Dinh AaronMk

Warriors Academy: First Grade

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Dark Matters (Open)

Starship Liberty

Stockpile POSADA

The first indication of the approaching stockpile was the glistening light far in the distance. It began dim, little more than a dust mote illuminated by the light of the millions of stars around it and alien sun it orbited, a soft blue bulb dangling in the ethereal void. But as the Starship drew nearer, passing frigid gas giants and their frozen still moons the stockpile grew more prominent against the dark bands of light and shadow in the cloud that enveloped the blue star. Here and there asteroids shimmering with crystalline sheets of ice and raw minerals passed the windows of the Starship Liberty and pruning over their surface like polite bees swarms of small robotic drones carrying away in a thin thread the material they farmed away slowly.

Seated at a small cafe at the outermost edge of one of Liberty's mid-decks Marcus Xhu watched as a held a hot chocolate in his hands as the mote in the distance grew larger with each passing moment. He attempted to calculate the starship's speed, he knew Posada's size well by heart. He had been born there. At a diameter of just shy of 1,500 miles, roughly 2,400 kilometers it was an impressive planetoid of artificial design. Adhoc, built over time, layered over and over as a sphere and spiked with thousands of landing towers bristling its outer surface and hundreds of larger decks that orbited it, ready to take on passengers and material to and from the stockpile. It hardly needed the star it orbited, but it was unlikely it could do anything if much was on the outside.

As the faint mote moved across the window, its orientation in its frame changing with the orientation of Liberty to it, and where Marcus was within its circling it grew larger. The faint glow it emanated changing in character, regions of light and dark becoming more defined as it became like the old moon in old Earth's sky and the antenna that shot off of it like the spurs on a sea mine becoming more pronounced. The vast formless regions that glowed across it became more defined, turning into defined outlines, structures, individual specks of light across a darkened surface. “Well, here we are.”

“Here we are.” Sal said. The two had been seated next to each other in silence, simply watching as Liberty drew near to Posada. Her thick curly hair tied into a bun behind her head, making her face look thinner without it all framing her head. She raised a coffee to her lips and drank as the flashing lights covering Posada flashed and glistened. Where the blue light of the alien star touched the surface the presence of large defensive guns glistened. As well as in silhouette the numerous large platforms adrift in the celestial medium waiting to connect with the voyaging space craft. Many others had found a partner, and the numerous forms and silhouettes of docked starships loomed between them and Posada.

“Approaching Posada Landing 10-105.” a voice said over the intercom, “Cutting axial rotation in fifteen minutes. Please pack loose items into an enclosed space and finish your meals or drinks.”

Marcus and Sal looked at each other, and quickly downed their drinks. “I don't know about you but I have everything packed away.” Sal commented, handing over her cup to a passing waiter.

“You always do.” said Marcus.

“You're not going to get hurt by anything in your quarters, are you?” Sal asked, concerned.

“I should be fine. It's not like a table becomes any more dangerous if it's not locked down. We'll be in zero gravity.”

They remained seated, watching as Liberty came into orbit around Posada. The minutes passed by. Muffled and distant, a soft clang rang through the hull of the Liberty and there was a tactile jolt under them. The motors that kept the starship turning had been cut off, and the decks continued to spin. But slowly. As time continued to pass there came a clear sensation of weightlessness throughout. At their seats Marcus and Sal felt as the pressure on the seat underneath lessened. As it did so, they felt the gradual momentum of the once moving room weigh gently on them and they began to lean to the side. As the room lost its gravity, this was translated into a floating sensation and then they were airborne. Sal giggled uncomfortably as she stuffed her shirt down her pants. The bun of her hair lifted and bobbed with each movement. And it was over, the decks finally stopped.

“Docking procedures initiating.” the intercom spoke again as the cessation of the starship's movement was confirmed.

“We should get ready.” Sal said, reaching about for something to grab onto and move herself along. Others were doing likewise as the people who manned the small cafe attempted to collect wayward garbage.

Passing through the ship, weightless with the others was a controlled chaos. The passengers, its crew all knew what was happening, and orderly they assembled themselves without orders to the sides and made their respective ways to where they needed to be. Like traffic along a terrestrial road, the halls became lanes of separate directions on each wall. In this situation, with so many, there need not be but little direct confrontation to move and control the crowds.

That which were not controlled were the small animals that lived aboard, the birds and the like which soon found themselves moving with weightless ease. A flap of the wing brought them to the discovery of the deregulated resistance brought by little gravity and they'd drift off with naught but air resistance to slow them. At a point, they would clutch for the plants and chirp anxiously as everything else moved around them.

Over the loud speakers a voice issued updates on the current procedure. Liberty was in line. Liberty was being served. The service ferry was locked and awaiting passengers. At this update Marcus and Sal were on their way to engineering with a stream of others down the mighty and wide center axis. The long chamber echoed with the many thousands of voices. In the winding engineering halls, much more so. But aboard the ferry, seats were found and the vehicle began to fill. As it reached capacity, and the request was granted, it detached from Liberty's side and headed down to the spires of Posada below.

Landing with a thud, the ferry came to settle at one of the spires. Frilled with numerous platforms, the spire was home to many ferries like it. And many options. Procedures went under way. The ferry was locked down, a bridge extended, and everything re-pressurized to normal. At the the chime of an alarm, and the flash of a blue light everything was go, and unstrapping themselves from the sea of their space bus everyone was released from their seats and went to the doors.

Unlike the Starship Liberty, gravity in Posada was produced centrally. A sensation Marcus was quick to feel as they descended the landing spire in an elevator. Long windows passed regularly by, he watched as they went down through the miles. The outside universe speedily passing, unnervingly slow. But as the whole carriage came lower and lower the outer structures of Posada began to flower and bloom upwards, the thickly cabled antennas. The outward facing forests of solar cells. The automated hives of the billions of drones delivering in raw material to be refined into usable industrial honey: steel, titanium, gold, and much more.

The windows went dark as the elevator passed through the metal crust of Posada, and for a while there was nothing but the eerily constant glow of the lighting. And then with a flash it broke through, and with a blinding brilliance the world lit up and they were drifting down into an ethereal, enclosed world enveloped by a silver white sky. They could feel the heat of the sky lamps, the soft UV warmth, the infrared, that made for a calibrated environment. Nothing was too hot, and nothing was too cold. The eyes, needing to adjust were blind for a moment as everything came into focus. Far below a landscape appeared, miniature as if a landscape of toys. But all the same alive. Towering ware house structures, massive factories. But large open parks, clusters of homes and communities like villages dotted the landscape like a picturesque story retelling of an Earth that was not.

A sonorous and relieved sigh came over the cabin as the tension that had existed coming down out of space relieved itself and they all began to chatter happily. Many pushed themselves to the side where they could watch their progress to the surface. Distantly, herds of horses and animals move about grazing. On roads cars and trolleys rolled by as heavier trains worked along gentle slopping hillsides between warehouse and manufacturing depots.

“How does this place work?” someone asked, their voice high in excitement. They had clearly never been to Posada.

“On nuclear energy!” someone exclaimed, laughing, “They have a whole core at the heart, a massive one. So much so it produces enough gravity to be like a planet in its own right. Almost a star in its output. A Super Heavy Reactor.”

One of three, Marcus knew. He leaned relaxed against the glass and watched the familiar landscape of Posada draw closer. It was a fairly consistent world. Pressed flat enough to be pleasant, but rolling enough to still be interesting. The only thing that marred it were the cables.

Here and there hanging down like thick vines ran immense lengths of cables as wide as a house. Their charcoal black surface matte against the lights that shone against them. They ran into the ground, where they connected to broad silver couplings and disappeared into the depths below. They were blackened beanstalks, coursing with energy fed to the outer shell. They were so large it was hard to tell as well: were they supports to keep the outside from falling in, or to keep the two independent platforms from drifting apart?

The elevator stopped. A gentle shake rocked through the cabin and the unready swayed unsteadily as they looked up and about from whatever they were doing. The cabin, a great round chamber sat silent for a moment before its doors slid open and everyone could leave. The fresh air was immediate, as were the sounds. The song of birds and the gentle rush of the wind. The passing hum of automobiles and the distant cry of a train. Hauntingly, it recalled memories of a world gone. Even to Marcus, who had grown up here, seen other worlds and other cities, and known nothing of Earth but was written and artificially constructed in the apparitions of simulation felt the unsettled sensation in his gut, in his heart, of a memory not remembered.

“So, should we find them?” Sal asked as they stepped out, away from the elevators. They stood in the middle of a square. Already the newcomers were mixing in with the locals and the crowd was dispersing and mingling. Soon it would be unrecognizable as the atomic parts mixed with the atmospheric noise of the Posada community, “Or should we get a drink?”

Marcus had on him a small thumb drive with the compiled data and a mirror of the hard-drive of the beacon they had found. On Posada there were many who could decrypt it all and translate it into something usable. In the intervening days the navigator's inner files had been decrypted, but the data wasn't in an unrecognizable format. The who, what, or where it had come from was hidden away in an added layer of abstract data. As was the story of the beacon itself, all of which was beyond the independent or loosely collective abilities of Liberty's analysts. Beyond finding or organizing an adventure to seek out the origin, there were those who would finalize the evidence. And who might identify the first steps.

“Or perhaps you could go see your parents.” Sal said with a smile.

Marcus laughed weakly and kicked the ground with his shoe, “They can wait.” he laughed, “Besides, I don't know how much a difference in time we're on now. I don't want to spoil anything.”

Sal nodded, smiling concerning. It wasn't an unusual concern. “Alright, you take the lead then.”

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@Burning Kitty

Aren't they all though?

OK Spam, how is it going to be:

The shitposts of the past do not matter for now is the shitpost of the present, or we need to learn from and emulate the shitposts of the past.

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Pro Patria Mori - A Tale of Sailships and Muskets (Still Recruiting)

@Dinh AaronMkI think it just means we should expect Napoleonic times or something. Though admittedly the reason why rifled guns and cannons didn't spread is due to the pressures of that war and then the recovery from its devastation.

@Willy Vereb

It would much more due to industrialization than war itself. Much of Europe wasn't up to the sort of speed as England was into early automation, and to that point not in all fields. Much of the early industrial production was oriented to the textile industry as was the case in the United States, particularly the north in and around New England; more so Britain since textiles like lenin and wool was a major historical export vs anyone else, except southern France where since the Revolution local Silk production in and around Lyon had been industrialized. Any widespread use of rifling would have been limited by the capacity to produce it, and as you and I both said to some capacity: the relative conservatism of the military command at the time (Napoleon resisting rifled weapons as much as the American command on either side resisting repeating weapons on account of the command being far more familiar with smooth-bore line infantry combat).

@Dinh AaronMk I welcome anyone's suggestions and feedback, so thank you.

I am not at all suggesting that the 19th Century was not pivotal in the development of firearms, far from it in fact! If I was setting this RP in various points throughout the Century then I would of course adapt the available technology to fit. But this is an RP set in 1799, which is a point I do express.

With that in mind, then the idea of the musket being the primary firearm is far from a speculation, it is almost a certainty. Even during the Battle of Waterloo, 16 years after the starting date of this RP, rifles were still an uncommon armament. Only around 4000 were present on the English side, and practically none on the French side due to Napoleon's disdain of them, and his recalling of the experimental rifles in 1807.

I appreciate your feedback, but I can't help but feel you did not fully read the entire post, as you appear to have missed the limited beginning date of 1799. And for future reference, I don't particularly appreciate the apparent assumption of my ignorance. I wouldn't be undertaking running an RP if I hadn't done my research for it. But thank you nonetheless. I will read over the post again, in case I am at fault for not making the point clear.

@Romero

Really, if what you want is a more Napoleonic situation with all the trappings and none of the worry of calculating however much more damage can be done by taking a brigade of rifles and having them shoot at another brigade at rifles at practical point-blank range for said rifles, then it would be far easier and far more honest to just call it an 18th century RP than a 19th century RP given how the Napoleonic Wars were much more along that tradition then and the 19th in the broadest sense. Calling something 19th century calls to mind so much of what is that tried and tired trope of Steam punk and the later definitive acts of the what-is Victorian period.

Pro Patria Mori - A Tale of Sailships and Muskets (Still Recruiting)

3) On that note, this role-play is firmly rooted in early 19th century technology. Yes there are guns, but they are basic muskets, so don't expect to be sharpshooting across the battlefield. There's no magic, and the only race your nation can be is human. Any further questions, just ask!

I'm not sure if you know this or not but the 19th century was a pretty major period in fire arms development. Even in the early 19th century rifled barrels existed establishing the dual classification of muskets (smooth bore) and rifles (rifled barrels) with the later providing considerable advantages of range over the classical smooth bore muskets in the first stage of the 1800's.

By the mid-1800's rifled barrels and more precise fire-arms became more in vogue with fully rifled muskets or full rifles being in use on the battlefield of the American Civil War. In fact a major factor to the high death toll in the Civil War was the usage of far more modern weapons being deployed in a much more Napoleonic methodology, tight formations shoulder-to-shoulder firing in blocks against the enemy two or three times in anytime between a minute or five minutes before charging in (in this case, not because they couldn't fire faster but because every soldier was issued a limited number of shot and ball they couldn't afford to fire as fast as possible as long as possible, 20-something shots per-person does not allow that).

Repeating rifles too saw deployment in the American Civil War, again the mid 19th century allowing for rapid fire and the benefit of rifles barrels. While of course in the historical context they were in they may not have seen wide-spread use like the Gatling Gun from the general conservatism of the military command they were a present and viable option with the terrifying benefit of rapid fire and incredible accuracy; early Gatling Guns for instance were known to be as accurate as any contemporary rifle of the time (as by design, Dr. Gatling hoped a single Gatling Gun would do the work of an entire battalion on a crew of two and thus reduce an army's size; this of course went the other way).

This is all in the period wooden hull ships would be in vogue and motor-driven ships would be at their earliest stage. Because also in the "19th Century" time-period you have the widespread evolution out of the sailing ship and into the engine-driven steel-hull ship and the industrial spread of rifled barrels. The musket was abandoned in the later part of the 19th century and in the life-time of a single person the entire period has gone from packing powder and bullets down a barrel with a ramrod to cartridges containing all the means to fire a bullet; the bullet itself, powder or propellant, firing cap. that can be fired with the twitch of a hand on a lever to reload a new bullet into the firing chamber or opening the chamber itself to load a new bullet into it and with unparalleled accuracy. Some features of Napoleonic warfare remained, but the lines of battle would be far more spread out. Meanwhile on the sea the steel-hulled ships would be so resistant to their own guns the whole practice of naval warfare returned to just smashing shit.

I think you're interpreting a fairly dynamic period of technological change as a fairly stagnant period with a single prominent firearm; the old musket with no accuracy. This is opposed to an earlier period and probably a far more accurate time for what you may want: the 18th century, or the 1700s.

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

The enemy is at our gates. Our nation is blown asunder. The powers that be care not for us. The fight over our history, but we yet have the time to seize it. Arise, workers of the world! Bother not for the mediocrity of the present powers. Arise, people of China! Bargain not with the enemy of the people!

What use is there to ask nicely and to wash away our dreams and brighter futures in the mud of the capitalist and the imperialist? Do not ask, but demand! Rise forth, and demand too from the Party liberation and change the course of this world. You know that there is no chance elsewhere. You know there are no other options. The cornered tiger does not plead for life like a meek house cat. It lunges forth from its corner and becomes more dangerous than the hunter and his spear!

We can break the chains and shatter the swords of the old world and alight anew with our energetic hearts. Set out, let the sun rise red over the eastern horizon!

Pamplet #12
Wen Chun Ming
1933

Russia

Yerofeysky

Light had barely broke the horizon as the village's streets filled. The panic of the previous night calmed but broiled still on a low tentative simmer. Could it happen again? And when? Men with flash lights and lanterns went about inspecting the damages. No one had been injured in last night's assault. The Russians counted their blessings as they swept up the broken glass and flecks of wood. But after that episode, few had gone back to bed. The Chinese themselves were particularly tense. The episode had woken them all through the night. They all being new – save for many of the officers – felt particularly alert now that they were for sure at war. This wasn't simply a walk in the woods, this was the campaign.

Yu Huan could still feel his body hum and shiver from last night. He felt hyper-alert, awake. Outside the footsteps on gravel and sandy gravel sounded as if next to his ears. Every shift in the house as it groaned and sighed in the cool Siberian night felt like the foot steps of a dozen men through it. He believed he could even feel the scurrying of mice.

All through that night they stood watch to wait and see if they would be fired on again. But as the cold hours dwindled not a report came from the trees. But the restlessness did not cease. Even as patrols changed and he went off to bed he lay awake, staring up at the ceiling from a makeshift cot close to the floor. Sleeping in the commandeered abandoned farm house they called a barracks a soldier sat at the window smoking a cigarette. The orange star of its burning ember growing bright as the sun as he rose it to his lips and took a draw. He struggled to go to sleep, first battling with the still racing adrenaline, demanding his alertness and snapping open his eyes at every move someone took. Then the lingering fear, he would close his eyes and drift off to the nightmarish sound of a rifle shot and the whipping crack of a bullet passing by his ears.

But by morning as the village began to mill about on tip-toes, afraid of stepping on broken glass and summoning another assault Huan's real day could begin. He felt exhausted and wasted by a long night of waiting and half asleep. He had visions, day dreams as he lay half awake of a Cossack breaking through the door with a knife clenched between jagged uneven teeth. His ragged uniform caked with mud and blood. It never came, but the stillness of the night kept the tension. Morning call, the sharp piercing whistles of the officers came almost as a relief, but he felt no more rested from it.

Rising with the rest of his cadre Huan joined in with his squad and took up his rifle again and trudged out into the cool dim morning air. A faint mist enveloped the village and there was a soft dewy glisten in the grass. A clear sky overhead glowed with a still misty blue and orange light. Heavy from sleep, Huan could not help but throw a weary eye towards the edge of the village and its surrounding hills, waiting for the flash of a rifle.

None came, and they came to their appointed field. An orchard more or less, where in the long shadows of the apple trees they began gathering. Their commanding officer soon came, a tall athletic man with a trim face and all the proper cuts and dress. Huan knew him to have a cold, distant air in his gray brown eyes. But this morning he seemed to lack that. Though he pretended to act stoic and indifferent, Huan noticed just the smallest hint of the same nervousness that he felt as the commander passed.

“I don't think I need to remind you all.” the officer said as he walked into the middle of the clearing. He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword and gripped it tightly as he paced, “I think it goes without saying. Likewise, I think we all deserve to know the circumstances of what happened.

“At 22:00 hours, at the western edge of the village an unknown number of hostiles opened fire into the village. No one was injured, which has lead us to conclude that the attack was threatening, or provocative.” by 'us' Huan knew he meant the commanding corp of officers at the center of the unit, “Shang shi Ju Gan, you were front and center. What happened from your perspective?”

Evidently Huan could tell, this would be an open debriefing. The air was quiet, the unusual situation becoming real. Speaking loud Ju Gan spoke in a clear voice, “My men and I were on patrol, headed south along the west-side foot path, about ten, fifteen meters from the creek at the cross house we came under fire from an unseen force. Taking cover, several shots of retaliatory fire were exchanged. Enemy fire stopped, and not knowing where they were we held back. When zhōngwèi
Hui Shang arrived to back us up with squads in tow, we made a pursuit into the woods. Though, given how dark it was we did not stray far. We only found casings.”

“How far would you say you penetrated?”

“Perhaps five meters, six. We didn't want to lose the lights of the village or fall into a trap. Hui Shang gave us the order to withdraw and wait until morning.”

The commander nodded with a bow. This was Gan's call to relax. “The situation has changed for us. From this point I want to double the guards full time. These security patrols will be extended into the day and I'll be issuing the new schedules later this morning. What would be most important is investigating who attacked us last night and will be organizing a full reconnaissance effort to find evidence of who, and where they went. Responsibility of such will go to Hui Shang, who I've authorized to make and selections.

“I have also received a cable early last night, and this may be related to the incident up here. But on the survey route north one of the patrols were attacked. No one survived. Clearly the enemy is on to us, and I advise we all stay on our toes. The worst is yet to come.”

The officer took a brief pause as he looked out at the troops. “If no one has anything else left to say. Then we're through here.” he said. No one else spoke. “You're dismissed.”

The orchard was filled with the sound of movement as soldiers rose or leaned off of the apple trees. Boots crunched through the long grass. But Yu Huan remained, his head resting against the rough bark of the lichen-covered apple tree as he half dozed in the wet dewy grass. He heard something next to him and looked over to see Lei. He squatted on the other side of the tree, his rifle resting across his lap. Adjusting the bandoleer he wore he looked over at asked, “How are you feeling?”

He showed a genuine concern in his dark eyes. But the rest of his face was without expression. His wide broad pan face caught in a soft frown. “I don't know, Zuang Lei.” Huang said, “I didn't sleep much.”

“I understand.” Lei said.

“I kept thinking someone was going to come in and kill me. Finish whatever job they tried to start.”

Lei nodded. “Is this going to get much better?” asked Huang.

“I suppose so. You got to sleep eventually.” Lei looked back the way everyone was going, “Time to eat first.”

China

Zhongnanhai

Hou stood by the window. Looking outside as he poured a glass of water he peered through the lattice windows of the second floor. Walking across the paved courtyard outside visitors moved along, looking up at the darkened windows from where Hou stood hidden as they toured the small off shooting of the Forbidden City. Inside as outside a musty head permeated the air and every breath of air brought into his nose a smell of the dry, dusty ancient. At least looking outside at summer time Beijing Hou felt fortunate that he had ceiling fans.

Positioned above the long central table in the middle of Politburo's conference room a sequence of fans hung from the ceiling. Pushing down on the air they kept a fair deal of circulation going to keep the room feeling comfortable. With the high ceilings and curtains drawn partially over the windows the comfort was advanced further. It was hardly a cold mountain breeze, but they were not sweating. “I think we're ready, comrade.” a voice said behind Hou and he nodded.

“Should we start with reading last meeting's minutes?” Hou asked as he moved towards the table with a glass of water.

Halfhearted, the ministers at the table rose their hands and voted in to begin with a reading of the minutes from the last meeting. Motioning to a middle-aged secretary in the corner of the room Hou bid she begin reading the notes from the last convening of the Politburo.

The motion took only a minute. After the reading Hou asked from his seat, “Are there any materials we need to discuss from last week? Any developments?”

The tacit silence from the ministers confirmed as much and Hou nodded, “So moving on to the material at hand.” he sighed as he opened up a file and produced the docket for that week's session, “Our first subject is a proposal by the Qíngbào Jú who asks for permission to begin foreign operations. Comrade Dong Jiao-Long, would you mind sharing with us the details?”

A hunched over figure sat at the far side of the table, a cigarette between two long clawed fingers. With the light streaming through the crack between the curtains of the window his pale gray hair glowed with a soft light. He tapped out the cigarette on a nearby ash tray and rose, brushing his hand down his black uniform he began speaking, “Simply put, following the discovery of the Philipine based freighter sailing out of Vietnamese waters by our agents, it has been decided by myself and the deputy committee in the Qíngbào Jú that a far more robust network of foreign informants and agents is required to better inform the nation as to the activities of regional actors. While the freighter serves as evidence to us as to the involvement of the Philippines in Vietnam it does not make any assured confirmations. To the deputy committee and myself an expansion of our knowledge in foreign activities is necessary to validate our beliefs as to what is going on in Vietnam and the Philippines so we can be sure what is happening.

“To this end, we have decided that we are permitted to establish a foreign directorate in order to organize and manage foreign agents and contacts with more accuracy and efficiency. The primary objectives of the new foreign directorate will be for the cultivation of moles and informants abroad, through direct and indirect networking through proxy bodies. Through the course of which we hope to gain insights into foreign operations, regional or even global.

“Our immediate goals in the establishment of this directorate amount to two main missions: Firstly, to infiltrate the government of the Philippines so as to capture details on state memos and planning and to discover the source of the arms shipments to Vietnam, whether as sourced directly from the Philippines itself or by some foreign body. Secondly, in continued suspicion of the Waikou that we mature our observation from simply feeble attempts to observe Japanese movement at the border, or the accumulation of common knowledge rumors and hear-say into a verifiable body of information that effects Japanese national policy and military goals.

“We in the Bureau believe that the Japanese are the closest primary actor in Vietnam.

“That's all, comrade.” Jiao-Long said with a reptilian smile, and bowing.

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the assumption we already had foreign contacts?” Zhu Mang asked from across the table, “Would it be too imprudent to simply expand from there as opposed to starting from scratch.”

“Those contacts are in a different class.” Jiao-Long admitted, sitting back down, “We can hardly classify them as a formal intelligence asset. On average, they are an informal material that mostly keeps a finger on the underclass and the common citizenry of Taiwan and Japan. We can rarely glean anything from them that focuses on what the Japanese government is currently doing. But we can follow what is happening on the ground and how public opinion is moving. In so far these are only particular concerns per the Canton and Manchurian Directorates, as well as to a much more limited extent the Western Directorate. These missions are normal per regular regional operations.”

“Yes, but these operations can not be expanded?” Mang asked, “They can't directly recruit people higher up?”

“They do not have the resources.” Jiang-Long replied with a cold snap of his tongue, “The operations I am suggesting would require more intensive procedures. Most often, the directorates dealing directly with the citizenry of a neighbor are doing so as either refugees or with protected smuggling operations. These do not require any sort of masking or proxy, most often they are dealt with directly with agents whose openness depends on their attitudes. As such, they also prove a low-risk. The information is hardly high-value, and if a source disappears its not damaging to anyone but the source itself. A separate department focused to acting purely outside China would allow a concentration of resources and talent to achieve higher value objectives.”

“They Philippines, didn't they just have an election several months backed?” a minister asked. Clean shaven neck and a wiry mustache. His hair was cut short. With pudgy fingers he lifted his glasses further up his squat nose to frame his beady eyes, “I seem to recall that.”

“They did, Tsai Tang. Priscilla Aglipay-Rizal's party lost power.” Hue Yu said, speaking up as he lowered a glass of water from his lips, “Their new president, what's his name. Well I hear he's friendly to China.”

“Then it might be an option to meet him.” Tang said with a smile, “Comrade Jiao-Ling, you were saying your men might need some sort of proxy, or a cover in your Foreign Directorate?”

“I did.” the Qíngbào Jú said.

“Would this work need to be illegitimate, or legitimate?” Tang again asked.

“Either or.”

“Perhaps we can settle the Bureau's infiltration in the Philippines here and now then. I was going to bring it up here today anyways but now is as good a time as either. I propose we extend foreign relations to the Philippines and the institution of an embassy there, likewise they here. As we did with Ethiopia. The world is wide and we will need friends of some kind. And who knows, perhaps with a receptive president we can build something.”

“The Philippines is hardly a finished revolution though. I am as on edge about the principle surrounding extending relations with the Ethiopians on that. As I am about the Philippines.” Zhu Mang argued, “They're still acting on the market. It will be one bad decision from their government before the country goes bad to the dogs! We should really consider treating our relationships as a sign of approval, to build a bulwark against the bourgeoisie, not to approve supporting them or reactionary aristocrats.”

“I believe your concerns were trounced when we spoke about Ethiopia.” Tang reminded him, “Never the less, whether it is all true I would argue we set precedent and we may as well continue with it. If at the least, the Philippines like Ethiopia are a non-imperial power and may be the diplomatic groundwork for a non-imperial alliance. Or more hopefully, our guiding presence in the country will serve as a beacon to guide the people to emancipation and self rule.”

“Well spoken.” the young Hue Yu complimented.

“I agree.” Lou Shan Yuang spoke up, having found the time that week to attend.

Zhu Mang banged his hands on the table in frustration as he was slowly outmaneuvered on the subject. “So while out of place in the discussion I suppose at the least we have consensus on extending formal relations to the Philippines. But what about the Foreign Directorate?”

“From what has been said of it, I would suggest that we may expand it further.” Hue Yue jumped in, “Expanding it from the Philippines as a part of the new diplomatic mission into Ethiopia as a part of the existing diplomatic mission. There would surely be ground there. As comrade Tang said, to be a beacon for the self emancipation of its people.”

“There is ample opportunity.” Tsai Tang lit in with a smile, “In particular Swahililand.” he gave a knowing nod to Jiang-Long. For a while now Chinese assets had been sold or loaned to the Swahilis to materially strengthen them.

“We've considered this in the Bureau,” Jiang-Long said, “This will come later.”

“I want to ask as a change of subject, to Hue Yue: how is the survey I asked for.”

“I've had the department organize the survey, the matters aboard the ships are being settled and methodology is being prepared. There is nothing concrete yet. But we'll soon be on our way to measuring Chinese fishery fields. May I ask why we're doing this?” Yue asked.

“I had a personal hunch and been in contact with my brother. He's been writing back about how he has had to sail out beyond the Philippines. I'm concerned this puts our boats in danger of conflict with the Japanese. I would like in the future to organize some way we can stabilize our activity so we're not going so far.”

“That's smart, I heard piracy is an issue too in the south.” Lou Shan Yuang said simply.

“Moving further along on the docket... Shan Yuang, Ming Xing was prepared to organize extending rail service into Russia. Knowing the immediate moment is not optimal, is there anyway we can organize something in the future?”

“Rice and roads then...” Commander Shan Yuang said dryly.

Art Chat

This may offend some.

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deviantart.com/aaronmk/art/Dive-75660…

And now a restoration of sanity.

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