Post by The Kortl Rheus on Feb 25, 2014 18:34:57 GMT
Lord Corris Brethik was not exactly fat. He was certainly large, at five feet and two inches tall. His bulk glimmered in the blue-on-blue-on-blue of ice and hydrogen and skin tone. Brethik stared blandly across the large blood-stained oak table, procured from a Hegemony merchant, at the other members of the council as they presented their various reports. Brethik stared at the grain of the wood, trying to imagine how it grew, how the seeds had been transported from world to world so that it then grew and was then cut and finally ended up here on Verdantis Prime. It was also strange how quickly Hegemonic culture had seeped in. Changes were coming, Brethik thought, some quick, others slow.
“…and it’s about time. We withdrew and reassigned a number of our agents to evaluate the internal strength of the Holy Mouth Men.” Din Naestra had taken some time to go through the details of the various propaganda releases and noted the few critical removals from citizen groups. It wasn’t unusual for her to take such actions in order to destabilize any of the larger citizen movements that might threaten to interfere with political and diplomatic measures, locally, or off world.
She continued. “As for propaganda efforts, the models show that reproduction will remain high while we export citizens to the various colony worlds, this is largely dependent upon the general good mood the citizens are in, which, given the most recent directives, may quickly change. For now, we’re still happy. I’m not convinced this will remain so if the spin isn’t handled right. This is too big for me, we’ll have to have total council intervention.”
This was something Brethik liked about Naestra, she was blunt about her own abilities. It gave her an edge, having pushed up through the grime of the underphid. An edge he feared, and the other sometimes ignored. It kept him on his fins.
Brethik nodded. “Excellent work Naestra, I’ll handle the public fallout when it becomes public news, keep your eyes on the omninets for the eventual leaks, try to channel the direction towards the previous instigations. Why make it up when they provided it for us.”
With the development of radio telecommunications, the Oligarchy had learned, some time ago, that their friendly neighbor had placed radio transmission claim beacons on their home system, and just about every system in the quadrant. It had taken some work, but they suppressed the information from the public and then put out their own beacons, contesting those claims. Not that any of this mattered. The public would be enraged, as some of the council were, when they had learned of the insult.
Naestra nodded and sat back down.
“Lew, you’ll have to take point with Hegemon, you’ve got the best relationship. We’re going to put off your requested reassignment for a little longer.” Brethik knew Lewiddyion was itching to return home after spending nearly a year in Hegemony space, returning only for short meetings with the council, like this one. Brethik was his friend, but he also knew that when Lewiddyion returned he’d likely regain the chair, and that was something that couldn’t be permitted just now.
The previous Oligarch stood, taking Naestra’s place. “Understood.” He paused and adjusted his glasses, another human technology. “All our models show a complete obliteration, although we’ve had some issues regarding logistics, but our recent retrofitting has solved the issue. It comes down to a fine line, balancing the outputs in those smaller corvette chassis but we’re just on the right side of it now. I’m still not convinced, though, that this is the right course of action. What if they agree to prematurely surrender?”
Brethik adjusted himself in the large throne-like chair. He looked over to Petkullik, but still spoke to the council. “Communications blackout. Can’t stop an invasion when the fleet is silent for security reasons.
“Listen, I know we’re on unsteady ground with this choice and I only have your support tentatively. I’ll restate the previous conclusion we came to. We cannot coexist with their level of power at such a short distance. A fight is inevitable and our history has shown that aggressors take the fishcake, as the human expression goes.
“The Hierarchy has proven their intellectual inferiority and production superiority. They may have made overtures of friendship, but we have several corroborated accounts that verify their duplicity. Overtures of friendship only arrived after they observed our own production capabilities and military might. Their claim on this very planet only relented after we were forced to show some strength.” He slammed his third foot on the floor, the middle one that was generally only used for sudden leaps or gestures of anger – a leftover of genetic detritus.
“The terms of their agreement seemed to honestly indicate a desire for a real relationship in the region, I still move against this action and I know Din Naestra is with me on this,” said Prince Caelor Deslin.
Deslin’s position on the council was mostly honorary, but his word still held weight with the underphid. Brethik knew the prince didn’t like him much. He’d have to get Lewiddyion to work on him some more, but keeping Lewiddyion busy required loosing Deslin to his own devices. It was a tricky balance.
“Prince Deslin, I respect your judgment, but trust me when I tell you, that if we don’t strike now, we may never get another opportunity. They are distracted with the Aalien and their colonial efforts and have foolishly informed us of their crash-method productions. Our own shipyards don’t need to resort to such extreme measures, and it puts them in a vulnerable spot for the next year. We act now, or never. Even if we lose our first two fleets we’ll be able to posture for complete control of Isolde before they have time to react,” Brethik said.
Prince Deslin frowned, annoyed. Isolde was a sticking point with most of the council. They had deadlocked on the vote over how to handle the treaty negotiations for over a month last year. The Hierarchy had leveraged their might, moving a dozen ships through Verdantis, in order to push for shared rights on the Isolde system. Not having pushed their own yards with volatile production methods, the Schism military had developed slower. They’d been forced to agree to a very unfavorable border arrangement which left them stuffed between the Hegemony and the Hierarchy, the fish between two rocks. Eventually Deslin, convinced by the claiming insult, had come around and cast his fifth vote, usually not needed, in favour of accepting their arrogant offer lest they offend their bullying neighbor.
“I know, we’re angry about Isolde. By any reasonable policy Maxis or Vesta should be ours as well, but not like this. It will destabilize our relations with the Aalien and the Hegemony. What example can this set for our future allies?”
“Actually, that’s not strictly true,” said Lewiddyion. “We've just recently hammered out a fairly firm pact with the Aalien in exchange for support. They won’t quickly forget our aid and plan to offer some valuable technologies in exchange for any distractions we might provide.
“The Hegemony and other empires present no threat to us at this time and is proving to be a very useful, reliable and valuable trade and research partner. Both of those nations would require large supply fleets, which have yet to be produced, in order to even reach our space. I feel both of these peoples are much more stable for long term development than the Hierarchy, they won’t attack us in retribution.”
Brethik stepped in. “Even if they did, we’d see that coming. When this Alltier comes for us, we won’t.”
“But, that’s exactly what we’re doing to them, right now,” said Prince Deslin.
The council was silent, Lewiddyion flipped through his folders and again adjusted his glasses. Brethik simply shrugged.
Deslin shook his head and sighed. “Fine. I’ll be going with the second fleet though. We all know the risks involved, and there is no denying the opportunity is rare, but if we want to keep popular support in the event that we don’t have a complete victory, we’ll need to show that we made some personal risk.” Brethik knew Deslin was no martyr, but it wasn’t encouraging. Deslin was still useful.
But, there were a lot of things they couldn’t allow to continue. They couldn't remain wedged into this region of space, they couldn't let the repeated insults remain unanswered.
Lord Brethik saw a screen of the gathered ships, the first real Armada, and paused. His bulky frame sagged slightly, feeling the weight and cost of his actions - and real doubt. It lasted only a moment as even as he watched the fleets pushed their now ancient drives towards the Hierarchy homeworld and death.
“…and it’s about time. We withdrew and reassigned a number of our agents to evaluate the internal strength of the Holy Mouth Men.” Din Naestra had taken some time to go through the details of the various propaganda releases and noted the few critical removals from citizen groups. It wasn’t unusual for her to take such actions in order to destabilize any of the larger citizen movements that might threaten to interfere with political and diplomatic measures, locally, or off world.
She continued. “As for propaganda efforts, the models show that reproduction will remain high while we export citizens to the various colony worlds, this is largely dependent upon the general good mood the citizens are in, which, given the most recent directives, may quickly change. For now, we’re still happy. I’m not convinced this will remain so if the spin isn’t handled right. This is too big for me, we’ll have to have total council intervention.”
This was something Brethik liked about Naestra, she was blunt about her own abilities. It gave her an edge, having pushed up through the grime of the underphid. An edge he feared, and the other sometimes ignored. It kept him on his fins.
Brethik nodded. “Excellent work Naestra, I’ll handle the public fallout when it becomes public news, keep your eyes on the omninets for the eventual leaks, try to channel the direction towards the previous instigations. Why make it up when they provided it for us.”
With the development of radio telecommunications, the Oligarchy had learned, some time ago, that their friendly neighbor had placed radio transmission claim beacons on their home system, and just about every system in the quadrant. It had taken some work, but they suppressed the information from the public and then put out their own beacons, contesting those claims. Not that any of this mattered. The public would be enraged, as some of the council were, when they had learned of the insult.
Naestra nodded and sat back down.
“Lew, you’ll have to take point with Hegemon, you’ve got the best relationship. We’re going to put off your requested reassignment for a little longer.” Brethik knew Lewiddyion was itching to return home after spending nearly a year in Hegemony space, returning only for short meetings with the council, like this one. Brethik was his friend, but he also knew that when Lewiddyion returned he’d likely regain the chair, and that was something that couldn’t be permitted just now.
The previous Oligarch stood, taking Naestra’s place. “Understood.” He paused and adjusted his glasses, another human technology. “All our models show a complete obliteration, although we’ve had some issues regarding logistics, but our recent retrofitting has solved the issue. It comes down to a fine line, balancing the outputs in those smaller corvette chassis but we’re just on the right side of it now. I’m still not convinced, though, that this is the right course of action. What if they agree to prematurely surrender?”
Brethik adjusted himself in the large throne-like chair. He looked over to Petkullik, but still spoke to the council. “Communications blackout. Can’t stop an invasion when the fleet is silent for security reasons.
“Listen, I know we’re on unsteady ground with this choice and I only have your support tentatively. I’ll restate the previous conclusion we came to. We cannot coexist with their level of power at such a short distance. A fight is inevitable and our history has shown that aggressors take the fishcake, as the human expression goes.
“The Hierarchy has proven their intellectual inferiority and production superiority. They may have made overtures of friendship, but we have several corroborated accounts that verify their duplicity. Overtures of friendship only arrived after they observed our own production capabilities and military might. Their claim on this very planet only relented after we were forced to show some strength.” He slammed his third foot on the floor, the middle one that was generally only used for sudden leaps or gestures of anger – a leftover of genetic detritus.
“The terms of their agreement seemed to honestly indicate a desire for a real relationship in the region, I still move against this action and I know Din Naestra is with me on this,” said Prince Caelor Deslin.
Deslin’s position on the council was mostly honorary, but his word still held weight with the underphid. Brethik knew the prince didn’t like him much. He’d have to get Lewiddyion to work on him some more, but keeping Lewiddyion busy required loosing Deslin to his own devices. It was a tricky balance.
“Prince Deslin, I respect your judgment, but trust me when I tell you, that if we don’t strike now, we may never get another opportunity. They are distracted with the Aalien and their colonial efforts and have foolishly informed us of their crash-method productions. Our own shipyards don’t need to resort to such extreme measures, and it puts them in a vulnerable spot for the next year. We act now, or never. Even if we lose our first two fleets we’ll be able to posture for complete control of Isolde before they have time to react,” Brethik said.
Prince Deslin frowned, annoyed. Isolde was a sticking point with most of the council. They had deadlocked on the vote over how to handle the treaty negotiations for over a month last year. The Hierarchy had leveraged their might, moving a dozen ships through Verdantis, in order to push for shared rights on the Isolde system. Not having pushed their own yards with volatile production methods, the Schism military had developed slower. They’d been forced to agree to a very unfavorable border arrangement which left them stuffed between the Hegemony and the Hierarchy, the fish between two rocks. Eventually Deslin, convinced by the claiming insult, had come around and cast his fifth vote, usually not needed, in favour of accepting their arrogant offer lest they offend their bullying neighbor.
“I know, we’re angry about Isolde. By any reasonable policy Maxis or Vesta should be ours as well, but not like this. It will destabilize our relations with the Aalien and the Hegemony. What example can this set for our future allies?”
“Actually, that’s not strictly true,” said Lewiddyion. “We've just recently hammered out a fairly firm pact with the Aalien in exchange for support. They won’t quickly forget our aid and plan to offer some valuable technologies in exchange for any distractions we might provide.
“The Hegemony and other empires present no threat to us at this time and is proving to be a very useful, reliable and valuable trade and research partner. Both of those nations would require large supply fleets, which have yet to be produced, in order to even reach our space. I feel both of these peoples are much more stable for long term development than the Hierarchy, they won’t attack us in retribution.”
Brethik stepped in. “Even if they did, we’d see that coming. When this Alltier comes for us, we won’t.”
“But, that’s exactly what we’re doing to them, right now,” said Prince Deslin.
The council was silent, Lewiddyion flipped through his folders and again adjusted his glasses. Brethik simply shrugged.
Deslin shook his head and sighed. “Fine. I’ll be going with the second fleet though. We all know the risks involved, and there is no denying the opportunity is rare, but if we want to keep popular support in the event that we don’t have a complete victory, we’ll need to show that we made some personal risk.” Brethik knew Deslin was no martyr, but it wasn’t encouraging. Deslin was still useful.
But, there were a lot of things they couldn’t allow to continue. They couldn't remain wedged into this region of space, they couldn't let the repeated insults remain unanswered.
Lord Brethik saw a screen of the gathered ships, the first real Armada, and paused. His bulky frame sagged slightly, feeling the weight and cost of his actions - and real doubt. It lasted only a moment as even as he watched the fleets pushed their now ancient drives towards the Hierarchy homeworld and death.