A Sol of Ends and Beginnings, Part 1
United Nations Mars Colonial Administration, on the other side - Sol 662, 2039, MTC 6:20
Morning in Beck on Sol 662, 2039 began like any other. Clara’s alarm stirred her out of her dreamless sleep. Her hand lazily slapped the clock to turn off the alarm. The time displayed was completely out of sync with the 24 hours and 39 minutes in a Martian day. It was one of the few possessions she had brought with her from Oslo, and she refused to let go of it or even synchronize it. Dorothy would say she was clinging to the past too much, even by their standards. Maybe she was.
Can’t a girl hope?
Clara went through her daily routine. Changing into her clothes, she went to her kitchen and made herself breakfast. It was the same as it had been every day since she disembarked from
Fraternity, a bowl of oatmeal. On Mars, they had few options for their food. They brought few livestock on
Fraternity with them, due to difficulties figuring out how to launch non-human animals into orbit without injuring or killing them, then keep them healthy for a monthslong journey in microgravity, then bring them down to the surface to live on a planet where the very soil was toxic. They ultimately did find a way, but most of the space on
Fraternity was dedicated for human passengers. Early meals consisted of vegetarian meals grown from the hydroponics farms, including oatmeal. Nowadays, lunches and dinners had begun taking on some semblance of meals like those at home, as livestock farms found their stride, but most people stuck to plant-based diets. Meat was still a luxury.
With breakfast done, she put her dishes and pots in the dishwasher and closed the door. A chime sounded, and the machine began cleaning. Dishwashers were mandatory in every residence due to being more efficient than hand washing. Water was strictly rationed. For the last twenty-one years, Beck’s water had been delivered from the poles via the polar facilities Aquilo and Notus. There used to be two other ones, Boreas and Auster, but those had been taken over by the Austrians and Indians, respectively, and closed to UNAP and Demofed use. As a result, Central Authority now explored other potential locations to draw water from. In the last few sols, it had approved a record number of mining permits for Saturn. Most of the UN civilian fleet was currently tasked with delivering ammonia-rich asteroids to break up in the atmosphere, but quite a few mining ships had already returned from Saturn, their cargo holds loaded with ice from that gas giant’s rings. All very dangerous jobs, as many asteroid and ice haulers had gone missing just in the last few dozen sols, but the ones that made it could possibly help increase the daily water quotas.
That done, Clara put on her shoes, picked up her bag with yesterday’s work, and stepped out. The place was akin to a large apartment building, much like those in Oslo before. In a way, it was, only they didn’t have to pay rent; the economy still ran on bartering, vouchers, and rations. Housing was guaranteed to all citizens under the United Nations Charter for Mars Colonization. It was hardest to meet the guarantee in older habitats like New Novgorod and Aesirlingby, which were built in and around landed ARC ships, but Beck was planned from the very beginning to be a planetary capital, with all of the institutions and infrastructure that came with it. Throughout the 2010s, Beck was constantly under construction as new neighborhoods were dug under the surface. After the death of Earth, construction efforts ramped up to accommodate the incoming refugees, like herself. Now Beck had the Martian equivalent of urban sprawl. The various neighborhoods and satellite districts spread out from underneath the original habitat dome like the roots of a great tree, each connected to the central administrative district by an intricate network of tunnels. Without cars, or even roadways for cars, public transportation became a vital necessity. Neighborhoods were designed so that each residence had a subway station within walking distance. Clara only needed five minutes to reach hers. She couldn’t help but smile as she passed under a sign reading “Nyby Station.” Many of Beck’s Swedes, Danes, Norwegians, and Saxons called Nyby home.
The intercom played a short but distinct jingle. “Now arriving: Nyby. Nyby. Please keep away from the doors.” A minute later, a light rumble reverberated through the station, and a cylindrical train rolled up to the platform. An airtight seal extended from its doors and connected with the ones on the platform, letting out a hiss as the pressures equalized. Then the doors slid open. “Please do not stop in the airlock.” Clara moved through the same routine as she did in Oslo, stepping aside so passengers inside could disembark, then boarding and getting a seat. “Doors closing, please stand clear.” With another jingle, the doors locked shut, and the airlock retracted. Clara felt a jolt as the train accelerated into the tunnel. The planners had designed the tunnel to be as straight as possible, with few turns or changes in elevation, so once they reached cruising speed it felt like they were barely moving at all. If there were windows, she would have seen nothing but darkness. But windows were a liability, and they would have been unnecessary for the train’s original function as a tunnel drill.
Over the next few minutes, the train stopped at various stations along the way. “Now arriving: Saxonia. Saxonia.” “Now arriving: Pendragon. Pendragon.” “Now arriving: Heimdall. Heimdall.” “Now arriving: Little Russia. Little Russia.” Clara occupied herself by watching the headlines scrolling across the wall screens.
“Holy Roman Empire vents atmosphere of rebellious Ramanujan Station”
“Central Authority confirms loss of three mining vessels after 20 sols of no contact”
“Water quotas in Roosevelt, Neuve-Wallonie, Nyby, and Alhambra to be maintained at current levels”
“Democratic Federation President Ochimeca walks out of UN reaccession talks”
“Dust storm warnings issued for Zhukov, Aesirlingby, and Khrushchev”
Several minutes later, the train decelerated and came to a gentle stop. The airlock connected to the station doors and established equilibrium. “Now arriving: Central. Central.” The doors slid open, and Clara walked out.
Nyby Station’s small entrance and small size overall made it feel like a club in one of the back alleys of Oslo she used to go to with…her. But Central Station was massive, with hundreds of people constantly milling around. It reminded her of the central station in downtown Oslo. It could even have passed for it, if only it had windows and Imperial Century-era architecture. But there was a certain elegance in what Central Station was. Columns were seamlessly carved out of the stone, rising out of the floor and merging into the ceiling without any additional material being added. A similar thing had been done with the benches, tables, and kiosks. The ceiling was carved with niches and hanging bits reminiscent of a cathedral ceiling, each protrusion and recess amplifying the ambient chatter below. Flags from all member states and allies of the United Nations, both surviving and fallen, hung from the walls. Clara recognized the Templar cross of the Transient Republic of Avalon; the double-headed eagle of the Russian Empire; the red star of the United Indian Commune; the Andalusian geometric motifs of the Republic of Mexico; the Walloon rooster and Flemish lion of the United Américain States; the green and yellow of the Republic of Brazil; and, finally, the leaf-covered cross of her home, the Scandinavian Confederation.
There were also ads playing on the wall screens here. Despite the lack of currency being used in Beck at the moment, companies still found a way to sell things.
“Join the UN Defense Force! Strike back against the feudal menace in Olympus!”
“Try authentic Visigothic cuisine at Garsiya’s Cafe! Made with real farm-grown meat!”
“Get your new MTC Standard clock at Central Authority today!”
“Enlist in the UN Mining Corps! Receive your own ship, training included!
“
Fraternity Research Division is accepting new applications!”
Clara ignored them as usual and continued down the hallway. Central Authority was designed with bureaucratic efficiency in mind. It was arranged as a cylinder, with the various departments, agencies, and other institutions spread around its circumference and across its floors. A large pillar of stone ran down its center. There was where the most important UN institutions were located: the General Assembly, the Security Council, the International Court of Justice, the Ministry of Defense, and where she worked, the Presidency. The General Assembly was still where delegates from every member state gathered to discuss policy, but with the Holy Roman Empire’s recent conquests many seats were left empty or irrelevant. The Security Council was in a similar situation.
Before the war, the eight seats of the Security Council had been filled by the Holy Roman Empire, Scandinavia, Russia, Great Scotland, India, Malaysia, Australia, and the Continental Union, whose seat was jointly held by Avalon, the UAS, Mexico, and Canada. The Holy Roman Empire had withdrawn from the UN and now waged war on it. India and the Continental Union could not agree with Beck over how much power was granted to the UN and how much was reserved for the nations. As a result, the Indian Commune Party and the Continental Congress voted to secede from direct United Nations administration, taking their settlements with them to form the Socialist Republic of Mangala and the Democratic Federation of Mars (“Demofed” for short). Meanwhile, Great Scotland, Malaysia, and Australia had long since stopped functioning as sovereign states and were absorbed into UNAP, Mangala, and Demofed. Other nations which had established colonies independent of UNAP, such as the People’s Republic of Mali, had been conquered by the Holy Roman Empire.
Clara walked through the doors and entered the Presidency, greeting the receptionist at the desk as she usually did. “Morning, Jane.”
“Morning, Clara. I see you’re here early today.”
“Yeah, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.” Clara rolled her eyes. “Got to report to Secgen.”
“You know he’s flexible, though. He won’t mind if you show up an hour later or so. Get some rest.”
“He won’t mind, but I’m sure the Austrians would.” Clara nudged her head at a nearby TV, which showed footage of destroyed Indian military vehicles and the cracked dome of Ramanujan Station.
They barely gave them time to say their goodbyes before destroying every single emergency airlock…
“It’s only one day, what could they possibly do?” Jane said.
“Don’t say that!” Clara hissed. “You know the worst’s going to happen if you say that.”
“Anyways, I’ll just wave you through.” Jane typed on her computer and unlocked a gate. “Good luck in there with Secgen.”
“Thanks, Jane.” Clara passed through the gate into the restricted area of the Presidency. Here, everything took on a different air. The lighting changed from an ambient red-orange to a sharper light blue. The red Martian stone of the walls gave way to steel and concrete. The people she walked past were all dressed sharply, many of them wearing military uniforms. There was no room for idle gossip in these halls. Everybody walked with purpose, wasting not a single step. Clara made her way into the deepest part of the complex, where two soldiers stood guard in front of a reinforced metal door.
“Identify yourself,” one of the soldiers said.
“Come on, Walt, you know who I am,” Clara said, “Can’t you cut me some slack?”
“I’m sorry, Clara, but protocol’s protocol,” Walt said.
“Who put you up to this? Jerry from Security? You know that guy’s a real control freak.”
“Look, I have to do this, okay?” Walt said. “This is the Secretary-General we’re talking about. You guys had this much security for the President of Scandinavia, didn’t you?”
“Alright, alright, fine.” Clara dug out her ID card. “Here. Stupid bureaucracy.”
Walt inspected the card and then nodded. He opened the door for her. “Yeah, agreed. In you go.”
“Thanks, Walt.” Clara stepped inside.
She set down her bag at her usual chair. She took out the files she had screened yesterday evening, making sure everything was ready for her report. Then she walked across the room. The morning briefing hadn’t begun yet, and everybody was waiting. Including the Secretary-General, who looked just as annoyed as she was that he had to wake up at this time. “Good morning, sir.”
The Secretary-General looked up. “Ah, Clara, good morning.”
“Good morning to you too, sir.”
“Clara, you can drop the formalities.” The older man smiled much like a grandfather would. “You’ve been part of my staff for years now, so I think you’ve earned the right to call me by my name.”
“Uh, of course, sir,” Clara said, “I mean, Mr. Mozaffar.”
“Please, Murad is fine,” Murad said, “Anyways, about yesterday’s discussion, I’ve made a decision.”
“You have?”
Murad nodded. “I have already submitted the request, but since you are her friend, I believed it would be appropriate to let you know too, instead of being surprised when she shows up.”
“We need her that badly?”
“We don’t have a choice,” Murad said.
UN ARC ship Fraternity
, in geosynchronous orbit over Beck
There was no sound in space. All Dorothy could hear were the vibrations of
Fraternity’s engines underneath her boots, translated into a gentle humming echoing up her bones, her breath in her helmet…and Dr. Papadopoulos’ nagging voice over the radio. “Are you there yet?”
“C’mon, Doc, have some patience!” Dorothy lurched forward again, using her boot’s magnetic lock to propel her into her next step. After years of practice, she could walk just as well on the hull of
Fraternity as she could on the surface. “I’m nearly there!”
“Your transponder says otherwise.”
“No, I can see it!” Dorothy pointed at a sensor array in the distance. “I know you can see it through my camera, too.”
“Just…hurry up. We’re on a tight schedule.”
“We’re
always on a tight schedule, Doc.”
Dorothy eventually reached the sensor array and planted both of her feet on the metal hull with a firm thud and a click as the magnetic locks engaged. One hand wrapped around a rail and braced herself while she used her other one to open a maintenance panel, revealing cables inside. It took her a few seconds to survey everything inside. Once that was done, Dorothy pulled herself off the hull, using her hands to climb up. She blinked as the harsh glare of the sun, unfiltered through an atmosphere, spilled over the edge of the array. Her visor quickly adjusted its shading and flashed a warning signal about solar radiation, which she dismissed with a swipe of a finger.
I’ve been going out into the open for years. I know how long I can safely stay out. Planting herself on top of the array, she began surveying the antennas and other sensors sticking out into the void.
“Okay, looks like micrometeorite damage, as usual,” she reported, “An antenna got knocked out of the proper alignment. A few cables and screws are loose. Frankly, it’s shoddy engineering from when this thing was built. These ships are supposed to take a hundred thousand people each on a decades-long voyage to distant worlds. So did those people not have any concept of quality control?”
“Can you fix it, Dorothy?” Papadopoulos said.
Dorothy grinned. She had already taken out a screwdriver and wrench from a toolbox on her belt. “Forgot who I am, Doc?”
She darted across the array, tools and fingers flying around her like the moons of Jupiter. Screws spun into place. Cables were reattached or replaced and soldered when needed. Welding using traditional tools was impossible in vacuum, but she didn’t need those tools. To cover holes created by micrometeorites, she plaed metal patches on top of them and let cold welding handle the rest. Two clean surfaces made of similar metal would fuse together in a vacuum if left in contact for too long. On Earth, there would be various greases, oxides, and other materials that formed a thin layer above each surface, allowing the atoms on each side to “know” which side they were on. But in a vacuum, if there was no such layer, the atoms wouldn’t “know” they had to be in two different sides. It was a double-edged sword. Dorothy could use it for repairs, but she also had to fully replace moving parts that had fused together with new ones she had coated with surface layers.
Reminds me a little of our own squabbles on the surface. She looked up at the dusty red of Mars, wrapped in a thin atmospheric haze. Up here, she could see dust storms swirling near the settlements of Khrushchev and New Novgorod. To the west, the Mariner Valley, that great scar across the middle of Mars, was split in half by the solar terminator, one half in daytime and the other in nighttime. She could see a few lights on the night side, where Plato Base would be.
It’s beautiful. We all came to Mars by ship, but I wonder if people were looking out the windows when we arrived. Even after twenty years, I still can’t see any sign of human habitation other than the lights. It all looks so small and insignificant. So…fragile. And yet I…
“Why, Doc?” she found herself saying.
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why do things have to be like this?” Dorothy said.
“I don’t get it,” Papadopoulos said.
“Up here, I can’t see any borders or countries.” Dorothy pointed at the Mariner Valley. “No armies rolling across the surface, like the news reports say. If it’s daytime, I can’t see the habitats either. I can’t see UNAP or Demofed or Mangala or the Holy Roman Empire. All I see up here is…Mars. And yet we act like we’re still separate. Like two sheets of copper atoms separated by a thin layer of grease and oxide, not realizing they’re both copper atoms. We’re all humans in the end. So why do we keep fighting, even after what we went through? Why do I…”
Don’t act like you’re above it, you know. But Dorothy put on a smile, shaking away that thought.
No. Remember, Dorothy. Keep moving forward. Never look back.
---
Papadopoulos, monitoring Dorothy’s progress from the safety of her lab, didn’t know how to respond. He ruffled his lab coat. “Look, you’re going to have to ask the Security Council, because that’s way above my paygrade. I’m just a doctor.”
“A doctor they made my ha—er, supervisor, despite having no engineering experience.” Though that was so long ago. He had almost forgotten those times. “Sometimes, I wonder why they kept you here.”
“Because you’re so gearheaded you forget basic health!” Whenever she was at work, she had the tendency to get so hyperfocused on her work that she…forgot things. It was a miracle her work on the surface went as well as it did.
“Okay,
dad!” Papadopoulos flinched. It was weird for a woman in her late thirties to say that, but Papadopoulos was still old enough to be her dad.
“How was your trip?”
She proudly held up a trophy. “First place!”
A headpat. “That’s my girl. I know what that deserves.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
He took out a plate of food. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
“Dad, you didn’t have to do this.”
“No, it deserves to be celebrated!” He took a bite. “Come on, let’s eat!”
Papadopoulos shook that fragmented and hazy memory out of his head. It was a lifetime ago. No, this was no time to reflect on a past that was long destroyed. “Why…I’ll have you know, I picked up a few things from my wife.”
“Your ex or your mistress?” It was the worst thing he had ever done in his life, though he had not thought of it that way until it was too late. He constantly regretted what he did. Because everyone he knew had…
“That’s not the point, and stop sidetracking me! Get back to work!”
“I’m done, though. Heading back now.”
“Hold on a minute, are you sure you’re done?!”
“Oh yeah, I am. New record, too! Clara’s not going to believe this.”
That gung-ho can-do attitude…she was like that, once.
---
Fraternity was officially a third generation
Nomad-class Astrocosmic Reusable Colonization Ship, or ARC ship for short—
Someone sure wanted the acronym to spell ARC, Dorothy thought—developed by the United Nations Aerospace Program, the joint space program of all of the old nations of Earth. In the exodus from Earth, it had carried approximately 110,000 survivors of the nuclear war, primarily from Scandinavia, Russia, and the Continental Union. After being processed through Phobos Base, most of these survivors disembarked to the surface, settling in Beck and other Scandinavian/Russian settlements in Arabia Terra, and the rest went down to the Avalonian/Américain settlements in Noachis Terra and around Hellas Planitia.
Fraternity was then converted into a space station in geosynchronous orbit above Beck. Those on the surface primarily knew
Fraternity for its labs, which continued UNAP’s tradition of astronomical research, but
Fraternity had a second and more practical purpose. Its long-range sensor arrays, in addition to watching for rogue asteroids, monitoring the quality of Earth’s irradiated atmosphere, and communicating with UNAP outposts on Venus and the Jovian moons, worked with the Concordia satellite network to provide an early warning system for the surface settlements against enemy attacks. At first, Dorothy had signed up for
Fraternity’s Research Division, but UNAP took up much of her time with other projects. She could do those no problem, and sometimes they did involve her other projets, but her hands were so annoying to clean afterwards.
A few minutes after finishing her repairs, the airlock finished cycling, and the inner doors opened with a hiss. As soon as Dorothy was clear, she popped off her helmet and took a deep breath of
Fraternity’s air. “Ah! That always hits the spot!” She quickly changed into her casual clothes, with a lab coat over them just to look cool. It couldn’t hurt to do a quick twirl around, letting the lab coat spin out like the dress of an Andalusian flamenco dancer.
“You done yet?” Papadopoulos grumbled.
Dorothy sighed. “How long have you been there?”
“I just got here.” The older doctor—who actually had a reason for wearing his lab coat—leaned against a doorway, arms crossed. “Any health issues to report?”
“For the last time, Doc, I’ve got nothing!” Dorothy said. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I would know if something’s wrong with my body.”
“Like you did when you nearly passed out doing Concordia maintenance on Sol 271?”
Dorothy walked past Papadopoulos with a dismissive wave. “T-That was different, you know that! In any case, I’m completely fine, so get off my case!”
Not my fault we literally just grabbed some Indian spy satellites from the last century out of Earth’s orbit and dropped them into Mars’. Those old clunkers keep breaking! Especially when…
Ignoring Papadopoulos’ frustrated sighing, she entered her lab and sat at her main desk, booting up her computer. No new emails from the surface. Not even from Clara. She should really take some time off for a trip down to Beck, see how things were going on the surface. Was that New Anglian restaurant in Pendragon still going? She hoped so.
Though I’m in the mood for Piddletown’s New Jerusalem-style crab pizza lately.
“How are things at the clinic, Doc?” Dorothy asked.
“A slow day,” Papadopoulos said, “Few people came up from the surface with symptoms of muscular atrophy and osteopenia.”
“You’d think after twenty years, they would’ve learned.”
“They learned as much about microgravity health as they did about avoiding nuclear apocalypse. Only thing I could do for them is recommend extra exercise and vitamin supplements.”
“I swear I made sure the gravity plating generated 1g.” Dorothy checked her computer. “Yeah, look right there. Approximately 0.991g. Not exactly micro. If only we could spare some gravity plates for Beck and the other habitats. Last time I came back up from the surface, my legs were wobbly for ten days.”
“You know that’s impractical,” Papadopoulos said, “We barely have enough to cover all of
Fraternity.”
“And you can thank my jury-rigged reactor for that!” Dorothy proudly beamed, putting her hands on her hips and sticking out her chest. “If only we had time, I could jury-rig another for Beck.”
“Think of that after we win the war.”
Dorothy typed a few lines of code onto the computer. “Speaking of the reactor…” Data scrolled across the screen at a pace only she could keep up with. “Ah, damnit. The simulations didn’t work.”
“Still trying to crack Hoffenberg’s Question?”
“Yeah. No luck there. But I feel like I’m on the verge of a breakthrough. There has to be something more to gravity manipulation. It’s no coincidence the Gabriel ship’s propulsion and artificial gravity come from the same mechanism.” Dorothy jotted down her findings. “Oh well, I’ll just write down my ideas and test them out later.”
A chime came from her computer, and a notification appeared. “You have 1 new message.”
“Huh, a new message?” Dorothy opened the email. “Wonder what it’s about—oh.”
Papadopoulos approached the desk and peered at the screen. “Another summons to the surface? What does the Security Council want with you this time?”
Dorothy sighed, her exuberance dissolving into a tired deadpan. “Secgen requested me again.”
“Are things really going so bad down there?”
Dorothy’s face hardened. “Apparently. Get the shuttle ready.”
“Dorothy,” Papadopoulos said, “Are you sure?”
“Look, I hate this kind of work as much as anybody else up here, but if I can save lives, then I’ll stomach my own feelings,” Dorothy said.
Who am I kidding? I’ve been doing that for 21 years. This is no different.
She ejected a flash drive from her computer, shoving it into her pocket. Then she tossed her notebook into her bag.
“Just be safe down there, won’t you?” Papadopoulos said. “With the state of things, you should really be careful.”
Dorothy shook away her thoughts and put on another smile. “Yeah, yeah, Doc, same as always.”
---
And now for something completely different, have a ten-part finale arc for the Annionaverse Mars saga, only this time I’ll cover the other side of the war. Think of this as a test run for the mini-arc format I want to use for one-offs that end at the next gameplay chapter—they won’t all be ten chapters, but however many I need to tell the story. These ten parts were supposed to be mixed in with the main Hohenzollernverse story happening at the same time, but I decided to put all of the Annionaverse chapters together because I want them to stand on their own, I still have writer’s block for the main story as of posting this, and I can’t figure out how to fully convert Earth UTC time to Mars time. I can convert the Earth day to Mars sol but not an exact time. Fun fact, there is such a thing as a
Julian date used for astronomical timekeeping.
Fraternity was initially named
Liberty, but then I realized a few days ago (relative to writing this note) that was already used in DEA for the ARC ship that ultimately founded Liberte.
The “Transient Republic of Avalon” combines both of its most common names used throughout Imperial Hearts. The USA is now the United Américain States, reflecting its Flemish, Wallonian, and Dutch influences as it was settled by a Dutch-speaking Flanders. There are also Dutch and French names among the neighborhoods of Beck. India is officially known as the United Indian Commune, so I’m keeping that in the official name.
Mali has a presence on Mars, but due to being crippled by the Lindi War and ostracized in the international community, it couldn’t send too many colonists. Their settlements were conquered by Julius very early on and as a result don’t appear on my maps.
I chose Great Scotland, Malaysia, and Australia as the three remaining great powers (assuming a Victoria 2-style system of 8 great powers) because Great Scotland had a prominent position in the UN space program with Lawrence Piddle; Malaysia because of its economic and commercial power; and Australia because it survived World War II unscathed. There also weren’t many other choices, because they were either HRE satellites, Indian satellites, insignificant like Mongolia and Haiti, or already listed as great powers (HRE, Scandinavia, Russia, India, and Avalon/UAS/Canada jointly holding one seat). I’m not surprised that a vast majority of countries in the postwar Annionaverse were HRE satellites, FSKs, dominions, California, or Occitania, but it sure made my job harder.
Malaysia’s in-game name has consistently been “Malayasia” across all three games it appears in, but I’m pretty sure that was a typo Dragoon, myself, and nobody else caught, since Dragoon only calls it “Malaysia” in text.
It was originally “Arc ship” in Imperial Hearts—and now that I think about it, “arc” was probably chosen because it sounds like “ark”—but I decided to make it an acronym. Yes, “astrocosmic” is an actual word. I didn’t know that until I was looking up words that started with astro-. The original ship class names were along the lines of “Nomad I” and “Nomad II” but I decided to go with “first generation Nomad-class” and so on.
On a similar note, I don’t remember fully canonizing “United Nations Aerospace Program” until now. I don’t know where UNAP came from. Dragoon initially named the “United Nations Space Agency” (UNSA) but quickly dropped that and started using UNAP without warning or explanation. Aerospace Program was always my headcanon, but it made less sense than Space Agency. Oh well.
New Jerusalem is the capital of Avalon. I had to dig very deeply to find that name, but it’s located somewhere on the Connecticut coast. Meanwhile, Piddletown is the capital of the Democratic Federation/Demofed, named after the Scottish astronaut Lawrence Piddle.
