Multimage Chronicles 2: Birth Of An Empire

by CSS Stravag

MMC Set 2. The end of the Planetary Revolution ushered in an era of peace, but 400 years after the fact the powers that tried to manipulate and control the world have resumed their machinations. Sparks of misunderstanding are about to light the inferno of global war once more, and no party will remain untouched in the coming conflagration. Rated T: V, L, SC.

1. Nations

(Multimage Chronicles, Set 2: Birth of an Empire)

And now for the beginning of the true aspirations of Empires.

The first section of the Multimage Chronicles created the basis and the divisions of coming conflict. As in most of the things I write, there is more than one level of conflict play, and these levels tend to interact and proceed separately. It's all a factor of when in the given conflict you look at. As in all things in existence, conflict is a constant: the times of peace that we know are briefer pauses, not the true nature of being throughout the universe. Given enough time, conflict will always reassert itself.

In much the same fashion as the above rule, so runs the story. For the Mages, little more than 400 years shall have passed from the end of the prior story to the beginning of this one. As always, you'll want to pay attention to the datelines and location lines, as time and place are always critical factors when observing and understanding conflict. There will be much shift in dates, but more so there will be a lot of shifting in terms of time, and the story will bounce back and forth from location to location as the nature of the conflict changes. In absolute terms, the whole timeline of the first conflict in this section will be spanned across five years. For an empire that will span easily over 15,000 years, a mere five may sound like a trifle until you consider that this is where the beginning of the Empire is hardened and built upon.

The greatest exploration of concepts, of purposes, is not simply in the forging of an Empire. In the annals of history, empires are formed, empires flourish, and empires are eliminated. In academic terms, the concept is called the Dynastic Cycle. On the other hand, the true legacy of any Empire is more a question of what did they accomplish rather than did they exist. It is that accomplishment, the goals and the aspirations of the Empire, that I intend to explore even more than just the simple founding of the Empire. For, at the end of the day, the conflicts in the future will be driven by what steps are taken today. And trust me on this if nothing else, there will be plenty of conflict.

On a different note, this story presented me a little bit of a challenge. I had initially thought about doing this as a split story, the first section being the initial forging of the Empire, the second section being a major conflict that would cement the future of the Empire, but after reconsidering the flow of the story, I have more than enough to do these as the mainline story and two side-stories of somewhat smaller length. So, be prepared for a rough ride here and be on the lookout for two (minimum) side stories in the future detailing some major events.

And now, onto the obligatory warning section.

GENERAL DECLARATIONS (These apply to all sections, and other declarations may be added in the chapters)

Note that Stravag does not own any part of any included works, in whole or in part. By my use of the included works, I intend no challenge to the copyright or the legal ownership of such works. I claim ownership only of the original elements, characters, and premises of this story.

Writing note: numbers in parentheses, like this: (0) mean check the footnote for something else I think goes along with the thought. Could be informative, could be humorous, or both. This will be my preferred method of including explanation or detail information that would otherwise disrupt the flow of a story, providing the backdrop that is deserved of the disparate elements without breaking into the narrative with an author filibuster.

Writing Note II: Continuing in this work, I am now including a new informational section below the Footnotes, called Included Elements. This provides a reference for readers to material that I have included in the story that may not be readily evident where I derived the logic from. It can also be considered a reference point for any readers who want to do some further research of their own, should they have time and resources available.

BAAAAAD LANGUAGE WARNING: Much as in real life, there will be foul language in some sections. Even the best of us let fly a four-letter word when really pissed off, startled, or else. Though it will be seen, it shall not be grossly common.

VIOLENCE WARNING: It is fairly safe to say, regardless of this being a massive crossover, or as a direct cause thereto, there shall be an amazing amount of violence. Get used to the thought. Expect strange conclusions to some fights, and expectable conclusions to others.

DICE WARNING: To simulate the randomness of life, elements of this story, all derivatives, all side-stories, and all continuations thereof shall be subject to the use of random number generation to determine the course of events. This will lead to otherwise illogical or against-pattern outcomes to some elements in the story, though this is expected by the author and will not be glossed over. Real life itself is random, and that is how this story shall flow, for the most part.

RELATIONSHIP WARNING: I may normally be fairly light on this subject in my writing, since more of my focus is on the political and military dimensions of the conflict at hand, but in this case there is some political dimension and some military dimension in addition to normal interactions. Expect to see some canon pairings, some non-canon pairings, and some very, very strange pairings. Fate does weird things to those it favors.

ANTI-POLITICAL-CORRECTNESS WARNING: To strive to be politically correct serves no purpose, for real life makes no such distinction. I will not do so. Death before dishonor. End of story. (note that this also applies to normal fandom principle: if I have to choose between reality and preferred perception, I will choose reality).

And NEG, THERE IS NO CHARACTER BASHING IN THIS STORY! PERIOD! Every character is entitled to some props even if their only purpose in the story is the classic image of deus ex machina. You will see this rule in full effect mostly in later Sets of the story, though it may come into play in some part here in the first one.

And thus the unreality shall continue into the next Set of the Multimage Chronicles:

---

(Multimage Chronicles, Set 2: Birth of an Empire)
(Chapter 01: Nations)

(1 August M.E. 428, 2130 Hours Lima (UTC+8))
(Emperor's Quarters, Government Building, Yuhua, China, Multimage Empire)
(Government Complex Coords: 28° 8'19.90"N, 113° 1'56.40"E)
(429 year after the Multimage Revolution)

True to his word, the ancient Multimage had not yet died or given up his post at the head of an empire that replaced first the Imperial Japanese, then the incredibly short-lived Southeast Asian Democratic Republic. That unwillingness to die was not making any friends in the upper echelons of the other nation-states on planet, but such was expected by the Emperor.

Of course, the sheer effort of commanding an Empire formed of disparate national populations was taxing to the patience of any being, mortal, transcendent or divine. What one certain group wanted, another would rebel against. What a certain region would believe would be fair, another region would consider an affront to their honor. The ancient Multimage quickly learned that the only constant in this manner of position is that conflict comes and goes, and with it so do rivalries. Of course, being beset on a single planet by multiple rivals that were not particularly interested in his survival or stability did not make matters easier, despite the agreement made 400+ years ago about not interfering in each other's states.

The Emperor scrubbed at his face, then sighed as he sat down at his desk. His direct apprentice broke the silence: "I know what you are thinking, Master. If not for that damnable promise you made to the conspiracy, we could have solved this problem long ago."

"What that this problem was so easily solved, we would certainly have buried this problem many centuries ago. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to make such an arrangement, lest our fledgling empire be torpedoed within a decade."

Anita Rockholm sighed mightily. "No, rather than settling it all in one shot, we spread their bullshit out over the course of four centuries. 400 years of low-level terrorism, but at least we have the best nation to show for it." Anita, sometimes referred to as the 'Cobalt Apprentice', took a moment to flip her hair, which was fast becoming a nervous habit of hers. In a military command position she was perfectly fine, but the matters of politics flustered her to a severe degree. Not for the individual matters or knowing what had to be done, but for the sheer scale of it and the complex interactions of nation versus nation versus nation.

"And soon enough will have more than just a simple nation on a simple planet to show for it," Emperor Eric Atrebas answered her with a smile. "Are the preparations for Project Four ready?"

"We have teams assembling right now, the location has been scouted and is confirmed usable. The report should be on your desk."

"I read it earlier in the day," Emperor Atrebas answered. "It is not as resource-rich as this planet is, but it is workable. More to the point, it has plenty of territory for farming, which is what we need to expand our expansion. It is all well and good to live on another planet, it is another thing entirely to live on another planet in a sustainable fashion."

"That reminds me, we have another official letter of protest from the environmental impact research group, they're claiming once again that our magic skills are contaminating the land." Anita waved an envelope in the general direction of the Emperor. "Every month, they keep coming up with this crap or some variation. What are we going to do about it?"

"Spellcraft does not create contamination in the fashion they claim," Atrebas answered. "I suspect that this area may be contaminated with something else. We may need to do an investigation to see if a nearby industrial concern is using the contaminated site as a dumping ground."

"Don't tell me they sent you one as well, rather than just their traditional letter to the government attorney general." Atrebas held up a small envelope for Anita to see, which caused her to groan. "They really should not be doing that, it's not your job to look after every little chemical spill."

"When they are convinced that spellcraft is deviltry and causes contamination to an environment, they will naturally accuse the most prolific practitioner of being the greatest sinner on earth. Of course, we have an environmental department that can verify it's not any kind of black sorcery that is causing this contamination. If I remember correctly there is a chemical re-manufacturer in the area, that may be the source of the leak." The Emperor stretched and flexed his back, trying to settle his left shoulder. An injury two months ago had resulted in a dislocated left shoulder which still bothered him from time to time. "It may be a nefarious contamination, or it may just be a simple leak from the facility. Either way, until somebody has eyes on confirmation that wizardry causes contamination, I'm not believing it. My home world had a lot more magic and spellcraft, no manner of contamination in the fashion they claim."

"I think that is that, I don't think anything else major has come across the desks for today." Anita took her last gulp of water and tossed the bottle in the recycle can next to the Emperor's desk. "What do you plan for tomorrow, sir?"

"A morning of paperwork, in the afternoon we have a review of forces up on the Mongolian border."

"On the Soviet side?" Anita asked, referring to the Greater Khingan Military District. That area was not under her administrative command, General Maximilian Rudelt commanded those forces.

"No, on the Kazakhstan side. All is well with the Soviets, even the European theater has settled down since their last dustup." Atrebas scrubbed his face again, trying to stay awake. It may have been technically early in the evening, but for someone that had been awake since 0400, it was rather late. Even a Transcendent wizard was not immune to fatigue. "I still get the feeling, if the world is going to be engulfed in flames once more, I expect it to begin either with us or the Soviets."

"Well, sir, that is tomorrow at the earliest. I'm going to call it a night, so I bid you good evening." Anita took to her feet, came to attention, turned and was out the door shortly thereafter.

Atrebas would follow suit shortly thereafter, he would be in bed and asleep before 10 PM. He would not find out until much later that Anita was quite right about tomorrow being the beginning of destructive things to come.

-x-x-x-

(2 August M.E. 428, 0630 Hours Lima (UTC+8))
(Officer's Quarters, Amur Wizardry Academy, Northern bank of Amur River, Soviet Union)

As with all buildings and projects of government nature, the inevitable expectation was that it would expand.

Thankfully for the witches, wizards, and warriors of the Soviet Union, the bureaucrats in the Army administration were smart enough to understand that as the Southeast Asian Military Academy across the river expanded, so too would have to expand the Greater Russian Amur Military Academy. More to the point, certain persons above the command level of the Academy intended that it would be a step ahead of the Multimages. As these things happen though, there truly was no person on the planet that could stay a full step ahead of the original master of wizardry, the Divine Mage, but keeping par in other subjects was not impossible.

It was a friendly relationship, not a direct or violent competition. Nothing showed that friendship more so than the bridge over the Amur River, or the annual swimsuit competition in the opening week of August. If one dared call various states of undress a "simple swimsuit" competition.

"They certainly have a sense of humor," the base commander said heartily as the various lounge chairs and sunbathing umbrellas came out for the morning.

"Nowhere near as good-looking as a good Russian lady, but occasionally I do like dining Asian." From one of the few ladies in the control room of the Soviet base, it was a rather eyebrow-raising declaration on her part

"Well, this year we don't have a training exercise scheduled on their side of the river for the national holiday, so we don't get to visit during sunbathing hours." General-Colonel Pushkin had a bare hint of disappointment to voice, but maintained decorum for the largest part. He was married, two children, but even he would readily admit that he never stopped looking. Even if just as a security precaution. (Specifically what matter of 'security' watching sunbathers would constitute was left up for interpretation for anybody that heard such a declaration.)

"Do you think it'll come down to us versus them? Or will it be us and them versus somebody else?" One of the radar operators asked a communication officer sitting next to her.

"No, my great-great-great-great-grandfather was one of the first Soviet Armored Infantry. I remember reading what he wrote about those bad old days, the Old Mage is not worried about us Soviets. He is worried about far larger problems than just one little country on one whole planet. If anything happens, he is likely to side with us." The communication officer that answered was fairly old for this position, thirty-six, and had tried to enlist as an armored infantryman as had his ancestors been, but he did not make that cut. On the other hand, his skills with electronics were top-notch, and that made him invaluable in the command building.

"So you're saying this will all blow over?" The radar operator misinterpreted him.

"I don't think so. The world has been going to hell for a few years, maybe a few decades, we're getting to the point where the whole world is about ready to detonate, and every country has a different set of reasons. If you put us all on a list, the best of us would probably be we Soviets or the Multimages. As to which is doing better, it's all about opinion. I think we're doing better, as we have the better looking ladies, but no man on this planet can deny that the Divine Mage is about the best of the best wizards on the planet. And that is frightening, knowing that he resides across the river."

"Take heart, Sergeant. If there is any one man I would want watching my back, it would be the Divine Mage." The voice in question was that of an outsider, a person that was frequently at the base but never stationed here, for he always moved around from command to command amongst the six academies that the Soviet Union had built for Armored Infantry and Armored Mages. Still, every person in the room knew that voice, and with it every person was on their feet and saluted crisply.

"Marshall Pevlekov, welcome back to the base that started it all," the base Commandant said.

"As you were," the Marshall released everybody from attention. "As always, I like to have a drink or two with my old cell comrades whenever we celebrate the end of the revolution. I'll be in town for a few days, also have some business conduct with the commandant of the Multimage base, and if the Emperor shows up, need to discuss a few things with him before the diplomatic meeting in a couple weeks. How are security arrangements this year?"

"Security is doing better than by the book this year, the past couple times we have had trouble with the press sneaking in has taught us a few lessons. If you have high-level talks, I want to make sure that they are secured. No sense in diplomatic secrets getting out into the press, that has caused enough trouble." The Commandant did not sound as assured of this position as Marshall Pevlekov wanted to hear, but when dealing with the press one very quickly found that you are on the defensive at all times, and no matter how well you plan some press wanker would always find a better way to circumvent your security. If not for the deadly seriousness of the matter, it almost seemed a game to the Marshall of special forces.

"Do what you can, Commandant. The coming global conflict demands us to be prepared, and our foes not knowing properly what is about to happen to them." Pevlekov struck a match against a strike strip someone had glued to the top edge of the console in front of him in decades past. It was a testament to the strip that it still worked when the Marshall ran a match across it, and used the flame to light a cigar.

"How bad will it be, sir?" the radar operator asked, a Corporal by her rank insignia.

"I do not know who will survive, if any of us, but I think this area is reasonably safe. Nobody in their right mind would consider a conventional assault against the two largest Armored Mage bases on planet," Pevlekov pointed out. "The rest of the world is on the table, though, and before we can define the scenarios, we need to know who the players are and what the ante is."

Already, the intelligence services of the various nation-states were working on that question. The answer they would come up with would be equal in horror to its inescapability.

-x-x-x-

(2 August M.E. 428, 0630 Hours Lima (UTC-6))
(Downtown Burnsville, suburbs of Minneapolis, Minnesota, North American Union)
(Coords: 44°46'29.49"N, 93°19'9.64"W)

The protest started innocently enough, as they always did.

It began as many such protests did in the North American Union, an outstanding complaint about excessive use of force by the agents of the state. Another misguided teen, another apparent shootout with law enforcement, this time that resulted in one law enforcement fatality and three fatalities in the perpetrator's ranks. The funeral for the police officer was set for a week hence, but today, a day after the shooting, the protest was already building.

More than just another slain teen, the protest was about the overarching use of excessive force by the agents of the state. The protest also included groups that were protesting the uneven distribution of food and other resources, something that was plentiful in certain nations around the world, but was strangely lacking in North America. An area which, under the United States and later under Nazi Germany, had been the single largest producer of food and textile on the planet. Nowadays, a person was lucky to have two full sets of clothes, and even luckier to have two full meals a day.

For certain, the press lamented the problem as an economic downturn, and certain people in the government circles swore that the misfortunes of the civilians were the result of disruptive practices by "other nations" or "subversives and wreckers" or some similar bogeyman that could not be easily defined, tracked down or eliminated. It was always somebody else's fault, never the responsibility of the central government groups. And the press was all too willing to perpetuate such falsehoods, especially since their own internal polling was given to look like such blatant lies were actually working.

Unbeknownst to the people pulling the strings at the top, they were very quickly creating the scenario under which their own lands were preparing to throw off their shackles.

And, as in all such scenarios, it would only take one instance of bad optics to make a bad situation truly impossible to stop.

Melanie Forster had been one of the first to join the protests, just herself, her sign, and her attitude. Naturally, word of the protest quickly reached up into the police ranks, and with it a response of riot police.

By the time morning rush-hour was beginning, the protest was already three hours old. She had waved her sign like usual, joined in the chants like usual, but something was different about this protest, everyone was on edge and nobody could really define why.

"Where are you from, Missy?" A tall guy dressed all in black asked of Melanie.

"I'm local, live a couple miles northeast of here. What about you?"

"From Sioux City, myself, just felt like coming down and adding my voice. This shit happens all too often," he said. "I know they ain't as bad as the old Nazis, but sometimes it looks like they're trying to be."

"I know, but be careful who you say that to, last couple protests in this area they have had informants in. You say something like that to the wrong person, your ass will be in jail. Or shot. These Gestapo-wannabes don't take kindly to being called out." Melanie took a moment to brush a lock of hair back nervously, both eyes still fixed on the nearest of the riot officers. Nothing about their demeanor today was relaxed, and some of them had expressions on their faces as if they were looking for a fight.

"After a while, you just have to stop giving a fuck." The tall guy patted her on the shoulder and kept walking. He was wearing the kind of gloves that one commonly saw on police special response units and military, the hardened gloves designed for taking abuse in combat, but he wasn't wearing any other kind of armor and did not appear to have any weapons. "Good luck," he said before he moved onward and into the crowd at large.

Melanie considered that she might be a bit far forward for her tastes, and moved toward the rear of the crowd, south and away from the strip mall this protest had begun around. A couple of the more frequent protestors greeted her, as theirs was a fairly friendly community in and of itself, but so far the fervor of the crowd was subdued by the overarching wariness of it. She found out why when she approached the southern periphery of the protest, another group of riot police had formed up north of the baseball field on Vincent Avenue (south) to contain them. Wisely she changed course again, this time headed westbound between strip mall buildings to avoid being trapped or remaining exposed.

Where it started, Melanie did not know immediately. She would find out from news articles in weeks to come, but all she remembered hearing immediately was a commotion from the general area she had been in, some kind of muted 'pop' sound and screaming, then the gunfire from the riot officers. The early-twenties history major student bolted westbound and away from the southern group of law enforcement, and here her choice of track and field sports became her saving grace. By being the fastest runner, she outpaced the rest of the protest crowd easily and became lost in the noise of the day.

Across Zenith Avenue, the sounds of gunfire and screams haunted her and drove her onward at full-tilt sprint until she came to the security fence around a LP gas distributor's facility where she went south and across another parking lot for an office building. At the west end of the office building, she blew past a gaggle of smokers and turned south again, this time at a dead run for the bicycle bridge across the little lake. Crossing the bridge was a matter of seconds for a track runner, and once she hit the end of the bridge she kept running at a dead sprint until she was past the bike trail.

Once across the trail, she took a moment to stop and breathe, settle her nerves a bit and consider next steps. "Can't go home, if they use face recognition on any video they'll catch me," she grumped. "Have to get mobile," she considered. This was something every protester had to think about in the here and now, the only 'safe' nations for protesting were the Multimage Empire and the Soviet Union, and sometimes over in Europe (if the latter government wasn't too miffed by the protest).

The best bet for getting mobile and staying mobile was buses, she knew, and eventually the interstate bus company known as Greyhound would be the best bet for staying mobile. Supposedly the surveillance state wasn't allowed to be wired into everything real-time, but nobody believed that restriction was real, despite the legal binding of it. If she could get a state or two of distance under her belt, she figured she would have better than 50-50 odds of escape.

The next step was getting to a bus stop. Southbound, the nearest bus stops were down Judicial Road to West Burnsville, at the strip malls down there adjacent to Sunset Pond Park, but that was over 2.5 kilometers running distance straight-line, closer to 3 kilometers following roads. Northbound was a no-go, despite being the closest stops, the police would know to key in on runners in that area. Eastbound was obviously a bad idea if the riot police were going to hose a crowd, so westbound was the only option.

Where she stood gave her the best option. At the western head of the bike bridge, she was standing in the right-of-way of large high-voltage power line frames, meaning there was not much in the way of trees or field cover in a straight line headed slightly south of west. So, she checked the tightness of her running shoes and made a break for it, with her eyes set on the bus stop at the corner of Lynn Avenue and 128th Street, nearby Hollywood Park. It was part of the bus route she took routinely to get to the park for off-hours sprint training and the occasional game of basketball with her college classmates.

Melanie would make it onto the bus at Lynn and 128, and with it she would disappear into a transportation network that would conceal her movements for days. She had enough cash on hand to go quite a distance, she just needed to figure out where to go next.

-x-x-x-

(2 August M.E. 428, 2045 Hours Lima (UTC+8))
(Chonghe, southern China, Multimage Empire)
(Coords: 22°38'29.91"N, 107°52'30.57"E)

Qin Reiko snorted loudly at the comment from her best friend, Yang Avril. "Yeah, that will work well for him. Transparent ploy to grab some chest. No wonder both Kellie and Chirico were pissed off this afternoon."

"No joke," Avril grumped as they passed around a street vendor, headed toward Reiko's home. "Not like either of them would have said 'no' if asked properly. Hell, I might sleep with him if he wasn't so perverse about it."

"I wouldn't go that far, not with him," Reiko said. "Maybe…" she started, but cut her sentence off with a shake of the head. "No, I think I head in a different direction."

"You go where your heart goes," Avril said. "And right now my heart is thinking German Sausage."

Reiko half-groaned. "Was accusing Ron of being perverse, suddenly reminded of your conduct," she said.

"Hey, my father always said to try it all in college, so that's what I'm out to do," Avril poked Reiko's upper arm after they stopped in front of the latter's house.

"Hanse?" Reiko guessed.

"You know I don't tell," Avril chided her. "Exam day after tomorrow, 1:30," Avril reminded Reiko.

"1:30, definitely," Reiko acknowledged the point. "Later!" She turned, took two steps to her apartment screen door, and entered. "I'm home!" she half-shouted after she closed the front door behind her.

"Ready for your exam?" Her father asked after Reiko finished the stairs to the main living area of their storefront / house combination.

"I think I have it," Reiko admitted.

Her father was not so confident. "Four Hitlers."

"Adolf, Maxwell, Ernst, Constance," Reiko answered immediately. That was a basic question, but integral to a lot of the later history classes.

"Treaties," he ordered next.

"Versailles, 1918. Britain, 1952, North America, 2003, German Surrender, 2047," Reiko answered with less than full confidence.

"The North America date is wrong, but close," her father said. "Six technologies."

"Jet Engine, 1963, Personal Computer System, 1981, Myomer Fiber, 2002, Fuel Cell Engine, 2011, Fusion Engine, 2048, Commercial Superconductor, 2105 or ME 55," Reiko was a bit more confident on these dates, and it showed.

"Passable," her father said. "You should do well enough to complete the course tomorrow," he set down the weekly legislative broadsheet on the living room low table and stood up. Even in his education course for structural engineering, history was a required course and he ensured both his sons (older than Reiko) and both his daughters (Reiko and her younger sister, Yuuki) were well versed in it.

"I hope so, father," Reiko poked him in the side as he sifted through the daily mail stack for Reiko's small ration of post proceeds. "History is a big part of our schooling, always has been. 'If you haven't learned it by now, you're doomed to repeat it' as you said?"

"Aye, have said that a few times," her father acknowledged the point. "Couple letters here and a packet from the administrative office of the Shrine Maidens?"

"Uh, okay?" Reiko received the letters and the packet, utterly unsure why the Shrine Maidens would have anything to say to her. "I didn't sign up for Shrine Maiden service somewhere along the line, did I? Honestly I don't think I could dress like one on a routine basis."

"I didn't sign you up," Yuuki said as she came into the room from the bedroom wing. "I mean, you'd score an extra ten percent cute factor with the guys if you did, but it cuts into your flexibility," her younger sister said without taking her eyes off her phone.

"On the other hand, would be good way to start into magic arts," Reiko's mother said. Unlike the rest of the family, her education went no farther than basic schooling (primary and secondary school) and she had no intention of doing directed schooling or college, but there was no accusation of her being unintelligent. Her years in the Shrine Maidens as a Time Mage Specialist was plenty proof of that.

"I'm already set on an agricultural degree, but might pick up some Time Magic skills like yours for working on ag?" Reiko said halfway between directed conversation and a side comment, given her focus was on working her way into the envelope from the Shrine Maidens.

"Would be helpful, but must be cautious. You can kill a plant in accelerated time easier than in real-time — "

Reiko yelped when she realized what she was holding. "This isn't a Shrine Maiden package!"

"Well, what is it?" Yuuki asked after a moment of silence.

Reiko held her silence for 90 seconds while she read over the cover summary page, then gasped when she realized what she was holding.

"What is it, Reiko-san?" her father asked.

"This is — we've been selected as a family to join an offworld colony group!"

"Wait, what?" Yuuki asked. "We're WHAT?"

"Serious!" Reiko shoved the cover letter into Yuuki's hands and started paging through the necessary extended information. "This is unreal! Guides for preparation, gearing up, storage of supplies and equipment for transport, how and when to sell your house or business, how to request the government hold your house or business in abeyance, personal compensation packages, the works!"

"It's real," Yuuki gaped, then handed the letter to her father. "The Empire is asking us to go to another world and start building there!"

Reiko and Yuuki's mother received the letter last, but was the fastest to read through it. "It is indeed a call to service from the Emperor, and organized through the Shrine Maidens. This is neither a light undertaking, nor a duty to be ignored."

"So we're going," Qin Lu said from the short hallway that led to his connected apartment area that he shared with the eldest of the Qin children (Qin Shun) and their occasional girlfriend.

"Not 'we', son. The request is a maximum of four persons from this household. I will petition the Administration that only you four should go. The future world is yours, children of mine. We will hold here, and prepare for the inevitable," Qin Lu Zhen said stoically. "When word of this spreads, the already-fraying world will come unglued, and the first target of that rage shall be here, the Empire."

"That's the engineer in you speaking, father," Yuuki half-denied what he said.

Her father swiped at the tip of her nose with the paper, which contacted and caused her to sneeze. "No, the engineer in me would remind you that we are too old to have any more children, given you are almost ready to enter college yourself, Yuuki. The former Artillery Captain in me is the one pointing out that this world is about to go to Hades, and it will take both our generations to make it right again. Ours, to secure the coming future, yours, to build it properly."

"Shun and I shall enlist when we go to the new world, continue the family tradition there," Lu said stoutly.

"You will have plenty of cause for it, for the rest of the world has a few Mages and I highly doubt they would let a new world go unchecked if conflict begins. Now, off to your rooms, all four of you, and see to your necessary paperwork. I will take it to the post in the morning, with my petition."

"Hai!" all four answered.

In the morning, all four packets would be delivered by hand to the regional military base, given that the mailing address was a military processing facility Lu Zhen figured he could get a leg up on the paperwork mill by cutting three civilian postal hops out of the equation. His petition would follow the same route to get to the Emperor, a direct courier from the base to the facility in question.

In a day hence, Lu Zhen, his wife Manami, and their four children would find out the truth of the matter, from a most unexpected party.

-x-x-x-

(2 August M.E. 428, 0900 Hours Lima (UTC -5))
(Memorial to the Divine Mage, Sao Paulo, Brazil, South American Union)
(Coords: 23°32'14.20"S, 46°52'59.44"W)

The world as most people knew it had stopped at the site of Eric Atrebas' first mass-use magic spell, the spellcraft necessary to stop a chemical weapons attack on Sao Paulo. Ten years later, the old world governments were gone, replaced with new states and one fledgling Empire commanded by the Divine Mage.

The Free American Administration of those heady days had gone through the area and decontaminated it, mainly because real estate in Sao Paulo was not something to be squandered. Even still, only a few transients had taken residence anywhere near the epicenter of the chemical weapons attack, nothing permanent and nothing sustained. After several years of nobody wanting to violate the space, the local civic authorities cleared the area and converted it into a park and memorial to the Sao Paulo Rebels.

And, naturally, the slab of pavement that Atrebas had spray-painted his first public rune onto had been preserved as the centerpiece of part of that memorial. The edge of the park included the apartment building that had been the genesis of the Armored Infantry, and with it the history of a world revolution was maintained even against the wishes of certain persons in high places.

The history had become something of a cult following, to the way of thinking of some.

"Got a light?" The hotel manager asked her subordinate who ran the gift shop counter.

"Always," Sanna De Leone held up her lighter for the manager to use.

"Another day, another tour group. How's traffic at the store doing?" Sanna's boss asked.

"Pretty good today, and these Shrine Maidens are exceptionally courteous. No complaints." Sanna stretched, arched her back, and held the stretch for a good ten seconds to flex out her shoulders and mid-back.

"Shrine Maidens are always courteous, even if they intend to kill you at a later time," the manager pointed out the 'street wisdom' on the subject.

Sanna grunted but didn't rise to the bait. Between the two of them, the Manager and the Clerk, they agreed on very little about magic, Mages, Shrine Maidens, or the revolution of centuries past. It was only part of the philosophical disagreement between them, the fatalist and the optimist, the cynic and the trusting, the hardened heart and the oddball romantic, but despite their differences the two got along without issue. That, and a love of smoke breaks and cheap vodka cemented their good-natured relationship.

"Still better than some of my attempted boyfriends," Sanna smiled in remembrance of those utter failures. She had met a few guys she would not have objected to getting to know better, but time had revealed trouble aplenty: one was a street racer and had the matching attitude (he had not survived a race a couple years ago), one was a loser who could not stay out of hock (also dead from a loan shark's machete), and the most recent had a temper that forced her to split (his temper ran afoul of a drug gang, and he had killed two of them at the cost of his own life).

"You are a walking trouble magnet on the dating scene, but you'll find someone. Someday. Somehow."

"Somewhere," Sanna completed the thought. She would not publicly admit that she really didn't know what she wanted in a relationship, and being twenty, she still had plenty of time to figure out where to go next or what she intended from her dating attempts. Truth to tell, she didn't know herself if she was even headed in the right direction, or if she was destined to live her life alone.

"You doing your lunch now?" the Manager asked.

"No, just a quick smoke and back to — " her sentence was cut off by the alarm on her cell phone, which she quickly silenced. "So ends my break."

"I'll spell you when you're ready to take your lunch break," the manager said.

"Thanks!" Sanna was quick to hustle into the store and open it back up, given that there was a small group of Shrine Maidens waiting to hit the gift shop and a class of children from one of the local schools, all wishing to purchase a token of remembrance of this site.

As she always had to, Sanna had to pass by a poster bin of various posters ginned up from photos and still-frame captures from that bygone era, and the presently displayed poster was a photograph of Eric Atrebas standing at parade rest next to his very infamous Infantry Armor. She didn't know when specifically the picture had been taken in that era, or if it was from a later time frame, but she always wondered what manner of stories the old Divine Mage had to tell of those days, or even of his deeper past before he came to this planet. For someone who both believed and disbelieved in the old tales and the concept of honor, she always wondered what would drive someone with his power to try to help everyone.

-x-x-x-

(2 August M.E. 428, 2330 Hours Lima (UTC +9.5))
(Alice Springs Shinto Shrine, Alice Springs, Oceania)
(Coords: 23°42'22.25"S, 133°53'59.82"E)

In the days of the Imperial Japanese reign over the continent, the Shrine Maidens had received some good choices of land to build shrines upon. Some Shrines did not survive the war, namely due to the hatred of the population released by their liberation, but those locations were few and far between. Most of the Shrines remained standing into their fourth, fifth centuries on the planet, and most of the shrines threatened to remain in place for centuries more.

Alice Springs was no different. In the days past, this city was an important waypoint for convoys of troops crossing the continent, and with it they enjoyed the comfort of an Amaterasu Shrine. Some of the residents, descended from the Japanese that had once held the continent, even visited the shrines, and some locals who were curious or exploratory would come to learn. There was always activity at the Shrine, but never the volume or depth of activity that would be seen at the various Shrines and Temples in the Multimage Empire.

Even still, Alice Springs rated only a two-man team: A Senior Shrine Maiden and a Specialist Shrine Maiden. The post was so boring, so inconsequential, and so unobtrusive, sited on a hill to the east of downtown Alice Springs, that even the Oceania Intelligence Directorate had pulled their surveillance of the facility centuries ago, simply because there was nothing to be heard. The intelligence officers tasked to the facility in those years past did not even get the luxury of hearing any salacious romance gossip, such was the lack of activity.

And Senior Shrine Maiden Chidori Mokose had to admit that she liked it that way. She had done her turn in a fast-paced environment, worked handily with the various worshippers of the Jinjiang Shrine, which was a newer Shrine dedicated to Guan Yin, the Chinese Goddess of Compassion. Those days of learning had also resulted in her two daughters, Mina and Keiko, both of which were enrolled at school in Alice Springs along with the other children. They were the most lively part of the Shrine, she had to admit, but even that was a major step down from her past adventure.

Though, Chidori was a veteran military officer as well as a Shrine Maiden. She knew well the forms of 'Murphy's Law', an advent from the Free Americans that was well respected by the nascent Multimage Empire and passed down through their ranks.

Two knocks on the frame of her personal quarters told Chidori that the knocking party was the Shrine Maiden Specialist (European Divinities), Leene Junkers. "Chidori, you awake?"

"Am now," The thirty-six year old Shrine Maiden grumped. "What gives?"

"We have a guest, a powerful one."

"Corporate?" Chidori asked.

"No, I mean powerful by way of magic power," Leene said with worry. Chidori was immediately awake when she caught the tone of Leene's voice. "I have never sensed such power, not even in the presence of the Divine Mage. This may be a God or Goddess at the Shrine."

"Hai," Now that Chidoro was fully awake (and with a pint of adrenaline in her system, fully aware), she could sense the Goddess. "I will be out momentarily, but we must be on our best."

"Definitely." Chidori was quick to throw her clothes on and sandals, given today was dry enough that she would not track mud everywhere she would go. (This was a fairly rare state of affairs in Australia in August.)

"You will need this," Leene handed the post senior Shrine Maiden a rice-paper lamp on a stick. "Be wary, that spider that has been stalking the grounds will likely be out still."

"Thank you for reminding me," Chidori said dutifully. Both were quick to exit the administrative office and take the short walk to the Sandō, or the approach to the main shrine building.

Finding the visitor was not difficult, she was also holding a rice-paper lamp in the vicinity of the Sessha (Auxiliary shrine) for Hachiman. As the two Shrine Maidens closed on her, they both could tell they were in the presence of a major goddess, until they dared not come any closer to her. All were silent for an extended minute, as the divinity finished her prayer.

"Good evening, Shrine Maidens. Please approach." The light of three rice lamps was enough to identify the visitor.

"Highness!" Leene quickly bowed to Amaterasu, as did Chidori.

"Welcome to Alice Springs, Highness," Chidori followed up. "How may we be of service, Amatarasu-sama?"

"A cup of tea and an open mind, if you can spare both, Shrine Maidens."

-x-

(10 minutes later)

"It's about the best I have, Highness, but it is not much," Chidori admitted. "This shrine is not what it once was in terms of budget or staffing."

"Too true, many of the shrines built around the world have languished or are simply abandoned, and that is understandable. There are few of faith outside the bounds of the Empire, not enough to properly sustain a full contingent as was the old days," Amaterasu said plainly. "Still, this is excellent tea, and you have done proper by the Shrine. No better could be asked, but in coming days the world shall re-learn of the terms 'faith' and 'honor', two things sorely lacking in recent decades."

"Some places are better than others, my lady," Leene said. "But are all due a reckoning?"

Amaterasu nodded affirmative. "It is not common understanding, but the end of the first revolution was not an absolute victory for the Divine Mage. It was a compromise with a promise between the parties of that reforged world. The compromise was that Atrebas would not press dominion outside his claimed territory, and the promise was that the remaining nations of the world would not meddle in the affairs of a wizard. Thus has the state of relative international harmony been maintained."

Chidori snorted into her tea. "So, the old conspiracy theories are correct. The rest of the world bought their 'freedom' by way of a devil's pact with the Divine Mage."

"Their freedom was a vapor cloud, nothing more or less," Leene said. "I have travelled, and I was raised in England. Their freedom is only to be shackled to their respective States, with varying weights of chains differentiating binding them from one land to the next. They want better, but they have already sacrificed their futures."

"A quiet rage boils under the veneer of loyalty, for nation after nation is stymied," Amaterasu took a moment to sip at her tea. "Even the most well-to-do of they look to the lands of Japan, China, and they see what could have been. And they pray for change. Usually they pray to God, or to the Gods, or to the Norns, some even pray to myself or other divinities, but many pray. It is almost all they have left. And in the coming weeks, when the world understands that they are not limited by the constraints of one world, that rage and resentment will boil over."

"The next reckoning of the world will come," Chidori snorted again. "I will admit I did not expect to live to see those past errors corrected — now I know them as compromises, but for the longest time I have believed the Emperor was in error to not have pressed."

"Tactically, Atrebas was unstoppable in those days. He will be even more so in the here and now, for no other being residing on this planet can claim the power of the Lesser Gods." Amaterasu took another sip of her tea and sighed. "Strategically, he made the right choice by taking no further action. If he had continued the war in those days, or even shortly thereafter, those who conspire against him would have claimed him no better than the Imperial Japanese of old, and his efforts would have been poisoned."

"By doing nothing, he disarmed them of their one possible propaganda piece against him," Leene smiled. "But they shall be set unto the warpath shortly, Highness?"

"The conspirators assume a level of containment that has never truly existed, and in less than a week they will know they never had control to begin with. Failing that one level of security, their paranoia will drive them to war with the Empire, and with it their nations will be forfeit to the sword of the Divine Mage. In essence, their inability to control those outside their sphere of influence will cost them everything. When provoked, the Mages will gladly strip their lethargic states bare and incorporate them into the Empire."

Chidori sighed in relief. "So, the belief that all can be unified is true."

"It will be truth," Amaterasu confirmed. "It is what a world asks for, even if they ask with only their hearts. They ask only for relief from their burdens imposed on them by failed experiments of state and governance, but they will find better soon enough."

"How may we be of assistance in this effort, Highness?" Leene asked.

"This Shrine shall play a small but significant part in the coming trials. Already in motion in North America and shortly to be in motion in South America, persons are on the move and events are happening that will displace two ladies, first to the Shrine in Turley, Oklahoma, then to here. You will need to house these refugees from their corrupt systems for two days, then on the third day you and your guests shall be evacuated by the Order of the Shrine Maidens to Japan due to the coming conflict."

"Understood, Highness," Leene said. All things considered, it was not a difficult assignment.

"The rescue of the two ladies to Kyoto will constitute a reason for war from the North Americans and the South Americans, who will be the last to declare engagement against the Mages. For your part in this endeavor, you will be reassigned with a very honored duty after you land in Kyoto, I have already made arrangements to that effect."

"Understood, Highness," Chidori said stoically. "My children?"

"On the third day, you will need to hold them back from school, as they will need to go with you to Kyoto," Amaterasu said. "They will find the locale of your new assignment appropriate to their personal energies and intentions."

"Will I be recalled to military service, Highness?" Chidori asked.

"No, your charge to the Shrine Maidens will be played over a recall notice, and you shall understand when you receive your posting." Amaterasu took a moment to finish her tea and set the teacup down. "Your dominion is the future, Mokose Chidori, Junkers Leene. The Emperor will have no trouble bringing an end to the corrupted ghosts of the past."

"We will do what we can." Leene said with a nod.

"I thank you for the tea, Shrine Maidens. Now I must be off, more preparations are needed elsewhere for the coming conflict."

Leene and Chidori saw Amaterasu out to the Ema board, where the Goddess teleported away into the night.

-x-x-x-

(3 August M.E. 428, 0005 Hours Lima (UTC +8))
(Strategic Aerospace Facility Whitesword, Southwest Korean Peninsula, Multimage Empire)
(Coords: 35° 4'55.12"N, 126°12'1.57"E) (This is the Tower locale for the airfield)

Colonel Adrian Hunter bowed to the tower crew, then bowed to the Quiet Mountain to the south of his ramp area. The first, because Marshall Yamamoto was watching this all-important flight, and the second because he would always venerate Raijin, the Kami ensconced in the mountain southwest of the tower. The Shrine in question was a three-facility-on-one-mountain affair, after Korea had been liberated the locals had reconsecrated and expanded it to include two other notable divinities of the same bent, namely Lei Kung (Chinese God of Thunder) and Thor (Norse God of Thunder).

It was notable in the history of the Empire that, after a hundred years of the Multimage rebuilding and enriching the nation, the three above Gods had convened at the common fountain of their combined shrine for drinks and cards with the Priests and Priestesses of the facility. Video record of that interaction was still easily available to the world, for any person who doubted that the Gods of old existed. Though entertaining, nothing particularly special was learned in this gathering, except that the old Norse God was easily able to drink his two counterparts under the table, and that jackass reporters tended to sizzle for several minutes after being struck by lightning.

Perchance it was due to the interest of the gods in this area, or simply strategic necessity, but the mountain range north of the shrine, which itself held no notable resources or shrines of any stature, was slated to be razed down to twenty-five meters above sea level and turned into a large strategic airbase. After a hundred twenty years of expansion in the area, the locals were all too willing to give up the mountain space, especially when it meant that the usable land area was expanded outbound from the peninsula slightly due to the dirt and rock proceeds from the mountain itself. Extra land for the farmers, extra resources for the area, extra income from the military base, and a strategic goal was met. (Contrary to conspiracy theories, no nuclear weapons or magic was used in the reduction of the mountain range to the planned level. The entire process was done by fusion-powered earthmoving and mining machines.)

Thus was born the Strategic Aerospace Facility White Sword. Sitting atop what was once a minor mountain range, the new runways, including a runway over 4000 meters long running east to west, would come at a time to prove to the rest of the world that the industrial might of the Empire was not to be underestimated, and that the military of the Empire was looking to the future. Parallel to the new airbase, several major aerospace firms set up new research facilities, hoping to take advantage of the exceptionally long runway to begin experiments with aircraft designed for space that would require longer runways for landing (initially) and eventually take off for space-bound missions.

And now, Colonel Adrian Hunter was set to begin the first trial of a new, dedicated and highly unusual fighter craft designed specifically for flight into space, combat in space, and reentry to a planet's atmosphere.

Before the Colonel even thought about setting foot in the cockpit of his aircraft, he began the mandatory safety inspection of all major systems. Given that he was a test pilot, the manufacturer made sure that he was well trained in understanding the systems of his aircraft and spotting trouble. Especially since once he became airborne and left the atmosphere, he was on his own, there would be no room for error. On the other hand, the inspection brought to light that no particular trouble was to be found on his aircraft, it was ready to fly after the mandatory fifteen minute visual check. This would be the critical space worthiness test for the model, combat trials would begin in a month if no bugs were found in exiting and reentering the atmosphere.

Only after he was satisfied that the special aircraft sensor systems and telemetry equipment were confirmed locked down tight in the bomb bays, and that his extra fuel and oxygen were topped off and ready to go, did he begin the climb up to the cockpit. Colonel Hunter sat down for his 34th cycle and 210th flight hour in the Starsword Aerospace Fighter.

-x-

"This will be a first test of an impressive order," Marshall Akihito Yamamoto said with some reverence. "What is his planned orbit schedule?"

"Two orbits around the world, then deorbit for landing here," the Tower Controller said in a clipped fashion. "Radar, Conn, verify no air traffic in our pattern," he ordered next.

"Confirmed, sir, only aircraft in our pattern are four sweep fighters from the Carrier Susano-o," the radar operator on duty today was the most senior person on the crew for that station, as was every other station in the building staffed. This was a matter of prestige, and there would be no screwups by rookies on duty, they were determined.

"Tower, Starsword Zero, cycling engine now." Special graphite-coated blast deflectors had been installed in areas where the new 'space fighter' would park and run its engines, to prevent fusion exhaust from blowing around the area. "Engine cycled, good burn, I'm showing nominal engine pressure and fuel burn."

"Copy, Starsword Zero," the Flight Controller for this mission said. "Execute published pre-flight check and hold."

Yamamoto watched the various flaps, stabilizers, and ailerons move on the aircraft for the testing, until every moving part of the control surfaces had been tested and activity at the aircraft stopped. "Now the fun begins."

"Hai," the tower controller said. "Final Checks, sound off!"

"Radar, go!"

"Flight Control, go!"

"Maintenance, go!"

"Space Control, go!"

"Ground Control, go!"

"Mission is cleared, Flight Control, please release the pilot," the Tower Controller ordered.

"Starsword Zero, Flight Control, you are go mission," the Flight Controller said to the pilot under her command.

"Copy, Tower, Starsword is requesting taxi instructions from Gate Foxtrot One."

The Tower Controller picked up one of the radio handsets. "Starsword Zero, Tower, you are cleared taxi from Gate Foxtrot One to Foxtrot Taxiway to Taxiway three to Runway 9 Right for immediate takeoff, how copy?"

"Good copy, Tower. Starsword Zero is moving now," the Colonel in the cockpit said. When taxiing, the engine exhaust was diluted with super-chilled hydrogen to reduce the temperature of the outgoing exhaust and reduce hazard to the rest of the area. The path to the runway was clear but lined with personnel at a safe distance saluting the aircraft as it went past.

Again, new blast deflectors came up at the end of the runway, to prevent the high-power fusion engine blast from blowing out onto the islands west of the runway. After a few moments at the end of the runway, the pilot rammed the throttle down to the mechanical stop and his craft leapt forward to gain speed and begin the climb. Halfway down the runway, the fighter had enough velocity to claw into the sky and the pilot set the nose of his craft at a 60 degree angle into the sky.

-x-

In normal space vehicle processes, the craft would blast off at a brisk acceleration until it topped off at 3G acceleration — three times the power of gravity — until the rocket burned out. The intention of conventional rockets was that by the time the engine power ran out, it was moving fast enough to achieve the desired orbit. A little maneuvering on the part of the satellite would get it on the right track and proper orientation for the mission.

Manned aircraft fell along the same lines, until now.

"Flight Control, Starsword Zero, continuous burn 4 G acceleration, passing 6-5-thousand meters," Colonel Hunter said. This altitude, 65 kilometers above the ground, was the highest he had run his craft. Any higher was a new record for the Starsword, and his flight plan was nose at 60 degrees above horizon until he had passed 120 kilometers, then gradually drop the nose down until he was at orbit velocity for 320 kilometers.

"Copy all, Starsword Zero. I have been informed that your optics and radio are being downlinked and are streaming at this time, Colonel. Anything to say to the Empire and thereafter to the world?"

"Affirmative, got a few things on the mind," Adrian Hunter said with some cheer. "First off, hello world from 72,000 meters and climbing! Here in a couple minutes, I will be the first person to take off in a conventional-type aircraft from a runway and leave the atmosphere. So, what this means for the world, in coming years space flight will become easier for everyone, and we can start exploring the universe for real!"

The Colonel took a deep breath. "Second, would like to take this time to thank my wife for putting up with my antics leading up to this important mission, especially with our second son on the way right now, so I'm looking forward to being back on the ground after a couple passes around the world."

"Third, while I am up here, there is a satellite that has gone completely insane and is broadcasting some harmful noise to the other satellites, which is why some commercial television and communications have been disrupted for a few minutes every few days. Here in an hour or so, I shall target and destroy this satellite to prevent it being a problem any more. Shouldn't be too difficult, it is an old, large satellite, and it won't be maneuvering. You'll see it here on live downlink."

"Fourth, let this mission be a lesson to the world: follow your heart. We can now reach for space, nothing is stopping us from doing better. If you want to grasp the stars, follow your heart. If your desire is to be the men and women behind the missions into space, follow your heart. Should your goal be only to run the corner sandwich deli, follow your heart. Find your own path and follow it, there are too many people who follow a course that they do not believe in but think it will lead them to prosperity. Too many people believe that society dictates what they must think, what they must do, but this is not the path to what your soul desires. Find your own path, and fight for it."

His instrumentation beeped. "Heads up, Flight Control, I am now officially outside the atmosphere."

"Starsword Zero, Flight Control, copy all. The record is yours, well fought and honorably won, Colonel Hunter. Commence levelling out and acceleration to achieve orbit at 320 kilometers above ground level, how copy?"

"Affirmative, Flight Control. Now dropping nose to 50 degrees above horizon and reducing engine output to 2G acceleration."

-x-

(Same time)
(NORAD II Air Defense Coordination Facility, due west of Westcliffe, Colorado, North American Union)
(Coords: 38° 8'10.78"N, 105°36'37.19"W)

The public nature of this historic flight lent itself to a rather unusual atmosphere, General Jack 'Buster' Yankee thought.

All throughout his life, people had kept saying that the Mages were the one unchanging, unflinching constant on the planet, and the rest of the world was headed into the future. Nations collapsed and reformed, people migrated, tried to expand, dissipated, but the Mages never changed. Sure, they reported their population was growing, they reported good food production, good industrial output, even demonstrated new technologies and a willingness to cooperate commercially with the rest of the world, but by and large people said they never changed.

It was even believed that they wanted to hold onto that sense of unchanging history by switching to a different metric for counting years, the year of the Mage. They counted year zero as the year that the Emperor, Eric Atrebas, took power.

Two Billion population, some 40 years after the dissolution of the Southeast Asian Democratic Republic. Three Billion population, in the year ME 162. They claimed they hit the four Billion population marker at ME 242, and with it a goodly portion of the Gobi Desert was now reclaimed for residence. They slowed down a bit, but five Billion was achieved as of ME 317, once they had a proper mastery of both above-ground and below-ground mass urban centers. Now they were building new cities into the mountainsides in China, Tibet, Nepal, and exploring the feasibility of undersea cities. Six Billion was starting to look not impossible to anyone with brains.

General Yankee knew that the whole line of 'the Mages are never going to be more than annoying spellcasters' was bullshit given their rate of expansion and the rock-solid stability of their society. The wankers in the State Department kept saying they could not be as advanced as they appeared to be, their society was stagnant. The 'official' State Department estimate on Multimage Empire population was 2.85 Billion persons, barely a full Billion more than when the Imperial Japanese had been defeated.

And now, space. With this historic flight, Jack Yankee knew that any hope of containment of the Mages was out the window. Not only did one nation out-man the rest of the world (by their claims, disputed by the rest of the world), now they could go anywhere they wanted in hours or less. And if they could put a basic little one-man craft into space at will, they could put all manner of combat craft into low orbit and drop them wherever they wanted.

As if to echo his thoughts: "Whatever the State Department wants to say the Mages can't do, you can expect they will or already have," the Warrant Officer at the Southeast radar panel said.

"Yeah, no shit," the southeast flight monitor officer answered. "One wrong move on anyone's part, and this world is going to end up one world nation as people want — only thing is, it won't be the globalists in charge."

"Aye, it'll be the Mages at the top of the heap," their watch commander (A Captain from the Air Force) said calmly. "Even at the State Department's low-ball estimate, we don't have the forces to resist them for long."

"We can't resist them for any amount of time," General Yankee said as he approached the southeast panel. "Remember that their Emperor, Eric Atrebas, annihilated the original NORAD by completely annihilating the mountain it was in. There is nothing we can do to stop that kind of capability, even if we wanted to."

"And now they have fighters capable of leaving the atmosphere and dropping down wherever they want, shit is getting real and real fast. Please tell me we have something that can counter that?" The Southeast operations officer asked.

"If they come low enough, we could hit them with normal anti-aircraft weapons. Maybe we can dogfight them, I wouldn't bet on it. I certainly wouldn't want to try," the general said.

"So we're going to do nothing about this?" The worn officer on the radar panel asked for clarification.

"Technically there is nothing we can do. Once a craft is outside the atmosphere, we have no claim of jurisdiction on it. We can't tell them to do nothing or go away or surrender. We can't even force the issue, we don't have any anti-ballistic missiles or anti-satellite missiles." The general sighed, mildly upset that his country had no options, and had once again grossly underestimated the far east Empire. "All we are in this situation is mildly frustrated spectators. Watch and learn, ladies and gentlemen, you are about to watch the future."

True to expectation, the COBRA DANE radar station in Alaska picked up the Aerofighter on time and on course. Originally designed to track incoming nuclear missiles, said radar station was also very adept at picking up satellites in orbit, and now it had a new use in tracking flights of manned spacecraft overhead, particularly the new Aerofighters that were about to make a worldwide impact. After all, if the military could do it for warfare purposes, civilians could find a way to commercialize it.

"General, we have reports from COBRA DANE of the aircraft in question. He will be on our theater map in thirty seconds." The report from the radio officer that handled the downlink to the Alaska radar station was not unexpected, but mildly unwelcome by the General.

"Acknowledged, radio. Dial me into the general aviation frequency he is using, slave it to my desk." While the radio operator was setting up the radio channel, General Yankee moved over to his desk and took a seat. While this was a rather interesting happening, it did not in any measure qualify as a major threat to the nation. One small fighter craft did not constitute a huge threat to pretty much anything, even despite its newfound maneuverability and mobility.

"Radio station is up, Channel 7 if you're ready, sir," the radio operator declared after she was done setting it up.

"I think I'll give him a few minutes before I give him a shout-out."

-x-

(5 minutes later)

Colonel Hunter, given that he was almost leveled off in proper orbit and allowing his autopilot to do the work, had decided to take something of a power nap while his craft did the actual dirty work. He also was not expecting to hear from anybody, not during this phase of the flight, so he was mildly startled on the view feed when he did hear from somebody.

"Star Sword Zero, this is NORAD facility, General Yankee speaking. Do you read me?" Adrian heard over the radio.

"NORAD, Star Sword Zero, I read you loud and clear. To what do I owe the pleasure?" The pilot asked in his best English and most level tone.

"Star Sword, just wanted to say hello from mainland North America and welcome you to the short list of persons who have flown a solo craft outside the atmosphere. True to what your flight controller told you, the whole world is watching and listening, and I figured rather than getting into the whole hand wringing and vapors of having military aircraft in orbit, I'd welcome the new future that comes to us all. After all, most of the great commercial achievements of the past several hundred years have occurred because the military pushed the envelope, so I figure this is probably the start of something pretty beneficial." General Yankee sounded a little bit worried to Colonel Hunter's ears, but he figured it was a very good point regardless.

"First and foremost, thank you for the accolades, General Yankee. Second, you and I both are looking forward to commercial aerospace technology, it would be absolutely wonderful to do the Tokyo to New York express in one hour rather than sixteen. Nevermind the prospect of getting fresh Bering Sea caviar or Gulf Coast shrimp overnight or less, if aerospace cargo aircraft takes off."

"Definitely, Star Sword Zero. Fresh lobster and important paperwork around the world in less time than most people take to frame the thought. Please pass my congratulations on to your aerospace engineers, to the Emperor if you meet him, and we'll try our best to catch up to you here shortly. Maybe even beat you out in the next round."

"Looking forward to the next round, General." Colonel Hunter was not convinced that there would be a next round, or that the North Americans would win it. Still and all, he had to at least give them the notion of hope, and the illusion that there would be a contest of it.

"Have a safe and relaxing flight, Colonel Hunter. NORAD is out."

A brief spark of static presaged that the radio channel had cut out. "Was not expecting a call out from another ground station, but not unwelcome. We will see if anybody else's awake and feels like talking as I pass around the world," Colonel Adrian Hunter said with some cheer to voice.

As he passed around the world in his two orbits, he would get shout outs from several other nations. Most of them would be civilian shout outs, but a few would be military as was the radio call from NORAD.

In decades to come, this exo-atmospheric flight would be considered the first of the marker points that presaged a great and terrible conflict to come. There would be more, and each marker would increase the instability of the world.

-x-x-x-

(3 August M.E. 428, 0005 Hours Lima (UTC +1))
(International Investment Bank of Zurich, Switzerland)
(Coords: 47°22'8.51"N, 8°31'53.88"E)

There really wasn't anything that Theodor Baumgartner could say was wrong with his life. He had been in the same company's workforce for some fourteen years, in his present position of fraud inspector for four years, and his educational background gave him opportunities to advance all the way up to the director level for the investment bank. His home life was average if not particularly exciting, with a decent house, a good wife, two daughters and a son in school right now, nothing out of the ordinary there. His retirement funds were on track to put him in a cushy retirement by the time he reached the age of sixty, his investment funds ran fairly decent risk of putting him in a position where he can walk away from the workforce by fifty without touching his retirement, and otherwise there was no trouble in the finance department. The worst he had seen or heard of crimes in his immediate vicinity was a purse-snatching incident several months ago, nothing of the major crimes or spectacular happenings that were starting to become the hallmark of major cities around the world. He had not even been involved in a vehicular crash in some seven years, the last one being a distracted driver that had run a stop light and clipped the rear of his vehicle as he was legally crossing an intersection. All in all, nothing exciting was brewing in his life and he rather liked it that way.

Or, at least, he liked to think that nothing exciting happened in his life. The stark reality was far different, his job was at the forefront of business dealings with all the major nations of the world, given modern-day Switzerland had set itself up as the world's exchange house for banking and investment reaching across national borders. By simple virtue of being an investment security agent and investment fraud investigator, he was at the forefront of tracking malicious or unusual investments and purchases across national borders. Even if he'd like to claim otherwise, he had a network of relationships that spanned the globe, and those relationships included some of the rarest: he was one of the few people throughout the world entrusted with direct contact with the major financial players in the Multimage Empire.

And it would be this relationship, the ability to talk directly and frankly with some of the more exclusive financial players in the largest empire on planet, that would blow the lid open on something major happening.

Theodor opened the office door to his personal office and yawned mightily. He was in to work just after midnight because he had been prompted by the watch room that major and unscheduled purchases and activity were starting to come out of the secretive far East Empire. It was not unheard of for the mages to start a fresh morning with some loud noise and loud purchases, but in this case the nature of the purchases and the sheer amount of them was what had prompted his abrupt end to his sleep cycle.

If nothing else, his computer was faster to wake up than he was. In a matter of a few seconds, the fraud investigator was inside his terminal and ready to begin looking at the records.

"I have coffee brewing right now, should be ready in five minutes," the secretary for the fraud investigation area reported. Apparently other investigators had been called in as well, to warrant an early start for the secretary as well.

"Thank you, with only three hours of sleep I will need it," Theodor replied with something of a crooked smile. It was obvious to the secretary that he was only barely hanging on to consciousness, though from what she heard the sheer scale of what was going on would certainly wake him up completely with an adrenaline dump.

"I need to find a line to some of the good military coffee, like what I used to drink when I was an artillery spotter," she said. "The kind that has 3 to 4 times the amount of caffeine of the stuff you can buy off the shelf. I wonder if it would be possible to import some of that, or something equivalent?"

"Don't say that too loud, if you swapped out that kind of coffee into the drinking supply around here, the programmers would raise a bronze statue to you." It was a common in-joke amongst the investigation group that the one crew in the building that can drink more coffee than the investigators was the programmer staff.

"I hope they make my figure a little more flattering if they do so," she said on the way away from the investigator's office. Theodor arched an eyebrow at the retreating receptionist/secretary, mainly because he didn't consider her figure all that bad to begin with. She may have been a little bit on the heavier side then his wife, particularly due to her five children and the love of Chinese food, but he had seen worse just within 100 yards of his office.

With the promise of coffee in the air, he set his mind to searching out the case file for today's major happening, which was not all that difficult to find. It was the most active file in the system at this time, mainly because of the investigators being solely focused on it, and the increasing amount of data being put into it from the data collection specialists. When he opened the file, Theodor was immediately treated to a synopsis of the major happening, and when he read it he was immediately thankful he did not yet have any coffee they could drop or inadvertently knock over.

"They want how much of what?" Theodor asked his screen. "4000 total earthmoving equipment units? What the hell for? And who in the Multimage Empire is paying for this?" He asked in series, though he readily expected no answer from his screen.

The necessary details would be in the sub-documents, and as these things happen they were still being filled out by the data collection specialists in the levels below his office. Purchases on this kind of scale always had major fingerprints and always had major intended destinations, neither which could be concealed with any degree of success. The Multimages had a habit of not even trying to conceal or obfuscate, they simply did what they wanted to do, what they could afford to do, and let the rest of the world speculate as to what they actually intended. And if nothing else, a check from the government of the Multimage Empire never bounced.

A quick look into the supporting documents gave him enough answer to figure out who call first over in Beijing to figure out where this was going. So, once he had a defined Department inside the Ministry of the Interior, he reached for his archaic Rolodex and started flipping through until he arrived at the necessary contact card. Dialing the number was not a difficult affair in the here and now, his phone was controlled from a program on his computer, one that he notoriously distrusted with retaining contact information because it'd dumped his contact database several times over the years, but one which also made international dialing incredibly easy. He selected the nation from a drop-down list, the region from another drop-down list, and then typed in the ten digit destination number into a dialing field, and lastly pressed the place call button to begin the process.

His phone immediately lit up, activated the speakerphone, and began the process of dialing outbound. The international routing took an extra ten seconds to link up, an artifact of the old Bell Labs telephone routing system that had not quite been improved or purged from the newer systems, then the distinctive pulse sound for phone routing inside the Multimage Empire. He only went through two iterations of dials before the phone was answered on the far end, several thousand kilometers east of where he was sitting.

"Equipment and resources, Seiji Yoko speaking," the voice on the far end of the phone said with some cheer.

"Seiji? It's Theodor, International Investment in Zürich."

"Theodor? Your superiors must've kicked you loose real early, if I'm doing the math right it's not far removed from midnight in Switzerland." Seiji sounded a bit shocked, but not impossibly so. All throughout the corporate world, every major department employee knew that at one time or another in their life they were subject to call up at the most ungodly hours, even in the Multimage Empire. Possibly more so? Labor practices in that more secretive Far East Empire were not exactly widely known outside its borders.

"The caffeine express just landed on my desk," he said as the secretary delivered two tall cups of coffee.

"Thank the gods for coffee, the fuel of businesses across this planet." Seiji chuckled briefly, then Theodor heard the unmistakable clatter of a crystal coaster and a coffee cup interacting on the far side of the phone. "Trying to cut back though, my doctors are making noise about high blood pressure, the usual. Reduce caffeine, reduce salt, increase exercise, you've probably heard the same drills as me."

Theodor grunted in response. "My doc started on that a couple years back, but I know for a fact that if I was forced to give up coffee, I'd probably be in jail for capital murder."

"Too true," Seiji said in a spirited acknowledgement. "What can I do for you this morning?" He started the business dance in a cordial manner.

"Got a major investment package just across the International Investment Bank, sounds like it might be your department at play. 4000 units of earthmoving and specialized terraforming equipment?" Theodor hoped he wasn't being too blunt in this case, but Seiji was generally not one to try to dance around the bush as some others in the higher echelons of Multimage finance tended to be.

"Yeah, that was me. New project initiative from on high, don't know who specifically originated the plan, or what it's all about, but Section 4 intends to move a lot of dirt for specialized settlements and research facilities. Thing that gets me, though, the equipment requirements are all fusion-powered equipment, no diesels like the normal construction outfits tend to run. That adds about fifty percent more to the equipment price tag per vehicle, but the way this has been explained to me is that it will all go to use and all be in heavy use for quite a while."

"Hydroponics?" Hydroponics and other alternate crop growing technologies were being pushed heavily by the Multimage Empire at a national level, primarily because growing space in the rather massive Empire was at a premium. Anything that could be done to increase crop yields with little or no footprint was welcome technology.

"Hydroponics is involved in this, but that material is not running across my desk. I can ask around and see what else is going on in that direction, something about this doesn't feel like this is strictly for hydroponic research. This is more straight terraforming, less about space maximization."

Inadvertently, Theodor realized that he had just stumbled across a rather significant clue, even if he didn't realize or properly understand what it was pointing to. The Mages had a habit, almost an obsession, whereby they would intrinsically maximize the use of space and density of population centers as they expanded and terraformed into new territories. The rumors about their under-the-mountain cities was that they would have population densities to rival any of the megacities around the world. That manner of population density demanded efficiency on a massive scale, something the Multimage society had grown quite accustomed to, but what Seiji had just said was almost a complete abandonment of that efficiency.

"Have any manufacturers lined up yet?" Theodor asked to immediately divert the topic, mainly because he didn't want to have Seiji clam up on the conversation.

"Working on the usual suspects, Caterpillar in America, Kubota in Japan, thinking about Rhinemetall as well. If you know any big players in the business that can give us some flexibility, I'm always willing to entertain offers." From his tone of voice, Theodor figured that Seiji had not realized he had just slipped up, or was downplaying it psychologically as no big deal. Truth to tell, Theodor himself didn't really understand what the big deal was there, but he knew there was a big deal involved. Something was going on, something a lot bigger than Seiji was letting on or was privy to, and somebody needed to start figuring out what it was before the Multimages decided to spring a nasty surprise on the world.

"I know a few of the big boys, I'll see if they have any availability. They may be willing to fly out your way, give you a couple presentations on some of their latest and greatest equipment." Theodor changed screens on his computer to look at some other documentation. "Just to confirm, the transaction for $40 billion, this is official and verified?"

"Confirmed, $40 billion is our initial price tag. Some of the players above me are expecting the prices go higher for certain specialty equipment and processes, but word on the street is that at least part of this is operating with a blank check, so there may be more purchases coming this way at a later time."

"Understood, I'll pass it up the chain that this is a confirmed transaction," Theodor said. "Good luck on your new project."

"Thank you, Theodor. Honor and tranquility to you," he said as his way of closing. It was a somewhat common closing and accolade throughout the Multimage Empire, and a rather endearing one at that. A lot less stiff and formal than traditional European closings.

"And to you, tranquility and a good morning. Speak to you later, bye-bye."

Theodor immediately began composing an email to his superiors about his conversation. His email would be considered the second marker of multiple in the coming shit-storm that would involve the world, the first flag of a major operation beginning inside the Multimage Empire, an operation that no other nation would like.

-x-x-x-

(3 August M.E. 428, 0330 Hours Lima (UTC +2))
(Orapa Diamond Mine, Botswana, African States Combine)
(Coords: 21°19'20.17"S, 25°22'29.44"E)

Just another day at work, Kayah thought to herself. Just another day at work.

Kayah was prompt to pull up to the security facility for the diamond mine, like usual she immediately stopped her vehicle and put it in park so that it could be inspected. Smuggling and terrorism were both major concerns for the company, and for the nation as a whole, given that the diamond mines were one of the largest sources of raw capital for the nation. Even if she held a decent rapport with the guards, she always did her inspections by the book. No sense in taking risks and thereby jeopardize her job.

"How are you this morning, Miss Kayah?" The lead guard at the delivery station asked. Old Uncle Sam, as he was commonly known to staff and visitors alike, was nearing retirement and looking forward to it. He had always been a good and friendly guard, always helpful to the delivery drivers and always wary on the pickup drivers.

"Looking forward to my vacation next week, my daughter is already out at my sister's place in Seoul in South Korea. The pictures she is sending of some of the landmarks are absolutely tantalizing."

"You've earned it, Miss Kayah, you are one of three drivers that routinely meets your delivery schedule and never gives us trouble. And don't think I'm just saying that, because I have reported it to management more than once." Old Uncle Sam always took his time with the mirror, making sure that nothing unusual was on the bottom of the vehicles. It would not serve well to have one of the delivery trucks destroyed by a bomb attached to the vehicle, much less the damaged material or loss of life.

"I definitely want to tour the forbidden city in Beijing, but I also want to visit the administration building and the museum of the great war." Kayah sighed. "Next week feels so far off."

"The place I always liked visiting when I was young and willing to travel was Tokyo. Some of the best dining in the world is downtown Tokyo, the best mix of Eastern style and Western-style I've had. If you're spending time in town, I suggest you do a restaurant crawl. They have special tours for it, and while it will leave you feeling very full, probably overfull, it's worth it."

"Oh? I didn't know you did any traveling back in the day," Kayah said with some surprise. Old Uncle Sam did not strike her as the type to travel.

"Back in the days after I got out of the Army, before I settled here in security I did a tour of the world. Couple times after I started here, I took some vacations out to the Mage territory, one vacation up to Russia, I don't recommend doing that in November again, visited a couple spots in South America, and then I settled down, got married, now I have four kids in college." It was his turn to sigh mightily. "Enjoy the past while it lasts, the future only gets slower and less motivating to travel the world."

"Going to do any travel after you retire?" Kayah asked as he began the freight inspection for the delivery.

"Don't think so, young one. These old bones have enough trouble getting up in the morning, I don't think I could imagine anymore trying to go around a large city as a tourist."

Kayah did not mention that one of the up and coming tourist spots in the world was Singapore, and the reason for that was the increasing prevalence of persons going there to have magical age restoration done on them. It was a costly procedure, and demand for it would be very high, but persons who had it done to themselves considered it an absolutely amazing procedure to remove thirty years of aging from their body. Or more. There'd been some news stories about people having enough age stripped off their body to put them back into early teenage years.

Kayah was not yet old enough to really consider such a procedure, or aged enough to make such a procedure cost-efficient, but she was considering doing that a later time. After all, working to the age of retirement, then having all those working years removed from your body, and then finding a better job and enjoying your younger years sounded like a good plan to her.

"Yeah, I think I'll just stay here and enjoy my sunset years. I've seen enough of the world to know that the times are changing, and I kind of want to see what comes of the world after this next balloon goes up. I just hope it holds off long enough for me to actually retire."

"I don't think we'll see it in our lifetime, but soon enough, someone is going to make a move."

"Everything looks like it's all right, you are cleared to enter for your delivery. See you here in a few on your way out," old Uncle Sam said.

"I'll be back this way here in about twenty minutes." She let off the clutch and put some gas on to start her truck moving.

Kayah had no way of knowing that she would not make it to twenty minutes alive.

-x-

The problem with the delivery was not so much an issue with her, it was with one of the suppliers she was delivering for.

Like most heavy equipment around the world, the use of fusion engines was considered something to be done to help cut costs. After all, feeding one of these engines simple tap water and cleaning out the electrolysis filter was enough to provide fuel for hours of run time for even some of the heaviest equipment. Granted, diesel equipment was still in use around the mine, primarily because it was cheaper to maintain and easier to work with in certain circumstances, but by and large the fusion engine ruled in the heavy equipment market.

Keeping these engines running was itself an industry of no small importance. And, like any other major industry, you had both the major players and you had people willing to operate under the table to make a quick buck. The largest supplier of replaceable parts for the fusion engines on the mine was one of the latter companies, a particularly shady outfit that loved sourcing used parts and refurbishing them, against regulations and manufacturer recommendations, but companies still tried to cut corners wherever they could.

Unfortunately for everybody involved, this under the table company had an infestation of persons who did not particularly like the mine, or did not like the government, or both.

Inside one of the parts containers for large shielding plates, there was no shielding plate in the container, it was only a single device. The device in question was configured to detonate once it entered a certain geographic area, courtesy of the global positioning satellite system. The device itself was strikingly crude, it had more explosive than it actually needed, but the simple blast was not the killing agent of record.

Kayah never knew what hit her. The initial blast drove part of the box truck frame through the crew cab of her delivery truck, and that frame member killed her instantly. It also saved her the experience of being slain by the chemical agent included in the package. The chemical cloud released by this device would kill all exposed personnel in the facility not already in the mine, a goodly portion of the neighboring town, and present an ongoing hazard for weeks of cleanup efforts.

Before the fuel fire from the delivery truck even settled, theories and accusations would be on the airwaves about who did it. In time, a proper investigation would reveal who delivered the attack, but that information would come too little too late for a world already on the brink of war.

-x-x-x-

(3 August M.E. 428, 0730 Hours Lima (UTC Time))
(Multimage Combat Submarine Rapier, Middle of Southern Atlantic Ocean, roughly 1040 kilometers west of St. Helena Island)
(Coords: 16°36'14.65"S, 15°25'14.35"W)

"Conn, sonar, we have two major contacts, carrier Eagle and her escort 'cans is 3-3-0 at 29 kilometers, course 2-7-5 at 15 knots. Looks like she's headed into port at Santiago, sir. Second contact is Battlecruiser Leopard and her escort 'cans at 0-2-5, distance 27 kilometers, she's headed northbound on course 0-0-5 at 22 knots."

"Burning some hydrogen to head up to warmer waters," the boat XO said. "Wonder what they're intending, unless this has to do with the rumor that the South Americans were involved with that diamond mine gas attack?"

Captain Argo Jones grunted. "Power projection is the better-than-50-50 guess at this point, if I was the South Americans and that wasn't my bust, I'd be severely pissed off to be accused of such a dishonorable strike."

"True, sir," Commander Yuna Kitose answered. "Other possible is this is their annual 'freedom of navigation' tour by Dakar in Senegal. If they follow to pattern, they'll do Dakar, Dakhla in Western Sahara, Casablanca and Rabat in Morocco, Portimao in Spain, then they've got choices. Last year, they did their screw-blue-tattoo stop in Bermuda, they could do anywhere in the Caribbean for a stop this go around. Been a while since they stopped in Antigua, were I their fleet commander I would do that as the shore leave stop this year."

"Lots of white sand beaches and exotic beauty for them to partake, for certain," Argo said with something of a crooked smile. "Pity we can't take a pass by Grenada, but duty calls for now and we are not scheduled for a port visit on this tour."

"So, who do we follow? Eagle or Leopard?"

"We follow the Leopard, a carrier headed into port is no big deal. If this blows up in the next couple days, the carrier won't be in a position to do anything immediately, but you already would have a battlecruiser prowling the waves." Captain Argo looked up from the map table. "Helm, Conn, set your course true northbound, speed twenty kilometers, then bring her up to periscope depth. XO, when we are at depth, deploy SSC antenna and ESM antenna for fast-comms. Naval Headquarters needs to know things may get busy over here."

"Hai, Captain," the XO answered with a quick nod.

"Course 0-0-0, speed 20 kilometers, aye sir," the helmswoman answered after the XO had finished her acknowledgement. "Coming right to 0-0-0, passing through 2-9-0 at this time, we are five degrees right per second."

The standard procedure was to do elevation (depth) changes separate of bearing changes, though such procedures went out the hatch during wartime. So, the XO had plenty of time to dial in the message to SubComEast (Submarine Command Eastern Seas, located at Mumbai in India). She was at the periscope and awaiting deployment depth for the antennas, they were not really in a position to need the periscope since they knew what they were looking at in terms of stalking the enemy 'battle group'. One battlecruiser, one guided missile cruiser, three destroyers, all fusion powered.

Argo's eyes naturally went to the rear of the XO, mainly because the two of them had struck up a relationship over their years of serving together on this submarine. It wasn't considered particularly smart to be involved with members of the crew, but at least with the Mages it was not considered against the regulations. As these things happened, given the advancing pace of their relationship, Argo figured if Yuna found herself with child, he could turn over the boat to her (she was considered one of the best XOs in the fleet, so her promotion was almost guaranteed) and he could head in for a desk job to see to the child after maternity leave was up. Ten years on combat boats was enough for him, Captain Jones told himself routinely. (He did not know that his ultimate destination would be a teaching position, for circumstances to come.)

"At periscope depth, Captain," the Helmsman reported.

"Deploy ESM," Captain Jones ordered. The sound of the antenna telescoping up was not the loudest sound on the boat, but it was still a bit unnerving to people whose motto was 'silence is your lifeblood'.

"ESM up, Leopard group appears to be running EMCON, sir. Only minor navigational radars detected," the electronic warfare officer reported. EMCON, standing for EMmission CONtrol, meant that they were deliberately not making any radar noise to avoid counter-detection. Radars of the type commonly used by warships could be detected by electronic warfare sensors at a range triple the effective range that the ship would get any returns from their own radar. As such, wise warship captains only used their radars when they were in combat — or when they wanted to warn a potential attacker against conducting the attack.

"Copy, EWO. XO, deploy SSC antenna and upload message, then secure both antennas."

After the commo laser antenna was up, transmission of the message took only a few seconds. The EWO was involved again, this time to ensure that the copy sent back down from the satellite contained the same text. As it did, he gave a thumbs-up to the XO after he read through, who then dropped the two antennas and secured the periscope station.

"Helm, set your depth to 600 meters and lay in a course to tail the Leopard at a distance of 45 kilometers. I don't expect anything to come of this tail, but better safe than sorry given the state of the world."

"Hai!" better than half the bridge crew shouted in response.

A week hence, they would not hold the illusion that their actions were routine and uneventful.

-x-x-x-

(3 August M.E. 428, 1015 Hours Lima (UTC +3))
(Oil Terminal, Ahmadi, Kuwait, Mideast Empire)
(Coords: 29° 4'7.03"N, 48°10'17.53"E)

"Reeve!" A familiar voice shouted at the ship's gangplank.

"Faisel! Ha!" Reeve (Properly, Captain Reeve Barker of the Oil Supertanker Kraken's Belch) immediately diverted from his intended trip to the crew bus to join his old friend. "You old pirate!" The two closed up for a handshake and shoulder embrace. "How's it going?"

"It goes very well! Very well, even if nobody will let me near the captain's chair on the supertankers!" Faisel (Properly, retired Captain Faisel Bin Saleh) walked his old friend over toward a waiting car. "I will admit to missing the smell of the open seas, but these days on shore, coordinating oil shipments and seeing to the construction of cargo ships, it is just as hectic as the life of a sea captain!"

"Damn good to see you making out well, then," Reeve said as he ducked into the crew car. Faisel hopped in the driver's seat and was on the way down the pier before the crew bus for his ship was on the move.

The process was fairly routine, but time-consuming nonetheless. The high-level explanation on the process was as follows: a Supertanker would fill up its internal tankage of Crude Oil at an export pier, sail out to the import pier for the buyer of the oil, and offload the oil to the holding tanks for the buyer. The ship would then sail back to the export pier, fill up, and head out to the next buyer (sometimes the same buyer, depending on the contracts involved).

At both ends of the process, the filling at the exporter and the offloading at the importer, the ship would spend some 24 hours receiving or dumping its contents for that run, and those 24 hours did not require a full staffing on the ship unless major repairs were needed. In most cases, the crew would take a billeting off-site, usually in a hotel, and would use their down-time to do some shopping for personal materials or supplies for the ship. Another major thing done off-the-ship was provisions for the ship's crew for their weeks-long journey between ports, as these ships tended to run nearly-continuously they tended not to make extraneous stops unless absolutely needed.

At the Oil Terminal in Ahmadi, the big commercial district was East Ahmadi, though there was some shopping and dining to be had to the north in Fahaheel. The major food provisioner for the ships was in Fahaheel, which is where the crew bus would stop first.

"When I saw your ship's registry on the incoming board this week, I knew I had to make some time to visit an old friend while you're pulling another round of crude. What run does International have you on this year?" Faisel asked.

"Southeast Asia, the new oil terminal at Phu Long in Vietnam." The blank look from Faisel told Reeve more than enough about his answer. "Western side of the bay, adjacent to the Cat Hai naval facility."

"Oh, I know that area. Used to deliver cargo at the cargo terminals in Hai Phong," Faisel said. "Cat Hai was five kilometers starboard of us on the way in, never had a run in or out of there where we weren't nearby some naval traffic. Military oil terminal?"

"Yeah, but I don't know what for," Reeve said. "It's strange as all possible that the Mages would be stockpiling oil for military use, almost all their equipment is Fusion powered. And they run a very tight schedule for in-and-out at that oil terminal."

"Yes, strange, but nobody accuses the Mages of being the most rational men on planet," Faisel pointed out. "What's your preference for dining today? My pleasure."

"Let's do a salad shop, doctor is riding me for cholesterol," Reeve said. The disgust in his voice told enough of a tale, he did not want to admit weakness on the matter but knew better than to push his luck.

"Ah, the great hazards of growing old," Faisel said. "I know a good place down the block from a grocer you will want to visit."

"Got it," Reeve knew what he meant about the grocer's comment, they would not be stopping at a grocery store after lunch. There was something serious in the air, and Faisel wanted to get in on it with his help — or get ahead of it, again with his help.

-x-

(11 hours later, 2345 Lima (UTC +3))
(Unmarked / unclaimed defended compound, West Ahmadi)

Reeve was very thankful he had done a light salad for lunch, without the heavy dressings that he normally used to make them bearable in terms of taste. Anything more stout than his meal choice would have invoked stress-puking by now.

International Crude and Fuel Services, Reeve's parent company, was not what it appeared to be on the books. Certainly, they did a lively trade in the now-largely-obviated crude oil trade, and something less lively in the Bulk Coal trade, but International was also a many-splendored company with men and women hailing from diverse backgrounds throughout the world. In short, the company was assembled from a rogue's gallery of the best of the best and best of the worst throughout the world, who also happened to handle bulk fuel shipping.

Reeve was one such 'best of the worst', a reformed mercenary who had done wet work on four continents in his youth, which was where he had met Faisel, a true-to-life honest pirate that targeted the 'scum pirates' who took cruise ships hostage for ransom money. Faisel's non-piratical-pirate career had run dry after he waxed the competition, so he got into honest merchantman work — until his stint driving supertankers had run aground not too far down the Kuwaiti coast from where they were standing right now.

"Team two, in position," Reeve's XO reported by radio. Wilhelm Georg, European as any man could lay eyes on, heavy German Accent, but possessed of odd hobbies such as lumberjack tournament competitions and archaic machine gun collection. It was the latter talent that brought him to the fortunes of International, where his naturally regimented mindset (developed and refined by eight years in the European Army) made him an excellent XO for a supertanker. His ability to chew asses in six languages did not hurt his employability, either.

"Team three, ready to go," The Chief Engineer reported. Mona LeBlanc hailed from Martinique in the Caribbean, and was one of the few persons in the employ that was not explicitly military-trained or similar. That said, she was excellently self-taught on mechanical mayhem, and her viciousness with a shotgun was second to none on the crew.

"Any second thoughts?" Reeve asked.

"None here," Faisel said. "She wants out, says she has major information for the one player not involved. Where you happen to be headed."

"Then let's move," Reeve said. "All sections go," he ordered by radio.

The order to move set off a chain reaction of happenings that Reeve now had little control of, but he expected to go at least somewhat to his plan. The only door to the complex was on the south side — team 2's breach location — the other teams would use ladders purloined from the Natural Gas Terminal to scale the 15-foot walls both ways. The ladders would throw off any attempt to pursue, hopefully long enough to get out to sea before the tangos wised up.

Faisel rucked up to the wall, set his ladder in place, and received the second ladder from Reeve. The former mercenary hiked up the outside ladder, climbed the extra couple feet up the wall, and took position to the side of the climbing path that Faisel would need to take to place the inside ladder.

Four black-clad shapes entered the main gate, and the lead gave Reeve a thumbs-up as they moved to cover positions in the courtyard while the first and third team members climbed over the wall. Reeve kept his rifle sighted on the one sentry on the east face of the building, a particularly fat sentry that was asleep at his post, though he lost aimpoint when he was the last of six to climb down the south side ladders.

The sleeping sentry remained alive momentarily as the three teams converged on the building from three directions, utterly unseen by the guards inside the building who were largely asleep already.

One of the prostitutes that did the rounds in this complex had been kind enough to detail the routines of the guards and the locations of interest. The main building had some rooms she knew were secured, but didn't know what was in two of them. The out-building had the resident's small guard force of six, the plan was to do them with silenced weapons and knives. The only other major threat was the resident himself, a major oil tycoon that was known to play with (highly illegal) full-auto weapons from time to time. At this time of night, no burglar would dare stir in this vicinity, if the police did not skewer them, the resident would, therefore one sentry on duty would be considered optimal.

Yeah, right, Reeve thought as he crept into the guard barracks with his suppressed 9mm pistol leading the way. Faisel, Mackenzie the Knife, and Goggles followed him in, and each had their unique ways of killing quickly and quietly.

Faisel took the first left, entered the crew room, found only one guard in the room. He hovered over the bed briefly, inverted his scimitar, and thrust down on the guard's neck. The bed squeaked louder than he tried to scream, but nothing untoward since the man had not much of his neck left to use in such an attempted alarm.

Goggles entered the right-side crew room, found just one guard, and set to work on his own. His prefered weapon for 'stealthy' kills was not particularly quiet, per se, but it was so unusual it never aroused suspicion. The ship's electrician used a pair of jumper cables attached to pointed probes, both of which were wired to a 24-volt deep cycle battery he wore as a backpack. By stabbing a man on both sides of the ribcage, the instantaneous current jolt through his system going from right to left across the heart invariably stopped him dead before he could make a vocal sound about it. The short spark of electrical discharge was audible at distance, especially at night, but few would recognize it as sinister. After he was sure his quarry was deceased, Goggles holstered the probes and snapped them down to prevent them getting loose and accidentally frying a friend.

Mackenzie The Knife entered the third guard room, which was not a bedroom but a break room with a drowsy guard digging around the freezer in the room. On this one, she slammed the open freezer door on his head, leaned into it, and used her free arm to wrench his shoulders clockwise from the orientation of his neck. The break sound and slump of his body was somewhat loud, but not enough to stir the two remaining sleepers. With that accomplished, she found a carrot in the fridge and set to munching on it while she rifled through his pockets for cash or trinkets.

Reeve did the last two himself, now that three were down there was less chance that a suppressed pistol would wake the others. He took aim in bedroom four, sighted the guard up, and drilled him in the forehead from five meters. Across the hallway, he peeked his pistol through the bead curtain, sighted up the head again, and fired one round. A brass catcher on the side of the pistol caught both cases, preventing a need to chase the brass down in the dark to deny the enemy any evidence.

"Teams, Lead, five guards down. Execute entry."

"Two, moving!"

"Three, on the way!"

Reeve entered the front door of the complex by stepping over the deceased body of the one sentry on duty. Wilhelm had done that one, an old Ka-Bar fighting knife to the guard's kidney had stunned the guard, followed by a couple backhand stabs to the chest to finish the job. Inside, the complex was spacious but held few occupants, just the oil tycoon and his mistresses. Orders were to eliminate all persons, given the necessity for secrecy. One maid, one cook, two mistresses, and the tango himself fell to the guns of the mercenary crew in the space of 90 seconds.

"Got 'em all, sir," Mona said as Reeve entered the master bedroom. "We have three locked rooms, number one is up here, number two is on the ground floor, and number three is the basement. Where do we start?"

"Right here," Reeve booted through the locked door that was adjacent to the master bedroom. He was a bit surprised to find some kind of large videoconferencing computer array in the room, but paid it no heed. He was here on a rescue mission, not espionage, so he closed the door.

"That was anticlimactic," Faisel said after he had a quick look at the computer hardware. "That rig has to be about ten grand, maybe a bit more."

"Do a lot with computers nowadays?" Reeve asked as they headed back down stairs to the main floor and the locked room off the entry hall.

"Some, mostly in buying them. No hostage on the top floor makes sense, though, you wouldn't want a sobbing hostage ruining your nookie time with their baleful noises."

"You are absolutely incorrigible, Faisel," Reeve gave his friend a slap on the shoulder before he booted the second locked door open. After it was kicked in, neither moved for ten seconds as they gaped at the contents.

"Lieber Gott, that looks like it might be useful, mein herr," Wilhelm said after he saw the contents of the arms bunker they had just kicked into.

"Party time, boys. Get them wrapped up and ready for transport, we'll locker them on the ship," Mona said to her team. Finding sheets, tarps, and other ways of wrapping large amounts of guns was not a difficult task in this household.

"Guess that makes for door number three," Faisel said as he led the way into the kitchen, then down the stairs to the locked door.

"Yeah, door number three," Again, Reeve applied his boot to the door, and again the less-than-sturdy door this cheapskate oil magnate preferred did not hold up to the abuse.

Inside the room, finding a lightswitch was not difficult, but finding the lightswitch also revealed what they were looking for, in all its mystery.

"Faisel?" One of the three ladies in the room asked. Reeve guessed her in her mid-twenties, and underweight given her size, but what immediately struck him was how she knew the name of one of the invaders. "And you would be Reeve," she said, which increased the creepiness factor by two orders of magnitude instantly.

Faisel cleared his throat. "Reeve, may I introduce Annika, Leena on the bed over there, Mokona in the chair, and Kyle sitting on the weight bench. I've never met them physically until now, but we've been planning this escape for a year."

"How di — wait, are you four Psionics?" Reeve asked.

"Yes, all four of us," Mokona said as she stood up and set her book down. She was the oldest of the four, late thirties, also rather thin but not to the point of being cripplingly thin. "Now that you know who you will be rescuing, do you object?"

"Hell no," Reeve said before he smiled. "My best missions in my youth were rescuing Psionics and getting them to Mage territory. Never did four in one run, though, this will be a personal record."

There was a bounty offered by the Mages for the rescue and extraction to Mage territory for psionics who were being abused for nefarious purpose, to the tune of 2 million credits per successful rescue. Reeve already had an untouched bank account in a 'black' bank with twelve million credits to his name from his youth, double what he ever expected to need for retirement, but he figured adding a share of 8 million credits to that account would help cement a lazy lifestyle after he decided to settle down.

The crew of the Kraken's Belch would find out a couple weeks hence that their actions materially contributed to the changes in the state of the world, even if they did not understand at all what manner of landmine they had just stepped on.

-x-x-x-

(4 August M.E. 428, 0800 Hours Lima (UTC -5))
(Organizer's Ranch, outside of Hustonville, Kentucky, North American Union)
(Coords: 37°28'16.03"N, 84°48'20.23"W)

Amelia Masters waited for the eighth node to connect to her meeting server before she tripped the interlink that began the meeting. Once that eighth link was in play, the conspiracy began in earnest, or at least continued in earnest.

For the head of Kleine Holdings, the power she wielded as the head of a multinational globalization conspiracy was nothing short of an adrenaline rush, the same manner of rush she routinely received while doing equestrian competitions. Only, this wasn't just a sport, this was the real deal: competition on a massive scale, with the intent of seizing not just a pot of prize money and a trophy, but steering a world, seizing a world.

The eight faces that appeared on the monitors around her were also devotees of the overarching goal, taking control of humanity and reigning it in, keeping control on it. Much as with the founders of the conspiracy back in the days of the National Socialists and Imperial Japanese, these ten persons intended to hold the world some day. They just had to overcome two large obstacles to the plan.

Two rankling obstacles.

The Soviets and the Multimages.

And now, the council of ten was down a man, and Amelia had the distinct displeasure of telling the group that not only were they down one, they had only a guess as to who did it or why.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the depleted 1634th meeting of the Council."

"Bin Fahad? What happened?" Pavel Krose asked bluntly, which saved Amelia some of the necessary introduction of the matter.

"Forced entry at his compound, wet-work team, we think no less than twenty of them. They killed everyone except what we believe is four unidentified persons being held sequestered in the basement of his compound. Bin Fahad was done at close range with a double-barrel shotgun, we believe ten-gauge. No chance he would have survived."

"Whose team?" Yanwe Londos the Fourth asked. Descended from one of the earliest conspirators, and sharing that conspirator's name, Yanwe was quick of temper but also quicker to show restraint. Juno Biotechnology was not the most stable company involved in the conspiracy, but it held its own where other groups had been ejected from the effort for insolvency.

"Given the pattern of kills and varying techniques, we suspect it was either a Soviet Spetsnaz team or a Multimage Operations Group," Amelia explained her take on the crime scene reports that had been funneled to her by the Retainer to Muhammad Bin Fahad. "One of the deceased was stabbed in the sides of his abdomen and electrocuted, a known technique used by both Special Operations Wizard groups."

"So, the armistice is broken," Hilde Gensee replied from her personal mansion in Germany. The new head of SchlossBank, she was easily shaping up to be one of the better conspirators in Amelia's mind.

"We have circumstantial evidence that points to the wetwork groups from both countries, but was this a deliberate act on their part, or something else? Killing a man with a car battery attached to pointed probes is not particularly difficult, it may not have been the Mages or the Soviets, let us not jump to conclusions," Saleh The Broker pointed out. He would find out after the fact that he had been dead-on-accurate, but the hype of finally being cut loose from the old armistice had momentum his wise words could not stop.

"Sounds like a cute diversion to me," Ricardo Gerone grumped from his penthouse suite in Bogota, Colombia. "Perfect way to disguise the attack, use probes instead of handprints like what Atrebas did to that SS Paranormal Officer back during the revolution." The death of the SS Paranormal Investigator Kari Teane was one of the more salacious tales of those heady days, and a picture-perfect demonstration of the lethality of a wizard when provoked. Needless to say, the few assassination attempts against Atrebas had been done from no less than a kilometer distance, and all had failed.

"We are getting ahead of ourselves. We should wait for the investigation to determine who did it, not simply accuse Atrebas or Pevlekov of breaking the rules," Mei Yaling chided her fellow conspirators. Yangtze Agricultural, her personal holding company, was one of the more prestigious of the conspirators for its sheer size and volume, even if Atrebas did know she was in on the conspiracy. The first time she had learned of his involvement was in his office, directly from him, though he had assured her that she would receive no hostile action if she took none. Ten years later, that promise still held true.

"And allow them to wax more of us? Atrebas knows all our names and locations, especially yours, Mei. If the gloves are off, I say we make the first moves," Rafael Unker said. He was the new and charismatic leader of an old conspiracy mainstay, Nova Chemical in Canada. His personal buying power was second only to Mei's, which meant they could purchase a significant swath of territory anywhere in the world if they were not already inclined to seize the whole world.

"And that is the big question for us all," Amelia said between sips of green tea. "Do we want to move forward immediately, or wait and see how this plays out? Your votes, please."

The voting took only a few seconds, as everyone had their answers in mind already. Five green, three red. Combined with Amelia's go-vote, the decision was a supermajority.

"Six votes to go, three to hold. I am sorry, Mei, but this is too suspicious to ignore, and if it is the Mages, we will find out who broke the rules and why once their government collapses," Kitty Vickers said. She was the head honcho for Smith-Leine Commercial, the traditional conspirator for the Oceania area, and the only lady of four in the conspiracy who wore a dress above size 7. Her smashing looks helped lure in customers while her immense brainpower helped drive her competition into the ground.

"You all have strategies for fomenting chaos and dissent. We will begin in Europe and Africa, and cascade the actions around the world on a timetable. Remember, no direct comms in the clear, always use the email function here on the secured system," Amelia said. "The gloves are off. If you can begin inroads against the Mages or the Soviets, do it."

"Good luck to us all," Ricardo said.

"Fortune smile upon us all," Mei said, even if she didn't agree with this course.

The eight monitors winked out in the space of three seconds, leaving Amelia with only one monitor to light her secured room.

"Is this too hasty, Walter?" Amelia asked her retainer.

"I believe it is post-due, the Mage has festered for four centuries too long," her retainer answered. "Still, Miss Yaling has the right of it. There is no hard evidence this was a Mage or Spetsnaz bust. If it is we who open the floodgates, and unduly infuriate the Multimages, we could be left hurting very quickly."

Walter's words would haunt their conspiracy in due time, but not for the reason he expected.

-x-x-x-

(4 August M.E. 428, 2100 Hours Lima (UTC+8))
(Qin family residence and storefront, Chonghe, southern China, Multimage Empire)
(Coords: 22°38'29.91"N, 107°52'30.57"E)

Yuuki and Lu had taken to the preparations with gusto, as had Shun and Reiko with slightly less energy. Even their father had pulled out his old uniforms and made sure they were presentable, given he thoroughly expected the world would go to Hades when word of this matter spread. Their personal requirements for the duty were significant but nothing particularly out of the ordinary, a list primarily of clothing, toiletries, basic housekeeping supplies, and disposables such as toilet paper or hygiene products. Quarters would be provided while the effort geared up, with the eventual expectation that people would expand outward into permanent quarters in due time.

The readiness date for the effort was listed as 1 October ME 428, almost two full months to ensure everything was in order and they had their personal effects squared away. Donations for community supplies and disposables were encouraged but not required; Manami and Lu Zhen had both made sure to donate a good palette of non-perishables from the storefront to help with the effort on the new world. The Shrine Maidens were not officially ready to receive donations this morning, but a shipping container was made available for the first of multiple donations.

Yang Avril had heard from Reiko that she had been selected for the offworld transfer, and thought it would be a lovely thing to do, visit new worlds, meet new and interesting people, maybe even sleep with a few? This morning, she had received an innocuous package from the Shrine Maidens, and upon opening it, knew she needed to speak to Reiko about it. So, much as she always did, Avril entered the downstairs screen door, went up the stairs, and knocked.

Manami answered the door, and wasn't totally surprised at who was knocking. "Avril! Come, Reiko is working on her preparations for her posting."

"That's what I am here to discuss, see where Reiko's posting is in relation to mine," Avril held up her posting paperwork and flicked it.

"You too, Avril!" Reiko hugged her friend as she approached the table. "How'd you do on the exam today?"

"88," Avril admitted. "You?"

"87," Reiko admitted. "Not as good as I expected, the Instructor didn't like the cut of my short essay."

"So we're safe for now, at least until we transfer out," Avril set her transfer paperwork down next to Reiko's. "Huh, same region, different groups."

"So we'll be close to each other, somewhat," Reiko said.

"Here," Avril set a map down on the table, which held the title 'map, region 3', and was subdivided into six zones with initial colony positions marked in each zone. "You're in Zone 1, I'm in Zone 4, so the distance between us would be," and she used the end of a pencil as a rough gauge on the measurement scale to determine: "85 kilometers. So, visiting each other would be a travel through forest areas, probably a day trip given the terrain."

"Nice map, we didn't get one in our packet," Yuuki said as the rest of the family gathered around the table to view it.

"What would be optimal is if the army sent in some of the ten-ton open-top light tracked carriers, or even the newer Sprinter Scout Cars that were just coming online before I signed up. You could easily go from city to city in a couple hours on either," Lu Zhen pointed out.

Another knock on the door presaged the arrival of more persons — two, in this case, Manami could tell — but Yuuki was the first to respond before Manami realized what she was sensing.

"Got it," Yuuki said as she bolted quickly from the table and over to the door. Yuuki opened the door in her usual energetic fashion, though once she saw who was waiting at the door, the late teen lady dropped her travel mug of water and used both hands to stifle a surprised yelp.

-x-

"Ohmygodohmygod! No way!" the teen that answered the door half-shouted through her fingers.

"This is unreal," one of the elder (early-twenties) guys around the table said.

The first cogent response from anyone in the household was from the head of the household, whom the two Mage officers were here to speak to. "Highness!" he said as he came to attention smartly. As he did, so did the others in the room come to attention, though a bit delayed.

"Captain Qin Lu Zhen," the staff officer with the Emperor prompted him. "Did you send this petition to the Emperor yesterday?" The document was waved in his direction and was clearly recognizable by the old Captain.

"Sir! Yes sir!" Lu Zhen answered immediately, since he recognized the paper in question.

"The Emperor and I would like to speak to your family at length about this matter," the staff officer said.

"Please come in, General, Highness," Lu Zhen said. "Shun," the elder Qin waved his eldest son out of the chair he was occupying. The lady of the house provided a second chair for the staff officer.

"Thank you for the hospitality on such short notice, Captain. I am General Rudelt Maximilian, project commander for the colonization effort," the staff officer identified himself, and waited for the Emperor to be seated before he took a seat himself.

"Is something amiss with my petition, General?" Lu Zhen asked as he took a seat opposite the table from the Emperor. The other family members and one guest crowded around the table, but were careful to be respectful of the Emperor's space.

"Only inasfar as your petition was based on incomplete information, Captain," Eric said, the first thing he had said since arriving in Chonghe. He presented a folder to Shun, who was sitting to the right of the Emperor and Rudelt. "Please pass this down to your father."

"Sir," Shun handed it down to Lu Zhen, who was quick to open it. The shock of what he was presented was evident quickly enough.

"Your packet was sent in an incomplete state, Captain. There never was an expectation that your family would be broken up by this request," General Rudelt explained. "The Shrine Maidens misplaced your transfer forms and application packets, a natural paperwork foul-up when handling millions of applications. I confirmed twice with my staffing troops that you are on the roster, as is your wife."

"Understood, General, Emperor," Lu Zhen said.

"Your petition is still valid, and if you so desire I can grant it, but know that you are not solely limited to four persons to head through to the new world. It is your option at this point where you shall serve," Eric Atrebas explained the matter of the petition.

"So, I was right. I will be recalled shortly, be it here or on the far side of the transfer," Lu Zhen said with significant gravity to voice.

"Hai, a great many persons will need to be recalled in coming months," General Rudelt nodded solemnly.

"A storm is already backbuilding over the world, Captain," Atrebas said in his common metaphorical fashion. "Before the end of the year, you will see open rebellion in multiple places, and only time shall tell when we are invested. I will need men, both here to hold the old world and hopefully correct the sins of the past, and upon the new world to ensure no reprisal succeeds in harming the new colonies."

"Atrebas-sama, I will go where you desire my resolve, but I have a question, if I may?" Lu Zhen requested.

"Hai, go ahead," Atrebas replied immediately.

"Should not such a post go to a younger officer? My utility to the new world would be engineering or defensive only, my contribution to the next generation sits before you," his wave encompassed all four of his children as well as their guest.

"A proper question, and rest assured the military force involved will have both younger troops and some long-service veterans, but I should remind you that age is a component of three matters: absolute age, physical age, mental age. One of those can be modified rather easily, and I believe your wife is rated as a Time Mage?" Atrebas pointed out the matter at hand.

It took a few seconds for the gist of the comment to sink in. "This is not discouraged, Highness?"

"It is a deeply personal choice, Captain Qin," Atrebas admitted. "It will be strenuous, both physically and mentally, but by the laws that govern us I cannot deny such a choice to you. Nor would I speak against it, when one considers that you have experience that would be extremely useful on either side of the matter." Atrebas sighed. "Speaking as a veteran of repeted age manipulations, it will be a system shock for you to drop age, but within a week you will be adjusted to it."

"This will require some introspection, Highness. Have never considered it."

"The two issues are not linked; you may remain or take the transfer, you may maintain your age as is now or may step back on the physical clock, both are valid options," Eric noted. "An answer is not needed tonight if you need time to decide, but if I may supplant this civilian map with a proper map of this zone?" Atrebas pointed to the map the guest lady had brought in.

"Here," the lady removed the map and her paperwork to provide a clean spot.

Atrebas extracted a more professional map from his portfolio and spread it out on the table. Lu Zhen immediately recognized it as a proper military map of the Region they were assigned to. It also had several locations marked that were not on the civilian map. "The present thinking is that we will need artillery to provide our first-strike defense against any kind of assault action, at least until we can begin providing garrison and militia forces for the involved areas, and heavy support after we have garrisons in place."

"Tube artillery doesn't have the range to cover everything, but rocket artillery could do double this footprint," Lu Zhen said. "Tube Artillery could cover these inner colonies in zones 3, 4, 5, assuming you're going to park a firebase on this hills area," the Captain pointed out the area where he'd site the artillery base. "Beyond that, you'd need to break up the artillery locations to three bases minimum to cover this entire area with 180mm tubes."

"That was my line of thinking," Rudelt said. "Maybe do a split formation, main base with rocket forces in the hills, and firebases farther out? What say you to commanding a battery again?"

Lu Zhen obviously had to think hard about the request, but the conclusion was inevitable as far as Atrebas could tell. "I will need to work back into it, General. Have been out of service for over two decades. And will need to see how my wife wishes to handle it. Is tomorrow a sufficient answer timeframe?"

Rudelt nodded and handed the senior Lu a contact card. "When you have decided, call this number, your report code and challenge word is on the back. You can provide your answer when you are comfortable with your choices. Final go / no-go is 20 September."

"Understood, sir, Highness. Thank you for responding quickly to my petition," Qin Lu Zhen said with gravity.

"Decisions of this scope are best made with proper understanding, Captain." Atrebas pointed out.

"And what of the rest of the world, highness?" the guest lady asked. Atrebas had seen her name by way of her paperwork, Yang Avril, and figured her a friend of one of the other family members.

"The storm that backbuilds over the world will begin directed at Southeast Asia, but its ravages and crises will land elsewhere," Atrebas assured her.

-x-x-x-

(Elsewhere in Existence…)

(Negaverse Star Empire: 680 years old)
(Planets held: 16)
(Aggregate Population: 110 Billion persons)
(Territory held on Negative Terra (Capital world): 100 percent)

(Exoplanet Candidate N1-305)

"This undergrowth may be some of the nastiest I have ever seen, m'queen," Lord Arene commented with some strain.

"And it is hell on the blades, I am beginning to wonder if we should use our magicked swords for this," Dark Knight Alita said with some gusto.

"Do it, switch to magicked blades," Queen Beryl ordered. "Two Dark Knights keep your support machine guns handy, remainder of team cut us a path. And everyone keep your eyes up and spells ready: something slew our team out here, I do not want to be victim to it, either."

Two of the Dark Knights drew the bolts back on their Vickers V34 Light Machine Guns, the remainder of the team sheathed their common parang machetes and switched to magic swords of various flavors. Queen Beryl had her own magicked sword at the ready, but she was not involved in clearing the growth away; hers was primarily for defense, and her spellcraft was on the tip of her tongue.

Lord Arene had personally financed the expedition to this planet, and supported them materially in the effort on landing. The planet was mostly jungle of a type not far removed from the jungle trees of Terra, but interspersed with the patches of jungle were large swaths — some were hundreds of acres — of some massive vine overgrowth. What those vines covered, and what purpose or nefarious secrets they held was still unknown. The highlands fortress from which the colonization effort was working had begun production of a rocket launch facility so they could truck in rockets and satellites to do geologic surveys, but that was still months into the future.

For today, they needed to find what remained of the team, and what fate they befell. The last known point of contact was in toward the center of this one patch of overgrowth, so…

The cutting continued in silence for an hour, and with it the group made significant progress toward the center of this 60-acre overgrowth patch. It was not until they started encountering large patches of vertical growth that a break in the matter came their way — and with it, a horrible understanding.

"There!" Lord Arene shouted after he chopped through a particularly dense patch of vines, which caused a trinket to drop to the ground.

"A magicked knife?" Dark Knight Lucette asked after the Lord picked it up.

"This belonged to the team second, Kyril Montrose. Damn good man."

"So if — "

"Found him," Arene brushed aside some more of the undergrowth, and thus was revealed the mostly-decayed body of the team second. "Poor sod must have been trying to flee."

"So, what got him?" Dark Knight Alita asked.

"We're about to find out," Dark Knight Morrigan pointed to the clearing of the vegetation into a passable walkway. After a few moments, the corridor led to a clearing that included the center of the overgrowth, where a massive flower remained closed up and surrounded by other massive flowers.

"This is about as shady as shit, m'queen," Lord Arene pointed out.

"Yeah, this could only be more blatant if the vegetation spelled out 'this is a trap' to highlight it," Dark Knight Lucette grumped.

"Trap or not, I doubt we will get answers by beating bush out here," Queen Beryl said with a perfectly straight face. Her impolitic phrasing caused some snickers amongst her troops.

"Two points for the Queen for the double entendre," Arene slipped the knife into its sheath, and removed the knife belt from the deceased team second for return to his family. "I will lead."

"Prepare your best spell works for destroying underbrush, all of you," Beryl ordered quietly. "If this is an encirclement, we will cut our way out magically."

Surprising to the crew of combat veterans, the growth did not try to collapse in on them, they were allowed passage into the open area where the flower stood guard over what appeared to be mostly-buried ruins of some kind? Beryl was intrigued by the possible contents of such a facility in an otherwise uninhabited world, but the flower came first.

Or, more appropriately, the flower made the first move. The large flower cup opened up and provided a ramp down to the ground for the occupant, a being constructed of plant material but built in the form of a gangly biped some three yards tall?

"That is different," Lucette said as it approached in a slow gait.

The plant being strode forward to a respectable distance and came to a stop. The being had eyes and a nose in its oblate oval head, but no mouth; which made Beryl wonder how it intended to parley. That answer came a moment later, as the shoulders of the being opened a bit. "This world is forbidden to all. Interlopers, turn back and never return, or you must share the fate of those who come before you," the being said in a wheezing voice.

The Queen stepped forward, convinced now that this was a sentry, not an ambush. "Who forbids this land?" Beryl asked in counter. "What powers would deny this history to Existence?"

The being of plant in front of them took a moment to understand the question, but did answer after considering it. "Life upon this world was exhausted eons ago to seal away the Eternal Darkness. We Great Flowers now stand guard over our masters' tombs, as was told to us by the Norns."

Beryl bowed to the flower guardian. The explanation provided was all the angle she needed to make a break, maybe even make peace with the guards? "Great Flower Guard, know that the Norns yet live and stand against the Eternal Darkness. I am Beryl Atrebas, commissioned of the Norns and in their service to prepare Existence for the coming of the final war, Ragnarok. We seek understanding of these lands, and understanding of what shall await us in the final battle."

The look of surprise on the Great Flower Guardian was significant, easily recognizable to the group, but it was short-lived. "What proof do you hold of your claim?" the sentient plant asked.

Beryl considered her options, then remembered the invisible ring on her right hand given to her by one of the Norns in centuries past. The ring was not overlong in revealing itself after Beryl stripped it off and held it out to the Guardian. "This ring was provided to me by one of their rank."

The sentient plant took possession of the ring gingerly, and examined it at length. A couple sniffs sealed the deal. "This metal is of their world, of their manufacture. Its character is known to we Guardians, and the power enshrined within beckons memories of that fateful day. If you are truly commissioned of them, what is your purpose?" This time, the speech was not wheezy, but deeper, more focused and powerful.

"The family Atrebas is commissioned to ensure something survives the impossible war. Ten of the bloodline stand against the Eternal Darkness, and we have understood: Existence is more vast than even the Darkness. We intend to expand, to grow to such a degree that the shadows of the past simply break their teeth on the future we shall build."

The plant was again surprised by the answer, but after a minute simply nodded slowly. "A network of roots so vast they cannot be consumed by the Darkness. I will communicate with the Elder Guardians of your tale. Return on the edge of the great light coming over the mountain, and we shall discuss the judgment of the Elders."

A week hence (Terran time), Beryl would have her answer.

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Author's Chapter Afterword:

So begins the second round, and herein you will start seeing a more diversified array of crossover elements as the MMC heads toward the inevitable war between the Star Empires.

The big takeaway from this chapter is that the detente between the Multimage and the Conspiracy has been torpedoed by a mercenary crew, not by any conscious action of the Mages. Of course, those who think they are entitled to the control of the world and the masses who live on that world, they will not see such fine distinctions as 'whodunit' to be a crippling matter for their overarching intention. Quite literally, they have been fiending for an excuse to kick off the attempted destruction of the Soviet Union and the Multimage Empire; what they will shortly find is that they are asking for a lot more death and destruction than they ever imagined possible.

A critical factor here is not simply the overarching will of the Conspiracists, it is the will of the people. In the 400 years since the Multimage Revolution and the dissolution of the Imperial Japanese and National Socialists, life has not changed much for the people of the world — except for a few critical areas, the largest base of the world's population are still subsistence farmers or related agricultural workers. Industry still clings to the older models of large amounts of manual (human) labor, given it is more cost-efficient than automation and the planetary population being as massive as it is (will be covered in the next chapter), labor is cheap and available.

Simply stated, the people of the world want different. Well, they'll get a different model when the Mages begin the inevitable outward expansion to other worlds, and with it the social and political dynamic will change in ways completely impossible to counteract. One of the biggest drivers of scarcity is and always will be space on any given planet, but once that factor of the equation is neutralized, the game will necessarily change. People will voluntarily expand outward, onto new worlds, learn new ways to do things, which reduces the labor pool in any given geographic area. Scarcity of land disappears, which drives down those costs. Scarcity of labor increases as populations spread out, making automation more appealing. Increasing automation reduces the labor demand for any given task, which frees population up for other pursuits. Soon enough, economic, informational, research, and military concerns become larger drivers than simple agricultural or industrial factors.

The rest of the world has not properly examined the consequences of opening this particular Pandora's Box. Atrebas, on the other hand, is gambling on the results of busting the lock and kicking the lid open.

All that remains is to see what is inside.

On a writing note, I prepared this chapter before I had some side-material set up for the end of the first Set. I have two side stories in the works, Bridge Over The River Amur and Training Scenarios (tentative title). The first story is the story of how the bridge between the Multimage Amur River Academy and the Soviet Amur River Academy was built, the why of the building of a bridge, and the resulting increase in friendship between the Soviets and the Mages. I don't expect this story to be a multi-chapter affair, it'll just be somewhere between 15 and 25K as a one-shot story. The second story, which I am sort-of considering alternate names, will be a multi-chapter affair covering four of the OCs in my story and their adventures in relationships, vacationing, and pursuit of personal goals. It will also tackle several looming social issues that will come back to haunt the Mages for centuries to come. All's well that ends, though, and the resolution of these social questions will make the nation stronger for it.

That's it for my wordcrafting for a day. NEXT UP: The Magi begin their campaign to expand to a new world at the same time the global conspiracy kicks off their campaign of rebellion and sabotage. Something's gotta give, but the bending won't be in the places the powers that be expect it to bend.

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Review Replies:

No reviews for the story yet, any feedback is welcomed!

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The Gripe Sheet:

No complaints so far. Much thanks to Necroblade, Takeshi Yamato, and Sieben Nightwing for keeping my writing straight!

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Footnotes:

No footnotes for this chapter.

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Included Works:

Battletech (game): the first iterations of battletech technology are starting to show up in the story, namely the Aerofighters. This will expand to a degree, but the first truly major forays into battlemech technology (the hallmark of Battletech as a series) will not be until after this Section.

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Spell Registry:

No new spellcraft has been exhibited so far. That will change to a significant degree, though, in coming chapters.