[b]January 1, 2057
The Dominion of Isalka
District 3, Sublayer 5[/b]

"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.

[b]District 15, Sublayer 10, Command Room[/b]

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.

[b]Coast Block 60[/b]

"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."