45: Enemy of the State

This was something Rila Cassalis was not looking forward to. And yet, she knew she had to face it, that is, answer for her failure. That was what it was, a failure, a significant one at that which would only help the rebels in accelerating their insurrection. Failing to stop them at Vargania would spark a war that would tear the Union apart, and she felt that failure in every fibre of her being. It was something that would haunt her for as long as she lived, which she figured with some dry amusement would not be for much longer. The High Protector did not tolerate failure well; her one saving grace may be the fact that she had contingencies in place, especially as she had been the one to help Tarva Garall ascend to that lofty position.

She strode into the High Protector's conference room in the Annex confidently, adorned in full uniform. She was joined by her aide, Lieutenant Narsa Norrask, as well as three other soldiers in standard light armour and uniform. Her bodyguard escort, not necessarily something she would need here in the Annex. Nonetheless, given the circumstances she had decided to bring them along. None had questioned her bringing them inside with her, for her rank as Supreme Commander still meant something. News of her 'failure' at Vargania had not spread far, many on the home-world remained unaware that an all-out war had started on that colony. That would not last for much longer, of course, and no amount of media suppression would put a stop to word getting out.

She knew that the High Protector had toyed with the idea of a communications blackout with Vargania, but he had not gone ahead with it for the simple fact that it would raise far too many red flags. Only an hour ago, Tarva had ordered all outbound flights to Vargania grounded, and those inbound ones were to be thoroughly searched, the passengers properly vetted in case they happened to be saboteurs for the rebel cause. The same would have to be done with flights to and from Tornya, judging from what had happened over Vargania. The Tornyans had always been a troublesome bunch; now they had gone ahead and thrown in with the rebels. It was a bad situation, as Tornya alone was the most economically prosperous colony of them all with a military force of its own that was impressive, to say the least. This civil war would go on for much longer than the High Protector had anticipated, from the look of it all.

High Protector Tarva Garall, dressed in his usual stark black uniform complete with gleaming silver trimmings, was speaking to a pair of military officials when Cassalis was allowed entry into the ornately decorated conference room. The portrait of Visala looked down on them from one wall, the founder of their modern society offering them all a warm smile, although Cassalis had often thought when she looked upon that portrait that there was a hint of mischief in Visala's eyes. Cassalis was one of the few Calsharans who knew the woman's secret, a secret that would no doubt explain the perceived mischief.

"You're saying there is no way to end this soon, then?" Tarva asked those around him. One was a General, another being the 'Protector' of the home-world, essentially the head of the home-world's armed forces. Both had grave expressions upon their ageing features. In comparison, Tarva looked wide-eyed and irritated, likely a result of the latest problems to befall the Union he was supposed to be in charge of. With an ego such as the one Tarva had, it was clear as day that the notion of people actually rebelling against him infuriated him.

All three men looked up when Cassalis and her escort walked into the room. Tarva's eyes narrowed when he saw her.

"Commander Cassalis," Tarva said. "So glad you could join us. I see you brought friends?" He nodded to the four bodyguards she had with her. All four were armed, something that she had been able to do for the simple fact that her rank held plenty of pull around here. "It looks like you've come prepared for something."

"You summoned me, Protector?" Cassalis asked him, referring to him as simply 'Protector' for she knew that would annoy him. Tarva frowned, looking to her then to her companions, gauging them each carefully.

"I summoned you here because I want to give you a chance to explain yourself," Tarva said, and as he spoke he stepped from around the head of the conference table. He paused some metres from Cassalis, the armoured guards dotted about the room watching him and the visitors keenly, all of them ready to jump into action at a second's notice. There was no denying the tension that hung in the air between them, Cassalis fully expecting her nephew to make a move against her. He, in turn, expected her to make a move against him. By bringing her bodyguard escort in with her, she had essentially made the first move already.

"You were sent to Vargania to put an end to a rebellion," Tarva continued. "You were given ships and soldiers. You should have been able to put an end to the insurrection with ease. Instead, you retreated. You retreated from a winnable battle."

"We were outnumbered," Cassalis said. "Our losses were mounting. The Tornyan forces arrived unexpectedly and flanked our taskforce. I could have held the line, but it would have seen most of us destroyed in the process. So, I made the wiser choice and ordered a retreat." She spoke in a level voice, watching Tarva carefully as she did so. He appeared to listen closely, his eyes narrowed, his true feelings concealed for the time being. She did not much like this unreadable Tarva, especially as she was so used to seeing him with his emotions on full display, especially when behind closed doors. He had to keep a strong façade up as High Protector, especially when before the adoring crowds of citizens whom he so enjoyed making speeches to, if only to bask in their adulation of him.

"Even if we had taken the capital city, there was no guarantee that the insurrection would have ended there," she added. She knew it sounded like a weak argument, but it was a valid point to make. Tarva had assumed that the rebellion would have been centralised around Vargania's capital, given the colonial government's involvement in it. Cut off the head and the body would fall, or so he had figured. Cassalis, however, had expected a protracted ground war between rebel cells across the planet. Of course, that was before she had ordered the retreat. In so doing, she had left thousands of loyal Union soldiers stranded on the planet's surface.

"Supposition, Supreme Commander," Tarva countered. "Gaining control of the capital would have crippled the rebels and prevented other worlds from rallying to their cause so easily. Giving them this victory has only allowed the likes of the Tornyans and presumably others to join what they now see as a movement with a chance of winning. This civil war, because that is what it is now, will go on for many months at the very least. In case you forgot, Supreme Commander, but our military is engaged in wars across the frontier against the likes of the makalvari and the Jaffa. We cannot afford to go pulling out some of those forces to engage in a war within the Union itself. We would lose ground, and I will not see the gains we have made these past six months given up so easily."

Tarva wanted to make a mark on the galaxy, there was no doubt about that. He wanted to expand the Calsharan Systems Union beyond its known reaches, beyond any further borders it had ever had before. He wanted to rule the galaxy, as insane as that sounded; it was unfeasible, of course, if simply based on the sheer vastness of the galaxy itself. And yet, Cassalis was certain that Tarva intended to try and chase that goal for as long as he lived. Expanding the Union was something Cassalis had always wished to do; however, she knew her limitations. Tarva, on the other hand, seemed to believe he had no limitations whatsoever.

"I made the call to retreat," Cassalis stated, trying to keep her own annoyance from showing through. "I made the call because I believed it to be the most sensible order to make at the time. With additional forces, I may be able to put a stop to the Varganian rebels. However, with the Tornya colony involved, the fight is not likely to simply end with Vargania. To assume that winning the fight at Vargania would have stopped the other colonies from rebelling themselves is supposition, Protector. The same kind of 'supposition' you accuse me of doing."

Tarva visibly bristled when he heard this. Cassalis knew that he knew she was right, and that was why it aggravated him to such a degree. Tarva had allowed his position to inflate his ego, and in so doing he was now picking a fight with the person who had helped elevate him to that very position. Cassalis figured it was time the young male received a reminder of that.

"If you wish to push the point further, you should recall the assistance I have provided your cause in the past. In fact, you might even say that without my input, you would not be High Protector at all. Would that not be a reasonable statement to make?" She allowed the question to linger, hanging in the air between them. Tarva bristled again, shooting her a mean scowl, although it disappeared quickly given the small audience they had in the room, all of whom listened intently to the pair's exchange.

"Yes, how could I forget?" Tarva asked aloud. Cassalis figured he meant it as more of a rhetorical question, and as such she did not reply. She simply kept a careful eye on him, attempting to get a feel for what he might do next. "My dear aunt, the Supreme Commander. A title you gave yourself, as there hasn't been a 'Supreme Commander' for the Union in three hundred years."

"It seemed about the right time for there to be one."

"And in the Supreme Commander's first battle, you retreat. You retreat while fighting a bunch of backwater colonials." Tarva shook his head, giving a disappointed huff. "Not the best start, wouldn't you agree?"

"Why did you summon me here, Protector?" Cassalis felt that Tarva was dallying around the point a little too much, presumably as a means to entertain himself and to flex his authority for the benefit of his audience.

"Why? Because I want an explanation, that's why."

"I gave you one."

"It wasn't a very good one." Tarva looked at her in a manner reminiscent of a parent about to scold a misbehaving child. "And you have the nerve to threaten me, as well. I know full well that you assisted my ascension to High Protector, I do not need it held over me like a gun."

"Then you would do best to leave me to carry on with my work, Protector." Cassalis managed a smirk then, glad to have her nephew on the backfoot for a change. However, Tarva returned the gesture with a smirk of his own, and it was at that point that Cassalis realised that she had miscalculated.

"I know about your contingencies, aunt. I know you have dirt on me you would use if I got out of your control. I also know where you keep it, specifically the computers you have it hidden upon, scattered as they are across the planet. One in your home, one in your office, another in a military base north of the city; I know all about it because my people in the Union Political Directorate uncovered it all not too long ago. I suppose you had no idea that you were being investigated?" He kept his smile as he asked this question. Cassalis could not stop her eyes from widening somewhat.

"You helped get me to this position," Tarva said. "And I am grateful. However, I cannot continue to allow you to hold power over me. After all, I am the High Protector. You are a Supreme Commander, and at the end of the day, you answer to me."

"You little shit," Cassalis spat, all semblance of etiquette evaporating immediately. "I made you, and I can just as easily unmake you."

"No, you can't." Tarva shook his head. "The incriminating documents you had concerning me, all as part of your contingency, have been recovered and your copies erased. Perhaps you have some backups somewhere, it doesn't matter. In a day or two, you will be consigned to the dustbin of history."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I am placing you under arrest for treason, Supreme Commander. After all, attempting to gain one over the High Protector with apparent incriminating information is a form of betrayal, and betraying the High Protector is much the same as betraying the Union as a whole." He had been planning this for some time, Cassalis could determine this much. She had expected it, just as he had no doubt expected her to pull something similar against him. Of course, he was making the first move. And it was one she knew she had to counter immediately.

There were six armed guards about the room. All of them stood to attention now, their gold visors gleaming in the light. Plasma rifles were readied, specifically shining chrome models, a bit of ceremonial flair given their place within the highest office of the Union. The two officers standing by the table appeared unfazed. Being the loyalists they no doubt were, they did not question what was going on. They probably even approved of it.

"You're not taking me alive," Cassalis snapped. They would give her a show trial, and that would be after the expected torture and humiliation. Like they had so many others, the UPD would work her over and reduce her to a broken shell, even if it took months. And then, when she was broken, they would parade her before the people along with a long list of her supposed 'crimes' (most of which would be completely fabricated). Yet, she would confess to them all because she would be too broken to deny them any further. Sometime after, they would quietly execute her, likely with a simple gunshot, plasma or otherwise, in the back of the head.

Cassalis had no intention of meeting her demise in such a sorry fashion. With a small gesture of her left hand, her four-man escort pulled out their own weapons. Plasma pistols mainly, and they swept them over the High Protector and the guards nearby.

"You're not getting me that easily," she told Tarva. Despite the confident demeanour she displayed, her heart was racing within her chest. They were in the middle of the Annex, with soldiers on patrol all throughout. They might get out of this office, but how would they get out of this building? This city? Even off of this planet, as no place in the Union would be safe for her after this.

The guards on duty held their plasma rifles at the ready, training them upon Cassalis and her companions. They looked about ready to open fire. Tarva, however, raised a hand, signalling them to lower their guns. He eyed Cassalis with some amusement.

"If you want to make a problem out of it, go right ahead," he told her. "Just don't expect to get far, aunty. I'll have every law-abiding citizen on the lookout for you."

"I'll take my chances," she countered.

"Of course you will," Tarva replied. His eyes narrowed, the smile fading from his young face. He knew that she had powerful friends within the Union. She could enlist any one of them for assistance. Letting her leave would be a mistake, yet simply gunning her down would raise too many questions from the officials Tarva had to work with. For a decorated military leader to be shot down within the Annex itself? That would be far too unusual an occurrence to effectively cover-up.

"You've always taken risks," Tarva continued. "One day, my dear aunt, your luck will run out." He kept his gaze fixed upon hers, his expression a mix of intent and amusement.

Cassalis motioned for her escort to leave the room, and she followed them, keeping towards the middle of the group of four as they moved. The guards about the room and out in the corridor watched them closely but did not act against them. She tried to fit as much of the contempt she had for her troublesome nephew onto her face as she possibly could. Tarva simply smiled at her, assured in the knowledge that he would get his way, as he so often had. He had been raised in wealth and was used to getting what he wanted. Becoming High Protector had simply been another thing on his list of desires, and it was another he had attained. And now he was ousting the person who had helped him attain it.

Cassalis wanted to swear vengeance against her nephew for this upset, yet she knew her odds of getting it were slim. She wanted it, oh so badly. Even now, she toyed with the notion of simply gunning him down here and now. That would result in her getting shot to pieces by the guards in turn, yet it seemed like a small price to pay for getting back at Tarva. However, her self-preservation instinct won out instead, and so she continued on her way out of the conference room, accompanied by her loyal bodyguards as she marched on down the hall and hurried for the elevator. She had to get out of here, before Tarva sent word to the UPD and the military in turn that she was to be arrested. Chances are it was happening right now, and in a matter of minutes she would have the might of the home-world's authorities bearing down on her. Unlike most people, she stood a somewhat better chance as a fugitive. She had connections, people in roles of some influence who owed her favours. One did not become 'Supreme Commander' without making reliable connections, although most would be unwilling to stand openly against the High Protector. They might offer her some assistance on the down-low, but nothing that would help her get back at Tarva.

"What do we do now?" It was Lieutenant Norrask, her reliable aide, who asked this question once the group had bundled into the elevator. The doors slid shut, with the elevator starting down the tall Annex building towards ground level.

Cassalis looked to the young Lieutenant, frowned slightly and briefly considered the very question. One thing that sprang to mind, above all else, was her son. Her newborn son, barely a week old, currently in the care of her sister. A sister who happened to be Tarva's mother. Would her son become a target of her nephew's ire? It seemed unlikely, as not even Tarva would harm a baby. And his mother would certainly not allow him to. Would her son be better off in her sister's care, at least until this situation became less volatile? That was a painful thought, for she wanted nothing more than to have her son in her arms, to be there for him as he grew up.

"I have a few stops to make," she answered. "Lieutenant, you and the others should head for docking bay two-seven-A, over at the spaceport in Lavcrousis. It's one I own, but it's under a company name and not my own. The High Protector wouldn't know about it. Few people do." One of her 'contingencies', in case her status amongst the government became perilous. That was exactly what had just happened, so she supposed investing in a spaceport and cheap freighter in a poorer section of the city had been a wise decision.

"If the UPD is looking for us…" Norrask sounded afraid, his eyes darting about anxiously, his hands fidgeting. He was still inexperienced and had never actually seen a real fight. To be thrust into this situation, so suddenly as well, had left him rattled. Cassalis put a gentle hand to his shoulder, looking the young male in the eyes with a reassuring gaze.

"Relax, Lieutenant. Take a deep breath. Remember what I told you, about controlling your fear. Don't let it overcome you."

Norrask nodded his head, finding some relief in his commander's eyes. His youth and apparent naivete had been what had drawn Cassalis to him in the first place. Whether or not she held genuine feelings for him, she was not sure; for the time being, she found keeping him loyal and having him at her disposal was useful. She knew he liked her, perhaps more than she liked him. That was something she could use, and had indeed used in recent months, at least since they had first shared a bed.

She took her hand away from him, regarding the Lieutenant and the others with a newfound confidence.

"As I said, docking bay two-seven-A. I will meet you there in a few hours." For now, they would go to ground, lay low and wait out Tarva's increasingly precarious hold on power. With civil war brewing, it was only a matter of time before her nephew's reign ended. At least, Cassalis hoped for this much. Perhaps it was too slim a hope, but it was better than having no hope at all. Tarva Garall had made a dangerous enemy this day, for he had made the mistake of crossing a woman who had had nothing more than the betterment of their empire in mind. She had served the military since she had been old enough to enlist, and she had worked hard and climbed through the ranks. She had hoped that by placing Tarva as High Protector, she would have an avenue open to her from which to guide Union policy. Instead, her nephew had proven to be a greater wildcard than she had anticipated, having fallen into his new role with a relish she had not expected from him. And with that relish, a ruthlessness had come forth that even she found surprising. Tarva Garall had kept it all hidden for so long. It was as if a switch had flicked as soon as he had become High Protector, bringing forth with it the 'real' Tarva.

Before she could even consider leaving, she had one, even two, important stops to make.


Tarva retreated to the lounge that formed part of the High Protector's living space on the upper floors of the Annex complex. He had left the problem of his treacherous niece to his subordinates in charge of the UPD, as they were generally reliable sorts who should have no problem tracking down and capturing a woman with as much sheer 'presence' as Rila Cassalis.

The lounge was spacious, adorned with lavish décor, soft red-brown carpet and various priceless items and paintings. A set of sturdy glass doors opened onto a vast balcony that offered one a breathtaking view of the surrounding city, putting them higher than most of the surrounding skyscrapers. And at the push of a button, the entire living space was shut off from the outside world by thick, reinforced bulkheads and powerful energy shields that could stop even the most powerful bombs the Calsharan military had at its disposal. Of course, the top floor of a tall building was hardly the safest place to be in an attack; the shelter underneath the building was even larger and much better fortified.

Tarva was alone now, with a pair of guards standing outside in the corridor. In this space, however, he could do whatever he wanted without needing to put on the stern, no-nonsense image often required of a High Protector. He pulled off his uniform top, throwing it aside and leaving himself topless for the time being, the smooth scales on his muscular frame gleaming in the sunlight that blazed in through the windows along one side of the room. He settled down into a chair that was several feet before a large, wall-mounted screen. After recent events, he needed to relax a while, something that had become increasingly difficult to do ever since he had become leader of the Calsharan Systems Union. It was one pitfall of the job, a job he had always wanted. And now that he had it, he found it was not quite as enjoyable as he thought it would be.

He switched on the screen, putting it on one of the state broadcast channels. They were running a news piece about the battle at Vargania, in which the rebel forces were described in a variety of colourful terms: traitors, radicals, extremists, terrorists and so on. Just about every word with a negative connotation was being attached to the insurgents, and the battle itself was being described as a tactical marvel that had seen the rebelling Varganians confined to their planet, unable to leave and spread their treachery elsewhere. Of course, Tarva knew the actual truth. What was being broadcast, little more than propaganda, was there to paint a picture of what Tarva would have preferred to be the truth. Instead, they were faced with an imminent civil war that threatened to tear apart a Union of worlds that had stood for one-thousand years. And Tarva was going to be the one blamed for it.

These backwater colonials did not know any better. They had been allowed too much autonomy under the Articles of Foundation, and Tarva found the idea of them operating independently yet still answering to the central government a contradiction in itself. All that gave rise to was factionalism, where people were more loyal to their colony than to the Union as a whole. A problem that had festered for one-thousand years, blowing up now in a way Tarva and many others had thought it would. Of course, when Visala and her cohorts had drafted those Articles, they had needed to make concessions to get the major colonies on board. They were a 'Union' and not a 'Federation', nor were they one single 'state'. Unified, but not to the extent that Tarva believed was necessary.

As was the norm within the Annex, a portrait of Visala herself was hung upon a wall inside the lounge area. This one had the light-green skinned female in lavish purple robes, and she wore a smile that Tarva had often considered mischievous.

He pointed towards the portrait, situated upon the wall off to his far left.

"This is all your fault," he said aloud, not that anyone was there to hear it. Perhaps Visala's spirit was around in some form to do so, Tarva was still on the fence about such metaphysical topics.

His attention was diverted to the screen at the wall before him, as the broadcast had become interrupted. The picture wavered, became warped and distorted and then, with a quiet blip, cut out entirely. Nothing but a black screen was there now, accompanied by a low droning tone. Tarva frowned, and he put out a hand for the small remote that lay on a table by his sofa. He would have to tune the signal, it seemed, although before he could grab the controls, the droning noise ceased and the picture returned.

Instead of the expected talking heads in the state media, what Tarva saw was a flag. Specifically, the Varganian flag, a mix of blue and grey with the Creator's star emblem in the centre. Tarva frowned, a sinking feeling in his gut making itself known. Countless millions would be watching this same broadcast, and instead of the remote, Tarva instead activated the communicator he still had on at his left wrist. He spoke to one of his aides, who was working in an office a floor below. He asked that aide if he could see the same broadcast. The aide replied that yes, he could.

"Tell the people at the satellite control centre to block it, right now!" Tarva's anger flared suddenly. He could picture his aide flinching where he sat on the other end of the line, before he acknowledged the instructions. Somehow, Tarva got the feeling that they would not be able to block the broadcast, not until it had run its course anyhow. Whoever was responsible knew what they were doing and had access to the equipment necessary to do it. Hijacking the airwaves like this was far from easy.

Suddenly, the flag disappeared and a face filled the screen. It was a young face, that of a male with deep green, near black skin and yellow eyes. He was seated at a desk somewhere, the windows behind him curtained over. It was daylight, wherever he was. Tarva had a good feeling that this Calsharan was on Vargania somewhere, made all the more apparent by the uniform he wore: it was that of an officer in the Varganian Planetary Defence Force, bearing the rank of Captain. Suddenly, Tarva realised he knew the face from somewhere. He had seen this male before, and a name dredged itself up from the back of his mind: Kavellan. Toron Kavellan, son of the late Cordan Kavellan.

"People of the Union," he began, his expression firm, yet it carried a certain remorse to it. What he had to say pained him, to some degree. Even his voice carried that weight, and he spoke clearly, choosing his words carefully: "My name is Toron Kavellan. I was an officer in the navy of the Calsharan Systems Union. I come to you now not as an officer of that Union, but as a leader in the war against tyranny."

Millions were watching this. Many of them might very well sympathise, even support what was essentially a rebel leader making a broadcast. Tarva had to shut this down, yet there was nothing he could do from here. There was no one place he could go to stop it, no single person he could order to block the transmission. The trouble with having a centralised broadcast network was that once someone hacked into that 'centre', then the whole Union was at the mercy of whatever the hijackers intended to play to the masses. It was supposed to have been secure, perhaps the most secure system of its kind in the galaxy. However, those in the government of colonies such as Vargania would have had the means to co-opt it if they so desired.

"Ever since I was old enough, I served the Union. I fought for the Calsharan people, I put my life on the line to protect the Calsharan people. I swore an oath to serve and uphold the principles of this great Union. I swore loyalty to the High Protector, an office formulated by the great Visala herself to be the final say on matters of state. I am the son of a loyal officer and a loving mother, both of whom I have lost in the most recent conflict to affect our society. That conflict is one of tyranny and overzealous rule, brought on by a High Protector who ascended to that position through scheming, betrayal and outright murder. A High Protector who is, by all means, illegitimate, supported by power-hungry military officials and who has intimidated much of the rest of the military leadership to support him. That is a High Protector whom I cannot serve, regardless of any oath. And that is why I speak to you all today, not as an officer but as a Calsharan. As a son and a brother, as someone who, as a matter of principle, must turn away from the office I swore loyalty to."

Tarva could do little now but watch and wait. His people were working on stopping it, but they would likely not do so in time. The damage was being done already, and as for how many people supported what was no doubt a call to rebellion, that remained to be seen.

"I do not do so lightly. I love the Union, I love the home-world and all its colonies. And it is because of that love that I must do this, for to save that Union I must turn against it. Unless the High Protector resigns peacefully, then there can be no other course of action. I ask you all, what has High Protector Garall granted us since he attained his position? He has not elevated the quality of life for anyone, save for his own personal and wealthy friends. Instead, he has plunged us into a bloody war of expansion, a war driven by his own ambition and hunger for power. A war that he no doubt intends to use in an effort to make himself into some kind of galactic ruler. Many of our people have died in this war; already roughly three-hundred thousand Calsharan sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, have been killed in this war. How many more must die, all in the name of the High Protector's ambition? How many more of our loved ones must be sent to some far away world to fight in a conflict that would otherwise have never occurred, if it were not for the decisions made by our new High Protector?

"And not only the war, but the internal purges. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, have been arrested, imprisoned and even executed for supposed crimes against the Union. My own father was accused of treason and executed, but not after he had been thoroughly tortured and reduced to a shell of his former self. Now we have the High Protector's 'Union Political Directorate' attempting to intrude into every aspect of our lives. Visala herself warned us of such oppression in her writings, writings that have evidently been ignored by the majority. The UPD is little more than the political arm of the High Protector himself, a secret police intended to sow fear and confusion amongst the citizenry, to ensure that no organized resistance can be formed against his rule. Hence why I find myself in the unenviable position of being at the forefront of not a mere 'resistance', but a secession: Vargania, from this point onwards, will no longer be part of the Calsharan Systems Union."

Toron spoke these words gravely, the look on his face speaking volumes. He had not wanted it to come to this, and with every statement he had made so far the regret became more apparent. Tarva found himself oddly captivated by the speech, even if it angered him, continuing to do so as it went on. Why in the name of the Creator had they not stopped the broadcast? Surely, they had been able to isolate the signal by now?

"The colony of Tornya will be making its own secession known shortly after this broadcast ends," Toron continued. "Consider Vargania's own secession official. And know, as I have said, that we do not do this because we hate the Union. We do it because of our love for it, and I hope those of you watching understand. We will no longer remain beholden to the whims of an infantile and power-mad High Protector. He has already sent soldiers to stop us, and many thousands died in the battle. However, we remain and our resolve is intact. For those of you on the home-world and those colonies who remain in the Union, I do not expect you all to agree with what we are doing. I do expect many of you to hate us for it, and that is fine, but please understand why we do it. And for those of you who wish to support our cause, wherever you may be, then by all means come and join us. The fight against tyranny will be long and bloody, but I believe with all my heart that the forces of freedom will prevail in the end. And I know that Visala herself would approve of our actions." He paused, once again allowing his words to sink in. The picture became a little fuzzy, lines appearing through it as the intrusive signal was gradually blocked. However, it was too late, and Tarva remained fuming where he sat, wishing to whatever higher power existed in the universe to allow him the opportunity to flay that bastard Toron alive.

"May the Creator light your way," Toron added, right before the signal cut out and the picture disappeared entirely. What remained was a black screen, complete with a low, continuous tone. This went on for several seconds, before the originally scheduled news broadcast came back on. Even the presenter on screen appeared a little flustered, and he made a somewhat feeble apology for the intrusion made by Toron's broadcast.

Tarva did not know what to do. Sure, they would do their counter-broadcasts, anything to try and discredit and overall reduce the impact of what Toron had said. Still, the damage was done and people would have recorded that very broadcast, whether by choice or mere accident. It would be passed around by the sympathisers, of which there were likely to be many. Outlawing it would likely only backfire, as people had a habit of actively seeking out things that were banned. All he could do, and Tarva hated the thought of it, was simply allow it to remain in circulation. Discredit it, certainly, and dig up whatever compromising information they could on Toron; beyond that, however, there was little more that could be done. Tarva had been in the political game long enough to know his options were limited. Ignoring it was one option that came to mind, yet even that was likely to be perceived as weak by the citizens.

The UPD would have to nip this problem in the bud. Damn Cassalis and her failure, for if she had stopped the Varganians then none of this would be happening. They would have control here, not some rebels or some uppity Lieutenant who believed that God was on his side.

He needed to speak to his officials right away. His plans for this evening had been effectively scuppered, which only soured his mood further. Activating his communicator, he spoke into it quickly, snapping off a few orders: for one, he needed his officials, the Protectors and the Generals and so forth, here in the Annex in the next few hours. He also needed dinner prepared, as he was starving. And then finally, he wanted whoever had been in charge of broadcasting when the intrusion had occurred executed, as that level of incompetence could not be allowed to stand.