You are Tysia Naghama ci Iwaka, a former commodore in the now defunct Naran Space Navy. Your world has just been ripped out from under you by the nations of the moon Bli. Angry and desperate, you respond to an offer to join the Ceni Six Corporation in the hopes that you’ll get the chance to make a difference—a difference on an orbital scale.
::Nara, Iwaka Island
The end. Who knew it was possible to wipe out an entire civilization through diplomacy?
In disgust, I walked away from the digital screen showing the representatives of Bli and Nara respectfully bowing to each other after signing the Treaty of Kraskae. I flung open the doors to my home’s balcony, and hurriedly stepped outside.
A steady wind was blowing a thick mist from the shallow, azure ocean into the jungle-covered mountains where my village was situated. The sun pierced the aqua-colored sky, and God’s blue majesty peeked over the horizon. It was beautiful. Every day, it was beautiful.
But the serenity of the scene did not calm me. I was flushed with anger: its beauty would soon be destroyed. I took my eyes away from the ocean, and looked to the moon hanging above the mountains.
Bli. They now owned my world. The ocean. The beaches. The jungles. The people.
Me.
Their subjugation was a slow, gradual process. It started right after first contact, all those years ago. They were far beyond us: we had barely started shooting satellites into orbit when their capsule landed in our ocean. Not long after, we began relying on them for everything. Space travel. Technology. Economic stability. The list was extensive.
But we still retained our culture and integrity as a people. For a time.
Six months ago was the start of the Thiian-Esk war. The Naran leaders were shaking in their boots, predicting a swift Thiian victory, and subsequently, a new war for conquest declared on us. They wanted protection. Again, they looked to the nations of Bli.
They were quick to accept.
Now, we rely on them for our safety—but it came at a cost: our independence.
Damn them all.
I turned my back on the Naran landscape, and returned inside. I grabbed a cold, potent drink, and sat. What else was there to do? The Naran Space Navy was officially dissolved—I had no employment. And though the offer was extended to me, I would have rather went to hell than become a part of Bli’s military. Unless…
Suddenly, my motivation was sparked. I switched on my tablet computer, and browsed through my messages. Two weeks ago, I had received a communiqué from an unidentified sender, saying only to contact a specified number after the Treaty of Kraskae was signed. I laughed at it then. But now I was curious—and desperate.
I routed the number to my home’s com system, and waited for a connection to establish. The computer screen noted that the call was being routed to Ujionla, an uninhabitable desert moon—strange.
There was a click. A male voice followed: “Yes?” The language was standard Naran.
I cleared my throat, and replied: “I received a rather…
cryptic message telling me to call this number after the treaty was signed. I’d like to know why.”
“Depends who’s asking,” the man said apathetically.
“Former Commodore Tysia Naghama ci Iwaka.”
There was a short pause. “Ah, yes,” the man replied. “Well,
Former Commodore, how would you like to repeal the first portion of your title?”
“Depends,” I said in a tone of mock-apathy.
Another pause. “You’ve heard of Ceni Six, correct?”
“Of course,” I responded. “Anyone who opposes the governments of Bli has my attention.”
“That’s good to hear. We’ve got a lot of
interesting things lined up for the next few months. Interested?”
“Very,” I stated truthfully.
“Then head to Ujionla as soon as you can. I’d say more, but, even though this is a secured channel, there are… ways of getting past that.”
“I understand.” I glanced at the computer screen—three failed intrusion attempts. No way to be certain if a fourth attempt was successful for not. I had to chuckle—apparently I was deemed enough of a threat already to have my communications monitored. I was almost flattered.
“Then we’ll be expecting you. We’ll forward all necessary information your way shortly. C-Six fleet command out.”
The com went dead.
Ceni Six was a corporation that originated from Bli—they hated their government with such a passion that they moved all of their operations to Ujionla to escape rigorous taxes and regulations. They were also very sympathetic to Nara’s plight, funding those who opposed the treaty. Though I half-understood it might just be a delusion, I had high hopes. I would get to command again—and that notion was enough to warrant a look.