The Origin of Sin (Closed)

[Cinya]

The Origin of Sin

The Imperial Dominion of Cinya

Imperial Senate
February 18th, 1970
The Imperial Dominion

“Fellow Senators, it was kind of you to meet with me on such short notice.” The emergency of meeting of the Senate Commissionaires had certainly been called on short notice, less than an hour ago the Chairmen of their respective Commissions had received a call asking them to assemble in the Executive Conference Room of the Imperial Dominion Senate Head Quarters, the government building from which all major decisions and policies guiding the nation’s actions in every aspect of being were made. Standing at the edge of a large table, wearing a very fine suit, was the First Consul, the man who had summoned the Chairmen of the Commissions.

The First Consul was an old man, who had been elected at the age of fifty-two in the 1934 elections and had managed to maintain power since, a truly remarkable fact which contributed to his legend throughout the Imperial Dominion as he proceeded over countless, almost bloodless, annexations and conquest, just as any proper Cinyan leader would. Still, his age was beginning to affect him- but he had to dispel any signs of weakness, would be letting younger Senators smell blood in the water, and so the First Consul did not sit in the fine chair that had been made for him, but he decided instead to stand sipping at his tea as he leafed through a few papers on the desk.

“First Consul,” the Chairman of the Senate’s Military Commission, Quintillus Apollinaris, said in his deep, gruff voice. Senator Apollinaris was a respected figure throughout the Imperial Dominion, he’s plump figure and deep set eyes which appeared to be too large for his nose did not make for an attractive man, but he had worked with the First Consul over a number of military campaigns and was respected for it. With the success of the past seventy years, a man did not need to be attractive to reap the benefits of success and certainly there were plenty to be gathered. The Senator had a wife and children who lived comfortably and several girlfriends who lived, perhaps, more comfortably, he had the finest wines that Cinya grew and the finest textiles the nation imported, as well as very fine cigars, one of which he inhaled deeply from before continuing. “I get the idea that we’ve been summoned to prepare yet another expansion, correct?” The Senator’s question was truly rhetorical, it was very obvious that the First Consul lusted for war and soil, especially to Apollinaris who had sat through more than one of these meetings during his locked career, locked being a Cinyan tern to describe a Senator or other elected official who did not need to worry about reelection due to success, popularity, or wealth.

“Keenly observant as always Senator,” the Consul replied coolly, “obviously, my associates, we do not alone hold the power to raise an army or to declare war, but we’ve been stagnant for too long and the time has once again come to expand.” The Consul opened a black briefcase he used to transport his papers and documents and pulled out a thick, several hundred page stack held together by a paperclip and three industrial staples. “I trust you know what this is?” He asked them, holding it up to display the title which read An Act of Senate On Securing Democracy Abroad. The Act had been adopted at the start of the First Consul’s campaigns of expansion and militarism, known widely as the Anacletus Crusades, after the First Consul Severinus Anacletus. Essentially, the Act had called for the ability to deploy a limited number of military personal, less than thirty thousand, to a foreign country without the express permission of the Senate. The force was not to be used to attack the nation, but rather to learn of their cultural and social norms and then to determine if such a place was capable of being absorbed diplomatically into the Dominion- historically, however, if the force was fired upon it would certainly justify an immediate declaration of war and annexation from the Senate and this is how the First Consul intended to use them.

“Should I order forces to our border with Ungghindi?” Asked Senator Apollinaris, Ungghindi was the nation to the immediate east of the Imperial Dominion, a small nation comparatively which was even richer in natural gas and a few other resources than the nations already annexed and renamed by the Imperial Dominion. In a large sense, Ungghindi could be a final campaign for Cinya, the people had called for expansion, the people had elected First Consul Anacletus a member of the Radicle Right of the Imperial Party which would shortly splinter into the National Party, and the government under the leadership of the First Consul had responded- delivering blow after blow to both their former neighbors and the international community. Much of the world seemed stagnant this century, but Cinya was considered by many (accurately so) to be the most aggressive nation currently on the planet, and did have a larger list of human rights violations than any other governmental body. “Their military is subpar, and outdated- though we should assume that the Wolves are fueling them and funneling additional modern weaponry to them.” The Senator said with disgust, not directly at Wolfmanne but rather at foreign nations in general.

“Actually, I was thinking we could invade Wolfmanne itself.” Anacletus said thoughtfully, and upon seeing the confused look from the Chairman of the Military decided to elaborate. “Certainly, Ungghindi would be a simple target and an easy task, but every day we must combat the actions of more powerful foreigners- this is an opportunity to destroy one such opponent and I believe it is an opportunity that should be taken. Still, I am as always opened to hearing your thoughts.”

“I understand that our last military analysis of Wolfmanne suggested we were capable of defeating them in a brief war that they were not expecting, but we should consider that with their allies in Parhe, we may not be facing a brief war. They are not a fledgling nation still trying to find rock since the Collapse.” This was the obese Senator’s attempt at negotiation, but the fire in the First Consul’s eyes indicated his argument did little to persuade him, which meant a different perspective was needed. “Very well Consul, if it is your desire that we attack the dogs I will comply, but may I ask that we first take Ungghindi. Doing so will give us military positions along their border as well as along their waters, I have confidence that with Ungghindi beneath our sway we can launch a major, rapid offense into the unsuspecting dogs, eliminating them before they have the chance to organize a response. However, this does demand the possession of Ungghindi, after which we will put those dogs down.” The chairman shifted uncomfortably in his seat, he did not want a war with Wolfmanne, not right now anyways, and that is exactly what the First Consul was pushing for- he hoped this temporary solution would allow him the leeway he needed, and that it could be substituted later for a more lasting solution, at their rate of military development he would be eager for war in a decade perhaps, but for now he wanted to focus on Ungghindi.

“So be it,” the First Consul sighed taking a seat and lighting a pipe. “How long would it take to organize an offensive against Ungghindi,” the Consul asked inhaling deeply the tobacco from glossed wood the pipe. “Would it be possible to take the nation with the limited number we have rather than a full deployment?”

“There is no way we could be defeated by nigrums. I’m confident that if we deployed the full force allotted to us, we could launch a quick strike against the capitol, taking it in a matter of hours. After we take the capitol the rest of the nation will crumble beneath us, the war will be done in a month, clean up and purification will take eight months to a year. Then we annex the place, rename it, and we’ll have a profitable state within two, three years at worst.” Would you like me to order their deployment?” The large man asked, finishing his cigar and downing a glass of whisky to keep him alert.

“Ensure you handle the natives, I don’t want to have a lot of nigrums running around the nation- it’ll raise crime rates.” The First Consul ordered reaching for a glass of whisky as Senator Apollinaris noted that 85% of the native population would need to be terminated rather than the standard 70%. “To the glory of Cinya,” the two men toasted and with a click of glass, a genocide begun.

Jos Port,
March 1st, 1970
The Republic of Ungghindi

The IDS Mercy was a mighty craft, sailing at full speed towards the Port of Jos, Jos being the capital city of the Republic of Ungghindi. The sun was hot in this area, and unrelenting rays of sunlight assaulted the metal hull of the IDS Mercy as the ship sailed quickly towards their destination. The Mercy was a massive medical ship, the largest medical ship in the Cinyan fleet save for the IDS Harbinger. The massive vessel was capable of transporting 5,000 wounded from the battlefield and was typically armed only with the medical necessities needed for such a large population of wounded or ill. The Mercy also featured a large helicopter pad with room enough for three birds, five if everything war parked appropriately, and on either side of the vessel were massive doors that acted as huge ramps to assist in the rushed evacuation of wounded. However, today it was not the Mercy that would be assisting the injured, but rather it appeared the Mercy was itself harmed. A large plume of smoke could be seen rising from the back, and though the shining white ship seemed to be intact, obviously the smoke was an ominous sign.

Ungghindi was a politically and militarily weak nation nestled between two more powerful nations of Cinya and Wolfmanne. Both Wolfmanne and Cinya were, technically, capable of taking the small nation by force but so far neither side had made an effort. This splendid neglect worked very well for the people of Ungghindi who, despite massive poverty rates, little electricity and clean water, and the constant, looming threat of civil war, preferred their current state over being the battlefield of two superior powers. It was rumored that the Republic of Ungghindi and the Commonwealth of Wolfmanne had exchanged delegates and that the Commonwealth was even sending aid to the dark-skinned nation, while it was widely known that the Imperial Dominion shared not even the simplest diplomatic niceties with the nation they considered to be completely their inferior; socially, politically, militarily, culturally, technologically, genetically- in every aspect of life it seemed Cinya was light-years ahead of their ignorant neighbors, and Cinyans hated the Ungghindi for it.

From the command tower and lighthouse located on a small island in the rough center of the Port of Jos, men were running in and out of the command room. This was a disaster, the IDS Mercy was a ship of the Imperial Dominion Fleet, it was a Cinyan ship- and worst yet it was a hospital ship that appeared to be damaged in Ungghindi waters. The Ungghindi had not fired at the ship, they would never be so brazen, and even pirates would not robe a vessel which bore the Red Cross, though it was possible they would do so for the medicine which could make a massive amount of money on the black market. Either way, the Ungghindi knew that the Cinyans were militant, expansionist, imperialist, supremacist, and dangerous. If a Cinyan ship was attacked in Ungghindi waters, the Imperial Dominion was sure to respond violently. This was the cause of the massive panic in the room, as men attempted repeatedly to hail the Mercy without result.

“IDS Mercy, this is Joss Porting Authority, please clarify your position.” The man waited for a response calmly, he had been working at the port for a very long while now, head of the Joss Porting Authority, he had had close calls in the past, but everything always worked out… still, this situation unnerved him. It was a very delicate situation, too delicate to be left to a simple civilian who managed Joss’s Port. “Mercy, please respond.” Still nothing. With an angry curse the map slammed his fist into the table, their radio must have been down- it was the only solution, otherwise they would have answered by now. “If you can hear this, try to make some kind of physical sign.” He continued, hoping it may only be their ability to respond that was compromised. “Hand me those,” he told his subordinate who was using a pair of high-powered binoculars to locate the source of the smoke. The binoculars were powerful, and made him feel as though he was standing on the deck, but alas there was no sign of life at all other than the ships continued, quick advance. Suddenly, as if the darkness and forlorn was expelled by a sudden brilliant light, he saw six men walk onto the deck in uniform. “They can hear us! IDS Mercy, IDS Mercy, we see your men- we are capable of communicating in Morse Code if your radio is not functioning. Give us a sign.” He was ecstatic; the Mercy was nearing the shore, and now that they understood each other and communication was being established, hopefully, an international incident would be prevented.

“What are they doing,” asked a curious onlooker, prompting the man to look again into his binoculars. He was surprised to see they were not setting up lights or bringing out communication flags, rather these six men were entering the three helicopters sitting on the pad. Obviously, he reasoned, they must need to speak face-to-face, and are sending people over. However, no amount of rationalizing would calm the growing knot in his stomach… he was no expert, but those didn’t look like medical helicopters to him. As their blades began to spend, and the three helicopters took flight he reached for the walkie-talkie, he’d have to call them again to request clarification of this. As his finger depressed the button and cleared the static, a single, white missile came shooting from one of the helicopters as the three birds flew by, slamming through the glass of the control tower. “What the,” he heard someone shout before a tremendous blast, he was blinded for a moment by a brilliant ball of fire, and for the slightest of seconds he felt the most intense pain and then… nothing.

The massive hospital ship, the IDS Mercy, came to a low halt along the docks and dropped the massive evacuation and loading doors forming a fair portion of the sides. Screams could be heard from the startled crowd as thousands of soldiers began to poor out of the hospital ship turned weapon and unleashed their weapons indiscriminately into the crowds. Overhead, the helicopters, Cobras, separated to cover a fair portion of the city, firing carelessly into crowds with mini-guns and attacking the city’s capitol buildings, police stations, subway entrances, notable monuments, and other worthwhile sites with rocket fire. As the soldiers cleared out the Port, engineers and technicians began examining the ships docked in the harbor, going through contents and seizing any cargo they considered valuable and carefully noting the number and type of ships docked there, if a ship was missing later on during the occupation, there would be severe consequences- likely for innocent bystanders.

Jikor Village,
March 3rd, 1970
The Republic of Ungghindi

The village of Jikor was a small and inconsequential village by Cinyan standards, however to the Ungghindi it was an important historical and cultural site, the Garden of Eden of their beliefs. In their mythology, it was where their gods had created the universe and it was where their culture derived from, as well as their former capital city. However, to the Cinyan soldiers approaching it was nothing more than a filthy shantytown with some stone relics stubbornly resisting the march of time. Once the village had been surrounded by nicer homes owned by cattle merchant and goat herders, but these people had been killed while during the Cinyan advance. So far, the march into Ungghindi had proven to be more of a vacation for the soldiers than actual work, they had experienced random and light fire at the border, but even that had subsided after a few tanks and helicopters had been flown over, killing any defenders so foolish as to refuse to flee. The troops had been marching for a while now though, that much was true and they rejoiced when their wretched destination came into sight, a depressing village of black shacks against the sands.

“HQ, this is Corps Centurion Aristides Pericles- we have Jikor in sight and are requesting an initial sweep, also bring up the construction crews- I have orders to set up Purification Center codenamed Prima in this location.” Centurion Pericles was an intimidating figure, standing just over six feet, with dark brown hair, dead green eyes, and a powerful square facial features. Though it was not his appearance that worried the men he was with, rather his uniform. It was black, everything about it was black. The shoes were black and polished something they maintained despite having trekked through the desert. Much of his uniform was shrouded due to the long black tunic featuring buttons of silver, which was buttoned despite the heat. He also wore the black gloves and hat. For the most part the uniform was without symbol, it did not give his name, his rank, anything. What it did do was display the crest of the Imperial Dominion Desolator Corps, and that was enough to know he needed to be left alone.

The rhythmic thud of spinning helicopter blades could be heard in the distance, responding immediately to Pericles’ orders. They were Sioux Seize Helicopters, an improved civilian design which allowed them to carry napalm, the deadly blood of Vulcan, which was now used against the people, many of them still asleep in their homes. At this explosion of fire even the soldiers flinched, not due to any sense empathy for these people but rather just by the deadly force of the weapon, however Pericles’ face remained unchanged.

“Move in and exterminate anyone left, don’t be lazy- a single person remaining could prove to be a serious problem to the image we’re trying to present. Also, destroy or deface everything of cultural value, these people need to forget their backwardness. It is for the greater good.” With a simple nod, the Corps officer walked to a tent that had been set up shortly after the napalm strike. Sighing as he stepped out of the hot sun and into the cool shade, his face showed only his slight disappointment that furniture had not been added yet. He had been placed in charge of the purification of this new imperial province and he had a lot to plan if he was to be successful, but for right now the immediate actions he needed to take had been handled, and so he sat down on the sand and began thinking of what he was going to write to Aemiliana, his wife of twelve years and mother of his four children- she would be glad to hear the campaign was going so well.

[Cinya]

Jikor Facility
April 3rd, 1970
Occupied Ungghindi

It had taken nearly a month, but the Jikor Purification Facility was finally up and running at peak efficiency, bringing in people from nearby cities, determining their use and capabilities and then exterminating the vast majority. It was bloody, it was cruel, it was disgusting, but it was an extremely efficient system which made even colder souls whisper of the barbarity of the national policy. The Facility was a large rectangular building, with three squares coming off it to the north, south, and east. The northern square was where officers of the Desolation Corps would live and spend their free time; the square to the east was set aside for the generators of the building, while the Imperial Dominion was vicious, they were not wasteful and much of the power generated came from things such as natural gas and in some cases biological fuel from terminated prisoners, who were housed in the southern block. The large central portion of the facility was dedicated to the processing of new arrivals, several biological weapons labs, and the extermination facilities.

Aristides Pericles was a Centurion in the Desolation Corps and, like every other officer in the Desolation Corps, had dedicated his life to serving the Corps and the Imperial Dominion. Pericles had been awarded the Cinyan Silver Eagle for being exceptionally efficient in past endeavors, and it was that reputation that had ensured his appointment as commanding officer of the Jikor Purification Facility.

Outside, Aristides could hear the rumbling of truck approaching the Facility. With a sigh, the tall officer pulled himself up from his desk, the arrival had stopped him seconds short of opening a letter from his daughter. Being away in the field so much translated to mean he spent little time with his family, the only thing he regretted about joining the corps. He was a blessed man, a fine position in the Corps, and, based on her producing two sets of twins, a very fertile wife, two beautiful daughters just as many handsome sons. He couldn’t complain about the fine life he led, but damn he hated being dragged away from his letters, his only strong tie to his family.

“New arrivals?” Pericles asked as he stepped onto the wet, slick cement outside. The cement had very clear labels which directed people to different paths based on sex and age, however the still shimmering water indicated that someone had tried to run, obviously they couldn’t leave blood on the cement. Not only would the presence of blood frighten fresh prisoners, it would also ruin perfectly shined boots.

“Affirmative sir,” responded a man by far his superior’s younger. Likely a strong ambitious boy who was looking to climb the ranks and, if God allowed, be granted a position similar to Pericles’s one day. “This batch was found trying to sneak to the border with Wolfmanne. Apparently they thought we were too stupid to block off the border.” The young man said with a laugh; however when he saw his superior was not even smiling he quickly reassumed his military bearing.

Pericles cast an eye out over the scene. His ears had deceived him, as there were three trucks, not one. They were large vehicles which had been used as troop transports before being retired and refit for the transportation of prisoners. They were designed to comfortably seat twenty men comfortably with room enough for tables and bathrooms, but since their retirement they had been stripped of the tables and restrooms so that more enemies could be crammed in, and the Centurion was willing to wager that these three trucks had brought him, easily, 150 more inmates.

As the doors of each truck was opened, soldiers with assault rifles reached in and yanked the first couple of prisoners out of the trucks, for some reason these peoples seemed to think that if they simply refused to leave the vehicles, no harm would come to them. Pericles did not truly understand their reasoning, but they were foreigners and he made no great effort to. These people were amazingly dark, certainly the Imperial Dominion could boast many shades of men, but none as dark as these Ungghindis- they also had created the most disgusting language for themselves, something that sounded more like a swarm of insects with all the humming and occasional clicks than anything a dignified human would speak.

Slowly, these people were herded from their crammed trucks to the more opened courtyard of the Facility. Surrounding the entire Purification Facility was an eighteen foot tall fence, it was electric and topped with barbed wire, at regular intervals were guard towers fitted with two machine guns, one facing out of the Facility, the other in. There were no more than twenty young Corpsmen to keep order on the ground, most of them indicating to the massive arrows on the ground which, as mentioned, guided people to different entrances based on sex and age.

Pericles shook his head; this was a sad sight- mostly women and children. He supposed that the men in the families were staying to fight off the inevitable occupation, but that didn’t comfort him any. The reason for his remorse originated from the fact that just yesterday he had received word from the work camps asking for more men, and with all these women and children he would have to explain to his colleague why he was not capable of sending anymore men at this time, such inefficiency disheartened Pericles.

His train of thought was interrupted as shots rang out, followed in short order by screams as people quickly checked to make sure it was not them who had been the target of the four bullets. An additional shot, flying harmlessly into the air, was required to calm the situation back to the levels it had been earlier and in the new calm, Pericles could see what had started the conflict. A mother, damned mothers were normally the problem. This one had apparently been unwilling to allow herself to be separated from her son, a son of at least seven- capable of walking by himself if nothing else. She had learned, in the split seconds Pericles imagined, that it was foolish to make such scenes for now she was lying in a pull of blood, she was still alive but not for much longer. It got worse, Cinyan policy demanded that people be made examples of- in this case that meant that her son, tall for his age though obviously underfed and thin, had to be shot. The last thing this women would see would be her son’s chest liquefying as bullets tore through it, his eyes losing that spark of life few Cinyans could recognize, and the last thing her ears would hear would be the gasps and moan of pain as the young boy collapsed onto the floor.

“This is the price for resistance,” shouted the officer responsible for getting these cattle through processing. He didn’t know if they could understand him, some Ungghindis could speak Latin normally they were from the border area with Cinya, or perhaps simply educated- but very few Cinyans could speak Ungghindi, in fact it had been a Ungghindi man who spoke Latin who was responsible for the helpful and informative writing on the cement. Still, some things in life are capable of easily hurtling the language barrier, and Pericles was confident that this was one of them. “Any others who refuse to be escorted to their proper destinations will suffer fates far worse. Move along now,” he finished, sighing at the fact that they would have to wash down the cement again.

These people, cattle more correctly, were terrified. They did not move, not an inch. This only caused the officer to roll his eyes, every Cinyan on the ground there hated it when the prisoners froze. The men were responsible, Pericles reasoned, normally they have men with them who keep them going but not today- very few men made the entire process more taxing. Seeing that his officer was just going to order his subordinates to open fire, which would have cost a wasteful amount of life, Pericles stepped in.

“Does anyone here speak standard,” he questioned, standard being Latin. Cinyans had started referring to it as standard after their conquests of neighboring nations with different tongues than Cinya. Luckily, the Centurion received a response from one of the older gentlemen in the group, possibly a retiree who had done business with the Cinyans near the border. “Excellent,” he said to the frail elder, “translate my words.” He took a breath and allowed the gentlemen to prepare himself and explain what was about to occur in that terrible cacophony they called a language. “I am the commanding officer of this Facility. Allow me to answer what you are probably asking yourselves- yes, we are cruel but we are equally cruel to all. You do not have to like us, you do have to respect us. You will not enjoy your stay here, but it will be overly quickly.” The man translated, and it seemed to put the people back at ease, perhaps they had misunderstood what he meant when he said it would only be a brief experience, or more probably the old fool had mistranslated. Whatever the reason, the officer was happy that they were once again calmly proceeding into the processing sites.

The processing procedures were quick and brutal, designed by Pericles himself. The first step was to record their age and health status, if they were met specific criteria doctors would take them away to one of the biological weapons lab to be subjected to numerous biological agents and then dissected, obviously without medication for to purchase that much tranquilizer would be grossly expensive. The work being done every day by Corps Doctors was indeed a bloody business- and a loud one, so much so that the doctors were given special ear protection, otherwise the government feared they’d go deaf from the shrill screeching. Still, it was periods just like this one when Cinya had made its greatest scientific discoveries of the modern era- other nations were too timid to try experimental biological agents on humans, even while they developed the same agents for use in war. Certainly some nations would have been using their prisoners already sentenced to death for some research, but the Secret Police and Intelligence Agency- SIA had insisted that no nation in the world could match Cinya in the means of biological warfare because Cinya had a seemingly never ending supply of subjects, and the more often something was tested and used, the faster it was to perfect it.

Of course, not everyone was suited to serve the Imperial Dominion by exploring the effects of different manmade diseases, others with less healthy bodies could be sent to work camps- but this was reserved for men as to avoid procreation amongst the prisoners. Though there were those who could be of no foreseeable use in anyway- these people were hobbled by a man with a heavy sledge hammer and sent to await extermination. Extermination was occurring twenty-four seven, often by means of gas, but simple starvation was also common- the idea was to have enough inmates to kill at a constant rate and still have some left over incase a work camp needed resupplying, the hobbling was necessary also, if only because there was a high price to pay for escapes, and people who had had their feet shattered and received no medical attention to correct the damage would not walk, let alone run away.

That was however, only the worse, albeit most common, outcomes arriving at the Purification Facility could include. Not everything that resulted from arrival involved death, either by sickness, overwork, or other means. It was not infrequent for the most beautiful women to be taken as pleasure women for the troops. Technically, it was perfectly allowable for the fine young men in General Infantry to do with as they willed to women in towns they were occupying, however, many men restrained themselves due to the assumed filth of foreigners. Pleasure women were different however, they received tests to ensure they were free of disease, and unlike the hideous foreign masses, only those who were most Cinyan in appearance- or otherwise exceptionally beautiful were selected for what should be considered a coveted role. Not only were comfort women allowed to live for the duration of the occupation and sometimes also afterwards, they were treated better while they were present- sleeping in officer’s quarters, allowed to eat and shower daily, and even allowed to socialize with other comfort women. Still, even these roles were despised by the people, truly demonstrating their absolute lack of any form of gratefulness, complete lack of any kind grace in defeat.

“Sir,” the voice pulled Pericles from his thoughts. The majority of the people had been taken into the Facility, and it was only probable that most had been hobbled, not that one would be able to tell as much of the Facility was sound proof to ensure officers got a good night’s rest. The Centurion turned and saw one of his logistics officers was standing, just outside the door to one of the processing offices one foot still inside as though he did not want to expose himself to the countless war crimes foreign nations would accuse them of, all of which were initiated in this cement courtyard.

“What is it,” he responded, the annoyance was clear in his voice. He wanted to return to his office, so that he could read his daughter’s letter, he probably could have had it read if he wasn’t expected to observe every arrival within sane hours, he would already have both read and replied to the letter which the mundane sight had kept him from.

“Senator Apollinaris is on the phone, he wants to speak to you.” Pericles’s entire demeanor changed in an instant, Senator Quintillus Apollinaris was the Chairman for the Senate’s Military Commission, effectively the elected authority that presided over the armed forces, and was essentially the Senate’s embodied authority over all matters relating to the military. Pericles nodded and rushed back into his office. Several procedures were taken before he picked up the phone; among them were closing and locking the thick, bullet proof oak door, and quickly pulling the maroon curtains closed.

“Senator Apollinaris,” the officer questioned into the telephone, only to be greeted by a grunt. The Senator was not a poet, rather, he was a large man and not particularly handsome, he was respected because the nation had expanded its military power a great deal under him and because of the importance of his position. To the Centurion however, this Senator could be a stepping stone to an even higher office, or his ultimate demise.

“Drop the formalities,” were the first word from the Senator’s lips, they were not threatening by nature however the tone implied that the Senator was in a very, very poor mood and likely as a result of actions taken by Pericles at the Purification Facility, or worse yet he may have had a problem he was relying on Pericles to solve. It was easy to sit through a yelling, and any lost respect could be quickly regained but if you were unable to assist the Senator when he, by the sound of it, had exhausted previous options, it meant that when promotions came around your name could be foully remembered and passed over because of it. “The Ungghindi are still resisting in the country side, I’ve spoken to the men on the ground and they insist that it could be crushed by sending additional men to the front- however elections are coming up and we’d like this matter resolved so that it’s a weapon in the Imperial Party camp and not our opponents. A troop surge does nothing for public support, and as the highest ranking Desolation Corps officer in the area, you are going to give me a better solution. Aren’t you?” The man said in his famous gruff voice, there was the hint of condescension that could be heard in the voice of every Senator but also the authority which was found by men who command the military but did not serve in it, the exasperation at things that they could not possibly understand.

“Certainly Senator,” Pericles said sharply, as though it was a very simple matter. However, in truth it was anything but a simple matter. The Cinyans had occupied every major highway and road in Ungghindi, so they were confident there could be no large scale troop movements, however that did not assist in the soldiers resisting them out in the wild, random hit and run tactics and blinding in among the villages which soldiers had yet to reach and purge.

The military officers the Senator had spoken to have given him the simplest and most obvious solution, and he had thrown it out. Though certainly you didn’t have to be in the service or possess a brilliant mind to understand that in order to police a population the size of Ungghindi while it was reduced to a more manageable number required more soldiers than what the Imperial Dominion had advocated. Still, if the Senator wasn’t going to accept the direct answer, then he would need to be given a better one. Pericles said nothing for a moment as his mind raced, analyzing the information at hand and trying to come up with a different solution before it finally came to him.

“Senator, I’m with the Desolation Corps as you stated. If we don’t have the policemen to keep the number of inmates inline, I suggest we lower the number of inmates.” Pericles took a pause, but the Senator was obviously allowing him to elaborate as he had said nothing- though his breathing could still be heard heavy and rhythmic. “We have every major road, and most of this dirt is very, very dry. I’d imagine that without food running constantly these people are starting to starve. Have we confirmed this much?” The Senator spat out some numbers and figures SIA had calculated which agreed with the officer’s assumption, the people would eventually starve to death but that wasn’t what could help the Senator in the now. “Yes Senator, then I have a suggestion that may allow us to conquer this pathetic nation without ever having to do so much as to fire a single bullet.” The Senator was intrigued, and, with a smile on his face, Pericles continued to elaborate on his theory.

Jikor Facility
April 8th, 1970
Occupied Ungghindi


It had only taken five days, less than a week for the Imperial Dominion to organize their first wave. Lined up were large crates that were being loaded onto helicopters and plans, inside the crates were countless cans of food. Nothing special, nothing especially delicious, instead the cans were filled with the same foods that SIA had calculated the Imperial Dominion could gather in a similar time frame, they had gone to extreme means to ensure that no one would suspect that this was actually from the Imperial Dominion. In fact, Pericles had even ordered a Cinyan fighters to down several of the delivery planes which would prove beyond doubt that these were foreign jets flying over the warzone. It was unfortunate about the loyal pilots who would be killed, but there was no greater honor than to die for the Imperial Dominion of Cinya, regardless if you intended to or not.

Despite the fact that it had been predicted Ungghindi had no organized method to distribute food, the Cinyans had considered the possibility that the people may not eat the food, people could go for some time without it, and they may have brought food with them when they fled. However, they were hiding in the desert- the desert of Ungghindi was randomly placed but it was hot and barren and it was impossible for them to still have large supplies of water. Even it if was only the children, someone would drink the water that was also being delivered. The Imperial Dominion was an effective fighting force and intended to kill the remaining Ungghindi and weaken those who survived beyond their ability to resist, and to accomplish this, patiently sitting in each of the countless bottles of water, waiting with lethal intent, were billions of Vibrio cholerae bacteria cells- perhaps more commonly known as cholera.

Cholera had been selected for a number of reasons- primarily because cholera was naturally transmitted by water, meaning that the Imperial Dominion didn’t have to spend as much money mutating a virus to survive and thrive in the water, nor did Cinya have to spend or reveal some of the other deadly biological weapons in the arsenal of the Imperial Dominion. However, perhaps the greatest use of cholera is that it caused the average person to lose over a litter of water a day, just in diarrhea and almost a second liter in vomit, symptoms would last for some eight days and cholera would always cause death due to dehydration if the sufferer didn’t manage to replenish their water reserves, and in the Ungghindi desert, the only source of water would be additional bottles dropped, contaminated with cholera.

Pericles read over a few of the sample notes that had been given to him, the notes were in Cinyan, though the ones that were delivered would be Ungghindi, they read, “survivors of the Cinyan war of aggression against Ungghindi,” followed by the seal of whatever nation was supposedly responsible for delivery it continued, “know that you are not alone, the nations of the world have rallied behind the people of Ungghindi. A universal coalition composed of nations from every are of the Cornellian region have come to your aid, we are supplying you water and food while we use diplomatic and if necessary military force to leave Cinya no option but to retreat and pay your nation reparations.” Pericles smiled at that bit, so far the Senate hadn’t received so much as a communique of protest, let alone faced any international brigades demanding they cease, but the Ungghindi had been cut off from any communication with the outside world and wouldn’t be so wise. The note concluded, “don’t give up. You are not alone.”

Pericles smiled as he folded the notes, having given them approval and ordered the transports take off. He predicted that in two weeks, there would be an epidemic so bad that the Ungghindi would be begging for Cinyan assistance, if the remnants of the Ungghindi government cared about their people, they would order they surrender. It was, after all, better that three in four die than all four. Furthermore, cholera had proven itself many times over to be one of the kings of death and there would be no resistance one it took hold. The Imperial Dominion was going to win this war swiftly, regardless of how many had to die for them to finally claim victory, this was the Cinyan way.