Taraskovyan Imperial Archives: Bits and Pieces [Restricted]

[Tarasovka]

OOC: Important Information

The present thread will be continuation of the long dead previous "nation maintenance thread" as linked here: viewtopic.php?f=4&t=1179

This shall be my attempt to come back to posting after several years of hiatus. And indeed have I been inactive.

This thread shall be used for all sorts of posts describing various important and not important events and happenings with the Taraskovyan Empire. The thread is intended primarily as In Character.Posting is open to nations historically friendly to the Taraskovyan Empire and with whom the Empire has interacted in the past. Given my hiatus, such nations should be somewhat few for now.

In case of doubt, TGram.

If you're not sure to post or not to post, maybe if you have an idea on how to participate, or use anything as a setting, just poke me via TGram.

Should anything here veer off into RP of its own, this will be split off into a separate thread as necessary.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

News and Random Events

Feed 1

Standalone Stories

Of the New Heart of Diplomacy
Of Archery and Adroitness
Of Matters Defensive

Of the Phantoms of the Future

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

Of Rites Old and Never Forgotten

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

Of the Armata de Strigoi

Part 1

Of the Poisoned Rose of Praksa

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Of the Watchers in the Deep

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Of the Army and its Particularities

Part 1
Part 2

Of Politics and Shenanigans

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

Of Things Far Out, Shysh Far Out

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

[Tarasovka]

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Of the New Heart of Diplomacy

Amal, Duchy and Fiefdom of Amalor, United Kingdom of Dakathia and Cardinia, Taraskovyan Empire

The Amalorian Life Guards, clad into their intricate armour inspired by designs from millenia ago, snapped to attention, drawing their swords in a salute as His Most August Majesty the Vasilevs of all Taraskovya made his way along a row of his life guards. He was accompanied by his lovely wife the Vasilessa of all Taraskovya, his Foreign Affairs Minister, the Minister's wife and a host of other dignitaries and personalities of importance as the party made its way slowly towards the entrance of a majestic palace complex.

That palace complex, reminiscent of the best tastes of classic imperial syle, was none the less completely modern and newly built upon an area that no so long ago used to house hundreds of meters tall massive residential structures, one of the many that used to comprise the so-called "Amal's outher ring", a heavily urbanised and overpopulated area which made Amal into a mega-city. Yet, no more. The past decade in the Empire signalled what many called an "Age of Boredom", with nothing happening internally or externally to upset the established order, allowing the Empire to continue on its path of evolution, integration, and also restructuring.

A campaign to remove the so-called "outer rings" of the several Earth-borne mega-cities of the Empire was one such restructuring project. A sturdy program to buyback real estate, property and land rights.Some were easier to restructure, such as Amal's. Amal, located as it was on flat land on the shores of the Sea of a Million Tears, the Dakathian Spine now clearly visible far on the horizon, a view once obscured by tall sturdy pillars intertwined with infrastructural and transportation layers. The old city of Amal, nestled as it was on the hills by the river Luwenna as it fell into the Sea of a Million Tears, the historic buildings and ruined spires attesting to their old Amalori heritage, erased eons ago by the ruthless Tarathians as they took the land over. Then came the Tarathian structures as they lorded over the city for countless millennia, before technological progress and intermingling with humans led to an onion-layered city shape recounting endless eons of history and cultural evolution.

This sturdy program to dismantle the outer rings was combined with a separate program to encourage settlement in the off-world Realms, Dominions and colonial possessions, so as to shift the demographic weight away from the Earth-based core of the Taraskovyan Empire and onward towards the stars. The initiative, albeit extremely cost intensive, yielded excellent results as close to a billion Taraskovyans reinforced the Empire among the stars.

The two combined initiatives breathed fresh air into Amal. The "outer ring" was dismantled bit by bit until it yet again became land for less view-obstructing structures or for nature to take back into its domain, providing the population with forests and parks to enjoy. The business district was restructured with elegant skyscrapers of technological wonder that improved the landscape, rather than pollute it with bulky constructs. And some of the surface would be used for different purpoes.

For in this, a third internal program was to be implemented. Indeed, over the years, the limited geographic confines of Vigvar posed two dilemmas in front of the authorities. Squeezed as the city was on a cliff plateau hugged tightly against tall mountains and valleys on the one side, and the Uidath Bay on the other side, it would either need to be built up, or some of the facilities moved out of the city. Vigvar's Outer Ring, the mega-city spreading through the once scenic vales and valleys around the city, was a major effort that was still going to restructure it, dismantle the tall pillars and assorted infrastructure and return the valleys to more scenic states.

And so the decision was taken to move some arms of Imperial government to other important cities throughout the Earth core of the Empire. Such as Amal, a historic city of much beauty, splendour, magnificent history, yet so much underlooked as the historically much younger Vigvar took the spotlight. The glorious Amal would come to house the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and its numerous employees, abandoning the cramped confines of the structures in Vigvar to finally breathe with freedom in its dedicated grounds in Amal. For it was truly a feat of technology and architecture, mixing of very traditionally old with knife edge technological new.

And such a grandiose occasion that was the moving of the nation's diplomatic capital to the city of Amal required no less than the presence of Their Most August Majesties, the rulers of Taraskovya to bless the newly restructured Foreign Affairs Ministry into working with even greater efficiency into promoting Taraskovyan interests.

As well it would from now on come to be that foreign Embassies would be accredited and settled in full priority in Amal, as per the many procedures and regulations proper to the Taraskovyan Empire and her bilateral and multilateral relations. Vigvar, full as it was and with the authorities wanting to move things out rather than get stuff in, would no longer host new embassy grounds and facilities.

And what of Vigvar? Vigvar remained the Imperial Capital, the seat of His Most August Majesty and those nations which Taraskovya called friend or ally, as well as those that shared relations with Taraskovya before the Foreign Ministry's move to Amal, would retain their embassy grounds within Vigvar, maybe giving them a hint of privilege when compared to the newer relations. Or was it such privilege, for their diplomats would have to travel several hours to Amal for formal events to be hosted at the Foreign Affairs Ministry? But then again, it was much closer to the Vailevs and as such within immediate reach of the Northwind Palace. And so, more prestige was to be drawn from this.

Well, then, friends and allies would be free to decide whether they wished their Embassies to remain in Vigvar and close as they were to His Most August Majesty the Vasilevs, or maybe find even more spacious grounds in Amal and move there. After all, this was the main privilege of friends and allies: be allowed to choose.

From here on, all newcomers, be they friends or just partners, would be most welcome to the beautiful city of Amal, the new diplomatic heart of Taraskovya.

[Tarasovka]

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Of the Poison Rose of Praksa
1

Skies above Praksa, Dominion of Praksa-Prima-et-Secunda, Taraskovyan Empire

Praksa, a closed military world, shielded from the rest of the universe through impressive military presence (including not less than one Independent Operational Fleet at any time), with strict search and scan of all incoming and outgoing vessels, and with only traffic authorised by the military for specific resupply missions being allowed to the surface. All vessels and persons heading to the planet being decontaminated, just as is everything leaving the planet. Only specific landing areas are designated and vessels coming on landing missions head for a specific pad. Vessels refusing to abide by orders or warnings are destroyed. Vessels steering off course are destroyed. Vessels not submitting to imperial orders are destroyed. Anything not submitting to the local TNDF assets is destroyed. After all, it's a closed military area.

This kind of paranoid security was easily explained, for Praksa was home to the very cute looking sapient furry mammals, affectionately referred to as "hambils", known to the rest of the universe as simply Praksans. And these cute creatures were maybe among the most dangerous vectors of propagation of all sorts of viral and bacterial diseases imaginable, their immune systems actually making the creatures endless banks of disease which was constantly absorbed, recycled and modified to make no harm to the creatures themselves, yet quite dangerous to any other lifeform. Current scientific research showed that the Praksans were created specifically for this purpose by another sapient race which inhabited Praksa before, of which there were only now ruins left across the planet. As semi-artificial creations, the hambils were treated as a potential "weapons system" by the Empire.

And whilst Praksan lifeforms, the few there were, mostly adapted to dealing with the ever pervasive Praksan hambils which expanded under the surface of the arid Praksan deserts, all extra-planetary lifeforms were at risk. Including humans. And while Praksans were sapient, technologically evolved to a theoretical bronze age level, and capable of conducting diplomacy and warfare between their own polities, they were still dangerous to humans. In the very first days of Praksa's discovery and exploration, a few soddy scientists went out without proper protective gear, were attacked and bitten by some surface dwelling Praksans fearing for their lives and died. They did not just die, they put under quarantine an entire TNDF hospital ship, causing further severe cases and fatalities.

Which was why Taraskovyan imperial settlement on Praksa was limited to some far flung islands without a trace of Praksans on them (and even then, these were pretty much military forts and large strategic TNDF ground bases, rather than civilian settlements). And why the planet was under strict embargo and quarantine.

This did not mean, however, that the Empire did not deal or interact with the Praksans. It did, and extensively. All known Praksan major polities were infeodated to the Taraskovyan Empire, and the imperial researches found a way to "disarm" some of the Praksans that would be allowed off-world. Or disinfect, render them safe for the environments all around them. After all, some very well known Praksans were already out there in the universe, such as the Taraskovyan ambassador to the Triumvirate of Yut, and some others who were mostly all from the reigning family of the Kingdom of Karaboumerr, one of the main, largest and strongest nations on Praksa, as well as the main interlocutor of the Taraskovyan Empire on the surface of the planet. Such "disarmed" Praksans were completely safe to travel abroad, yet all were issued with a "personal multi-purpose assistant" by the Empire, a robotic transportation platform. On the first view, the platform allowed the small creatures to get by in the world of humans. But another side was that the PMPA's were both collecting data as part of a social experiment conducted by the Empire, as well as would be able to dispose of their charges should such pose any risk.

Research and development of various scientific projects on Praksa, in the meantime, continued unabated. The scientific missions were using mobile airship laboratories, hovering over the planet, equipped with scientists, machinery, drones, everything needed to conduct their required research. Airships designed and built specifically for Praksa.

And on that day, a general meeting of several science chiefs was to take place onboard the mobile laboratory airship for a monthly wrap up of the research and results, laying out the projects for the next month...

[Tarasovka]

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Of Rites Old and Never Forgotten
1
&
Of the Armata de Strigoi
1

Somewhere in Handalar, Handalarian Lordships, Taraskovyan Empire

A subterranean storage facility, containers illuminated from artificial light. Workers clad in protective suits, their faces and identities fully concealed, busily opening newly shipped containers, extracting packages of dangerous chemicals and catalysts useful in a number of industries such as mining, refining, production and manufacturing. Yet this was not the point of the whole operation, for these materials were but a decoy, concealing within the containers stasis pods.

"How I wish, my dear Seloth, that you would take delivery of my goods a bit further from your grounds and more towards more neutral grounds," one of the masked men spoke, clearly the Supplier. In fact, he did not speak, a voice synthesizer did the speaking for him. Or her. It was in fact not even possible to understand if it was a man or a woman, such was the concealment of the protective suit and such was the deformation of the voice so as to render identification impossible through any technical means.

"I understand, my dear Strig, yet we shall maintain the current logistical arrangements," another masked figure spoke, clearly the Client. "Pray, you shall understand that we purchase live specimens for a reason that would draw attention anywhere, so we shall minimize risks. Here we are comfortable."

Neither Strig nor Seloth were their real names, of course. The Client gave a look around the storage facility as his personnel retrieved the stasis pods and began loading them up on transportation platforms to take away. The pods were standardised, of the same size, yet their contents varied from children to adults, men and women, alive, yet in deep artificial sleep.

"Pray, tell me, any imperials in there?" Seloth said his head motioning towards the pods.

"Oh, no, my Foragers do not prospect in Imperial grounds, might be too much attention. Trust me, my dear Seloth, this universe is full of places where the Foragers can requisition humans, elves and whatever suits your requirements without drawing as much attention," Strig said without any emotion.

Seloth did not answer as he surveyed the merchandise. The cult of Akbaa, an ancient Tarathian sect that was maybe as old as the cult of the Seven Deities with the Tarathian kin, was persecuted, hunted, exterminated over countless millenia, yet always survived. Followers were few, yet they have learned to grow in strength, commanding wealth and influence, yet concealing their true identities. And so the faithful could at day time be seen "praying" at the Spires of Seven, yet at night reveling in sacrificing living persons to the glory of their God, consuming their blood as mythical vampires of old. No, the faithful did not turn into bats and their reflections appeared quite well enough in mirrors.

Needless to say, stocks of live offerings were always dwindling and required replenishment. Hunting for Taraskovyan citizens was an option, but, unfortunately, Taraskovyan law enforcement never gave up disappearence cases and always kept them on active file. Even if it would take them ten, twenty or fifty Earth years, even if it meant resolving the case by freak luck or by pure chance. A long period for a human, a blink of an eye for a true pureblood Tarathian and faithful of Akbaa, a risk for the faithful that was too big to be taken.

"Ah, Seloth, let me show you something. My Foragers, and myself of course, appreciate your business and, please, accept this as a kind extra on top of the usual delivery," Strig spoke as he motioned towards one of the pods. Clearly the cargo inside was much more valuable than the average goods.

Seloth stood motionless in front of it, for it was not possible to decipher his emotions. Finally, he nodded in approval. "Yes, indeed, a fine specimen that shall be most welcome. Pray, pass my sincere gratitude to your Foragers. And, pray, who indeed are your Foragers? Sanglanti?"

"My dear Seloth, as you have said yourself, the less we collectively know, the better it is for us individually," Strig spoke.

Seloth simply nodded. Indeed, he did not speak to Strig about Akbaa or the exact reasons he needed the living humans, elves and "other species that suited his requirements". He was the Client and he was paying money for clearly illicit goods. Strig was a Supplier dealing in illicit goods and collecting payments. Strig's Foragers were field personnel collecting the goods and receiving payment from Strig in return. The business chain was full and complete and required no additional information disclosed.

Strig did not know whether Seloth was a rich Handalarian industrialist, for the Handalarians, despite their conservative ways, were quick to embrace new technologies and were known within the Empire as providers of advanced goods, solutions, technologies and services. Or maybe Seloth was one of the Handalarian Lords themselves. He did not know his Client was a cultist of Akbaa, and he did not care.

And Seloth did not know how Strig managed to bypass Imperial border controls and smuggle the goods into Handalar, whether Strig was a rogue and corrupt intelligence officer or whether he was simply well connected.

All that mattered was that if Strig was caught by the Imperials, even if the Imperials dropped by the storage facilities, they would find nothing illicit and all trails would be too cold to follow. And if Seloth was somehow uncovered, then Strig would not risk much in turn, for the trails leading to him would be cold.

Both men were dealing with something that was punishable by death in the Empire, something where Imperial law enforcement was allowed to shoot first and ask no questions later.

And so as Seloth handed Strig an exquisite box containing payment, not in cash or traceable currency, but in information. Information and time were the most precious resources one could have, Strig had no lack of time, but he was in severe lack of certain information.

[Tarasovka]

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Of Archery and Adroitness

Scattered and unpopulated islands, Duchy of New Crimea, Taraskovyan Empire

The planet of New Crimea, a wonderful, sunny world blessed by an overabundance of oceans, warm climate, delicious sea food, universe class resorts, white sandy beaches, luxury hotels. A paradise, in other words. And yet, there were still remote corners of this paradise that were not inhabited and visited by people seeking to get away from the stress of this world and spend some time alone.

Such was with a group of young people who flew off in a privately rented aircraft to some of the unpopulated islands to indulge in surfing and a completely new craze hailing from the Republic of Sunset: surf archery.

Now, archery was extremely popular in the Taraskovyan Empire and among Taraskovyans. After all, killing the enemy from far away before the enemy could kill you, or even see you, was a very tactically sound option in warfare, quite efficient, hence why Tarathians, who loved all sorts of things efficient, for millenia practiced their skills. And so did Taraskovyans in general of all kins. Horse Archery was so popular that a special contest, the Leib-Guard Tourney was held in which military units completed against each other in the skill of archery. And it was not always the Leib-Guards that came on top, as occasionally regular army units showed much prowess and skill.

And so when the latest craze hit Sunset, it was quick to contaminate parts of Taraskovya and even as far off as Menelmacar. Clubs and ad-hoc associations sprung up, driven by a single desire, yet united by no common understanding, rules or regulations of the new sport.

And so it was that as an athletic young ladies and young gentlemen in fitting bathing suits which revealed much of their athletic corpulence fired off arrow after arrow at targets as she surfed upon a gigantic wave, they were accosted by a police naval patrol.

"And just what are you kids doing here?" would be the question from the policeman as the action came to a halt and the surfers paddled together towards the police patrol boat.

"Surf archery!" would come the answer very naturally.

"Surf archery? Never heard of it, what's all that about?"

And then would follow explanations, with voices trying to silence each other out and creating a catatonic ensemble that would render any brain paralyzed. And indeed, so it was with the police officers who just shrugged.

"Well, what we see you kids doing is playing dangerous games. You might kill each other!"

And followed reassurances that no, every firing 'range' was properly lined out with buoys and self-organisation was at an outstanding level. All participants have reached legal majority and were responsible adults. At least officially. No human being or living being, such as fish, bird or local fauna, would be hurt. And the arrows were bio-degradable and would dissolve without danger in the water as they were fully approved by the relevant environmental regulations on pollution control.

And so the police officers would nod in agreement, check the surf archery out a bit, fail, wet their uniforms, then sail off to their patrols, reminding the youths to be respectful of each other, the environment and most important to not kill each other. And that the patrol would be back to check that the youths were not killing local fauna outside of the permitted fishing and hunting activities as per the local regulations.

[Tarasovka]

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Of the Watchers in the Deep
1

CD-DSR-46/ML/293 System, Somewhere Out There in the Universe

The Chief Directorate for Deep Space Reconaissance were often called the "Watchers in the Deep", referring to their task of being the eyes, ears, mouth, body and limbs of the Empire in the cold, dark vastness of space. The name hailed from the "Watchers on the Sea", a task entrusted to Taraskovyan naval commanders in the days of past to scout the seven thousand seas and warn of any impending threat or doom to the Empire. A most honourable duty now almost forgotten in the depths of history. Then again, one could say that the "Watchers in the Deep" were in fact the "Watchers on the Sea" of the modern age of space exploration and endless expanses of the Multiverse.

The Chief Directorate was a huge organisation and organism of its own, officially reporting into the Ministry of Defence, yet operating as its own service, lording over its own facilities, logistical arrangements, its own fleet, orbital and planetary assets and all sorts of reconaissance assets. For its missions, the CD-DSR could rely on cooperation from the rest of hte Ministry of Defence, from the National Security Ministry, from the Taraskovyan Imperial Academy of Sciences and any other state service.

And this well oiled and organised machine also contained a wild card element, its fleet of Parkan raiders. The Parkan X-35 Cruisers, classified as cruisers for their particular ability to be independent within the reaches of space and containing rather impressive firepower, yet not being actual cruisers, were used for deep space patrol duties. Then again, the classification could confuse an enemy, so this was always beneficial.

The Parkans were shaped as giant flying wings, or as giant boomerangs or, in the eye of the beholder, as giant somewhat flattened bananas. Aside from a central core with the main drives and the internal skeleton of the ship, the wings section were highly customisable with a number of modules. Each individual craft was, in fact, unique, so the single model classification could not be applied to all. Some crews prefferred additional firepower, other crews additional research equipment, or additional warbot or drone hangars.

Each ship could stay in the vastness of space without resupply pretty much indefinetely. The standard build always included sufficient means of resource collection and processing to resupply the vessel from ad hoc resource sources. Automation and mechanisation, coupled with standardised production matrixes meant that any raider could just venture out and never return to base as long as its crew survived.

Each ship was sufficient to wage a small scale war, for its complement of weaponry, warbots and drones allowed it to engage enemies, and its drives allowed it to pull out of combat and retreat to safer areas. If required. Hostile engagements were quite rare in the work of the CD-DSR.

The human crews of the Parkan raiders were made of very specific volunteers. These were one of a kind pilots, that doubled up as scientists, researches, surface combattants, explorers. Yet again, as everything was modular, the crews varied depending on the number of inhabitable modules integrated into the wing sections of the ships.

And whilst most raiders comprised crews of about 4 to 5, some were staffed by as few as just a single pilot. And among the "one of a kind" volunteers to serve in the Deep Space Patrol, these solitary pilots were even the rarest kind of all. Very talented, yet often introverted and sometimes openly misantropic, these pilots blossomed on such long and solitary missions, confined to the vastness of space, without strict orders to follow.

And the system with the record number CD-DSR-46/ML/293 was being explored specifically by one such solitary pilot, Captain Peter Verzilov...

[Tarasovka]

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Of Rites Old and Never Forgotten

Keth, Duchy and Fiefdom of Kethar, United Kingdom of Dakathia and Cardinia, Taraskovyan Empire

Several men and women in civilian fatigues, seated behind tables in a briefing room at an inconspicious building in one of the districts of Keth, the "other" most ancient city of Tarathia, formerly capital of the Kethari, a race as old as Amalori from Amalor and as forgotten to the winds of history as their counterparts. A long time ago, the two waged wars against each other with the use of Tarathian hosts and mercenaries. Until Tarathians decided they could form a Unity of their own and wiped out or assimilated their former lords and masters.

This particular building was extremely well protected against curious ears and preying eyes, for it was one of the local subdivisions of the National Security Ministry's Imperial Criminal Investigative Service, the Empire's "federal police" responsible for maintaining law and order throughout the Empire, regardless of Realm or Dominion, investigating complex crimes, dismantling criminal syndicates most vile and ensuring that Imperial Citizens were safe and could sleep in peace. Among the newcomer was Helena Dyakova, a former investigator with the Feldgendarmerie, the Taraskovyan provost marshal service responsible for law enforcement with military personnel and in some other particular cases.

And in this particular building the very particular briefing room was part of an induction session for newcomers of the Task Force "Akbaa" of the Investigative Service. Task Force "Akbaa" recruited only non-Tarathians, mostly Ros, it headhunted for excellent and talented detectives and investigators among the regional or Imperial law enforcement agencies, be they civilian or from the military Feldgendarmerie, submitted candidates to grueling psychological, fitness, capability and skill tests. TF "Akbaa" was not a particularly large task force within the Investigative Service, yet it needed not be. They hunted a very elusive, skilled enemy, which always hid in shadows, never showing its face to the light of day or even to the light of the moon.

"Gentlemen and Ladies, Ladies and Gentlemen," the instructor said as he began his presentation. "The mandatory reminder on the historic context. The Cult of Akbaa, a Tarathian religions movement the origin of which is not known, yet believed to come from the ancient Kethari, the Kethari so-called "living God" Hok Baeth. They worship Akbaa, and are actually monotheist as opposed to the politheist Tarathians."

The newcomers to the unit listened some with attention, others with boredom as the instructor continued.

"There are theories that Hok Baeth created his own movement among Tarathians worshipping himself. Or herself. Little is known on this, because as we all remember, the Kethari archives were burned and destroyed during the Tarathian Unification Wars. However, you shall of course not speak of this to your Tarathian colleagues," the instructor said with a hint of a jest, "as we all remember that they come from infinity and head into eternity."

There was a small laughter through the room as the everyday "friendly competition" between Ros and Tarathians made the mandatory politically correct appearence.

"And you shall all of course remember that the followers of Akbaa practice human sacrifice," the instructor stated, obviously referring to what Taraskovyans called "humans", which included such kins as elves, for example. "Yet they do not practice just sacrifice. They need to endulge their God... or Goddess... yet again, this is not clear, in all sorts of perverse pleasures before finally sacrificing the victims, proceeding to consume their blood and endulge in all sorts of mentally sick orgies..."

The instructor sighed as he launched a video recording.

"What I will show you now is classified evidence. This shows a group of cultists sacrificing a victim, recorded by the cultists themselves," the instructor said as he launched the video.

"Remember," he continued, "you have paper bags on the tables if you decide to vomit. And you will."

What followed on the video would be far too graphic to describe, involving sexual acts, beating, torturing and other acts of despicable cruelty upon the living victim. The face of the victim was digitally concealed and the identity was fully masked. It could have been just any random person snatched off the street. Suffice to say that one by one the newcomers grabbed their paper bags and vomitted the contents of their stomachs, such the sight was unbearable, as they clutched their fingers into the surface of their tables in rage and anger.

"Sick bastards," Helena said as the video came to an end. "Did we get them?"

"All of those present in this recording, yes, we got them," the instructor nodded. Eternal imprisonment on an off-world high security prison. Which, for a Tarathian, will be literally eternity, or until such time they might get terminated."

"The key take away from this induction session, Ladies and Gentlemen," the instructor concluded, "is that you must not under any occasion underestimate our enemy. The enemy is cunning, cruel, violent. They have successfully survived through millenia of persecution by every possible government or polity in Tarathia. Today, they are splintered into small, yet highly organised groups, which may not even known about each other's existence, they are deep undercover and concealed, yet they are still out there. And it is our job to smoke them out of their holes."

[Tarasovka]

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Of the Army and its Particularities
1

A TNDF Recruitment Center, Uthar, Fiefdom of Uthar, United Kingdom of Dakathia and Cardinia, Taraskovyan Empire

Uthar, the splendid and bustling megapolis, fully interwined into the Uthar-Helden-Reuver megalopolis, once the proud capital of the Vortex Corporation, a sovereign state of its own, yet now the capital of the Fiefdom of Uthar within Dakatho-Cardinia. Uthar was also the informal capital of the so-called "Utharian Fiefdoms", three provinces of Dakatho-Cardinia inhabited by Utharians and speaking Utharian, a language somewhat closely related to Dutch, somewhat mutually intelligible with it, yet considered different by its speakers from such dialects as practiced in such far away lands as Knootoss.

As a major population center, it was also a major manpower center for the Taraskovyan National Defence Forces in the face of both professional and career oriented personnel, as well as in the shape of the young citizens subject to mandatory military service with the Imperial Territorial Defence Forces. And as such, it hosted a number of Recruitment Centers, large self-contained facilities where recruits could undergo psychological, medical and physical readiness check ups, including medical units and personnel, sports grounds, canteen, dormitory, testing rooms, everything to make sure the recruit was fit for duty with the nations armed forces.

ITDF service was particular in that it was not a constant readiness mechanism, but rather a mechanism to maintain a civilian population in a state of citizen-soldiers ready to be called up at a moment's notice, already assigned to active ITDF units, having all the skills required of their trades, from pilots to infantry.

Among a plethora of activities, there were as well induction sessions, and this particular induction session was being given by Captain Ida de Groen to a class of young Utharian ladies. Indeed, ladies, for Taraskovya conscripted both male and female citizens. Which was in itself particular, for the Empire made certain exemptions for populations of some of its dependent Dominions, yet conscripted the bulk of the Realms population.

"And so ladies, you'll notice that as per your Marching Orders, you are under Military Law from zero zero o'clock one second the day you are called up for service. This means that there are military prescriptions for how you're supposed to come to recruitment process and then into service entry in civilian clothes. And I can see that quite a few came on high heels and in miniskirts," the Captain said. "Which is indeed very sexy, but contravenes regulation. Now, the military does not run after girls in miniskirts, do not worry, however, you are supposed to come in comfortable shoes and clothes. Imagine if the Allaneans attack tomorrow and you need to jump off your scooter and pick up a rifle and fight, eh. How long will you fight on high heels?"

There was a round of laughter in the room as Ida herself laughed along with the classroom.

"As well, boys cannot just run around in swimming trunks and flipflops, eh, not smart, and by the looks of some of the guys that came in today, my colleague will be telling them exactly the same. If the Allaneans attack, are they going to show them bare buttocks?"

Another round of laughter in the room.

"Also, seriously, and quite frankly all feminism aside. You are now in recruitment. Here you will undergo testing, you will select your military profession. This will be more or less separate from boys. But in six months to a year's time, when you prepare to enter service into the Recruit School for basic training, you will be at the same facilities with men. Of course, you'll be lodged in separate cantonnements or separate rooms, but you'll be with the men from your platoon every other time you're not in your room. So if you come in with a mini-skirt and high heels and pink hair, what do you think the guys will start doing?"

"But isn't that harassement?"

"In the military, you need to address your superior by saying Sir or Madam, stating your intention and if you are allowed to proceed, you proceed," the Captain said with a smile. "Now, please repeat this properly."

"Euh... Madam... I have a question?"

"Yes, proceed."

"Isn't that harassement?"

"It is indeed harassement and military discipline does not allow for harassement," the Captain nodded. "This does not in any way, shape or form exclude men or women from any disciplinary action, yet you must also be smart and reasonable. Army is all about being plain. You will see that the first day when you enter service at the Recruit School, there'll be metal heads, there'll be barbie dolls, there'll be suits, there'll be trench-coats. Yet the very next day it's BAM everybody is in the same uniform, with the same kit. So be smart, don't draw too much attention to yourself."

"Captain," another hand rose up. "I have a question."

"Yes, proceed."

"Will be serve in Uthar?"

"This will depend on your profession and your career path if you choose to go professional. You may serve in Uthar, you may serve off world. But what will definitely happen is that all recruit schools are multi-kin. You will have Ros, you will have Vareil, you might have Tarathians, you're not likely to have Kajali, but it happens. And the command language is Ros or Tarathian. Mostly Ros. Because if all fails and the enemy somehow manages to kill every single electronic bit of advanced programming, when you need to manually load and aim and fire your artillery cannon," the Captain gesticulated mimicking carrying a shell and shoving it into a breech, causing some more laughter in the room. "Then at this moment when your Ros commander orders you to lay three shells at the enemy at coordinates specified, you want to execute that order. And as there's a lot of Ros in Taraskovya, there's a high chance your commander might be Ros. Even if Utharians are good at climbing up the military echelons and quite a few of us make it to the very top positions."

"Captain, question!" another hand shot up.

"Proceed."

"Has this ever happened? What you describe? Like all systems failing?"

"No, never. At any rate, knowing to speak Ros in Taraskovya is a useful thing, believe me, for your civilian lives as well," the Captain nodded.

"Captain? Question?"

"Yes, proceed."

"And if it comes to war, will we be sent to war?"

"The point of the Imperial Territorial Defence Force is to provide a rapid mobilisation pool to free up the Imperial Engagement Forces to attack and defeat the enemy. Should Belovodie come under attack, for example, the ITDF will be called up all over the Empire, redeploying assets to Belovodie and protecting other Imperial strongholds as necessary while the IEF and the SQF go on the offensive. Unless there is a Total Galactic War," the Captain said, "the likelihood of you every serving abroad is nil. Unless you sign up to IEF or SQF service, as these do undertake foreign missions while there is peace in the Empire."

[Tarasovka]

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Of Politics and Shenanigans
1

Broadcast over major Taraskovyan News Networks

The announcement was scheduled well ahead of time and the press conference room at the Red Palace was full with journalists, with even many more networks joining in remotely. The Red Palace, the seat of the Imperial Veche Council, the upper chamber of the three chambers comprising the Taraskovyan Imperial Veche, the Taraskovyan Parliament.

At several minutes before the announcement was due to take place, side doors opened and in walked Her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Vethara of Taraskovya, Chairwoman of the Imperial Veche Council and, therefore, the symbolic Chairwoman of the entire Imperial Veche. Unlike the middle chamber (Senate) and the lower chamber (Duma), the Council was not an elected body, and was rather appointed directly by the Grand Duchess’es own brother, the Vasilevs of all Taraskovya.

Dressed into a fitting and stylish business suit, long hair flowing as she walked energetically to the podium, giving a couple professional smiles to the audience, the woman took position behind the speaker podium. Even if she was never elected to her position, Vethara was one of the few members of the Imperial Veche Council who made no doubt that she’d be easily elected to office because of cunning skill and political experience. She was followed by His Grace the Duke Dateril of Uiliath, a well known ethnic Tarathian lord from Cardinia and the Deputy Chairman of the Imperial Veche Council.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Vethara started with a smile addressing the journalists present and all the networks broadcasting her announcement. “I would first of all like to thank you for your time and it is a pleasure to see the entire room full, all chairs taken, all space in between the chairs taken and even people peeking in from the corridors.”

There was a wave of giggles through the room as she resumed her speech.

“I would like to take this opportunity to confirm the various rumours and hearsays circulating the analytical establishment over the past several Earth weeks. This morning I have handed in my resignation as Member of the Imperial Veche Council and as Chairwoman of the Imperial Veche Council to His Most August Majesty the Vasilevs of all Taraskovya. His Most August Majesty has accepted my resignation. My well trusted friend and colleague, His Grace the Duke of Uiliath, will assume the position of Chairman of the Imperial Veche Council following my resignation. His Grace is even more experienced and professional than I am and will excel at this task.”

Vethara made a pause before continuing as the future Chairman standing on her right side nodded in acknowledgement.

“I would like to dispel some of the more negative rumours and would like to reassure the Taraskovyan People that there has been no disagreements between myself and His Most August Majesty. It has been an honour to serve His Most August Majesty and the Taraskovyan People for these many years and I would like to concentrate on different matters here on. I will remain active within Taraskovyan politics and will continue with my role within the Constitutional Democratic Party.”

Vethara made another pause, smiling to the audience.

“I would like to also thank the members present and past of the Imperial Veche Council as it has been a pleasure to work with such professionals. I leave the Chamber in good hands. His Most August Majesty will nominate the replacement Member of the Imperial Veche Council from the Duchy of Zoria, my seat, in the coming hours and the proper announcement shall be released by the Winter Palace. Now, we must attend another formal event which we cannot postpone, related to my upcoming resignation. We are shortly meeting with the Speakers of the Senate and of the Duma. As such, unfortunately, I am not able to take further questions and we must depart with His Grace to the Northwind Palace post haste, but I assure you that I will be available for a questions and answers session within the next days.”

With that, somewhat breaking with her usual protocol of always answering questions from the audience during previous press briefings, Her Imperial Highness nodded, beamed a smile to the audience and walked out the briefing room, waiving to the journalists as she departed. There was obviously a storm of questions being shouted by the press, yet none were taken by Her Imperial Highness.

[Tarasovka]

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Of the Army and its Particularities
&
Of Matters Defensive

Mars Theatre Command Staff, Mars, Sol System

Diplomacy fails, conflicts erupts, the wheel makes another turn and history repeats itself over and over again. This was not new and this was what Admiral Helena Tromp, CO Mars Theatre TNDF and the forces under her command were exactly for. To make sure the Empire and her People risked nothing, even when less politically responsible neighbours were at the brink of fighting each other.

As the potential flareup point was right across the borders of Cimmeria and of the Taraskovyan Sanglanti Coast, territories held by the Taraskovyn Empire, the TNDF ensured a “defensive-offensive” posture in the regions to ensure that no stray bullets flew into Imperial domains, so to speak. And should the need be to go on the offensive, then the TNDF was prepared to do just that.

Across the border with the Martian Conglomerate, more specifically the Laconian Republic portion of it, additional “furballs” were deployed to assist in containing any spill overs. These gravitational constructs, hovering above ground, were used to project defensive “barriers” able to stop matter and energy, twist and bind as required. Technology over the past years made significant progress, for in the past such constructs were actual orbital frigates, staffed by crew and operating as screeners for fleets, shielding the warships against incoming enemy fire. Such frigates were not always successful, yet they are truly the grandparents of the “furballs” of today. Since then “furballs” have become autonomous defensive units capable of being deployed in uncountable numbers on any battlefield, shielding anything from an infantry platoon and all the way to entire regions.

Additionally, the TNDF was also preparing to screen and triage and influx of refugees, to pass over to civil defense and other state and non-state organisations that would take care of them further. Additional Territorial Defence Forces medical staff was called into service for this purpose.

And as Counter-Admiral Tromp was busy inspecting and reviewing the strategic plans among her Staff, she received message that the liaison officer from the Republic of Sunset has arrived to coordinate the operations of his units, relocated to test out some of the newer hardware the Republic was deploying on Mars. And placing these Stormsurge tanks on a perimeter all around the Martian Congomerate was quite convenient.

“Excellent, our Solntseskhod friends are always welcome in our midst,” the Counter-Admiral said as the SDF officer entered the room and all the relevant salutes and formal presentations were carried out, before work on strategic planning resumed.

[Tarasovka]

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Of the Phantoms of the Future
1

“Obelisk to the Fallen Swan: Nekshas Tenathir, Count of Terth, Captain of the Elder Life Guards”
North of Tarvalak Cold Weather Anomaly #2, Dominion of Tarvalak, Earth, Sol System

Tarvalak was always a particular corner of the Taraskovyan Empire, an impressively huge territory, yet sparsely populated due to ancient agreements between the Supreme Lord and Ruler Sherdarth and the local Tarsheath clans and tribes (those that survived his campaigns of extermination at any rate), by which the Tarathians could settle and build along the northern shores of Tarvalak, where they built the “Tarathian Highway”, established outposts and built cities. To the south of were vast lands full of forests, plains, rivers, mountain chains, hills, populated by the nomadic Tarsheath.

In his bid to control the nomadic and matriarchal Tarsheath, Sherdarth made the Tarsheath contribute their best daughters to his armies, calling them Sherdarth in turn. Needless to say the Supreme Lord and Ruler was extremely fond of his own persona. In Tarsheath culture, it was the women that hunted, scouted, raided, men being called to arms to defend the clan in case of a major war with neighbours.

And so this arrangements stayed in place for more than thirty thousand years to this day, and there was no change to it. The Sherdarth were officially part of the Life Guards, part of the Imperial Household, yet they were employed within Tarvalak as a rule enforcement force, patrolling the vast uninhabited expanses of the region.

Yet the current story is only partially about the Shardarth, for two of them stood at attention next to one of the Obelisks to the Fallen Swans. These Obelisks were located at the spots where many years ago a massive aerial battle took place between Taraskovyans and Taraskovyans. Between those loyal to the then Archduchess Vethara and those loyal to the military putchists that sought to take over Taraskovya in the aftermath of the civil war that preceded the events. A very dark, violent and horrid period in Taraskovyan history that seemed to have been collectively hushed in the national psyche, so huge was the collective trauma.

When the Civil War, the “Plague” as the nation called it, apparently claimed the life of Vethara’s brother, the Grand Duke Michael, a group of opportunistic army leaders attempted to seize power and use Vethara as a “front” to legitimize their activities. Michael vanished, proclaimed dead and leaving a gigantic power vacuum behind. His sister was next in line. She refused and so they tried to “remove” her. One thing leading to the other, she was smuggled out by forces loyal to her and taken to Menelmacar into Exile.

It was during this smuggling attempt that a major aerial battle was waged between hundreds of aerospace craft on both sides, the carcasses of those unlucky enough to be shot down littering the landscape. Many died, other loyalists that survived being shot down were taken prisoner and spent the next 7 years in prisons. Other loyalists hunkered down in Menelmacar.

When Michael returned seemingly alive after 7 years and claimed his throne back from the military putchists, one of the things done to commemorate the events were erecting tall obelisks to the “Fallen Swans”, as the loyalist pilots protecting his sister came to be known for saving the Swan Princess from the clutches of the ravenous putchists. The obelisks were built upon the ground where their craft crashed in the tundra of Tarvalak.

One of those pilots was Nekshas Tenathir, Count of Terth, Captain in the Life Guards and Vethara’s former fiancé, who was part of the group smuggling her out.

Each year, the now Grand Duchess Vethara came to pay respect to those men and women that died protecting her. She would take a small personal security detail, meet up with several Sherdarth well known to her, and tour the Obelisks. Of course, on a more "further perimeter", Imperial security made sure Her Imperial Highness was not interrupted on distracted by nosy reporters or journalists.

One, after the other, after the other, dozens of them. Spread as they were over a vast region within Tarvalak, most to the north of the “Tarvalak Cold Weather Anomaly Number Two”, a climatic anomaly that made the area unrealistically cold all year round, covering the areas hundreds if not thousands of kilometers in every direction in snow all year round.

Her private security detail, in full powered armor outfits to help them brave the cold and, of course, to make sure that nothing happened to their charge, fanned out in a protective perimeter. There was no threat to the Grand Duchess, not in uninhabited Tarvalak, not so close to the closed off military area around TCWA-2. Yet, status and rank meant she did not belong only to herself, but to the entire nation, with dire consequences should ill befall her.

Vethara walked up to the Obelisk marking the place where her fiancé supposedly died. Supposedly because, as she read from the investigation reports, his aerospace fighter was vaporized in the air, leaving him no chances. The obelisk marked the spot where some debris was found from his craft, with pieces of his pilot armor.

The Sherdarth snapped to attention, drawing their swords and remained still, the frozen winds battering their hoods, their faces emotionless. Needless to say that the Sherdarth had a very particular tolerance to cold and frost, which served them well.

“And so, we meet again, Nekshas,” Vethara said as she kneeled and stared pensively at the nameplate. Vethara herself was also quite resistant to cold, much moreso than even her security detail, clad as they were into protective gear. She pulled her arms up to pull her hood down. “The other day I remembered how we used to argue about your conversion to the Orthodox faith. All seems so distant now, doesn’t it?”

She closed her eyes. Each year she left this one, the hardest one, for the last. She visited every single obelisk, paid respect to every single loyalist pilot. But this was the hardest part of her journey, one that made her remember all that happened. So much happened after the night she fled. She made enemies and friends. She discovered the truth about her past. Would have it been better she remained oblivious of her past, that this entire chain of events never happened?

She had no answer to this. She sat down, leaning against the obelisk, the wind blowing her hair and her cheeks tingling lightly as they froze in the cold. The two Sherdarth moved in her direction to offer assistance, yet she stopped them, raising her gloved hand up. They made a polite nod and went off to join with the security detail, who themselves were from the “Lorelei Regiment”, also known as the “Swan Guards”.

“The Swan had flown, you made sure of that. Sirithil made sure I lived to return home. You all did your part,” Vethara kept on speaking into the air. “You did your part. Thank you. Each time I remember how your tactical sign on the screen just vanished. Just… vanished.” She paused. “But I keep repeating myself over all these years.”

It was certain that there were orders to kill her. And that fateful night the Fallen Swans made sure she lived, even if they did not. The rest of the extended Shakhovskoy dynasty had been taken under arrest by the time of her flight and her death would have opened the way for the putchists to pressure her other relatives.

Memories piled up in her head. The eruption of the Civil War, the Military Coup, the flight, the deaths that followed, her life in Menelmacar, uncovering her past and learning that her entire life was a lie, embracing her rediscovered self, the recovery of Taraskovya by her brother, her return to Taraskovya, the assassination attempt on her life. Domino after domino falling down. And no way to bring the dominoes back up.

“Remember that song?”

She closed her eyes and began to sing in a soft voice.

“If I had known
From the beginning
Two lives ago
I wouldn't change a thing, so
Kiss me goodbye
And if that's what you wanted to
Sail to the dusk
There's nothing more we can do.”

Vethara sighed as the cold wind grew stronger, yet she didn’t feel the cold. She stood back up, turned to face the obelisk, took off the glove on her right hand, brought her fingers to her lips and then traced the fingers across the nameplate on the obelisk.

“I kiss you goodbye. See you next year.”

And off she walked to her private shuttle, her Sherdarth and her Swan Guards following her. One last glance across her shoulder before boarding and the door closed behind her.

[Tarasovka]

OOC: A long time ago I led an RP with a side nation. So many years later, I believe that some of the lore can be recycled and used in the future, as such I shall be tying up some loose ends. Would be a shame to let it go to waste, wouldn't it?

*-*-*

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Of Tying up Loose Ends
and
Of Things Far Out, Shysh Far Out

“It is far out, but not Shysh far out.” ~ Director Hertzfeldt, Federated Segments of Scolopendra

In orbit over Poik, the Most Noble and Serene Republic of Poik, Organised Shysh Space, Shysh Sector, Far Away Outskirts of the Milky Way Galaxy

The Most Noble and Serene Republic of Poik, the center of the Shysh Organised Space, the center and jewel of the Shysh civilization, or what remained of it, anyway.

The small Taraskovyan naval detachment, consisting of a single cruiser, the TNDF ”Svyazhsk” and several escorts, arrived in orbit over Poik in a visit prepared since quite a time ago, escorted by one of the Fortune-class battleships of the Most Noble and Serene Navy. Despite the ouvertures towards Taraskovya and Yut, the Shysh remained still on the wary side of the foreigners. The Most Noble and Serene Navy rebuilt rather quickly following the staggering losses in the campaign to contain the Remnant Armadas in the Heshba sector, where for the first time in history the battleships from Poik, Laipalk, Lemkenak and other Lordships fought side by side under overall strategic command of Captain Opeyemi M'Hadjou from the bridge of her Triumvirate of Yut Research Cruiser Fabian von Bellingshausen.

In orbit over Poik, the TNDF detachment met up with the aforementioned von Bellingshausen and the commander of the Taraskovyan detachment transferred aboard the GEC ship for a debrief. He chose to first be debriefed by the GEC commander, and only then by the SDO on the surface of Poik itself.

“It is truly an honour to meet you, Captain M’Hadjou,” His Serene Highness the Duke Mstivoy of Imperial Blood, Admiral TNDF, said with a welcome grin as he stepped upon the command bridge. The GEC personnel snapped to attention, then went at ease, before the Captain and the Admiralretired to a conference room for the debrief with their adjutants and lieutenants.

Captain M’Hadjou by that time had most certainly read the TYCS report on the relative of the Taraskovyan Vasilevs, his somewhat arrogant and troublesome past, his past failures that were followed by a merciless series of assignments to TNDF's operations across the Galaxy. The kind of assignments that broke a man to forge him completely anew. And so Mstivoy was successfully reforged into someone completely new.

"Admiral, a pleasure to have onboard. Also a pleasure of handing this finally off to someone and being able to resume what me and my crew are best suited for, namely Galactic Exploration, " Captain M'Hadjou said. “This has been many Earth years, far too many.”

"I have accustomed myself with your full brief and assorted materials. Quite impressive, managing to rally the locals against the Remnant Threat and leading them in combat," Mstivoy nodded. "I am sorry for the losses you suffered."

"Thank you, Admiral. There were also staggering losses on the Shysh side, as the Remnant is quite clearly far more technologically advanced that the fleets of the Organised Space," the Captain noted dryly.

"And managing to gather them under the Grand Assembly Broad and Wide, impressive," the Taraskovyan nodded. "Also surprising the Grand Assembly Broad and Wide decided thr way it did."

"Poik pushed hard for the Nimatojin, and their share of votes is not small. The Heshbans as well.The Lords, however, outweighed them and went for Taraskovya."

"Such is democracy in the works," the Duke nodded as their debrief with the Captain continued for some time.

Once on Poik, the Duke would also receive a briefing from Senior Diplomatic Officer Laurence Devar before finally proceeding to receive his credentials from the Grand Assembly Broad and Wide. The Taraskovyan Empire would soon become the Grand Assembly's "Partner in all matters Galactic and Interstellar", both an honour and a chore that was the Duke’s to carry with dignity and efficiency he so well became known for over the past years.

A new page in Galactic history, being written from scratch.

[Tarasovka]

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Of the Phantoms of the Future
2

Var-Damarth, planet New Kavreleun, Dominion of New Kavreleun, Taraskovyan Empire

Dateril shol-Merath was a man of a long history full of ups and downs, opportunism mixed with strategic thinking, and one of the richest people in the whole of Taraskovyan Empire and, thus, maybe also of the multiverse.

By human standards, Dateril was old. His father, the Lord Kem of Merath, was on the side of the “slave-owning” Tarathian Lords during the civil war known as the Strife, which pitted mostly Ros former slaves and their abolitionist Tarathian supporters against an extremely resolute core of Tarathian traditionalists. More than a thousand Earth years ago.

Dateril fought in that war, when he was still a young heir to his father. Not because he was personally that much in favour of ancient traditions and slaveowning, but simply because he decided to stick by his family. Not that the abolitionists were very generous with the lives of Traditionalist families, cutting them down to take over their domains.

As the Strife ended, the Traditionalists were exiled and Dateril followed his father, leading the loyal retainers across the Aphyr Sea and on the shores of Handalar. The armada of Traditionalist Exiles unfurled upon Handalar, carving a path of destruction against the Acaronns, driving them out of Handalar and Kavreleun.

The Tarathian Exiles, adopting the name of Shakhtal to differentiate themselves from the Abolitionists, then began busily carving up their new domains between themselves. After decades of warfare between themselves, a total of nine Lordships arose. Dateril’s father Kem carved out a large piece of Kavreleun, which he dubbed the Lordship of Kavreleun.

And it would have been the end of the story, but the problem was that Dateril favoured men more than women and had no intention to follow up with an heir of his own, reasoning that since he was anyway clinically immortal, this was a moot point. Unfortunately for Dateril, the context was badly chosen for a coming out, as his depleted House was struggling to built up Kavreleun, his father engaged in constant power struggles with nearby Lords and his younger brother Namellar plotting actively against him.

And so, after a plot that could make for a novel of its own, Dateril was accused of being a cultist of Akbaa and exiled in turn. Not being able to return to Dakathia and Cardinia, firmly held by Abolitionists not eager to see one of their enemies return (especially not one accused of worshipping Akbaa), unwelcome in Handalar and Kavreleun, Dateril went on to explore the world.

For a thousand years he travelled, fought in wars, observed, gained skills and knowledge. When the Acaronns decided to try to reclaim Kavreleun and Handalar many hundreds after being expelled from there, Dateril did not return home to help the family that betrayed him. Lord Kem, his brother Namellar and many Shakhtal died as the Acaronns overran the Lordships of Kavreleun, Ithereun and Var-Keloreun.

New Kavreleun was a planet terraformed by the efforts of Dateril’s commercial ventures, transformed from a barren rock into a lush world that would remind one of the Tarathian cities of old, spires rising high into the sky and classical motives intermingled with modern technological wonders. The planet attracted settlers from all over the Empire, but even remarkably so it attracted many of the less stringent Handalarian Shakhtal to settle on it.

But it was not the terraformed forests or the scenic cities that the planet became known for. The planet had five natural satellites of different sizes. And with a specific regularity of them travelling through their orbits, they would align one behind the other so that only one could be seen for a moment. And then they would fan out one after the other, coming from behind each other in a manner reminiscent of a Russian doll, or a matryoshka. When this happened at night, at the right angle to the local star turning the sight into an Earth equivalent of a “full moon”, the view was uniquely breathtaking. Parties and receptions gathered in scenic areas all over the planet to observe and, of course, party through the night. This had become a tradition of sorts with many in the Empire.

At one such party, at the private estate of Dateril shol-Merath himself, the ambience was maybe more solemn than at the more deprived raves going on elsewhere. Yet, guests were drinking, socializing, enjoying themselves and the warm nights of the local summer equivalent. Dateril shol-Merath stood observing the sky, accompanied by the guest of honour, his good friend, none else than Her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Vethara of Taraskovya .

“And this is why I do not miss Earth,” Dateril said, gesturing towards the sky and then making a circular motion across as if to show something on the horizon. “Whilst the Ancient Lords argue over square meters of clay in between their ancestral domains, there’s a whole universe out there.

“So yes, people do ask me, that I am the official Hereditary Lord of Kavreleun, shouldn’t I be doing everything to get it back. Well, what’s the point? I’ve used every single weapon from the times when I was young and we used swords to the times when we were using plasma rifles. Technology has given us the option to go to the stars. Who would want to go back to that claustrophobic Earth after seeing all this?”

“I can only agree,” Vethara nodded, sipping on her drink. “You have done a wonderful job with this world.”

“It’s still mostly ECTOS and we had to stabilize the tidal flows because of the moons,” Dateril shrugged, giving a look down from the balcony they were standing on. Down below, guests were dancing and socializing to the tune of a renowned Taraskovyan rock band. “We’re trying to design something that would be aboriginal for the planet, so it’s a work in progress. But that won’t take long, mostly limited by our own imagination, to be honest.”

“The Empire is expanding exponentially into the stars, and a great portion of this exponential growth comes from private ventures such as yourself,” Vethara nodded. “My brother launched a drive to the stars, you’re taking it further. Which is commendable.”

“His Most August Majesty understands that with unlimited technology comes unlimited potential bound only by our own imagination,” Dateril nodded. “I fully support his drive to the stars, it is important if we are to survive as a civilization. Back on Earth we were Ros, Tarathian, Skakhtal, Vareil, Angstian, Sorvalian. Different kins, different races. Among the stars we all mingle together, we’re forced to be together. We become something else.”

“This is a very optimistic account for a planet that is mostly Shakhtal in its ancestry,” Vethara smiled as she skeptically interjected.

“Oh, dear friend, I’ll have you visit the place more and you’ll realize that you are most mistaken,” Dateril shook his head. “The planet’s population is booming. You have Shakhtal mingling with Dakatho-Cardinians and, of course, with Ros and others. As I’ve said, unlimited potential.”

The Shakhtal paused pensively then gave the woman a look.

“The biggest paradox of technology is that the more miniature things get, the more we’re prone to giganticism,” Dateril said. “You will remember the days when we first reached out to the stars, the bulky equipment we had. Now, take one of your Swan Guards as a reference point.”

Dateril gestured in the distance where Vethara’s loyal protectors were standing.

“When we reached out to the stars, our soldiers had bulky equipment and had a certain amount of firepower,” he continued enthusiastically. “Now, your bodyguards do not have any bulky equipment, they are dressed in civil attire, yet their firepower is equivalent to a… I don’t know… to a tank! We’ve miniaturized and advanced technologically. Your bodyguards can monitor the airspace, groundspace, subterranean and submarine space, they have enough firepower to destroy multiple enemies before the enemies even know what hit them. Even outside of their purely combat outfits!”

“Please go on, this sounds interesting,” the woman nodded. She was of course well aware of the capabilities of her Swan Guards, regardless of kit, be it in tuxedo, in ceremonial armor or in proper battle kit.

“And so, when a soldier obtains the firepower level of a tank, what do we do with a tank?” Dateril asked. “That’s a question I’m asking you. What do we do with a tank?”

“Turn its firepower into that of several tanks?” the woman raised an eyebrow.

“No, we turn it into the firepower of a Warship! And then we take a Warship and multiply its firepower enough to destroy entire squadrons of its own less technologically advanced counterparts.”

“Your explanation is a bit chaotic, but I understand where you are coming at,” Vethara nodded.

“So, we take powerful, yet infinitely minuscule gadgets and then we take a platform. If in the past this platform could fit a definite amount of firepower. Today it can fit thousands of times more on the same physically sized platform. And not only firepower, but also engines, barriers, anything and everything. We take minuscule bits and we turn entire planets into gardens. We take minuscule bits and we turn it into a military potential sufficient to crush Galaxies.”

Dateril paused a bit before continuing. “I can put just a simple bead into your underwear and turn you into a machine of mass destruction shooting out lightings like Svarog!”

Vethara erupted into laughter and shook her head. “First, there are many men that have this fantasy, my dear friend, yet you’re the last I imagined would say it so openly.”

She caught her breath before continuing. “Second, it’s not Svarog, it’s Perun.”

Dateril shrugged dismissively. “Ros mythology is not my strength. At any rate, I don’t even need to sew a bead into your underwear, I can just implant it under your skin for the same result!”

“I fail to understand where you’re getting at,” Vethara said, stifling a laugh. "But there is no option that leads to implanting me with lighting striking beads."

“Exponential interstellar growth combined with exponential technological advancement leads to a semi-autarkic economy that is sufficient to feed exponential growth in the military sphere, am I not correct?”

“In general, yes, but there are still economic limitations,” Vethara shrugged.

“And now consider the amount of firepower the Empire has. When you say TNDF, you mean the Engagement Forces, the Security and Quarantine Forces, the Territorial Defence Forces. Fleets, divisions, armies, armadas. Then we have drones. Do you know that in average, for every living soldier out there, there’s two assault drones, one defensive drone and two support drones? On average? Why do we still need living soldiers? We could just go for mechanoids for all our needs!”

“Most certainly to ensure that we have both mechanical and living assets," Vethara said pensively.

“Exactly! His Most August Majesty is not curbing down military growth, he’s not doing away with conscription. Taraskovya has powerful allies, yet it is as if your brother is preparing for something, either offensive or defensive. Something huge. And I mean, really huge.”

“I believe you are overexaggerating,” Vethara said dismissively. “The Empire has little threats, and the Empire is not really threatening anyone. You’ve said it yourself, unlimited technology makes fighting for resources a moot point, there is no need to conquer systems from one another when you can just transform them to your will and liking. Conquering a system may require more energy than adapting some other one to your needs.”

“Indeed, fleets and troops have, in the end, an energy cost. Maybe there is a belief that something will come for us,” Dateril shrugged. “On the one hand, I like military growth, it gets me revenue. On the other hand, I don’t understand what we need this amount of forces for.”

“Well, my dear friend, this is why you are now a businessman and not a soldier. Leave your soldiering days behind you. For the time being all I can say is that your guests have grown to miss their host. I believe we should return, as otherwise many will believe in a shift in your preferences. Your militarist paranoia can wait,” Vethara laughed as she took Dateril by the arm and led him back down, her overpowered world-destroying bodyguards following closely.

[Tarasovka]

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Of Rites Old and Never Forgotten
3

Undisclosed Location of the Imperial Criminal Investigative Service, Taraskovyan Empire

A media room at an undisclosed location somewhere in the Taraskovyan Empire. Could be anywhere, really, on Earth, off world, in space. No windows or illuminators. A group of people were sitting and going through recordings of secret TNDF operations from several years ago. Among the agents present was Captain Helena Dyakova, in the past an investigator with the Feldgendarmerie, and now an investigator with Task Force “Akbaa” of the Imperial Criminal Investigative Service.

“The easiest way for cultists to procure victims for their rituals is through the illegal interstellar slave trade,” the team leader spoke softly. “Unfortunately, despite the best efforts of the civilized world, the Galaxy and the Universe are just too big to ensure that slave trade is burned out completely.”

“You’d often still meet the technologically… retarded… markets where people are shown off on catwalks and sold to the highest bidder,” the team leader continued. “This is proper to more… retarded… civilizations where manual labour is still somehow reliant on inefficient slaveforce.” It was clear the team leader, just as any proper Taraskovyan, was heavily biased against slave trade in general. “However, slaves are not only sold and bought for manual labour. There are a whole variety of reasons and the more… modern… markets are dispersed and highly efficient marketplaces where everything is done remotely. You can buy sapients as you’d buy your groceries from the comfort of your home. There are wholesale retailers with organized safekeeping areas where they keep the victims before shipping them off to pre-agreed destination points. You will understand that while locating and following through the business chain, the second variety is much more complex.”

The agents present in the room nodded, made some mental notes to their personal work archives. For the upcoming operations, these agents would be working in a new field for Task Force “Akbaa”, yet a field that has been times and times successfully explored by their colleagues dealing with prevention of slave trade in Taraskovyan citizens or in favour of Taraskovyan citizens. These members of the Imperial Criminal Investigative Services were the “cloak and dagger” of Imperial intelligence within slaver network, guiding the punishing sword of the Taraskovyan National Defence Forces against those that violated Imperial Order.

“An example you’re witnessing,” the team leader said as the projections showed TNDF ships materializing in a star system over a planet and immediately proceeding to engage local orbital assets, doing away with enemy resistance in mere minutes. “Was a combined operation when the ICIS agents identified a ring selling Julaniem. As we all know, there’s seldom few Julaniem off world, as they tend to stick on Earth, and so the sudden disappearance of a consistent number received the highest interest. It appeared they were taken for the private collection of some… retarded… ruler of a… retarded… space capable nation.”

The number of times the team leader spoke the word “retarded” hinted at the number of times he wanted to use way more abusive words, yet was held back by his discipline and rank. Indeed, in Ros, the term “retarded” just meant “lagging behind in development” and did not have that much of an offensive meaning to it.

“After an attempt to buy them out failed, the ICIS directed a TNDF task force, led by the then Counter-Admiral Mstivoy Shakhovskoy-Karetsah, Duke of the Imperial Blood, against the slavers. Slaver casualties were massive. Our casualties were none.”

The picture switched to Taraskovyan troops in full combat kit advancing through empty corridors of some clearly lavishly decorated palace. The emptiness was nuanced by random weapons, clothing and armor lying around. But the troops did not seem to face any opposition as they advanced in assault fashion.

“What happened to the enemy?” Helena asked, incredulous.

“Vaporized,” the team leader shrugged. “A very useful thing for hostage situations. You scan, you recon, identify hostiles, vaporize them. Quite helpful for police operations, for search and boarding.”

“Vaporize them? What do you mean?”

The team leader looked over at Helena, raised an eyebrow. He lifted his hand into the air, spread his fingers.

“You identify a hostile,” he said slowly. “And then you,” he brought his fingers together, “vaporize the hostile" He clicked his fingers and gave Helena the stare of the kind one gave when one expected the interlocutor to stop asking stupid questions that were so obviously obvious. "The Feldgendarmerie has these systems, not sure how you missed them."

On the projections in the meantime, Taraskovyan troops opened golden intricately decorated cages, letting out all plethora of creatures, from humans to some species one had never seen before. All of them clearly sapient. Among the freed were the well-known anthropomorphic felinoids from Tavaroth, the Julaniem. Indeed, Taraskovya inherited its own cat people when it annexed Tavaroth.

“There’s clearly not only imperials out there,” Helena said pensively. “Oh-Kay, we take the Julaniem back to the Empire. What becomes of the rest?”

“Given choice to resettle in Dominions or given choice to return home, wherever that may be,” the team leader shrugged. “A lot are given the status of Persons under Imperial Protection. Quite a few are relocted to the Solntseskhod, who are less bureaucratic about non-chelo sapients. But the point here is not to demonstrate us being good Samaritans, the Empire intervenes when there is a violation of rights of Imperial or Allied citizens, as well as when activities concern violations of Imperial Order by Taraskovyan citizens. We do not go after every single slaver ring out there. Well, at least we didn’t…”

The team leader stood up from his seat and walked about the room.

“As we’ve identified that interstellar slave markets are a source of victims for the Akbaa cultists, we will be working on infiltrating rings in a series of long term undercover investigative operations. Yet not from a perspective which is already taken care of by our colleagues, but rather from a perspective of trying to identify smuggling patterns, sources of origin and points of destination of slaves destined to be sold to Akbaa cultists within the Empire,” the team leader said.

“You will undergo due training before being assigned off world in various roles. If you have any reservations because of this, this is the point of no return. You either volunteer for the mission, or you walk out before you get to know too much more. I’ll need your signatures on mission assignment by tomorrow morning if you volunteer. Think about it over night, this is not a decision to be taken lightly.”

The team leader crossed his arms on his chest.

“End of briefing, dismissed.”

[Tarasovka]

Of the Watchers in the Deep

A polite dispatch to allies most esteemed

Along with the Empire’s exponentially growing expansion into the Galaxy came certain logistical issues that required a very particular approach. Among such issues were the ILUISA and the TRIPWIRE from respectively Menelmacar and Sunset, along with their derivatives and analogs and comparable set ups from other nations.

A polite message was dispatched by the Taraskovyan Empire to her most treasured and esteemed allies in the Eternal Ascendancy of Menelmacar and the Republic of Sunset. The content of the message, written in usual polite and honorific Taraskovyan diplomatic fashion, followed the general lines:

1) The allies were reassured that as allies of the Empire they had due visibility through proper alliance channels in the same fashion as the Empire had due visibility on her allies through the same alliance channels

2) The allies were thanked for their consideration in avoiding known Taraskovyan systems for the deployment of their “remote alert set ups”

3) It was understood that it could not be understood well in advance which systems Taraskovya would claim in advance, as such the presence of such “remote alert set ups” in such systems was of course fully understood

4) The Taraskovyan Empire would be dismantling all “remote alert set ups” in systems under her protection and mantle, regardless of whether they were from allied states or not, in the present and in the future, in line with the extension of the Taraskovyan mantle to new systems

5) The most esteemed allies from the Eternal Ascendancy of Menelmacar and the Republic of Sunset, if applicable, could recover any "set up components" identified as belonging to them at either of the Logistical Relay Points (LRPs) assigned to this project that were the LRPs Trun, Bad Ragaz, Trin, Laax, Silenen, Muolathal, Bisisthal in the void of interstellar space or provide for different recovery arrangements if so preferable, the Empire was of course open to any due arrangements

6) The allies of course had the necessary approach vectors and verification processes to access these LRPs in an orderly and friendly fashion

7) It was understood that any "set up components" that would not be identified as allied would be disposed of in a responsible manner

After all, Taraskovyans were quite responsible people giving due regard to their friends and allies, but of course very often giving little regard to those who were neither friends, nor allies.

And the Empire had full and sufficient technological capability to ensure that areas under its mantle were firmly so and without the undue and unwanted presence of foreign observers.

[Tarasovka]

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Of the Poisoned Rose of Praksa
2

Skies above Praksa, Dominion of Praksa, Taraskovyan Empire

This particular conference meeting of scientists working on studying all things about Praksa, from the local inhabitants, to their believed creators and the flora and fauna on the planet, was led by Professor Alexei Musin-Pushkin. Reputed as the most knowledgeable expert on all matters Praksan, the Professor was also the official leader of all research activities on Praksa and its entire dual-star system Praksa-Prima-et-Secunda that consisted of two stars, seventeen planets and numerous satellites, asteroid belts and other astrological objects. In such a fashion that in fact the main star Praksa-Prima had along its orbit eleven of the planets, with Praksa-Secunda orbiting a center of mass with Praksa-Prima perpendicular to the plane formed by the eleven planets, trailing with it the remaining six planets. The planet “Praksa” itself being the fourth planet oribiting Praksa-Prima.

Professor Musin-Pushkin was the was the scientific leader, his mission organized under the TNDF’s umbrella and under a contract with the Ministry of Defence. Quite eccentric, relatively young (given the long lifespan of Ros). He expected his name in Latin script to be written as Alexis Moussine-Pouchkine in the French-language spelling, he always wore a bowtie, waistcoat, stylish shirt and pants in steam-punk style. His personal augment station was built in the fashion of stylish steampunk goggles. A golden chain served to fix a pocket watch that was, aside from being an actual pocket watch, a very powerful device useful to store data, visualizations, served as a projection device and could also perform a myriad of tasks proper to the endless imagination of Professor Moussine-Pouchkine. His portrayal would be incomplete without his facial hair reminding one of the classical Russian writer Anton Pavlovich Chekhov.

“Most esteemed colleagues,” the Professor was always very polite and official in his dealings with is colleagues. Even friends were always addressed in the polite plural address in Ros, with the first name and patronymic. And those people that did not have a patronymic would anyway receive one, such was the style of the Professor. “It has now been established beyond any shadow of a doubt, thanks in no small part to additional funding through the Ministry of Defence that allowed to centuple our research effort in this system over the past years, that our initial assumptions have unforgivingly perdured for far too long that the planet Praksa-Prima-Four, commonly known as Praksa which we have the honour to call home for the duration of our assignments, was the homeworld of the Proto-Praksans, such assumptions having no base or foundation in science or facts, proven by research.”

The Empire spent quite an effort on making sure Praksa was under efficient quarantine, quite a few resources were spent on researching the Praksan "hambils" and the various local flora and fauna for medical and other applied sciences. Yet, it was true that for quite a while the Empire spent only marginal effort at best at researching the history of Praksa itself, staying away from going much deeper in the star systems history. It took the Professor some time and effort of his own before he finally could reach some decision making persons himself, one of them being none else than His Serene Highness the Duke Mstivoy of the Imperial Blood, himself an Admiral with the TNDF, and also a member of the ruling Shakhovskoy-Karetsah Dynasty.

Certain budgetary and contractual arrangements later and indeed, scientific activity in Praksa-Prima-et-Secunda had centupled throughout the entire system. Three dimensional projections in the room showed various texts, demonstrations of objects, maps of the planet highlighting known locations of Proto-Praksans, footage of various works performed.

“We have been unable to find any traces of any Proto-Praksan evolutionary history on this planet, not a single cultural layer, except those left that indicated an already very advanced civilization on this planet,” the Professor continued. “Furthermore, new resources and funds have allowed to prove beyond any doubt that this planet had been artificially transformed to be capable of hosting life, and every single living creature on this planet cannot be considered native and is placed well outside any evolutionary chain that can be extrapolated by applying science. The evolutionary changes happened at the time of major artificially induced climatic changes that resulted from the application of technological means. As such, evolutionary chains can be followed up only from the point of introduction of species to the planet. Whether such flora and fauna was artificially created or implanted and adapted to local realities remains open to debate and further research is required into this. We have not yet located similar specimens anywhere else in the Galaxy".

The other scientists nodded along. This meeting was a recapitulation of what they already knew after years of research. In fact, the only ones for whom this meeting was in fact held, were the representatives of the TNDF and of the Ministry of Defence, also seated in the conference room. This whole spectacle was for their eyes and ears. Virtual eyes and ears, as the military brass was present through projection avatars, being themselves located very far and beyond from the research airship.

“Everything indicates that the Proto-Praksans used this planet as a testing polygon for research and development. Everything indicates that Proto-Praksans abandoned this planet and he entire Praksa-Prima-et-Secunda system in a well-organized and orderly fashion. It is, therefore, scientifically no longer correct to call them Proto-Praksans for their link to this planet is no longer evolutionary founded, no more would it be correct to refer to humans as Proto-Praksans as we came here during this stage in the planet’s history,” the Professor stated quite categorically.

“Further discoveries are far more troubling, however, and the present meeting shall recapitulate research and reports already drawn by our teams. Much time was lost by lack of resources, material and funds, yet now we have the capacity required to deliver tangible and actionable results,” the Professor continued. “Results of scientific research, founded in facts and corroborated by evidence, has far reaching consequences that will require action on the part of the Empire and her agencies to ensure to continued efficiency of the Imperial Mantle over Praksa-Prima-et-Secunda.”

And so, after such introduction the report itself began, as the government officials took in in every word, cruising through text, images, projections, forecasts and recommendations.

Also leaning in were a pair of Solntseskhod scientists that recently joined the research works after a request by the Republic to the Empire to share in the potential research on Praksa. Allied scientists themselves being physically present, after having received all Taraskovyan security clearences and relocated to the planet for their assignment.

[Tarasovka]

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Of Rites Old and Never Forgotten
4

Undisclosed Location of the Imperial Criminal Investigative Service, Taraskovyan Empire

It was a rather sleepless night for Captain Helena Dyakova as she stared into the ceiling of her room, thinking over the events of the past few days. Well, she was not exactly staring into the ceiling, she was in fact looking into the projections of various footages, reports and case studies in front of her.

She thought back to the reasons that led her to apply to the Imperial Criminal Investigative Service, to seek assignment specifically with the secretive “Task Force Akbaa” within the ICIS. She was not the perfect protagonist hero from a space opera. She did not lose her family to some enemy she was seeking vengeance on. In fact, her family was doing very well, all were healthy, all were happy. Neither did her friends suffer at the hands of the cultists. In fact, she never had any direct confrontation with the Cult before her assignment to TF “Akbaa”.

Why then? What drove her? What was the real reason behind this drive?

She thought back to her days with the Feldgendarmerie, where she enforced Imperial Order among the ranks of the Taraskovyan National Defence Forces. She remembered that one case she investigated of wrong doing by an officer from the Security & Quarantine Forces posted on some distant colonial planet that decided to run a brothel staffed with foreigners form outside the Empire. Now, brothels were legal in Taraskovya, they were regulated and staff at such avenues had to organize themselves into cooperatives and follow clear rules.

Illegal brothels, on the other hand, were quite obviously not allowed. Working conditions could not be ascertained, tax payments could not be ascertained, nothing could be certain. And, as such, the Empire treated such ventures as illegal slave trade.

That particular case ended up in an arrest led by the Captain herself. There were no fancy shootout scenes, no high-thrill assault by a specialist team. No, the Captain led a team of “heavies” (as assault teams were called on police missions) into the office of the local SQF division, went to the particular office of that particular officer, read him his rights and led away he was.

There was no adrenaline rush, no stress, it was routine. She routinely freed exploited souls, she routinely ensured sufficient evidence to routinely put a criminal behind bars. And she loved that. This was where she saw her purpose.

Would this assignment be as routine? Most likely not.

But making sure that somewhere out there a soul would not suffer because of the malignity of others was a sufficient motivation.

And so she called up the “assignment papers”, the term “paper” being simply an old style reference to now electronic documents. Papers were a thing of the past, everything was digital. One could no longer theatrically rip up a document saying “Doesn’t look like your signature to me!” Decisions, after all, had consequences one was responsible for.

She read the papers through, line by line, word by word, several times. Sinking information into her brain. She did not need to read several times, she just did it to start immersing herself into her upcoming assignment. She understood the risks. She saw the opportunities. She made her decision, she would be responsible for the consequences.

And then she waved her hand, the system verified her personal check-sum (a combination of factors genetical, morphological, brainwave and others that made sure that even a 100% clone would have a different check-sum in the system) and signed off the assignment papers. The papers were immediately processed, for there was no longer such a thing as processing only during some arbitrary business hours.

Helena still had some time ahead of her to catch some accelerated sleep to allow her brain to refresh before the next day. Because on the next day, she would begin a new life. And maybe do something good for the universe.

[Tarasovka]

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Of Things Far Out, Shysh Far Out
2

TNDF “Svyazhsk”, Undisclosed location, Organised Shysh Space, Shysh Sector, Far Away Outskirts of the Milky Way Galaxy

“And it is confirmed through the aforementioned research that the Feral Shysh are not sapient creatures,” a young scientist called Vasily Orlov briefed the audience, virtual as it was, on the results of the research conducted by Taraskovyan scientists into the Feral Shysh. “Shysh… babies… that hatched into the wild and outside of civilized society grow up into non-sapient creatures.”

“This is explained by the fact that whilst Shysh are self-sufficient from day one since hatching and may survive in the open, they become sapient creatures by passing certain stages in their life if this life happens in a sapient society,” the scientist continued. “Their brains shape up to be those of sapient beings during these stages, following triggers set off during very early childhood. Deprived of these triggers, the Shysh remain primitive beings. They will never ever naturally gain sapiency and will be comparable to numerous social animal species that may band into herds or packs, yet they will not, under any circumstance, establish a society.”

“The Collapse, a the Shysh refer to it, broke up the fabric of society as the Shysh knew it back then. Combined with their mandatory reproductory cycle, numerous specimens were left outside of all and any society, growing into primitive creatures,” Vasily continued. “These Ferals in turn reproduced. Demonstrating predator characteristics, often aggressive, these Feral populations took over entire planets and drove out Civilized Shysh from numerous worlds in the Forlorn systems. For an adult individual, the process is non-reversible. However, Feral babies collected and grown up in a society will become sapient Shysh and will be indistinguishable from the regular Shysh.”

“Pan Professor, pardon my interruption, but do I understand correctly that the Shysh may at one stage just go out completely Feral, or is there a possibility to become sapient by growing up in alien societies?” the Duke Mstivoy intervered.

“Excellent question, Your Serene Highness, we do not believe that growing up in alien societies will transform the Shysh into sapients. The triggers appear to be specifically Shysh-based, requiring a working Shysh society to self-sustain sapiency. Deprived of this, yes, the Shysh run the risk of one day devolving into non-sapient ferals,” the scientist confirmed. “The irreversible consequences happen from the very first generation. A baby left unattended in the wild will grow into a Feral. It does not require continues reproduction.”

“This is counter-intuitive from an evolutionary standpoint, wouldn’t the organism adapt to such eventualities, or at least require numerous generations to devolve?” another member of the virtual attendance asked, incredulous.

“Usually, yes, but in the specific case of the Shysh, this is not so. It is a theory that they were artificially elevated to sapiency a long time ago, yet the process was not fully controlled. Unfortunately, we lack source data from their Homeworld, as they call it, for no information remains after the Collapse and the Homeworld is yet to be identified in the Remnant Space,” Vasily Orlov said, referring to the ‘fog of war covered’ area of space where once the mighty Shysh Empire existed, before collapsing. Organised Shysh Space and the Forlorn Systems, as they were called, were only a portion of the former Empire. “We will of course continue to research the origins of the Shysh and try to understand them better, extrapolating what data we may.”

“Thank you, Pan Professor,” the Duke Mstivoy nodded.

“Furthermore, gentlemen and ladies,” the scientist continued, “adult Ferals may be returned to sapience through medical means. We understand that during the days of the Empire, the Shysh had such medical technology. It was lost during the Collapse.”

“And do we have this technology, Professor?”

“Actually, we do. Would require some tweaking and adaptation to Shysh specifics, but overall we could conduct non-invasive medical interventions to lift the Ferals back up to Sapience. Of course, this does not resolve the issue of social education, skills, knowledge and all other matters that would require a different approach. Lifting a Feral back up to sapience will not immediately make it into a member of the Shysh Society. Their brains would still be impacted by years upon years of Feral life, of the relevant dietary regimes, lifestyle and experiences,” the Professor concluded. “It would require a complex and comprehensive system to return the Ferals to sapience. There is also the separate issue of morals and ethics that has to be considered in undertaking such an endeavour. As well as the sensibilities of the Shysh themselves, who might not appreciate us studying them and modifying them to what appears would be our best understanding.”

[Tarasovka]

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Of the Watchers in the Deep
3

CD-DSR-46/ML/293 System, Somewhere Out There in the Universe

Captain Peter Verzilov of the Chief Directorate for Deep Space Reconaissance, a “Watcher in the Deep”, positioned his Parkan X-35 “reconnaissance cruiser” in "optimal vision range" of the gigantic space object the size of a gas giant that was located straight in the gravitational middle of CD-DSR-46/ML/293’s two stars. The star system's structure was already quite curious and peculiar, so even without this discovery it would've been filed for further scientific study.

And then the object itself was somewhat particular. The CD-DSR uncovered numerous space objects and traces of civilisations long gone, not including objects belonging to civilisations still existing. It was rather routinely common, in fact, just as ruins of old were common on Earth, so were ruins of old common in the infinity of space. Yet this one was simply not detected by the Parkan’s equipment. In fact, it was spotted by the Captain by sheer accident as he took a flyby one of the stars to let his reconnaissance cruiser collect stellar plasma bursting out to recharge the energy supplies aboard the vessel. By pure luck at this particular moment the pilot looked out the cockpit and saw a speckle in the light of one of the other stars. After eliminating eye failure or any dirt or dust on his visor or cockpit, the Captain directed his sensory equipment and swept through the area, locating nothing. According to his ship, there was nothing. A zoom in from observation cameras led to nothing, clearly showing that there was no speckle. A zoom in from his visor showed nothing. Yet, with his bare eyes, he could clearly see something.

Intrigued, the pilot directed his spacecraft in the direction of the object, opened all armor screens on his cockpit and stared with his eyes into the far distance. He had to completely disconnect his visor’s augmentations, for any simple filter would immediately erase the speckle from his view, and he had to keep flying into the light of one of the stars, because otherwise the object would become invisible against the black background of space.

The Parkan X-35 did not pick up anything, except movement into the gravitational center of the system. No threat, no danger, and yet still no object. The pilot sent off a message back to the CD-DSR, his communications remaining fully open and unhindered. He imagined the face of the officers back at CD-DSR when they saw a report stating that the pilot was observing an object with bare eyes, the object being not detected by any other equipment. So, there was no data to analyze, nothing, only the description provided by the pilot.

The “Watcher in the Deep” understood clearly that what he was doing could be dangerous. As his spacecraft was not able to analyze the object he was approaching, there was no way to understand whether it was dangerous or not, inert or active. However, he still took the risk, being one of those pilots that cared not for his own life. And as he was the only crew aboard the Parkan, so was he only responsible for himself.

As the X-35 maneuvered into position within eyesight of the object, yet still a considerable distance away, the pilot did another scan of the area, picking up nothing. No gravity, no optics, no temperature, no magnetic waves, no dark matter, no radiation, no Khnychev-Korsakorsky waves, nothing. He deployed observation drones, that picked up nothing. Only his own eyes were picking it up. The pilot positioned the reconnaissance cruiser in between the gravitational pools of the nearest stars and opened up a graphic tool to put down the results of the observation to have at least something in the meantime.

Whether he went mad from all the months in solitary exploration or whether he did indeed uncover something interesting remained to be seen. It could have been a hallucination. But if he did go mad, then at least one thing was certain, his imagination was extremely rich as it painted the picture in front of him. What was more probable, however, was that the object was simply cloaking itself in a very efficient manner that outwitted the Parkan's sensory equipment. And since the X-35's sensory equipment was extremely advanced, this could mean that the cloaking technology was either more efficient, or more advanced than what the reconaissance cruiser had installed. It was also possible that a Taraskovyan ship with more efficient "decloaking" equipment would be able to observe and study the object. However, this was only speculative on the part of the "Watcher" and maybe somewhat above his paygrade, because it was obvious he did not have access to all the technology the Taraskovyan Empire had at its disposal.

Moreover, the X-35 itself was, as all reconaissance cruisers, always masking its own signatures and effectively cloaking away from potentially hostile sensors. It was sufficient for the tasks at hand, yet it was obvious that some sensors would be able to pick the signatures up, while many others would fail. It was the usual game of "find and detect" which never ended.

After some time not so long, he got a message back from CD-DSR stating that additional “Watchers” were being rerouted to his position to confirm or deny his findings. Until then, the "incident" was classified as "strictly confidential". Of course, given how everything about CD-DSR was "strictly confidential", this was rather routinely common.

And if the discovery was objectively confirmed by other "watchers", a proper CD-DSR scientific detachment would follow.

It was, of course, far above the Captain's paygrade to know that he was not the first one to locate something of the kind. It was, moreover, not the most outstanding and curious piece of alien artifact out there.

[Tarasovka]

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Of the Phantoms of the Future
3

Belosvyazhsk, planet Lonessie, Imperial Dominion of Lonessie-Zaloka, Taraskovyan Empire

The door to the private study of His Most August Highness the Vasilevitch Alexander Basil Constantine of Taraskovya opened and a uniformed adjutant stepped in, clicked his heels together and brought his right hand to his forehead in salute.

“Her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Vethara of Taraskovya in attendance, Your Most August Highness!” the adjutant reported.

“Thank you, may my aunt please enter,” the young man, in his late twenties and dressed in the uniform of a Captain 2nd Rank of the Stellar Fleet Arm of the Taraskovyan National Defence Forces, stood up from behind his work desk and stepped to greet the woman as she entered.

“Your Most August Highness,” Vethara, wearing a comfortable casual suit with pants and high-heel shoes, said with a slight inclination of her head in a sign of respect proper to two Taraskovyan scions of the Shakhovskoy-Karetsah saluting each other. “It is an honour and a pleasure!”

“Your Imperial Highness,” Alexander said, mirroring her inclination with one of his own. “I assure you the pleasure is mine to host you in my halls.”

As the adjutant stepped out and the doors automatically shut behind him, Alexander grinned and hugged his aunt, the woman returning the hug in a more family like greeting. The intricacies of clinical immortality of the Tarathian genes, which were dominant over the regular human ones, made it so that the heir to the Taraskovyan throne and his aunt many decades his senior looked both overall the same age.

“Alex, have been some time since I saw you in flesh and bones,” Vethara noted, avoiding the use of the shortened version of Sasha, which Alexander hated with all his soul. “Communications now being mostly interstellar.”

“Aunt, indeed, you are correct. Happy to finally welcome you to my private little demesne,” Alexander said, inviting his aunt to sit by the coffee table that was surrounded by several comfortable armchairs. “I have invited you a sufficienty long time ago!”

“You would have had better luck issuing a summons,” the woman grinned as she did not sit down, but instead walked up to a shelf displaying some of the young man’s heirlooms.

There it was, a box of pastel blue eggshell surface , with a depiction of the greek goddesses Athena and Metis discussing something. The woman moved up to it, opened it and smiled as she saw the green metal tablet of necrontyr knowledge in it.

“I remember this one, you were just born, and your Father passed this through all the possible and unimaginable scans and analysis. From the Order of Zynthris to the Taraskovyan Academy of Sciences passing by military intelligence,” she said, clearly reminiscent of times gone by, very good times gone by. “He even brought in the Segments and the Solntseskhod, their best ones, to make sure it wasn’t some brainhacking device that would subdue the heir to the Taraskovyan crown to the will of Ranisath.”

“Can’t blame him,” Alexander shrugged. “Have to be careful with things coming from one nicknamed the Deceiver.”

The two smirked at the jest before the young man continued.

“Father had reasons to be suspicious, given your own relationship with the Deceiver,” Alexander suddenly said, giving his aunt a piercing look with a cunning grin on his lips.

But Vethara simply arched an eyebrow back at the young crown prince, clearly unphased by his attempt at a pique. She has seen worse and could deal with worse, the boy before her having yet much to learn.

“Day after day I'm being told the same —
'You wanna run, but you can't take even a step',
I didn't happen to take the easiest way —
I wouldn't win if I hadn't been making mistakes”

She looked back at the young man, and even being less in height than him, her gaze was sufficient to demonstrate superiority.

“This is definitely not a subject a nephew wants to discuss with his aunt, and most certainly not something an aunt discusses with her nephew,” Vethara closed the box and stepped away from the shelf before turning back to her nephew and smiling pleasantly. “Now, how are your studies progressing?”

The young man nodded in acknowledgement of the fact that his little pique failed and carried on with the change in conversation.

“Productive,” Alexander said pensively. “I suggest we step outside, I only use this study for formal greetings. Do not need a desk to work.”

He motioned his hand and a whole plethora of information and data became visualized in front of them in three dimensions.

“Who needs desks nowadays anyway?” the young man shrugged, and the visualization disappeared.

He reached out his arm to offer it to his aunt, who nodded in acknowledgement, put her arm around his and the two went outside the study onto a terrace, from which steps would take them down past Leib Guards and down onto a promenade. Yet, the particularity of the Vasilevitch’es Palace in Belosvyazhsk was that it mimicked in a way the Winter Palace back in Vigvar. Located on a tall plateau, a cliff dropping down from right under the promenade and the futuristic low floor white city of Belosvyazhsk glittering in the local sun. Very reminiscent of the way Vigvar overlooked the Bay of Swords back on Earth.

“When children grow up, they get their own flats. You went with something a bit more ambitious,” Vethara said with a smile

“Father decided that managing my own corner of the Empire would allow me to gain invaluable skills that would one day serve me. So, I combine this with my ongoing education, with a third diploma soon to be obtained, this time in Interstellar Financial Management,” the young man said pensively as he looked out towards the glistening city below them. “It’s quite convenient, a real difference from the military academy which I followed first, this could hardly be done remotely. But this is all small talk, we all understand given the circumstances I will be as good as Maglor in waiting endlessly for my turn. So I might as well use the time efficiently."

"I could introduce the two of you and you could start a club," came the time for Vethara's own pique against her nephew.

"Quite an excellent jest, aunt, I applaud your sense of humour," the heir to the Taraskovyan throne smirked and shook his head. "Now, this is all small talk. Pray, let me show you something we are all working on.”

The Vasilevitch stopped, letting his aunt remove her arm and then gestured his hands in the air again, conjuring up a visualization in front of them showing shipyards in orbit over one of the planets of the system, busy constructing capital ships. For the unaware observer, it would seem as if the two were staring into an empty spot in front of them, as the visualization was hidden from unaware observers, shared only between the aunt and nephew.

“We’ve been expanding the local TNDF Theatre, which is for all intents and purposes under the authority of Fieldmarshal Anton Dolohov,” the young man said, “but quite obviously is intended yet again as a means for me to try myself out at strategic planning. And not getting on the nerves of battlehardened veterans.”

Vethara remembered that name well, for the now Fieldmarshal Dolohov was the one who became known for liberally interpreting an order of her brother to stay away from a major hostile engagement in Mars orbit, yet moved his forced into the fray, helping to save numerous lives of nations that were not even allied to the Empire. Many people thought that the then General-in-Chief’s career had ended, yet decades later he was still promoted to the rank of Fieldmarshal and entrusted another Theatre. Of course, being under the informal authority of the heir to the throne might be a rather peculiar way for a career to develop, but all considered that the war forged Fieldmarshal and the young Vasilevitch got along well together.

“Familiar designs, yet surely with a twist, knowing you?” Vethara said, arching her eyebrow.

“Indeed,” Alexander nodded. The visualization switched to a distant star, with numerous icons representing automated Taraskovyan systems busily constructing a swarm around the stellar body. “We already collect stellar matter and plasma to power our weapons systems, ships, production facilities, to produce basic materials of all kinds, so this is not something completely new in a sense. We also know how to destabilize stars. What we want to test, however, is exploding stars to collect the resulting plasma and matter. This will be the trial area. And the ships we’ve built will be used as prototypes to kick start the process and withstand the impact of the explosion within the immediate vicinity of the star. The swarms and the vessels will collect matter, plasma, analyze the results of the impact, the efficiency of the process. Simulations are promising, but we’d prefer empiric tests to confirm and identify gaps to fill. With automated systems and ships, of course, we’re not putting living beings there for the first trial runs.”

The visualization vanished as Vethara stood speechless for several seconds. “It is as if your brother is preparing for something, either offensive or defensive. Something huge. And I mean, really huge,” the words came up in her mind heard not so long ago.

“We are in a bubble, right?” she finally uttered, referring to a means to keep secret things secret from all but the interlocutors sharing information. Taraskovyans no longer needed physical walls to keep things secret, for the magic of technology made many things possible.

“Of course, nothing gets out,” Alexander nodded, for it was obvious that the security around the Vasilevitch was tight and, indeed, nothing got out even to a distant observer using reflected light the image would just be unreadable. “The yards are also disruptively concealed. Of course, does not prevent those who wish to find out from finding out if they really put an effort into it, but makes life extremely difficult for them.”

Vethara looked at her nephew pensively. “The Vasilevs did not speak to me about such a project,” she added. “Then again, not that I actually asked and I am far from the military chain of command.”

“We have certain ideas,” Alexander shrugged as the two continued their walk. “They are not exactly new in the universe and others are just as capable of destabilizing stars as we are.”

The woman remained pensive, looking over the balustrade as a flock of local birds flew by. Life went on, the universe kept expanding, somewhere someone surely broke a nail, somebody someplace was doing groceries and right there a young man was preparing to blow up a couple stars simply because he found it useful.

Life just always goes on.

[Tarasovka]

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Of Politics and Shenanigans
2

One day in the life of the Imperial Veche

The Imperial Veche de facto became a distributed legislative assembly with its members reuniting in the Northwind Palace in Vigvar only for the opening sessions of each Veche Yearly Convocation. The organ has long since moved into the decentralized remote space where legislators discussed matters and voted laws remotely through extremely secure and verified safety networks that made sure the will of the Imperial Veche and, through it, of the Taraskovyan People was unhindered. The fact that the Northwind palace was often mostly empty of legislators made many wonder whether the Veche needed at all to be anchored to a fixed building somewhere or not.

That particular day of that particular year was to be mostly another day in the work of the Imperial Veche, if it was not for the upcoming disengagement of the Taraskovyan Empire from the Treaty of Oosterbeek, allying Taraskovya with Pantocratoria, Knootoss and Excalbia. It was not an unexpected move, it was something discussed for quite a while, discussed in the media and in the corridors of power. It was discussed between the four states party to the treaty. It was a well expected decision understood by and signed up to by all.

Furthermore, the umbilical cord between the Taraskovyan Empire and the Abt Republic, a nation founded by Taraskovyan republican emigrés in the Western Atlantic was finally severred with the severance of the Treaty of Oosterbeek, the Republic long since having established herself as a viable player on the regional scene and militarily competent after the outstanding performance of the Abt Republic Defence Forces in the war in Iesus Christi.

It did not make the breaking news and it did not make the top news. Everybody understood that, all while continuously friendly to the three nations, and with the Vasilessa of Taraskovya being a Pantocratorian Princess, Taraskovya was simply drifting away to places where the Western Atlantic would never go. Taraskovyan policy continued to somewhat be influenced by the close relationship between the Utharian-speaking minority and their linguistic cousins in Knootoss (albeit with quite a few hurdles, such as the disagreement on whether Utharian and Knootian Dutch were a single language or different languages), by the fact that the Vasilessa was Pantocratorian (and, thus, relations with the Free Kingdom of Allanea were continuosly suspended and the nation shunned over its incessant trolling of the Vasilessa's own twin sister and her family). But in the grand scheme of things, these were very minor points, quantitatively representing only the fraction of a single percent of everything going on with Taraskovya and in the greater beyond.

The Western Atlantic was an organism of its own that was heading its own direction. And the Empire was on its own course. If need arose, Taraskovya could quite quickly return to the region. Yet forecasts were unanimous in advising that the probability of such a need arising was infinitely close to zero.

On that day, the Imperial Senate voted in a Statute already previously voted in by the Imperial Duma, confirming Taraskovya’s disengagement from the Treaty of Oosterbeek within the timefrimes provided by the Treaty and in line with the all the requirements and responsibilities. In the explanatory note, the Taraskovyan Empire recognized its close relationship with the three Western Atlantic countries, reiterated the continued good relationships and ensured Imperial support should such be required.

The Statute, voted into Imperial Order, was then filed off to the Imperial Veche Council for final vetting against any veto by the Vasilevs himself. But everybody understood that obviously no veto would follow and the disengagement effectively began at Earth time midnight of the day it was adopted.

[Tarasovka]

OOC: Base format shamelessly stolen from Macisikan’s excellent maintenance thread. And enriched with Taraskovyan flavor, given how information is a freely shared commodity.

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News and Random Events
1

.T. .I. .G. .R. Taraskovyan Informational Galactic Repository. Your one stop window to billions of feeds. Repository InfoTicker: Taraskovyan Events – Taraskovyan Broadcasters - Vigvar Standard Time – Taraskovyan Calendar InfoTicker: TNEW | Rating at 00.00 VST Previous Day: ▲ 3.0525% | InfoTicker Managed By: TIGR LATEST UPDATES – FIRST PUBLISHER - VST 19.10.1199 A.S.: TNN – 11:25 VST: Vasilevs'es Winter Palace and the Lorelei Palace confirm HIH Grand Duchess Vethara was considered as a candidate for the position of Imperial Chancellor. Lorelei Palace confirms HIH Grand Duchess excluded herself from the candidates list and does not consider this option. HIH Grand Duchess has previously resigned as Chairwoman of Imperial Veche Council citing the need for new blood in the higher echelons of Imperial power. Current Imperial Chancellor, HHE Chancellor Anna Muraviev-Apostol, confirms discussing with Winter Palace on constitutional amendment allowing the Imperial Veche to vote in the Chancellor. HHE Chancellor and HIH Grand Duchess credited with efficiently driving the process of Imperial Reforms on the Executive and Legislative level. | SPIN-OFF: 130’522’123 (Drill-Down) TNN – 11:48 VST: Disengagement from Oosterbeek confirmed by Imperial Veche Council. | SPIN-OFF: 60’522’123 (Drill-Down) TNN – 14:38 VST: Imperial Veche clears in principle further administrative reform of the Empire and expansion of the Realms to stellar Dominions. Number of Realms set to expand, with numerous stellar Dominions in line for the change in status. Allocation of votes for the Handalarian Lordships to reform on individual basis per Lordship.| SPIN-OFF: 104’582’293 (Drill-Down) ICAS - 14:41 VST: Interstellar colonial expansion to continue to be "Realm-neutral" with Imperial oversight that Realms and larger Dominions do not create de facto ethnic colonies under their own umbrella. The overall goal being to avoid creation of kin-specific stellar systems and encourage mixing of the Empire's various kins in the interstellar colonial domains. | SPIN-OFF: 305'238'123 (Drill-Down) NGNB – 15:12 VST: TNDF deployment to border with Laconian Republic aimed at containing collaterals, no impact on New Gardarikan affairs. | SPIN-OFF: 1’635’292 (Drill-Down) TNDF – 16:38 VST: Reminder of the quarantine of Praksa-Prima-et-Secunda system enforced. Civilian traffic not permitted beyond heliopause. For rest & repair, ships to direct to LRPs Zuzwil and Oberuzwil. Beyond LRP approach vectors only authorized transit and travel are permitted. | SPIN-OFF: 2’126’328 (Drill-Down) TEASN – 16:39 VST: Assembly Broad and Wide (Shysh Organised Space) approves introduction of specifically tailored bio-synthetic intellects. Shysh historically known to religiously oppose A.I. technology following the Collapse of their Empire hundreds of Earth years ago. BSIs tailored to respect Shysh Hierarchy's requirements on the Creed. Expected to multiply Shysh Organised Space economic and military output.| SPIN-OFF: 21’582’293 (Drill-Down) [...] Trending InfoTickers Today: CMGN ▲ 1.91% | TNEX ▲ 2.16% | TLET ▲ 1.74% | PONT ▲4.65% | GNEW ▲1.39% | GNEX ▲1.39% | STNEX ▲2.11% | STNEW ▲1.76% | TNDF ▲3.26% […] Unwinding InfoTickers Today: SOGS ▼ 4.12 |MTNEX ▼ 1.23 | TEEX ▼3.45 | TONKS ▼2.55 | SRIN ▼2.18 | NGMN ▼1.25 | DUUH ▼25.25 | [...] ©Taraskovyan Informational Galactic Repository Taraskovyan Informational Galactic Repository (TIGR) – License #42. Regulated under the “Imperial Statue on Freedom and Accessibility of Information”.

[Tarasovka]

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Of Rites Old and Never Forgotten
5

The Hidden Moon Kyupuu, Beyond the Auracexian Sector, Orion Arm

Shaolla “Star Vagabond” Berker, citizen of the Infinite Star Republic of Gorezloplach, a space faring nation with Napoleonic amibitions to rule over infinite stars, yet currently hardly controlling even its own system. It was far too small to be noticed, far too irrelevant to conquer, far too away from anything interesting and, thus, a perfect source for a credible legend.

It was of course known only to a very limited number of persons that Gorezloplach was genuinely created as a genuine nation by the undercover work of a certain intelligence agency of a certain Empire a long time ago, through shady commercial colonization ventures driven by endless shell companies overlapping into each other like a box full of snakes. And it was only but one of a web of such spacefaring nations created as if a web woven by an invisible Imperial spider, hidden out of sight, playing strings as and when necessary.

Indeed, the most credible legends were those founded in facts, the best scapegoats were ones with actual motives and the best stories were woven in something tangible, rather than virtual.

Shaolla was the apotheosis of a wet dream of a cyberpunk artist, with prosthetic augmentations glowing in all the neon colours of the rainbow protruding from her face, a quick remote medical scan revealing numerous prosthetics and augmentations in her limbs. It was all very credible and Shaolla made the impression of somebody who’s been through a lot and who was also capable of many a thing, not necessarily pleasant to others.

Yet it was a ploy, a cover for her mission. Her legend would come through as completely genuine to all except the most advanced intelligence agencies of the most advanced polities of the Galaxy, her medical scans would confirm her cyborg-like nature with cybernetic augments. Yet should she fall into the hands of her enemies and they’d decide to cut her up, then of course her captors would cut through flesh and bones, for it would be difficult to maintain the legend in such circumstances. But Shaolla’s mission statement was specifically foreseen to not fall into such a predicament.

Her real name was unknown to any on the moon except to herself. To those who needed to know, including Taraskovya’s allies that made her insertion possible, she was known as Milvus migrans primo.

Indeed, Kyupuu’s slave market was well known throughout the galaxy, attracting numerous buyers and sellers. Shaolla’s mission statement was to act as a buyer, or more specifically a broker or agent, procuring goods as desired by her clients. She haggled well, bartered where necessary, drove just the right kind of discussion with sellers and overall built herself up a great reputation on the market. With a longer term goal to be known on other markets and be able to network and branch out as necessary.

And while doing her business, she always kept an eye out for buyers dealing in slaves falling under the very profile sought by the Cultists of Akbaa for their sacrificial rituals. According to intelligence gathered, the cultists were particularly keen for young human males and females, and were also even more fond of elvish young males and females. She did not intervene in the business, observing simply from a distance and exchanging innocent words with sellers and others on the market, feigning regret at how she missed out on a marvelous shipment, collecting information, gathering, processing, analyzing.

Star Vagabond tagged the buyers for follow up, which was done by other layers of the operation set up by Task Force “Akbaa” of the Imperial Criminal Investigative Service. Shaolla’s own job was rather routine and did not involve that much of advanced technology, yet she was a valuable gear in a complex mechanism that worked day and night throughout the Galaxy.

Yet, so far all of her tags for follow ups came back with a simple five-word description: “Not Target Related. Carry On.”

And so she’d carry on. And what of the follow ups? Well, ships disappeared afterwards, accidents happened, slaver worlds were ravaged by pirates and opportunists. Space was and always will be a dangerous place.

It went without saying that slaves were in for a completely new life, with new legends and specific requirements and conditions to not undermine the operation as long as it lasted.

[Tarasovka]

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Of the Phantoms of the Future
4

Belosvyazhsk, planet Lonessie, Imperial Dominion of Lonessie-Zaloka, Taraskovyan Empire

"A nightclub, are you being serious?" Vethara arched an eyebrow as she stepped out of the shuttle that brought them to the VIP entrance to the 'Poludnitsa' club, the name referring to a rather malign spirit of Ros mythology. The club was the best known on Lonessie, the best in Lonessie-Zaloka and one of the best in all of the Taraskovyan Empire.

The Grand Duchess gave a glance back to Alexander as he also stepped out of the vehicle and extended both his arms out as if in a boasting fashion.

"Not just any club, aunt. It's the best club, because it's my club, and you know I had the best teachers in taste," the heir to the Taraskovyan throne gestured her to follow.

"I hope it is safe at least?" the woman asked a rhetorical question, to which one of her accompanying guards responded with an affirmative answer, having previously received the required information from his counterparts with the Vasilevitch'es security detail.

Furthermore, the local private security detail was fully under the oversight of the Elder Leibguard.

"Are nightclubs a good business, Alex?" She queried pensively as they were led in.

"Yes, very profitable, people have money, will happily spend. And money they have in no small part thanks to your time whipping Veche members into working efficiently," the young man nodded as he led them through the entrance, as club staff hurriedly opened the doors and let the party into a very spacious interior split into a lower dance floor area and several upper floor VIP areas overlooking the dance floors below. Despite the club being in a closed and roofed facility, there was no ceiling visible as the night sky above Lonessie shone directly on the dancing and partying people below.

Catchy and trendy music was playing quite loudly, yet it was not aggressive on the ears as the distributed audiosystems ensured an optimal cover in every corner of the club without need to be deafening in any one spot. Decorative lights and flashes proper to nightclubs were in place, yet did not disturb the eye too much. And over the dance floor, entertaining professional dancers were hovering in dances above the crowd.

As of the patrons, then it was obvious that they were all quite content with the atmosphere, the music, the fun. And despite all the technological progress, patrons themselves still thought that twitching in a sort of a sexy fashion more or less to the tune of the music was somehow considered dancing.

The Vasilevitch and the Grand Duchess arrived at a VIP table surrounded by comfortable seating that could also be just as well be comfortable laying. On their way the staff they passed lined up and bowed slightly to salute them, both out of respect for the Ruling Dynasty, as well as most likely out of a desire to make sure the Sole Shareholder's ego was pleased.

The table was already occupied by four young ladies, dressed in quite revealing outfits. The Grand Duchess, of course, was dressed extremely tastefully, even if casually and unofficially, without the need to reveal any of her assets in too open a fashion.

The young ladies gave a condescending gaze upon the Grand Duchess as they possibly did not recognize her immediately and initially saw her as competition to their little circle of interests. Then one of the mermaids, for they most clearly were mermaids in the Taraskovyan appellation of gold diggers, suddenly came to a realization that enlightened her mind with a terrifying thought, turning her big blue eyes round as perfect spheres, a feeling of shock on her face. She quickly leaned to her colleague and whispered something, the colleague's face adopting a similar expression and the domino effect continuing with the next mermaid, until all four hurriedly stood up from their comfortable sitting to perform a bow of courtesy.

"Your Imperial Highness! We were not expecting you! It is an honour to meet you!" came exclamations of adoration from the group, thrown in random order as each of the mermaids clearly trying to score the most points.

Vethara simply shrugged. "It is all good. I'm the good cop aunt," she said with a grin. "You want bad cop, you talk to his mother." She made a gesture from left to right with her fingers as if hinting that Helen would be far less open to communicating with them.

"Now, Ladies, let me just quickly show you something. Aunt, I'll be right back," Alexander said as he led the four women away.

Vethara sat down, leaning against the back of the couch, and stared at the sky above her. It was time for a quick sync up with a person light years away physically, yet always just a moment away by ways of a direct commslink.

>>V: Your son has just brought me to his nightclub with four of his mermaids.

>>M: Are the mermaids good?

The discussion did not happen in text, there was no voice in the background audible only to the Grand Duchess. Instead the content was simply just made clear in her mind. It had its limitations, since Taraskovyans were in general somewhat averse to modifying their bodies with augmentations, thus demanding more from their communications technology, as functions done by brain augments had to be carried out by external appliances. The limitation meant that the more complex the content, the more time the appliances would need to transfer them to the mind of the recipient, so very often it was easier to quickly launch a visualization seen only to the recipient(or those the recipient wanted to share the information with) that could be played and toyed with. For simple friendly chats, such was not necessary.

>>V: Yes, quite attractive indeed.

>>M: I am proud of my son then. Just don't tell Helen, she'll freak out.

Vethara smirked, as indeed despite the decades spent in Taraskovya, despite the lifestyle, despite the provided physical treatment to make sure she lived much longer than an average foreigner human, she was still Pantocratorian at heart. And was not always approving of her son's less socially conservative actions.

>>V: As you wish, Sire. Now, he did tell me about that star exploding project of yours.

>>M: Quite interesting, isn't it? He wants to test out peak energy collection during the spread of stellar plasma and apply it to another project that requires instant, but massive energy consumption.

>>V: Not privy to the details. Maybe outside of my clearance.

>>M: My sister gets all the clearance she needs and may request. It is simply that she has her own focus areas, which were extremely beneficial to the Empire. And for this, I am grateful, you did a wonderful job. If you are curious, you can check project data, catch the access to a non-science heavy digest.

>>V: Talk to you soon, brother.

Vethara hopped through the direct access provided by the Vasilevs himself. Being the de jure absolute monarch of Taraskovya, he had quite some leeway in managing the country's projects and undertakings, overtime delegating routine business to the Cabinet of Ministers and the Imperial Veche and instead focusing on less public matters.

She visualized the data, skimmed through the digest. Stared at the stars some more, pensively.

"Does Your Imperial Highness wish for anything to drink or eat?" a waiter asked.

It has been less than a minute since Vethara took her seat, accelerated time doing wonders. The question actually snapped her out of her state and back into the regular flow.

"I'll have a Dead black heart," she said with a smile, the waiter nodded and left, without pestering her needlessly if she desired anything else.

Thd cocktail she ordered was invented by a Tarathian barman back in Keth, on Earth. Tarathians being physiologically naturally resistant to alcohol intoxication, he wanted to make something that was natural, yet would blow his kinsmen's minds off like copious amounts of vodka to a regular human. And so he came up with a powerful mix of outworld exotic spirits that, when mixed together, created a mixture that absorbed light to appear infinitely black, did not taste strong alcohol at all and had a pleasant fruity accent.

It was the perfect drink for Tarathians, half-Tarathians and other pointy eared denizens of the Empire to get drunk on. It exploded in popularity extremely quickly, taking bars all over the Empire in a tsunami.

It was time to get wasted in regular flow.

[Tarasovka]

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Of Things Far Out, Shysh Far Out
3

”Fortune Second of Honour”, flagship of the Serene Navy, somewhere in the Forlorn Shysh Space, Taraskovyan Empire (or is it?)

Bonk nosh-Greth Kal-Oiks stood on the bridge of the “Fortune Second of Honour”, a ship built to replace the Poikan “Fortune” dreadnaught that was destroyed fighting the Remnant intrusion into the Organised Shysh Space not so long ago. The young Shysh knew a stellar career growth from a liaison to GEC Captain M’hadjou, helping her deal with the disparate Shysh Lordships, and onwards to becoming the first ever Shysh to be bestowed with Taraskovyan citizenship and being assigned the Taraskovya’s “Voice” to the Grand Assembly Broad and Wide, where the Taraskovyan Empire did not actually have a vote, yet had the crucial role of arbitrating any disputes between the Lordships and the Republics forming the Organised Shysh Space and setting the guidelines for the future development of the Assembly, which was then subject to approval by the component members.

Himself a native Poikan, Bonk nosh-Greth Kal-Oiks withdrew from any ties to the Most Noble and Serene Republic to concentrate on his new mission. But it was obvious that he kept the warmest ties with the Republic, and was at times seen with suspicion by the Lords. Specifically for this reason he was only the Voice, he was there to transmit the ideas of the Taraskovyan Empire. He was not there to arbitrate. The role of arbitrator fell to His Serene Highess the Duke Mstivoy of the Imperial Blood.

But “Mister Bonk”, as Captain M’hadjou would refer to him in the past, had a very important role. That of spearheading the transformation of the Lordships by forcing them to follow the example of Poik, lest they be left behind. On this particular case, Bonk was observing the firing tests of the Fortune-class dreadnaught after the installation of the Taraskovyan-provided Bio-Synthetic Intellect. The BSI’s were quite crude for AIs, were not sapient, had the weakness of being tied to an artificial organic multiple layer polyhedron with neurological connections running all along the surfaces of the object. As any organic object, it was subject to eventual decay, it was subject to damage, it was centralized and data would be lost if it suffered critical damage. There were too many limitations. The Taraskovyans themselves would not use something like this, they were well beyond anything like this.

And yet this was exactly why it would actually work with the Shysh: the primitiveness of the systems was their most serious advantage when taken in the context of the modern Shysh civilization.

Indeed, the Hierarchy, the local equivalent of a very zealous church, forbid the development of sapient AI and shunned any AI, in fact. It was taught by the Creed, and was disputed by no historical record (for there were no historical records), that the Mad Emperor was, in fact, an AI, who caused the downfall of the Shysh civilization hundreds of thousands of years ago. So it was taught that creating AIs would herald the return of the Mad Emperor. Whether this was true or simply fanatical zeal was yet to be uncovered.

The Shysh used advanced computers, yet these were deprived of the AI competitive edge in calculations, analytics and decision making. Case in point, turrets on Shysh warships were staffed with gunnery crews, the gunners having to make their own decisions and targeting (even if computerized).

The “Fortune Second of Honour” was the first ever Shysh warship since the times of the Collapse to be outfitted with automatic turrets, directed by just a handful tactical officers on the bridge. And the results were immediately resounding, well, by Shysh standards anyway. Whereas the dreadnaught was previously only able to engage capital ships, and was quite specifically tasked to taking out the “Purifier” class dreadnaughts in service with the Laipalk Lordship, now the heavy turrets sent their slugs hammering in on much, much smaller targets. And mobile targets, at that. The “Fortune Second of Honour” could capture numerous decoy targets and unleash salvos of missiles and torpedoes, switching priorities as required much faster than it could before.

Taraskovya offered the BSIs and the associated automation upgrades to all Shysh polities, yet Poik was the most advanced, the most open minded and the first to implement. After video footage of the testing results would be broadcast by Poik’s media to the people of the Most Noble and Serene Republic, the Lordships would immediately catch on and let the Taraskovyans in with their technology.

The Empire was learning to be a good babysitter with some quite complex toddlers. So far, She was doing a rather OK job.