[u][b]Somewhere in New Terra…[/b][/u]

“What of the invasion plans for the others?” says a Terran staff officer donned in a full-military grey uniform. He stands inside a small room with a window overseeing a sizeable dockyard. The sight of ships mobilizing excites him. Another war is on the horizon that will hopefully restore the glory of the Armed Forces of the Union. Of course, he also understands how desperate things are - moreso with the failing health of Newcastle, rumors of a potential Storm Guard coup, and the threat of economic collapse. 

“We’ll cover them in the brief. I hope you have been getting good sleep.” says a nearby Terran standing next to the staff officer. The man also dons the same military attire. Restless nights, war plans, supply chains, and whatnot occupies his mind. This is not made easier by the bloated nature of the A.F.U and its ungodly amounts of armored tanks, troops, jet craft, IFVs, trucks, and likewise. It is simply a nightmare organizing everything. 

“Sleep? No…” says the staff officer, nodding to himself. Both men simply stand next to each other - sightseeing all types of military vassals go in and out of warehouses, repair bays, refitting sections, and more. All rushing to meet the coming orders from high-up for the invasion of a lifetime. A war to regain the “glorious past” that once was or never was. A past filled with plenty of horror stories that the two would bury in their minds and instead accept the romanticized version of. 

“The brief is in two minutes. Let’s get to the meeting room,” both men nod and then depart deep into the facility as the metal curtains engulf the windows.