2242.11.09 – President’s Office, Earth
President Ersh na-Filvan of the Republic of Sol sighed.
“Being the leader of a nascent galactic power is exhausting.” he muttered to himself. In front of him was a map of the galaxy. The Milkyway. A galaxy that, while still largely unexplored, had turned out to be full of surprises.
Space whales. Living space crystals. Aliens.
But most surprising? Romans. As in, human, yet alien, Romans of the Roman Empire. On a planet called Rome. In a system called Roma. Only eight jumps from Sol. And the Romans hated human guts. With a vengeance. Why, Ersh did not know. Earth had tried their best to be friendly. Rome had rebuffed every effort.
Now there was a cold war, the Roman Empire and the Republic of Sol rivals, and Sol secretly supporting the Sathorian uprising while waiting for an army of space marines to be ready.
The borders were secured. “South” of the republic a federation had formed between the decidedly human, yet – again – alien, Quenti Empire and the decidedly alien Desstican High Kingdom and Sovereign Otherian Domains. The federation had agreed to let Sol enter into a associate membership, and Ersh hoped to enter fully in due time.
“West” of this federation, in largely unexplored space, Janislaw Productions Limited – a human, yet alien civilization ruled by a company of all things, and the Freedweller Confederation, a human yet alien civilization living entirely in huge space stations that made his head swim merely thinking about their scale, resided.
How humanity had emerged all over the galaxy – or rather all over the part of the galaxy known so far, but who knew what lied out there? It was a question that had immersed Earth and her colonies for almost four decades now, all the while since the Roman Empire – he still thought that notion was weird, seeing how his great grandfather came from Sicily, Earth – had been discovered and had obliterated the poor exploration team entering their home turf.
Rome. He sighed again. And pressed the intercom button.
“Raol, could you please send in two painkillers and a glass of water. I’m beginning to get a headache.”
“At once, sir!”
That boy, what an eager and kindhearted aide. Ersh chuckled. That “boy” was almost 40 years old. But Ersh was 76 years old by now, he still remembered a time when Earth was the only home of humankind. Raol was born two years after humanity first left Sol.
Or, first time? Rome, Janislaw – a decidedly Polish name, but how could a Polish civilization be born on a faraway star? Poland, Earth was not 4000 years old and the Janislaw ambassador had claimed their first written records dated back at least that far. It was, for sure, a mystery. One that had rocked not only science and society, but religion also.
And the Quenti. What kind of language did it come from? Mesoamerican? He was not sure. They, too, claimed a long heritage. 6000 years, was it? As for Rome, no one knew. But the Rome of Earth rose, what, 3000 years ago? His head spun even more. He sure needed those painkillers.
And his cabinet wanted answers. Rome was weak now. Pathetic weak, according to the reports. Now was the time to strike, they said. But then again, Sol did not have a space marine army. Not yet. The navy was big, sure. 10 destroyers, 6 frigates, 20 corvettes. At the moment being upgraded to the newest technology Earth knew.
Rome was the time, but Earth was not ready. Not quite yet. And besides, their spies had begun to disappear. Intel were in some areas getting worryingly stale. And there was the matter of that army. He had the papers in front of himself. 12 contingents on Earth. 9 on Nathka.
And three on Unnabin Prime. One Desstican and two Othari. The migration treaties had meant that Sol could begin colonizing planets not suitable for human occupation. Sol had twelve planets under her control, more on the way. Several being colonized by aliens. It sure had happened fast. At this moment seven planets were dominated by alien species. He wondered how the population would look in a decade. A century. A millennium, granted nothing really bad happened. Now, in 2242, humans was in majority by far. He hoped Sol would prosper for millennia. He hoped it would prosper as a xenophile society. But, knowing his species…
“Well, hope is all we have in a galaxy like this.” he muttered to himself.
But, yes. He would order those contingents to be raised. He would also sign an executive order to move Earth Fleet to Yanduz Station as soon as it was fully upgraded. Sol could not risk Rome to rise again. Not under his watch. He was considering subjugating them as a vassal. Vassal. What an arcane word. He shuddered. But it fit best what he planned. Humanity needed the Roman beast to be tamed.
He pressed the intercom button again.
“Raol, please send for the cabinet. Tell them to convene in the situation room in two…no, let’s say three hours. It’s early still. And, I need those painkillers now, please.”
He leaned back. Yes, in a few months. A year or two, at most, there would have to be war. He did not like it, sending young, innocent men into battle. But he was a leader. Leaders had to make tough decisions. He had chosen this office.
He smiled melancholically. If only Eira had seen him now, in the president’s chair. They had worked for it together, to change Sol to something more, something better. He wondered if Heaven did exist. If it did, surely it was not out there. Or was it?
He closed his eyes. He could still see her face, faintly.
Whispering, he said:
“I will make you proud Eira. Your dream became mine that day we pledged ourselves to each other. I will make Sol a safe haven for all species, humans and aliens alike. But I fear it means I must wage war first.”
President Ersh na-Filvan of the Republic of Sol sighed.
“Being the leader of a nascent galactic power is exhausting.” he muttered to himself. In front of him was a map of the galaxy. The Milkyway. A galaxy that, while still largely unexplored, had turned out to be full of surprises.
Space whales. Living space crystals. Aliens.
But most surprising? Romans. As in, human, yet alien, Romans of the Roman Empire. On a planet called Rome. In a system called Roma. Only eight jumps from Sol. And the Romans hated human guts. With a vengeance. Why, Ersh did not know. Earth had tried their best to be friendly. Rome had rebuffed every effort.
Now there was a cold war, the Roman Empire and the Republic of Sol rivals, and Sol secretly supporting the Sathorian uprising while waiting for an army of space marines to be ready.
The borders were secured. “South” of the republic a federation had formed between the decidedly human, yet – again – alien, Quenti Empire and the decidedly alien Desstican High Kingdom and Sovereign Otherian Domains. The federation had agreed to let Sol enter into a associate membership, and Ersh hoped to enter fully in due time.
“West” of this federation, in largely unexplored space, Janislaw Productions Limited – a human, yet alien civilization ruled by a company of all things, and the Freedweller Confederation, a human yet alien civilization living entirely in huge space stations that made his head swim merely thinking about their scale, resided.
How humanity had emerged all over the galaxy – or rather all over the part of the galaxy known so far, but who knew what lied out there? It was a question that had immersed Earth and her colonies for almost four decades now, all the while since the Roman Empire – he still thought that notion was weird, seeing how his great grandfather came from Sicily, Earth – had been discovered and had obliterated the poor exploration team entering their home turf.
Rome. He sighed again. And pressed the intercom button.
“Raol, could you please send in two painkillers and a glass of water. I’m beginning to get a headache.”
“At once, sir!”
That boy, what an eager and kindhearted aide. Ersh chuckled. That “boy” was almost 40 years old. But Ersh was 76 years old by now, he still remembered a time when Earth was the only home of humankind. Raol was born two years after humanity first left Sol.
Or, first time? Rome, Janislaw – a decidedly Polish name, but how could a Polish civilization be born on a faraway star? Poland, Earth was not 4000 years old and the Janislaw ambassador had claimed their first written records dated back at least that far. It was, for sure, a mystery. One that had rocked not only science and society, but religion also.
And the Quenti. What kind of language did it come from? Mesoamerican? He was not sure. They, too, claimed a long heritage. 6000 years, was it? As for Rome, no one knew. But the Rome of Earth rose, what, 3000 years ago? His head spun even more. He sure needed those painkillers.
And his cabinet wanted answers. Rome was weak now. Pathetic weak, according to the reports. Now was the time to strike, they said. But then again, Sol did not have a space marine army. Not yet. The navy was big, sure. 10 destroyers, 6 frigates, 20 corvettes. At the moment being upgraded to the newest technology Earth knew.
Rome was the time, but Earth was not ready. Not quite yet. And besides, their spies had begun to disappear. Intel were in some areas getting worryingly stale. And there was the matter of that army. He had the papers in front of himself. 12 contingents on Earth. 9 on Nathka.
And three on Unnabin Prime. One Desstican and two Othari. The migration treaties had meant that Sol could begin colonizing planets not suitable for human occupation. Sol had twelve planets under her control, more on the way. Several being colonized by aliens. It sure had happened fast. At this moment seven planets were dominated by alien species. He wondered how the population would look in a decade. A century. A millennium, granted nothing really bad happened. Now, in 2242, humans was in majority by far. He hoped Sol would prosper for millennia. He hoped it would prosper as a xenophile society. But, knowing his species…
“Well, hope is all we have in a galaxy like this.” he muttered to himself.
But, yes. He would order those contingents to be raised. He would also sign an executive order to move Earth Fleet to Yanduz Station as soon as it was fully upgraded. Sol could not risk Rome to rise again. Not under his watch. He was considering subjugating them as a vassal. Vassal. What an arcane word. He shuddered. But it fit best what he planned. Humanity needed the Roman beast to be tamed.
He pressed the intercom button again.
“Raol, please send for the cabinet. Tell them to convene in the situation room in two…no, let’s say three hours. It’s early still. And, I need those painkillers now, please.”
He leaned back. Yes, in a few months. A year or two, at most, there would have to be war. He did not like it, sending young, innocent men into battle. But he was a leader. Leaders had to make tough decisions. He had chosen this office.
He smiled melancholically. If only Eira had seen him now, in the president’s chair. They had worked for it together, to change Sol to something more, something better. He wondered if Heaven did exist. If it did, surely it was not out there. Or was it?
He closed his eyes. He could still see her face, faintly.
Whispering, he said:
“I will make you proud Eira. Your dream became mine that day we pledged ourselves to each other. I will make Sol a safe haven for all species, humans and aliens alike. But I fear it means I must wage war first.”
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