StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Co-authored with Eris, and based on a concept developed with the aide of my dear friend Alexia, I present a journey into the fantasy of another world, and another time.

Please, understand that the opinions and prejudices herein are those of the period that we seek to capture, and not of the authors ourselves... And do enjoy.

....Chapter One:
(unfinished and in the rough—expect an update later)


The North German Lloyd liner Prinz Eitel Friedrich, some two weeks out of Bombay, had been approaching the Sunda Strait on her run in to Jakarta, the next stop before proceeding north to China and her final destination of the German Pearl of the Orient, the great fortress and commercial city of Tsingtao, torn from Chinese hands by the Kaiser in the aftermath of the Sino-Japanese War settlements. The Sunda Strait was an appropriately famous place to be, though she had not quite reached it. After all, thirty-one years ago that Strait had exploded with fire and stone from the sky like the very end of the world as the volcano of Krakatoa had torn itself to pieces. Several ships nearby had miraculously survived. Thirty thousand natives and a hundred of their Dutch overlords had been less fortunate on land, and for that matter so had an anchored gunboat tossed a dozen kilometers inland with its whole crew killed.

It had certainly been the scene of other events of some greater antiquity. Perhaps the Dutch would have been wise to remember the legends of East Amazonia, their ostensible rival (suitably, to the east) for control of Southeast Asia. Among the religious texts of their bizarre, Kalist form of Hinduism was a story of how an eruption in the Strait had held back the tide of Muslim conquest for some time, giving them more opportunity to escape to the distant shores of what most of the west called Australia, and the inhabitants themselves preferred to call Sahul. Nine years later, however, what the Germans respectfully called the Kaetjhastreich and what the British arrogantly called the Rajate of Kætjhasti, had taken to proving themselves the better of the Netherlands Army and Royal Netherlands Navy.

The dispute had been based around an obscure effort by the Dutch in 1828 to claim a border across the whole of the Papuan Peninsula at 141 degrees east. They had not followed up this claim with any effectual attempt at control until 1883, when they had put an iron plaque on the meridian and gone away again. They tried to intimate the Kætjhastian cities of the southern shore of the great peninsula, however, where the rice permaculture was as thoroughly developed as in Indonesia itself. They had nothing of it, and the small groups of Dutch, easily sickened by malarial fever, were driven back by the massed fire, if disorganized, of matchlocks and flintlocks, ironically originally sold to their ancestors by the enterprising merchants of the 1640s and 1650s in these areas when contact with the Empire of Yashovati the First had been made.

Yashovati was of course a woman's name, a fact which would not surprise the curious any longer. Of the whole nation which called itself the Empire of Kætjhasti, it was thought that more than thirty-five millions were women of the distinct sub-race of homo sapiens referred to in the textbooks of the era as homo sapiens australis. A bland name for the scientifically troubling example of women who parthenogenically gave birth to clones of themselves, and had done so for more than four hundred years quite successfully, as the best corroboration of the records of the Chinese Imperial Court and the early western explorers of the area had proved able to suggest. Boasting in turn the power to govern some fifteen millions of uninfected (for it had been proved after contamination by a dye plant of water with Sulfa compounds in the southern Sahul city of Sahmunapura which had rendered 1,500 women sterile that their reproduction depended on a bacterial infestation) men and women, though certainly lesser races all, the Empire of Yashovati, ruled ably by heirs which were identical to her in mind and body, had proved more than able to slavishly imitate every western killing art.

Her heirs no longer ruled the Empire directly. Not having proved efficient enough at adapting to modern technology, after the utter humiliation of the Yulara Incident in 1886 with the British Empire, where their camelry patrols had driven off Kætjhastian prospectors and forcibly annexed the potentially valuable region to their West Australia colony, the nation had fallen in 1889 to an internal coup by a group of young Brigadiers who had imposed on the Empress the Bayonet Constitution of that year. Eighteen months later, they were at war with the Netherlands, which detached a strong landing force to garrison the 141st Meridian while marching troops to subdue the southern Papuan cities. The cities, with their immense stone walls built centuries before to protect against Muslim raids, resisted ably while the tropical diseases of malarial fever and breakbone fever wore down the troops. The army, though unready, was sent in enmasse, and soon the Dutch were hard pressed, their enemy, regardless of their newly constitutional status, fighting under the reverent cry of Rayæti Råhiranya!--Hail the Empress who is the Sun!--declaring their Sovereign to be the incarnation of the feminine aspect of Surya, a belief still fervently held by the superstitious population, or so the European line went, regardless of the fact that they were as proficient in the loading and firing drill for a Gras rifle as anyone else born of this earth, women or not.

The Dutch had reacted as best they were able, mustering at Jakarta a powerful fleet of six armoured linenschiff, four old armoured rams, an 7,700 ton turret ship, and a smaller broadside ironclad, all quite obsolete by the standards of 1890, but certainly enough against Kætjhasti when supported by six cruisers and numerous gunboats. The Royal Kætjhasti Navy, tracing its lineage to the Star Rafts the pre-infection peoples had built in copy of the treasure fleets of Zheng He, was however a rather more impressive force. Matching the Dutch turret ship with a larger one, armed with breach-loading rifles and quick-firing light guns, nine lesser and older armoured ships supported her, five iron hulled, and four wooden hulled. This fleet was covered by two big iron cruisers and six old wooden steam frigates, but most importantly, two small but fast protected cruisers just commissioned and built in Italian yards, with forced draught to their boilers which could deliver almost eighteen knots and an armament of all quick-firing guns. The Dutch Admiral, aware of his inferiority, had resolved to attack the Kætjhasti fleet after it had made a daring circumnavigation of Papua (or Sahul Minor) and arrived at the port city of Lajhama on the Gulf of Van Diemen to the northwest of Sahul Major. While the fleet was replenishing, the Dutch arrived, but their own attempt to maintain surprise was lost when they bombarded the lighthouse at the Rijond Point on Bathurst Island: It was connected to the mainland by telegraph, and served to provide the fleet warning from one hundred and fifteen kilometres out.

Issuing forth from Lajhama harbour while the Dutch rushed through the Gulf to attack in some disorder, seeking to close and ram as the Austrians had at Lissa, the two modern Italian cruisers of the RKN's fleet opened up with a vigorous and immediate fusillade of their quick-firing guns which had driven the Dutch back in some disorder, buying precious time for the Kætjhastian fleet to form line and pound the Dutch from a distance while the Italian-built cruisers, rushing in at full speed and operating separate from the battle line, launched a series of attacks with QF gun and torpedo. The Dutch could never restore order, and retired in disarray, with the harrying pursuit of the RKN ultimately claiming two ships. The red hakenkreuze was victorious and the blockade of southern Papua was sustained. The Dutch armies, wanting in ammunition and ravaged by fever, surrendered, and by this war, the Kætjhastreich had gained the respect of the Kaiser.

Now the Prinz Eitel Friedrich would be headed to that very same port of Lajhama, the Captain of the liner realized with abrupt decision. They were a civilized enough people, after all, enough for him to trust the safety of his passengers there, and there was a huge German expatriate colony in the capitol of Kænahra, operating the innumerable industries of the modern state, including the largest armament factory in the Pacific Rim, Krupp Kaenahraischeswerken. More to the point, it was very much the unexpected destination. And unexpected was what the Captain of that innocent North German Lloyd liner desperately needed. There were two British cruisers waiting for him in the Sunda Strait, the Dutch freighter Kroonland had informed him as a courtesy. A courtesy that was needed because five days prior, a British ultimatum to the German Reich had expired following his country's invasion of Belgium. The calendar at the back of the chartroom gave the day's date: 10 August, 1914 AD.

The Captain returned to his bridge, and mindful of the fact that he ought preserve the Prinz Eitel Friedrich, pierced as a hilfkreuzer, for the future service of the Reich, gave the necessary orders to execute his gambit as he had just worked out on the charts. “Course Two Six Seven True!”

“Course Two Six Seven True, Aye!” The great brass-wound oaken wheel of the Prinz Eitel Friedrich was put hard to starboard, the rudder angle indicator lagging as always by two degrees as the vast structure of steel below their feet thrummed with power and shuddered against the waves, heeding the change in course.

The Second Officer had the watch, and he stepped forward in eager curiousity. “We're going to make a run for it, Herr Kapitän?”

“Jawohl, Joachim. What else should we do? Let the ship go under the hammer at a British prize court?”

Joachim grinned. “Sir.”

“Engines, ahead flank!”

“Engines, ahead flank!” The crewer at the engine telegraph answered obediently, and shoved down the beautifully worked bronze lever, ringing the bells in the engine room which demanded more speed. Immediately, with that crisp German efficiency, the boiler pressure was increased by heat, the effort of the black gangs redoubled, and the two massive reciprocating triple expansion engines churned harder against the twin shafts, screws biting the water as sixteen thousand tonnes of steel began to surge forward coming out of the turn east.

“To Lajhama, Herr Kapitän?”

“To Lajhama, Joachim.” A moment's thought later: “Go to the wireless room and tell them to shut down. Pull out the plugs if you have to. I don't want the Britishers having one inkling of where we are. There's a lot of ocean between here and Lajhama, and we need all the head start we can get.”

“Jawohl, Herr Kapitän!”


*********** ************************** **************


Everyone aboard the fleeing liner tried to carry on as normal despite the siren call of war lurking in every single conversation and every wild innuendo of rumour and guess. At her design speed of 15 nautical miles to the hour the Prinz Eitel Friedrich was at least reasonably stable without much of a seaway and it was not all that uncomfortable in the hot tropical evening. They were below the equator, but close enough to it that it might as well be summer rather than a southern winter, but the punkah fans in the dining room and the airiness of the design kept the heat to tolerable levels, and all the drinks were served with ice on request.

Aboard the liner, unique in being a young woman of twenty-seven and recently married, but more uniquely in traveling without an escort, was Maria Anneliese Kathrin Freiin von Salmuth, called Mitzi by her family and possessing a thin build and to the day rather unattractive stick figure, though with pretty light brown hair and blue eyes. She was traveling alone, indeed, but for a very good reason. Her husband was a freshly minted Hauptmann in the Tsingtao garrison troop, and she had been journeying to that most German of Chinese cities to join him for the duration of his foreign tour. Now that romantic adventure seemed gravely in doubt.

It was the last seating of the night when the Captain--Andras Otto Schneider by name--arrived looking a bit haggard, and headed over to the main table, slightly raised, in the first-class dining room. It happened to have been where Mitzi was sitting, and had otherwise four couples at it engaged in rather nervous conversation. The Captain settled in at the far end of the table and spoke up loudly enough for all in the dining room--which had tended to fall silent as he arrived--to hear him, even as he glanced at the menu and resisted the impulse to tug on his fine black beard.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I've made the decision to divert to the Kætjhasti port of Lajhama, which for those who do not know is at the western edge of the Van Diemen Gulf. I understand that the gulf is well patrolled and the approaches are defended by fortifications with twenty-eight centimeter disappearing rifles, so we're likely to encounter Kætjhasti neutrality patrols beforehand which will give us some security, and we're aiming to hopefully sight land at Bathurst Island to the northwest of Lajhama. We have the fuel left to maintain fifteen knots for the whole journey, and British patrols from Perth are unlikely to be this far north. We've already made more than three hundred and fifty nautical miles in the past twenty-four hours and the engines are holding up well. If the speed has left anyone uncomfortable, I apologize; but my first duty is to keep the ship out of British hands at the moment.

"I also hope that the decision to make for Kætjhasti rather than the more obvious Dutch East Indies ports is not frowned upon. I chose to do so precisely because the British will not be expecting it. I know there's many ladies of refinement aboard and families who may find an extended stay in the Empire of the Maharani to be unpleasant, but we have excellent relations with them, and there is an American liner service to Los Angeles for those who would rather not travel about Kætjhasti Pacifica Lines to return home, insofar as neutral shipping is concerned. They are, at any rate, a very disciplined and methodical people, and good friends of the Reich. We could do far worse at the moment, including being caught by the Royal Navy."

The soft murmur of voices reappeared in the wake of the captain's announcement, although now lacking both the lighter air that had earlier marked the dinner conversation of the ship and the more recent frantic effort at distraction as a strident tone now entered the proceedings. Speculation bred rumour, after all, leaving the captain to answer the few questions as best he was able, despite probably trying his best to remain quiet about that what he knew of the outside world. He did not want to cause a panic among his passengers, even if there was in fact plenty of reason to panic.

Contemplatively, Mitzi retrieved her fork from where it lay and speared a dumpling. She was a fair bit disappointed they had not simply continued to Tsingtao. China was hardly friendly with the British, and it would take weeks at least to get back in touch with home and somehow sort out where she was going to end up. Of course, if the route to Tsingtao was permanently closed, that did open up the possibility of taking the liner to Los Angeles and taking a train across the United States and staying a while in New York, or Boston. It wasn't China to be sure, but Americans she wagered could probably be wild enough to at least approximate exotic.

"Frau von Salmuth," Captain Schneider spoke up softly. "Considering your unfortunate status, having been traveling to meet your husband in Tsingtao, you ought have a chance to be in touch with him. I apologize, then, that in the interest of preserving the ship for her owners, I've ordered the wireless shut down. However, the telegraph connections to China and Germany should still be available through Lajhama, as they don't traverse German territory. I'll arrange for the purser to pay any fees for such telegrams as you wish to send on arrival." He paused for a moment as his food arrived, but respectfully declined to eat for a moment longer as he continued, "for those unaccompanied younger ladies aboard, yourself included, I intend for the Third Officer, Johann Mueller, and Lieutenant Schelding of the Saxon Army--who volunteered--to provide you an escort and for first-class private compartment accommodations to be made on the overnight express to Kænahra, where the sizable German community means you should be quite comfortable until you can make the appropriate travel arrangements back home. The journey takes about thirty-six hours, and we'll try to clear customs as rapidly as possible."

Putting aside her food again, Mitzi gave a wan smile. "That is very kind of you, Captain. I am very grateful for your generosity." Where was Kænahra anyhow? The world outside of Potsdam was something of a blurry haze beyond the most general of details - she wasn't even quite sure if the overnight express was by train or ship, although Schneider had implied the former. At least communication, locally and otherwise, would not be a problem. Although, she hesitated to think how the Kætjhasti must speak German. Bavarians were bad enough. She turned back to the captain, tearing his attention away from where it had drifted, talking to one of the men higher up the table. "Is Tsingtao cut off then, even to neutral shipping?" If it were the case, and the British controlled just about every pass to the West, she might have to end up sailing to America after all. She carefully stifled her smile. It certainly didn't do to spoil the gravity of the situation.

"I am not precisely sure, Frau von Salmuth," Captain Schneider answered. "The Pacific Squadron is strong, and the British have only a single light battleship and a single armoured cruiser on station by the last reports of Jane's that I had perused in Bombay before our late departure, so I don't think they can effectively blockade it. It has been a long time since my naval service, however," he was like many merchant officers a retired navy officer, "and the British will certainly rush in reinforcements. Neutral shipping, though, particularly American, should remain unaffected. The primary concern--and I understand well that you're worried for your husband's safety--would be if the Empire of the Mikado enters the war. Japanese involvement would surely bring about a blockade of the city, though we may hope that the Chinese prove able, and willing, to defend the neutral of their territory, which would prevent an attack on the city by land."

It was hard to see why the Japanese would go to war for Mitzi, but then again, she still wasn't clear why most of Europe was mobilising yet. It did not bode well, though, if they did. China had spent years now showing off just how well it could defend their territory against the vulture heirs to the British East India Company. Of course, the Japanese were no Royal Navy, but nor were they in the mess that China was. She decided not to ask if the Japanese were planning to go to war, or already had, guessing that she wouldn't get an answer even if she did ask. "Thank you very much for your consideration, Captain Schneider." She placed her cutlery down again, this time with a finality punctuated by discarding her napkin. Standing up and making polite excuses, she drifted from the dining room out onto the ship's deck.

The evening heat in the tropics was still apparent, muggy and a bit suffocating, but they were far enough from land that the jungle scents did not reach the ship, just the salt air, and the speed of the ship helped with the mugginess. Traveling along at 15 nautical miles to the hour, she was making good time, and the air felt much better on deck than where the fans of the ship worked inside as best as they could. The sun was setting, though just beginning to, starting to settle behind the ship in an enormous and multicoloured ball of orange and crimson as the few drifting clouds were turned a thousand brilliant colours and the burning intensity of the sun played out on the water. The trail of smoke from the coal-fired engines was lifted high enough by the funnels to keep the deck pristine, but trailing aft of the ship with little breeze in the air, lent a smokey tint to the atmosphere, as the shadows pointed at sharp angles, and backlit, the ship plunged forward through the furthest eastern reaches of the Indian Ocean. Ahead lurked the continent of Australia, a place truly so far from civilization that the Ten Commandments might as well not apply, though they'd managed their own strange brand of order and sophistication, to the amazement still of many in Europe.


************** ********************************* ****************


Things had gotten tense on the Prinz Eitel Friedrich. For two more days and three nights they'd cruised onward, after the Captain's speech. A day after that, in turn, had now come to pass smoothly enough, but later in the morning the passengers had cause to be frantic and worried, for off on the horizon there was smoke, and it was trailing them, coming up from the south on an intercepting course. Responding gamely, Captain Schneider had altered his course a bit in turn, shaping for the eastern part of Bathurst Island instead of the western part, to make the eastern approach channel to the Van Diemen Gulf. The effort of the black gangs was redoubled in one more effort. Steaming as hard as they had been, compared with the prior leisurely eastern cruise, they had eaten away some twenty-five hundred kilometres of sea toward their destination, and had very few to go, though they were almost out of coal. That concern was minor in comparison to what the smoke might well herald, and the constraints of trigonometry recommended the change in heading to keep as much distance between them and what might be an enemy as could be had.

About three hours on, the smoke smudges had leveled off into a stern chase, by which point the masts have the ship had been sighted, and twirling around the passengers were the frightful rumours that she was a Pearl class protected cruiser of the Royal Navy's West Australia Station. The rumours were in fact accurate, and HMS Philomel was game for the chace, her old engines straining as close as they could toward their old design output of four thousand horsepower, elderly bow slicing apart the tropical waters of the Timor Sea. The constraints of mathematics had been against her as well from the moment of the course change, and Philomel's captain might curse his luck and remember the old adage that the stern chase was the long chase.

Captain Schneider was, ironically, less worried by the chance of Philomel overhauling them than anything else; only by forced draught to the boilers had the Pearls made 19kts, but that had been almost twenty years ago, when new. Straining all out, she was like as not to make more than a knot on the Prinz Eitel Friedrich by this point. Another four hours later, around 1600 hours, a far more enthusiastic sight loomed ahead of them. It was land, Bathurst island, just coming into view at a distance of perhaps fifty kilometers from the foretop of the ship out of a slight haze. It was a beautiful site to all, though the experienced tropical sailors had smelt it in the morning, so distinct from the crisp salt breeze of the deep ocean over the Java Trench.

If they could cover that distance before the British brought their guns in range, they would be inside the three mile limit, and thus safe from the Britishers overhauling them. It ought only take two hours to achieve, too, whereas the cruiser behind them, still a solid twenty-five or more kilometers off, had guns of a range of only nine kilometers (or so Fregattenkapitän Mulhausen had assured him). It would take her, if Mulhausen was right, and Captain Schneider with him--and the captain didn't share his suspicions, or hopes, with anyone--far, far to long to bring the Prinz Eitel Friedrich into range. Even if she was making nineteen knots, they might not be able to do it, though the ship would have to surrender if they did. But the real concern was if the powerful and arrogant British Empire would actually stop its pursuit when the liner crossed the three mile limit, as it was nominally obligated to do, or if they would maintain a grandiosely proclaimed 'hot pursuit', in which case they would have to hope for help from the strange inhabitants of the Kætjhastreich.

The fœtid smell of the jungles of Bathurst Island was most assuredly as sickeningly sweet of one as could be imagined, the rotting masses of jungle growth sometimes washed far out to sea by storms, and certainly the smell was what had informed the old salts in the crew of their approaching land. The island was, however, fairly cultivated, having once been heavily covered in rice permaculture, a feature that was only gradually returning as Lajhama, once an abandoned ghost-city overtaken by vines and trees, was restored to life with the Empire having moved back into it in numbers more than a century before. Now it had gradually become prosperous and industrialized, leading to more and more settlers in places like Bathurst Island, dispersing the small uninfected remnant populations with the masses of infected women from the Imperial core. Most on the ship did not know those points of history, though certainly a few did, but the more pertinent point was that the island offered safety, and plenty of safety at that, if the British would simply respect international law.

That was rather the challenge, and so for the next two hours they steamed on in some considerable tension. By the time they reached the three mile limit, the tension had tended to vanish, however: The cruiser was still a solid twenty kilometers behind them, and therefore, eleven out of range. She did not seem to slow, however, so Captain Schneider maintained 15kts while the helm was ordered to “Two Seven Six True!” and the rudder angle indicator showed the progression of their turn to port. Below decks the strain was certainly beginning to show on the reciprocating engines of the liner to the point of serious problems, so the rush he had her make for the Rijond point which defined the north-eastern edge of the island revealed his own concern about continued British pursuit. Here, where the monsoons came rolling in off the Indian ocean, the island was overgrown with jungle and seemed thoroughly uninhabitable, save for the beautiful beaches which stretched out between great rocky points and occasional places where small rivers came down to the sea and the mangroves reached the water's edge. It was as far from Germany as one might imagine, but on one of the promontories ahead there was now looming up the visage of a lighthouse, the first sign of civilization in these strange lands.

There was soon some activity to go along with the sight. Since the British had certainly sighted them, keeping the wireless off was pointless, and there was apparently a station for life-saving purposes by the lighthouse on the point. Some rapid communications were silently exchanged between the two ships, and observing from the great tower of the lighthouse the approach of the British cruiser, a message was fired off to the RKN headquarters at Lajhama, still in a bit of chaos as it prepared for the necessary neutrality patrols. One was certainly in order at the moment, but the only craft that could be dispatched would be a submarine of the U-9 class which had been returning from a patrol in the Arafura Sea.

It was a German design, in fact, built in Kiel, and so the commander, on receiving the orders, made sure to prominently fly not only the naval jack from the fantail but three very large copies of the national flag, left-handed hakenkreuze in stylized red so prominent in the canton. It took an hour for the Rhi-19, as the submarine was designated, to sight the liner. For their part, the submarine proved to distant for the people on the deck of the Prinz Eitel Friedrich to get a very good look of the crew, short of binoculars, which a few of the men had, and prompted a few muttered remarks quieted down for the sake of the nearby ladies. She nonetheless did her job, standing in to interpose between the cruiser and the liner, now only a daring three kilometres out of gun range. A furious exchange by signal lamp followed, and the Philomel reluctantly turned away and pulled back out to sea, to the relief of all around. Her gasoline engines labouring, the submarine, deck gun manned and an officer in the conning tower, gradually pulled closer as an escort, while the Prinz Eitel Friedrich slowed to ten knots to avoid an engineering casualty and proceeded into the Van Diemen Gulf.

It was about a hundred kilometers by sea to Lajhama, and she'd cover the distance in about six or seven hours, which meant an unseasonably late arrival of two or three AM. The lights of the city served to impress everyone as they drew closer, however: Kætjhasti had taken to electricity quickly, eagerly, and aggressively, and as they approached, both the haze of the smoke from the factories and the brilliance of the electric lights could be seen clearly long into the night, until most f the lights dimmed down quite late, but by then only the watch of the Prinz Eitel Friedrich remained awake to see for the most part. Everyone was quite relieved, and congratulating themselves on what was felt to be a truly narrow and miraculous escape from British internment.

Sleep would certainly be very peaceful that night for all, though the captain dutifully remembered over a late dinner to renew his offer to Mitzi of having telegrams sent out, and indeed, right that moment by wireless to the Lajhama station. The next day dawned with breakfast being served in the usual fashion aboard the ship, while customs inspectors from the gendarmerie came out from the shore. Speaking intelligible but bad German--they sounded like Viennese, except worse, to the Potsdam ear--the two women who came aboard to meet Captain Schneider were both about five feet tall and wore glasses; their long straight black hair was drawn back in pony tails and kepi of the Austrian style were on the heads, their uniforms a smart olive with fine brasswork and white gloves on their hands--and surgical masks on their faces. Ethnically they appeared to be Chinese, and not the fine stock of the north infused with the blood of the higher Manchu race, but of long Cantonese descent. They inquired sharply into the details of the ship's prior passage to the officers, and after consulting both some of their own records of world disease outbreaks, and the ship's official logbook, concluded that a quarantine was not in order, the word of which proved to the relief of all aboard. Removing the masks, and with smiles all around, they returned to their launch and went back ashore.

The rest of the day was a bustle of activity visible on the shore. Several older protected cruisers and unprotected cruisers were preparing to leave Lajhama fleet base on neutrality patrols, and a cluster of low-slung torpedo boats, the main defence of the area, was clustered at pier, as were a few submarines, including the Rhi-19 that had escorted them back. There were countless small sampans in the harbour bustling around to the sundry merchant ships there, some of which were of course British, some Dutch, a few French and even a small bark crisply flying the flag of Siam, as well as a couple of American ships. They were a fine mixture of a few modern steamers and more old steamers and countless windjammers and big schooners which still made up the trade of the world, and even some of the huge but awkward junks of the Chinese Star Raft style, still in use for bulk cargo in Kætjhasti, though boasting modern schooner rigs. Hovering around them all were countless lighters and several modern steam tugs kept dashing to and fro, guiding ships out of the long wooden piers as they were cleared to leave, and then helping the next in line for an open quay in from the roadsted to dock, while small steam tank engines shoved lines of cars out along the wharfs for the cranes to load, or offload to the waiting ships.

The German Consul came to visit next, of course, a local merchant in his straw hat and suit who was paid by the Foreign Ministry to handle affairs here, and he promptly went to speak in private with the Captain for a while and then left after answering a few questions, his desire to return ashore and make arrangements rather clear. It was later passed to the passengers that it would take some time for the government to arrange and pay for accommodations for all of them, and so the ship could only disembark the next day. Dinner would be served onboard that night, and breakfast the following morning, and that gave everyone plenty of time to retreat into the ship for iced drinks, or the braver, to remain on deck in the tropical sun, watching the bustling of the harbour, and the striking fact that of the natives, perhaps ninety-five of a hundred were women, women doing everything. Most simply dressed in a sari and light blouse, some in trousers depending on their occupation, and more than a few, quite shockingly, topless, dark brown from the sun on already brown flesh. Even on shore, well within sight, it was the same, as the electric trams skittered packed full of people and the population dashed about on their various tasks.

It was all quite the overwhelming shock for some, though at least one man dryly, perhaps sarcastically, hummed a few bars of a Kipling poem that had been set to song, and which had the most atrociously scandalous words imaginable. But in the spirit of the war against the British Empire in which they now found themselves, he certainly meant to imply by it the exact opposite of what the song promised, all quite aware of the disease most of those licentious pagan women bore. Most of the ladies of refinement kept below all day, leaving the male passengers to do their best to keep cool with iced drinks and observe the immensely bustling commerce of the harbour, from the fishing junks coming in with the catch in their nets raised high to the bags of coffee and pepper being loaded by the craneful into an American steamer.

Dinner was of course served in the same sterling fashion as had been promised, but there was more than a bit of a surprise. Hoping to ease the ship's first-class passengers into the idea of being in Kætjhasti after the shocking scenes of the day, no-doubt to the sensibilities of many, and to thank their erstwhile saviours, he had invited the officers of the Rhi-19 aboard. Captain Schneider, certainly, was hoping that they would present the civilized disposition he had encouraged his passengers to think of as residing in the hearts of the Kætjhastian people, regardless of the rough and tumble and quite immoral nature of a port city. There were five of them, all told, the ranking being a surprisingly young Korvettenkapitänin who was the Rhi-19's commander. As the first class dining room was being seated, they arrived, all of them Indonesian or, in one case, mixed Indonesian-Chinese.

Two had glasses, two did not; the Korvettenkapitänin herself was five foot, one inch--and wore a monocle on her right eye, which normally only a man would do back in Europe, but of course, her dress was also a uniform which seemed the spitting image of the formal dress uniforms of the men of the Kaiserliche Marine back home, with only differences in the medallions and medals which would make sense only to the military eye. She proudly dangled a short scabbard from her belt to her side, of the type that an educated individual would realize was for a Malay's wavy-bladed kris. She was seated with her executive officer at the head dining table, to either side of the Captain, and at the same table where it happened again that Mitzi was seated. And that monocled face couldn't help, then, but pass over the young German lady in her gaze. The captain introduced them shortly enough, and the officers stood to bow she was introduced as nobility, showing the great formality of their people. Finally her own name was presented. "This is Damini Eila, Korvettenkapitän in the Royal Kætjhasti Navy, and commander of the underseeboot Rhi-19, with her executive officer the same, Kapitänleutnant Kshatara Aliput. Our protectors of the last evening."

Mitzi smiled only somewhat blandly through the introductions, bobbing gently in turn as she tried to assimilate the jarring mix of phenomes. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Frau Kapitänin. The escort of your boat was most welcome these last days." She settled herself down a ways down the table, on a side where she could stare at as many of the officers as she could without appearing too impolite. The dress blues on the band of small women reminded her of some of her younger cousins, children dressing up to be soldiers. Again she stifled a smile - she doubted the Kætjhasti would have appreciated the comparison, no matter how apt it was. They were still smart enough, despite that, and so grave and serious that at times she really did have to struggle not to ruffle their hair. She hid her mouth behind her napkin for a moment, feigning a crumb, her eyes dancing as she lightly ignored the conversation around her.

Damini Eila allowed her gaze to ultimately drift back to the German noblewoman. "Frau von Selmuth, might I inquire as to your reason for making a trip which proved so ultimately spoilt by war as this? I, and forgive the boldness of the observation, had not oft before seen European women of refinement traveling alone through these ports, and confess I heard before that it was very uncommon." She judged to make sure the comment offended nobody--the Korvettenkapitänin could not help but be a bit scared at making sure she was showing a good impression of her nation--and then waited for the answer. It gave her a moment to admire the pale skin of woman legitimately, more like a painting or a picture than any other she'd seen, without being untoward. Really, the Kætjhasti were just as curious as the Germans around them.

With a brief double take, Mitzi recovered her composure as she realised someone was addressing her, having her drink refilled as a brief cover while the moment passed. "I was traveling to Tsingtao, to meet my husband. He's stationed at the garrison there, although I'm no longer certain I will be able to make it now." She stopped herself before directing the question back at the officer, realising in time it would have been silly.

"I don't think it would be possible or wise," Damini answered, and her look fell as she glanced around the table with plain and monocled eye alike. "I had not realized that the German Consul had not received this information in time to convey this to you all, but, we were informed today by headquarters that we must consider Japanese ships in our neutrality patrols for the future, as just today the Japanese issued a one-week ultimatum to the German Empire to disarm its pacific installations, hand its colonies and Tsingtao over to the Empire of Japan to be occupied, and cease all military operations in the Pacific Ocean. By August 23rd you will be at war with the Empire of Japan, as I cannot conceive of His Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm accepting such offensive terms, which are clearly, as the Japanese love to do, first with China and then Russia, but a vague pretense for war at the first possible occasion, being impossible and outrageous under the specious terms of Causus fœderati they claim.

“I must say that, on account of the numerous humiliations my people have long suffered from the British Empire, I would like nothing more than to see us counter this move with our own declaration in favour of Germany, and lament that for the moment the laws of civilized nations insist on our neutrality. As for you, Frau von Selmuth, I offer my apologies, and, certainly, prayers for the sake of your husband, though I think it will be very hard for the Mikado to succeed in reducing your, ah, Gibraltar of the Pacific."

Mitzi nodded her thanks somewhat vaguely, brushing aside how the metaphor was lost on her. If Japan were to declare war on Germany it did seem like she'd end up on a liner back to Europe then. Well, her English was good anyhow; at least it would not be a particularly trying trip. She could probably use the war in the Atlantic as an excuse to dawdle for a time in America - she had no doubt her welcome home would be less than delighted, having just bundled her off to the Orient. Sipping from her glass, she looked over the monocled Damini more closely. "You don't think the Japanese more than the savages of Africa then? I am told they performed as well as any other civilised nation against the Czars."

"Certainly in the case of the Russo-Japanese War, Frau von Selmuth, the Japanese launched a surprise attack on the Russian Pacific Fleet at Port Arthur without having properly conveyed their declaration of war. They claimed it was 'mis-timed'. A mis-timing which gave them a crucial advantage throughout the rest of the war, having damaged and incapacitated two Russian battleships for several months, allowing them to gain a later overwhelming advantage, and mine the approaches to Port Arthur, which later killed the Russian Admiral Makarov and generally crippled the defences," she concluded, then, adding, "I would say that the Empire of the Mikado, though civilized in ways we both appreciate, is nonetheless a rather immoral creature. Certainly this ultimatum seems to suggest it so. Though I understand that the morality of particular societies is variable, as my presence here no doubt represents to you, it would seem that the cavalier way that the Japanese play with international law is at the least distasteful. Certainly over the last ten years, and I remember well, for I entered the Naval Academy only a few short years after the Russo-Japanese War, we have been preparing for the prospect of defending against such an attack on our own forces, though it would naturally be immeasurably more difficult due to the distances involved." She seemed, unlike the German men aboard the ship, to be perfectly willing to discuss military matters with Mitzi, which after some thought might not be a surprise, but was likely something the girl was not used to.

Mitzi murmured politely at the brief recollection, not entirely sure what to make of it. The woman must have studied it during her stay at academy, certainly more memorable than Mitzi's own vague memories of it, mostly an image of another student interrupting midterm studies her first year to tell her it was over. That Theodore Roosevelt had been involved was greatly more interesting than any part of the war itself at the time. She wondered now exactly what she had missed out on. It made her glance back at Damini, though. She must have been younger than Mitzi if she had enrolled in college then, and already a Korvettenkapitänin? Vainly she tried to remember exactly where that stood on the rank table, momentarily convinced she was recalling it in error. Unsure of what she might add to the conversation though beyond her earlier flippancy, she subsided into silence again, picking at her food and continue to watch curiously.

The conversation about the likely entrance of Japan into the war certainly carried the subjects discussed to new and rather different heights. It certainly meant that dinner was not disinteresting, though perhaps rather confounding for poor Mitzi. An interesting point came up, however, as dessert was served. As customary, this was a time when most of those at the table would tend to light up their cigars or pipes or, in the case of the women, cigarettes on six or nine-inch evening cigarette holders, opera gloves placed back over the hands--the forearms always being covered--while they handled the tobacco, before removing them again to eat their dessert with so as not to sully the gloves, all done with a smooth grace according to the refined rituals of upper class etiquette, though of course the Kætjhasti officers had just doffed their gloves like the men. It was here that one of the other ladies at the table rather bravely offered the Kætjhasti submarine commander a cigarette. Damini responded by looking rather wryly across the table. "Some time ago, I should have fancied one, Frau Herschoff, but unfortunately I was involved in an accident three years ago aboard the Rhi-8 which saw a very significant amount of chlorine released into the submarine at depth. We were able to ascend, but my lungs have been... Quite weak ever since, from the damage inflicted, so I don't dare indulge." She made to change the subject quickly then, however, realizing that though the men at the table might understand, Frau Herschoff certainly did not.

Mitzi blinked again as she somewhat awkwardly lit her own cigarette - she indulged on occasion, but almost never with a proper holder. Placing it aside for a moment, she blurted, "What the devil were you doing with halogens on a submarine?"

That got everyone's attention at the table quickly enough. As a few of the other Frau clucked at the use of such language on the part of a married woman and the Captain tried to remember what a halogen was, Damini seemed both surprised and happy to have caught someone who understood. "It's produced by salt water coming in contact with the batteries, because the electrolytes are sulfuric acid and potassium hydroxide--I believe batteries on the Rhi-8 had each, Frau von Selmuth—which makes the rapid realse of the chemical possible. It was a very unpleasant experience, to feel one's lungs fill up like that; I spent three months in the hospital for it, and we lost four of our crew to the chlorine. As best as can be told it was a very small leak in the pressure hull brought on from a subsurface collision with an uncharted underwater promontory in the area. That, and they think it was responsible for the weakness in my right eye. I was temporarily blinded, you see, and the right eye simply never recovered all the way; before then, I'd been rather unique in having good eyesight," the Korvettenkapitänin sighed a bit, and then grew more than a little curious. "If you'd forgive me, Frau von Selmuth, how did you know about halogens?”

A slight frown crossed Mitzi's face. "Were the half cells poorly sealed, or was it a long enough for significant corrosion to occur? And for that matter-" She stopped in mid-thought, flushing as she realised everyone was looking at her. "I have had, ah, some experience." Forcing down her nerves, she added, "Was that the full cell? You mentioned two different sorts of batteries - was there cross contamination?" She tried to remember the voltage of a KOH half cell and was coming up blank, and her access to the Merck had been left back in Potsdam nearly a month before.

"I believe the findings of the Board of Inquiry were indeed that it was cross-contamination, as I seem to recall having read that after I got out of the hospital, and at any rate, all the submarines in the service were shortly refitted to have standardized batteries across type, so you could well be corrected, Frau von Selmuth," Damini answered crisply, and more than a little entranced by the prospect of a European lady who knew her technics, so to speak, for that was the more or less literal translation of the word which referred to mechanical devices in Kætjhasti's derivative of Old Javanese.

"Our submarine force has expanded so precociously--we had the two old Holland boats, and then the Rhi-1 through Rhi-8, and now we've commissioned another twelve from Germany, and are building our own first eight in our native yards, Frau von Selmuth, that I don't think we really were keeping up on the necessities of their operation, and had to learn through hard experience. The technology is a very recent one, after all. But we've learned from the mistake, and the new boats are much better," she concluded, and then couldn't help but inquire more directly. "Where, if I may, did you garner your experience?" She didn't want to openly add I didn't realize that women could enter scientific occupations in the west, because she fancied it would be offensive even if true.

Mitzi's brow crinkled, in part in vexation as Damini kept steering the conversation back to her Uboots, and in part as she tried to figure out how you could get rid of the counter ion in high enough concentrations to get a harmful gas cloud. "Kaiser-Wilhelm Universität in Straßburg." She bit her lip, starting to feel self-conscious again. "And, ah, it's Salmuth, actually."

Damini flushed quite visibly. "Oh, forgive me, Frau von Salmuth. I confess that the distinction between the two is... A bit uncertain to my ear, and I much apologize for having made that error," she concluded whilst still very much flushing and acutely aware that of all the people at the table, only Mitzi had gotten her rank correctly gendered, though the comment left her quite interested again. "If you will not begrudge me the question anyway, are you in fact a chemist? I ask because I understand there's a considerable need for trained chemists in the country at the moment, particularly those trained in the German laboratory methods. I've heard this from some of the specialists that work with our submarine squadron on technic issues, and, well, I thought the information might be of interest to you if you are a chemist."

Now everyone at the table was a bit uncomfortable; Mitzi was a young married woman with her husband now in an uncertain war, so shouldn't she be going home nice and quickly to stay safe, and to stay away from the weird people of Kaetjhasti? But of course the Korvettenkapitänin had very different ideas on the subject, and was trying to make up for her poor-German-induced mispronounciation of Mitzi's name, anyway. Not like Mitzi had won any credit as a proper lady at the table considering how willingly she'd taken up the subject, and was she really a trained chemist from Kaiser-Wilhelm Universität? It seemed the whole table was interested in the answer, now, and all eyes were unfortunately upon Mitzi.

So this Kaetjhastreich, it controls the north coast of Australia and most of New Guinea if I’m reading this right? Anyway, the submarine fleet seems more then a tad unlikely, effectively they’ve got as many subs as the German Navy did in 1914, while having territory that is rather less suited to the operations of early subs (tropical heat and distances = crew roasts alive, this being the main reason the Dutch invented the snorkel)

Sea Skimmer wrote:So this Kaetjhastreich, it controls the north coast of Australia and most of New Guinea if I’m reading this right? Anyway, the submarine fleet seems more then a tad unlikely, effectively they’ve got as many subs as the German Navy did in 1914, while having territory that is rather less suited to the operations of early subs (tropical heat and distances = crew roasts alive, this being the main reason the Dutch invented the snorkel)

They've invested in them heavily for territorial reasons--the geographic changes in this world are considerably more substantial than just the union of New Guinea (also Sahul minor) and Australia (Sahul Major) to form the continent of Sahul, which is, of course, quite realistic, as it existed in that form as recently as 13,000 years ago. There is a far, far less realistic geographic proposition rather to the east--they actually have a significant degree of territory. The reason for the submarines at Lajhama, of which there are quite a lot, is because they don't have a powerful enough fleet to control the Arafura Sea and their Inland Seas (the Tasman and Coral Seas, as a big hint) at the same time, since they're so disconnected from each other. So they chose to deploy a very large submarine force at Lajhama while concentrating their battle fleet in the inland seas. I'll go ahead and post the map if I can do a cleaned up, 1914 version.

For the moment, THIS is the national flag:

Left-handed red hakenkreuze in symbolic Hindu style on light blue canton, with white body; the stripes, the significance of which I'll explain in a bit, were added later to distinguish it more from a flag of surrender.

A little awkward at the start, but quite good overall. I would like to read more.

The Duchess of Zeon wrote:the great fortress and commercial city of Tsingtao, torn from Chinese hands by the Kaiser after the Boxer Rebellion.

Minor correction, wasn't Tsingtao and the surronding Shangdong province ceded to Imperial Germany in late 1897 with the Boxer rebellion being kicked off in late 1899?

Where's the romance?

LadyTevar wrote:Where's the romance?

I expect it will appear in due time. Her Grace hasn't disappointed us yet.

LadyTevar wrote:Where's the romance? :lol:

Oh, it'll appear after a while. Technically, the genre of historical romance does not even necessarily include romance--though this certainly does. In time. I write like a Russian for sundry good reasons, you see. Which is to say that when I mean a romance, I'm thinking War and Peace.

That NOS Guy wrote:

The Duchess of Zeon wrote:the great fortress and commercial city of Tsingtao, torn from Chinese hands by the Kaiser after the Boxer Rebellion.

Minor correction, wasn't Tsingtao and the surronding Shangdong province ceded to Imperial Germany in late 1897 with the Boxer rebellion being kicked off in late 1899?

You are right, and I have corrected that.

The Duchess of Zeon wrote: Oh, it'll appear after a while. Technically, the genre of historical romance does not even necessarily include romance--though this certainly does. In time. I write like a Russian for sundry good reasons, you see. Which is to say that when I mean a romance, I'm thinking War and Peace.

You know, of course, I never finished that one. It was more verbose and overblown than Tolkien.

What I hope to have up by late tonight is probably the most useful thing I can provide to explain the Empire of Kætjhasti to you all: The 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica article on the country, naturally!

LadyTevar wrote:

The Duchess of Zeon wrote: Oh, it'll appear after a while. Technically, the genre of historical romance does not even necessarily include romance--though this certainly does. In time. I write like a Russian for sundry good reasons, you see. Which is to say that when I mean a romance, I'm thinking War and Peace.

You know, of course, I never finished that one. It was more verbose and overblown than Tolkien.

Eeep! We will try to be more crisp than that, though period flavour is really part of what we're going for, and people, quite simply, wrote a lot differently back then. I hope you enjoy, anyway...

KÆTJHASTI, EMPIRE OF. A nation of Australia and Oceania, and one of the great powers of the world. The article is for convenience divided into ten sections: I. GEOGRAPHY; II. THE PEOPLE, III. LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE; IV. ART; V. ECONOMIC CONDITIONS; VI. GOVERNMENT AND ADMINISTRATION; VII. RELIGION; VIII. FOREIGN INTERCOURSE; IX. DOMESTIC HISTORY; X. SPECIAL CONSIDERATIONS.

1. GEOGRAPHY. The Empire of Kætjhasti sits astride two continents, Australia and Zealandia, of which it possesses entirely the later, which is often, however, considered to be a section of Australia which was detached from the main part by a terrible cataclysm which caused sections of what is today the Coral Sea to subside so that it could be submerged. Though commonly thought as a point where Australia and Zealandia may have once been connected, the Strait of Samadare is a deep water extension of the Tasman Sea, and has likely always been submerged. The Empire also consists of the Tasman Islands to the south, consisting of the North and South Islands, and the Effingham and Forbisher islands which are next largest in size along with 26 lesser islands, which form an extension of the southern promontory of Australia; the Auckland or to the natives Trilajh islands which form an extension of southwestern Zealandia in the shape of rocky, mountainous islands extending to 59º52' South; the island of Tar'ek off the southeastern coast of Zealandia; the Kermadec Islands to the east, volcanic in nature and properly part of Polynesia; the New Hebrides to the north, predominantly the same; and the Solomons to the extreme north, volcanic extensions to the south of the rocky mass of Papua which terminates in the great islands of New Britain and New Ireland. In all, it may be said that the land Kætjhasti possesses completely engulfs the large and hot Coral Sea in the north, and through the narrow Strait of Samadare passes into the Tasman Sea, bounded on three sides by the Empire's landmass and partially to the third, opening only to the southwest and the inhospitable waters about Antarctica. This has naturally allowed for ease of commerce within the nation, and prevented easy access by foreign fleets in modern terms, considerably aiding the defensive task of the country.

The continent of Australia, divided into Australia Major and Australia Minor, the later commonly called the Great Peninsula or the Peninsula of Papua, after a Portuguese appellation for the wooly hair of the Negritoid natives who remain predominant in the interior and north shore, comprises the more populous and fruitful portion of the country, though it is generally less habitable to whites than Zealandia. Of the continent's territory, 1,050,000 square miles forming the western section of Australia Major is in the possession of the British Empire as West Australia Colony. The northern half of Australia Minor is divided between the Kingdom of the Netherlands in the west (80,000 square miles) and the German Empire in the east (83,000 square miles). The remainder of the territory is universally recognized as that of the Empire of Kætjhasti, some 2,087,000 square miles. Of this territory, at least one third is virtually uninhabitable desert, populated mainly by Negritoid primeval inhabitants who maintain a subsistence lifestyle without settlements and are regarded justly as inferior by the ruling Malay race of Kætjhasti, though these deserts have recently been pierced by several railroads which shall be considered later. The southern coast of the desert regions is hospital, though separated from the barren interior by a series of salt-pans. The Gulf St. Vincent provides a predominant feature here with the city of Sammjhi located upon it to the north of the Fleurieu Peninsula. The climate here is distinctly mediterranean, with wine being produced in some quantities, while extensive herds of sheep are driven in for the slaughter from the interior where marginal grazing land exists.

Further to the east, the Tasman Peninsula, or Caladar Country to the Kætjhasti, forms the main area of settlement for the dominate peoples of Kætjhasti in the south. This region has a warm and temperate climate along the coast and a cooler and pleasant climate inland, providing for extensive cultivation of grain. Significant quantities of coal and iron ore have also been obtained in the region, as well as the only significant quantities of opals known in the world to be mined. The great dividing range begins in these lower hills and continues north as the spine of the continent until it sinks to low hills along the Torresian Isthmus. The narrow band of coast to the south consists of dry forces of eucalyptus trees and has been populated by Kætjhasti's principle residents since the formation of the Empire. Further north the broad Kætjh plain, drenched in extensive warm rainfall from the currents of the Coral Sea that are compressed to the south through the Strait of Samadare, contains the immense bulk of the present Malay population and is entirely given over to the cultivation of rice, the jungle having been industriously cleared to effect the maximum production, and numerous lesser cities and industries situated near the Imperial Capitol of Kænahra. The great torrents of rain which make the Kætjh plain suitable for rice crops in its entirety, and riven with canals, are not entirely dissipated by the Great Dividing Range, and here in this area alone does significant quantities of rain penetrate beyond it into the interior, irrigating an area called the Italjhid plateau to the point where extensive grazing is possible.

The northern coast is provided in plentiful rainfall from both the Indian Monsoon in the west, and rain clouds passing over the lowland of the Torres Isthmus which the Great Dividing Range declines to, with average heights in some places only a hundred feet above sea level across the Isthmus. This guarantees an extensive range of the northern coast the same capability as the Kaetjh plain to support extensive cultivation of rice, and the landscape has been considerably reworked for even greater lengths of time than the Kaetjh plain, so that little of the original forests remain in places. However, overgrown, later forest developments over what were once rice paddies show that in previous times cultivation was still more extensive. A similar pattern extends to the southern coast of Australia Minor. The highlands of Australia Minor are heavily forested and filled with natural bounty, with the local negritoids having been progressively driven deeper into the high mountains which form the border. These mountains, forming the northern extent of Australian Kætjhasti, reach altitudes that despite being very near the equator afford them year-round snow in some places, and made both the advance of Kætjhasti to the north, or of the European powers to the south, entirely impracticable.

Of Zealandian Kætjhasti the immense distortion of the continent, or great island, may immediately be noted. Extending across 33º37' of latitude, extending from almost 7º above the Tropic of Cancer, or 17º South, to 54º South and with its further promontory islands extending into the furthest southern seas, the size of the landmass is a comparatively small 1,600,000 square miles, thought to be about twice the size of the island of Greenland, and purely continental in geologic makeup. The continent is shaped like a triangle arranged north northwest, with a bisecting spine approximately two-thirds of the way south down the landmass, known as the Zealandia Highlands, consisting of two immense plateaus with higher mountains of volcanic origin rising from them in turn, including the highest peak in Kætjhasti, the Mount Aoraki, reaching 16,916 feet above sea level. Much of the rest of the continent is very low-lying land, though sufficient variation in elevation provides for acceptable drainage, but makes for extensive networks of broad and slow running rivers ideal for canals. This terrain makes malarial fever and breakbone fever constant threats for the population, and extensive efforts to engage in the drainage of the land have been required by the government to facilitate further habitation.

Though the central plains have found themselves to some degree inhospitable due to the poor drainage, four regions beyond the highlands offer themselves to ease of habitation. The first of these is the western part of South Zealandia, comprising fourty percent of the land area of South Zealandia State. This area is rendered incredibly bountiful by the cool rainfall delivered continuously by the great easterlies which sweep around the Antarctic continent, and deliver rainfall in excess of 140 inches per year along the coasts, and considerable amounts in areas of the interior. But due to the height of the land, and the drainage afforded to the east by the Sambuhl swamps, the land lacks extensive swamps or marshes. Immense forests of coniferous trees of family Podocarpaceæ and broad-leaf evergreens cover this whole reach, and many of the lower-lying areas of the Zealandia Highlands as well. In this profusion of primeval bounty, an immense number of large bird species and unusual forms of mammals have prospered, as well as some of the rarest known reptilian species. Many have gone extinct due to the prodiguous spread of humanity; many remain. The Auckland islands to the southwest of this promontory show a trend from temperate rainforest to subarctic conditions over their full reach, and are a volcanic extension of the Zealandia Highlands chain.

To the immediate east, and before the Rehanoaka hills which split the centre of the southern continent, is the Sambuhl swamps. This immense concentration of swampland is twice the size of the Pripet Marshes of western Russia, and broadly comparable in diversity, being only very lightly habited. Beyond the Rehanoaka hills in turn is lowland near the coast which, being better facilitated in their drainage, and situated at a higher latitude with less rainfall, though still sufficient, affords an area of particular bounty, which has seen extensive colonization from the central parts of the Empire in recent years. To the northwest of this region is the very large Unohak Depression, which at one time was certainly an arm of the sea which was closed by volcanic activity and lays well below sea-level. It is now filled with a series of three major lakes, which will no doubt ultimately rise over æons to combine and form a new and great river to the sea, as no present means of drainage exists.

Now traversing the Zealandia highlands the Kra'taoi plateau affords itself an excellent position, being similarly afforded with quantities of immense rainfall, though not as great as the extreme southwestern reaches, with averages recorded in the range of 70 - 90 inches per year at the most, as the Tasman Islands serve as a barricade to these atmospheric concentrations. This area has long been the habitation of the Maori people who conquered the less sophisticated natives, though in this case the area has been given over entirely to the Maori variants of the Australis subspecies. Their tendency to adopt more to the farming of grains, introduced in quantity by the Chinese in the 1300s AD, has considerably changed the landscape and seen the felling of much of the once dense forests which covered this area. Directly below it, and comprising the rest of the central part of the continent, is another vast swamp, at least the size of the Sambuhl swamps and estimated to be somewhat larger, pinned between higher land and draining slowly to the east through broad coastal plains. Aggressive draining of this area has been commenced, in comparison to the pristine nature of the Sambuhl swamps. Though all directly connected, it bears no particular name, the Kætjhasti peoples having various appellations for different regions. The presence of this swamps and their easterly drainage means that the populations of central Zealandia are concentrated on the Kra'taoi plateau and the western coast.

The rest of the continent to the north is divided into two enormous peninsulas, the Tingfu'eh and the Enahouae. They are divided by an enormous bay formed by the subsidence of land in æons past, usually called the Orangetua Fjord, though the later term is incorrect, as it was not formed by glaciation. In both cases the land rises considerable, though there is more variation in the Tingfu'eh peninsula, which contains an extensive depression similar to the Unohak, though largely and only narrowly closed off from the sea, named the Willem Endracht, after the Dutchman whose exploration of the Orangetua afforded him the first sight of the depression. A myriad of thirty-one small lakes exist on its bottom, with high hills most prominent to the north and west. The Government has lately proposed studies into the feasibility of constructing a canal into depression, creating an artificial waterfall of a vast scale which would enable the generation of electric power, but these seems far beyond the present engineering capabilities of the Empire. The Enahouae peninsula affords a more generally high and less broken visage, rising in the far north to a plateau some 4,600 feet above sea level which contains on it Mount Paniae, reaching an elevation in turn of 9,972 feet. In this area the diversity of reptiles and birds is at its most extreme, and at least one species of giant birds persist in the highalnds. There is a sharp and strong divide between the western side, which is rain-shadowed by the high plateaus, and the eastern side, which is rainforest of a tropical nature, though with distinctive flora. In comparison, the Tingfu'eh peninsula has predominantly similar conditions to the Kætjh plains in the lowland, and the Great Dividing Range of Australia Major in the highlands, presumably from species having crossed over the narrow straits over time and establishing themselves strongly in the area, but also due to the Chinese and Malay colonists introducing all characteristics for the intensive cultivation of rice over many centuries.

The eastern territories of Kætjhasti, annexed as late as the early 1890s in the case of the New Hebrides and southern Solomons, are in those cases of volcanic origin and have a tropical or sub-tropical climate, though the only examples of the later are in the New Hebrides. Major eruptions have taken place, and the archipelagos are known to be extremely hostile in climate to whites, though the Malay populace of Kætjhasti has proved hardy in their efforts to administer and conquer the resisting tribes of the area despite the natural opposition provided by the usual jungle fevers. Further to the south are the Kermadec Islands, forming to the northeast a volcanic extension of the Zealandia Highlands as the Auckland Islands are a volcanic extension to the southwest. These islands are considerable in number and size among all those of Polynesia, but vary considerably in climate over their rugged and folding surfaces. Many of the southern islands have been populated by species from Zealandia, though the northerly islands have a predominance of the palm, and the introduction of the Polynesian pig is universal.

I'll post the other nine sections of the Encyclopædia Britannica, Eleventh Edition's 1911 article on the Empire of Kætjhasti as they are completed, in numerical order.

2. THE PEOPLE. The people, or peoples, of the Kætjhasti nation, provide an immense cross-section of the Malay and Pacific races beyond their more peculiar traits. Of the population as a whole, a plurality is of the Malay race in origin, numbering approximately fourty-five percent, and they are the dominant among the peoples to be discussed in their influence on culture and in the government of the state. More importantly, however, is the due consideration attended to the nature of the Kætjhasti. They have been previously argued to exist as the sole living subspecies of homo sapiens; recent evidence has however confirmed that they exist as a part of the human species, but one in a fundamental and irrevocable symbiotic relationship with the Kingdom Bacteria.

One of the most fundamental and immediately noticeable results of this symbiosis is that the primary races of Kætjhasti (irrespective of those on the fringes of the Empire who did not suffer infection) are entirely female. This peculiar social order was the result of the symbiosis in the form of a very well documented plague of the 1480s - 1490s AD, apparently introduced from the Tasman Islands by sailors, and attributed in the local Hindoo superstition to the wrath of Kali for the men having eaten meat. As the fantasy goes, a priestess offered herself up through immolation to Kali, and her wrath was relented, with the females of the sinful lands being allowed to survive through self-reproduction (See PARTHENOGENESIS). In general this has completely reordered all infected cultures, and created unique bonds over and above those of typical national identity which have allowed the Kætjhasti to form as a strong and unitary state body.

This relationship has only been very recently discovered. In 1908 in the southern city of Sahmunapura there was a case, discovered only a year hence after an investigation by local European-trained doctors into a strange malady affecting the women of the area, of workers at a local dye plant that had been recently established having been made sterile by contact with Sulfonamide dye compounds (See SULFONAMIDES, Medical Applications). This discovery at once provided the world with indications of the potential use of Sulfonamides in the treatment of infection, and provided a clear and cognizant theory of the development of the Kætjhasti which laid to rest prior proposals of a Homo Sapiens Australis, long argued against due to the extensive racial mix present in the Empire, but remaining the foremost proposal, heavily championed by supporters of Jean-Baptiste Lamarck's Theory of Evolution, as to the existence of the Kætjhasti. In the same way, then, that the return of sailors from the Americas brought with the scourge of syphilis, so was Kætjhastian society permanently reordered.

In biological results, the foremost is that pregnancy becomes a random act, rather than one associated with the act of copulation. This yields a tremendous pressure on the society, in which the inferior woman must already absorb all the tasks of the man, to deal with and mitigate the costs resulting from an essentially random disabling of all individuals in the society at some stages of their lives. Kætjhasti women have adapted, and proved hardy, to the necessity of working until the third trimester of pregnancy, and children are never raised individually, but by the communal blood family, called a term in the Kaetjh Javanese which best translates as 'Motherline'. Inheritance is direct from eldest to eldest along the Motherline, with an absolute social commandment toward the eldest providing for her sisters, with each generation usually numbering only two to three daughters on account of the immense number of miscarriages and spontaneous abortions that result from the imperfect method of Kætjhasti reproduction.

Firstly among the prominent results is the incredible arrangement of the family structure. Though approximating the great homes of the Sumatran family, encompassing many generations, the crucial component of Kætjhasti home life is that the family is all related by blood, and permanently so. As each woman is the descendent of one ultimate infected individual, these continuously spawning lines of clones form the only family possible to the Kætjhasti, and are their fundamental social organization. Though a mockery of marriage exists in the sanctifying of relations between women as an ostentatious display of their Sapphist affection, it has no bearing on the actual composition of the family. Rarely do such 'married' couples even regularly cohabit, with children inevitably remaining attached to their extended family throughout life, regardless of their accomplishments. That Sapphist attractions have become the norm is not considered surprising in a country where only twelve percent of the population is male; they have certainly contributed to the deplorable state of Kætjhasti morality when supplemented by the lax doctrines of the Kalist Hindoo and the fanatical devotions of the Tantra. This erotic love for the same sex is predominant in all portions of society from the Empress to the lowliest peasant woman, and is the subject of a great deal of high Kaetjhasti literature.

Frequently in youth this Sapphist attraction takes the forms of casual relationships between those of similar social status, caste, and occupation, not dissimilar to the institution of the Spartan Mess. These barbaric customs serve as the fundamental basis of all future interactions between individuals in Kætjhasti society, lending them immense social cohesion even at the same time that their government is oft-crippled by an extreme sort of sororal nepotism. At the same time, as a force for discipline in their military in the very same fashion as the Spartan Mess, it has giving them unit cohesion which provided a sound basis for the establishment of European discipline in their armies and a fierce loyalty to their comrades which makes the average Kætjhasti woman, however individually weak and incapable in combat, ferociously committed to standing her ground to the point of overwhelming even the hotheaded characteristics of many of the races which compose the Kætjhasti. It is this trait which earned them the respect of the Dutch in the War of 1890 over southwestern Papua, where the Dutch officers found the Kætjhasti soldiers willing to die in their places 'like stones', refusing to retreat no matter how many were killed and returning fire to the best of their ability, such that the Dutch were not once able to overcome a Kætjhastian defensive position held by their regular army instead of local militias.

In cases of labour, the Kætjhasti female proves herself dogged in all efforts to match western productivity. The chewing of the coca leaf and consumption of caffeine from coffee (brewed in the usual Asian fashion) and tea (of the Chinese variety) serve to aide the Kætjhasti where unassisted strength alone would not provide. The natural tendency of women toward hard and unstinting labour as part of their family duties has been expanded into the realm of the farm and industry with longer hours, more workers, and more than a bit of canny Malay ingenuity having proved sufficient to build their society on industrial and western lines. A love for education and a preference for a respect for hard work more similar to that of the Japanese than the absolute slothfulness of their original races has allowed the state to modernize with surprisingly little difficulty.

One finds the Kætjhasti in all their breeds to be a particularly emotional people. They laugh and cry openly, in all castes of society. Their personal emotions are readily talked about in the fashion of women, and they openly admit their weaknesses. Universally, such conversation is attended by physical closeness, and embracing and kissing in the fashion of Russians and much more intensely beside is completely normal for them, conveying no implication of Sapphist indulgence, though it may soon be given, with such affections indicated most uniquely by the brazen licking of the object of one's desire. No personal space exists among the Kætjhasti, and bathing and toilets lack entirely in privacy, with certain circumstances attending to sustained embraces between even those who were before absolute strangers.

With foreigners they retain a particularly cheerful demeanour, their highest respect being reserved for Germans and Austrians, for they associate with the German language all high culture, and admire in full the accomplishments of the German Empire. In no way do the Kætjhasti fail in their unstinting admiration for the German race, and extensive developments by major companies such as Krupp and IG Farben have taken place at the eager behest of the Kætjhasti government, while the consumption of German lager and schnapps is now a universal affection. The Kætjhasti, being incapable by their racial descent of fully appreciated the totality of German culture, have nevertheless proved quite able to assimilate all the most practical benefits as well as the traits they find at a facile emotional level to be the most endearing. For all Caucasians traveling through the country, however, universal warmth may be assured, and the Kætjhasti are exquisitely and unfailingly polite. They, viewing themselves as orthodox Hindoos, also retain particular favour for visiting coreligionists, and a guest will not lack in comfort, nor the provision of the immensely popular East Indian 'kretek' cigarette, though other forms of tobacco are usually lacking from their consumption.

Kætjhasti society, being a derivative of the ancient Hindoos of the Malay archipelago in the respects of its dominant race, is fundamentally polytheistic and superstitious. The nature of their society and their relations amongst themselves has rendered the spread of Christianity impossible, and the character of the Empress as a living goddess has not been touched by the reformers of the 1889 military coup who introduced a western style constitution, in this respect similar to Japan. The killing of beef cattle is universally prohibited, though consumption of lamb, seafood, and pork are unrestrained as well as fowl, save amongst those who for reasons of Hindoo religious practice abstain entirely from meat. On account of the innumerable raids conducted against them by the Muslim conquerors of the East Indies, from whom their ancestors formed refugees in more distant times, they hold an especial hatred for those who profess the faith of Mahomet. Both the Mahayana and Theravada strains of Buddhism, from Chinese and Malay sources respectively, combine with the Chinese introduction of certain Taoist elements to create a variant branch of Hindoos who by their exception syncretism have succeeded in largely integrating the heathens of the state.

Another component of the nature of the state is the caste system. As in the inhabitants of the Hindoo island of Bali, there are only four castes, the Dalits or Untouchables have been sensibly and mercifully eliminated from the Malay system, and their occupations integrated into the society as a whole. The castes are therefore only four in number, firstly the ubiquitous Brahmin or priestesses, who are ranked virtually equally with the second caste of Kshatriya or warriors, from whom come the majority of the nobility. Though both castes are almost universally Malay in race, they have comfortably integrated the chieftanesses and priestesses of the other infected peoples into their ranks, the caste system overall being much more fluid than in India, viz. the successful dominance of the Chinese colonists in comprising the greater part of the Vaishya caste of merchants. All farmers and workers not consisting of impoverished families (who nonetheless always freehold even in such cases) of the other castes are considered the Shudra or peasant caste.

The racial breakdown of Kætjhasti reflects the nation's diversity and divergence in no less fundamental ways, but these are secondary to the sexual considerations. In demographic terms, the infected population has an average total fertility rate of only 2.3, with the highest being that of the ethnic Chinese at 2.5, and most of the rest at 2.2. This tiny figure per woman belies the nature of Kætjhasti reproduction, where all individuals reproduce at this rate: A more accurate figure is therefore a respectable total fertility rate of 4.6. The uninfected population conversely has a more normal total fertility rate for primitive peoples of about 6.2. The ratio of infected to uninfected is only approximately 4:1, yielding 40 million infected Kætjhasti and 10 million uninfected. In this fashion the fundamental weakness of parthenogenic reproduction is shown due to the greater fecundity of the uninfected to the point of wiping out even the gains the Kætjhasti may have from their whole population being female. This is however not the only likely factor; it is certainly true that the Chinese, forming an extensive part of the merchant caste and thereby seeing little great physical exertion, have the highest birthrate, and certainly some improvement could be obtained.

Of the races, about 40% of the overall population, or 20 millions, are infected ethnic Malays who first settled the area of the Torres Isthmus and the Kaetjh plain, along with the northwestern coast of Australia Major and southwestern coast of Australia Minor, in the 1100s and established themselves as an eastward extension of the rice permaculture of the Indies, easily displacing the primitive and inferior Negritoid inhabitants. Some remnants in the far west and scattered through the great bulk of the Kætjhasti cultural areas remain uninfected to the number of perhaps 2 millions, for 22 millions in all being of Malay heritage. Though it at first may seem remarkable that the Malay race has succeeded, particularly considering the limited capability they show elsewhere in less trying circumstances than those the Kætjhasti state faces with its lack of men, on a more careful consideration it must be noted that the Malay is first oppressed by Islam in his normal circumstances, while the Hindoo faith does not provide such an impediment to modernization, nor such an inducement to fanaticism. Secondly, the Malay is certainly to be accounted intelligent among the races of the world, his principle fault being a base cunning which overwhelms all moral sense.

However, what is certainly to be accounted the most important point is that the upper classes, the high Brahmin and Kshatriya, are for the most part not pureblood Malays, but hold in them an admixture of Aryan blood. The intrepid Aryan conquerors of India, having subdued the Dravidian races of the south, journeyed further afield in the introduction of the Hindoo belief system to the East Indies. There, they unquestionably established themselves as the rulers and priests, and the successive waves of invasion from the Khmer, a debased Aryan race of Indochina, further served to strengthen the effect. It has been conclusively proved through analysis of the skulls of upper-caste Kætjhasti women that they are in the better part heavily Aryan, and tend to be an inch to two inches taller than the average population. Though debased, this connection with superiour faculties means that the traditional leadership of Kætjhasti, descendants of those upper-caste Hindoos who inevitably formed the break bulk of the flight from the Muslim conquest of the Malay archipelago, has long had the intelligence and capacity to guide the state and aid in modern industrialization, and enough of a semblence of martial commitment, aided by their ubiquitous barrack-room culture, to prove capable leading their troops in battle against even European armies.

Second of the races in Kætjhasti are the Maori. Comprising 6 millions of the infected population, they are the descendants of Polynesian conquerors of the native Lapita people of Zealandia. Falling easily upon the Lapita and defeating them, they adopted iron through trade with the Malays of Sahul and maintained to the present a warlike culture even when all the males in their society had been lost, defending the high mountains of the central plateau from the uninfected Maori to the south and causing much trouble for the government, with the first Empress, Yashovati I, said to have been sufficiently impressed as to take a chieftaness as a lover from among their number in a rare expression of her perversion for the otherwise upright and brilliant founding monarch of the Imperial line. Being taller and physically stronger than the weak Malay women who nonetheless dominate the state, they are considered among the best of the infantry that Kætjhasti can field, though only when led by Malay officers with the highest admixture of Aryan blood, their proving too hot-headed and given to emotional frenzy and panic to properly govern themselves in war or peace, but a valid contribution to the state under the guidance of their conquerors.

The uninfected Maori of the southlands of Zealandia and the Kermadec Islands provide the largest uninfected group, and the most open to Christianity, with not less than a fourth of their number having been converted since the Imperial government was compelled to open its borders. The Maori man is naturally honest and honourable, and has proved willing to fight for his alien sovereign with surprising aplomb and typical ferocity, and they are prized as great seafarers and whalers. Combined, the southlands Maori and Kermadec islanders comprise 4 millions of the population, and one which has maintained substantial independence from the tendency toward unity in the Kætjhasti state, almost entirely due to the continued guiding influence of men in their society. Several lesser Polynesian cultures exist in Kætjhasti, but are insufficiently documented to be included.

Chinese comprise the third largest population. Settling in the northwest of Zealandia in the 1380s through 1450s and growing constantly right up until the moment of the plagues, they were introduced by the great Chinese eunuch-Admiral Zheng He at the behest of the Ming Dynasty, who developed extensive ties with the Kætjhasti and provided for them to knowledge to build the immense Star Rafts which fatefully brought to them the plagues of the Tasman Islands. They thoroughly dominate the merchant classes and are universally wealthy, causing no small amount of resentment, though their working relationship with and loyalty to the Imperial government is absolute, and their cultures have largely integrated, to the point where most identify themselves as Hindoo, though the Buddhist and Taoist influences remain predominant; the teachings of Confucius have proved sufficiently unable to cope with the situation of the Kætjhasti as to see them generally discarded.

The Chinese inhabitants of Kætjhasti are universally infected, and their racial descent is of the lowest form of Chinese, being predominantly Cantonese and Min speakers from the south of China who never benefited from the infusions of noble Manchu blood. They comprise not less than 4 millions of the Imperial population, and though only one-tenth of the infected population, dominate the upper echelons of commerce thoroughly and are greatly prominent as industrialists and scientific professionals, also being very visible in the universities and in the Kætjhastian branches of many German corporations that have been established in the past two decades. In this fashion, the Chinese have access to the halls of power, primarily on fiscal matters, and have produced many ministers for the otherwise largely Kshatriya government, with their innate capacity for fiscal matters well compared to that of Jewry.

Of the next largest infected race, the Lapita, it may be said that their culture has been obscured in all areas except the northeast peninsula, which remained a stronghold until captured by the campaigns of Sridarnya I and integrated into the Empire. The infected population of Lapita consists of 4 millions, primarily concentrated in the northeast and otherwise spread through the areas of Maori population. They do, however, have uninfected counterparts to the number of about 3 millions in the southlands, where the Lapita and Maori, other than in the northeast, remained the most separate. The antagonism between the Lapita farmers and the Maori conquest class here has considerably aided in Imperial control of the southlands and the tightened grip of the state on its uninfected minorities.

The remaining infected population is divided between about 4.5 millions of those of mixed race ancestry, predominantly Maori-Lapita or Malay-Chinese, though also some Maori-Chinese and Maori-Malays, who are spread throughout all levels of society and well integrated with the Imperial state, largely adopting the culture of the region that they inhabit, and a series of minor cultures on the other hand. These minor cultures include in their numbers about 250,000 each infected Papuans and Australians, the two principle branches of the negritoid race in Australia and much marginalized in Kætjhasti society, and the 500,000 strong Zealandia Highlanders, the Chomo, whose martial ferocity has given them a reputation as the Amazons of the Empire, only matched by their absolute and fanatical devotion to the Empress as the Sun Goddess. Extremely primitive, they are nonetheless the most interesting race, being unknown in their primordial origins. Analysis of their skulls and consideration of their great height suggests their original ancestors, per the theory of M. Chistyakov of the St. Petersburg institute, were related to the Ainu and in ancient times were universally present on all the islands of the Pacific. Their language is however isolated, with no known related tongues. The last group, of several hundred thousands, are the Torres Islanders, who inhabit islands off the Torresian Isthmus in the Coral Sea and are believed to be of Melanesian ancestry.

A last infected population, and of special note, are the Thousand Families. More precisely comprising of two thousand families, they are commonly called the Thousand Families due that being the number of European origin. Consisting of the descendants of numerous shipwrecked unfortunate women and children, including the unfortunate survivors of several penal ships to West Australia which went off course in the late 18th century, but stretching all the way back to the famous Portuguese Fernandez family of the early 16th century, these families are entirely integrated into Kætjhasti society, infected with the parasite or symbiot through unknown means (their existence was one of the prime arguments against the theories of Lamarck), and sharing in the vices of their forcibly adopted culture. They are in all cases true to their Aryan blood and, adopted by Hindoo religious custom into Kshatriya families and caste, remain extremely prominent out of all proportion in the government and military. The other thousand families include those of Thai, Khmer, and Vietnamese heritage, as well as many Japanese and some Indians, along with at least one family of Arab origin; of these the Japanese and Indians are the most prominent, though those of Vietnamese ancestry are the largest group. They are less successful in general, however, than those of white ancestry, but equally revered as 'gifts from deities of the sea'.

A final note may conclude our consideration of the peoples of Kætjhasti. Over the course of the past seventy-five years, as trade became fully normalized and extensive with Kætjhasti, there has been a continuous number of European, and some women from European colonies or Japan and other Asian states with a capacity to trade with Kætjhasti, who have intentionally sought out the nation. These deranged women, usually with Sapphist tendencies, have tended to be less integrated into Kætjhasti society, but usually also more fanatical in their loyalty to the Empire, and frequently completely abandon their prior religion and wholeheartedly adopt the most perverse and lewd elements of Kætjhasti society. The Kætjhasti accept them, and their numbers are now thought to reside in the tens of thousands, with many of them infected by the same bacterial parasite as the main population. The government has cooperated in the banning of provision of visas for single women, but as a matter of policy has approved all requests for asylum by those who manage to find Kætjhasti shores illicitly, and so this strange form of immigration continues, albeit at a trickle.

Total intolerance for alternate social structures, check. Obsessive use of the word "race" when the word "nation" is meant, check. Yep, sounds like Victorian British writing.

Master_Baerne wrote:Total intolerance for alternate social structures, check. Obsessive use of the word "race" when the word "nation" is meant, check. Yep, sounds like Victorian British writing.

Thank you. It's pretty damn hard to realistically portray the attitudes of someone literally writing 100 years ago--part of it is the tone, the rest is simply remembering that yes, it should be that bad. The person inside of me cringes at using 19th century racial classifications, but they also actually would have been used in such an article, and, well, it serves as an interesting component of the story itself insomuch as it's a fairly realistic description of how 19th century Europe would see such a culture.

You're quite welcome. I write in a somewhat over-the-top style as a matter of course, but I've never been able to do period writing.

3. LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. The languages and literature of the Kætjhasti reflect their position as a multiracial Empire systematically. Until recently there was no formal standard on language, though Imperial Rescripts were posted in Kætjh Javanese, the native language of more than two fifths of the population, including all the governing Kshatriya classes (even those not racially Malay have generally adopted the tongue).

Kætjh Javanese began to diverge from Old Javanese in the 1000s during the height of usage of that language. The divergence however became extreme in the 13th century when the rise of the Majapahits in the western Malay Archipelago caused significant changes between the two languages. The later fall of the Majapahits in favour of the Islamic traders and conquerors who have completely changed the history of the archipelago left a permanent split between the two languages. The refugees from the fall of the Majapahits brought to Kætjhasti some of their linguistic innovations, but being of the highest Brahmin classes for the most part they were most interested in religious works. Already of Old Javanese, of the 25,500 known words of their vocabulary, 12,500 are borrowed from Sanskrit. This is certainly not the case in every-day speech, but heavily influenced the language and influenced Kætjh Javanese moreso.

With the basic genesis of the language established, the number of loan words from Sanskrit in the early Kætjh dialect was on the order of 13,000 and the use of Sanskrit as a religious language in Hindu devotion never completely ceased. The language diverged heavily from here, however, with the extensive addition of loan words from the local Negritoid peoples and Melanesians. The Lapita and Maori of Zealandia further added numerous words to the tongue, and the arrival of Chinese settlers in the late 14th century lent further to a polyglot tongue which due to these extensive loans already was likely unintelligible with Middle Javanese.

The great collapse of their society, and their descent into an entirely female people, completed for the Malays of Kætjhasti the evolution of their tongue into a distinct and different form of the Malay languages. It may be best described that if the present Javanese tongues are the Romance languages of western Europe, Kætjh Javanese is the Rumanian: Still clearly recognizable in its descent and yet substantially different in most respects and with extensive foreign influence.

With this background the language has subsequently been elevated not merely as the court tongue (though superceded in religious roles by Sanskrit) but as the common discourse for most government transactions and as a second language necessary in almost all arenas except commerce, where the dominance of the Chinese has guaranteed the Cantonese tongue parity with Kætjh Javanese.

The 4 January 'Bayonet Revolt' of 1889 brought the reformist National Union Party into power, and their interest in linguistics was marked. Since taking power over the government, in the interest of concepts of the fundamental Hindu identity of the State, they have launched a concerted effort to incorporate more concepts and words from the Sanskrit into the modern Kætjh Javanese tongue, while preserving the traditional abugida script on the Indian form which Old and Middle Javanese were also composed in, against competing proposed romanizations. The National Union Party also formalized the state languages, providing for publication of government documents in both Kætjh Javanese and German, while allowing each different lander or state under then new constitution to declare an official state language in which official documents and parliamentary debate may also occur.

The official state languages comprise the majority of other tongues spoken in the Empire's core territories. These are Cantonese, Maori, Lapita, and Chomayu. All correspond with an infected ethnic group and a state government (or several) and are the languages of the commoners in that region in general, though usually local notables will have learned it as children. In general the upper classes know Kætjh Javanese and at least one European language as well, however, and only Cantonese enjoys status as a full second Imperial language by the ubiquity of its use in commercial transactions. For a woman of refinement of Maori or Chomayu background, for instance, the knowledge of her native tongue as well as Kætjh Javanese, Cantonese, and French or German is virtually universal. Malays and Cantonese, however, frequently learn not merely but two foreign languages; the most common are German (after recent propagation efforts of the Kætjhasti-German League, it is now mandatory in schools), French, Dutch, and English. Portuguese and Spanish are also sometimes taught; other languages are uniformly absent from the curriculum of even majority universities, though plans exist to change this.

Competing Abugidas and Romanizations exist for Maori, Lapita, and Chomayu, with Cantonese still relying on the Chinese character system, though the Standard Romanization was recently adopted, as Cantonese has proved relatively conservative in the Kætjhasti usage. The government has not sought to regulate these languages.

Kætjh Javanese is spoken as the primary language in twelve lander of the Empire. Cantonese is spoken as the primary language in only three, Tingfu'eh, Wuna, and Zhujiang, but they are very densely populated. Maori is predominantly spoken in six states, though these are lightly populated.

Among the lesser tongues of the Empire, Teouma and Xaapeta States are the only states with a majority Lapita population; Chomo State is almost exclusively Chomoi in population and therefore speaks the Chomayu language to the rate of 90%. Aeroaki State, usually called South Zealandia State, has co-officiality of a variant Lapita dialect and Maori. Of the two incorporated territories, both narrowly speak Kætjh Javanese over the native Aboriginal dialects, being lightly settled, mostly by
railroad workers.

Uniquely among the tongues, Chomayu is a language isolate with no known relations, though it has been conjectured that the Chomo peoples are related to an antediluvian universal Pacific population related to the modern Ainu. This classification, and hypothesis, based on analysis of the similarities in the skulls of Chomo and Ainu, has naturally led to efforts to prove a relationship between the two languages, but as the Ainu tongue has been rapidly displaced by Japanese, the efforts have proved difficult due to the lack of an extensive Ainu vocabulary or knowledge of any ancestry for the language.

Tongues without formal representation exist in the Empire proper. Two minor Polynesian languages exist in the Zealandia Highlands with spoken populations of a few tens of thousands at the most, related to Maori but notably divergent. They are divided between infected and uninfected populations based on the village. The Min dialect of Chinese is very prominent as a local tongue in Tingfu'eh state to the point of competing with Cantonese, and the Hakka dialect is spoken by a small percentage of the population in Zhujiang state. The small Melanesian population on the Torres Isthmus maintains a distinct language. The Negritoid settled inhabitants of the Empire's territories on Australia Minor display countless languages, with many thought to be undiscovered and all spoken by very; the same is true of the aboriginal Negritoids of Australia Major.

Of the external territories, the entirety of the Kermadec Islands speak a profusion of Polynesian tongues, estimated as many as seventeen, their descents traced to the Rarotongan, Tongarevan, Rakahanga, and Pukapukan languages of the Cook Islands. The New Hebrides, however, feature a greater profusion of tongues; Kætjhasti ethnographers have documented more than a hundred of Melanesian origin and three of Polynesian origin. At least a further fourty languages exist in the South Solomon Islands, though few details are known about them despite extensive Kætjhasti efforts to seize control of the interior of the islands.

The literature of Kætjhasti is almost entirely produced in Kætjh Javanese or outright in old Sanskrit, which has seen a major revival at the hands of the National Union Party and recent concepts of a distinct and Hindu national identity. An epic poem, The Self-Immolation of the Brahmin Purani is the principle native religious work, compiled from oral sources in the 1840s by Samijha sri Wanava. It purports to explain the all-female nature of the Kætjhasti through the legend of the priestess of the great temple of Kali at Retangapura, by the name of Purani, who discovered that a plague had rendered the men who came to her over matters of fertility sterile. She launched on a dream-quest, a unique feature of Kætjh Hinduism related to the native Aboriginal beliefs, which led her to know that it was the punishment of the Gods for sailors having butchered cows in the southlands and eaten them.

Turning to her patron Goddess, the Brahmin begged that they should not be extinguished, that the women of the nation might survive out of their piousness to the Gods, in contrast to the sin of the men. She ascended to a holy place to the dread Goddess, and commanded the villagers to build a pyre for herself which she climbed and lit with a torch and pot of bitumen, kneeling in supplication to Kali as she burned. The goddess acknowledge the supreme sacrifice of her appeal, and took it upon herself to provide the Kætjhasti women with the means of reproducing themselves, while she exacted a particular further price from Purani herself, elevating her soul, given up by the Brahmin as her sacrifice to Kali, into a Rakshasas tasked with reaping horribly of the children of the women of the land, that they might survive, but never again enjoy bountiful fertility.

In general the old literature of the Kætjhasti is religious in this fashion, both to explain their unique situation, which they tended to recognize through contact with the outside world at a fairly early period, and to justify the masculine components of the Mahabharata and Ramayana and the other principle Hindu epics which comprise the bulk of their religious literature, and explain how the allusions and examples still have particular relevance for their society and the comportment of the Kshatriya and peasantry alike. Early works diverging noticeably from this scheme include the famous Commentaries of Yashovati the First, which she composed after being introduced to Caesar's Commentaries by her principle European advisor, Martin van Heerskomp. The writing is however poor in its imitation of Caesar; though the detail is excellent and language crisp by the standards of Kætjhasti composition, it is clear that the work is pseudo-religious in nature, and self-justifying toward the creation of the Imperial Cult, which makes it serve virtually as an additional religious text among the Kætjhasti but considerably lessens is value as an historic document to European world.

Of greater interest from the period, however, is the Travels of Princess Sridarnya, the Kætjhasti account of the Empress' younger sister's travels through Europe in the 1660s, including her famed audience with Louis XIV of France. The work presents a lively contrast to the stories of the European observers, and the princess, herself a trusted aide of her older sister, provided evaluations of the foreign rulers for the Empress to consider, which present a remarkable series of impressions of Europe's sovereigns from the alien perspective of the Kætjhasti in the era of the Sun King. The work is however risque in many respects; the inhibitions of the Kætjhasti writer are few.

Travelogues of this sort have vied with the recent development of novels, generally Romantic or Historical, in native Kætjhasti literature in imitation of Europe in the later part of the 19th century. Within the past twenty years, however, there has been a marked tendency to the composition of historical poems and epics based on existing peasant fables to create a distinct national corpus, much at the behest of the National Union Party. These sorts of tales have been supplemented by the thoroughly competent accounts of the Dutch War of 1890, usually from the officers who served, representing a European interest in the historiography of the battlefield and the lessons which might be learned from it.