The following copyrighted franchises belong to their proper owners: GATE: Jietai Kare no Chi nite, Kaku Tatakeri; EA's Battlefield series; Command and Conquer chains (mods included); Frontlines: Fuel of War; Dead Rising series; and Metal Gear Solid sets.

Additionally, aspects in this chapter came from GATE—JSDF fanfics "The Janus Campaign" by kiyone4ever and "GATE: And then the Sun Rises on the Western Front" by Kammachon. Nevertheless, it is a side story occurring in the same 'crazy' universe as to what was happening to Earth inside my main GATE—JSDF fanfiction project.

Prologue

Inside a classified location...

":Ugh... mmm... w-w-what... happened?:" A person grumbles in a male voice and unknown language. Any recognizable silhouette is yet to be found — because the environment is completely pitch-black (rather frightening, isn't it?) The slowly awaken individual speaks, ":W-where... am I? And why is it so dark to see?:"

Moments later, lights appears and apparently brightens an entire room. From this luminescent reveal, two bipedal characters are standing in front of another person sitting on a chair: with a square table keeping the opposite participants at a separate length. One of the upright pair is a bald, human male wearing the government uniform of Russia's Federal Security Service, aka FSB. The other 'individual' has no identifiable signatures while fully covered in a hooded outfit and a metal face plate. On the contrary, the seated figure wore garments that seems to be a mixture of Roman-Medieval designs: such as sleeved tunics underneath the chain-mail armor, braccae, and caligae. Apart from having a dark-colored sac concealing the head of this apparently 'Roman man'; and both arms and legs tightened to the steel furniture by rope.

"Wakey wakey, speculatore!" The faceless interrogator alerts the tied-up being out loud (in an distorted ambience) as 'he' removes the obscuring bag from this person's head — revealing a male face of Caucasian physiques.

The bewildered 'human' evidently see the strange confinement of this room; and appearances of the two 'barbarians' apparently in charge. Confusion also occurs within his mind, when he tries to understand how the 'Roman' got here. ":W-Who are you?!:"

The anonymous questioner turns 'his' head at the Russian personnel and stated, "Etot chelovek sprashivayet nas, ofitser Kirilenko."

The FSB agent non-enthusiastically listened and then turn his sight on the confined man. "YA Arkadiy Kirilenko. Razvedchik po vnutrenney bezopasnosti Rossiyskoy Federatsii." In the "Slavic" language unknown to the confused Roman-like person.

": This human adult here is named Arkadiy Kirilenko. An intelligence official of this frigid, vast land called Russia. :", said the cloth-concealed entity through a more familiar tongue for the restricted man's interests.

": ... You spoke the common language of our Empire?:"

": That is an affirmative for our convenience, speculatore. Still, we are very curious of what you can remember — prior to your sudden loss of consciousness.:"

The Romanesque individual unconsciously says, ": My... loss of consciousness? :"

": An answer concerning your last activities, please. :"

Shortly afterwards, the imprisoned 'speculatore' thinks about the current goals and actions for his Empire's ambitions... and its recent desperation. Despite being the most powerful nation on the continent of Farmalt for sure, there are growing shortages of slave labor and wealth necessary for the economic welfare of the Sandelan-based imperium; in addition to the worrying lack of untapped territories for the great state to plunder and its naval fleets not being effective enough to start any seaborne invasion towards the mysterious continents and archipelagoes on their world. He had assumed, under such circumstances therefore, that his leaders came up some sort of plan to retain the glory of the Empire. Not a true certainty for himself of whenever the divine opening on Arnus Hill was a factor in Imperial progress or what — once the discovery of this magical entry was finally made, anywho; but orders are orders and both the Emperor and Senate are curious about what kind of world the Gate has opened itself to. Therefore, he and at least a dozen of scouts slowly went through the mystical portal... and saw something quite different.

Initially, the unknown buildings looked similar to their brick-laden insulae within Imperial and vassal cities — aside from these structures being a few stories taller and fairly bigger; as well as trees bordering along those edifices. Later though, the servicemen in reconnaissance ventured outward from their origin point of entrance and observed some types of metal carriages without horses and apparently roads made of smooth, blackish substances in contrast to their stone-paved pathways; plus the rune-like letters in an unfamiliar language posted on the buildings. Along the way, they saw people wearing clothes foreign to the speculatores; not to mentioned the fair-skin colors of these inhabitants being very familiar to those belonging to human members of Imperial nobility or other ethnic groups of Man: if not for the possibility brewing within their heads that the medieval soldiers have stumbled on a city of humans. Upon additional exploration, a few of them (including the scouting Sandelan himself) reached the edge of a river... and be awe at towering giants of architecture and glass on the other side that were unlike the grand buildings of granite constructed in the Empire's capital. After a while of sightseeing, his group return to the location of the mystical portal to inform their leaders waiting back on Farmalt.

Nonetheless, several men were noticeably missing when the scouting party came together at the magical pathway. Unwilling to wait though, all available men moved through the Gate and soon made their march from Arnus Hill. Once they had reached the Imperial outpost outside the sacred site, the speculatores inform their military superiors about this strange land beyond the mystical opening — in addition to some soldiers not being accounted for. At the end of the debriefing, the military commander on the field sent out messengers by airborne wyverns for relaying this knowledge to the Empire's Senate and its royal families. Meanwhile, the scouts talk each other about the new land across the Gate as they wait for further instructions: such as the native tongue spoken over there, any magic that could power those iron chariots without animals, and of course the women of that world... that gave a 'peculiar' look at the medieval Sandelans. Then again, maybe those lads in absence had somehow gotten distracted by feminine beauties living within the obviously urban environment; some would jest.

All of that intrigue remain unanswered when their long period of patience has ended a couple days later; due to receiving new orders from the military leaderships: they are to continue gathering intelligence of this otherworldly city that the supernatural doorway has connected to (including the authorization to acquire a handful of unknown inhabitants from that new world for further interrogations). Obediently, the rest of the scouting teams moved back to the alien side of the Gate on Arnus Hill. Half of them were unashamed with taking away people for their slave-based economy; others in contrast — like the speculatore himself — were a bit more reluctant when no war is declared over there. Nonetheless, retaining honor to the Empire took ultimate precedence over any potential for friendlier negotiations. Once their return to the 'barbarian' city was completed, the scouting group proceed with obtaining every 'articles' of knowledge possible: books in that language yet to be deciphered, maps of this world, strange trinkets, and of course... people.

Speaking of the kidnapping however, the last thing that our referred soldier eventually remembers doing was helping two of his army associates bring in a struggling lass closer to the Gate exit. Then... he suddenly felt a hard hit on his forehead and everything went dark. Only to wake up currently inside this room with two unknown individuals looking at him for an answer.

Out of the blue anyway, both hands from the Russian interrogator slam onto the table (interrupting the imprisoned fellow's consolidation on a response). "Nu, u tebya eto seychas yest'?"

": It would be very appreciative of you to immediately explain your existence within a Russian city... foreigner. :" The obscurely clothed questioner advises, while the bald associate stands up again.

Eventually, the interrogated man verbalizes a reply — that doesn't exactly corresponds to his scouting mission. ": Alexandros... Alexandros Del Babineaux. A subordinate of the Empire.:"

The apparently unfazed person in concealed overalls then takes a glance at the 'mildly' irritated Russian; before returning focus on the 'Roman.' ": Does your nation have another name to be called? :"

Alexandros perplexingly responds, ": Why does it need another name? My nation encompasses much of Farmalt through military prowess and gifts from our civilization that it is simply called the Empire. :"

": Really? Not even one identification based around your Imperial capital called Sandela? :"

The surprised captive sputters, ": W-wha-... wha-... How did you know about the important center of our Empire?! :"

"Ostavaytes' v teme, plennik! Tak chto ty delal na ulitsakh Moskvy?" Arkadiy demanded.

": Hmph... let us return to your actions while exploring Russia's major capital, speculatore. :"

Looks like the Sandelan captive has to answer that inquiry immediately. ": Uh... I simply saw how different your city was when compared to larger settlements under Imperial rule. Thus, starting my efforts to understand the strangeness of this 'Roh-shee-ya' you called. :"

"Pah!" Kirilenko scolded. ": Does this mission of understanding had to involve kidnapping my people from their homes? :"

The Romanesque soldier stares at the bald Russian with a surprised face. ": You also spoke my people's tongue? :"

": Well, isn't that quite an observation on my linguistic talents... barbarian. Again though, why were you criminals trying to steal innocent citizens of the Russian Federation?! :"

Despite having some hard feelings of being called a 'barbarian,' Babineaux starts his answer in a fairly controlled composure. ": Imperial orders, men. The Emperor and the Senate have great desire for knowledge on mysterious lands opened by the Gate. :"

Then comes... the weird part: both the interrogators just fixating their attention at the captured speculatore. Half a minute later, they turn their heads towards each other and soon look back at Alexandros. The still-unrevealed individual says, ": A gate powered by your gods that appeared on a holy site of... Arnus? :"

Mystified, the medieval man verbally reacts, ": W-wha... Wait, how could you knew about the things of our world from here!? :" Very soon, he gets a hard slap to his face by one hand from the FSB officer.

": You are not worthy to demand our divulgence concerning your mythical lands, bandit! :"

": ...Ugh... would a man of honor like me go so low as to instill chaos on my own people's liveli- :"

The unidentified interrogator interrupts, ": Wait your tongue, soldier! You will be allowed to receive answers, when we tell you to. On the subject of further interrogation meanwhile, has a single thought of disobedience toward capturing non-combatants crossed your mind? :"

": ...D-D-Disobedience? I am not insane to incur the Empire's wrath on my nomadic family and myself by betraying my oath to its legions! :"

": Yeah... quite reluctant for me to completely acknowledge your predicaments, speculatore. Unfortunately, you and your scouting lads had to be held as prisoners of this encampment here. :"

The restrained human expresses in disbelief, ": Others from our scouting party are now at your mercy? :"

": All of them, in fact! Still, let us hope that your leaders do not waste more men for their own delusions of conquering Mother Russia. :" Arkadiy answered.

": Delusions, you say? What would make you two confident to take on hundreds of thousands of legionaries in service to the most powerful state in Farmalt? :"

The mysteriously veiled individual responds, ": Well... it is pretty much every goddamn weaponry of unspeakable destruction that we are yet to be privy about. Until the reveal does happen notwithstanding, I would really appreciate your silence and patience for my next maneuver today. :"

Officer Kirilenko voices his uncertainty, "Ty uveren v etom, zhestyanaya golova? Mne bylo by khorosho, yesli by zdes' zvuchala lyubaya russkaya muzyka, no raznoobraznyy spisok pesen, kotoryye vy prinesli v etot zal iz drugikh mest, mozhet dat' nashemu plenniku nevernyye vpechatleniya ob istorii i kul'ture moyey natsii."

"Ne zhaleyu ob etom, ser." The face-concealed interrogator bends down and soon straight up with some strange items from an unseen container being handheld to the Sadelan's eyes (To modern viewers, they are two audio speakers and an electronic device for both containing data files of music and playing them). The said objects are then placed on top of the table. "Krome togo, rasslab'tes'. YA nachnu s neskol'kikh russkikh narodnykh pesen." After such reassurance was spoken, the bipedal mystery interacts the rectangular gadget by hand for a specific playlist to start. Soon enough, a collection of Russian-related music has been played.

The Roman-like captive is quite startled at hearing cultural sounds coming out of these 'magical' items. For both the interrogators notwithstanding, it's not a 'big' deal on the musical audio associated with Russian folk songs. While the artistic reverberations are happening inside the interrogation room, one viewer might expects the noises to perceptibly leak out of there.

XXXXXXXX

Fairly frankly however, the armored bipedal guards outside the enclosure do not seem to hear any music slipping through. Speaking of heavily-armed personnel, brownish armor components of variable sizes virtually cover the humanoid bodies of these soldiers holding rifle-like weapons. So the only thing being exposed in each guard... is one mechanical eye per 'head'. Not to mention the hand-held firearms being very related to direct-energy usage for warfare — or the robotic nature of these security combatants. Anyway, there appear to be two doors leading their respective windowless rooms; and a third one for entry/exit between the three-chambered building and outdoors.

While we're at the notion of being outside, the cuboid structure's exterior surface has no windows as well and no sign of cracks within the grey color scheme. Might be a good thing: because its location is placed within a rather large oil refinery of big storage tanks, pipelines, and warehouses... now accompanied with military-looking vehicles and loitering troops (as revealed by the first sunlight of the morning). This occupation garrison includes unrecognizable 'soldiers' in the same brown armor; heavily-protected troopers with four electrolaser barrels mounted on both shoulders and arms; KDB-5Q Sickle mech-walkers with two automatic gun-turrets installed on top, two energy cannons firmly fixed forward, and reinforced front-armor on all four stilt-legs; GZ550 Light Armor quad-wheeled automobiles; BTR-110 Cossack IFVs; and a few Mi-70 Hyper/Giper attack helicopters hovering above by their coaxial rotors. A nosy hobbyist can point out that these military machines are not catalogued as parts of the Russian Federation's Armed Force.

Sure, that person would be very correct... Because these fighting vehicles were not manufactured on this universal reality.

They came all the way from a gigantic star-gate deep inside the blackness of the Pacific Ocean. Of course, the military equipment and weapons of 'Soviet-origin' were brought to the Russian landscape via the hundreds of all-terrain starships that emerged out of that underwater techno-dimensional doorway. Although it would also be strange for these 'invaders' bringing in mass-produced, upgraded artifacts of an alternate Earth to this parallel planet of humanity.

But enough background on this robotic invasion at the moment; since there are several more of those durable, foreign portables placed within the petroleum-based complex area for interrogations on Sandelan scouts. Some of those captives comply to answer questions, another group outright try to escape or fight their interrogators without success, and others just stay silent for the speculatores' own sense of national honor. Kinda think about it... where are they suppose to be interned afterwards?

Well... outside the official boundaries to the east of the seized refinery site, a trio of airborne transport ships retain their position miles above the planetary surface. Each of the vessels' interior space had already been converted to accommodate prison amenities for up to potentially four hundred Imperial soldiers (yeah... quite overcompensating, isn't it?).

The other surrounding directions don't appear to have any activity going on.

Until a pair of HP-48 Krododil assault choppers propelled themselves to existence from the northwest; whose geographic pathway behind their rear is particularly oriented to the city of Moscow — almost a couple hundred kilometers away. Once at the outskirt of this industrial area, the rotary aircraft vertically land on the asphalt pavement of an improvised helipad... and all their cabin side-doors open for their otherworldly passengers to disembark.

Including one captured Sandelan struggling with his head being bagged and both hands tied up. ": You barbarians will not get away with this transgression intact! I demand my release immediately, so that the emperor himse- :" A butt-stock of an advanced gun slammed onto the back of this prisoner's head; knocking him unconscious towards the ground.

"Sokhrani svoyu tyavkayushchuyu gordynyu dlya dal'neyshikh doprosov, pridurok."

"Eto mozhet byt' pravdoy tol'ko v tom sluchaye, yesli nash spornyy zaderzhannyy ne spit, tovarishch."

"T'fu ... bylo by logichneye, yesli by eti psevdo-rimlyane prekratili posylat' svoikh lyudey dlya glupykh popytok pokhishcheniya."

Inside a hotel room elsewhere...

A brown-haired, Caucasian man gradually wakes up from bed — whereas the full-lite/french doors were still being hidden by the long, obscuring curtains. As he stands up from the sleeping furniture, the man in conservative undergarments then walks toward a nearby table (where his camera, smartphone, and laptop were placed). He sits on a chair and turns on the portable computer. Once the desktop screen is fully established, the male human punctually selects his file folder designated "Ganges travels" and opens its content mainly of pictures. He instantly selects the slide-show button for seeing the captured images in full screen.

This presentation sequentially starts with a photograph of many mangroves growing on the shrinking boundaries of the Bengal Delta in Bangladesh. As more photos of this river mouth follow, the apparent photographer contemplates his memories upon seeing the worrying amount of land disappeared from sea-level rises due to climate change (which many people on Earth still wanted to deny human actions as being responsible, regrettably so). Also reminded by the following pictures were his interviews with the locals that had a very hard time thriving there; by translator guides likewise. Their concerns include the lack of diverse fishes in the polluted waters, persistent flooding of their wooden homes and farmlands that respectively derives them of their sleep and disrupt agricultural labor efforts, and their alleged sightings... of cloaked 'men' that frequently vanish into forest areas — in addition to a theoretical correlation between these unknown interlopers and the presumed carcasses of poachers being gruesomely posted as some warning signs. Up next in the slide show are the animals inhabiting these precarious wetlands: such as the elusive Bengal tigers, saltwater crocodiles, and even the rarely-seen Ganges river dolphins. Dozens of images afterwards, the presentation proceeds to display several photographs of the native floras within the Ganges Delta. Other than that, not a single person or animal were visibly seen in those images of greenery.

Until the man pauses one photo of vegetation that doesn't seem special. Upon a closer look however, there was a subtle silhouette in human-like shape under the notion of light-associated distortion among the photographed plants. Almost as if seeing a paranormal spirit... or some classified sorts of military experiments on optical camouflage. Keep in mind that the Caucasian male had reviewed this photograph and other similar to that several times in his previous spare breaks on the Indian subcontinent.

Anywho, he resumes continuing the slide show consisted with snapshots on the Sundarbans forest areas. Occasionally, the photographer delays the visual progression for glimpses on the selected frames containing any bending of visible light. Additionally on other times, he freezes pictures that captured the weird illustrations... of mysterious vehicles reeking military essence. Not like UFOs in fact, since those snapshots described more structural details up close than the mysterious 'flying saucers' of supposedly extraterrestrial origin at much higher altitudes.

The first prints of them could be best explained as new types of fighter jets having canards in the front and M-shaped wings for the rear half: which would be considered aerodynamically unstable without assistance from a certain kind of fly-by-wire technology. Underneath these tan-painted aircraft in some pictures were apparently a pair of gun-pods on both forward-stabilizers and two metal pods attached to the main flight limbs. The next set of photos unveils more airborne vehicles in similar colors showing VTOL-like capabilities: one 'twin-ducted fan' model has installed armaments associated with attack helicopters; the other larger craft (using presumably two tilt-jets) has an enlarged underbelly-fuselage more likely oriented for transporting troops or equipment — although several additional aircraft of identical designs apparently had such lower body part be exchanged for carrying tanks and other terrestrial-based automobiles. Then there's a photographic series of ground vehicles in the same paint-jobs... either propelling on or actually hovering over the water. Among them were levitating machines each armed with a turret of two twelve-tubed missile-racks; 'hover-craft' consisted only a big, strange cannon being fixed forward; anti-air vehicles using the same kind of anti-gravity propulsion and four cannon-esque weapons on their primary turrets for such combat roles; and amphibious transports that doesn't seem to have any gun on their rectangular hull. In consideration to the captured slides, all those military-style vehicles gave an expression of them traveling in haste when the photographer was gotten bypassed.

Plus, there were plenty more of such war-machines moving up to the Ganges River... Correction: a large armada of airborne ships of metal had accompanied these armed forces in the skies and on the ground. His documented images uncover aero-vessels that ranges from trapezoidal-rectangular frameworks assuming to be transport/cargo ships; to the enormous flying crafts that oddly combined the numerable gun batteries of bygone battleships and the elongated 'flight decks' of modern aircraft-carriers.

Suddenly — the male person's smartphone rang and his right hand grabs it from the table. His fingers answer the communication gadget via touchscreen for an open channel.

A female voice greets him, "It's been a while, Francis."

He huffs with a small smile, "Would've said the same thing, Ribecca. Got a good reason for this phone call?"

"Playing a woman's intrigue at random, Mr. Weston. Right now, I'm reviewing the footage captured by my cameraman's camcorder that our 'robot overlords' are conducting on both sides of the US-Mexico border as of this week."

"Uh-huh... so what did you and your crew saw?" His smile turns neutral.

"Well, I can start with those cybernetic trees that drilled and then rooted themselves into many oil wells and environmentally polluted areas across the southern and Baja California landscapes."

Francis raises an eyebrow, "Robotic trees, you say?"

"They're actually scrutinized by the scientists arriving several days after us as composite lifeforms blurring the line between organic and synthetic domains; in addition to their ability to efficiently absorb more of the gaseous carbon dioxide through photosynthesis than what our current carbon-capture technology and similar endeavors from us or Mother Nature are capable of doing if combined together. Although those botanical cyborgs presumably need assistance in nutritional requirements from those ground-anchored storage pillars for tree growth and performing such... cleanup services."

"Yeah... any public feedback upon this 'eco-alien' activity?" The male photojournalist asks while scrolling some photos of the aerial warships without hurry.

"Hmm... there could have been some applause on such environmental miracle." Her vocal expression then turns somber, "Even so, almost all the viewers were greatly horrified or fumed by how brutally defensive our robo-gardeners can be; when a large-scale cavalry charge of 'white-power' believers on weaponized trucks and cars committed themselves in attacking the Fortemrian presence near the Salton Sea. Andrews obviously filmed their failed assault while we're there with a few National Guardsmen inside that foreign installation, but it's still unsettling for any living soul to witness a one-sided slaughter upon a hostile mankind — without a single avenue of surrender or mercy being offered. Especially after seeing a militant woman belonging to the wrong cause getting lit up in flames by some kind of incendiary warhead from an unknown sniper shot to her back."

The male photographer solemnly notices as well, "Yeeesh, that'd be very hard for anybody in America to shrug off such inhumane sentence of death. Speaking of which, you're not thinking about exploring the nearby prisons under 'Terminators' control over there... is that wrong?"

"Aww... how nice of you to be worrisome on my well-being. Like it or not however, I'll start my first penitentiary investigation on one of Mexicali's few correctional facilities by tomorrow morning."

"Wait a minute Ribecca, you're on the other side of the border?"

"You got it, Francis. Furthermore info-wise, I booked a stay for the night inside Real Inn Mexicali. When morning comes, my crew-member and I will visit the Centro de Reinsercion Social facility that is observantly commandeered by those foreign synthetics."

"Right..." Weston wasn't exactly convinced, "Did you hired a translator guide in Mexico, by any chance?"

"Hah, guess I didn't fully let you in about my fluency in Spanish from the University of Nevada near Las Vegas. Which would at least impress my relatives in this capital city of Baja California for having such multilingual skill set."

"Oh... are any of them okay there?"

"Well... maybe I'll communicate my kinsfolk for their present status; whenever I'm done or taking breaks from politely probing the widespread patrols belonging to these intelligent combat droids. Not to mention their swarms of micro-drones inhabiting and eating through the scattered landfills of electronic waste."

"Really? Then perhaps you should all emphasize further cautions for yourselves; if those tiny machines end up developing a ravenous taste for human flesh than scrap metal."

"...I'd be more concerned with how extreme the dedications of such collective intelligence will manifest for their purpose of ecological stability. It's true that our human scientists were able to cautiously observe several colonies of the small insectoid bots up-close and personal, and yet we're not certain about such bizarre friendliness to be repeated upon people holding special 'grievances' toward these interloping weirdos."

"Such as the peculiar supremacists fuming at their buddies getting killed on live film?"

"Not just them, however. The proclaimed victims of our alien enforcers also include drug cartels, wildlife poachers, offending fishermen, 'desperate' farmers, money-grabbing businessmen, corrupt police officers, and even surviving parents of so-called school bullies that were viciously punished for displaying 'over-exploitative' and 'unethical' behaviors."

"...Did anyone live to tell their survival, Miss Chong?"

"...No, Francis. Not one soul from the alleged guilty parties caught in synthetic engagements of deliberate ambushes or sting-like raids has personally spoken to confirm or deny about them; apart from video, audio, and written files that supposedly recorded their fatal situations. Not even the children related to the said offenders were spared from their vigilante-like assaults. Which is why I have another reason to be here: covering the upcoming protests by Mexicali's city population in relation to external reports and testimonies regarding many towns along the Gulf of California... Where extra-dimensional, robotic forces had evidently conducted operations that our civilization should recognize as crimes against humanity. Or go further to a greater extent as outright acts of genocides!"

"In other words... An abnormal outbreak of terrorism across the Mexican boonies, correct?"

"Hmm... more like widespread 'eco-persecution' — with regards to the foreign droids' utter tenacity in halting and cleaning up the prevalent devastation caused by our entire species. I know they made a good point concerning our many shortfalls on acknowledging the fragility of Earth's biosphere, in addition to our necessity to speed up scientific progress for resolving those malevolent issues as responsible human beings. Still... the obviously high price produced by such draconian measures is... well, very hard to swallow."

"Yeah... most similar to the unfair pressure upon plenty of civilians on the entire Indian subcontinent, apparently."

"While we're at the topic of oversea journalism anyhow, what have you been doing at your end today?"

"Well, I just woke up this morning from my sleep inside an Indian hotel room and later reviewing the photographs of the Ganges Delta that I took."

"And they were presumably recorded before a few huge armadas from sea and air suddenly showed up on the coastal doorsteps of India, Bangladesh, and Pakistan as seen on international news. Is that right, Mr. Weston?"

"Ha, ha... you could be correct on the "alien invasion" part, when they immediately happened on the same day that I was freelancing for stories of environmental issues at the Sundarbans region. As a matter fact, I'm currently looking at my pictures of those unknown military vehicles coming upstream through the river mouth of the Ganges a couple weeks ago."

"Then effectively, you're keeping track on the growing presence of foreign robot combatants across the South-Asian subcontinent. How's that been going?"

"Not all at once, mind you. My journalistic focus at this moment is traveling upriver along the Ganga aqua-route. Thus, I'm taking accounts of their 'xeno-military' deployment in adjacent to this sacred yet contaminated waterway as I journey upwards."

"I see... anyway, what kinds of scoop did you documented over there?"

"Hmm, let see... I had captured images of unidentified 'cyborg trees' planting themselves onto sewage tunnels that unfortunately discharge rubbish into the Ganges; with those humanoid automatons guarding them of course."

"...Okay, that's like hearing again the same news I've seen from my location. How about anything you can see outside from your rented bedroom right now for a change, Francis?"

"Uh... one moment, please." Immediately (without haste though), he strolls for the sizable drapes and slides one of the curtains to reveal a sight of the exterior landscape through the glass-embedded doorway.

...Which is the barely-seen sandy beach on the other side of India's Hindi Ganga. Not normally empty however, as the American photojournalist can make out the visible silhouettes of what they appeared to be towering... mech-walkers. It's still fairly unbelievable for him to witness these bipedal war machines being positioned on multiple areas of Southern Asia, instead of just existing as speculative weapons of science fiction. Further incredible nevertheless was getting some descriptions of these robotic walkers from the human-size 'occupiers' of the trespassing forces, when Francis requested those tan-armored droids for details several days back. Thus in an odd way, the man can identify the numerable vehicles by name: "AW-T2P Titan" for the mechanized giants primarily armed with two particle-beam cannons amounted on both sides of their chassis, "Wolverine R-X type" for those moderately smaller mechas with Gatling-like machine guns for both their forearms, "ORCA-RX model" for the ducted-fan powered VTOL gunships that a squadron of them has just passed by Francis' eyesight in the air and over the water surface, "AHV-8 Sandstorm" for those levitating vehicles with missile-podded turrets, "Kodiak-class aerial-battlecruiser" for the floating warships at higher altitudes (alongside their bigger and longer variations called the Super-Kodiak 'Atmospheric Bombardment Vessels'), "Firehawk" for the soaring multi-role jets in the skies, "CC-6 Pitbull" for those 4-wheeled recon vehicles with attached mortar artillery systems, and so forth.

He wasn't completely sure to this day on whether to be excited or disturbed by these alien occurrences in his oversea travel of Southern Asia. Regardless, Weston gives some answers for the 'touristy' view. "Yeah... I'm afraid the traffic of Varanasi by aircraft and boat is expected to be pretty busy for a long time."

Back to the interrogation room in Russia...

The interrogating pair and their Sandelan captive have done listening to Sergei Vasilyevich Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18. Prior to this, they kept their ears open to some folk music that came out of the music player. Afterwards, the occupants heard three artistic works licensed to a few historic composers of this Eurasian country — which were Mikhail Ivanovich Glinka's Ruslan and Lyudmila Overture, a choral version of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's Year 1812 Solemn Overture, and the piano composition belong to Rachmaninoff (in that order). Once the masterpiece trio were themselves finished, the next song to be played is a 'patriotic' anthem associated with the communist predecessor of this vast land.

Now playing — State Anthem of the Soviet Union (1977)

"Soyuz nerushimy respublik svobodnykh

Splotila naveki velikaya Rus'!

Da zdravstvuyet sozdanny voley narodov

Yediny, moguchy Sovetsky Soyuz!"

While this bygone composition of the defunct USSR continues, the FSB officer stands firm with both hands behind his back... and solemnly closes his eyelids. The mysteriously cloaked interrogator remains upright as well, apart from putting 'his' arms together across the chest area. For our Imperial speculatore anyhow, he's fairly perplexed like the previous time and on what these 'artistic' sounds were about in 'Roh-shee-yan' tongue. Regardless, they all hear the soviet song quietly to the end of those vocals from the past — no matter how much had been empty promises and psychological illusions of a worker's paradise.

The obscured 'person' later laments, ":Heh... Quite a lovely hymn of Soviet propaganda, isn't it?:"

": ...Soh-vee-eht? :" The Sandelan prisoner wonders.

": Anything or anybody associated with the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, also known respectfully as either the USSR or Soviet Union.:"

": I see... so then, where is this Sohvee-eht Union? :"

": Well... unless your people can time travel to the past somehow, the Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik had been relegated to the history books. In fact, that 'socialist' federation can be considered a persistent ghost of the current Rossiyskaya Federatsiya.:"

": ...Uh... I clearly do not understand such relati- :"

Arkadiy roars, ": SILENCE, TRANSGRESSOR! :" That certainly got the Imperial scout's attention to shut up. ": Since we're on that particular subject, allow me to describe my former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics — without interrupting me! Is that clear to you? :" As intended, the human captive gives a couple nods. ": Good. Now then... Ahem... I shall began with the end of the Romanov Dynasty that had ruled Imperial Russia for three hundred and four years. The last Czar was not as great as several of his previous predecessors to the royal throne of old; especially in the mist of merciless war, famine, and industrial unfairness upon his own people. After so much suffering under the Russian Empire's inept governance at that tumultuous period, my ancestors imbued with the communist hopes and dreams for better livelihoods rose up and forced our emperor to abdicate his sovereignty over Russia. In the following years of civil war and foreign intervention, the victorious party of Lenin established the Soviet Union to provide social obligations for the vast majority of its hard-working people from former vassals of the Romanov rulers.

Two decades onward, we as Soviets had undergone major changes in agriculture, manufacturing, military power, art, and other societal aspects. Our civilization based on communism wanted to prove their economic system as an alternative to the capitalist nations with large gaps between the rich and poor, in addition to inequalities imposed by selfish people from those on minorities because of the ill-constructed notion of race. One rival kingdom in particular desired world domination for the miserable outcome of the same war that Imperial Russia had fought prior to the people's revolution against the Czar. This counterpart entrenched its humanity the beliefs of being so superior to other fellow humans that their fanatical armies would murder countless unarmed civilians not of their so-called master race without hesitation.

Eventually, the biased country of Nazi Germany declared war upon the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics with their terrible legions slaughtering our defenses and citizens in their wake. Yet we fought back with the same ferocity against our attacking foes; despite the heavy losses that the Red Army accrued itself as the loyal patriots slowed down the German monsters on home soil. By good fortunes notwithstanding, the Russian winters halted the ruthless advance of the Nazi forces — which provided enough time for the Soviet counterattacks to be prepared and then pulverized the attacking barbarians. From that day forward, the "Great Patriotic War" transitioned to multiple offensives upon the guilty nation for a few more years. Even with millions of lives taken away by our fascist adversaries, the armed forces of the USSR relentlessly pursued victory over Germany... until we finally conquered its capital city and acknowledged the surrender by our opponents.

By the conclusion of that global war, the USSR was considered a superpower to be respected by the entire world. Nevertheless, a confrontation appeared between the great Soviet Union and an equally powerful republic called the United States of America. Ironically, both were once allies against the Nazi evils on the European continent. Some period of time after total victory however... the two leaderships had major disagreements on whose economic systems were to dominate the rest of the world: Capitalism or Communism? Thus, a conflict involving diplomacy, ally states, spies, and technological progress permeated our whole planet for almost half a century. Before the loser's economy fell into disarray and its people protested the stagnation and failures to reform. That defeated participant... was my Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, unfortunately. Our leaders' focus on military development was so determined that they neglected to readjust their domestic policies for the needs of every Soviet citizen. Also, there were the actions from our last Premier that ended up dividing the once powerful USSR, instead of recovering its continental economy as intended. Then again... perhaps it was already too late to invigorate the socialist empire when prior leadership had squandered the time to seize such benevolent opportunities. After the Cold War ended anyway, several nations had gain sovereignty from the Soviet ashes.

One of them is this Russian Federation that continues to restore prestige comparable to the late superstate of Eurasia... yet remains the largest country on Earth, mind you. :" Soon, Kirilenko notices the raised hand from the cloaked questioner. "Chto eto?"

"Mogu li ya prodolzhat' igrat' muzykal'nuyu kollektsiyu ... ili ya dolzhen nachat' govorit' fakty o temnykh aspektakh Sovetskogo Soyuza?"

The bald Russian grumbles at this individuals' intentions, "...Vash pleylist dolzhen byt' gotov k polunochi, i ideya proverki faktov dolzhna podozhdat' do zavtra. Sdelka?"

"Hmph, konechno."

Accordingly, the cultural device resume the selected songs across international borders.

Now playing — Over The Rainbow

By Judy Garland

The Wizard of OZ (1939)

"...Ty chto, shutish', zhestyanoy chelovek?" The FSB officer bewilderingly reacts.

"Pochemu net? Mnogiye lyudi neveroyatno lyubyat eto muzykal'noye proshloye."

Nonetheless, all three listen to this song from the novel-based film.

"Somewhere over the rainbow,
Way up high
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow,
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream,
Really do come true...

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops,
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow,
Blue birds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow,
Why then, oh why can't I?

If happy little blue birds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?"

Once the music has ran through, the fingers from the face-obscured interrogator pause that music player from moving on to a different song. ": So... any question about that nice melody from an American actress? :"

Showing the mesmerized expression like the previous experiences of listening, the speculatore nodded and said, ": Um... who was this woman that seems to sing in the high tongue of nobles? :"

": Heh, glad you asked. Her name was Judy Garland, although she was born Frances Ethel Gumm on June 10th of the year 1922 in the town of Grand Rapids, Minnesota. Considering her mixed ancestry of English, Scottish, and Irish descent; her primary langu-... uh... :" Strangely enough, the enigmatic figure apparently looks at the imprisoned scout for an awkward amount of time. 'His' head then shifts attention to the rather annoyed, human Earthling and immediately returns to the puzzled Sandelan — followed by putting a hand on the 'chin' in a thinking posture. "High... tongue, you say?"

"Yes, my... lord..." Evidently, this scouting soldier is also surprised by what was immediately spoken. "Like how senators... and noble families speak."

Yeah... that recent dialogue in English really got the questioners' mental concentration.

The bald Russian blurts out, "Was that really a shitty prank or what, intruder?"

The ballad and lyrics of "Over the Rainbow" was credited respectively to composer Harold Arlen and lyricist Edgar Yipsel "Yip" Harburg.