Reds on the Red Planet! [IC, Semi open, MT/PMT Dip]

[Holy Tedalonia]

Dear President Tomas
Ever since the news was made about you globally, Holy Tedalonia's Triplex (congress) has been taken advantage of it. I have been told by the Triplex that if I make an alliance with you they will force me to resign, however they have allowed me to trade and make deals with you. I think I can fit the price and be able to purchase. However you have not stated the exact number you're willing to sell. I for one a am also curious, are you interested in our history on earth, or are you just willing to make contact with us?
- President Esteemed Morrius Tedgustus

[Aaktirossika]

63 hours after launch, ASO Mjolnir

As the ship passed the threshold of the Asteroid Belt, a strange feeling overcame Frederik Evanssen, one of the colonists aboard the vessel. It was a strange feelimg he acquainted to what it would be like seeing your parents for the first time, being taken away at birth.

The red dot far in the horizon drew closer every passing second. It was an honour to see Earthic humans and be the first to speak face-to-face with Aaktirossika's far-flung siblings. Frederik was still confused as to how or why they only knew about Titan now, and not earlier.

Frederik floated over to the window and read the latest Aaktirossik News article.

BREAKING NEWS: First Contact With Earth, Diplomatic Relations Improving As Aaktirossik Spacecraft Nears Mars

For a moment, he felt special. And then he realised that he was never going home to see his parents or brother again. But at least his wife was here with him.

Frederik read the article, which was posted in Aaktirossik and English. It had been for the past 20 years, especially as strange radio signals from Earth confirmed the suspicions that Titan was not the species' first abode.

"What a strange language," he thought as he mulled over the English words. "It seems familiar, but different."

Frederik sighed as he turned off the tablet device. This was going to be a long journey

Meanwhile, at Polluxstadt Presidential Manor

President Tomas Ijesselka had been the subject of some bad press. Being the first leader to initiate contact with another planet, they said, was a huge mistake.

"We are humans too," he thought. "We deserve these people's friendship. We sit on a cold rock while they live like kings on their nice warm inner-system larger rock. We have experienced hell, being a species that did not evolve to live here."

He looked out of the window, gazing proudly at the sprawling megapolis of Polluxstadt, the natiom's capital city. "And we have done well here," he thought, but this time with a smile of pride. His technological advisor brought news that improved his mood even more.

"Sir, they've managed to integrate Aaktirossik and Earthic internet."

"Send all the leaders the file. Good work, my friend."

Dear all Earthic leaders who participate in the colonization race of Mars,

You all seem fairly interested in my history, and therefore my technological advisors have been able to create this document that can be displayed on your electronic-based computers. Believe me, it was hard work - us Aaktirossik use the far more superior photon-based computer.

Here is the document, and I hope you read it. Be sure to check back every now and then, as our computer engineers are hard at work adding more data.

https://www.nationstates.net/nation=aak ... /id=807228

Yours under Saturn,
President Tomas Ijesselka

Dear Mr. Tedgustus,

That is unfortunate. I was hoping you'd ally with us for the good of our two nations.

As to the number or devices, you can purchase only one.
Do not take this as an insulting number, but we can only sell one at a time due to restrains on trading put in place by one of our Earth-related laws. We can sell more after a certain period.

Yours under Saturn,
President Tomas Ijesselka

[Holy Tedalonia]

63 hours after launch, ASO Mjolnir

As the ship passed the threshold of the Asteroid Belt, a strange feeling overcame Frederik Evanssen, one of the colonists aboard the vessel. It was a strange feelimg he acquainted to what it would be like seeing your parents for the first time, being taken away at birth.

The red dot far in the horizon drew closer every passing second. It was an honour to see Earthic humans and be the first to speak face-to-face with Aaktirossika's far-flung siblings. Frederik was still confused as to how or why they only knew about Titan now, and not earlier.

Frederik floated over to the window and read the latest Aaktirossik News article.

BREAKING NEWS: First Contact With Earth, Diplomatic Relations Improving As Aaktirossik Spacecraft Nears Mars

For a moment, he felt special. And then he realised that he was never going home to see his parents or brother again. But at least his wife was here with him.

Frederik read the article, which was posted in Aaktirossik and English. It had been for the past 20 years, especially as strange radio signals from Earth confirmed the suspicions that Titan was not the species' first abode.

"What a strange language," he thought as he mulled over the English words. "It seems familiar, but different."

Frederik sighed as he turned off the tablet device. This was going to be a long journey

Meanwhile, at Polluxstadt Presidential Manor

President Tomas Ijesselka had been the subject of some bad press. Being the first leader to initiate contact with another planet, they said, was a huge mistake.

"We are humans too," he thought. "We deserve these people's friendship. We sit on a cold rock while they live like kings on their nice warm inner-system larger rock. We have experienced hell, being a species that did not evolve to live here."

He looked out of the window, gazing proudly at the sprawling megapolis of Polluxstadt, the natiom's capital city. "And we have done well here," he thought, but this time with a smile of pride. His technological advisor brought news that improved his mood even more.

"Sir, they've managed to integrate Aaktirossik and Earthic internet."

"Send all the leaders the file. Good work, my friend."

Dear all Earthic leaders who participate in the colonization race of Mars,

You all seem fairly interested in my history, and therefore my technological advisors have been able to create this document that can be displayed on your electronic-based computers. Believe me, it was hard work - us Aaktirossik use the far more superior photon-based computer.

Here is the document, and I hope you read it. Be sure to check back every now and then, as our computer engineers are hard at work adding more data.

https://www.nationstates.net/nation=aak ... /id=807228

Yours under Saturn,
President Tomas Ijesselka

Dear Mr. Tedgustus,

That is unfortunate. I was hoping you'd ally with us for the good of our two nations.

As to the number or devices, you can purchase only one.
Do not take this as an insulting number, but we can only sell one at a time due to restrains on trading put in place by one of our Earth-related laws. We can sell more after a certain period.

Yours under Saturn,
President Tomas Ijesselka

President Esteemed Morrius Tedgustus spent all day trying deal with the unhappy politicians and new party faction known as "Ri0t". Who were against the Titanian Nation and wish Titan to be destroyed for being a potential threat. The cost of democracy, thought Morrius as he walked back into office, noticing the 2 new telegrams left on his desk. "Ah so they're sharing their history, and responded to my telegram," said Morrius.

Dear President Tomas
On recent activities my nation has dealt with several fights across the nation over our policy about you. I have made it clear that Tedalonia shall treat your nation with the same respect as we treat the earth nations. We have come to inform you that we would like an inform detail of all Earthic related laws so that we understand and know how to deal with you and negotiate. Also I have come to inform you that, Hermes crew, is under development. We plan to have a droid controlled ship manage trade, so that we can trade without making anyone giving up their lives to make a lifetime long trip.
- President Esteemed Morrius Tedgustus
Factbook (incomplete however has enough information for you to understand our nation): Factbook

[Aaktirossika]

-------

President Esteemed Morrius Tedgustus spent all day trying deal with the unhappy politicians and new party faction known as "Ri0t". Who were against the Titanian Nation and wish Titan to be destroyed for being a potential threat. The cost of democracy, thought Morrius as he walked back into office, noticing the 2 new telegrams left on his desk. "Ah so they're sharing their history, and responded to my telegram," said Morrius.

Dear President Tomas
On recent activities my nation has dealt with several fights across the nation over our policy about you. I have made it clear that Tedalonia shall treat your nation with the same respect as we treat the earth nations. We have come to inform you that we would like an inform detail of all Earthic related laws so that we understand and know how to deal with you and negotiate. Also I have come to inform you that, Hermes crew, is under development. We plan to have a droid controlled ship manage trade, so that we can trade without making anyone giving up their lives to make a lifetime long trip.
- President Esteemed Morrius Tedgustus
Factbook (incomplete however has enough information for you to understand our nation): Factbook

President Ijesselka's stomach lurched. A political party against them threatening the first Earthic nation they had contact with? He quickly wrote a response.

Dear Mr. Tedgustus,

I apologize for the situation in your nation. Over here, people are fairly supportive of moves and ideas. Is there any possible reason these people are so against us? Do they think we are some extra-terrestrial green men? I hope they realise we are one and the same species. If there is anything you'd like us to do, please tell. Use all the informatiom I have given you in the below box and give it as a statement to your nation. This ought to shut the anarchists up.

___________________________________

Dear Citizens of Holy Tedalonia,

My name is Tomas Ijesselka, President of Aaktirossika. You may have heard of me by now: the President of the nation that resides in the outer solar system, on Saturn's moon Titan.

I hear some of you want to kill me and my glorious nation that we have spent so long creating, especially after your distant ancestors sent us back to the Stone Age.

To those people, I urge you to think. We do not pose a threat to such an honorable nation that shares many of our values. If the situation persists, we will be forced to diplomatically retreat, and not have the ability to share our advanced technology with you.

Thank you for your time, and we wish you and your nation the best.

Yours under Saturn.


___________________________________

Hopefully they'll stop. This should also ease the situatiom within your borders and reduce violence.

As for the long distance trading, we are willing to teach you the benefits of photonic propulsion. This enables our crafts to travel at 60% of the speed of light, which allows the journey time from Titan to Earth in 5 days (permitting your vessels get permission from the Skandikan Council Of Space, of which our nation leads.)

Our Earthic laws are simple:

Only engage in combat if threatened or attacked.

Trade one super valuable item at a time, to ensure that they don't have to be sold back.


That's it, in effect. We set them up 15 years ago in preparation for inevitable contact.

Yours under Saturn,

President Tomas Ijesselka

[Caracasus]

The Diplomat

“Bugger.”

He'd picked up his communications device, hand coated in sunscreen and the damn thing had fallen onto the baking hot sand of the beach. Gingerly, he struck out and grasped the device; now coated in fine sand clinging to the sunscreen he had transferred. His drink was a complete write-off. Gloomily he poured the sandy sludge from the bottom of the cup and sighed.

The seagulls squawked, and a few fishing boats could be seen. The midday sun beat down hard on the beach, leaving the sunbathers still. Here and there the ocean broke with a particularly persistent swimmer, but other than that it appeared as if the sun had reduced everyone to a happy state of slumber.

Apart from him, of course. The tone of the device differentiated between friends and calls from the commune, which technically answered to Caracasus International Affairs. Technically. Disparate Elements in the Pentagonal Garden wasn't taken quite as seriously as it would have liked. It sprung from the idea that followed a logical enough sequence of events. If alien life contacted Earth, it would likely want to speak to people. If that happened, would it not be best to have a group or committee already in place to handle these negotiations? Thus Disparate Elements...

The department really did very little, aside from screening the more obvious hoaxes from the less obvious ones. So what the hell where they calling him for?

It surprised the other beach-goers no end when the Kavverit landed, its downward pointing engines kicking up clouds of sand. When someone disembarked from the vessel and handed him the kind of uniform that Caracasusians used when dealing with cultures and societies more used to formality and hierarchy, he began to regret the drink. When yet another individual from International Affairs handed him a dossier on this new civilization on Titan, and informed him of their destination he sorely regretted the highly enjoyable cocktail of chemicals he had taken. They had accentuated the experience of lazing on a beach throughout the day wonderfully. They did significantly less for the experience of explaining official Caracasusian positions to another government....

---

Caracasusian Embassy – Uan aa Boa.

The man from Caracasus paced the reception room where he waited to meet one of Uan aa Boa's People's Representatives. The administrative body of Uan aa Boa, thrown together as it was by men and women more used to conducting guerilla warfare, was as rough and ready as those who made it. People's Representatives could be in charge of a single commune, or communications throughout the entire country. Generally, or so the Caracasusians working at the embassy had told him, you could get a rough idea of the person's rank by the number of medals they had.

That unfortunately was no indicator as to how seriously they were taken by the Chairman. Imposing looking men and women bearing scars and injuries were usually ex-guerilla fighters. More likely to be taken seriously. Others.... perhaps less so. The medals might have been awarded for keeping the cleanest office for three months in a row, or discovering a new way to distribute grain throughout the more impoverished areas of the country. Who knew?

His own uniform was stiff and starched from lack of wear. It bore a suitably impressive collection of insignia, half of which he had no idea what they represented. A small pile of sand gathered on the floor underneath him if he stood too long and he itched in frankly unmentionable places.

The People's Representative arrived at last. A woman, either in her early fifties, or who had been aged more than most by the conflict. A scar ran the length of her face, across her jaw – accentuating an already prominent feature. Her uniform was well worn but immaculately clean. Her holster carried a Caracasusian made Loxxi flechette pistol and her demeanour indicated she possessed both the training and the will to use it.

“So tell us Doctor. What exactly are we dealing with? What sort of threat might these Titan colonists pose?”

The table lay between them, and the diplomat had the unbearable urge to scratch a persistent yet highly unsociable itch.

“Threat? Honestly, we are simply not sure at this stage. We've viewed their information. It appears to roughly coincide with the calamity event. That and the readings from Titan... it appears that they are there alright but...”

“What kind of society do they have? Are they a threat to us? To the revolution?” The unspoken question: Why hasn't Caracasus done anything about this yet?

“From their information? Capitalist of a sort. There are mentions of wars, so we'd hazard a guess that they may be quite militaristic. The fact that they're sending a peaceful message is good. Though...”

She leaned across the desk. “How so? Doctor, when I was fighting in the revolution, the puppet government offered us “rebels” a seat at a peace conference. Many of my friends left. They were sick of the fighting. The bloodshed. They wanted a better life for their children so they took a chance.”

“And uh... how did it go?” Asked the diplomat, weakly.

“It was a trap. The government arrested them as soon as they entered the city. All three hundred of our people. The trial, the executions... what I am saying Doctor is that we have learnt from bitter experience not to trust people like this. I do not know what Caracasus's response will be, but I must say that at present, with this information... it is possible my country will consider them a threat. We must know how big a threat.”

The air was awfully warm, and not conducive to serious discussion. He longed to be back at the beach, this entire afternoon...

“Well, they have advanced technology but... it appears that their society has fragmented somewhat. Perhaps they reached a technological zenith some time ago, and simply cannot advance past that stage. Their societal structure... the lack of resources and manpower... any one of these things could have hampered their growth. They promise advanced technology, yet limit it in number. That could indicate that they lack the ability or will to produce more.”

“And the ship we plan to send. It is unarmed?”

The diplomat spread his hands. “Of course. We did not think we had a need for weapons. Space is so very dangerous, and space ships are so very fragile. No nation would dare attack another's space craft – they would be condemning their own to certain death.”

[Holy Tedalonia]

--------

President Ijesselka's stomach lurched. A political party against them threatening the first Earthic nation they had contact with? He quickly wrote a response.

Dear Mr. Tedgustus,

I apologize for the situation in your nation. Over here, people are fairly supportive of moves and ideas. Is there any possible reason these people are so against us? Do they think we are some extra-terrestrial green men? I hope they realise we are one and the same species. If there is anything you'd like us to do, please tell. Use all the informatiom I have given you in the below box and give it as a statement to your nation. This ought to shut the anarchists up.

___________________________________

Dear Citizens of Holy Tedalonia,

My name is Tomas Ijesselka, President of Aaktirossika. You may have heard of me by now: the President of the nation that resides in the outer solar system, on Saturn's moon Titan.

I hear some of you want to kill me and my glorious nation that we have spent so long creating, especially after your distant ancestors sent us back to the Stone Age.

To those people, I urge you to think. We do not pose a threat to such an honorable nation that shares many of our values. If the situation persists, we will be forced to diplomatically retreat, and not have the ability to share our advanced technology with you.

Thank you for your time, and we wish you and your nation the best.

Yours under Saturn.


___________________________________

Hopefully they'll stop. This should also ease the situatiom within your borders and reduce violence.

As for the long distance trading, we are willing to teach you the benefits of photonic propulsion. This enables our crafts to travel at 60% of the speed of light, which allows the journey time from Titan to Earth in 5 days (permitting your vessels get permission from the Skandikan Council Of Space, of which our nation leads.)

Our Earthic laws are simple:

Only engage in combat if threatened or attacked.

Trade one super valuable item at a time, to ensure that they don't have to be sold back.


That's it, in effect. We set them up 15 years ago in preparation for inevitable contact.

Yours under Saturn,

President Tomas Ijesselka

Morrius Tedgustus reads the telegram. President Esteemed Morrius Tedgustus sighed, the document was bad and good. Would shut up the Ri0t for awhile for knew information regarding Titan, and it was also good that their allowed to trade, however Ri0t won't stop until they respect the nations of Titan.

Dear President Tomas
I thank you, the message stopped ri0t for awhile, however I am sure that they will try again. You see the part originates from a defensive viewpoint, and see you as a potential threat, however if they saw your great nation. Like a documentary they might come to respect you. Theirs also military pride, as I've said before we recently had 2 wars and won both, although the victory came with a cost, the citizens have found great pride in the military. It is powerful and advanced, and the number one response of why we have a better military is the "We have Robots, excuse," however we do not have fast space ships, so you would clearly beat us. I would like you to present a documentary of your nation, about you're history and culture. I would assume we have very similar ideologies and history, so I would bet that would help, also don't talk about in present Empires.

Your trade agreements and laws sound reasonable. Perhaps we can show you our technology. Like our robots (AASB), and OSL (Orbital Space Laser), however the OSL is still damaged from its first firing. We have had promised we won't repair it, since now we know that of it is destructive nature. We just use it for studying laser technology. I would also ask you to not trade with us on space travel technology, due to the fact that distance is protecting both of us.
- Morrius Tedgustus

[Aaktirossika]

72 hours after launch, ASO Mjolnir, in orbit around Jupiter

The silence of interplanetary space was interrupted by the sound of an incoming message from Aaktirossika. Lijsa Haupgeij and the other 5 members aboard watched the broadcast, eyes fixed on the screen.

It was the Leader of the ASO, Amij Angvaa.

"Hello, courageous colonists. I hope you are faring well on your journey so far. It's been 3 days, and you are already passing Jupiter's sphere of influence.

Now, I know you were told this would be a simple 7 day flight at the beginning, but we've run some calculations, specificially on the solar winds and gravity in the inner solar system, and the journey will not be as straightforward as you were told," the image of Mrs. Angvaa spoke.

Lijsa frowned. Three years and 40 billion Ymirzas to develop a craft to get them into the inner solar system, and they couldn't even get the dates right.

"The journey will take much longer. Likely 40-60 days. Now, I know you will be irritated by this revelation, but we have no real choice here, and neither do you. We have decided to launch the second craft, which will dock with yours in 20 days. Before you worry, there is significant food supplies aboard the vessel to last you 100 years, so don't fret. Thank you for your co-operation."

The message ended as suddenly as it began. Worried chatter emerged between the colonists.

They were stuck here for another 2 months.

Polluxstadt Government Centre, Titan

"Amij," President Tomas Ijesselka spoke in an irritated tone of desperation. "We've known each other for a very long time. How did you make this mistake?"

"I... I don't know!" she responded quickly.

Ijesselka sighed. He sat down on the sofa and poured a shot of whiskey, slushed it around a little, and responded. "Have I made a mistake?" he asked in a sincere tone.

"No... no. Tomas, you did well," Mrs. Angvaa reassured him.

"They all think we're some kind of monsters," he said sadly as he drank his whiskey.

Amij Angvaa had known the President for 30 years. They were best friends in childhood, and she owed him big time for giving her her job, her house and her car. But she stood now in front of a different man to the one she befriended 30 years ago. 8 years of leading a country had taken its toll on the poor man.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "It's fine, Tomas. We are monsters. We're not perfect."

"But we need to be perfect," he began, "because we only get one shot at this."

The President got up and tucked in his shirt. He said his goodbyes to his friend and walked out of the building, preparing for what lay ahead.

[Uan aa Boa]

5 years of prohibition preceded by a decade of voluntary temperance had not fully dulled her senses. Peoples' Representative Miriam Tilese was certain that the Caracasusian "doctor" had been drunk and probably under the influence of stranger substances. She smiled to herself as she realised she was grappling with the urge to have him arrested. Still the idealist then, despite everything. As she left the embassy she felt the usual bewilderment on dealing with Caracasasians, so vague, so evasive and enigmatic regarding their precise function or the scope of their authority. Marx had foreseen that in time the state would outlive its purpose and wither away, but back in the days of studying revolutionary texts by the light of guerrilla camp fires she hadn't realised that when it happened it would seem so... bohemian.

The embassy was housed in one of the old colonial mansions on a sunny, tree lined street. In the days after the Revolution, Miriam had favoured razing them and starting over, though she accepted that a house was a resource there was wisdom in not wasting. Still, the proper use for such historically tainted buildings was a difficult subject. The ones in this street mostly housed the proliferating IT projects, producing code that would help district economic planners struggling with the scale of their task or manage the variable flow of power from the new wind and solar powered grid. The First Economic Plan had imported such software from Caracasus as a finished product with an instruction manual. The Second accepted slower growth so as to start the work of self reliance. There was no denying that these antique houses were a more opulent working environment than the fields or factories. Miriam noted this favouring of the educated, as if they were a class separated from the rest of the proletariat, and thought no good could come of it.

She was tired. In a land encircled by enemies with superior armaments she had held out such hope for the effect on morale of Comrade Lotoa planting the Rifle, Hoe and Sun on the surface of Mars, years before it could be reached by the nations that threatened the Revolution on Earth. Now it seemed that the encirclement might be replicated on a cosmic scale. The signal from Titan was not yet public knowledge, but whispers were spreading across the borders and an announcement would soon be necessary. She needed a plan.

For ten years Miriam had been beset on every side. The role she had carved out for herself in the Party had been that of preventing corruption. She had been the first to realise what should have been foreseen from the start. The more aspects of life fell under the control of the Party and the lower the chances of an official's conduct rebounding on them, the more abuse would occur. It was nobody's fault. Just as capitalism eventually collapses under the weight of its own contradictions, so it was a mechanistic, predictable consequence of people being people. Still, it had been hard to plan for the mixed motives of her comrades when she herself had given everything.

After endless debates and arguments, planning was decentralised to a district level. The decision makers were no longer those that had caught the eye of a commander, but were chosen by the communities they served and to which, after a fixed term, they would return to experience their comrades verdict on their performance. Miriam was grateful that although the Chairman listened every day to those who told him he was supremely wise, he retained enough wisdom to keep company with old comrades who would tell him when he was wrong.

Her husband had told her she had done enough, begged her to step back and apply for a parental licence while there was still time. In a brave new world the burden of his ancestors weighed heavy on him, but she knew there was so much more to do. He wanted them to retreat to a bigger house outside the city. It could have happened - in those days she controlled the grading of his post as harbour master and the housing entitlement it carried. She wouldn't have been challenged, but she hadn't done it. She knew she had been right, but there were nights when that was small comfort alone and waiting for the dawn.

Striding off down the road towards her office, she forced the memories from her mind and tried to focus on the draft of the announcement.

[Watersville]

Near the City of Togo, on Lucious Island, Watersville

The setup of the third rocket was nearly complete. The rocket looked exactly the same as the second rocket to be launched and also the two remaining rockets. Jessie stood outside of his temporary residence in the apartment just outside of the facility. The place seemed more like a hotel to him, as he had not even been here for more than 3 days and he was set to leave in under 12 hours. He watched as the sun slowly made it's decent over the horizon and as the sky changed colors from the bright blue that dominated during the day to vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows to a black that signaled night. He entered the apartment once more and quickly showered before he headed to bed. Tomorrow was a big day, who knew what lay ahead.

36 hours later

Jessie steered the rocket into position and then proceeded to maneuver into the position that he was to take. He quickly moved in and the ships soon were connected. After a moment, the doors to the second rocket opened and the two crews were now one. In exactly four days, the final section of the Harmony would be in place and the ship would be prepared for the journey.

Waters City, Watersville

From: The Royal House of Waters City and Watersville
To: The Titania Federal Republic of Aaktirossika

After looking over your fascinating web page on Aaktirossika, we have a much better sense of your nation as well as of your culture and your position in not only Titan, but also in the solar system. The first thing that is noticed is that you discuss being on Titan for well over 1847 Titan Years, which, if my calculations are correct would place us in the year 4082 AD here on Earth. This, of course is over 2000 years older than our own calendar is. In terms of years here on Earth, the year is currently 2017, which is troublesome and may explain our loss of knowledge of the colonies that we once sent to Titan.

I hope that you have no issue with us as some of our allies are Communist nations and some are Capitalist nations. We ourselves are a sort of middle area where land and business ownership are allowed and encouraged. The tax rate is high at around 75%, but we have socialized health care, welfare, and social security. We also have free public transportation and education.

We understand that pacifism does not work for everyone and if we had neighbors that were always threatening to attack us, we would need to upkeep our military forces to combat these threats.

We hope that we are able to remain friends and that our friendship is able to grow and prosper.

With respect,
His Royal Highness Joseph Watters

[Aaktirossika]

Near the City of Togo, on Lucious Island, Watersville

The setup of the third rocket was nearly complete. The rocket looked exactly the same as the second rocket to be launched and also the two remaining rockets. Jessie stood outside of his temporary residence in the apartment just outside of the facility. The place seemed more like a hotel to him, as he had not even been here for more than 3 days and he was set to leave in under 12 hours. He watched as the sun slowly made it's decent over the horizon and as the sky changed colors from the bright blue that dominated during the day to vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows to a black that signaled night. He entered the apartment once more and quickly showered before he headed to bed. Tomorrow was a big day, who knew what lay ahead.

36 hours later

Jessie steered the rocket into position and then proceeded to maneuver into the position that he was to take. He quickly moved in and the ships soon were connected. After a moment, the doors to the second rocket opened and the two crews were now one. In exactly four days, the final section of the Harmony would be in place and the ship would be prepared for the journey.

Waters City, Watersville

(Image)

From: The Royal House of Waters City and Watersville
To: The Titania Federal Republic of Aaktirossika

After looking over your fascinating web page on Aaktirossika, we have a much better sense of your nation as well as of your culture and your position in not only Titan, but also in the solar system. The first thing that is noticed is that you discuss being on Titan for well over 1847 Titan Years, which, if my calculations are correct would place us in the year 4082 AD here on Earth. This, of course is over 2000 years older than our own calendar is. In terms of years here on Earth, the year is currently 2017, which is troublesome and may explain our loss of knowledge of the colonies that we once sent to Titan.

I hope that you have no issue with us as some of our allies are Communist nations and some are Capitalist nations. We ourselves are a sort of middle area where land and business ownership are allowed and encouraged. The tax rate is high at around 75%, but we have socialized health care, welfare, and social security. We also have free public transportation and education.

We understand that pacifism does not work for everyone and if we had neighbors that were always threatening to attack us, we would need to upkeep our military forces to combat these threats.

We hope that we are able to remain friends and that our friendship is able to grow and prosper.

With respect,
His Royal Highness Joseph Watters

3 days after launch

The message seemed ordinary. President Tomas was handed the file and began reading through. But something caught his eye.

"2000 years behind our timeline?" he said to himself. "This can't be right. All the ancient ship logs have the exact dates, in Earthic AD!"

Tomas sat in contemplation for a minute. "Wow," he finally thought. "We know less about our history then we first thought."

And with that, he set finger to keyboard and began typing.

Retensbrek Launch Tower

ASO Ymir was ready for take-off. Built as a sister vessel for the ASO Mjolnir, these 40 billion Ymirza spacecraft were built a few years prior, with the intention to colonize other moons in Saturn's orbit.

However, the recent events changed all of that.

Flight Director, and Amij Angvaa's second in command, Petrek Uusenkeft, prepared for the ignition of a few million kilograms of thrust underneath the 12 colonists aboard.

"This is Retensbrek Tower. You have been cleared for takeoff."

Unlike the Mjolnir, the Ymir was designed in more of a plane design. The low gravity allowed heavier and more effective crafts to launch off the surface.

The plan was for the Mjolnir to slow down, and the Ymir to dock into the back, completing the craft, with enough silica to build a 10km wide geometric dome. Inside, the 'terraforming' devices would be deployed, creating a suitable environment for the colonists to grow crops. If the dome broke, the air would fly out and the colonists likely die. But the scientists had created an extremely resilient alloy of titanium and scandium that was fused with the silica, which was now virtually indestructible.

"Launch."

And with that, the ship's ion engines crackled into life, hurtling out into the horizon.

Dear His Majesty Joseph Watters of Watersville,

What a fascinating discovery. 5 days since initial contact with Earth, and we have already found out an interesting fact. You see, there is some wreckage and debris of ancient Earthic ships in the south of the continent we lie off the coast of, Skandika. Aboard these vessels are crew logs that are dated in the 5 years between 2104 and 2109 AD. The fact that your civilization, and the rest of Earth, happens to be in 2017 AD, is interesting.

I, like you, would like to find out the truth about this strange fact, which could have implications for the histories of both our great nations.

It has almost certainly been 1890 years since our ancestors landed here, as we have carbon dated human skeletons that are that old.

As for dealing with other governmental structures, we are not too concerned. As long as the Communists do not impose their beliefs on us, as our culture runs strongly against the Communist belief.

If they think they can overpower us militarily, they should bear in mind we can reach Earth in a matter of months. As for the other way round, it'd take 5 years for them to reach us with their current technology.

My nation has warmed to yours quite a lot in the past week, and my citizens admire you, as you are a very noble monarch. I hope this marks the beginning of a chapter of interplanetary co-operation between our states, and I would like to extend an offer to create an alliance between us.

Yours under Saturn,
President Tomas Ijesselka

[Significance]

Deep space

A ship glimmered, in the inky blackness of space. From someone on the outside, watching the ship go by, the words 'USS Enterprise' could be clearly seen across the ship in a blue that perfectly contrasted the white background.

The name wasn't entirely apt, as the colony ship was designed not by a company with the abbreviation USS, but GBi, or Grubicon Inc, a company set up by ex wealthy banker Frederick Gruber, to send a colony to mars to anyone wealthy enough to pay. Oh, and a group of scientists, engineers and military personnel to keep them safe.

The voyage had been planned years in advance, and had almost not gone ahead because of recent events in Significance. Luckily, things settled down and the project had continued, and now the 200 colonists were one month into their six month voyage to mars.

On the bridge of the ship

Captain Philip Hammond, one of three rotating captains who commanded the ship around the day and night, sat uncomfortable in the silly little captains chair. Damn weight restrictions, why did a guest get to cram a grand piano on board again? At least the job didn't come with much to do during the long voyage. Oh, and at least he fit into the chair, unlike a certain someone.

"Sir, you'd best take a look at this"

The radar operator, what now?

He briskly walked over to the desk. An object on the radar screen was slowly moving across on an intercept course.

"Merely an asteroid" he proclaimed "Helm adjust our course to avoid it"

Easy

"Aye sir" came the response.

He sat back down slowly, not even a cheap cushion to protect him after all.

"Sir, the object has sped up, and changed course to intercept us again"

Strange.

"Helm, change course again, quickly please"

A bead of sweat dripped off the captain's head. He shouldn't panic, but he had a bad feeling about this.

"Sir it's no good, the object is still on us and closing fast"

Not good.

"Evasive maneuvers, keep trying to shake it helm" he pulled down a cord with a mic connected to the speaker system "All hands, this is the captain, brace for impact!"

Distress signal

To anyone out there, this is the colony ship USS Enterprise. We have been hit by an unknown object and are badly damaged. Assistance required. Repeat, we have been hit-

(Static)

[Watersville]

From: The Royal House of Waters City and Watersville
To: The Titania Federal Republic of Aaktirossika

We are glad to hear that you are also looking into the discrepancy of the timelines as well, as we have begun to look into ways that these differences could have occurred here on Earth. We have begun our search here in Watersville, however we hope to be able expand our search elsewhere around the globe over the next several weeks and months. We will continue to update you on our findings as soon we find them.

We are glad to hear that our alliances will not interfere with the relations between our two nations in the near future. Watersvillians have grown to admire your scientific achievements and we look forward to the advancement of our relationship.

With respect,
His Royal Highness Joseph Watters

Near the City of Togo, on Lucious Island, Watersville

The fourth of the five rocket pieces slowly rose off the ground, symbolizing the ever approaching closeness to finally reaching the Red Planet. What awaited them there, well, that was a different story. Some scientists suggested that the planet may still yet hold life and a colony, especially with the recent contact from Titan. Yet many others remained held to the fact that the planet was nothing more than that, a barren planet. Neither side would be proven until the crew finally arrived at Mars, which was still quite a ways away.

It wasn't long until the fourth section of the rocket made its way to and connected with the rest of the already launched rocket. After the connection was made, it was time to connect the final piece of the rocket.

[Caracasus]

Caracasusian embassy – Watersville.

The walls of the old building were lined with oak panels. Not the original, she had been told. A faithful reproduction after the great fire of 1912. Gentle lighting cast over portraits of prominent Watersvillians – the Caracasusian staff had left this room of the embassy as they had found it. The angle and height of the portraits made it seem as if the great and good of Watersville were staring down on her. She could feel the weight of history.

Funny thing history, she mused. Caracasus lacked it in so many ways. The Anzique tribes (hah! The name alone – a category placed upon them by their conquerors.) wrote in other languages, but not their own. Subsequently, vast amounts of their culture and religion were left to the interpretation of bible carrying missionaries or scientists equally burdened under an ideology that saw the Anzique as inferior people. Then the slaves. Hundreds of thousands dragged from across the world. Working the plantations and mines. A history of a thousand disparate parts, fragmented and broken. Watersvillians could trace back family trees to a time when the water mill was cutting edge technology. A link to the past.

She wondered what that must be like. Her great-grandmother was once upon a time a slave, she knew that much. Her great-grandfather met her during the revolution. She had saved him from a militia ambush – or so the family legend went. Beyond that? There were ruins of course. Great stone ziggurats, now clustered with areological digs as archaeologists attempted to piece together a history of Caracasus.

Still, it was the future she was here to discuss. In particular....

And here they were. The Watersvillian immigration and naturalisation officials. Two men and a woman. All dressed in suits that made her relatively simple clothing seem somewhat out of place. The portraits clearly disapproved. She shook hands with them, smiling and exchanging pleasantries. They sat. She gestured to the teas and coffees laid out, having learned from experience that on occasion other societies rather expected a member of staff to bring such refreshments to them.

“So you have been told the nature of this Caracasusian?”

The woman nodded. “Indeed. My colleges here are from the Cardinal University. Dr Ibrahim specialises in quantum computing, and Dr Levi specialises in philosophy. Please, if you could give us a quick overview.”

She nodded. “Of course. The Caracasusian in question is named Light/gold/shade in which we see trees/sand. Place of harmony within and without and a division of self.. It is... uh, as explained an artificial intelligence. Fourth generation. I understand it goes by the name LGS, for short.”

“And may we ask LGS some questions?”

The Caracasusian flipped open the case. A warm, slightly mechanical voice emerged.

“Hello.”

One of the Watersvillians spoke.

“Hello LGS. If I may ask, why do you wish to obtain Watersvillian citizenship?”

---

The Engineer

Raef Tige Operations Base. Spaceport of the Commonwealth

The Raef Tigens called it BEA-RT. The Caracasusians had knowingly called it the Five Hundred Year Plan. The Watersvillians hadn't named the expedition yet, unusually. The Uan aa Boan's referred to it as their nation's greatest stride into the unknown. The loose coalition of powers had all arrived at the same viewpoint, more or less. Humanity should not, could not, be confined to one planet.

Actions created reactions, blurring and muddied until it became difficult to tell exactly what had preceded what. Was the Watersvillian interest in late 80's utopian sci-fi a reflection of the nation's collective ambition to reach the stars? The deliberately obtuse gnomic koans of the Raef Tigean Neognostic “cult” seemed to reflect the temporary nature of existence and the permanence of life. Reflected upon in many ways, they could well point towards an underlying desire to strike out for the unknown. Occasionally edited (and with several episodes considered counter-revolutionary and completely removed) Caracasusian sci-fi shows were watched by millions in Uan aa Boa, alongside party broadcasts updating the people on the nation's contributions to the greatest stride into the unknown.

She watched from the windowed compound as the Raef Tigean vessel was towed to the launchpad. Chainlink fence barely visible in the background. Dew on the grass. Space was on everybody's mind again – the crowds by the gates were testament enough to that. News crews and spectators, in Raef Tige, as in Caracasus, the line between citizen and reporter were blurred to the point that a distinction was often impossible.

”I hope it works” was the mantra she repeated to herself over and over. The three nations that had contributed the most in terms of technological material to the mission each had their own designs of ship. The Watersvillian Mk7 Launcher could be said to be roughly similar to the Caracasusian made Jevellit 5 launcher. Until you looked more closely, and noticed that Watersvillian locking units were approximately half a meter smaller than the Caracasusian ones. Engineering teams from many nations had poured over the designs, seeing which nation's craft could change what.

And that was before you examined the software... good gods.... the baseline code for Caracasusian computing had to be practically re-written so that the Caracasusian systems would talk to the Raef Tigean ones. Even the damn toilets had to be re-programmed! The Raef Tigean oxygen recycling system was by far the best design, so it was adopted onto the other vessels. Trouble was, to do so involved rigging up parallel systems across sixteen different spacecraft...

I hope it works. A good mantra.

“Excuse me?” She turns around. A man is standing in the doorway, early morning sun filtering through the windows causes him to squint somewhat. He moves to a more comfortable position. Wearing his space flight suit, metallic blue. He smiles, it is somewhat forced.

She remembers him. A man named Andrew – from Uan she gathered – far too late of course. Six weeks ago they had celebrated the final launch ready confirmation. Far too drunk and more than a little under the influence of something a junior scientist had cooked up in his spare time she'd begun loudly telling all who would listen about her sister who had fought in the Internationalist Brigades. She'd talked of the battle of Uan – her sister's unit caught up as they liberated the capital. She'd noticed Andrew then – just looking at her. It was after, of course that someone had...

“Excuse me Jann. We're nearly ready.” She coughs, nods.

“Of course. I will be with you in a minute.”

The two walk, both dressed alike, down the corridor to the pre-launch waiting room.

[Significance]

Alert!

To: Any nation/s willing to help.
From: Grubicon Inc.

Hello all. My name is Frederick Gruber, founder and Manager of Grubicon Inc. 12 hours ago, we received a distress signal from our colony ship, USS Enterprise. At the time, she would of been 1/6th of way to Mars, just past the Moon after stopping to refuel.

Sadly, while we do have supply ships that go to the Moon for supply runs, these vehicles only have limited crews, as well as the base itself. This means, the only ship large enough to house survivors would have to launch from earth, and be built from scratch. This is why I ask your help.

To save the colonists, we must work together to design and build their rescue vehicle, and fast. I have family on board which makes this situation all the more distressing for myself. This rescue mission is of the utmost urgency.

If you can find it within yourself, please contact me so we can arrange to meet on my private island to get started on work. While I am from Significance, I ask you not to get the countries authorities involved. This is my project, and I don't want their bureaucrats and red tape to slow this rescue down.

I hope to hear from you soon, for the colonists sakes.
Signed, F.J Gruber

[Uan aa Boa]

The Rifle, Hoe and Sun
First Edition

Humiliation of Mars Colony for the Super Rich!
Socialists Worldwide Unite in Ridicule of Stricken Capitalist Spaceship

News broke yesterday of a secret plot to transport a number of the world's richest people to a private colony on Mars. The plan now lies in ruins,
however, after a distress signal from the capitalists' vessel was received, forcing the corporation responsible to humiliate itself by begging the international community to mount a rescue mission!

Frederick Gruber, infamous plutocratic proprietor of Grubicon Incorporated, confessed that for all the wealth and technology at the his disposal, and all the corrupt political power of his corporate paymasters, he was powerless to intervene as the stricken spaceship, USS Enterprise, hurtled into the void beyond the orbit of the moon. Any nation willing to mount a rescue was urged to visit Gruber on his private tropical island.

Gruber is from the nation of Significance, an infamously rapacious capitalist hell hole whose government provides no education whatsoever and whose people die, on average, at an outrageous age of less than 25 years, such is the deplorable nature of their enslavement. Even such a corporate wasteland has proved insufficient for Gruber, however, and having made his fortune through immoral and degenerate casinos and the sale of brightly coloured soda drinks believed to contain waste from the nuclear power plants he also owns, he disavowed the nation of his birth and based his exploitative businesses from this tropical hideaway, no doubt to keep himself hidden from the justified wrath of those whose toil has provided his rise to wealth.

The previously secret Mars colony project offered a place on a new world to anyone able to pay the multi-billion credit cost of a ticket. It was flocked to by arch capitalists, no doubt hoping to escape the day they will be called to answer for their numberless crimes and instead begin the rape and destruction of a new planet's environment after they have wreaked so much destruction here on Earth.

Speaking from orbit as he prepares to depart for Mars with the international socialist mission on the vessel Intended Consequences, Cosmonaut First Class and Honorary Peoples' Representative Solomon Lotoa said "This clearly shows the inferiority of capitalist space technology, built like all their contemptible machinery without regard for the lives of the workers called upon to operate it. The coming socialist mission will demonstrate to the world the superiority of collectivised labour over deregulated and botch-ridden bourgeois engineering."

We say let the bosses wait in vain for a rescue mission! We condemn their brazen assumption that those they have oppressed will now further risk their lives in an attempt to save them! Let the imperialists perish in the freezing vacuum of space!

[Watersville]

Near the City of Togo, on Lucious Island, Watersville

Young looked out over the horizon as she had done for the past 8 days. On 4 of those days, she had watched fellow astronauts and team members launch into space. Tomorrow would be her day, and she knew it. She felt almost sick to her stomach with the anticipation for the events that were about to come, however she had not let that get to her. Soon she came back into her apartment where she began to ready herself to try and sleep. As soon as she crawled into her bed, she knew that it was going to be a long night of unrestful sleeping.

12 hours later

"That concludes the checklist. Launch is given the all clear. Ignition of engines is ready. Launch in T-minus 1 minute." Young looked around the cabin and gave a thumbs up to the crew members that were strapped into the rocket. Everyone smiled and gave a thumbs up back. She turned back around. Looking straight up, she awaited the intense pullback that would signal the launch of the craft. She knew that there was someone talking into her ear from the tower, counting down the seconds until it happened, but she gradually tuned him out and awaited the feeling that eventually came. Once it hit, it came hard. She watched the sky begin to come closer and closer as the rocket climbed higher and higher, until eventually the rocket began to turn to reach the orbit of the rest of the spacefaring the rocket, allowing ship. As the rocket continued to flatten out it's trajectory, the rest of the Harmony came into view. Young then took control of the rocket and began to maneuver into position.

3 hours later

The fifth and final piece of the Harmony made the ship a completed rocket capable of reaching Mars. The crew of the fifth section quickly made their way to the main room within the Harmony and quickly the group began to get down to business with Dorothy speak to the group. "Congrats guys, we are officially all put together and ready for our mission to Mars! But first, we need to decide what to name the expedition. Does anyone have any ideas?" Silence filled the room as everyone began to think of what to name this journey they were about to take. After nearly 10 minutes of silence, Dorothy spoke. "That is alright guys, we will come back to it later, in the mean time..."

[Caracasus]

---

From: Caracasus International Affairs and Diplomacy
To: Government of Significance

Greetings.

At approximately 09:15 CST our radioscope devices picked up a transmission from a vessel somewhere between Mars and the Moon.

As you will note from the enclosed, it appears that a citizen of Significance has managed to fund and construct some form of space craft.

At present, Caracasus is studying the situation to determine if it is possible to reach this individual's craft before its life support systems are completely depleted and indeed if it is possible to rescue the craft.

It appears to have been struck with some kind of asteroid, although reports are confusing on the matter.

With regards,

Caracasus International Affairs and Diplomacy.

---

Transcript of communications between Space Station Spirit of Caracasus, Caracasus Observatory Satellite T.U 54B and the derelict space craft. Broadcast in real-time across Caracasus

Spirit of Caracasus: Okay. We're listening. What is the problem here?

Significance Craft: This is the USS Enter... oh thank god! Listen, we don't have a great deal of time. Our space ship has been hit by some sort of object... an asteroid we think... life support is operational, but we're on borrowed time. It took out our thrusters.. our engines....

SoC: Do you have any maneoverability? Patching through Satellite T.U 54B. T.U 54B. Report on position of space craft.

T.U 54B: Checking. Object detected. Irregular pattern of flight. Object is rotating counter-clockwise.

Significance Craft:Yes! That's us! We tried to start the manoeuvring thruster but it threw us in a spiral!

SoC: T.U 54B. Give a report on position. Keep us updated. Real time data.
T.U 54B: Acknowledged. Extending deep array 4. Extended. Broadcasting...

SoC: Who built this? It looks like someone's strapped a Hermann drive and slaved it through conventional propulsion systems... is that... is that pre-century pod design?

Significance Craft It's the property of Grubicon Inc. Trust me, when it's not been hit by an asteroid it works just fine enough!

SoC: Fair enough... fair enough. Can you give me the data on your life support systems? How long do you have left?

Significance Craft: About... about three months. We've pumped everyone apart from essential personnel full of sedatives. That'll take the load off for a while but after that... listen. Can you help?

SoC: We'll do what we can. Listen, you need to stabilize your flight path. Your vessel will be torn apart otherwise. What's left of your thrusters are pulling against... listen – do you have any fuel left at all?

Significance Craft: A little. Auxiliary tank 3 wasn't hit. But we need port thruster 6 to correct our spin. I'd send someone out to patch it through, but we've got no idea of what the damage is like on the exterior. I can't send one of my people out without knowing what they're going to be dealing with.

SoC: Okay. T.U 54B. Can you get an angle on the craft with your deep array? Patch it through to the craft.

T.U 54B: Acknowledged. Transmitting....

---

Caracasusian Space Program launch complex

“People, listen. Even if we wanted to rescue this ship, it is simply impossible to do so”

Shouts, cries from those gathered in the meeting room. The debate over what to do about the stranded vessel had set Caracasusians against each other. More than a few figured that several hundred rich industrialists stranded in space with no hope of rescue wasn't really the concern of Caracasus. Others argued that it was their duty to assist others in need, even if it was their own damn fault they were in trouble. Besides, a Caracasusian vessel rescuing a stranded ship would be one hell of a reason to feel smugly superior for decades to come...

The man continued speaking.

“The fact is that almost every resource we have is earmarked for the Five Hundred Year mission. We have no Jevellit four's on launch pads. Any rescue vessel would have to be designed, constructed and tested before launch. The Significance craft is drifting through what we call deep space. You can't just magic a space craft out of thin air. We simply don't have a spacecraft capable of travelling the distances needed and rendezvousing with the stricken vessel.”

“We do have one craft that could make it. We just wouldn't be able to bring them back to Earth.”

Eyes turned to the scientist sitting close to the door. Confusion.

“We'd have to run some calculations... check the maths but... the colony we've been constructing on Mars is designed for several thousand inhabitants eventually. We're only sending a vanguard. A few hundred, counting the Watersvillian and Raef Tige colonists. The stricken ship is only two thousand kilometres from the flight path of the Intended Consequences. We could meet up with them, tow the ship. It'll take an extra week to reach Mars.... and there's always a chance of failure... but we could rescue them.”

---

Mars. 23 KM from equatorial landing zone A


Artist's impression of the colony. Approx. 10 years after construction. Note the water purification tanks and modular construction material. These would be supplied in part by the hull and systems from the Intended Consequences

Six years ago, two space craft entered Mars's atmosphere. Screaming stars fell from the heavens before thrusters tapered off their descent. Of the twenty eight construction vehicles landed on the surface, one failed to land. Its wreckage was already buried and forgotten. The Red Planet's first real casualty.

These unmanned vehicles executed simple programs, guided by the craft that bought them there, now orbiting as watchful angels. Satellites transmitting information to and fro.

The cavern chosen stretched a full sixty kilometers. Over three kilometers at its widest, a set of weathered cliff faces provided natural steps down into the depths of the cavern. With the artificial magnetosphere in orbit, solar radiation would taper off considerably. Another half-kilometer into the cavern the sprawling tunnel complex that would house the first permanent settlement on Mars was already under construction.

The red rock gave way with some ease to the drills, excavation buckets hauling the material to the surface where robotic cranes would lift and build a great artificial wall around the complex. Aquifer drills probed gingerly, picking out ice deposits. Already Mars's resources were being used. Ice became water, water became high-powered jets cleaning the tools and machinery that excavated further.

The tunnels would provide shelter. Above surface, the great dome would provide space to grow food and take in what light there was. The robots were working to schedule. The construction of the colony was all but finished. Wiring carefully pieced through by robots the size and shape of rats. Plumbing. All it required now was a spark of life.

The waiting colony slept on.

[Uan aa Boa]

From: The Revolutionary Workers' Council, Uan aa Boa
To: The Royal House of Waters City and Watersville
Fraternal greetings.

In light of our nations' shared involvement in missions to colonise Mars, and considering recent unexpected developments such as contact with a previously unknown population on Titan and the request for assistance from a corporately owned colonisation craft, it seems remiss that we have not until now entered into more open diplomatic relations.

It is the Council's hope that a meeting between our diplomatic representatives may be convened as soon as possible.

Anticipating your prompt response.

Respectfully,

Peoples' Representative Kincholo Ede

From: The Revolutionary Workers' Council, Uan aa Boa
To: The Director General of the Commonwealth and its Assembly, Raef Tige
Fraternal greetings.

In light of our nations' shared involvement in missions to colonise Mars, and considering recent unexpected developments such as contact with a previously unknown population on Titan and the request for assistance from a corporately owned colonisation craft, it seems remiss that we have not until now entered into more open diplomatic relations.

It is the Council's hope that a meeting between our diplomatic representatives may be convened as soon as possible.

Anticipating your prompt response.

Respectfully,

Peoples' Representative Kincholo Ede

[Significance]

(Image)

---

From: Caracasus International Affairs and Diplomacy
To: Government of Significance

Greetings.

At approximately 09:15 CST our radioscope devices picked up a transmission from a vessel somewhere between Mars and the Moon.

As you will note from the enclosed, it appears that a citizen of Significance has managed to fund and construct some form of space craft.

At present, Caracasus is studying the situation to determine if it is possible to reach this individual's craft before its life support systems are completely depleted and indeed if it is possible to rescue the craft.

It appears to have been struck with some kind of asteroid, although reports are confusing on the matter.

With regards,

Caracasus International Affairs and Diplomacy.

---

Transcript of communications between Space Station Spirit of Caracasus, Caracasus Observatory Satellite T.U 54B and the derelict space craft. Broadcast in real-time across Caracasus

Spirit of Caracasus: Okay. We're listening. What is the problem here?

Significance Craft: This is the USS Enter... oh thank god! Listen, we don't have a great deal of time. Our space ship has been hit by some sort of object... an asteroid we think... life support is operational, but we're on borrowed time. It took out our thrusters.. our engines....

SoC: Do you have any maneoverability? Patching through Satellite T.U 54B. T.U 54B. Report on position of space craft.

T.U 54B: Checking. Object detected. Irregular pattern of flight. Object is rotating counter-clockwise.

Significance Craft:Yes! That's us! We tried to start the manoeuvring thruster but it threw us in a spiral!

SoC: T.U 54B. Give a report on position. Keep us updated. Real time data.
T.U 54B: Acknowledged. Extending deep array 4. Extended. Broadcasting...

SoC: Who built this? It looks like someone's strapped a Hermann drive and slaved it through conventional propulsion systems... is that... is that pre-century pod design?

Significance Craft It's the property of Grubicon Inc. Trust me, when it's not been hit by an asteroid it works just fine enough!

SoC: Fair enough... fair enough. Can you give me the data on your life support systems? How long do you have left?

Significance Craft: About... about three months. We've pumped everyone apart from essential personnel full of sedatives. That'll take the load off for a while but after that... listen. Can you help?

SoC: We'll do what we can. Listen, you need to stabilize your flight path. Your vessel will be torn apart otherwise. What's left of your thrusters are pulling against... listen – do you have any fuel left at all?

Significance Craft: A little. Auxiliary tank 3 wasn't hit. But we need port thruster 6 to correct our spin. I'd send someone out to patch it through, but we've got no idea of what the damage is like on the exterior. I can't send one of my people out without knowing what they're going to be dealing with.

SoC: Okay. T.U 54B. Can you get an angle on the craft with your deep array? Patch it through to the craft.

T.U 54B: Acknowledged. Transmitting....

---

Message to Caracasus

To: Caracasus International Affairs and Diplomacy.
From: Significance science program.

Hello, my name is Doctor Frankenstein Damon. This message was passed on to me by my government, as I was contracted from my government to Grubicon Inc to design and help build their colony program.

As such, I must inform you that if you wish to help with the rescue attempt, it would be best to contact Grubicon Inc. If you choose to do so, I can give you contact details and co-ordinates to their private island. If you would also like my help, considering my role in the project, I can arrange to meet you on the island.

Best of luck whatever happens.
Signed Frankenstein Damon.

Grubicon Island, 100 miles south west of Significance

"Thank you Frankenstein for intercepting this message. It is nice to know someone distrusts the Significance government as much as I do".

Frederick Gruber sat back in his rubberized reclining chair, quickly looking out the window in his metal and glass office, overlooking the oven a few hundred feet below, sun shining brightly, as he smoked his latest model of e-cigarette.

Despite the lovely day, Frankenstein had his face set in stone.

"It's not a matter of trust, simply that this is your project and you deserve to salvage it yourself. I presume from the recording it's also important to you because of family. While I am an orphan, I have noted how others are attached to family"

Frederick frowned, he didn't like being analysed.

"It doesn't matter why we rescue the ship. Perhaps the board of directors are harassing me over this incident. What matters is you helping me and whoever comes here to save the ship".

He took a sharp breath.

"Now how long before we are likely to here from Caracasus?"

Frankenstein giggled slightly, he couldn't help it. Winding people up had recently become a habit for him.

"It depends. From my experience, Caracasus has the efficiency of a beached whale trying to tap dance. If you want my advice, work with what else you get for the time being, Caracasus will come eventually. Luckily when they do, it'll be with a lot of resources".

Frederick clapped his hands together in satisfaction.

"Thank you Frankenstein"

He quickly frowned.

"Now get out before I decide to throw something at that smug face of yours"

Frankenstein couldn't resist.

"But all I see on that shiny glass desk of yours is paperwork, and that would make an awful mess if thrown".

Before Frederick could respond, Frankenstein slipped out through the big metal door, the last part of him being seen being his long black hair. Frederick sighed as he slumped in his chair, an ever growing frown on his face.

Now he waited.

[Avrellon]

((OOC: I signed up for this a while back, but was late posting due to some IRL stuff going on.))

Launch Pad 7A
North Point Space Center
Federal Republic of Avrellon
09:38:12 UTC

T-minus ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.

Ignition sequence start.

With those three words, seven million pounds of some of the most complex machinery ever devised by man swung into action. Before the announcer had even finished saying those words, an electrical signal was already making its way from the launch tower into the bowels of the Prometheus VI launch vehicle, triggering an incredibly complex series of events. Inside the cavernous engine bell of each of the rocket's colossal K-3 main engines, four pyrotechnic igniters bust into flame. Mere milliseconds later, several hundred gallons of liquid oxygen rushed through the LOX pump and into the gas generator, revving the turbine into high gear. Then, at last, the floodgates were well and truly opened, as massive neodymium-tungsten start solenoids sent galllons upon gallons of hypergolic fluid, followed in turn by liquid oxygen and kerosene, coursing through the rocket's metal arteries, past the turbines and pumps, and into the engine bell, where, upon making contact, they convulsed into incandescent orange flame with a colossal, earth-shaking baritone roar that could be heard from miles away.
For five long seconds the engines burned, only barely held back from rushing headlong into the heavens by dozens of launch clamps.
Then the announcer said it:

Liftoff.

On either side of the launch vehicle, massive solid rocket boosters ignited. As the strain on the launch pad itself grew closer and closer to the breaking point, the launch clamps released, their timing precise down to the microsecond.
Released from its earthly shackles, the rocket shuddered upward, slowly at first, then faster, surging upward atop a column of luminous smoke and fire as it rolled exactly 86.35 degrees counterclockwise, its every movement carefully watched and regulated by a host of onboard computers, reaction wheels, and Vernier thrusters. With every passing second, a full seventeen tons of liquid oxygen and RP-1 were vaporized as the rocket began its long climb skywards. At the top of the launch vehicle, the eight-astronaut crew of the Ares 2 mission were forced back into their acceleration seats with two and a half times the force of gravity.

Accelerating upwards, the rocket began to gently pitch eastward as it started its gravity turn, carrying it towards its eventual target, the Hyperion Mars Transfer Vehicle.

[Caracasus]

---

From Caracasus Space Program
To Grubicon Inc.

Regarding potential rescue mission

Caracasus Space Program has been informed that your company is soley responsible for the construction and planning of the mission undertaken.

As I am certain you are aware, Caracasus is attempting to work out a plan to rescue those currently stranded.

We have used our deep space arrays to assess the damage to your craft. Due to the co-operation between the Caracasusian Space Station and the engineers on board, the craft is now stable and should remain so until supplies are exhausted.

Our best estimates place survival rate at approximately three months provided no other systems prove to be compromised. After this time, it is likely that difficult decisions will have to be made on board the ship.

After careful consideration, it appears that those stranded on the vessel can potentially be rescued. The Caracasusian ship Intended Consequences will be passing within several thousand kilometres of the stranded vessel. With minor adjustments and a slight delay the Intended Consequences should be able to rescue those stranded on board.

Those rescued would then be taken aboard the Intended Consequences to the joint colony project on Mars. Return can be arranged at a later date via your company.

To aid us in our recovery efforts we must have access to the following information:

Complete and unrestricted access to all material pertinent to the ship design including patented material and blueprints.
Access and transfer of prototype systems to Caracasusian laboratories for study.
Full medical and biographical information on all crew and passengers.
Access and full co-operation with all scientists, flight technicians and engineers involved in the project.

A delegation has been placed on standby to travel to the island claimed by your company to ensure this handover of information goes as planned, and to work closely with your ground crew so that a timely and successful rescue can be made.

With Regards,

Caracasus Space Program.

---

Uan aa Boa – Caracasusian Embassy

The doctor lounged nonchalantly on his deckchair. His name was old Anzique. A blend of the indigenous languages and the names given to the slaves the empire had shipped over in great numbers. Jaan Ap-Tari. No wonder the nickname “doc” had stuck with such force. In Caracasusian, the distinction between the hard, guttural consonant sounds was difficult to discern, and frankly he preferred “doc” anyway.

His drink grew warm in his hand. Gazing out across the ocean he saw the faint outline of a Caracasusian war ship. A Shotel class carrier. Blister pods across its hull pointing out drone swarms. The planes would be secured beneath decks. A few drones could be seen, faintly. Sickle drones no doubt. Patrolling the area.

He shivered, in spite of the sun. Things must be more serious than he thought.

Thing is, we've never really bought into the entire “projection of power” thing. He mused. How many carriers do we have? Six?. Not for the first time he wished he had access to more information. Uan aa Boa media likely wouldn't report a major threat if the Revolutionary Worker's Council didn't deem it necessary to do so, or (more likely) thought that reporting the potential threat might give assistance and aid to Uan aa Boa's internal and external enemies.

He wasn't off by much. The chaotic, mis-matched political wrangling of Caracasus had thrown up a power that acted bizarrely on the world stage, at least in terms of military presence. A healthy (and many argued justifiable) paranoia of military intervention from other powers had ensured a strong defensive force. Too weak by half, claimed their allies. Bristling with missiles and paranoia, their enemies. Take into account the volunteer nature of Caracasus's armed forces, with each division or ship voting on whether or not it wished to be involved in a conflict and things got more and more unpredictable the further from Caracasus you got. Entire wars had been avoided simply because not enough Caracasusian units had volunteered for involvement. In the best of cases, war had been avoided and situations oversees had calmed significantly, leaving everyone rather relieved that problems had been solved without tanks and bombs. In the worst cases... one only had to look to Oehiton.

The Shotel Class carrier and its sister ships represented a sizeable fraction of Caracasus's projected military power. Why they were present was, at least for the moment, anyone's guess.

Commander Elect Nanaya paced the deck of the carrier. She'd read the mission statement and re-read it. The parts she was allowed to circulate she had. Biting her nails she opened up her comms device and ran through the schedules for the following week, salt spray in her hair and face. It stuck, as salt spray always does. The orders still made no sense, whatever way she looked at them. Her commission as officer, as commander, depended as it always had on the support and votes of her crew. The knot in her stomach. Should this mission go badly... should something unforeseen happen...

[Caracasus]

Grubicon Island



“So it wasn't enough that he built his own island, he named it after himself as well?”

The Caracasusian Guerilla leaned over the side of the little skiff boat and spat into the water. Phlegm bobbed on the waves and dispersed. His comrade turned and pointed.

“Hey! Check that out!”

A great glass tower loomed out of the mist. Blinking red and yellow lights appeared first, cutting through to warn passing aircraft. An array of satellite dishes that looked as if they could pick out the pimples on a cosmonaut's face on the surface of the moon. Then the tower. A great black glass edifice of permanence. It cut through reality as if it were a hole in the universe. It looked as if it had been there forever, and would, long after the heat death of the universe, continue. Drifting through space.

“Think someone is overcompensating?” spoke one of the Guerillas. She wiggled her little finger in the air to accentuate the crude joke. Some of them on the boat laughed. The engineers and scientists laughed in a slightly forced way.

Understandable really. Even if you volunteered to go to an island that was seemingly operated by a tyrant who had established his own terrifying technofeudalistic mega-corporation with its own laws, its own police force and its own army... even if you're accompanied by some of the very best special forces operatives Nineday House had to offer... you were never going to be exactly comfortable.

No-one really knew what to expect, which meant that the island itself did not come as too much of a surprise. They skirted the beaches and luxurious condominiums built for the ultra-rich. Palm trees and fences to keep the riff-raff at bay. Even from the skiff they could see the black clad security forces on guard should someone attempt to access a view that they had not paid for.

The docks were a different story. Much of the process had been automated, and if it were not for the ever-present advertising it was not dissimilar to a dockland anywhere in Caracasus. Huge cargo freighters unloaded their wares. A few bored looking workers in hi-viz jackets oversaw the unloading of cargo, only intervening when a machine broke or did something it should not.

Seagulls and salt. The skiff took them to a separate landing jetty where they disembarked. A set of six or so small electric vehicles waited for them – painted white roofs and black cabins. Pleasantries were exchanged with the uniformed drivers who bade them enter.

The woman in Paleo's car smiled and exchanged pleasantries. The two Caracasusian Guerillas sitting either side of him nodded and got down to their businesslike job of looking slightly bored and slightly menacing. When he probed deeper, asking about the island beyond the usual the driver simply smiled, not taking her hands of the wheel of the little car and said that Mr Gruber would be on hand to answer their questions.

He was. Immaculately dressed in the very latest fashion of business suits; three buttons, one undone. Twice-wrapped. Wool weave most likely, though faint traces of something else within it.

”Scattering weave” muttered one of the Guerillas. ”Bulky for his age too. Body armour under that suit?” Paleo smiled a very fragile smile and walked up to introduce himself.

---

The Outcast

Jevellit Province


The imposing concrete walls had faded over time. Here and there patchwork brick repairs had been conducted – the buildings a mish-mash of new and old styles. Cracks of brick ran like scars across the much-repaired apartment blocks and other buildings whose purposes were only hinted at. Brutalist architecture dominated the area. Function over what little form they possessed.

The wall surrounding the complex was larger here, and more intimidating. Many had sprayed anti-communist graffiti across it (a taboo in itself. Words on walls were meant to be fluid – changing. Permanency of spray paint was frowned upon.) Rusty barbed wire clung to the top of the wall, and gathered around watch-towers like crows' nests. Green-clothed guards with red armbands lazily held antique looking projectile rifles. Carbon arc searchlights hung useless in the midday sun.

Beyond the wall and fence, six high-rise apartment blocks pushed their way into the sky. Jagged antennae scattered their rooftops. Grey concrete once more. Propaganda posters telling citizens to inform on traitors to the Party, to conserve rations and to attend speeches (mandatory! The words read) littered the walls. The Caracasusian flag flew from every building, often more than once. It littered the insignia and armbands of the guards.

The checkpoint was manned by a slightly overweight and balding official. Decked in his uniform he was busy stamping official documents printed, smudged of course, on thrice recycled poor quality paper that was almost transparent when held up to the light. Three guards flanked him. Two men and a woman. Bulky, eyes almost permanently fixed in hostility. Polished leather holsters. Their eyes pinned him to the wall almost, as he entered. Fixed him.

The grubby official held out his hand. “Random search. Give me your bags and your identification papers. The guards will escort you to search you...”

Emir sighed. “Piss off mate. Open the bloody gates will you?”

The official's face fell. The guards looked sulky.

“Hey! You're not playing fair!” he whined. “You're supposed to...”

Emir spoke again. “Look. I'm here to see Dr Pheros OK? That's all. Open the bloody gate will you?”

The gate creaked open, screeching slightly. Emir wondered if they had someone carefully rust the hinges just so to get that all important atmosphere right.

Them. Usually Caracasusians were pretty good at accepting whatever names the various tendencies or groups within their borders dreamt up. Them... the nickname had stuck.

They were nothing like the Cajji, with their sad little photocopied banknotes, “jobs” (If you could call selling bootlegged imported movies to tourists a job). At least the Cajji had the good graces to conduct themselves as malcontent rebellious kids. Took on the slur of profiteer. Gold on leather jackets. Music blaring from speakers telling them to “get rich or die trying” in a country where it was impossible to do either.

Them... though they broke no law as such (unlike the Cajji, for instance) they were guilty of something far worse in the eyes of the average Caracasusian. They were guilty of bad taste. No-one really knew how far they took their ridiculous play acting seriously – for some it was undoubtedly a game. Why else would you deliberately re-create food shortages and rationing in your communes when a call to IndTrad would have the depots overflowing? Why else would you have a library full of books that had been “censored” even though anyone could access any information available to the rest of the country and beyond via any of the terminals?


Emir walked through the streets. A line of Caracasusians stoicly gathered, waiting for rations outside a depot. Paint flecked from cheap whitewashing. Posters adorned every lamp post. A few tourists walked around, pointing, taking pictures. A couple tried to talk to those in the breadline. For the most part, those in the breadline played their part well in the charade, feigning fear and refusing to speak.

It's not even that accurate a depiction mused Emir. It's like they modelled themselves on a Parsohian propaganda film and scaled it up past eleven.

Here and there, Caracasus's real police force, IntSec lounged about. Part of the agreement that allowed this little enclave of bad taste was a strong IntSec presence to ensure no-one was really being oppressed. In a way the little enclave had sort of gotten its wish. There were more IntSec officers per square mile in this place compared to the rest of the country. Mostly they seemed to be discretely reading things on their comms devices. It was hardly a popular posting.

An electric bus hummed past, skirting around a rickety streetcar. This early on in the day it likely carried children to various educational establishments. Another part of the agreement. Emir shook his head as the loudspeaker tower crackled and fizzed with feedback before launching into a suitably patriotic sounding instrumental.

“Good Morning Citizens! Bread rations will be increased by sixteen per-cent in the next quarter, providing that production quotas continue to be exceeded. Glory to our nation! Remember to report subversives to the Department of Security. That is all.”

Emir laughed, in spite of himself. Several passing people dressed in suitably ragged clothing and a couple of uniformed “soldiers” glared at him. Still, he was nearly there.

Dr Pheros. He had found her apartment. Wondering if the buzzer and intercom had been deliberately altered to malfunction, or if it was merely happy chance, he called up the building officer and was buzzed in.

The grey carpet, dashed with unidentifiable stains felt odd underfoot. Noise of televisions, an argument, a radio from behind flimsy wooden doors. Propaganda posters in the hallway. Dr Pheros' apartment. One seven eight...

He knocked on the door. A stern looking woman with pinned back wavy black hair opened the door. Greying at the roots...

It had aged her. Hell, it had aged all of them. He showed her his badge. Then he gave her the other sign. The one that only a handful of people would recognise, and from that select handful very few would be able to answer.

“Dr Pheros. We need you again.”

---

---

From: Caracasus International Affairs and Diplomacy
To: Federal Republic of Avrellon

We wish to congratulate you on the successful launch of your Ares 2 mission. As we are sure your nation is fully aware, many other nations are attempting to establish a presence on Mars.

In the interests of international co-operation and to further detail the way forward for the entire of humanity, we would cordially invite your ambassadors to Caracasus for a reception and meetings with the Caracasus Space Program so that the first steps towards a co-operative relationship between the various presences on Mars can be established.

We all stand to gain from international co-operation in these ventures.

With Regards,

Caracasus International Affairs and Diplomacy.

[Uan aa Boa]

The argument between the two friends made its way the whole length of the bustling, twilit street and then, because it was too late to get back to their commune before serving ended, continued in the neighbourhood canteen. The room fell quiet as two unfamiliar Council officials entered. Bidding a good evening to the each comrade they passed and waving away those who tried to give up their places, Adeema and Tsente jointed the queue. Had she not already been so filled with righteous indignation, Adeema would have been annoyed at the instinctive deference, might have stopped to explain that a tram driver or a cleaner should be shown no less respect than a Representative. A matronly woman heaped mashed yam and beans into bowls. Surrounded by curious faces, the discussion was awkwardly halted until the two had taken their seats on the most sparsely occupied of the long wooden tables.

“Watersville,” Adeema sighed again. “A monarchy. A capitalist monarchy. That’s all I’m saying.”

“He isn’t really a king,” her companion replied. “You need to read the briefings. He was elected. He’s more of a figure head. Anyway, it’s the parliament that counts.”

“Elected too no doubt? The hollow tyranny of the majority.”

Tsente reflected that had Adeema been five years older, had she fought in the civil war or played a greater role in the final push than that of a child throwing stones, she would have been spared this constant drive to prove herself. There was no need. Aside from the obvious fact that everyone was equal, her status as one of the rising stars of the Council couldn’t be denied.

“Read the briefings. Truly, they have no poverty. Their hospitals want for nothing, their schools are exemplary. They live in peace, with the world and with each other. You should see the reality, not just the titles. And consider, you are not called to be like them, only to represent us to them.” Recognising the expression, the older man spread his hands to forestall the outburst. “Truly, you should be happy. Every one of the people moving to the Diplomatic Council is noted for their talent, zeal and dedication. It is an honour to be counted in their number. And remember,” he knew it was the trump card, “it is the beloved Comrade Chairman himself who asks it.”

“I do not question his wisdom.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Yet I do not understand. For all these years the Diplomatic Council has been small and unimportant. What is different now?”

“It is not for me to say. And yet, if you can keep my confidence, I will tell you what I think.” Adeema nodded. “Before, there was no-one to talk to. The condemnations, the sanctions. When there was something to say, we let Caracasus say it for us. No longer.”

“The beloved Comrade Chairman considers them our comrades.”

“And so they are. But many are troubled. I should not speak of this. Forgive me.”

“You are like a father to me, comrade. I do not gossip.”

“You do not. Comrade, the rumours you have heard are true. The Intended Consequences will rescue the capitalist spacecraft. After inviting our participation, Caracasus puts us in the most embarrassing of positions. We will be their lapdog no longer. That is why we must speak to the nations in our own right.”

There was a silence, which Tsente took advantage of to finish his now lukewarm beans.

“But a monarchy!”

“You had no complaint all these years we have embraced Caracasus, a land so crazy that a regiment may vote on whether to follow its orders.”

She smiled. As they finished eating, people began to lift the tables and carry them from the hall. Curtains were opened to reveal a cinema screen.

“And now,” said Tsente, “we cannot insult the hospitality of this commune. We shall watch the Broadcast here, and then participate in their entertainments.”

[Watersville]

Grace Lake, Watersville

The lake was all that remained of the now dormant volcano that had formed the main island that now made up the nation of Watersville. Joseph now stood at the highest point of the island, looking down the slopes that led down to the coast. Rainwater had collected over hundreds of years and had helped to create the lake that he now stood beside. The sky's were clear for the moment, however rain was nearby on the horizon. The king stood for a moment longer before walking back down the path to the main parking lot where his bicycle waited. He quickly walked past the guard that had been assigned to him. He looked over the guard and shook his head. He had no clue why the parliament required that he have a guard with him at all times. He had made this trip plenty of times by himself. Or, at least, before the events that took place during the conflict on the Iberis Peninsula. He still had nightmares over the attempts on his life, from the attack in the theater, to the high speed car chase that he was involved in, to the airplane crash he had had in Caracasus while in hiding. He was still in close contact with several of the people he had met there and had purchased a new aircraft to replace the one that he had crashed in. He quickly hopped back onto his bike and turned around to the security guard who nodded. Joseph smiled, before heading back down toward the palace.

Several hours later

Joseph stood in the rose garden of the palace with the host of the Caracasusian Version of The Amazing Race. The show followed teams as they raced around the world and completed tasks. Joseph stood now on the mat at the finish line of the Watersvillian leg of the race with the host of the television show. At this point in the race, 6 teams remained in the race. He had already welcomed the top 5 teams and was about to meet the sixth and final team racing. The team reached the mat and the host welcomed them to the mat. Joseph smiled "Welcome to Waters City, Watersville." The team was then told they had arrived 6th and that they had been eliminated from the race. In 12 hours the remaining 5 teams were leaving and where they would go next Joseph did not know, however Joseph was excited to see how the season would go.

From: The Royal House of Waters City and Watersville
To: The Revolutionary Workers' Council of Uan aa Boa

Greetings,
We are delighted to hear of your interest in creating relations between our two nations. We are glad to either invite your delegates to Watersville or to send delegates to your nation. In either case, we are hopeful that the future of our relationship will help to ensure that the world will prosper together.

With respect,
His Royal Highness Joseph Watters

[Uan aa Boa]

The Rifle, Hoe and Sun
3rd of Second Spring, Year 10

Terrorists from Caracasus

A group of Caracasusian terrorists was arrested last night in Kikoto district, where they were planning to bomb a railway depot. The plot was discovered after they began distributing anarchist pamphlets among the workers of the surrounding collective farms and inciting them to join in similar attacks. The terrorists badly underestimated the patriotism of our comrades, however, and within hours numerous calls had been made to the authorities.

The arrested men and women belong to the Caracasusian faction Strange Tenancy, which has long been hostile to the revolution in Uan aa Boa. According to the pamphlets seized in Kikoto, they insist that the removal of crops from the collective farms in accordance with the Second Economic Plan represents a violation of the “civil rights” of the farm workers.

“Civil rights” is, of course, foremost among the reasons given by the imperialist and capitalist nations of the West for their condemnation of Uan aa Boa and their imposition of trade sanctions. Investigations are underway to determine if the Caracasusian plotters were in league with these oppressive powers. The chief investigator, Peoples’ Representative Simon Wangui, said last night “There are many herds, but all gather at one water hole.”

No comment has been made from Caracasus. It is very difficult to establish the official opinion of this notoriously evasive nation, but whether or not it supports Strange Tenancy it certainly tolerates its activities.

“Caracasus is technically a socialist society” explains Professor Lote Changa of The Uan aa Boa State University, “because the means of production is owned by the workers, but their lingering attachment to the bourgeois notion of civil rights means that, to them, all kinds of government organisation are an attack on freedom. I can understand how strange that must sound to most Uan aa Boans, but I can recommend the beloved Comrade Chairman’s recent speech to the Revolutionary Educational Programme as an excellent introduction to those who would like to know more about so called civil rights.”

Anais Kandiah of the Revolutionary Workers’ Council with Responsibility for the Exterior agrees. “Strange Tenancy’s slogan is “There can be no transitional state”” she explains, “which means they expect the overthrow of capitalism to lead only to an anarchist state like Caracasus. It’s true that in a “vote” last year – and I use the word carefully concerning a nation with no understanding of democratic centralism – most Caracasusians approved of our revolution, but have you noticed how they insist on calling us “the interim government”? In their arrogance they too assume that any nation that rejects capitalism must want to be like them.”

We say that terrorists and subversives must be held to account! Caracasus speaks the words of friendship but harbours our enemies! Ceaseless vigilance, comrades!

On other pages:
Drugs allegations against Caracasusian Amazing Race team.
The Flatulence of the Buffalo at Sunset – 10 Caracasusian commune names you won’t believe!
Meat, wine and tobacco – a typical day of “freedom” in Caracasus.