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by **New Edom** » Sat Jan 04, 2014 8:00 pm

Bountiful Park
"All we are saying is..." Livia Barberina yelled into the mike.

"Give Peace a Chance," echoed the crowd. This was more than just idealism—it was a very important part of the political struggle. Thus far the growing political movement for independence had used peaceful tactics, had avoided violence in the streets though they had defended themselves from national socialist thugs.

They were well prepared now for the military government’s hammer . Any heavy-handed impulse to break up the gig would be defeated by the sheer weight of numbers and the unspoken fact that many within the political establishment were secretly pleased that they now had the excuse of popular dissent to put their feet on the brakes on the otherwise inexorable drive towards global destruction. In any case, the police would be impotent to break up a demonstration of such numbers. There weren't enough of them to make a difference and anyway they were so corrupt and compromised that they no longer commanded any respect; you rarely saw them doing anything but eating at cafes and glaring at demonstrations and rallies now. The Militias of the Communist, Socialist, Feminist and Intellectual Parties dominated the city. The military had the weapons to deal with social dissent, but they were of little use against a peaceful protest however many laws were being openly flouted. Not with Pahath-Moab’s much vaunted respect for local and protectorate government. He had promised not to send the army into the city again; they were largely holed up at their bases near Iphigenia. And they had better plans now; they had listening post systems, they had spies at the bases, they would ideally know when any movement began.

Many people in the crowd were in various states of dress, but very few were following the Compulsory Nudity Act, even if all they wore was a shawl around the waist, a t shirt or a pair of shorts; they were all in various ways defying it.

One of the local bands, the Fishermen’s Friends, were going to perform today. They had catchy tunes and inspired arrangements, that was for sure. They also had an extra spark revealed by their exuberant showmanship. With only a modicum of technology, they immediately grabbed the audience's attention and got them to dance and even sing along to tunes that were a reminder of a far distant age of an agrarian Edom. It wasn’t the kind of music Livia had begun her career with—she had wanted to be offensive and defiant in a different way, but as she asked the crowd to give it up for the Fishermen’s Friends, she had the feeling they were onto something as she asked them to perform what the Gloria Regis blogosphere had voted for
the new anthem of Gloria Regis.

There's a land that I see where the children are free
And I say it ain't far to this land from where we are
Take my hand, come with me, where the children are free
Come with me, take my hand, and we'll live

In a land where the river runs free
In a land through the green country
In a land to a shining sea
And you and me are free to be you and me

I see a land bright and clear, and the time's comin' near
When we'll live in this land, you and me, hand in hand
Take my hand, come along, lend your voice to my song
Come along, take my hand, sing a song

For a land where the river runs free
For a land through the green country
For a land to a shining sea
For a land where the horses run free
And you and me are free to be you and me

Every boy in this land grows to be his own man
In this land, every girl grows to be her own woman
Take my hand, come with me where the children are free
Come with me, take my hand, and we'll run

To a land where the river runs free
To a land through the green country
To a land to a shining sea
To a land where the horses run free
To a land where the children are free
And you and me are free to be
And you and me are free to be
And you and me are free to be you and me

Amid the cheers and laughter, Livia Barberina, in a flowing green chiton that emphasized her slender limbs, her long dark crinkled hair and expressive thin face, raised a hand and held the microphone. "Weren't they great?" she smiled at the cheers. "There's hardly ever been an athem like that...I could sing that all day. You know, citizens, I look over your smiling faces, I look over this beautiful country, and I think that we should be free. And we seem to be--we've had our elections, we are in government. But you know what? We're not free if we live on sufferance. I see a lot of people like me wearing what they want to...and the National Government tolerates that. But how long will they tolerate it? At any moment they could tell us to strip just as they did after the shootings." she listened to the ugly growl in some of the crowd, the groanings and noises of grief in other parts. "So I have to say...that it doesn't seem right to me. But you know what? I didn't come here to talk to you all like some tyrant! So I want in the coming days for YOU to think about what YOU want, because the whole point of this government is so that YOU can decide how you want the place you live run! Now put your hands together for Fishermen's Friends as they sing their next song..."

The Palace of the Ethnarch

Nelson Smith lay in a bed with a breathing fork attached to his lumpy nose, covered by a sheet, with his long time companion Vera beside him, reading to him from the Sixington Reader.

THE SIXINGTON LEADER
VOL. 32 NO. 163
CITY FINAL
SATURDAY JANUARY 4, 2014

SIXINGTON, Gloria Regis— After the Protectoral Legislature of Gloria Regis recently passed the New Finance Bill that polls have shown to be very unpopular with the public, a group of concerned citizens has called for mandatory referenda for all laws passed before the state.

"We want real democracy, and we want it now!" proclaimed Jason Cavanaugh, Co-Leader of the Intellectual Party which holds 13% of the Protectorate's Legislature, the Senate “The fact that this latest law went through has proven that voting for a Legislature every four years is obviously not enough. Laws must be passed by the masses - that is the only way we can be sure that the will of the people is truly being enforced! We must have mandatory referenda for ALL new laws. In this case we are NOT happy with a law that will destabilize already successful financial institutions in the protectorate."

However legislator and deputy communist party leader Remegius Macro had another thought. "This is a ridiculous and dangerous idea! Referenda are costly and inefficient, and a direct threat to the fine institution that is our Legislature. Are you aware that there are outside forces constantly trying to undermine what little we have achieved? We need to focus on achieving land reform and financial reform of this protectorate! I know that Comrade Smith would want it that way.”

"Referenda are a good idea in principle, but to make them mandatory for each and every law is simply impractical," states Political Scientist Abraham Zhimo. "Representative democracy exists because direct democracy would never work in practice in a large society such as Gloria Regis. Just think of all the bureaucracy and expense that would go into it! I suggest that referenda be allowed, but only if at least a third of voters sign a petition requesting one. That should be a nice balance between democracy and practicality."

Smith sighed and put the paper down. “I’d want it that way, would I? I’m glad he knows…” he felt exhausted just reading the paper.

“Macro is a fighter—that’s why you put him forward as deputy party leader.” Vera pointed out calmly. “Are you in pain, do you need the nurse?”

“No, I’m just tired all the time. Damned ridiculous…a heart attack! I’m in the prime of my health!” Smith grumbled.

“And more stress than you’ve ever dealt with in your life,” Vera pointed out. “Take this as a chance to rest—it’s an extreme way of getting it but you’ve never done things by halves….”
He smiled slowly. “No…that’s true enough, old girl, I haven’t….”

by **New Edom** » Sat Jan 04, 2014 9:38 pm

Little Baiae, Gloria Regis

Little Baiae was one of the best beaches on Gloria Regis, yet it was little known. It was 11 km from the Naval Observation Port, a small naval base that was mostly a search and rescue, weather observation, radar station and landing area for P-20 Maritime Patrol craft. There were only about 200 personnel based there. It was not publicly documented. The nearby beach was secretly covered by hidden bunkers and SAM batteries, but it was also used by military personnel as a secret holidaying spot when they couldn’t get to the mainland.

Two rocky pine-covered hills in the middle of the basin became islands. "Cave Island" was big, flat, and horseshoe-shaped. Its south end was a wide sharply curving beach.

Hasta Island, stretching south from the mouth of Little Baiae’s bay, was a long narrow ridge, flaring into a broad tip, resembling a spear, or as Issachar Romain preferred to say, like a prick. Properly speaking it wasn’t an island but a small peninsula, but it could easily be mistaken for one. It was here that the best beach was, and Isssachar Romain and his mother were not alone there.

People said he got his good looks from his parents. He had never really known his father; his mother had married, had intended to follow a typical army career for a woman, albeit in intelligence when she had met his father, who was a dashing helicopter pilot by all accounts, the commander of an aviation battalion. Then he died in a crash. His mother had changed; never remarried, had fought hard to get into the mechanized infantry. No argument—she was a tough woman. His hatred for her was more personal than professional. And yes, he could see the good looks in both of them; as she came out of the water, General Felicity Romain rose from the waves like a sea goddess, barely breathing hard after her swim. Water streamed over her breasts and buttocks and ran down her legs. She squeezed the water from her thick unbound auburn hair as she smiled and waved at him. She was 40 years old, but appeared to be in her mid-20s.

Her trim body was 5' 10" tall, with the sleek build of a runner and swimmer. She regularly lifted weights and it was said that she could do an obstacle course like an eighteen year old. He watched sourly as she smiled at him, walking barefoot and naked towards him, her breasts sagging with age but otherwise bouncing healthily as she flopped down onto the towel, reached for a smaller one to dry her hair. He had a similar albeit male build, never had any complaints, though while he could admire attractive women his tastes ran the other way. He couldn’t help but feel dry in his throat watching a group of young officers playing the surf, throwing a Frisbee back and forth and laughing. Men. Like the ancient gods you could see in old gardens around the province…

“Why be such a grump?” she asked. “Why didn’t you come for a swim?”

“Because I hate you,” he said. It was easy to say, he hated saying it in a way, felt both satisfaction and sadness seeing a flash of hurt before she controlled her features.

“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth…” she said wryly. “And yet even now there is no honour I would not vest in you. You are my only son.”

“Yes. Though the word ‘only’…and not much of a son,” said Issachar bitterly. “Most mothers are home for their children.”

“Oh there’s some consistency. You support the Communists and Feminist Collective, yet you wanted me to remarry and stay home bloating with more children so I could give you millet porridge?” snapped his mother.

“There we go,” he said with bitter satisfaction. “Mother, if you could only support me, we’d be loving mother and son. I support your choices—horrid as they are—why can you not support mine?”

“Why can you not be a natural son and support your family?” she demanded.

“What family? Father’s family barely speaks to us, your family treats you like you’re a two headed calf…and me…” he clenched his fists. The young officer dashing by to pick up the Frisbee shouting (great throw jerkoff!) caught his eye, and he felt that sick feeling of dread and desire. Always like playing Russian Roulette, never knowing if it would be mere rejection or hatred, never knowing if it would be acceptance followed by pretense of never happening…”Forget it, this was a waste of time. I have work to do in Sixington.”

“Oh yes, work.” her blue eye snapped, though her tone was quiet, barbed but quiet. “What work is that? Agitating for your rebellious friends? You know that if things get out of hand I cannot and will not protect you?”

“Then disown me. Then the Council Police will never ask why you have a commie for a son.” Issachar sat up and began to dust sand off his feet and put his sandals on.

“Where are you going?” she leaned up on her elbows, staring at him.

“I’m going home.” Issachar gave her a mock bow. “General, thank you for honouring me with your company, but I’m going to leave you.”

If only there was some emotion on her face but she made a curt gesture. “Fine then, go. You’re so thin skinned. You react like…like a woman.”

“Glad one of us can be the man of the family.” He bowed to her again “Give my regards to the Officer’s Mess. I’ll see if I can pick up some nice male company for the trip—“

“Why must you talk like that? Don’t you see—if you just tried with a woman again, you’d find—“

“Oh mother, don’t you see? You’re such a damned hypocrite! They used to write token cunt on your footlocker! You had to fight against the way people saw you—don’t you see it’s the same with me?” he demanded. "They still look down on you, they still don't fully trust you because you have ovaries! Mother--we should be--"

“Lower your voice—“ she began. Issachar could only hear that she was ashamed of him though and hurried off, breathing hard. He didn’t want her to see his tears. It was crazy—he had been in demonstrations and riots as dangerous as any combat, but because he wasn’t in uniform, because his emotions could be seen on his face, his mother despised him.

He could not even talk about what was in his heart—how he was grieving for Nelson Smith, who was like the only father he had known, and hoped to…well he believed in no God, but hoped to providence if there was such a thing that he would make it through…

by **Rastovia** » Sat Jan 04, 2014 9:42 pm

Krepenskiy - Rastovian National Congress Hall

"Support should be given to the Communist Party of Gloria Reglis.. If we don't now they may be swept under the rug by opposition parties" a Congressmen explained as other congress members agreed and others just listened. The National Congress session had been going for a good hour and a good many of the congressmen were weary and tired and wanted to go home. Unfortunately they could not until it was agreed to if support should be given or not. It had also been made apparent that Nelson Smith who was the leader of the communist party had gone ill, which gave concern on weather support was worth it.

"Their is a national socialist party in this country, support for the communist party should be done without question to keep the fascists from corrupting another nation" said another congressmen in support. More congressmen were beginning to agree with the idea of support for the communist party of Gloria Reglis. The session was soon to come to a close as the speaker of the hall approached the podium and got the congressmen to quiet down as he made the conclusion speech which would decide for support or no support.

"It is apparent that the nation of Gloria Reglis is in dire need of revolution and guidance by the Communist Party of Gloria Reglis which should be the single governing party in the country. As speaker of the hall and listening to the speeches and debates given on the issue, I announce that support will be given to the Communist Party of Gloria Reglis." The speaker announced as the national congress hall erupted into applause as the speaker nodded and shook his fist in a positive matter with a smile.

"The workers of Gloria Reglis will be broken of their chains!" The speaker shouted as the hall continued with applause before it quieted down and the announcer as he was ready to end the congress session. A band soon begun to play the instrumental to the 'Internationale'as the entire hall begun to sing the lyrics.

==++==++==

THE PEOPLE'S DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF RASTOVIA

To: The Communist Party of Gloria Reglis
From: Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Subject: Support.
Priority: HIGH

Greetings fellow Comrades!,

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs representing the interests of the Communist Party of Rastovia would like to formally extend a hand of helping to your cause. We have heard of the heightened problems occurring in Gloria Reglis, and we would like to ensure that the Communist party are victorious and whatever outcome it takes to have Gloria Reglis under a socialist government. If you wish, a diplomatic team can be sent to meet your leader for options of support. We hope you accept our offer.

sincerely signed,
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs

by **New Edom** » Sat Jan 04, 2014 10:10 pm

The Communist Party of Gloria Regis HQ
Ca Ira played over a loudspeaker, not drowning out conversation, but simply there in the background.

It was a former bank, the kind in former Cornellian colonies, with Doric columns archways and smooth polished granite floors and counters, and it had once been a branch of Yohannische Bundesbank. Now it was where people gathered as a party; inside the portico you could see a blood red banner that read DEATH TO TYRANTS and beneath it strong rawboned men with red caps and submachineguns proudly standing guard.

Inside people were busy circulating memos, making policy plans; the former clerks’ desks and the big granite tellers’ bar were now occupied by Party members who were doing things from the Party newspaper to the planning of the distribution of emergency food stores to examining the corrupted former city and provincial infrastructure.

Remigius Macro a powerful man—at a distance could be mistaken for chubby but in fact was a solid man, built like a wild boar, powerful shoulders, huge hands that rivaled those of the Great Farmer Comrade Nelson Smith, the Deputy Chairman of the Party, was a man who seemed like he could barely sit still, so full of energy was he. It was this man, with his shock of dark hair, his broad olive brown face, his large eyes and his plain jacket, shirt and pants that read the message, and turned to his secretary, the lean dark goatee’d Lentullus, and said, “We need to respond to this. This is most interesting. Most interesting indeed.”

“What about Barberina?” cautioned Lentullus, even as he was getting his laptop out.

“It’s not addressed to the Protectorate’s Government, but to the Party.” Macro’s eyes flashed. “So in other words, to me.”

To the Foreign Ministry, People’s Democratic Republic of Rastovia
From the Communist Party of Gloria Regis

Dear Comrade Minister,
We would welcome a diplomatic meeting. When our party was elected it was in part because of a pact made with the Feminist Collective, a Socialist party of great popularity. At the moment our Premier and Party leader is very sick, but I will be available to meet with any envoys you would care to send.

Sincerely,
Remigius Macro
Deputy Party Chairman
Communist Party of Gloria Regis

by **Rastovia** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 12:48 am

Leaving Rastovian Airspace, Heading for Gloria Reglis

The private aircraft lifted off the ground as the wheels retracted into the aircraft and altitude gained. The aircraft was up in the air heading for Gloria Reglis. The occasion was to meet the Communist Party leader in Gloria Reglis to discuss support that the Rastovian government could give to their allies. Inside the plane was Dmitriy Varlaam, the foreign liason of the Communist Party. Along with him was Vikenti Kazimir a representative of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, these two men were crucial to establishing relations with the Gloria Reglisians under the communist banner. Grigory Anatoliy a member of the Committee of State Security also was present aboard the aircraft and would discuss the possible actions that could be carried out if things went out of control and the Communist Party was endangered. Of course two agents of the C.S.S were along for protection and armed with simple Makarov pistols, the aircraft was in the air now and flying towards Gloria Reglis now.

"Hopefully when we arrive we are not to late." Varlaam said as he sat in the passenger area with his associates that were along with him. The others sat with him and were discussing what was to come in Gloria Reglis.

"I'm sure our comrades in Gloria Reglis can hold themselves, we are a strong people who believe in a system where workers are finally the leading majority." Kazimir answered Varlaam as he nodded and so did Anatoliy.

Anatoliy took a sip of a glass of water which he preferred over his usual drink of alcohol because he did not want to get drunk before this important meeting. He looked at both of his fellow comrades, "I have heard things about these people, the Edomites." He began before going into greater detail. "They have compulsory nudity, they are all naked." he said as the other two looked at him with disbelief.

The two of them then looked at each other and then back to Anatoily. They were almost wondering if that was really water and not alcohol in the glass he was drinking. Kazimir was the first to speak up after that with a large grin on his face and chuckling as he spoke, "So these people are all. Naked?" he said and continued. "That's utterly ridiculous" he finished with a laugh as the others joined in.

Varlaam then spoke after having a laugh and raising his voice, "I hope their women have nice tit-ties!" he roared as they all laughed immensely at his comment looking at each other and even becoming teary eyed. Quickly they regained composure and continued on with the conversation as Kazimir nudged Varlaam in the arm.

"Going to Gloria Reglis will be better then porno" he said and laughed and so did Varlaam while he tried to drink from his glass he nearly spit it out but held it and swallowed. Varlaam playfully hit him in the shoulder and shook his head. Anatoliy shook his head and now attempted to get more serious with his two associates.

"Their premier is ill, it's rumored he suffered a heart attack." Anatoliy said guiding the others back on track. The other to shook their heads as they sat together and looked out the window at the empty sky. It would be a several hours before they'd arrive in Gloria Reglis.

==++==++==

Airport in Gloria Reglis, Touching down on the Runway

The pilots had hailed the Airport control tower as they made their approach to the runway. The aircraft's landing gear had opened as the plane descended towards the ground, the landing gear would hit the asphalt of the runway as the wheels began to roll. The plane came to a stop as the delegation unbuckled from their seats and the plane door was opened. The five person delegation team from Rastovia departed the airplane and would now come face to face with their comrades in the Communist Party of Gloria Reglis.

"No screwing around from this point forward, naked or dressed. Be civil to our hosts." Valraam told his associates as they made their way down the stairs and onto the tarmac to meet with the Gloria Reglisian communists.

by **New Edom** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 12:56 pm

Bountiful Park

Livia Barberina was dabbing at her face with a damp towel in an event tent when one of her aides, her press officer Cassandra Flox came in looking at her with a somewhat strained expression.

“Hey—you probably need to take a little break, huh? Did you see those crowds? What energy—and apparently Andromeda did well at the World Hit Festival so we’re really hitting the streets—“
“I’m sorry but you really need to see this,” said Cassandra apologetically, holding out her tablet to her.

The scene shown was clearly a NEN broadcast, with Clodia Falco, red haired and buxom, saying, “..a meeting between delegates from Rastovia and Remegius Macro, Deputy Chairman of the Gloria Regis Communist Party and de facto leader since the illness of Nelson Smith.” The men shown shaking hands before getting into a dark blue SUV and pulling away from an airport parking lot.

“Damn him…why am I finding out this from the news, Cass, can you tell me that?” she said, glaring at her press officer.

“I’ll find out more but I swear it happened so fast, like in the last day—“ Cassandra hastened to say, but Livia put up a hand and cut her off.

“I’ll bet my ass that The Worker had people there, but The Leader missed it. This happens too often, and I want us to start kicking some ass on that, got it?” Livia said in exasperation. “It’s all about the information, who gets it out, who spins it, Cass, don’t drop the ball again!” she groaned. “Ball. You know, no one can say ‘ball’ anymore without it being Pahaht-Moab’s word. That bastard. Alright, get on it—I’m sorry I snapped…”

“It’s been a hard few months,” Cassandra said, “But I wanted you to know right away. I think the way we handle this is of course we approve, it’s a party matter not a government matter, all for one, one for all, that kind of thing…”

Livia nodded, hands on her hips thoughtfully. “Yeah…yeah…and meanwhile find out what that ape in a suit is up to. The last thing we need is to be divided now. Did you hear him in the news the other day? No more referendums? Are you kidding me? It’s a sad day when Jason Cavanaugh is more of an ally than the Deputy Chairman…”

Sixington International Airport
The airport was nothing to write home about—it was a standard 1970s drab production of concrete and plastic, made during an era of budget cuts and half done reforms. It had a moderate capacity for traffic; Gloria Regis didn’t get a lot of tourism anymore. Most of the travelers were other New Edomites, and it wasn’t a busy time of year, so people seemed to be in acting in a leisurely way. Staff with their bodies painted in the Griffon Airlines colours swept floors, examined luggage, gave directions. Soldiers in urban camouflage BDUs with submachineguns and pistols acted as security.

A blonde woman with fair skin and sunglasses stopping to talk to a much taller brown haired man, talking casually and clearly about whether to rent a car or to take a taxi, the man demurring and saying, “I’m not sure, I mean when we arrive at the university we don’t want to seem like snobs…”

A man walking briskly by with a shoulder bag talking on a cellphone, saying, “Yes, I’m about to go to the gate right now, I’m sure he’ll be through any moment…no traffic hasn’t been too bad..”
Four people sitting at a table in a café inside the building, a dark short olive skinned slim brunette woman with her glasses up on her head, listening gravely; a lean brown haired man with similar skin tones talking with animation moving his hands, while a very fair skinned red head sat between he and the brunette, a man with a military looking tattoo on his shoulders sipping from a cup as he listened in turn; his hair however was not of military cut but was medium length dark brown.

A woman carrying an athletic bag, walking in high heeled sandals, her fair hair dancing on her shoulders, looking serious and like she was in a hurry to be somewhere.

They were all naked. This was in contrast to Macro and his assistants who had arrived, smiling, to welcome the Rastovians.

“Welcome to Gloria Regis, I wish you could have come in happier times!”

As he ushered them to an SUV it was clear that there were some press present. “I have no idea how this happened,” he said with a faint smile, “But you know these journalists, but it certainly can’t hurt our cause—no, no questions please, we have a busy schedule, perhaps later, thank you!”
When they had gotten in, he said, “You may be wondering, Comrades, why I am dressed, and my Comrades here are dressed? That is because we reject the Compulsory Nudity Act. I am no prude about the human body, though I think that wearing clothes is merely sensible, but to have it imposed is absurd. I won’t bore you with all the history of it, but suffice it to say that the national government are fascists, led by a military dictator. Before I start—do you have any questions for me?”

by **Rastovia** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 1:50 pm

Sixington Airport , Gloria Reglis

The Rastovian delegation were all smiles as they surveyed their surroundings. Sixington Airport was similar to airports in Rastovia which only one or two looked modern and more of a sight to look at. Fortunately they were greeted by clothed men of the Communist party. other bystanders were naked but it was a relief that they would not have to be stuck inside a vehicle with naked men. They were pleasantly greeted by the Reglisians and which they exchanged handshakes as they entered a SUV to head to where they would begin the meeting.

“You may be wondering, Comrades, why I am dressed, and my Comrades here are dressed? That is because we reject the Compulsory Nudity Act. I am no prude about the human body, though I think that wearing clothes is merely sensible, but to have it imposed is absurd. I won’t bore you with all the history of it, but suffice it to say that the national government are fascists, led by a military dictator. Before I start—do you have any questions for me?”

Varlaam nodded to the man as he adjusted in his seat before he decided to speak to the man. "It's very unfortunate this is forced upon you and the people of Gloria Reglis." he began and continued. "I hope that in the future Gloria Reglis will be a independent fully clothed socialist country built by the workers" he finished. The other men of the delegation remained silent as the car ride continued and Varlaam proceeded with a question.

"How influential could you say the fascist opposition party is in Gloria Reglis?" he asked so he could get a good idea of how bad the situation was and what would be need to be done to stop it.

by **New Edom** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 6:12 pm

Sixington: The Communists

“The fascists? They control a militia strong enough to keep their district of Sixington This young man,” said Macro, indicating a handsome young man with dark hair with reddish highlights, a young man handsome enough to be a Greek statue, fit and well shaped, with a slim nose and full mouth, wearing similar clothing, “Is Issachar Romain. He is the son of an Army General, and he has been a good Communist since he was seventeen years old. Seventeen years old!” he shook his head and clapped Issachar on the leg while the young man, now clearly in his early twenties, blushed and smiled. “but already a veteran!”

“I could strip my sleeves and show my scars, friends,” said Issachar solemnly, “And show you the results of brawls in the streets with these fascists. We’ve worked hard to create a militia that has been united under our leadership, from Socialists of all stripes who have come to see that the CPGR is the leadership they need. The fascists mirror themselves on the Kampfenlanders for certain, and are sucking up to the Pahath-Moab government. Oh make no mistake—they are tough enough; they control the Tabernacle District of the city and some rural towns as well where they train and keep supplies. They have access to the media.”

“So you see, they are opponents, but they are only the lickspittles of the national interim government,” explained Macro. “It is them that I’m concerned about as far as overt enemies go—but about the Socialists, the Intellectual Party and…yes…the Feminist Collective Party that concern me within. They want a provincial referendum to determine whether or not we should be independent. I think that we need more than that, I think that that is a waste of our energy. But I wonder what you outsiders think?”

As they drove along it could be seen that many larger businesses were closed—factories, canneries, warehousing looking quiet, with people on strike outside them barring the way in. Those people looked rather lean and frustrated, the salutes and cheers they gave angry rather than joyous. It was noticed that none of these demonstrators were unclothed; nearly all wore something in defiance of the Compulsory Nudity Act, in contrast to the average ordinary pedestrian who was following it.

by **Rastovia** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 6:52 pm

“The fascists? They control a militia strong enough to keep their district of Sixington This young man,” said Macro, indicating a handsome young man with dark hair with reddish highlights, a young man handsome enough to be a Greek statue, fit and well shaped, with a slim nose and full mouth, wearing similar clothing, “Is Issachar Romain. He is the son of an Army General, and he has been a good Communist since he was seventeen years old. Seventeen years old!” he shook his head and clapped Issachar on the leg while the young man, now clearly in his early twenties, blushed and smiled. “but already a veteran!”

“I could strip my sleeves and show my scars, friends,” said Issachar solemnly, “And show you the results of brawls in the streets with these fascists. We’ve worked hard to create a militia that has been united under our leadership, from Socialists of all stripes who have come to see that the CPGR is the leadership they need. The fascists mirror themselves on the Kampfenlanders for certain, and are sucking up to the Pahath-Moab government. Oh make no mistake—they are tough enough; they control the Tabernacle District of the city and some rural towns as well where they train and keep supplies. They have access to the media.”

“So you see, they are opponents, but they are only the lickspittles of the national interim government,” explained Macro. “It is them that I’m concerned about as far as overt enemies go—but about the Socialists, the Intellectual Party and…yes…the Feminist Collective Party that concern me within. They want a provincial referendum to determine whether or not we should be independent. I think that we need more than that, I think that that is a waste of our energy. But I wonder what you outsiders think?”

==++==++==

"Gloria Reglis should be independent and General Moab stripped of power and sent back to New Edom" Varlaam said as he adjusted the shirt he was wearing before continuing. The other men stayed silent as they listened to the conversation or looked out of the window at the scenery.

"National referendum.." Kazimir said shaking his head. "Referendums on independence do not solve a damn thing" he added as he crossed his arms over his chest as Varlaam nodded in agreement.

"Hopefully we can come up with a solution to quell the fascists and make Gloria Reglis a independent nation" Varlaam added as the ride continued. The Rastovian delegation was hopefull that the meeting overall would go well and that a plan could be formed on how to fight the current situation. Varlaam's superiors in the Central Committee would be pleased when he returned home.

by **New Edom** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 8:10 pm

Sixington: Communists

“It’s General Pahath-Moab,” said Macro to Varlaam. “He has a hyphenated name. During the 2nd Civil War he took over the country while the Monarchists and the Free Congress were fighting. And when this protectorate was invaded by Nova Samnium he was among the National commanders who fought to defend against the invasion. He’s brave, smart, resourceful and ruthless, and a proper bastard, the kind who always seems to come up smelling like a rose. So we want to be careful: no hint that there’s going to be some foreign invasion to ‘liberate’ the country. It has to be the people of the protectorate or no dice.”

“There are enough fools here who think he’s their hero,” Issachar explained. “We have to take that seriously. At the same time they’re hungry and desperate for change. On the mainland people have the choice of being slaves to the state or to big money. We only managed to form a government with a coalition—we need to gather more strength. The support of our comrades abroad will be invaluable.”

They were now driving into the downtown area, more shops but smaller, occupying blocks together, some of them had been boarded over with newly printed or painted signs (neatly stenciled) reading such things as “Downtown Students Bakery Collective” or “97th Growers Co-Op”. “You can see some things are changing,” said Issachar proudly, “But there’s still a lot of work to do. Our Party Headquartes is coming up soon…” in the financial district, there was a building rather like a granide polished Grecian temple, which had a large banner strung over the entrance between two tall columns which read “DEATH TO TYRANTS’ while above that read COMMUNIST PARTY OF GLORIA REGIS.

The men were led into an office area past the busy outer area and were invited to sit down, offered tea or carbonated water to drink. “Water in the city is a little…risky, the fascists deliberately damaged the water plant and it’s still not working right,” cautioned Macro.”The swine! Everyone’s boiling their water. Well sit down, Comrades, and do you have further questions or shall we get right to the point?”

by **Rastovia** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 8:51 pm

Sixington, Outside Communist Party Building

The SUV had finally pulled up outside the Communist Party building where their Headquarters were situated. When they exited the vehicle the men took a moment to look at their surroundings and stretch out a little from what seemed to be a long ride. Several signs were seen that were similar to Rastovia, They followed the men into the office area where they sat down together and were ready to get under way.

"I think it be crucial we get to the point. " Varlaam said as he waited for whatever opening statements Marco and Issachar had for them as the meeting began. "Is there any alcohol by any chance?" Kazimir asked politely as he looked about. Kazimir was a alcoholic and the Party had several times reviewed his case to see if he should be ex-communicated for his alcoholicism or stay. Varlaam and the others did nothing but gave him a concern look or two but ignored it, although they would happy to have a glass or whatever alcohol was made here and not the poisoned water that had to be boiled.

by **New Edom** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 9:17 pm

Communist Party Headquarters

"Alcohol? We have some I think..." Macro got up, opened the door and bawled out, "Hey, Lentullus! Get a bottle of vodka will you?" he turned and said, "My apologies, though I assure you, the bottled water is distilled, perfectly fine. I drink it every day, don't I Issachar?"

"You do, Comrade Macro."

Lentullus arrived with a half filled square bottle of Vodka marked "117th People's Alcohol Distillery: Vodka Type 5", and poured some into tumblers he had in a cupboard. "There we go. Well, your health comrades!" he drank deep and then plunked his glass down and looked from one man to the other.

"Well, you spoke of getting to the point. Let's get to it then." he leaned back in his chair, watching them with large bright eyes.

by **The Shrailleeni Empire** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 9:30 pm

Bountiful Park
Sixington, Gloria Regis

Amid the sea of faces at Bountiful Park, there were still a few darker of skin and more emerald of eye. The Shrailleeni had first entered the islands during the lockdown that had occurred after the infamous massacre, as aid workers and distributers. In the aftermath of that event most of the Mother Empress's Children had returned home to their own islands, content that their business was finished. But there were some, a few dozen perhaps, who had elected to remain in Gloria Regis after the tensions had subsided.

With the Empire still channelling tons of food, water, and basic medicine into Bara the presence of more Shrailleeni in the country seemed innocuous on paper. But those who remained in Sixington were not only there to distribute aid. They were there because, for one reason or another, they had ties with the Feminist Collective Party, and the Empire was willing to allow them to foster those ties. And now that communication with the Home Islands was…slow…there was more reason than ever for these Shrailleeni, mainly women, some men, to become attached to the struggle of their Gloria Regian Sisters.

The most prominent of these Shrailleeni were Princess Vasane Resyanna fe Shrailleen and the Lady Allene Triaka. The two of them stood near the front of the crowd, watching Livia Barberina raptly, Vasane with her quiet and inquisitive poise and Allene cheering and singing right along with the Edomites. They were certainly both very different women, one the youngest daughter of the third-removed Imperial line and the other a fisherwoman's daughter from a small village on the Blue Sea. But both of them had found friendship under a common cause, a belief in Feminism that did not quite align with Shrailleeni traditions.

"...To a land where the children are free
And you and me are free to be
And you and me are free to be
And you and me are free to be you and me!"

Allene laughed loudly and clapped her hands together, grinning widely at Vasane. When she saw the tiny smile that the royal permitted herself, she just laughed again and pushed her on the shoulder playfully.

"Oh come on," she said in fluent Sixington English, "even you have to admit that song was catchy."

"I certainly enjoyed the symbolism, and the imagery was innovative of prosperity and peace. It was appropriate."

"Yeah? Well what about actually singing it? You know, 'come along, take my hand, sing a song?'"

Vasane shot her a warning look.

"You know that I do not sing."

"I heard you sing last week!"

"That was in the traditional verse of the 5th century poets."

Allene almost retorted once again, but Livia had begun to speak again, so she settled for another quick jab on the shoulder. Vasane brushed her off with an annoyed sound, but she too was more interested in what the Deputy Premier had to say. The two listened again, one in silence and the other with cheering. Allene growled right along with everyone else when the shootings were mentioned. Sometimes, Vasane thought that her Sister identified with the people here because they were fishers as well. She certainly had a strong attachment to the politics here. Not that Vasane herself did not, but she at least had her proper upbringing. Sometimes she worried that the Edomites were barbarizing Allene.

"Come on!" Allene said after Livia had finished speaking, taking Vasane by the hand. "Livia said that she might have time to meet with us after her speech! We have to tell her the news! And we should at least say hi."

"It is more of an idea than actual news…" Vasane protested meekly, but she allowed herself to be led by the hand through the crowd of people listening to the next song by the Fishermen's Friends toward the spot where they usually met Livia.

by **Rastovia** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 9:37 pm

Drinks were served and everything got better. Varlaam and the rest of his associates cheered and drank from their glasses as it was time to begin. Varlaam nodded as they looked at each other and he begun to speak. "Well, Hours ago a National Congress meeting had concluded which had confirmed that we from the People's Democratic Republic of Rastovia would support the Communist party here." he begun and continued. " The fascists are our main concern and that the current dictator could if he so wanted to purge the country of his opposition" he said.

"We are here to speak to you about ways we could support the party and help it climb to the top of the political chain in Gloria Reglis. It wont be easy, these fascists are determined to keep there power and die for it. The Communist Party of Rastovia is prepared to help full time financially for any rallies or campaigns that would help our chances. " Varlaam explained and then let Anatoliy talk about what could be offered in the means of unofficial military action.

"Now as I understand it, all the political parties hold militias. Now if things get out of control and fighting erupts in the city or the dictator decides to get rid of us all. Committee of State Security agents can infiltrate the country and provide military training to the socialist militias. We do not want to give conventional military intervention because that would start a whole other situation. We would rather do things unconventionally and participate in guerilla warfare and sabotage of our enemies." Anatoliy finished and nodded as Varlaam leaned forward and looked at his hosts.

"What do you think?" he asked as he waited for an answer, he expected issues to be addressed and he was ready to modify and compromise with his hosts and hopefully still get something out of it.

by **New Edom** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 10:14 pm

Bountiful Park

A Hard Rain’s A Gonna Fall was the next set, playing as the Shrailleeni women moved through the crowd. They got friendly glances; they were considered comrades and friends in this crowd, people who had come bringing not only peaceful gifts but solidarity.

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
And where have you been my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Curiously, most ordinary people in Sixington didn’t see the Shrailleeni Empire as an autocratic distant empire, but as a place where a benevolent empress guided wisely and people were at peace. The more well traveled, well read or researched knew better, but they were still warm to their visitors.

These gatherings in Bountfiful Park were, as a matter of principle, free of capitalism. There were no paid organizers; people volunteered and made sure no one lacked for anything. Participants were expected to contribute money, labor, and/or material. All labor was voluntary and never formally compensated. The primary principle was that necessities should be freely shared, while luxuries could be traded. A market area was set up on adjacent streets for this trade. A strong principle was that basic necessities of life should never be held over the people’s heads.
There was a collective of medical health professionals who looked after health and wellness and take responsibility for medical emergencies and sanitation of those who attended the rallies. It was an all volunteer, non-hierarchical group encompassing both mainstream, conventional medicine and alternative medicine, such as naturopathic healing modalities. It was common to find physicians working with herbalists, EMTs helping massage therapists and naturopaths coordinating with Registered Nurses on patient care.

Oh, what did you see, my blue eyed son?
And what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin'
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin'
I saw a white ladder all covered with water
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder that roared out a warnin'
I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin'
I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin'
I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin'
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

People here and there held up signs—held up banners and placards indicating things such as “REMEMBER THE STREET OF TEARS”, ‘THE 2000 LIVE ON IN OUR HEARTS’, ‘NEVER FORGET THE 2000 SLAUGHTERED!’

On the street level still, at least, the Communists and Feminist Collectivists stood in solidarity, even having drawn in younger Lecks and Socialists. It was easy to forget, in the Park, they were not everyone, merely a very vocal group—perhaps 33% of the population while most of the people were as people were most everywhere, quiet and keeping their heads down.

Oh, what did you meet my blue-eyed son ?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded in hatred
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

In the tent, Livia Barberina turned to welcome them, just as her press officer was leaving. “My dear friends…” she offered them a double hand clasp each warmly, and said, with evident pleasure, “I hope you enjoyed the concert—do you know that while I am rallying the people about the referendum I’m planning that that cock weasel Macro is not so secretly meeting with foreign communist leaders? So much for solidarity! Well? What do you think?”

And what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
And what'll you do now my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin'
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest
Where the people are a many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
And the executioner's face is always well hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I'll tell and speak it and think it and breathe it
And reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it
And I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin'
But I'll know my song well before I start singing
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

by **Spring Haven** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 10:18 pm

The queen sits quietly listening to the arguments of the men in parliament, while reading the dossier of the situation of Gloria.
"We must back the Communists! It is the only way that Gloria Regis will have a good and just government, where all are equal!" shouts a representative.
"But gentlemen! It is our divine duty to aid our brethren in the Democratic Socialist party; In all but a few situations people of our religion have been persecuted to damn near extinction, because of Communism! I say we should support the Democratic Socialists not only because of the opportunities of helping a possible christian naiton; but also because it is the just and moral thing to do! In 40 years when we look back upon this meeting, are we going to say 'Yeah, I messed up, I should've voted Democratic Socialist' or will you say 'I am so relieved that I chose that Democratic Socialist party over the commies!'." The representative bows to the queen before sitting back down.
The Speaker of the House of Parliament stands and addresses all of the representatives, "Ladies and Gentlemen of Parliament, we have heard fantastic argument for all sides and have come to the conclusion that it is now a vote between the Democratic Socialist Party and the Communist Party. Before the vote however, since this is the queens honor we are lending, perhaps a few words from her would be most appropriate." he looks towards the queen, motioning to her to say a few words.

The queen rises from her chair, and takes a deep breath before speaking, "My loyal servants, I see before me in this dossier a country trying to be born. It is a coup de'tat of the new generation throwing off the oppressive dictatorship of the old ways. All of these parties are in the end filled with the same people, which are; good, liberty loving, and majestic human beings. However in the end, Communists do usually try to extinguish the divine flame of God from this world, one candle at a time. So I am in support of the Democrat Socialists; it is my belief that we should spare no expense, in our race to ensure their victory. Troops, money, ships, planes, propaganda...what ever, they need let it be so." the queen as some applause sound. She then exits, so that parliament may vote without her presence.

The Speaker stands once more, and gives thanks to the queen before addressing the representatives. "Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard our fair queens thoughts on the subject matter. Now please submit your votes from you tablets, the results will be anounced once all the votes are in." The speaker sits down and submits his own vote. After about 30 minutes has passed he stands again and smiles broadly, "Representatives of the Spring Haven National Parliament, the votes are in, and after adding them up, the official stance of Spring Haven on the Independence Movement of Gloria Regis, is in favor of the Democratic Socialists." Thunderous applause of heard throughout the house, and a communique is transmitted to the office of the Foreign Affairs Minister for forwarding to the Democratic Party of Gloria Regis.

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE OF THE MINSTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS OF SPRING HAVEN

Code: Select all: Dear Ladies and Gentlemen of the Democratic Socialist party of Gloria Regis, Your independence movement has caught the attention and support of Her royal majesties' parliament. They have authorized 10 zero interest loans of up to 50 billion anons per loan; They also would like to extend the offer of para military training to any militia that may be in service to your cause. As well as Spring Haven Intelligence agents who are willing to help with anything and everything. Media coverage of your movement will be covered by our national journal. Sincerly, The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Rebecca Atherton

by **New Edom** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 10:39 pm

Communist Party HQ, Sixington

Macro poured everyone a little more and nodded as they spoke one by one. "Financial help would be welcome, as would assistance in rallies. The Feminists...ah...you know how it is. They focus on a part of marxism! But they miss the rest! It’s incomplete! It is not right that they should focus only on such things as the necessary change from the bourgeois family to that of a communist state, or on the equal rights of women. But they are very successful, the Feminist Collective, in their rallies in Bountiful Park. And I had tried to persuade Comrade Smith that we needed to find more dynamic ways of gaining our independence from New Edom, but he has been so admiring of Livia Barberina—I do not wish to disparage a comrade who has done so much, but he is tired, and he is…well…a man,” he said with a broad wink at them.

“They’re comrades,” said Issachar shortly, tired of this game. “But we want to change the agenda. I don’t care how much they rally for women’s rights, and for defining men’s roles in the patriarchy as toxic to men and all that stuff. But I want something effective. And I am glad for my part to hear of you saying that you want to avoid large scale military involvement—that would only backfire. Your backup plan…I think that’s acceptable.”

Macro nodded thoughtfully. “Though you should know that Pahath-Moab defeated the Anarchist insurgency on the mainland. What is to say that any such attempt we did here would not fare the same way?”

“We wouldn’t make their stupid mistakes,” responded Issachar. “They tried using terror tactics against the people. And that’s foolish—right?”

by **The Shrailleeni Empire** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 10:47 pm

Bountiful Park

"Oh yeah, we heard. I think that Marco would bend over for any foreigner with a Manifesto and a rifle," Allene asserted with a vulgarity in her gesture that was almost enough to make her companion blush through her calm and collected exterior.

"I know we've talked about this before, but seriously, I don't think that Marco is going to sit around and wait for a referendum. The Communists want themselves to win, not Gloria Regis, and they are sure as hell willing to arm themselves. Remember all those "aid crates" that came down during the crisis?"

Vasane listened impassively, both to her companion's words and to the music outside. She certainly wouldn't have put it that way, but she did agree on principle. Everyone who had been here for longer than a week knew that foreign Communists always loved to take an interest in their Gloria Regian "comrades." The Shrailleeni as a society had never really liked Marxism as an idea, and the vast majority of them found it at best redundant and at worst dangerously unstable. These two were no exception to that rule.

"I have to agree with my Sister," Vasane continued politely when Allene had finished, "although I think that she speaks with a bit of impulsiveness. What you are doing is the right course, that I am certain of. A referendum will prove what we have always known: that Gloria Regis is quite apart from the other Allied States both geographically, and culturally. The question is, with Marco meeting with foreigners, is that referendum in any jeopardy?"

"Yeah, and what does that mean for solidarity?" Allene echoed, crossing her arms as she thought about it. "I still don't trust him."

"Yes, you have made that quite apparent," Vasane corrected softly, with a apologetic look at Livia.

"And you, Sister Livia? What is your thinking on this matter?"

by **Rastovia** » Sun Jan 05, 2014 10:56 pm

Varlaam nodded his head as he took a sip of his alcoholic beverage. The other associates of his did the same and also agreed with what the man said."We are of the communist cause, comrade. Not ravaging anarchists who massacre people they could be getting on their side." he said as he continued to listen and took more sips of his alcohol.

"Whatever mistakes these anarchists made will not be repeated if we must resort to violence. Unlike these anarchists we are part of the Rastovian People's Liberation Army and have actual military training and have done our fair share of combat." Anatoily explained and then continued.

"If violence was to come , the armed forces will find a way to bring weapons into Gloria Reglis as so to support your cause." He said as he took a swig of his glass and Varlaam took over.

"We will do whatever it takes that is in-direct and not giving us too much spotlight by the regime and foreign nations elsewhere" he added as he also took a swig of his glass. He was positive about how this meeting was going to go and that support would soon be given to the party and to help the nation overall.

by **New Edom** » Mon Jan 06, 2014 11:45 am

Bountiful Park

Livia sat down cross legged on a cushion. She was one of those people who was limber and in excellent shape even in middle age, her both lithe and supple. “Macro, Macro Macro. He’s in a position to make mischief; he’s not actually a member of the cabinet, he’s a pure political party hack, so he can go around doing within reason whatever he wants. He doesn’t even have to really talk about solidarity, because he’s not officially part of the government. So it becomes an ideological dispute. I think that I need to start talking to actual Communist members of the government. Nicholas Bevin might be a good person to talk to.”

Nicholas Bevin came, like most Gloria Regian communists, from humble origins, and had been the son of a cannery production lead hand, had had to work hard during his early schooling; he had later become a union leader in the Fisheries Brotherhood (which later just become the Fisheries Collective when women began joining the work force in greater numbers). He was currently the protectorate’s Minister of Commerce, and was busy trying to slice through all the corruption and red tape the Lecks had left behind them.

“I think what we need to do,” Livia said thoughtfully, “Is remind him that he is the senior member of the Communist Party in practice, not Macro. We need him to understand that Macro is as much a threat to him as he is to us. Now as to you my friends,” she took each of their hands affectionately, “I need you to get me an article, not written by someone from here, that raises awareness in the other women led nations of the world and other nations that support feminism! It must be understood that liberation for women is liberation for everyone!” her eyes were compelling, eager, looking warmly at both of them. “Can you do that for me? Raise us more support? The more support from New Edom’s trading partners for this, the more that Pahath-Moab will have to distance himself from any quarrel with us and will have to cave.”

She looked thoughtful a moment. “Do you know what I think of when I think of him? Orphans. Did you know that he is an orphan? So many are like him—and the Queen! Lost parents, lost the legacy of age and of human continuity. That’s how I see New Edom—a nation of blood stained orphans. This movement has to be about peaceful determination to not cooperate with the violent mainland, and to go our own way in friendship.”

by **New Edom** » Mon Jan 06, 2014 11:51 am

Communist Party Headquarters

“I think we need action,” said Macro. “Which is why I need, more than weapons—though they would be most welcome—would be for you, my friends, to help organize a massive solidarity gesture from other communist nations of the world, rally them to our cause. We intend to boycott all products from capitalist nations. That is what my Party will do, yes!”

This was news to Issachar, but he kept his mouth shut. Macro was like this—he was like some kind of atheist prophet, sometimes, but it was rarely genuinely spontaneous; usually he had a plan.

Macro got up as though his energy could not be contained. “A boycott, a reverse embargo! And instead of capitalist goods, we receive the international people’s goods in trade, in genuine ethical trade, from people who are not starved and forced into production but who own the production themselves. .It will send the sharpest message to the National Government that we do not need them and will operate fine without them. In short—we act as though we already are independent. Then the follow up: rather than a referendum, we gather people in their thousands in the streets, shouting out that we are free, and those nations which have supported us economically recognize us as an independent country. But we will need support and a lot of it in the economic and diplomatic spheres. This will sweep our country, and we will invite the Feminists to join the Party and stand with us in solidarity--or be pushed aside if they cannot join in this moment of history. Comrades: is it possible that you can help organize this?”

by **Rastovia** » Mon Jan 06, 2014 12:26 pm

Varlaam looked at his associates and thought about it for a moment. Rastovia had yet to get into the diplomatic scene and associate itself with other communist nations. Trying to gather allies would be tough and it would just be easier to gather resources from Rastovia to commit a similar action. "Well Deputy Premier, I regret to inform you Rastovia has not done anything outside of it's own borders. This meeting right now is our first diplomatic gesture to foreign nations." Varlaam explained as he continued. Marco did have a fiery passion for his goals and his belief of communism but what he was asking for could not be given.

"I'd want to stick with what we have on the table now, in-direct action. We can always try and coordinate a rally through where ever people go to for fun and see if we can gain support that way." Varlaam said and waited for a response.

by **New Edom** » Mon Jan 06, 2014 2:42 pm

Communist Party HQ

Macro stared at them. "A rally." He looked at Issachar. "A rally, he says. Comrades, I'm going to be really bluntly honest with you. There are rallies almost every week by the Feminist Collective, and they are very entertaining as well as captivating and are capturing the imagination of the people. They are increasing their supporters. Unless you have some brilliant stuff to suggest then we need to do something real.

"There are a number of international communist and socialist organizations. Surely you can contact them! One of them is I believe predominantly led by the nation of Quirina. Contact them, find out more about their organization, but comrades, understand this:" his look blazed fire at them. "I cannot be seen to be rallying such support or it will make me look bad on several counts. I hope you understand this."

He began to count off on his fingers. "If I go cap in hand, I look weak. If I start to rally foreign support I will be seen to be openly undermining the solidarity between the Communist Party and the Feminist Collective, and openly going against the referendum Livia Barberina is planning, and also undermining the government leaders such as Comrade Bevin, our Minister of Commerce. It must be that we have the obvious and unanimous support of the Internationale. Do we understand each other?"

by **New Edom** » Mon Jan 06, 2014 2:44 pm

Plato and Sappho University, Sixington, Gloria Regis

In Room 138, Professor Constanza Delmar was lecturing on Economics. It was a big classroom with perhaps 40 students, as it was a class which carried a lot of credits. Many of the students were in protest against the Compulsory Nudity Act dressed like ordinary college kids, in fact a bit on the grungy side. Sweatshirts, jeans, sneakers, boots. Some shorts. Some in hippy clothes. However no one was protesting more than the professor and her followers.

The professor was totally naked, her hairless body pale and looking almost blue in the pallor of the fluorescent light over her. It was known that she had a lack of skin pigment (rare in a Cornellian) which made it hard for her to tan, and that consequently she had to wear special lotions to avoid burning and avoided direct sun. No one made vampire jokes for long as she was known for having no sense of humor and in addition to her condition she had decided to keep her body completely smooth in protest of the CNA. Her arms and legs were lightly but noticeably muscled; her belly concave and firm, her head was finely shaped and oddly elegant in spite of lacking any hair including eyebrows. She received less vampire jokes, more alien jokes, but she never took umbrage nor laughed at them.

Her followers did much the same, looking less pallid in most cases though; most of them looked almost like unfinished dolls with their tanned (fair or olive mostly but here and there among them very dark olive skinned) bodies, their bare arms and legs, groins all hairless, and all of them avoiding frivolities, unnecessary amounts of spices in their foods, concerned with good health, clean living, avoiding of luxuries and devotion to quiet and peaceful life.

“I would like to quote from one of the greatest works of English literature in closing, whose author, Mr. Edward Bellamy, echoes my own thoughts—or perhaps more accurately my thoughts echo his when he writes: "Now the entire field of productive and constructive industry is divided into ten great departments, each representing a group of allied industries, each particular industry being in turn represented by a subordinate bureau, which has a complete record of the plant and force under its control, of the present product, and means of increasing it. The estimates of the distributive department, after adoption by the administration, are sent as mandates to the ten great departments, which allot them to the subordinate bureaus representing the particular industries, and these set the men at work. Each bureau is responsible for the task given it, and this responsibility is enforced by departmental oversight and that of the administration; nor does the distributive department accept the product without its own inspection; while even if in the hands of the consumer an article turns out unfit, the system enables the fault to be traced back to the original workman. The production of the commodities for actual public consumption does not, of course, require by any means all the national force of workers. After the necessary contingents have been detailed for the various industries, the amount of labor left for other employment is expended in creating fixed capital, such as buildings, machinery, engineering works, and so forth." ” she looked up from her podium and nodded “I believe it is almost time to close our class for today, but I would like to add that I believe this to be fully in keeping with Christian principles. The Book of Acts Church is described as being one in which no one lacked for anything. Thank you.”

As the class broke up, she gathered her notes. A young man wearing slacks and a shirt, his head shaven in mourning for loss of democracy in the country but otherwise preferring to wear clothing in defiance, said, “Professor, have you had a chance to look over that letter from Spring Haven?”
“I have. I am not certain how to reply. For one thing it is very inaccurate, I do not at this time believe independence is the right way to go.”

Peter Meler was a junior instructor, one of her assistants, and a devoted follower, and it always grieved him that no one really knew Constanza. If they did they would know what a sacrifice it was for her to appear like this in public. She was a kind, gentle sort of person, and had a private despair at politics in the province, a compassion he found admirable, a private life he found exemplary, and he felt that it was sadly typical that at this historic moment the best person was not in the forefront. “Professor, I thought that was because you felt that the other parties don’t have what it takes to lead our country—Gloria Regis that is—to independence”

“That’s true, Peter, I think that they lack a comprehensive plan for economic reform, it’s all ideology and wind,” said Constanza briskly, putting her papers and her laptop into her book bag. “What can I do about it though? They want to offer me a huge amount of money, enough to really start a whole country from, and yet we barely have 300 members. It’s absurd. What would I do with it? Our party doesn’t even really have a militia—we have enough people who served in the police, paramedics or the military to protect us when we speak in public, that’s about it.” She began to walk out of the lecture hall, her broad rough feet as tough as most people’s sandals.
“Well…I did have one idea.” Peter said, catching up with her. “What about a movie?”

“A movie?” she stopped and stared at him. “What kind of movie? A movie? Really?”

“Yes, a movie, a really good movie, about the history of Gloria Regian socialism, about Gloria Regian independence, that would capture people’s imaginations and make them think we need independence. Hell, it’s worked before, it’s amazing what a good film can bring people together around.” Peter enthused. “Why not? I mean they’re offering us the money…”

“Peter.” Constanza said, holding his gaze with her own firmly. “I am the leader of a struggling movement, the only movement that stands for genuine economic and social reform in a meaningful way that recognizes psychology, Christianity and civic virtue, and you wish to propose that I make a motion picture?” she shook her head and began to walk on. “I have a department meeting, and then we’re meeting to discuss the Growers’ Collective merger with the—“

“Professor! Look, why not agree just to meet with the Spring Haven government, see what they have to say?” Peter pleaded. “What could it hurt?”

Constanza sighed, turned and said, “Very well Write me out a letter, and I’ll sign it. But just a meeting. That’s it. And I think it only fair that there should then be a meeting of the Party to discuss what our policy should be. I am really going to be late if I do not go immediately.”

“Letter will be on your desk after lunch!” called Peter after her.

THE MINSTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS OF SPRING HAVEN
From the
CHRISTIAN DEMOCRATIC SOCIALIST UNION PARTY

Dear Minister,
Thank you very much for your kind letter. I would like to meet with representatives of your government to discuss the support you have mentioned. I would suggest that military support is something I would prefer not to consider at this time. I am not planning a violent revolution, but rather the persuasion of the values which I believe would best govern Gloria Regis. At the moment certain demagogues and political extremists have seized the public’s admiration, but I am confident that this will pass in favour of well reasoned policies, with the possible help of altruistic foreign nations such as yours.

Sincerely,
Constanza Delmar
Professor of Economics
Senator of the Protectoral Legislature
Party Chairperson, CDSUP

by **Rastovia** » Mon Jan 06, 2014 2:55 pm

Varlaam sighed and rubbed his fingers through his hair looking at the table. Getting relations established with other organizations of their cause would take to much time, and he didn't believe they had enough time to do this. "Listen, it can't be done. Im sorry deputy premier but trying to gather other comrades from different international organizations would take too much time. Time we don't have." He explained as he looked at his other associates if they wanted to say anything.

"You have our complete financial backing and arms. If a rally wont work and trying to gather comrades of other organizations would take to much time. We need to think of something else." Kazimir spoke up as he nodded his head and waited for a response and to see if they're were any other ideas Marcus had.

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