[b]Allimone Meetings:Sent to all participants[/b]
 
 "Welcome to Allimone, a Planetary State of Zonan. Acknowledging all contacts. Please follow docking instructions to Orbital Defense Station (ODS) Gestopo" said a female AI voice. A video was sent as well, also played in a female voice:

 "Hello and welcome to Orbital..Defense Station..[i]Allimone[/i] You are docking in hangar-bay..[i]37[/i] Diplomatic teams and guards shall be welcoming all participants. Your diplomat is.. [i]Ambassador Kalihary, Comu Hach[/i]....acknowledge".

[b]Colony 257[/b]
 
 Today was cloudy, covering the suns beautiful rays of sunlight. Nearly two weeks ago, factories began to open up like wild fires, production factories, clothing factories, even ANM factories. Food supplies were no longer rationed, clothes were well to come by, and production of ships and appliances was almost 240% up. Money was being well to come by, and markets were opening up all over the colony.
 
 The father's monthly shift had recently turned from mining to worker at the town's nearby military base, specifically the airfield. The boy was lucky enough to be taken along, perhaps one day becoming a soldier for his Empire.
 
 The boy admired his father. Crate after crate, stack after stack, bundle after bundle, he didn't complain. The father was a hard worker. 
 "Can I help, Pa'?" he asked
 "See that stack of crates in that plane there marked food? Bring em onto this forklift, we're taking 'em to the mess hall". The boy searched a little, finally finding the crates, five of them, in the far corner of the supply plane, all marked in a bluish tone, [i]food[/i]. With a little difficulty, the boy managed to lift one up, slowly and clumbly walking out of the plane and over to the forklift. The father followed suit, and grabbed the crate. This process repeated a handful more times until all the crates labelled food had been discarded from the plane. Then, instinctively, the plane jumped up and flew off, all of it's items discarded. 

 When the pair arrived at the mess hall, they could see many stacks of crates already lined up. drool dripped from the boy's mouth, smelling the aroma of stale bread and cooked meat. Then he turned to his father, "What kind of food's in here?" he asked.

 "Beat's me, we're getting payed for this anyways, we should be grateful for that. At least we can get food of our own".
 
 "But what if this food is...different?"

 "Hm?"
 
 "Fresh?"
 
 "Soldiers deserve it, boy, they work hard for us. They defended against the Domu invasion, though you were too young to see that". The Domu invasion, what separated their family. The boy could remember it, even if the father thought otherwise. He could remember his mother's last screams, her death. He could remember the New Worlds amendment: [i]All families that lost a loved one in the Domu attacks shall head to the new colonies to make their own riches, to rebuild the lives of their lost brethren.[/i].
 
 When the father wasn't looking, he ran off to search for a crow bar. Inside an office was where he found one, and he ran back, sneaking past any guards or cooks nearby. Once he returned, he pried open a box, the curiosity killing him. There was nothing but bags of explosives and powders.