is crazy to begin with though, our wings just aren't meant to take that much stress."
Neçirva turned his head as far as he could without moving his wing muscles and looked the doctor in the eyes with determination which, the doctor assumed, only he could possibly muster given the circumstances.
"Like hell they ain't! It's just terminal velocity, we can glide down from that!"
"Can you glide down from terminal velocity after a dozen minutes of freefall, and reentry, and any number of things that might go wrong there?"
"I don't know, but I sure as hell intend to find ouuuu-AAH! Medic, couldn't you at least hit me with some painkillers before you manhandle my wing like that?"
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