The Federation

Benjamin Blackburn

April 22, 2020

0.1 Prologue

For centuries, men have wondered whether we could build an empire so large, with suchgravitas no living being will be able to encompass it within our puny minds. But no man hasever wondered of the consequences of the million worlds and galaxies it encompasses fallingand degrading. No man has realised that it would be impossible to overextend mankind tothe point of near extinction, but to only repopulate it within the span of mere seconds. Butthe Federation proves them wrong. For 3,000 years mankind grew from one small planet to agalaxy-spanning conglomerate of republics and states. On Terra, we build this massive empireof brick and mortar, and we will continue its expansion forever-more. For the Empires of Oldwill marvel at our successes, and the Empires of New will carry our legacy until the brightblue flag fades to white!

-The Federal Director, Speech to the Newly Founded Federal Parliament, Extract

0.2 Chapter One

“Long has our citizens respect my authority, but now they must adhere to my authority withoutquestion.”

19th Prime Minister of the Federation Robert Cunningham, shortly before declaring the firstdictatum ultima

“All Officers of the Censor please immediately head to control room; all Officers of theCensor please immediately head to control room.” The loudspeakers blared out the messagein a monotone, seemingly robotic female voice.

Men and women of all shapes and sizes walked through the corridors, oblivious to thesudden rouse of the normally pensive loudspeakers. Loud clacking could be heard from thedistance, a tone similar to British soldiers marching on hard concrete, shimmering barrelsbounced up and down; their berets followed suit. But, in the middle were three dress caps,glimmering under the bright white lights that lit up the melancholic alleyway. The threepeople are the highest-ranking Officers of the Censor of the Grafitix Sector: in the middle isthe Commanding Officer of the Censor Roger Blackwell, Precinct of the Grafitix Sector; to theleft is the Katherine Carter, Blackwell’s Information Officer; to the right is the Rose Watson,Blackwell’s Security Officer. Collectively, they form the key basis of Blackwell’s retinue.

“Move apart, Censor Officers moving through! Move apart, Censor Officers moving through!”The beret-wearing men shoved pass the depressing crowd. The sudden excitement didn’t seemto do much to the overall environment, and the Censor Officers didn’t help either.

Always formed on squad of six, the Censor Officers doesn’t see too much fighting often,as they are always found to be guarding assets and men crucial to the daily operation of theCensor; found on even larger numbers on the Principality of the Censor’s 25 planets in theDeneb Sector. The men flanking the Commanding Officers has served with them as guardsmenor interrogators, and their names are known by heart to the Commanding Officers.

“Do you know why General Weygand called us up once again,” Katherine whispered toBlackwell, looking at him with her pair of green emerald eyes, “The last case isn’t even fin-ished. If he gets his mind out of the gutter maybe he won’t report this many people to us.”

“Oh, that old man that you tried to chase for a solid three months just to find out thathe has wound up dead, shot by Brushin’s men. Heh, if I had known, I wouldn’t even deployanyone.” Blackwell replied snarky.

“Of course, never in my life have I seen a man report so many wrong suspects. I’m startingto suspect that he is the one committing all of the things he is reporting.”

2

Blackwell chuckled as he opened the lashing doors to the Command Centre, and said againa familiar phrase, this time more furiously.

“General Weygand! What is it this time? I don’t want to hear your bullshit anymore!”“Corruption, your most favourite crime.” Weygand said, sat in the middle of his office,

smoking a cigarette.“Maybe it seems like it to you, Frenchie.” Blackwell replied, walking in further into his

office. The other Officers flanking him at his side, whilst his guards stop at Weygand’s officedoor.

“No.” Weygand stood up, and tossed a bundled file onto his table, “Read it, and look at thepictures.”

Blackwell walked further into the room, cigarette smoke filling the air. As air filtrationtechnology advanced, the Federation legalised smoking in confined spaces if the space is in-stalled with air filtration systems. Weygand, being a longtime smoker, rejoiced with that newpolicy, but Blackwell always hated a room filled with smoke, instead opting for his staff toupgrade to the more expensive, but even better air-filtration-drainage systems that the Censorhas employed in many of their facilities to prevent the enemy’s usage of chemical warfare.

Blackwell moved closer to Weygand’s table, and picked up the files. Opening the folder hespotted a large, red, stamped letters of ‘Classified’, and he began to flick through the photos.‘This looks familiar’ he thought ‘Where have I seen him?’. Flipping through the description ofthe suspect, it read the following:

First Name: TaylorLast Name: RidgewellHeight: 179 cm/ 5.8 feetWeight: 75 kgEye colour: BrownBasic Description: Mr. Taylor Ridgewell has unsuccessfully applied for two jobs in his youth,

finally being recruited into the Kingpin Mafia Family at 16 years old. Ridgewell have tried to studyfor a bachelor of literature at the University of Kronos, but dropped out due to an unsuccessfulacademic career. Has two brothers and one sister, all of which had been killed by him. PreviousCharges: Aggravated Assault x16, First Degree Murder x6, Assaulting Censor Officers x5, Robberyx45, Prison Escape x6. Accumulated 17 Life Sentences, all of which hasn’t been served.

Suspected Charges: Running of a prostitution ring and illegal private gambling house in theplanet of Kriskin.

“Taylor Ridgewell. . . ” Blackwell murmured to himself, still holding the files in his righthand.

“You know him?” Katherine, on his right asked. Katherine is an amateur officer, onlyjoining him three weeks prior. Amateur Officers are more commonly known by the nicknameof “Greenies”, and Blackwell teased Katherine many times over the past few weeks with thatderogatory name.

“I’ve forgotten you don’t know him.” Blackwell replied, pushing his glasses and readjustedhis dress cap.

“Is he famous?”“Very.” Blackwell replied, looking up from the files and glancing over to Katherine, peering

at her hat, “And next time shine your Sigil of the Eagle.”“Sorry, didn’t have time today.” Katherine replied, blushing at the cold insult. The Sigil of

the Eagle is the official logo of the Censor, and every dress cap worn by Officers are sewn witha metal one at the front.

“You’re just putting it into a machine for ten minutes, you can do that when you’re brush-ing your teeth.” Blackwell replied, reminding Katherine that the dress cap needs to be put in

3

a “Cap Shiner” every morning to shine it into a gleaming crisp. “Just remember to thank Godthat you’re not in the Director of Security’s retinue, or else you’ll be running laps in the pissingrain.”

“I’ll remember it next time, sir.”“Can you two stop arguing with on each other and care about my feelings.” Weygand in-

tercepted their conversation“Are you challenging a Censor Officer’s authority?” Blackwell retorted, speaking in his

posh, almost Oxfordian-like British accent.“Never said anything, just telling you to focus on your duty.” Weygand replied, his raspy

French making the officer on Blackwell’s left - Officer Rose - very confused.“Well, you know I’m in the exact situation you’re in.”“You’re just not good with women!”“Excellent advice for a man like you!” Rose rebutted, her Yorkish British accent differing

drastically from everyone else.“Calm down all of you! This is a professional environment! Rose, get a platoon ready! I

want them in 0-5 minutes.” Blackwell shouted back; the room quickly filled with silence.“Of course, sir!” Rose replied, running away and left the room, turning left and re-entering

the maze of tunnels and walkways that composes the Gratifix Governor’s Office. Blackwellfollowed suit, with Katherine following him.

“Seems like I’ve pissed him off.” Weygand said, smothering the cigarette into the ashtray.

—–

“Sir, Alpha Platoon reporting for duty!” A Captain of the Army saluted Blackwell, with thethundering of the troop carrier’s engine roaring away.

“Carry on!” Blackwell replied, Alpha Platoon turned around, and marched into the carrier,Blackwell and his retinue followed suit.

“Hey, captain!” Blackwell shouted, “What’s your name!”“Sir! Captain Nathaniel Greene, Sir!” Greene paused on the opened ramp, stopping and

looking back to Blackwell. “I’m a man of the Federal Army, all of us are!”“Which regiment do you belong to?”“3rd Mechanized sir! The Ghosts!”“I’ve heard.” Blackwell replied, now reaching the front of Greene, extending his hand out

for a handshake. The ‘Ghosts’, as they were nicknamed by the Federal populace, became wellknown after the extensive search efforts and disaster relieve they supplied to the batteredpeople of the planet Kraskin, and due to their ability to disappear after their work has beendone, the people of Kraskin named them ‘Ghosts’.

“Thank you sir!” Greene shook the extended right hand of Blackwell. “I’m from FirstCompany.”

“Ah! Good job from your men!” Blackwell replied. The First Company was paramount tothe survival of the Governor of Kraskin - being given the elusive duty of recovering him afterthe destruction caused by the large amounts of Earthquakes hitting the capital of Kraskin -Kraskin Prime.

“Thanks!” Greene sat down opposite to Blackwell, the ramp closing in on the ship.“Central, this is raven 1-2, lifting off for priority one mission.” The pilot announced into

his microphone, with the engines of the carrier billowing away.“Nice opportunity to work with you, with The New Republic.” Blackwell said to Greene,

fastening his seatbelt.“My pleasure.” Greene replied.

—–

4

0.3 Chapter Two

“No rebellion can be contained by appeasing two oppositions of the government.”Officer of the Censor Roger Blackwell, Director of the Audit and Commanding Officer of Grafitix

Sector; during the destruction of the Kriskin RebellionsOfficer Blackwell slide open the visor chamber next to his seat, revealing the luminous city

of Kriskin Prime below. The carrier’s engine continued to roar, making a thunderous amountof noise.

“Doesn’t seem to look well, not like last time I’ve been here.” Blackwell remarked, staringout into the oblivion.

Blackwell stared out of the small carrier window, and looked upon the blazend city ofKriskin Prime. Kriskin Prime is the largest metropolitan city in the planet system of Kriskin,and the city laid upon the system’s regional capital of Kriskin itself. It was classified as aMetropolitan Planet long before Blackwell was even born, and he had always remembered itas a buzzling city. But, when he assumed the position of Commanding Officer of the GratifixSector - in which the planet system of Kriskin lie in - he gained the knowledge that KriskinPrime is also one of the cities most plagued by crime, and was also one of the many that wasaffected by the All-Father Cult - the cult in which believers thought that the Federal Directorwas God. Kriskin has long been affected by large amount of gangs, and is a brewing place ofrebellion, but Blackwell hasn’t seen it even worse that this. The city centre was entirely struckwith a crimson blaze, and the fumes of fire cloaked up the city with a stinking orange and redfumes.

“Quite different,” Katherine said, “Scans shows that there is an ongoing rebellion occuringin the city centre.”

“No shit! They’ve burnt down our landing site.” The pilot said, directing his comments toBlackwell.

The pilot pointed out the blackened helicopter pad on the Censor Branch Office, fire stillsurrounding the already heavily damaged landing platform. Blackwell’s face became dis-torted, he knew deep inside that this time, it will be even worse than the All-Father Cultists.

“Then send us somewhere not burning!” Blackwell commanded, “And somewhere thathouses the Chief of Police!” Blackwell poked his head forwards, shouting over the roaringengines.

The Chief of Police of each planet system is always headquartered at the regional capi-tal, and commands all units of each system’s regional police, supplied by the Censor underthe “Treaties of Regional Police Distribution”. Normally, when a catastrophic event regardingpolicing and upkeep of peace occurs, a Precinct of the Censor’s most senior officer will alwayshead to the Chief of Police for questioning and prosecuting them for “Injustice” - a crime nor-mally only instituted to the Chiefs and charges death sentences. This time, Blackwell knowsthat the Chief has no power at this stage, and will require him to step in and head up troopsthat are much more well-equipped to deal with the tasks at hand.

“Plot us to Kriskin Prime Police Centre.” Katherine said, standing up from her seat andwalking towards the cockpit.

“Well, seems like we got some killing to do lads!” Rose said to the retinues.“Good, my trigger finger is itching.” Greene replied.

—–

The guards marched after the three Officers, with Blackwell being in the middle. Theyslowly approached the door to the police’s command centre, and Blackwell stopped the col-umn.

5

“Facial Recognition scan completed, welcome Officer Blackwell.” The monotone roboticfemale voice said to Blackwell. And he walked in first, only to discover a female Officer of theCensor tied up, gagged, and kneeling in front of him.

“Well well well, look what we got here.” Ridgewell said in a sinister voice, approachingBlackwell.

“Would you mind telling me what you are doing here, in the Command Centre of thepolice?”

“Well,” Ridgewell moved in even closer to Blackwell, his feet near touching Blackwell’s.Ridgewell towered over the shorter, 5 foot 7 tall Blackwell, and seemingly could easily knockout Blackwell. “Maybe let him do the explaining.” Ridgewell pointed to his left, and in theshadows a man pulled another bleeding man in front of the central command console.

“Sir, that’s the Chief of Police.” Katherine whispered to Blackwell.“Yeh, let my men deal with him.” Rose commented.Blackwell stood resolute, motionless.“So,” Ridgewell backed up and moved to the dead Chief’s corpse. “You know the answer

now. I wanted to deal with her too, before you came in and disturbed our party.”“Sir, that’s Officer Kiernan of the Kriskin sub-department, I recommend you do some-

thing.” Katherine commented on the struggling lady, Katherine’s piercing green eyes lookedscaredly to Blackwell.

“It’s a trap.” Blackwell replied. “There is only one way out.”“Only in heaven may men understand the beauty of nothingness.” Blackwell walked for-

ward, and kneeled in front of Kiernan whilst quoting an unknown source.“Huh! Never knew you’ve read the Templica.” Ridgewell replied.“No, the quote in your mind is ‘If the lord wants us all to live, then he wouldn’t have made

heaven be nothing.’, do you know what that means?”“No. . . ” Ridgewell replied, confused and puzzled by Blackwell’s statement.“It means that heaven is nothing, and only hell exists.” Blackwell suddenly pulled out his

revolver, and pointed at Kiernan’s temple.“Sir!” Katherine shouted.“Hands up in the air Officer!” the guards shouted, some pointed their guns at Ridgewell,

and some pointed at Blackwell.“I’m now in your mind.” Blackwell said, a growingly lunatical face appeared. “Aren’t I

right?”Ridgewell began panting profusely, looking around the room in search of his own pistol.“I won’t shoot! I won’t shoot.” Ridgewell shouted, frantically scouring for his pistol.“Fire!” Blackwell ordered. The guards opened fire on Ridgewell, and some didn’t still have

time to point up; firing on Blackwell’s back.“Bullets blocked.” The AI said to Blackwell, he stood up and began to massage his knees.“Katherine, make. . . repairs to the consoles!” Blackwell gestured to the many command

consoles now displaying black and blue screens.“Yes Sir!”“Rose, untie her.” Blackwell commanded Rose.“Yes Sir!”“Guards, secure all openings! And also send one of your men to the carrier, I want them

inside and contacting our forces!”“Yes Sir!” The guards collectively replied, one already dashing back to the landing site.“Men, I want two on this door, three on the back door, and three on the sides! Orlean,

you’re with me!” Greene ordered his men to move, with Captain Orlean following behind himand dashing to catch up with the runner.

6

“Yeh,” Blackwell sighed, Rose already untying Kiernan under his feet, “And for me, you’reold, don’t always kneel.

“Thank you! Thank you” Kiernan said to Blackwell.“Rose, patch her up. I think she’s gone with a bout of lunacy!” Blackwell ordered, and was

replied with them two laughing.

—–

“We expected the rebels to give in by midday, but they didn’t.” Kiernan said to Blackwell,who was glancing around sternly at the engineers repairing the many damaged commandconsoles.

“Quite apparent, they showed it by ransacking this entire centre.” Blackwell replied, handsfolded.

“Now, our main objective is to repair this facility, contact our forces, and secure backKriskin Prime.”

“An idiot with a spoon could tell me that.” Blackwell replied, anger simmering from hiswords. “No rebellion I’ve faced has been this large, this looks more like a bigger organisationis at play.”

“True, true.” Kiernan replied, her voice lowering. Maybe she sensed that Blackwell is quitemad at her elementary analysis, but all the information she has can’t really allow for anyoneto make a decision on how to shut down the riots. Except for Blackwell.

“Go and find General Sturnn, and tell him to come here. I have something to say to him.”“Yes sir.” Kiernan replied, already darting for the door.“Sir, the systems seemingly are coming online!” Katherine shouted, bent over fixing a con-

sole with her screwdriver.“At least something is listening to me.” Blackwell replied with a hollow expression.“But, I have a question sir,” Katherine asked, “What can the Censor do? I mean, all of our

power has been stripped after the New Republic.”“We still have some. The Princep knew what he was negotiating with the Chancellor, he

wasn’t negotiating for more rights of the people serving under the Chancellor; he was beggingfor breathing room.”

“What do you want from me Blackwell?” Sturnn walked in, adorning a cane on his righthand, and slowly strutted his way behind Blackwell.

“What took you two so long?” Blackwell turned to his back, storm coat flinging about, butstill bearing a stern look.

“I was doing business in the bog.” Sturnn replied, Kiernan followed behind him.“I see,” Blackwell replied, “I have something to beg of you, General.”“What is it?” Sturnn strutted right next to Blackwell, propping himself up with his ma-

hogany cane.“Muster 10,000 men to quench this rebellion with force.”“Isn’t that against the constitution?” Kiernan asked, standing on Blackwell’s left, and of

course being very puzzled.“Didn’t you read the actual constitution? It said the Censor could only employ not more

than 10,000 men, but not barring us from deploying them with guns.”“That’s near all out war.”“Trust him won’t you Kiernan!” Katherine interrupted, “He fought off the entirety of the

All-Father Cult, he should know whether or not the employment of force is necessary.” TheAll-Father Cult was a religious cult that fervently believed that the Federal Director was God,and that the only way to spread their way of life was via brutal force. The cult sprang up inthe Gratifix Sector, just when Blackwell was deployed to govern the precinct, and he showed

7

his excellent military prowess via crushing the then-active 30 rebel sites. As well as that, healso met his current retinue of officers whilst working at the precinct, and also met GeneralSturnn; who now became one of his most important friends. He never left the precinct, as hewas also granted the extra position of the Director of Audit, whose headquarters was on thecentral planet Gratifix.

“Yeah, you should, young child.” Sturnn looked back and said to Kiernan.“Don’t be mad at her, she just don’t understand yet.” Blackwell replied, and said to every-

one else.“We’re at war, kids, the hogs and bulls of the enemy are very hungry for blood.”

—–

0.4 Chapter Three

“Our men die so that the gods may laugh forevermore.”General Harold G. Sturnn, during the Eclipse Campaign1“Control, this is Kornmak One, making touchdown with 3rd Mechanised First Platoon”

The pilot of a personnel carrier announced into his radio, engines blaring in the background.“Kornmak One, solid copy, touchdown approved.” Control replied with a monotone, face-

less, manly voice.The personnel carrier extended its legs as the pilot slowly eased it down onto the ground,

with steam billowing from the pipes blowing away evaporated coolant. The personnel carrierX-15 - more commonly known by ground personnel as the Raven, is the most prevalent cargohauler of the Federation, only surpassed by custom built; specified cargo-carrying ships thatis commissioned by the Federal Merchant Fleet, which still needed Ravens to carry their cargoonto planetary supply depots. The Federal Army also commissioned many Ravens to carrysoldiers and munitions due to its rigid structure and titanium-built body, which has the abilityto shrug away most laser weaponry fired at it.

“Alright men!” Greene shouted, “What we are dealing here with is an armed rebellion,with men that has the capability to kill, maim, and burn all of us without remorse or yield. Wedon’t need to reason, as reason will not puncture their minds.”

Kornmak One extended its ramp, and out poured First Platoon - the near most elite bunchof men that the 3rd Mechanised could throw at any threat. Most first platoons of any FederalArmy Regiment is the most elite troops that the Regiment has ever produced, and normallyused only under the supreme order of each Regiment’s head of command - usually the Colonelof each Regiment - except if the first platoon has been specifically called into service by theCensor or its Officers.

“Central, this is Alpha One-one, platoon has touched ground, please advise.” Greene spokeinto his microphone, his platoon following after him.

“Alpha One, radio check.” Central replied, ordering Greene’s men to check radio connec-tivity to headquarters.

“Alpha One-two, solid copy.”“Alpha One-three, solid copy.”“Alpha One-four, solid copy.”And that phrase continued onwards, until the last man - Corporal d’Orlean - spoke with

his raspy French accent, “Alpha One-ten, solid copy.”“d’Orlean!” Greene shouted, waving over to d’Orlean, “Come over! I want you to see this.”

8

“Copy!” d’Orlean shouted back, walking forward to Greene. d’Orlean, being a Corporal,makes him second-in-command of the platoon, helping Greene to command and order theplatoon to abide to headquarter’s orders. “Looks like a message.”

The two commanders looked down on the street, standing right in a crossroad. The platoonstood around them, looking out for onlookers. The leaders were looking at a piece of paper,strewn on top of the cracked concrete; the paper had bold, red letters written on it, simplystating ‘look up’.

“Looks more like a warning.” Greene replied, gesturing to his soldiers, “Get ready, andlook onto the rooftops.”

His men stared, pointing their standard issue assault rifles to the rooftops. Most of thebuildings surrounding them were quite low, so an ambush was quite easily achievable, andthe rebellions this time will use all means to stop the Federation from retaking control.

“Doesn’t seem like there is anything.” A soldier said to Greene.And it surely did look like no one; or even no thing, was after them. The eerily quiet streets

of the evacuated Kriskin Prime were scary to any normal man, but not the First Platoon. Theyhad scrambled and ran so that they may fish out the Governor of Kraskin, and for them anempty and silent street does not strike as much as a cringe out of their spines. Kriskin Primewas a buzzling trade city, vital to the survival of planet Kriskin and the planet system Kriskin,but it was wrought with crime and strife. In the upper echelons of society things were muchbetter off, the merchants and traders that own the city had owned massive amounts of propertyand ship-ports, and more than most they hoarded the food to themselves. Meanwhile, thepoor workmen and slaves of Kriskin Prime – not unlike many other stereotypical trade city –received the bare minimums of living: small amounts of porridge, a cell-like flat, and plentyof razors. But now the muted streets were very out of place for a city like this, and that is alsowhy Blackwell sent the First Platoon – they weren’t scared of anything under the leadership ofGreene.

“Must be an ambush somewhere.” Greene breathed to his men via the radio, “But why theyhaven’t come I’m not quite sure.”

“Well, it can be a false warning.” d’Orlean reminded Greene, “maybe they thought wewould arrive early, but we came too late, and they ran out of patience.”

“You can be sometimes quite correct, d’Orlean. Men! Continue marching to the MarketCentre! Ignore the warning!”

The paper seemed like a false alarm, and was used to drag on their time to travel to theMarket Centre – which has now been nearly entirely burned by the rebels and was the originallanding position for Blackwell – and if they did not move quicker, the rebels would surely gaina bigger foothold.

“Central, this is Alpha One-one, requesting reinforcements for Market Centre. The rebelslaid down a false alarm, this bunch is much smarter than the last ones.”

“Copy, Alpha One-one, Omega Two will be deploying, ETA 0-5 minutes. Be alert, they areblocking satellite imagery, we have no idea about troop movements, report when necessary.”Central reported on the dire situation. The rebels, somehow, had shot down the satellites de-ployed by the 3rd Mechanised, and commanding units now have no idea what was happeningto their men. Greene knew that downed satellites normally means a highly advanced enemy,and expected the rebels to be equipped with large amounts of technology.

“Copy, Central, Alpha One-one will be reporting.”2The platoon carried on its march, finally arriving uneventfully at the sacked Market Centre.

The screwing of it has torn up the usually quiet city centre into a shattered ruin of its past self.Rebels had done the city bad, with fires still burning in the midst of Censor forces arriving.

9

“Central, this is Alpha One-one, we had arrived at the Market Centre, requesting furtherorders.” Greene reported back to headquarters with a sombre tone, his squad pausing behindhim.

“Copy, Alpha One-one, secure the perimeters. We will be establishing local HQ within thearea.” Central replied.

Greene’s face tightened up. He knew that it would be serious, but when command wantsa local HQ to set up to deal with the issue, then it has been even worse. Only when the All-Father Cult was at its largest extent of 25 planets, had Blackwell ordered establishment of alocal HQ at the only unaffected planet of Anatolin system – Beklin. Greene has only knownof the man privately for a short time, but he knew of his deeds, his legend; when he thinks it’sbad, it’s really bad.

“Central, won’t HQ being in the police headquarters be better? You’re more protectedthere, an—”

“Negative, Alpha One-one,” Blackwell’s familiar voice replied to Greene’s question, “Commsare bad in here, and setting it up there would be better. This line will cut out soon, act quickly.”

Greene understood his orders deep down, but he never really made sense of electronics,and he surely won’t try and challenge Blackwell. He also started to realise that the line wascracking up, with the faint tone of ‘mmm’ humming in his ears, he knows somethings wrong.But, -

‘Pew pew!’ A shot rang through Greene’s ears, aimed directly at his second-in-command -d’Orlean.

“

merde

!” the Frenchman shouted, cowering for cover and holding up his rifle above his head.“Break for cover!” Greene yelled, ordering his men to duck. He himself dodged the shot by

sprinting up right next to d’Orlean.“Sir!” A female soldier pointed, Greene glancing at her with his pearl-blue eyes, “I found

where they are shooting from!”“Wouldn’t have knew that a rookie like you can spot a shout that far away!” Greene replied,

peeking over his cover – a piece of concrete that has fallen off the top of the central waterfountain.

Greene spotted a shooter – presumably a rebel shooter – firing his laser sniper at the Pla-toon. The man was pitched high up at a rooftop of a barber shop, and it was impossible to takehim down unless he sends men to kill him behind his back. The platoon was suppressed, andnone dared to lift their heads up in fear of it rolling down their shoulders.

“d’Orlean, Kate! Head up to the barbershop, I want that man dead!” Greene barked atd’Orlean and the lady he pointed at.

“Yes sir!” They cried out loud and ran for the door.The platoon cowered up at the concrete pool surrounding the fountain, with d’Orlean and

Kate being the only ones close enough to the barbershop – which was opposite of everyone – soinstinctively Greene ordered them to maim the man, but he knew that d’Orlean was a coward,and was only useful when a woman is around him.

He thought for another moment, still receiving laser rifle fire from above. In most panicsituations, it was he that saved his squad, in Kriskin it was he that lend his hand for thewounded lady – which later was revealed to be the Governor’s daughter – and it is he thatalways stayed calm. But he knew that if he ran, he will be in the direct firing line of theshooter, and then he will never ever save anyone again. He stared at the pair, finally lined upnext to the barbershop’s door, and with d’Orlean elbowing the doorknob away; crushing it,

10

the pair disappeared; with Greene fearing whether or not they will come out again. ‘A rookiewith a coward’ he thought ‘if I don’t die, I account this one to God.’. Greene always knew thatd’Orlean is no man fit to lead, he was always scared, never able to make quick decisions, andalways the last to pull the trigger.

Greene recalled their time at Polonia, back when they both first enrolled into the Army.d’Orlean was very different from their batch of recruits, he was cowardly; unwilling; and hada fear of point-blank shooting. The only redeeming factor of him was his vast knowledgeof computers and electronics, or else he wouldn’t even had past basic training. Greene re-membered the first man that d’Orlean was called in to shoot for desertion – the highest crimecommittable by any Federal citizen – and how he cried, “Please, I can’t shoot him! He wasafraid, just like me!” And how Greene had to save his ass by taking the pistol and firing rightinto that man’s temple. He knew nothing can save that coward man, except for his large lust,‘maybe it’s the French in him.’ He thought, lasers still spewing over his head.

‘Bang!’ A quick decisive shot rang through Greene’s ears. d’Orlean was brave enough thistime. d’Orlean poked his head over, and told Greene, “The lache is dead!”

“Good job, good job!” Greene shouted back and clapping at his achievement. He thoughtshooting a man point-blank was normal, but for d’Orlean it was a miracle.

“Central, this is Alpha One-one, perimeter secured. Send in the men.”“Copy, Alpha One-one, ETA 1-0 minutes.”3The chilling winds of Kraskin Prime’s winter, combined with the ashes of the simmering

fires blew onto Blackwell’s fair skin, dusting up his glasses and covering up his pearl-green lefteye. His family always had the heritage of having different colour eyes, his left is pearl-green;whilst his right is aqua blue. Blackwell’s family was a mix of alien and human blood, thefirst few human experiments on mating with the supposedly immortal species of humanoidsknown as the ‘Durellians’. They were highly successful, with Blackwell’s own life being nearly570 mortal years long, whilst his physical body still being around 40 years old.

Blackwell and his retinue continued forward, wiping away the caked-up dust on his glassesand grey hair. They meandered into a green tent, made up of a plastic piece of cover over afew sticks, it was rudimentary at the least. “How is it?” Blackwell asked the nearby armypersonnel, who was busy typing away on a portable keyboard and project screen. Portablecomputers in the Federation normally are integrated within the keyboard mechanism, with asmall project at the front of the keyboard to project the screen, the projection only being seenby the person working on the computer, making private work much more easily accessible inpublic.

“Not well, my sir. Thankfully, most citizens have escaped, but the scans from our in-orbitsatellites has shown large amounts of rebel incursions within the city still looming around.Maybe we will need more men.” The soldier replied, still focused on the blue tint that is ap-pearing in front of his face.

Blackwell sighed, he knew that this time is bad, but not as bad as the All-Father Cult, right?“Also, they’ve killed the Governor.” Sturnn limped up next to Blackwell, fetching the

cigarette box from his inner coat pocket, picked up one of the white tubes filled with tobacco,and lit it up, drawing up a drag of soothing nicotine.

“You know how much I hate smoking.” Blackwell critiqued on Sturnn’s smoking habits,but deep within him he was thinking about what Sturnn said – killing the Planetary Governoris the highest punishable crime that any citizen can be charged by, only being surpassed byTreason against The Federation. The All-Father Cult never did anything in such calibre, onlyspreading their ways via killing lower class citizens, Blackwell knew that this bunch was evenworse.

11

“So, what do you want me to do then? It’s already lit.” Sturnn replied, cigarette in hismouth, and cane in his hand.

Blackwell sighed, waving his hand in front of his nose to flick away the smoke. The mensurrounding Blackwell and Sturnn ignored their small talk, instead opted to continue on theirwork.

“Any solution from you little head?” Sturnn asked, Blackwell stayed silent, looking over atthe opened tent door, through which Katherine and Rose walked in.

“I know.” Blackwell spoke with a sense of security, seemingly able to predict the future andhow the enemy will attack, “Summon the Fleet.”

“Which one sir?” The trusty and helpful Katherine asked.“The Starkiller Fleet.” Blackwell said, Sturnn heard his command, and immediately started

to shake his head in disapproval.“It’s not that serious, you don’t need to find them.” Sturnn replied, worried about some-

thing.“No, I’m not launching anything this time.” Blackwell said, sure about his decision, “The

men fears the Starkiller Fleet after what it has done to the past traitors. Fear will put them inline.”

“Yes sir.” Katherine interjected, and ever loyal, pulled out her tablet and called for theStarkiller Fleet. The tablets used by the Censor looks similar to modern tablets, but they aremuch thinner and easier to carry. Katherine spoke into it.

“This is the retinue of Officer Blackwell speaking, summon the Starkiller Fleet immediatelyand fly it to Kraskin Prime.”

“Yes miss. Admiral of the Starkiller Fleet is being informed.” The commander of the Grat-ifix Central Space station spoke into the microphone.

“If they try anything. Then we will fire, and the city shall be brought down in magma andflames of a thousand degrees.” Blackwell said, flames of fury brewing underneath his heart.

The Starkiller Fleet has only been used by Blackwell once, using the entire fleet’s firepowerto destroy the planet system that the All-Father Cult has rooted itself in. The fleet bears fire-power thousands of times bigger than any other in the entire Federal Navy, equipped withPlanet-cracking Hydrogen Missiles installed on the Starkiller-Prime-class Battleships. Onceunleashed whole planets can be erased into dust in mere minutes of time, but Blackwell al-ways hesitated in his youth to try and use the fleet, fearing its massive power will put offpeople from submitting to his rule. But now he has changed, he has grown older, and he knewthat only fear can put man in line.

4The large, arrow-shaped grey metallic ship meandered slowly through the starry night. It

was the capital ship of the Starkiller Fleet – Starkiller Prime, the first of its kind the Federationhas ever built – and within the gleaming helm stood the Admiral of Starkiller Fleet GeorgeFeitter, alongside his twelve-year old daughter Lily Feitter. Why he brought his daughterupon such a ship, one that has laid so much history for the Federation none of his men hasever understood, but with his office now tied figuratively with the Censor; no one dared toeven challenge any one of his decisions. Besides, Feitter is a well-educated man, and well-mannered, he knows what he is doing. His scarred left hand stroked his daughter’s blondehair, a feature inherited from himself, and looked at her standing right next to him with hisgreen eyes. His blonde hair was intermixed with grey strands, and his stature has begun towane, with his daughter slowly growing taller, someday surpassing himself. Although hisfamily was always of the stout figure, he hoped one day his daughter can be the first to be thetallest in the family.

“Father,” Lily asked, turning her head, and staring at her fathers aging face, “Where are we

12

going?”“My darling, Officer Blackwell requires our service.” He replied, staring into the night sky.“Who is he?” She asked, naively. Although she has met Blackwell many times – in fact

the order was laid by him to allow her on the Starkiller – she never has remembered who thatsincerely man is.

“The old man you always teased as a child.” Feitter replied, “You’ll need to remember whohe is. When I cannot assume helm anymore, it is you that will serve him with loyalty.”

“Yes, father.” She replied, understanding what her father wants her to know.“Stop here!” George barked out the order to his Captain, “And tell the others the same.”“Yes sir!” The Captain, a young, dark-haired bloke not older than twenty, replied to George’s

order, and laid down his hand on a thin microphone, speaking into it, “All ships, halt at currentposition!”

The ships, ranging from small frigates to large carriers and destroyers, alongside the 8Starkiller-Prime-class Battleships, halted their engines and began to orbit around KraskinPrime.

“Now, we’ll just wait for orders.” George said to his men. Some were busy clicking away atkeyboards, whilst some were busy looking at various screens and equipment charts. The whitehelm filled up with silence after George’s orders, and the men waited solemnly for commandsto fire.

“Sir, we’re picking up a transmission!” The Captain shouted over to George, “From Black-well.”

“Say it out loud.”“He is saying the rebels has surrendered after spotting the fleet entering orbit.”“Seems like fear has gripped them to their spines.” George spoke, walking back to his

Admiral’s chair at the helm, “Well, mission complete, then. Call the fleet back home. We can’twaste too much time.”

“Yes sir!” His men barked simultaneously.“Father?” Lily asked of her dad, now standing alone in the centre of the helm “What are

we doing now.”“Going home, and maybe get some cake.”

—–

0.5 Chapter Four

1Such similar events occurred all around the Federation during the transition of the so-

called ‘Old Republic’ to the ‘New Republic’. The dictatorial, corrupted rule of the previoussupposedly immortal ruler the Federal Director has alienated much of the masses of the peo-ple of the Federation. The Federal Director, in all of his glory, created the Federation fromthe sparsely populated planets of the Republics of United Planets – now the Federal Cen-tral Sector – and through the process of violent assimilation of any opposition, he createdthe massive political entity that is the Federation. He created the Federal Constitution, andcrafted the byzantine bureaucracy that now encompasses the highly complicated Federal gov-ernment. The armies he built, and the Censor he ordered, forcefully pushed any opponentsof his ‘Federal Centralist’ ideology to death, and created the large standstill of the ‘UniversalEquilibrium’ that is of the two federal-states of the large Milky Way Galaxy – the Federationand the Empire.

13

But, he wasn’t immune to internal conflict, and soon after his conquering of the territoriesthat now made the Federation’s current borders, the multitudes of leaders that ruled over theFederal armed forces, and the political organs of the Federal Parliament began the brutal ten-year power struggle known as the ‘Director’s Struggle’. The leaders fought over the positionof Federal Director for many years after his long absent from Parliament, leading troops at thefront line. The struggle ended with the Federal Director reforming politics once again, turn-ing the democratic state into an oligarchy, which lasted for the past fifteen thousand FederalStandard Years.

The ending of the oligarchy – now named by reformists as the ‘Old Republic’ – marked theculmination of the corrupted government’s imminent downfall. After the immortal FederalDirector’s body has become sick and elderly in 7,518 Federal Standard, he was enthroned uponthe Throne of Judgement, and ruled ever since with the empowerment of his trusted advisorsof the Federal Councils which governed under his name. In his absence, it may look like theFederal Council might have still governed normally, but internal reform was constant, and theleading faction known as the Observationists endeavoured in the return of the Federation toFederal Centralism. At last, with the Throne of Judgement assistance in the corpse-like FederalDirector’s last breath, the Observationists revolted. They returned back into the separation ofthe Federal Parliament; the Federal Departments; and the Federal Cabinet, forming legislator;governance; and executive branches respectively. The faction also broke down the FederalCourt into the Federal District Court; the Federal High Court; and the Federal Final Court.This was no easy task, as many still opposed them, but with the constant support of the Censor– which made a deal that their organisation will not be changed – the opposition died down,ushering in a new era. A New Republic.

2The transition was difficult for many, and the economy dipped as such, letting the Feder-

ation slip into a recession. The Federal Industrial Index reported 7,500 points drop accumu-lated within two years, dipping from 45,000 to 37,500 points and market loss of 70 trillionFederal Credits – around the total loss of 270 trillion US dollars. The people also revolted aswell; the heavy indoctrination of the Old Republic made many fearful of the liberal state thatthe Federation has turned into. Although the measure of ‘Dexterity’ within the economy –the introduction of both austerities and socialist policies – pushed the stagnant economy intoa standstill. But, with clever reforms made by the 1st Chancellor of the Federation RupertCopperfield and his Centralist cabinet; combined with the cooperation of many elements ofsociety, which included the workers that the Old Republic ignored, the reforms were quicklyadapted in Federal society.

The New Republic’s government was instrumental in the many reforms that the govern-ment carried out in the first few years of its founding. The radical changes it carried out for theprovincial autonomy of the regional states that encompasses the Federation, and the reformof the entirety of the government from an autocratic oligarchy back into a democratic federal-state was crucial in bringing back the former glories of the Federation before the Federal Direc-tor’s harsh takeover. The Centralist and Reformist cabinet that Chancellor Copperfield formedwere many of the frontbenchers of the Observationists Faction – later renamed into the Ob-servationists Party within the Federal Parliament – and which helped with the mass processesneeded to be carried out so that the Federation may transition smoothly and peacefully.

But there was opposition, like the rebels on Kraskin Prime, many began to violently fightagainst the New Republic’s ‘stripping of freedom’. Most of the rebels were already establishedbandits, the lowliest class of men that can be found in the Federation, the rebellions werequashed with ease, as the Censor – now sworn loyal to the new government – had sufficienttroops and firepower to either defeat or fearmonger them into submission. They were proven

14

to be a highly important asset to the government, and that would remain for many more years.

0.6 Chapter Five

“They’re doomed, no gain in saving them.”Colonel Bishop Brickston, when asked on whether or not to retreat the 7th Corps from Carocor-

pola.1 Blackwell reclined on his creaking birchwood chair, one that his great grandfather gave

to him as an inheritance gift. The fine smell only a chair of pure wood can produce travelled allaround the office his own office, on his own capital ship; a very small frigate which he lovinglyname ”The Tower” due to its helm being a large elusive tower. He can finally rest after sucha tiring day, sat on his most favourite chair, and reading one of his favourite classics , GeorgeOrwell’s 1984, which is now around 3,500 years old, being one of the few copies printed onTerra. His chair sat in front of a virtual fireplace, on his left a window peered onwards into theoblivion of space; sitting on the mantel were various small portraits of his childhood heroes,namely Napoleon Bonaparte, and Otto von Bismarck. Behind his chair is an oakwood table, satupon it his own personal computer a model that has a projectable privacy screen, standard formost Censor personnel and sat around it were different ornaments, including a golden wyvern,and different Imperial coinage given to him by merchants and traders. He flicked through hisbook, and sipped on his shot of whisky, which sat at the coffee table in front of his chair.

Blackwell zoned in onto his book, when suddenly Katherine walked in, holding a tablet ather left hand and asked, ”Sir? May I deliver a message on behave of the Starkiller Fleet?”

”Yes?””They’re in direct combat with the Imperial Navy forces, right at this moment.””So?” Blackwell replied, sipping on his whisky, the virtual fire burned in front of him,

”That affair is currently affecting my ability to drink!””No sir!” Katherine replied angrily, ”That means an active attempt to draw our country

into war!””Then what order do you want me to give?” Blackwell replied, the room grew back into

silence as the inevitable was asked. ”The order to fire or not.” 2 The starry night of the dark,silent universe glimmered outside the helm of Starkiller Prime. Feitter sat at his Admiral’schair, two fingers of whisky at his side. His crew was spread all around the helm, some werestaring at graphs, some were looking at red dials of different instruments. A few were satdirectly in front of him, one was his Quartermaster - his own daughter, whom he had trainedin her youth; another was the Chief Wheelman Harold Goodwin, and the last was the ChiefEngineer Karl Barelone. They were the main personnel in charge of the entire ship, whilst theAdmiral is busy commanding the entire fleet. On the outside of the helm sat the one-hundred-seventy-ship strong Starkiller Fleet, with the seven Starkiller-Prime-class Battleships all linedup horizontally next to the capital ship, ready to deliver its deadly salvoes when necessary.

”Sir!” Lily shouted over to her father, ”Unknown signatures are entering the system!”The fleet was trying to leave Kraskin Prime after Blackwell’s immediate orders for it to

arrive at the planet, and they expected no more resistance from the rebels can come anymore.But, Feitter was cunning and prepared, he knew that the rebellion wasn’t such insignificantgroup of rioters; he knew someone or something was behind them all along. Thus, he attachedanother medium sized Navy Fleet, equipped with thirty cruisers and seventeen destroyers; itwas the arrangement of many other Cruiser Fleets that the Federation uses, and this one wascommanded by Feitter’s long-time friend, Admiral Zulorn. The cruiser fleet will thus supplythe already powerful Starkiller Fleet with even more firepower if necessary, and it does looklike Feitter’s predictions were correct.

15

”What does it look like?”, Feitter asked his daughter, sipping on his whisky.”A red mess, sir!” Lily replied. The radars the Federal ships were equipped with utilised

electromagnetic pulses, and due to the fundamental metals that Imperial ships are made of - amixture of silver and tin - the higher chemical density of the two metals will emit a red colour,to indicate its higher atomic mass.

”Imperials.” Feitter whispered to himself, and order his men, ”Alert Zulorn, get all of ourships in attack mode, and get ready for a fight. This won’t be easy!”

”Good predictions again, sir!” Harold complemented Feitter, the commander that he hasalways looked up to.

”Yes sir!” The other crewmen shouted back to Feitter’s orders, and pressed on various but-tons. Suddenly, a blue screen appeared in front of Feitter, and it showed Zulorn’s elderly faceof wrinkles, and a greyish tint of hair dangled on his head.

”Zulorn! Imperial ships are coming! Arm you men!” Feitter ordered his trusted peer.”Yes, my Admiral!” Zulorn replied. Although technically Feitter’s rank should be High

Admiral, in his insistence everyone serving under him still refers to him as Admiral, no oneever understood why, and Feitter himself never explained. He quickly put on his leather glove- he only had ever worn it on his left hand, to hide the scars of war - and quickly reassumedbattle command of his ship.

Most, if not all, admirals of the Federal Navy wears gloves in commanding battles. Thestaple leather gloves have now become a signature of Navy uniform, with each admiral issuedwith one pair of cow leather gloves. Feitter has never put the right glove on his respective hand,and only has ever put on the left glove to ’cover up my cowardice’, and that special featurehas earned him the moniker ”The Gloved Admiral”. Feitter sat up straight, and downed theremaining whisky in his cup.

3In the distance, a black twirling mixture of stars and dust began to appear. Feitter looked

at the opening, a stern face appearing through his wrinkles. Nearby, his men dashed aroundthe millions of dark panels that was splattered all around the helm’s face, and Karl shoutedthe line that Feitter despised.

”Imperial combat vessels nearby! Defences online!”Feitter knew that the Imperial Navy is breaching the closest peace treaty - the Treaty of

Kalune, the newest one made by the delegations of both sides - and immediately breaches thenewest doctrine the Empire is undertaking, the ’Silent Doctrine’ which dictates all Imperialmilitary assets should not open fire unless urged or teased by outer forces.

”If they fire at us, fire back.” Feitter ordered Karl, who also delegated combat duties toother vessels.

”But sir,” Lily asked, swinging her seat to face her father, ”Shouldn’t we ask Officer Black-well about this? We are under his direct command after all.”

”f we had the time, darling.” Feitter replied, ”The entire fleet would have already beenblown up into tiny pieces.”

Lily swung her seat back, and began to look at the various panels that sat before her. Shewondered whether or not she could live through another war. In her short life, she hasn’t seenthe Federation out of war for more than three years, and most of them end up with stalematesagainst the Empire. The treaties that are signed later never ends up enacted for two years, andthe two powers would once again try and shoot up each other’s men.

”Sir, they look like they are just passing by.” Karl asked his superior, ”Should we fire awarning -.”

”Do not fire at anything!” Feitter warned angrily, ”If we are to breach the treaty, the Fed-eration would be dragged into another new war! This ’New Republic’ of ours would fall even

16

quicker than you think!””But they are trespassing into Federal territories.” Karl responded, swirling his chair to

face Feitter.”Do you want a long, fulfilling life?” Feitter asked, slowly leaning forward and facing Karl,

”Or do you want a life marked by war and misery?””Then, we’ll fire when they fire.” Karl spoke back.The two fleets moved forward, closing in the distance between them. The Imperial fleet is

vastly outnumbered and outgunned by the Federal one, and the Starkiller-Prime battleship’sone full salvo could easily wipe out the entire fleet. The Federals waited silently for the firstshots.

The salvo came suddenly, directly hitting one of Zulorn’s cruisers spearheading the de-fence.

”Direct hit sir!” Karl said to Feitter, shocked at the outrage of the Imperial Navy.”Fire back!” Feitter commanded a simple order, ”Order the full fleet to fire back!”The combined salvos of missiles, gun batteries, and laser cannons propelled shell after

shell. The night sky casted by a frenzy of red and yellow, the Imperial fleet was soon wipedout by the Federal fleet’s vastly superior guns, and the Federals retreated back to base. It wasthe start of the New Republic, and the start was marred by fire and fury; iron and blood.

0.7 Chapter Six

1“What?” Blackwell said, whisky in his hand.“It doesn’t matter what order we give,” Katherine replied, file clutched between her hands,

“They had fired.”Blackwell sighed, and downed the remaining elixir. That act of retaliation meant that

they had breached the treaty first, and they had proclaimed war against the Imperials in thereturning salvo. It wouldn’t be a pretty war.

“Alert the Federal government, and tell them to usher in more forces to the front.” Black-well ordered back, and laid down his cup, “This ‘New Republic’ of theirs have another war attheir hands.”

The promises the new government swear they shall protect – peace, prosperity, and secu-rity – was breached. The people were already angered by the regime change, and now anotherwar would mean the government has failed in its first few months. It would be another fewmore tiring years of governance for the first Chancellor ever in effective power.

“Why did Feitter fire?” Blackwell asked, “He knew this would happen.”“His fleet is a capital fleet, and the Imperial fleet was just a small destroyer fleet.” Katherine

replied, her face grew concerned.“Well,” Blackwell said, looking outside of his window into the dark gloomy sky, ”He did

defend what he needs to, the interests of the country. But the Federation will now need tonegotiate whether or not they had exercised too much force once again, and that would onlybe the icing of the cake.”

2“Officer Blackwell of the Censor has just reported that the Starkiller Fleet has opened fire

upon a trespassing Imperial fleet within Gratifix Sector, the enemy fleet has been utterly anni-hilated and the Starkiller Fleet has not sustained any casualties”, The Minister of the InteriorGeorge Peterling spoke, holding the report sent from Katherine.

The Federal ‘government’ as most citizens referred to it, was actually the Federal Cabinet,which governed the daily running of the Federation. The Federation has three branches with

17

executive and legislation powers, all of which had checks and balances between each other.The Federal Cabinet, and the Federal Departments took care of executive and direct gover-nance, with the Cabinet making the decisions and the Departments doing the dirty work. Alllaws and decrees must be debated thrice and passed by the Parliament into legality, and thebranches balanced power via high dependence on each branch; being that the Cabinet’s rul-ings must be debated and passed by the Parliament, and the Department’s governance mustbe oversighted by the Cabinet.

“Starkiller Fleet knows this means war.” The Minister of Foreign Affairs Henry Ainsworthsaid, fidgeting with his pen.

Somehow, the entire Cabinet that the newly-elected Chancellor picked were all British,despite the Federation having many other nationalities within it. Many of the elite that theFederal Director left in his wake was not selected by the highly centrist and conservative Chan-cellor, who himself read a large amount of realist work, and believes that a country with anypolitical parties would hinder its ability to govern. The realist approach to politics forced himto not pick the many man that has fractured political leanings, but instead picked other morerealist politicians.

“Well, it doesn’t mean that we must use our large armies to crush them.” The Chancellorfinally spoke, his green eyes looking at his Cabinet, and his greying blonde hair radiated anaura of authority. “Poking at them would have already frightened them. The Starkiller Fleet isthe most powerful fleet in this universe, they had received the warning.”

“This is provoking war against them, sir, we cannot simply see this as a warning shot.”Peterling spoke, reminding the Chancellor of such decision’s effect.

“But we haven’t sent more against them, they know now that trespassing our territorymeans certain death.”

“Sir, at this point,” Ainsworth responded, “Us shooting at them after the provocation salvomeans that we are the aggressors. Not matter what we had or had not done, the first shots thatwould destroy another fleet would mean the proclamation of war.”

“Then.” The Chancellor spoke, the rest of the ministers quieting down, “This may meanthat we destroyed one of their fleets, but doesn’t mean that we were the first to provoke theshots. They fired first, and they bear the responsibilities of such shots. The destruction of suchfleet means that we have told them the effects the provocation will cause, and if they try again,we will declare war.”

“Sir,” Ainsworth replied, “They have tried again, the Starkiller Fleet enroute back to basehas been fired upon by Imperial military vessels.”

“Then they haven’t received the warning.” The Chancellor spoke, staring at Ainsworth’sscarred face.

“What are your orders, sir?” Peterling asked the Chancellor.“Convene the generals and pass an act for proclamation of war against the Empire to the

Parliament. We may have promised peace, but the inevitable must occur. We cannot hold thepast to its sins, but we can hold the future for its virtues.”

3“Today, the Parliament shall debate on Decree 117 ‘On The Act of Declaration of War

against the Empire’! Fear not, for both sides of the debate shall be heard! For now, the Govern-ment’s side shall be heard in silence for pain of imprisonment! Prime Minister, please rise!”The Speaker of the House Richard Feidder spoke to the packed Parliament Hall, to which thedominant party that won the most votes – the Observationists – sits on the left of the Speaker’sPodium. The main opposition – the left-wing and centralist Sorenalists – sits right next to theObservationists, and leads the remaining scattered political opposition known as the ‘SmallOpposition’; with the Sorenalists being ‘Large Opposition’ respectively. At the podium, the

18

Dean, and the Barrister of the Parliament sits right underneath the Speaker, who sits at the topof the Speaker’s Podium, with the Chancellor squeezed in between the Dean and Barrister. ThePrime Minister of the Federation Paul Learnold – whom is the Head of Government and theFederal Director of the Federal Departments, and whom will be heading cases of declarationof war - rose from his frontbench seat, which was the line of seats that were at the front ofthe party. He held a piece of paper, presumably the opening statements of the government’sdecree, and walked up to the podium in front of the Observationists.

“The Federal Government, hereby, proclaims such Decree of number 117.” Prime MinisterLearnold addressed his fellow Members, declaring such decree has been put up for debate,“Such decree orders the government’s various organs of political, military, and economicalpower to empower each other and lead each other in the duly times of such crisis. Such procla-mation has been put forward due to concerns against the agitations of our military vessels, andas such has damaged Federal interests within its own national security. Therefore, such decreeshall be tabled and debated for review and declaration of war against such agitator.”

The Prime Minister returned to his party and took his seat. The government has expectedvehement opposition from the Sorenalists – which is the centre-left of the government andhas proposed many of the decrees that has brought in worker’s rights, social welfare for themasses, and overall social democratic economic change – as the party has opposed each wardecree set out by the government, and would not want any wars within the next twenty-fiveyears.

“May the opposition deliver their case.” The Speaker commanded, and the Oppositionleader – Chairperson of the Sorenalists Party Leon Raeder – walked forward to the Opposition’sown podium.

“His Honourable Chancellor, Prime Minister, and the Federal government. From my ownparty’s observations, the news that the government has sent out to their fellow parties is thatthe Starkiller Fleet opened fire at a small Imperial destroyer fleet. Such actions were prompteddue to the Imperial fleet opening fire at the powerful Starkiller Fleet, and as such the StarkillerAdmiral feared for his own country’s interest and security, opened fire upon the smaller Im-perial fleet and destroyed it.” Chairperson Raeder spoke to the Hall, his scarred face and greybeard reminded him of his past deeds. His previous career in the army lent him large amountsof trauma and experience, which has shaped his own views on war. He had always thoughtthat war is senseless and urges the government to learn from its own mistakes.

“But, in such times of desperate needs.” He continued, “The Federation’s own security isat stake, and such monumentous deeds of protection of our people and our sovereignty mustbe upheld and must not be forgotten. Our party stands resolute with the government andbelieves that war must be declared after such agitations.”

Roars of surprise ruptured from the Members. The Sorenalists has never approved of warwith any other nation-state, not even one with the archnemesis of the Federation. Such uproarfrom the peaceful party was not seen forever and came to a surprise to the Members.

“Well,” The Speaker finally spoke once again, breaking up the flabbergasted Members, “Asopposition and government both approve of such decree. After the gavel has struck thrice,with no opposition, we shall pass this into decree.”

The Barrister, after hearing the order to strike the gavel before a vote, was surprised. But,the orders of the Speakers must be followed in the Parliament, and he shall follow it.

The gavel struck once, twice, and thrice. No Members made any movement or shouted‘Objection’ at any of the strikes.

“The decree has passed into law.” The Speaker said, “And the government shall followthe decree’s orders and bring enough supplies for war against the Empire. Parliament is ad-journed! Parliament is adjourned!”

19

The gavel struck again, and the Members stood up from their seats and made their way tothe main entrance.

0.8 Chapter Seven

1“Nuts! Nuts! Nuts!” Blackwell shouted; Katherine stood next to him.Blackwell was sitting at his office chair, an ornamented oakwood recliner. No one around

has ever understood why he has a recliner in his office, but everyone knows not to challenge aCensor Officer.

“The Federal government is now sending men through Gratifix to fight on the Right.”Katherine relayed the information she had received from the Federal Department of Inter-nal Affairs. The Milky Way, in the Federal sense, is divided between three military fronts. TheLeft, which spans the galactic left, and encompasses the lands of the Kolerean Republic; TheMiddle, which spans the Multinational Republics; and The Right, the lands of the Gratifix andits neighbouring Republic of Gylune.

“How can they declare war on them?” Blackwell asked, his eyebrows curling up. “Theyknow how horrid a war like that can become.”

“Sir,” Katherine said, “Seems like they want to remind the Empire not to mess with us.”“There are other ways.” Blackwell replied. He had seen many wars and accompanied near

the entirety of the Federation’s Old Republic’s countless missteps. He always remembers hisfirst few weeks at Gratifix, how naıve and benign was his actions; he couldn’t even point apistol at a soon-to-be dead political prisoner. He was innocent, but after these many yearsserving the Censor, and so many people that he had known as friends die, so many nemeses beshot in front of his eyes, he had become emotionless. The once painful cries and shrieks thathe emits from each shot have been replaced with bloodthirsty coldness and ruthless glances.He had learnt in his long life what should and shouldn’t a government do, and he knows, thatit would cause many lives so that the message can be delivered.

“And they have chosen the worst way possible.”2The bar was dim, neon lights on the far corners of the ceilings gave a small sense of kin-

dling for the lonely men. It was heavily crowded around the different individual tables andchairs, the lights casting a weird greenish and bluish hues on people’s faces. Many at the deskswere smoking, large clouds of smoke fogged up the bar. Shots of scotch and pints of beerwere quickly delivered one after another in the crowded rooms, the bartenders trying to shovethrough the large mess of the crowded people. The only solitude place was the roundtablenext to the barman, who were mixing cocktails for few people that were sitting around him.The roundtable at any bar in the Federation has always been the most silent places, with onlythe few solitude men – normally journalists or scholars, the only intelligent kind of the world– sat around the wooden table. The barman served up another gin and tonic to the coatedfigure, one who was wearing a leather greatcoat and a brown fedora.

“Business been a lot brighter this past few days.” The figure said with his scratchy voice.“You journalists are quite the opposite of businessmen.” The barman replied, taking the

emptied cup in front of the figure. “If it’s actually brighter, then you wouldn’t have any room.”“This is better than having no one in the bar.” The journalist said back, “Business been

slowing down in the Federation, don’t expect good things.”“Heh,” the barman said to him, looking at the journalist, who was looking down solemnly

at his drink, “Paul, you never rest with your metaphors.”

20

“No, I’m serious.” Paul replied, lifting up his head and revealing his face. A war-torn face,one that produced many scars, and can frighten anyone coming close to him. One large slashwent across his worn appearance, his green eyes alluding a sense of anger. “Something bad isgonna happen.”

“Why? I don’t think any—” The barman’s question was cut short with the sudden creakof the teleprojector that sat right next to him. The teleprojector lit up, and a screen was pro-jected on the opposite wall. It showed the news channel, with the robotic voice announcing,“Breaking News!”.

A newscaster appeared sat in front of a table. Paul turned around as the man began tospeak.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for tuning in to the FNB.” The newscaster paused fora short moment, taking in a deep breath, and then continued, “This is just in! the Federalgovernment has passed decree within the Parliament to declare war against the Empire! Thisis just in! The Federal government has passed decree within the Parliament to declare waragainst the Empire!”

The entire bar’s crowds were all fixated onto the projection, breathing in sighs of sur-prise and scaredness. The newly installed government promised the people not to declarewar within the next twenty-five years, but the promises were broken immediately for the gov-ernment’s own gain. Paul knew nothing had changed within the scene of Federal cutthroatpolitics, and he thought this was no surprise.

“The government will soon announce plans for conscription! Sources has stated that allable-bodied men aged eighteen to twenty will be drafted into the various branches of thearmed forces in preparations for large troop movements!” The newscaster ended the speech.The crowds of rowdy men already beginning on discussions of such actions. Paul downed therest of his drink, and plopped a five Federal credits bill onto the smooth wooden surface.

“This is for the round, barman.” Paul told the barman, who was still surprised at suchannouncement. Paul stood up, and looked at the unmoving barman. He looked at the fatmiddle-aged man, who looked at him with a confused face.

“This is it? You normally drink more than that.” The barman asked, taking away the re-maining cup.

“Well,” Paul replied, nodding his head, “Sounds like I got work to do.”4Paul walked out of the bar via the adjacent pathway into the Ship dock. Crewmen were

dashing around, driving oil tankers and hauling different engineering equipment. He walkedup right next to a gleaming angel of a ship – the Federal Clipper – which was his own ship.Looking around, none other were more majestic or beautiful than the Clipper; most wererugged trading vessels or smuggling ships. But the Clipper was the only one that was worth aman’s heart. The Federal Clipper were a small ship, around twenty meters long, and were ofan oblong shape. The Clipper sported a white livery, and two X50 engines, capable of a jumprange of around twenty lightyears. The two circular engines protruded out of the ship’s bothsides, and both ends of it were glowing blue. The ship sported the shape of a Terran Blackbird,a ship many of this day and age would have already forgotten about, but its sleek shape canstill be seen sported with this ship.

Owning a spaceship, admittingly a small one, were a common commodity for a normalFederal citizen. Many middle-class individuals and families have one, making them similarto our modern-day car. The peculiar thing about the Federal Clipper was one property of it –only journalists can acquire one. Most Clippers would be issued for free by each independentpress agency at the time of employment, and the ability to acquire one with capital would beimmediately issued after each Journalist has earned their “Federal License of Journalism”. The

21

Clipper was one of the many perks of becoming a Journalist within Federal society – amongsthigh pension funds, excellent social welfare, and many others – and was one of the main thingsthat attracts people to try for a Degree of Journalism from the multitudes of universities, butthe degree took a long time for most people – a minimum of eight years of study – and wasno different for Paul. Paul liked being a Journalist, and loved his Clipper more than any otherwoman.

The Clipper detected the owner’s key, which was in Paul’s left trouser pocket, and extendedits doors, and out came a pair of stairs. Smoke jetted out of the many pipe that surrounded theship, letting out built up steam from the landing. It takes a long time to jet out all of the smoke,considering the Clipper is the fastest ship within the whole Federation, and was enough timefor a few drinks. There wasn’t a Federal law that prohibited drinking and piloting, as the shipdoes most of the work for the pilot.

“Have you refuelled it yet?” Paul shouted over to a young man smoking.“Yes sir!” He shouted back, “That will be fifty!”Paul walked up to him, and handed him fifty Federal credits. Federal credits were all

printed on Kranak, and spotted a green colour from the specific dye that can only be extractedfrom Kranak. Paul walked back up to his ship, and boarded it.

The Clipper’s stairwell leads him into the cargo bay, which was filled with his personalstuff, and he walked up to the lift. It opened the doors automatically, detecting the familiarheat signature of his body, and allowed Paul to enter. He pressed the “2” key on the pad,and the lift elevated him to the pilot’s level. The doors reopened, and he walked out into thecentral hallway.

The hallway contained several doors and exits. One on the left were the engine bay, whichlead up to the maintenance space for the two engines; another next to it were the Hyperdrivebay, which lead him to the Quantum Hyperdrive; and another right in front of him werethe Comms and Radar Hub, which lead him to maintenance space for communication relaysand atomic scanners. None were in his concern, however, as he walked up to the door labelled“Pilot’s room” and pressed his thumb onto the fingerprint detector, which glowed with a brightblue hue. It finished its scan, and opened the doors to the pilot’s chair, which was swivelledto meet Paul, and he sat down on it. The doors closed, and he was moved backwards andswivelled back to meet the cockpit.

Paul pressed the engine start-up, and heard the infamous “Thump thump” sounds of theX50 engine. The multitude of displays and panels emitted an orange hue onto his face, andbegged him to start pressing. He pressed on a display on his left a button labelled ‘Map’, andit revealed the galactical map. He searched up the planet “Gronok”, and the map displayedthe route to it. He then pressed another button labelled “Plot course”. The ship announced ina robotic, female voice, “Plotting course to Gronok Orbital Station.”

The ship rumbled and shook, lifting off after Paul’s commands, and blasted away from theShip dock. The female voice announced again, “Launching into local orbit”, and the enginesstarted to spool away, and with a quick blast, jetted Paul away into low orbit.

5The Federal Clipper zipped into view, and entered orbit around the brown, dusty planet.

A dust storm can be seen brewing, slowly crawling to the metallic scatter that was the portcity of Zara. Paul looked forward, in the further distance a few other spaceships and merchantfleets can be seen, trying to gain access to the port city via contacting the nearby space station.Radio chatter was frequent, disturbing the silence of the Clipper.

“Merchant Fleet XQF-4, please tell me your license number and registration.” The airspacecontroller in the space station called for Fleet XQF-4, which was mere yards away from thestruts of the space station. The Fleet had around twenty to thirty ships, from what Paul can

22

observe, and is considered a medium-sized fleet. Paul waited for the reply, so that he canrequest access to jump.

“Control, this is XQF-4, License is Form 4 2245, Registration number 330-6549.” The cap-tain replied. Paul heard the license number, and immediately knew that it carried dangerouschemicals, for Form 4 are for cargo that are toxic or dangerous chemicals; the number after itregisters it as the 2245 fleet within the Federation with that form. The registration number isdivided into two parts, separated by a dash. The first part is district number, as the Federationis also distributed in districts, and millions exist within the Federation. The second part is fleetnumber, which dictates the fleet’s position within the district. Dominion trading fleets do nothave the first part, instead they are all denoted with “DMN” followed by their fleet numberwithin the Dominion.

“Control, this is QFG-2, requesting hyperjump permission for Gronok Space Station.” Paulrequested to control, his ship still hovering above the planet.

“QFG-2, hyperjump is allowed, hyperjump is allowed.” Control replied to Paul’s request.Ships leaving any planet and thus passing by its space station does not need to report theirlicense and registration, as they had already given it to control when entering.

“Copy, control.” Paul replied in his smoky voice, his hands now hovering above the screenon his right.

Paul clicked on the screen, the words “Activate Jump drive” appearing before his eyes. Hepressed on it, and whirling sounds can immediately be heard, signalling the drive has startedto spool up. The Hyperjump Drive commonly used by smaller spacecraft injects hydrogen intothe normal engines so that the speed can be dramatically increased in a short amount of time.“Injection completed, Jump ready.” The onboard computer announced.

Paul pushed on a few levers in front of him, labelled ‘engine thrust’, and the ship shookviolently and shot forward. The ship’s engines whirled and hummed, as the ship was pro-pelled into high speeds and entered hyperspace. In hyperspace, ships travel much quickerthan normal reality, and shortens travelling time. “Remaining time fifteen minutes.” The on-board computer said, her robotic voice announcing through the strident engines. Stars burstaround the ship, as space warps around the travelling spacecraft. The cockpit fell silent.

0.9 Chapter Eight

1“Plot a course to Terra.” Blackwell walked into his frigate’s bridge. The bridge was full of

men, officers looking at various instruments, others sat in front of large quantum computers,reading off their giant screens data sent from the Audit.

“Never seen you so early, sir.” Katherine replied, she sat in front of the standing Blackwell,piloting his ship. The frigate has followed Blackwell for nearly the entire span of his termas Censor Officer, and Blackwell has grown akin to the inanimate object more than anythingelse, which was rare for him. He never developed love for anything, in fact he cannot feel theemotions of love, as Durrellians did not experience love and will only mate with others whenan outside force compels them to. Blackwell always thought that this side of him liking hisship must be the only few fragments of humanity in him.

“Are you saying your Officer wakes up too late for your liking?” Blackwell remarked harshly,standing behind Katherine with a menacing gaze and fierce grip on her chair.

“No sir.” Katherine replied, “I just want to know the peculiar reason for your rise.”“The news you brought me yesterday,” Blackwell replied, staring into the distance, his

voice filled with dread, “alarmed me, and kept me awake last night.”“Oh. . . ” Katherine said an empty comeback.

23

“So, we are still going to Terra?” Rose asked, her head already tiled left to her colleagues,and it resting on her right hand, tightened to a fist, “Or are we going to the island of love?”

Katherine blushed at that remark. Durrellian men are very attractive in nature, and Black-well was no different. His stout figure may be very old in mortal years, but his physique is stillin its peak form.

“You’re right, Rose.” Blackwell replied, unfazed by the offhand question. He was used tohis officers liking him, admittingly too much, “I have never had anyone ask me why I had risenso early in my life.”

“You two shut up!” Katherine shouted; her face blushed like a peach. She clearly didn’tlike what Rose is insinuating.

“Don’t forget to plot a course to Terra, darling.” Blackwell said to Katherine, patting herright shoulder, “I’ll go get some breakfast, and I’ll come back to you soon.”

He walked away from Katherine and Rose, who was seating at the captain’s area; just centreof the bridge. Blackwell walked up to the bridge’s door, and it automatically opened, identify-ing Blackwell. Katherine still didn’t know why he wanted to go to Terra, as any Censor Officergoing to Terra normally means something very appalling has happened. But Blackwell did sayhe will go back to the bridge after breakfast.

2“Had they changed the flour they use in their scones?” Blackwell walked back into the

bridge, asking a peculiar question. No one answered back, with Katherine focused on hermonitor, and Rose fidgeting around with an Imperial Wyvern that she has placed in front ofher as an ornament.

“Why is no one answering me?”“Sir.” Katherine replied, still fixated on her screen, “No one knows the answer to that.”“Well, wouldn’t you know? The quartermaster is under your command.”“You’ve sacked the quartermaster three months ago, dad!” Katherine shouted back. The

room fell into silence. The clicking keyboards stopped, the scientists stopped looking atgraphs, and the engineers stopped plotting on charts.

“Katherine, did you just call him dad?” Rose looked at Katherine with a stare of disap-proval.

“If you consider me as a father figure, we can discuss the circumstances of the sacking ata game of bowling.” Blackwell stood behind Katherine, looking down on her like a reassuringfather.

The room erupted into laughter, as the crew has never heard of Blackwell’s retinue sokindly refer to him as a father. Not that Blackwell liked it, but he played along; finding it veryspecial that one of his men will say that. Katherine blushed even redder this time.

“This is what psychologists called, a Freudian Slip.” Blackwell lectured his men on theTerran term, “Which occurs when you say something that shouldn’t have been said. Now getback to work!”

His order brought the crew back into the frenzy before.“But I still don’t understand why you are going to Terra.” Katherine asked, her cheeks still

pink like candy floss.“Well.” Blackwell looked onto the stars zipping around the bridge. The ship was already

travelling at a high speed, “I need to tell the old men that the elder knows better.”3“Entering Terran jump point orbit.” The Frigate’s onboard computer announced into the

bridge. Some of the crewmen were crowded around a graph plotter, which was sat in frontof Katherine and Rose. The large table luminated the men’s faces with a neon green hue, andshowed the ship’s age – modern Federal Frigates does not use graph plotters, instead they have

24

a separate crew of plotters that use a singular computer with different monitors to calculatethe route -.

“How far are we away from Terra?” Katherine asked the men crowded around the metallictable; like a bunch of colonists charting a route back to home.

“Give us twenty minutes, madam!” One of the crewmen, who was wearing a beret andstood tall amongst the men, shouted back. He was the head of navigation Derek Brumaire,and has accompanied Blackwell’s ship for quite some time.

“Why would that be?” Katherine asked, puzzled by the trouble the ship has met in travel-ling to Terra.

“The Federal government issued an embargo on all ships entering Terra.” Derek replied,“If the ship bears weapons, they must apply for special passage.”

Blackwell walked in when Derek finished his reply, holding a cup of tea in his hands. Hestood behind Katherine and Rose, and ordered, “Go through the jump point. They wouldshoot a Censor’s ship.”

“Yes sir!” Derek replied, his moustache twitched alongside his speech. He looked at themen with a sincere look, “Plot a way through the point.”

“Brace for jump! Brace for jump!” Katherine shouted at the crewmen. Many clenched ontotheir seats, whilst the men bundled around the graph plotter held onto the sturdy table.

“Would you mind me grabbing onto you two’s seats?” Blackwell asked condescendingly,and held onto the leather chairs.

“Of course, sir.” Katherine replied, looking up to her superior.“Yes sir.” Rose replied more coldly.The ship slowed down, and the zipping stars returned back into seemingly stationary plan-

ets. In front of the frigate was an opening back into realspace, one which a purple circletwirled around it. That was the Terran Jump Point, and older ships like Blackwell’s need toutilise them in order to travel around space. The ship yanked forward in a swift motion, andpropelled itself into the Jump Point, and re-entered realspace.

4The beautiful Solar System, one which was the start of the Federation; one which was the

bastion of human life, sprawled into view. The Terran Jump Point was closer to Terra – thecapital – than any other Jump Point. The frigate slowed down, and approached a tower-likespire, which sat right in front of the bright blue planet.

“Blackwell’s ship, calling Terran Space Station. Requesting entry into Terra.” Katherinespoke into the microphone right next to her. Ships that belonged to a Censor’s Officer does notneed to register their code each time they request passage.

“Copy, Terran entry is permitted. Switch all weapons to safety mode.” Terran Space Stationreplied. Usually, Censor ships do not need to switch off weapons, so that they may have someamount of self-defence. Only in times of war will all ships entering Terra be requested toswitch off weapons.

“Copy.” Katherine spoke a bland reply back.The frigate’s weapons can be heard humming throughout the ship, slowly turning down

one note and becoming ever so softer. “Safety mode on.” The female robotic voice spoke again,“All weapon’s power diverted to engines and shields.”

“Jump to orbit.” Katherine told her men. The ship effectively was Blackwell’s, but he neveractually commanded it directly, only using it as a command vessel.

“Jumping to orbit, madam!” A figure that stood in front of Katherine, a little off to the left,replied. She was a youthful blond, filled with zest, and no more than twenty. She hasn’t seenwar or famine; making Blackwell not putting his full trust into her, and not allowing her intohis retinue. She was head of engineering Emma Gorelov, and Blackwell thought of her as a

25

liability. Blackwell picked Katherine for that reason alone: that she seemed more humane,and more ‘real’ to him. He looked at her with hateful eyes, but no human can differentiatebetween hate and love from a Durrellian, as their faces never really express emotions.

The ship hummed louder, and waltzed down onto Terran surface in a blink of an eye. Theold cities of Terra filled up Blackwell’s eyes. He adored the city, and it was one of the reasonsthat made him join the Censor, so that he may visit Terra ever so often.

5The Chancellor sat solitary within his room. It was painted entirely red, a paint job done

long before his age. A gramophone sat on the left of his table; records filed neatly in cabi-nets. On the right were birchwood filing cabinets, which coupled well with his office table;which was also made of birchwood. One of the few things the Director left behind was theChancellor’s table, and was also one of the few things The Chancellor did not throw away.

The middle-aged man was full of wrinkles, a brownish pipe laid on his lips, blowing awayclouds of smoke. The Chancellor smoked like many of his generation, and he loved a pipe withfashionable Aurelian Blend. That special tobacco blend can only be found and cultivated enmasse on the Aurelia planet, and was filled with a rich; almost syrupy-kind of taste. He bit onit, drawing small drags of the smoke into his mouth, filling it up with sweet nicotine. Lettingit out was another thing, and he savoured the taste of the tobacco that lingered on his tongue.His stare was struggling on a piece of paper, one with long lines of dark words.

“Officer Blackwell calls for audience with The Chancellor, sir!” The guard posted outsideof his door shouted into the room.

“Come in!” The Chancellor shouted back, biting hard on the end of his pipe.The door swung open, and in came Blackwell standing tall and high. His powerful stare

alerted The Chancellor, who only glanced up for half a second.“The New meets The Old.” Blackwell spoke. This was the first time that he had met The

Chancellor face to face, as he was busy with work on his inauguration.“I thought two eunuchs followed you around.” The Chancellor replied with a snarky tone.

Blackwell always had his retinue around, but when the needs arises for him to meet politicalofficials, he always tells them to stay behind. He knew politicians wasn’t the kindest kind ofpeople.

“I never expected a gentleman like you refer to them like that.” Blackwell replied, angerwithin his undertone. “They work for me.”

“So, what do you want from me?” The Chancellor asked, hearing Blackwell’s anger brew-ing. He looked up, pipe still in his mouth, to a stare that brought him fear. His eyes darted tothe open door.

“Close it won’t you, guards!”“I’m asking of you,” Blackwell spoke with his menacing stare still transfixed onto The

Chancellor’s face. Blackwell’s arms were crossed, his face even more cross. “To stop the warwith the Imperials.”

“It is a challenging decision.” The Chancellor spoke back, “One which the cabinet knewwith full certainty that we will get backlash, and we did.”

“What? An entity older than your entire country standing in front of you? A medicalmarvel with a mind of a thousand humans holding in the urge to punch you?”

“No.” The Chancellor’s reply was cold, his hand reached for his pipe, and he finally laidit down onto the golden ashtray in front of him, “A lashing worse than anything you canimagine.”

The guards finally closed the wooden door. They knew something Blackwell did not.“The Republic of Osstellesia.” The Chancellor spoke with his posh British accent, “Has two

autonomous parts to it due to its large size: The North and the South. Both have different gov-

26

ernors, and the lady that rules the Republic of South Osstellesia vowed to her voters that shewill never allow war for her state. We had drag her into one, so she declared independence.”

Blackwell nodded at the news, one which he felt wasn’t surprising; the Governess neverreally cared about the Federal government.

“But that isn’t the worst.” The Chancellor continued, “The Multinational Republics, onewhich borders the Empire; and one that we had suspected from the start that hid revolution-aries, took the chance of war and declared revolution. The local government, alongside itsarmies, cannot defeat the socialist revolutionaries. They had declared independence thirteendays after the start of their revolution. The Multinational Republics no longer is its formerself. We now refer to it as the Soviet Republics.”

“A socialist state.” Blackwell replied. He knew anything that started with Soviet wouldresult in socialism.

“Yes.” The Chancellor spoke, “And fortunately the Empire had signed a peace treaty while,I presume, you were travelling to here. We now fight a war with our own men, no longer ournemeses.”

“Well,” Blackwell replied, his face calming down from his anger, “I’ll leave you to it.”“Very well, Officer Blackwell.” The Chancellor replied.Blackwell walked out of the room, and back into the alleys of the Halls of the Federal

Parliament. He had bad news to break to his men.

0.10 Chapter Nine

1Blackwell walked back out to the landing pad, which was in the garden behind the Halls

of the Federal Parliament. The white marble pillars held up the vast alabaster pediment, dec-orations on the pediment depicted Gods and Kings standing heroically, in the middle wasLady Justice looking down holding her balance and sword. On top was the Federal Directoron horseback – although he may be the dictator the New Republic overthrew, his legacy stillremains being that he was the founder of the Federation, the New Republic have never dis-mantled that statue – and the sun shone on his gleaming face. Blackwell’s personnel carrierwas waiting for him, a couple flights of stairs extending from the right. The crystal-clear shiphad two engines extending from its back, a mark that is only given to Federal Clippers. Hiswas one of the older models, as can be seen from the yellowing on its sides.

Blackwell walked up to the stairs, and climbed it without trouble despite his age – he wasquite athletic in his youth – and on top of it awaited Katherine and Rose.

“Any news sir?” Katherine asked in her usual chirpy voice, her hands behind her back.“Appalling. . . appalling.” Blackwell replied, looking down and shaking his head in disap-

proval.“Really?”“Go inside.” Blackwell replied, “It’s cold and windy here.”“Start the engines!” Katherine shouted into the cockpit, and Blackwell walked inside the

personnel carrier, the flights of stairs retracting back into the ship when he stepped in.2The lights within his pristine personnel carrier lit up, radiating off Blackwell’s face an

orange hue. Katherine led him further into the ship, the retractable white roundtable poppingup as the three get closer to the dimple. Three chairs popped up as well, two on the right andone on the left; two for his Officers and one for Blackwell himself. He brushed away his dresscoat’s hanging fabric, which laid so elegantly on the back of his seat, and sat down.

27

“I have appalling news to make. . . ” Blackwell spoke, with his hands tied together on thetable, and a depressive tone quickly overwhelmed the room.

“We are at war, not with our nemesis, but with our own kin.”“What do you mean?” Rose asked, always perplexed by Blackwell’s metaphors.“Two of our own Republics has split from the Federation.”Both of his Officers frowned simultaneously. No one in the Federation will ever dare to

leave the government behind, not at this urgent time.“How about the Empire?” Katherine asked.“They signed another peace treaty, presumably when we are travelling to here.” Blackwell

replied condescendingly, looking at Katherine.“And now we must refer to them as the Soviet Republics and the Republic of South Os-

stellesia.” Blackwell continued. Those political terms meant nothing for his men, as they don’treally care about the million political apparatuses of government that was strewn across thegalaxy.

“So, we are now fighting rebels?” Rose asked.“Yes. . . Yes. . . ” Blackwell sighed at her remarks, staring into the distant, “I bloody knew

those rebels were up to no good.”“Lifting off.” The pilot spoke into the main personnel room, with all three passengers in-

side sat firmly on their seats, the personnel carrier lifts off, blasting away with the two hoverthrusters underneath the main engines – the thrusters were mainly used to lift off – and thetwo backside thrusters blew a gist of blue, and flew away from the marbled building.

3The personnel carrier left the clouds and propelled right up through the starry sky, and

entered low-earth orbit. The view of the Atlantic Ocean slowly left the clear windows on bothsides of the jet. Blackwell sat on the roundtable, whilst Katherine and Rose were not present;presumably having returned to their offices. Blackwell was staring at the blue marble orb, heremembered that he was born on the great capital of Terra; supported by his Durrellian fatherand human mother till the age of thirteen. He never returned to his original home, neverhaving the guts to do so. The Clipper flew further away.

“Sir!” The pilot walked out of the cockpit, holding a cup of emptied coffee.“What is it, young man?” Blackwell looked up for a split second, before returning to look

outside of the windows.“The Prime Minister will be addressing the Federal Parliament; do you want to see it before

leaving?”“Of course!” Blackwell replied, looking back up to the pilot, “Help me change the tele-

screen to the channel.”Blackwell pointed up to a black screen – the replacement of the television for the Feder-

ation, the telescreen – and the pilot waved across it. The camera on top detected his handmovements and turned the screen on. The screen was showing the crowded Federal Parlia-ment, with Members of Parliament piling in and sitting on their chairs.

—–

The Halls of the Federal Parliament was filled up with the various Members of Parliamentfrom each constituency, some travelling thousands of lightyears in order to go back to Terra.The Parliament was filled with an unusual atmosphere, as if something was wrong. No onereally said anything about it, but everyone knew that something was wrong. The Members saton their wooden chairs, which wrapped around the centre seats; reserved for the Chancellor,the Speaker, the Dean, and various Barristers. The Speaker, followed by the Dean and threeBarristers, walked in. They were all holding stacks of loose paper and yellow files, and sat

28

on their respective seats, the Speaker right on the top, the Dean on the bottom left, and theBarristers on the right; forming a pseudo-pyramid.

“All rise for the Chancellor!” Feidder, Speaker of the House, shouted with his prominentBritish accent.

The Members rose, and from the main entrance came in a man. His hair was whitening,and his wrinkles were deeper than ever. The Chancellor walked into the Halls and approachedhis seat right in the middle of the Dean and Barristers.

“Please be seated.” The Speaker ordered, the Chancellor sat first, followed by the otherMembers of Parliament.

“The Prime Minister of the Federation shall address the Parliament! May the Prime Min-ister rise!” The Speaker shouted, and a man sat right on the centre of the left pile of people –the reserved space for the Observationists Party – rose and walked up to the podium sat rightin front of him.

“To the Members of Parliament, to the Chancellor of the Federation, and to the numerousmembers of the public viewing this address live.” The Prime Minister, Paul Learnold, spokeinto the crowded Halls. The Members were all hunched together, for they knew what hashappened.

“The press, in recent days, has been on continuous stream of news and reports of twoautonomous Republics breaking away from the Federalised nation of our state. Such reportsare true, as the government has received news from bordering states of the two Republicsthat they have declared independence from the Federation and the Federal Constitution, andthat the Republics have given in autonomy and governance of the Federation in exchange fortheir own sovereignty. Such acts are intolerable and breaks the cohesion of the Federation inexchange for very little personal gain, bringing the confederation built upon liberty apart. Theindependence movement that has recently sparked up and has been crushed quickly by theCensor has proven to be powerful; justifying to our government that efforts have been seen asscarce, as such rebels has detached two Republics from the combined Federation. The Federalgovernment and I will not sit idle upon such actions and will in all of our power preparethe nation for war to reunify both of the Republics back into our Federation; with all meansnecessary imposed that can justify our ends. Such war may become costly or be prolonged;draining our resources and effectively transporting the nation into a war of attrition. Althoughthe government understands such risks, we will not stand idle without thought, and allowdivision to rupture through our country. An idle country facing division has always collapsedwithout strong administration. The government would not allow such things to occur. So thus,I and the government hope that all present will pass such act of war without resignation ordoubt, as only with powerful iron-willed governance and stride can the country be returnedto its originally state.”

“Thank you, Prime Minister, you may be seated.” The Speaker spoke, and the Prime Min-ister returned to his seat.

“Does the Opposition have any responses.” The Speaker said to the Opposition, and theLeader of the Opposition, Leon Raeder, rose from his seat.

“To the Honourable Chancellor, the Prime Minister, and the Federal government. My partybelieves that such usage of force and war is unnecessary, and that opposition to the govern-ment’s rule is sincere and thoughtful. The rebellion has raged from the beginning of the NewRepublic, and as such have actual reasons to oppose the government. The policies so harshlylashed upon the people of the country has without doubt angered many, although the majoritystill believes in reform; some still prefer the old rule, or even another political system.”

The Prime Minister, and many of the Members of Parliament of the Observationists shooktheir heads in disapproval, some crossing their arms whilst some frowning with anger.

29

“Such policies of war,” Leon continued, occasionally looking at a piece of paper with afew bullet points written and underline, “has no place within our country, and does not bringcohesion back together, instead bringing the nation apart and rousing more rebellions to occur.I believe serious reconsiderations is highly important for any acts of violence and war, and thatacting too quickly will result in many dead. With such reasoning, my party and I have fullconfidence in opposition of such bill so that the people’s interests can be protected.”

The old Briton walked back to his seat and sat down with his speech finished. Members ofthe Sorenalists party cheered for him, using the traditional ‘hear, hear.’ Cry from the BritishParliament of old Terra.

“Order! Order!” The Speaker shouted at the Sorenalists, quieting them down; he pointedback at the Prime Minister, “Prime Minister!”

The Prime Minister rose again, walking up to his podium. His blond hair laid on his headelegantly, waving about when he walked. He held a piece of paper, with a few replies strewnabout with pencil.

“To the Honourable Leader of the Opposition,” The Prime Minister started, referring to hisopponent with the Address of Honour commonly used in governmental documents, “Our gov-ernment in recent times has been met with high opposition, and with the newest Budget beingunratified, the country has been put into a political deadlock with the Honourable Oppositionnot caring about the people’s will!”

This response roused both sides, with the Observationists cheering and the Sorenalists boo-ing; sending the Hall into a screaming match. Insults and accusations ranged from “Traitors!”and “Treachery!” from the Observationists; and “Lies!” and “Falsehoods!” from the Sorenal-ists. The Halls was filled with screams of anger and frustrations, with nothing to stop thedisordered Members.

“Order! Order!” The Speaker shouted frantically, and some calmed down. Although ittook five more minutes to calm everyone, the Prime Minister can finally squeeze in his replyafter the screaming match calmed for a while.

“To the Honourable Friends that sits opposing me and my government,” The Prime Minis-ter continued, “their imbecilic actions that has been presented to the people live on television,and via their unwillingness to cooperate on voting for the budget, has been shown once againas entirely self-centred. How would the people think about a self-centred government!”

His response brought on more cheers from his party, the frontbenchers shouting compli-ments like “That’s what the people want!” and many more. The Prime Minister returned tohis wooden seat and sat comfortably in a wave of glorious shouting.

“Leader of the Opposition!” The Speaker ordered for a response, and the Leader walkedback up to his podium.

“To what the government is spouting about my party.” The Leader began, now having themomentous task of dealing with the chaos caused, “Our Members abstained on the budgetfor a few reasons. One of the main ones was that the budget did not grant more protection tolabour unions, or to the massive populace of workers in the Federation by stripping the budgetof much needed welfare policies and economic stimuli.”

“Furthermore,” The Leader continued, gesturing at the Prime Minister, “Massive amountof funds has been allocated to the armed forces and to the Censor, which is highly unnecessaryand unrequired as the current deficit has already been skyrocketing before your governmentwas installed. Tackling inflation, and not the high amount of unemployment, has not helpedthe nation, but brought more of the populace against your government!”

The Leader finished his response and walked back to his seat.

—–

30

“Turn it off.” Blackwell ordered, “I don’t want to hear lies whispered into my ears.”The pilot quickly turned off the television and walked back into the cockpit. The personnel

carrier rocked forward, the engines beginning to rumble again. Katherine and Rose were satnext to Blackwell fixated on the telescreen, and with the screen ordered to be turned off; silenceresuming in the room, Katherine and Rose both looked back at Blackwell.

“Aren’t they saying the truth?” Katherine asked, her gleaming eyes stared deeply intoBlackwell’s face.

“Far from the truth.” Blackwell replied sternly, “They’re cutting it.”“Of course, they’re cutting it.” Rose said, “They don’t like us, at all!”“No one likes us. We are the elite of the Federation, and they will all want us to tumble

down.

31