SDNWorld Redux: Prologue thread.

[RogueIce]

(OOC: Co-written with Marina)

Presidential Residence, Midgar, Shinra Republic

"I'm sorry." She walked over and handed him a folder. "Here, this is why I came her. Like I said, Q appointed me the Moderator of this game. And there are some rules."

Rufus took the folder from her, and wordlessly began reading.

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

When he finished, he wordlessly handed the folder back to Marina. "So there's no portal this time. Doesn't matter. I never used the last one anyway." He leaned back in a chair that, under other circumstances, probably would have been comfortable. "So these people now, they are real you say. And the others, they weren't?"

"I don't know," Marina answered, turning her gaunt body slightly to the side. "Q didn't contact me about this until a couple days ago. I learned the most brief of overviews of the old game from Stanislav, who tried to defy Q and got tossed to my time's Earth. As you see, he finally relented." Her gaze seemed distracted for a moment until she whipped her head around once more, not inclined to sit. "My impression is that Q created the entire old world from whole cloth as a simulation, whereas this world is a real sort of counter-earth in a parallel timeline that he's manipulating using all of you."

"That sounds like him. But you know, I always treated it like it was real. Because for me, it was. Even before the war." His anger seemed to leave him, replaced by a deep tiredness. "You know I was married, right? After the war, though we knew each other from before. And now she's gone..." He shook his head. "I mean, she could be in PeZookia all over again, a new person. But she'll have no memories of us." He looked up again at Marina. "A Hell of a thing to wake up to, isn't it?"

"Q is deviously cruel. The first and most important fight I won with him was to protect my own family," she answered tiredly, swaying a bit and taking a step over to the wall to brace herself off of it.

"Forgive me, but I'm only capable of a few hours of strenuous activity a day--well, a night, properly. The rest of the time I can barely be counted on to keep my head upright when standing. I might have the strength to rip apart a dozen men, but only for three hours or so out of the day--our bodies are not efficient. At any rate, I am deeply sorry. But there is no way within my power to bring her back. I would do it, if I could; but my abilities are just a pale shadow of Q's."

"I know. No use blaming the messenger, is there? I suppose I should be happy she's in a better place now. Still, I wish...well, I wish things had been different." He paused, and a little but of his old strength came back. "I suppose this time I'll have to make sure they do, won't I?"

"Thanks for the talk. I suppose you're one of the few around who wouldn't look at me funny for bringing it up, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I pretty much am. And I'm sorry I can't do more." she coughed, closing her eyes and leaning in more dissolutely against the wall. "These people aren't absolutely loyal to you, incidentally. If you fuck up their country hard enough, they'll take you down. On the other hand, maybe that will mean that Shepistan behaves more sanely--Shep will have to take opinions other than his own into account. Eh, well, I'll try and make that clear to him, at least. Haven't gotten to him yet."

She straightened and slowly pushed herself from the wall, eyes blinking open in a moment of disorientation. "At any rate, I'm afraid I need to be going. So if there's anything else you want to say..."

Rufus smiled. "Just thank you. And to wish you luck. Hopefully, if we pull this one off, we'll get to meet again when you don't look like the living dead." He stood once more; it was only polite to stand when a lady was leaving, after all. Even if she was going to do some ghostly fade thing.

"My life path isn't alterable, Rufus. I am living dead, as I have been for six centuries. But, we will meet again--and I promise I can still set an excellent table. You'll see me often enough before that, that you'll be used to me, doubtless. Most people overcome the repulsion eventually. Take care, and good luck." And as promised, she faded into black and disappeared, and as she did, a snapping of the timestream back into flow took place.

And with that, the warm morning light returned. Rufus was a little saddened at her parting words. He wasn't one who particulary liked accepting that he couldn't do something to help, no matter how often life pounded that little lesson into his head. Well, time to get on to the business of state... And with that, he went to his desk, and started reading the latest batch of daily reports.

He had barely made a dent in the seemingly unending paper assaulting him when the phone rang. He looked at the Caller ID: ...Arik of Canissia... Glad for the distraction, he picked up the receiver.

"Hey, Arik," he said. "You're here, too, huh?"

"Yeah," Arik replied. "I decided to go another round."

"Not like we have a lot of choice, eh?"

"Yeah, well," Arik answered. "It's not like it's bad to be the King, after all."

"It's for keeps this time," Rufus said with a sigh.

"Well... we should call a MESS conference soon, get the lay of the land, compare notes, that sort of thing. I'll dig around for any threat dossiers I may have on my neighbors. I'm next to Bean... Well, we have a small ocean between us. And we have NPCs to contend with this time."

"Yeah," Rufus said. "Yeah, it'll be more interesting, I guess. Maybe we can keep from blowing this one up."

He heard Arik chuckle. "Believe me, I would have been perfectly fine not blowing up the last one," he said, "Let's get with the others and arrange a meet. You guys can come here, if you like..."

"Yeah, let's start making the phone rounds and we'll talk again tonight."

"Good deal," Arik said.

And with that, Rufus hung up. He leaned back in his chair. Thanks to the earlier flood of information, he knew one of the new players in this damned game was Steve. Rufus had known Steve back before all of this mess had started, and they had been friends, or so he liked to think. But Steve, for whatever reason, hadn't been a part of the first round.

And so it would be that Rufus would have a meeting with him. He figured he owed it to his friend to get him up to speed. A lot had happened in the last round, and it would be foolish to assume those who had gone through it all would simply forget. It would then be of great use to a newcomer to know what had happened, which might just give him the edge in navigating the minefield of international diplomacy.

He pushed a button on his intercom. "Brian," he began, already know the name of his Chief of Staff; a man who had had the same name and role last time, though he would lack the memories of that world. "Please call President..." Rufus thought for a moment, "Garret of Cascadia's office and see if we can't set up a meeting at his earliest convemience. Nothing fancy."

"Yes sir, Mister President," answered his dutiful Chief of Staff.

With that bit of business out of the way, he got back to work.

[Sea Skimmer]

Approaching Super Mega New Tokyo by Railway

From the outside the five car set of electric multiple units appeared no different then countless hundreds of other trainsets roving the vast Super Mega New Tokyo-Old Tokyo commuter rail system, and that was the entire idea. Inside, however each EMU car has its own diesel APU to ensure mobility, heavy armor plate, armed guards and fully equipped accommodations and command facilities befitting the rank of Head of Council.. Head of The National Sunshine Council, the secretive ruling body of Japanistan.

‘Nine voices of reason, logic and loyalty from the Generals, one voice of divine will from the Emperor, and one voice of Japanistan, my voice, thought Special Field Marshal Suchiidetsu Ichiro as he composed himself at his desk in the gently swaying railcar. ‘It is my voice that guides Emperor and Nation, I must not be hasty… but this new order of the world… this new world, this Q… it could threaten everything if their was too much delay.

Ichiro considered the idea for a time, until the increased frequency of bumps from switches suggested the train was getting close to the city center, when the tracks would either elevate or go underground depending on the days route, to reach the Government District and his appointment with the Emperor. They would not act with haste and seek quick solutions… development and destruction would go hand in hand.

“Incoming audio scrambler from Fox Nine,” buzzed an electronic voice. “Do you accept?” Ichiro inserted his metal and plastic keycard into a console, allowing the scrambler to decrypt the incoming transmission, and held the phone to his ear.

“Have the papers been signed?” asked the familer voice of the second in command of the council, Field Marshal Mitsuhashi Ario. “I am told our opponents have already gone into action.”
“No,” replied Ichiro “another hour for ceremony, and then it will be done. Inform the Council we will have to remain separate from now on; we cannot risk being taken in one spot by surprise in the new era.”
“The others will not like that Ichiro,” replied the Ario “they say you have too much power already.”
“My own power is not their concern,” Ichiro hung-up with abruptness as the 90mph train boomed into a tunnel that marked the edge of the worlds largest public and classified subway system, leading to the very heard of its largest urban area.

[PeZook]

I close the door behind me, taking care to not make any sound. She cried for hours after I told her, and now she was asleep - the kind of heavy, barely-regenerating sleep you get when deathly tired, and in pain.

I walk outside, to the palace corridor, and nod to the BOR officer standing guard there. I know her name, even though I barely started sorting through all the false memories Q implanted into me.

As I walk towards the Royal Office, I bump into my Head Of Protocol.

"Kamila?", I ask, surprised. I remember her being here, but I thought this particular memory was just a leftover of the first round, "What are you...wait..."

She looks at me funny, not knowing what to make of my confused expression . I notice a wedding band on her finger, and my shoulders slump.

"How is your husband doing?", I ask, not really caring. She hands me a folder with today's appointments, still a bit confused over what he saw.

"Oh, just fine, Your Highness, thank you for asking. His last seminar was a great success, 'Science' did a two-page article about it..."

I flip through the folder, not really reading it. I feel sorry for Rufus...I didn't really know the man before we met in The Game, but he was a good guy...and today, he woke up, and found his wife snatched away from him.

"Is everything all right, Your Highness? You look preoccupied."

"Oh? No, it's nothing...marital problems, I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, of course. Her Highness must be taking it pretty hard."

What? - I think, and it shows outside. Then the fake memory kicks in...her fake father's death, the funeral...I can't help but think of these people as automatons, obscene artificial creations implanted with counterfeit memories. Of course, Marina told me about this world, and I know it's wrong...it's a real planet, which painfully evolved to this point...but I knew my wife's father. Her real father. How could I even be sure Marina was telling me the truth? How could I know I wasn't just a copy, with the original still slowly withering away on Nova Terra?

Q, you bastard...if you only knew how much I hated you...

"Yes...", I finally say, "Would be so kind and make sure she is not disturbed?"

"Of course, Your Highness"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walk down the stairs and turn into the Western Wing. While I walk, with aides and advisors slowly gathering around me, I start to wonder about the others. How are they taking it? Are they all here?

I know most of what I should, of course, but I can't know what all the other...players...are thinking. Therefore, as I enter the Royal Office and take my place behind the heavy oaken desk, I give my first command. My first real command, I correct myself mentally.

"Karol...please arrange a thorough security briefing. I need to catch up on the current threats."

"At once, Your Highness."

"And try to get ahold of the Shroomanian PM, if you will. I'd like to speak with him about some confidential matters."

[Shroom Man 777]

Fortress Farbanti, Shroomania - 2051



His Nuclear Heart grew cold and he died.

His artificial lungs ceased to draw breath.

His cybrain ceased to think.

And with it, the Artificial Intelligences that ran the Shroomanian dystopia of the future expired into digital death.

And so ended Prime Minister Shroom the 777th's beneviolent regime, and so ended his rule of an iron fist and a heart of gold.



Hell




A firefight was going on somewhere off the distance, near the mountains. I could hear the sound of distant gunfire, and so I kept my head down.

Overhead, the whine of jet engines grew louder and louder and I couldn't help but look up - and I saw A-10s coming down low. I threw myself to the ground and covered my ears and opened my mouth.

Off the distance, near the mountains, the Warthogs released their deadly payload. Despite the distance, the explosion was deafening, and I could not help but shout as my eardrums were nearly perforated.

I got back up and turned to see, and saw a great cloud of dust.

I cursed and decided to get the hell out of there.

The fields of hell were rocky, made out of reddish material that was neither stone nor sand nor soil. It was slightly warm. I trudged through this rocky field, going as fast as I could since I was unwilling to get myself wasted along with the Baldricks, and then I broke into a run.

The sound of jets had returned, and the A-10s were circling back. I did not want them to mistake me for a demon and go at me with their miniguns.

I threw myself over the lip of a trench that had appeared out of nowhere, and I hid amongst the corpses within it.

"Nice night for a walk, eh?" a corpse said.

"Nice night for a walk...?" I sputtered in bewilderment and horror at the corpse, who looked rather pretty for carrion.

"Hell-o, Prime Minister," she (the corpse was a she) flashed a fanged grin. "Q sends his regards."

"Oh... fuck."

"Yes indeed," she said cheerfully, wrapping her arms around one of the (human) corpses. She sank her teeth into its throat, and began lapping up the blood that oozed slowly out of it...

The sight was unnerving, and I was rather unnerved. "M-m-m... Marina? Is... that... you?"

"Mmmhmmm..." she got up and wiped the blood off her lips. "It is I."

Damn.

"What's going on?" I asked feebly.

She picked me up and dusted the dirt off my Prime Ministerial outfit.

"Are... you... g-g-going to... kill me?"

"No," she replied with a smirk, as if what I had just said was particularly funny. "You're dead enough as it is."

"Uhhh..."

We got out of the ditch and went back to walking on the fields of hell.

"...uhhh."

"I'm here to help you," she explained.

"Help... me?"

"Help... you," she replied, like a person trying to communicate with a caveman.

"How?"

"Q's going for another round of the game."

"Ah."

"So, do you want to play?"

"No."

She grinned, and showed her fangs.

"Yes."

"Good boy," we stopped near a hole in the ground. "Now, take off your clothes."

"What?!" I sputtered.

"Look," she said as she made me unbutton my tattered and blood-stained Prime Ministerial outfit. "You won't need it where you're going. And look for the DVD I left for you."

"What?"

"It'll have everything you need. Now, off you go."

"What?"

She kicked me. Down the hole.

"Aaaaaaarrrrrghhhh!" was my only retort.



10 Shrooming Street, Farbanti, Shroomania - Today



Pain and cold.

That was all I could feel.


Shroom woke up and found himself on the floor, naked, and feeling like a dead man.

He crawled up and staggered and steadied himself.

He picked a towel up from somewhere and wrapped it around himself.

Strange thoughts, memories, and feelings filled his so-called brain, nauseating him, and making him vomit.

He vomited into a toilet. A toilet?

Where am I?

He staggered out of the strange room and entered another, larger, room.

"Good evening, Prime Minister," greeted Alison, his aide. "How was your bath?"

Shroom muttered something incomprehensible.

"A woman left this for you," she said, producing a DVD disk which she placed on a table.

Sudden realization hit Shroom.

He grabbed Alison by her shoulders.

"Sir?!"

"What day is it?!" Shroom asked with mad eyes.

"Friday!"

"What year?"

"2008."

"No... it can't be." Shroom released her and picked up the DVD. Written on its non-reflective side was 'From Q, For Shroom'.

"Sir...?"

Shroom turned around to face Alison, and with a grave look in his face, he said this:

"There's still time."

[Siege]

You always were a sucker for powerdressing, I idly muse as I look at myself in the tall standing mirror. The president has quite a taste for suits – silk shirt, sleek trousers, single-breasted, peaked lapel jacket, all of it in imposing presidential black and fitting like a hand-tailored glove. We have at least our taste in clothing in common, then. I still think of him and me as two separate persons, and I wonder if, perhaps, a part of his consciousness has replaced me back in what I think is the ‘real’ world. That would be exactly Q’s kind of humour.

That train of thought can wait for another time though. Putting on the suit instils in me a quiet kind of confidence. It’s time to do business and get things rolling.

At the press of a button an aide, dressed in the unobtrusive outfit of the Presidential Security Service, enters the room.

“Sir?” he asks, and his respectful tone makes me feel ten shades better about myself.

“Tell the pilots to prepare a chopper for a trip to the Tower. And tell the Big Four that I want to see them when I arrive.”

“Certainly sir.”

The helicopter trip is short but spectacular. Pride One, the modified presidential VH-71 Kestrel, soars high over the skyscrapers of the central city, hopping from the Presidential Palace to the Tower of Commerce less than twenty kilometres away. It’s shaping up to be a hot but beautiful day: sunlight glints off the thousands of windows of the skyscrapers, and the tropical sky is blue as can be. From Palace to Tower is a mere ten-minute chopper trip; yet if we’d gone by motorcade it would’ve taken the AIP hours to clear the road. San Dorado’s traffic is notoriously frenzied, which is of course why most CEO’s and city officials travel by helicopter or via private monorails.

I take a quick sip from a silver hip flask I’ve found in my presidential liquor cabinet. It seems that with the president’s memories I’ve absorbed some of his vices as well. Well, alcohol lubricates the mind and right now I can use some of that, so that’s okay. Plus, that presidential cabinet contains some damned fine-tasting spirits.

The helicopter sets down on the landing pad high up on the Tower of Commerce, an imposing art-deco skyscraper that looks strikingly like an enlarged version of the Empire State Building. As the whine of the engines dies down and the doors slide open my ears are assaulted by the wind-swept noises of the city below. Engines roar. Sirens howl. The screeching metal-on-metal of braking monorails. Ten thousand voices clamour for attention. I take a deep breath. Yeah, this is my city.

A tall and strikingly beautiful blonde woman waits for me at the edge of the helipad. Daphne, my mind fills in for me. Director Daphne Sinclair of the General Directorate for Education, Law Enforcement and Justice – DELEJ – and CEO of SiNtek, San Dorado’s biggest pharmaceutical and biotechnological corporation. Other memories also flood in, indicating that her and I share a relationship that’s quite a bit more intimate than what you’d expect of business rivals or partners in government.

A mischievous grin slides across my face. Perhaps it’s not so bad to be president after all.

She apparently decides to take my expression as a good sign. “Good morning, Mr. President,” she smiles as we step into the elevator. “What’s your plan for the day?”

“Why, my dear,” I reply as the doors begin to close. “To change the path of history, of course!”

The boardroom at the 85th floor offers a magnificent view of the surrounding cityscape, the Dodgson River, and the Statue of Fortune in the distance. The executive chairs are padded with black leather, the table is hand-crafted from a single piece of mahogany imported from Tanstaafl, and the room is sound-proofed against all bugs CBI could conceive of. Beside myself there are four people present: Daphne, Iago Morgan of DIFEI, Helena Skye of DEPICOR, and Sam Ralson of CORDEF.

Ralson is the man to watch out for, a part of my mind warns me. Even among cutthroat capitalists he’s got a reputation for being a nasty son of a bitch. He owns Ralson Concerns Ltd. whose biggest subsidiary is of course Ralson Arms. He sells guns to anyone willing to pay for them, and he’s got more blood on his hands than any of us. I don’t doubt for a second that Sam Ralson would kill his wife and kids in a heartbeat if he thought he’d stand to profit from it.

But that, too, is for another time.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” I greet them casually, setting myself down at the head of the table. “Before we start off with our day-to-day affairs, I think you’ll want to know I intend to call a meeting of the FTO’s Central Committee. Helena, I’d like you to dispatch invitations to Indhopal, Coilerburg, the Vineyards, Baerne and Westchester.” I lean back in my chair. I think I’m getting the bloody hang of this politics thing. “Because in this world and on this continent, if we want to stay ahead of the game, there’ll have to be some changes made.”

And so, I think to myself, it begins.

[Setzer]

Despite spending only a short time in this world, Setzer had gotten used to the culture in Sirnoth. The aristocracy had a curious mix of fear and hatred and awe regarding their Sovereign. As much as he hated elaborate function and ceremonies, he had to admit they posessed a definite use keeping the nobles busy. Plunging a dagger into the throat of a hated enemy had given way to veiled compliments with hidden meanings, patronizing gifts, and a thousand subtle wordplays all to numerous to recount at the moment.

Diplomacy is said to be the fine art of lying for one's country.
It was saying something that Setzer admired the brutal honesty international communication allowed him, finding it welcome relief from the intricacies of the Nexus City court.

First , a letter for Shroomy. It felt unusual, and oddly patronizing, to end anyone's name in -y, but that was what the man preferred. For all the pride Sirnothis had in their fight for independence, they were still closely tied to the mother country, and as yet there was no need to sever those ties. He typed up his missives on his computer, where they would be copied by his secretary in an elaborately curled script on gilded paper. People tend to appreciate the little details.


To the Benevolent Prime Minister Shroom the 777th,

Greetings.

Hmm... no, the intro is OK, but the situation called for something more formal then "Greetings"

I trust this letter finds you well.

That's better. Now for the rest.

By now you have most likely realized the situations of the world we live in. No man is an island, which could not be said on Nova Terra.

Hopefully Shroomy would appreciate the inside joke, though most other inhabitants of this world would have no clue. Ah well. The nobles here would devote their efforts looking for some hidden meaning, some insight into the thoughts of their Sovereign. They would be wasting precious time doing so, and there was nothing for them to discern in any case.

Rest assured that I believe interactions between our two nations would prove mutually beneficial, and I hope this will be the beginning of a long and profitable correspondence. I would like to discuss the details of our association, at the soonest possible time.

My Regards, Sovereign Setzer of the Sirnoth Principality

Well done. Now for some other business arrangements.

To Special Field Marshal Suchiidetsu Ichiro

He could be more direct with the Japanistanis, since theirs was a simple business arrangement. Well, mainly business.

I am eager to continue our previous correspondance regarding the oil trade, and other, more mundane matters. Suffice to say that cooperation on previously discussed issues will greatly strengthen both our nations, and I eagerly await your reply.

[Shroom Man 777]

10 Shrooming Street, Farbanti, Shroomania

I - Prime Minister Shroom the 777th - finished with my bath. It was a rather nice bath, and I tried to forget all the unpleasantness of time displacement.

Prime Minister Shroom the 777th finished with his bath, a rather nice bath, and tried to forget all the unpleasantness of time displacement.

The migraine that had bothered him - the head-hurting that came with having two sets of memories from two sets of realities from two sets of worlds with two sets of lives - was largely subsiding now. His brain was assimilating things, digesting them, and excreting them. He had now adapted, for example, the proper usage of tenses... and pronouns, eschewing the first-person POV for the more literally-easier third-person POV.

In short, he was now referring to himself in the third person. In his brain.

"Prime Minister Shroom the 77th finished with his bath," Prime Minister Shroom the 777th uttered with certainty as he draped himself with a towel and strode out of the tub - the tub which he had been ruminating in (amidst the bubbly warm water).

His previous acts of weirdness, which were explained by his return from the afterlife no-thanks to Marina's time displacement field, he had explained to his startled aide Alison as being due to his slipping on a bar of soap and hitting his head.

Thankfully, he had a rather hard head. So, no, the Prime Ministerial medicine men were not required to attend to his needs.

Shroom put on some deodorant and then pulled a pair of underwear over his private parts. Then he wore some pants, and a shirt, and a coat over that shirt.

"Um... Alison?"

"I'm right on it, sir," she answered sharply as she quickly and efficiently began tying the tie around Shroom's collar. "There."

"Thanks," he said graciously.

"Mmmhmmm," she scooted off and handed him a pair of papers. "These papers are for rather pressing issues, sir. I thought you ought to read them right after your bath."

"If they were so important, I could've read them while I was in the tub," Shroom said off-handedly as he received the sheets.

"They're also so important that I thought they should stay dry."

"Ah... very good. Now, let's see..."

"The first one is from the House of Lords."

"The Lords?"

"Yep. Specifically the Bishop of Bath and Wells."

"The Bishop! That pervert! What could he possibly want?"

"Well, the Lords Spiritual are getting rather miffed by the antics of Pitt the Younger."

"Goddamn kids in the Parliament."

"Mmmhmmm."

"Aly, this really isn't so important."

"But Parliament will be in session soon. You'll have to attend..."

"...and I'll have to wear my wig," Shroom nodded in solemn resignation. "What's in the second letter?"

"It's a hand-written letter from Sovereign Setzer, of the Sirnoth Principality."

"Oh!" Shroom's face brightened considerably. "How fanciful! A letter from the colonials!"

"Um, we don't actually call them that nowadays..." Alison scratched her head.

"I know," he grinned as he began reading the contents. His grin was replaced by a more thoughtful look as he read on. "Yeah... that reminds me..."

Shroom placed the letter on his office table and went over to a globe on the other end of the office table. He spun the globe around, and as it rotated, he took a quick look at all of the continents and nations of the world as they spun.

"Compose a letter, right back to Setzer."

"Type-written, or...?"

"Hand. You've got good penmanship, right?"

"Well, I'd like to think so -"

"Great. Now, message reads:

Sincerest Salutations, Sovereign Setzer,"

Alison looked up from her pen and paper and gave her boss - the leader of the Sovereignty of Shroomania - an odd look. "Sincerest Salutations?"

"Alliterations are where the game's at," Shroom smiled coyly as he settled himself on the seat. "Now, we continue! Thus:

Indeed, your letter finds me well, and I hope mine also finds you well as well."

"...what?"

"And so:

Yes. I have returned from a briefest vacation... In Hell, Shroom thought grimly to himself. ...and upon my return, I have reacquainted myself with the current situation at hand. Times are changing, and they may soon become interesting once again. "

"What is this all about, sir?"

"Shush!

I agree with you - in that no man is an island. We must bridge the gap between all nations, to begin mutually beneficial relations, or continue them, and to expand them. I too hope for the beginning of a long and profitable correspondence between us and our friends, in light of our nations' recent and longtime history of cooperation."

"Recent and longtime history of cooperation? What?"

"We must discuss the details of our association as soon as possible, to secure ourselves in this New World, to reestablish a bond of Free Union between Nations with our friends and allies, and to ensure peace for all.

Thanks,
Shroom the 777th

"Done."

"Send it away," Shroom nodded, pleased with himself and such. "How was it, by the way?"

"Totally weird. What's up with that?"

"Eh, he'll get it."

Alison shrugged and went outside to deliver her handwritten letter, and then she came back.

"Hm?"

"You've got King Paul on the telephone."

"How long has he been waiting?" Shroom got off his ass and got up. Paul!

"Umm... I don't know."

"Right. I'll get it..." he went over right away. "Um... where's the phone?"

[PeZook]

Reading through the security briefings helped me clear my thoughts a bit. All the disjointed fake memories were finding their place as my brain sorted them out. In a couple of days, I felt, it would actually be possible for me to make informed decisions while running this country.

It was an hour since I asked Karol to put me in touch with Shroom, and I almost managed to forget about this. But the intercom finally buzzed, and Karol dutifully reported that we had a connection.

I hesistated a bit, still not comfortable with the phone controls, but managed to press the right button.

"Shroom?"

"Please hold on a second, Your Highness, you are being patched through now.", a cheerful Shroomanian aide said into the telephone.

Then there was a click, and finally I heard Shroom's voice.

"Hi!", he said cheerfully

"Hi! Jesus, what a relief to hear a familiar voice. Everyone I know here had their memories gutted and completely replaced...I feel like I'm surrounded by the goddamned Pod People. For fuck's sake, I found out today my wife had a father I never met...and he died yesterday!"

I end my monologue with a deep breath, and hope I didn't scare Shroom away...but it's good to finally be able to talk to someone who understands what's happening.

[Shroom Man 777]

"Oh my..." Shroom had to restrain himself from sounding like a total Valley Girl. "Geez, I'm sorry man. How did your wife take it? Was she... was she... is she real? Is she... like us? I mean, holy shit, I didn't even know it was that weird..."

"Holy shit..." Shroom said to himself as Paul laid it all down to him. It was totally freaky. "This is totally freaky."

"I mean, I don't know. Alison seems like she's the same. But, I don't know. I mean...

"... I mean, I'm afraid. I was afraid something like this, well, not like this, would happen. But still, I haven't even gone out yet. I'm worried, man, and this is totally strange stuff. I've locked myself up in my room, I don't want to go out.

"I mean, just looking at the map, Shroomania's all weird. There are continents. And my people are totally British. Fucking British. With German in them. What the hell? I'm scheduled to go to Parliament, and I'm supposed to wear a wig. A wig? What the hell?

"There's some seriously strange shit going on. But... I guess we'll have to get used to it, right? I mean, just a while ago, I was in Hell - and there was Marina, drinking blood. Not my blood, but still. What the hell? I mean, seriously, what?

"Shit, man. If we're gonna survive Round Two, we've got to get the FUN back on its feet. Ever looked at the map, the globe? We're right next door to the Super Saddam Special, Skim, but now he's Japanistan or some shit. Fuck.

"We're gonna have to stick together. To stay sane. To survive, this time round...

"I don't think I can bear losing everything again, like last time. We can't let it happen, not again. Never again."

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

The Emperor sat as his chair, while his current adviser, Basilleus stood across the table. "So what are our Arab friends up to this time?"

"Well, Abdullah Al Abassad is relatively stable at the moment, though his Grand Vizier confided with me that the Sultan's health is deteriorating. His son seems... eager to take the throne."

"Any hints of poison?"

"The Sultan does not appear to be poisoned from our own tests. However, the Sultan is old, and damn old indeed."

"Well, we will be sure to attend the funeral when it comes to it. What of the.. Egyptians?"

"Suleiman Seljuk the Grand Caliph of Alexandria remains quite well, and as virulent as he can ever be. But it seems that he tempered his.. threats after a little reminder that we are giving him a sizable tithe of the oil revenues."

"That ungrateful lout is just like his father. Forever ranting at us. Secretly formenting unrest and raising hells of fanatics against us."

"Yes indeed."

"I hear that President Rufus wants to have a meeting."

"Indeed sire."

"Prep my airplane."

[PeZook]

"I don't know if she's real, man. I don't know if I'm real, rather than some clone implanted with all my memories. For all we know, Nova Terra is still there, and we are still slowly dying there.

And I just know Q did that bit with a fake father because he knew she'd cry once I told her about Earth. Damn nice of the fucker to provide a plausible explanation for that,eh?"

I calmed down a bit a couple of minutes into the conversation, fortunately. Shroom seemed freaked out enough already.

"But there's no use wondering about that...we're here, and we're alive. Yeah, I have a folder ten centimeters thick full of security briefings right here...There are constant border skirmishes, apparently, raids on villages, kidnappings for money, sex trafficking...my eastern border looks like shit.

I don't know about Skimmer...if he's like us, he'll be wary...we did murder millions of his countrymen last time, after all...you know, this is funny. When Q asked me if I wanted to continue the game...I feared next time around, Saddamistan would be right next to me. And here it is."

"The FUN certainly needs to get its shit together as soon as possible, I agree. In a few days I think I'll get into the hang of things: how about we arrange a summit in Orena then?"

[Shroom Man 777]

"Um, sure. Who's for FUN? You... me... Stas? Shady? The old FUN guys? Shall we extend open invitations to those folks? Who's actually here? Who's in? Should we make it an open invitation?"

Shroom sighed and tried to compose himself.

"Let's plan this. We need to know who's in, and who's not. And, well, we need to cover our asses. Yeah. We'll arrange a meet at your place when we get a hang on things."

Shroom sighed and composed himself.

"FASTA. We should get back on FASTA. We might have to restart the whole thing, but we're rich now. We can get back on track, get the funds, and blast off into space and colonize Saturn with a race of morally affluent, well-to-do people, ruled by me."

Paul was totally like: "...what?!"

"Um..." Shroom scratched his head. "We've still got Miranda Moonbeam lined up for the space walk, right? Anyway, we've gotta take the lead... in space! It's the way to the future!

"And..." Shroom added. "We can make money off the ShroomSats."

[PeZook]

"Stas doesn't want in, though PeZookia will be a member of the FUN and his Slavic National Confederacy. I think we can negotiate an FTA of some sort with him easily.

As far as I know, the FUN is you, me and Shady right now. We should extend an open invitation to new members ASAP."

I laughed after hearing Shroom's bit about Saturn.

"Yeah, I loved Vice City. I don't know if they got it here...feh, wouldn't have any time to play it, anyway. I will get in touch with some of my people and see about getting funds for the FASTA...I have no idea what state spaceflight is in in this world. I think I've seen some Soyuz pictures, but we may have to develop 100+ tonne boosters from the ground up...and that means a lot of exploding rockets, man. A huge lot."

[Lonestar]

Brickhall, the headquarters of the Old Dominion War Ministry

Lonestar looked at the gathered members of the General Staff, the Head of the ODAAF, Air Marshal Shultz, the head of the ODA, Field Marshal Butler, and the head of the ODN, Fleet Admiral Saldana. And, of course, the head of the General Staff, Marshal of the Old Dominion Reinsch.

"Thoughts?" Lonestar said, as the BMI Officer ended his briefing.

"The Shepistans are cracking down on their own Kanawha Tribesmen, so they'll be able to easily cut through the tribal areas to the Old Dominion in the event of war." Reinsch said. "It would behoove us to move quickly to secure our own tribal area."

"Fantastic. Any other thoughts?" Lonestar said.

"Excellency, I know that you've only been the Lord Fairfax for a few months," (A few days, actually Lonestar thought) Fleet Admiral Saldana said "So we didn't want to press you on it…but your predecessors had a naïve view on the world. The correlation of forces between us and Shepistan is adverse, to say the least. We have here," an aide put a brief down in front of Lonestar "A request for a 3-year procurement plan for the War Ministry. 4 Astute SSNs, increase the F-22 Inventory to 65, double our modern Leopard 2A6 inventory and relegate our Chieftains to the Territorial Army. We also want to acquire 170 BM-21s to equip units that will be raised from the citizen-militia in event of war. There is a requirement for several communications satellites and a GPS constellation, we will be discussing that with our MESS counterparts at the conference; the Combat Optics corporation has a couple of orbital designs we can use. We are currently studying our rotary requirements…"


Lonestar held up a hand.

"Is all this really necessary?"

Reinsch coughed.

"Your Excellency, the damn kids these days…they don't want to serve like they used to. In the event of a war we would only be able to bring 3 million servicemen to the table, unless we want to start conscripting. 3 million out of a population of 90 million? Versus a country with 170 million? It makes more sense to lavishly equip the men we do have."

"Alright fine, you have my support on the initial procurement plan, go ahead and get the ball rolling on that. I guess the subs would be split between Newport News and Hatteras Shipyards?"

"Yes your Excellency."

"Good, good. Marshal Reinsch, I want a demonstration against the Kanawha troublemakers. Don't kill any civilians if avoidable."

"Yes sir."

"And on that note…anything else?"

"No sir."

"Fine." Lonestar stood up. "I'm heading out to Canissa this afternoon."

[Shroom Man 777]

"Awesome. Well... not awesome. Exploding chimpanzees bad." Shroom thought. "But we'll get to that when we get there. Game's just started, eh?"

"Yeah," came Paul's reply. "No need to rush things. We'll have to take measured paces, rather than running and tripping on our own shoe laces."

"First thing's first. We'll have to work with Byzantium and the MESS, as well as the allies we can get in the FUN, to secure our position. We've got Skim right next door, and we've got Super Chechnya to contend with. We've gotta figure out how we can safeguard our Old Continent asses," Shroom put his 'thinking hat' on and began scheming. "Hrm... Runaway Defense Budget? Hrm... maybe not. But we gotta cover all corners."

Shroom could swear he heard Paul nod, over the telephone. The king gave his own advice, and since he was actually a statisticianologist rather than some silly upstart (like some loopy Prime Minister), Shroom was always inclined to listen to his advice.

"Yeah, we should best start arranging our deck chairs. Let's get acquainted with our new nations, and our new neighbors, and get things running. I've got to get myself acquainted with my new Parliament. Did you know that Shroomania has an actual House of Lords? With Lords and Barons and Dukes and stuff? Who are hereditary, and are in the Parliament? Totally whacked. With wigs."

Paul was nodding, yeah.

"It's great talking to you, mang. And it's great to have you here - no one else I'd rather be having FUN with. I mean, since sometimes I feel like I'm the last sane man left - "

They both laughed - at Shroomy's expense, but yeah. The two heads of state were wrapping things up.

"Let's go have some FUN."

They both said their goodbyes, and Shroom placed the phone down.

"Aly?!" Shroom shouted.

"Yeah?!" Shroom's aide shouted back from somewhere far off.

"Is my wig ready?!"

"Hang on, I'm putting some fabric softener on it!"

"Okay!"

[Raj Ahten]

Fenraven, Republic of Indhopal.

It was another normal day in the capital of Indhopal. The public was going about their business, and so was the government. Reports came into the War Department that there had been another clash with militias from the CFR last night. The clash took place some 50 miles northwest of Cartiel. 3 troopers had been wounded, no word on enemy casualties yet. The ISIA said they were getting close to a deal with another militia to hunt the latest batch of troublemakers down. These paid off local militia's, along with airstrikes and some raids guided in by the Special Reconnaissance Group, were the preferred method for dealing with the unfriendly militias from the CFR. Such things had been going on for over 30 years now, business as usual.

The foreign ministry was extra busy planning for the upcoming FTO conference. The usual problems of Frequesue made sure there would always some pressing matter that needed attention. Besides the usual security matters, Indhopal had several other proposals for its FTO compatriots this time around.

The business on the floors of parliament was the new defense bill. It would authorize large increases in the budget. It was a hot issue, as the press had been talking about troop shortages lately and the Independence party was taking the opportunity to rail against the current coalition's government for "letting the troops down," and "being soft of foreign militants."

Meanwhile, there was a demonstration going on in the streets of Fenraven. This was not uncommon. Today it was the mushroom farmers protesting a rent cut in subsidies. A small group of Muyyatin independence advocates were also holding their own event.

Just another day in the capital.

[DarthShady]

Location: Temple Prime, Sarajevo, USSR

Shady had an interesting couple of hours. Reading through the files Marina gave him it was clear that this new world worked differently from the old one. A more powerful nation was now under his control but that didn't make things easier, it made them harder. Looking through the security papers of his nation he realized that it had it's share of problems, mostly from it's smaller unstable neighbours. Places ruled by evil men and filled with terrorists and criminals, places that would have to be watched closely.

"Sir, you have a meeting with High Command in two minutes, why aren't you ready?"-the assistant, a beautiful young redhead, said.

"I've been busy, it must have slipped my mind."-Shady said, "Tell them that I'll be on line in a few moments."

"Yes Sir."-she said and left the room.

"This should prove interesting"-Shady thought to himself as he turned on the view screen in front of him. He pressed a few buttons and the Generals of the Shadow High Command appeared.



"Gentlemen, it's good to see you all again."-he said, "Tell me what is the situation, any problems?"

"Things are peaceful at the moment Sir.", General Anton Slavik said, "But our neighbours are getting bolder. Just yesterday we had a car bomb attack in one of the border cities."

"You call that peaceful, General?"-Shady asked.

"Well, Sir compared to what they usually do...yes I consider that peaceful."-General Anton Slavik said, "Mr.President we know the origin of the attackers, they are from The Zagor Empire."

"We shall deal with them in due time."-Shady said.

"Sir, If may make a suggestion..."-General Marzaq said.

"Go ahead General."-Shady said.

"Sir, I believe our current military forces are inadequate and that we should increase our military spending and the size of our armed forces ASAP."-General Marzaq said.

"Agreed. Gentlemen our world is changing and with change comes danger. We must be ready to face that danger. I want you to prepare a draft of what is needed and deliver it to me for approval. That is all. Until next time Gentlemen."-Shady said and switched off the view screen.

"So it begins..."-he thought to himself, "Lets hope we do a better job this time."

[Karmic Knight]

Central Command Room One, New Sheoth Castle, The Vineyards, Frequesue
Brandon was not happy after finishing his rule packet, the rules were not at fault, but the fact that every small, easily fixed, problem was being run by him, Fuck you, Predecessor, why did you have to be such a micromanaging asshole, but one thing had stuck out to him, a Communication from the Corporate Republic of San Dorado. At the time, Brandon had just, like all of the other annoyances barking at him while he familiarized himself with the rules of the game, shooed away the request quickly. He had finally reached the end, a list of countries and their players in the new game. The word “new” was one of the first things about the list Brandon noticed, the second was this:

• Indhopal – Raj Athen (Veteran)
• Imperial Westchester – Czechmate
• Coilerburg – Coiler (Veteran)
• Dutchy of Baerne – Master_Baerne (Veteran)
• San Dorado – Siegetank

He now noted that San Dorado’s Leader was, like him, a player in the game. He searched his memory for his aides’ name, “Uh, fuck, whatever your name was, uh, has San Dorado sent any messages?”

“Yes, sire. Recently, a message came through requesting you for an FTO conference in San Dorado,” the aide on the other end of the intercom said.

“Excellent, did the communiqué mention any of the other people who may be present?”

“No, sire, though one would think that every nation in Fresquesue would be invited to join in the conference.”

“Ah, so it is safe to assume that representatives from Coilerburg, the Dutchy of Baerne,” Brandon checked his packet quickly, “and Indhopal will be there?”

“From what I can tell, yes sire. Shall I send a representative?”

“No, I’ll personally go to this conference, maybe even get in some sight-seeing while I am there. Prepare RISC Unit 1 to join me, give them some weapons to make them look like a body guard contingent. Oh, and is there any other news that I should be aware of before packing for my little trip to chaos incarnate?”

“One other thing sire, the Senate has requested Justification from the Sovereign for the existence of the Shinra Naval Base in Syl, I was informed that the Senate has asked you to directly speak on this issue to them later tomorrow. As you know, Prime Minister Von Earles is one of the most powerful Jeffrey-style Monarchists in the country, so we couldn’t just silence it.”

The JftS was a major check the Senate had on the Monarch’s power, it required that when requested, the office of the Sovereign had to present a case for an executive action, and Walter Von Earles was notorious for using this when an operation was really being fleshed out, and killing good plans made by enemies of his. Brandon responded to this news thusly, “Damn, well, see if you can’t stall Sie… President Hank’s Conference until after I have given my speeches and testimonies on the Senate floor.”

“I will do my best, sire.”

“That is all I ask, thank you,” Brandon then sighed and began looking up the deal between his uncle and the Shinra leader at the time, while calling up the Royal Intelligence Service's JftS legal team. Things were not looking up on today, or the few days, for that matter.

[Coiler]

Jeffrey groaned as he read reports and briefings about everything from battles with militants to the current standing of the stock market. I'm president of a country that's hated by most of the rest of the continent. Fuck this, I know this job is going to suck.

After looking through the reports, he checked his mail. The letters ranged from a private message from the head of the navy asking him when he planned to inspect the fleet next to an advertisment for Vineyardian wine.

The most important message was an invitation to a FTO conference in San Dorado. Jeffrey replied with his intention to personally attend the meeting. With that important work taken care of, Jeffrey prepared to just relax for a bit-until he received a communiqué telling him of the mysterious buzzing sounds that some towns were reportedly hearing at night.

[MKSheppard]

Army House, Shepistan

General (and President of Shepistan), Sheppard read through the dossiers his military intelligence services had prepared for him.

So Lonestar, my old friend, you're next to me now. What a surprise.

Next to the dossiers was a simple flying computer which he constantly referred to to see if his bombers could reach the MESS nations with their payloads.

Hmm. Tricky here, but I think I can manage somehow...

Suddenly a voice from behind him said:

"Figures. While others are with their concubines, you're here, planning global war. I shouldn't have expected any less from you."

Turning around to see who had penetrated his inner sanctum; Sheppard saw a ghastly sight. A corpse-like...thing standing before him.

So of course, he did the only thing he could think of. He pulled out the Saiga automatic shotgun he kept attached under the desk for contigencies like this.

"Q's made sure your guns don't work. He doesn't want any more repeats of that incident with Lonestar." wheezed the figure.

"Well fuck, I guess we'll have to do it the hard way," muttered Shep as he suddenly reversed his grip on the weapon and began to advance on the thing.

"What the devil are you..." cursed the figure; but that was cut off by the sound of a jaw dislocating as the improvised bludgeon smashed into it's face.

Sheppard kept up the relentless bludgeoning of the figure, until it's upper torso was a ruin. As he stood above the twitching figure, his guards finally burst in, weapons at the ready after they had heard the sounds of the scuffle.

"Sir, what's going on?"

"Intruder. It won't die. Kill it."

The guards began to pump bullets into the twitching thing; but still it continued to twitch.

"Sir, what do we do?" asked one of the men plaintively.

"Fuck," muttered Shep. "Kill it with fire then."

"Right-o!" said the leader of his guard with a broad smile. It wasn't very often they got to use the flamethrowers in the armory....

[MKSheppard]

Army House, Shepistan

As the Biohazard crew came in and began to clean the carbonized husk of what had been whatever it was off the floor, General Sheppard was wondering what the fuck it had been, and most importantly, who had sent it.

"Lonestar? No. Guy's too friendly. If he's gonna fuck you over, he'll shoot you in the face, not in the back."

"Shroom? Who knows what ungodly monstrosities that son of a bitch has created, and something that can only be killed with fire sounds like something Shroom would cook up."

"Or none of the above," came another voice.

Goddamnit, not again, thought Sheppard as he whirled around and shot the intruder with his formerly holstered .45.

A cry of pain greeted the gunshot, and a figure dressed in what appeared to be a Command Uniform from TNG staggered back, staring at the growing red stain on it's chest.

"Picard never hit me, and Sisko never shot me!" shouted the figure, as it concentrated, causing the bullet wound and blood on it's chest to disappear.

"Sorry. Force of habit." muttered Sheppard, then a thought struck him. "Hey wait. If you're omnipotent, then how come you were surprised when Sisko punched you? Or when I shot you just now?"

Q glared at this most meddlesome insect of them all.

"That was not very nice what you did to me or to my emissary."

"That was yours? Next time don't send something that looks like a fucking zombie, okay?"

Q rolled his eyes. "You know, out of all the people my emissary has visited; only you had the bloodthirstiness necessary to find a way to inflict harm when you were denied the easy route of firearms."

"Oh, and before you ask, She's quite okay...now. It was such a bother resurrecting her."

"So what the hell do you want?" muttered Sheppard, who was by this point, getting quite annoyed at all these interruptions to his work.

"Oh, this is just a courtesy visit to introduce you to all the rules of this particular game. We don't want any more errors like in the last one."

"Christ," muttered Sheppard. "Start a global thermonuclear war once, and you never live it down..."

[Sea Skimmer]

Imperial Japanistan
New Sumatra Special Security Region
New Padang City

New Padang was a jewel in the eyes of Co Property Sphere economic planners, the ocean port served as one of few major rail hun of New Sumatras and was the main export terminal for west Sumatra crude, one of the few sources of oil under the Empires control. However even thirty five years after is formal annexation, following centuries of on again off again invasions and occupations, resistance to the Co Property Spheres goals of equal development and resource exploitation remained strong. In the remote inaccessible jungle were armed bands, some said hundreds, others claimed thousands, training, arming and fighting back against the will of the Emperor.

Accessibility meant victory, and that meant building roads and railroads across the depths of the trackless jungle, connecting the separate networks of the east, west and northern railways into one. Railways needed workers. For Special Armed Police Agent Junji Higashikuni, operating in plainclothes, solving the worker crunch and enforcing the rule of Japanistan and the terms of the Co Property Spheres went hand in hand.

He walked slowly, several other plain cloths Agents behind him, as they approached the target. The Arcade was popular with children, and given prevailing wages in New Sumatra compared to the Japanistani average most would belong to upper class families. As a licensed foreign entertainment establishment the facility was allowed to operate foreign arcade machines and also sell approved manga and books, but evidence pointed towards violations of the policy despite the mandatory use of remotely visible police surveillance cameras on the premises.

As they approached a pair of boys left the store, walking around the building and down an alleyway behind it, one of them was holding a paper bag. Higashikuni lifted a radio disguised as a cell phone and ordered his agents to move in. The quickly cornered the children, no older then 12, among several dumpsters.

“Special Police,” barked Higashikuni, surprising them from the side with his collapsible baton drawn “don’t move and hand over the bag.” Both children were terrified but didn’t move.
Higashikuni mentally rolled his eyes and then repeated the order to hand over the bag. By now the three other agents had closed in, and one of them simply plucked the bag from the boys hand and tossed it to Higashikuni.

Hanging the baton from his belt, Higashikuni removed a clear plastic sealed Japanistani National League Baseball magazine from the bag and dropped it on the ground.
“Lets see what we really have here,” he growled as he tore the plastic apart and opened the magazine cover. As he suspected, behind the cover page was the cover a completely different magazine, an imported ‘comic book’ anti Imperial abortion of a proper Manga his loyal Japanistani mind sneered. At once he flipped to the second to last page, the real back cover, and saw the words Printed in Shroomania written across a corner.

“WHAT IS THIS!” he yelled at the boy thrusting the page towards his face. “WHAT IS THIS POLLUTION!”
“We didn’t know!” shouted the second boy. “That’s not what we wanted to buy!”
“LIES, said Higashikuni “to complete the willful deception of the Emperors wisdom you LIE! Summary punishment!” he barked. “Two weeks community service on THE RAILWAY! And you will testify against the scum in that building who deal in illegal propaganda as soon as we arrest them.”

“No we didn’t know,” both boys screamed now, as they were handcuffed together and dragged away.

Higashikuni was long beyond any compassion, twenty years in the Special Police had brainwashed him into absolute certainty that the rot which afflicted the Co Property Sphere began young and was best stamped out then. Two weeks of making mud bricks and digging post holes in the sweltering jungle would teach them the need for obedience. Now it was just a matter of collecting some local police to support his raid on the Arcade… the thought was interrupted by a tremendous explosion several blocks away, followed by a rain of debris.

The raid would have to wait; the rebel scum had struck again.

[Lonestar]

Virginia Pilot-Ledger

Dominion forces strike Kanawha terrorist compound



Following an escalation of the continuing conflict in the Kanawha Tribal region, with Al-Nitrami vowing to bring destruction upon both Shepistan and the Old Dominion, a tribal compound was attacked Dominion forces late yesterday afternoon.

"Operating on intelligence reports, we believed that several fighters notorious for entering the civil areas were in the compound." A Brickhall spokeswoman said.

Two AH-1Ws attacked the compound near the border, followed by troops from the 2nd Mountain Division storming the collection of structures. Citizen-Soldiers on the scene confirmed that the compound was "armed to the teeth".

"Battle Rifles, MANPADs, IEDs, LMGs, a cornucorpia of weapons." One Citizen-soldier said.

National Defense 3-year Procurement Plan announced
Brickhall announced a plan to double the number of Leopard 2A6s in the army's inventory, purchase 170 BM-21 systems, increase the F-22 inventory to 65, and to purchase 4 new Astute class SSNs, in the most stunning example of the differences between Lord Fairfax Lonestar and his predecessors.

"Unfortunately, we can hold our breath until we are blue in the face, but we'll never be able to bring enough troops to match Shepistan in a conflict." Marshal of the Dominion Reinsch said. "This procurement plan, to include the beginnings of communication satellites and a GPS network, will go a lot towards reversing the adverse correlation of forces."

[Vohu Manah]

Kun-lun Arcology, Most Serene Republic of Ninhursag

Upon entering my office I tossed my coat onto a nearby black leather couch. I stepped behind my desk and logged into my government provided computer. Upon waking from sleep I immediately sat down and checked my e-mail.

From / Subject / Date Received
• Prime Minister / New Cabinet Posts / Today
• Minister of Finance / FY2009 Preliminary Budget / Today
• Minister of Land, Infrastructure & Transport / Coast Guard Force Escalation Protocols / Today
• Minister of Justice / Fwd: Monthly Public Security Intelligence Reports / Today
• Minister of Defense / Fwd: Project Szilard Preliminary Report / Today
• Minister of Health, Welfare & Labor / Quarterly Report: New Medications / Today
• Ministry for the Environment / Environmental Impact Report: Arcology Site #7 / Today
• Minister of Economy, Trade & Industry / Trade Policy Reforms: Frequesue Region / Yesterday
• Minister for Foreign Affairs / Quarterly Foreign Affairs Report / Yesterday
• Minister of Education, Culture, Sports, Science & Technology / NET Program Report / Yesterday
• Minister of Agriculture, Forestry & Fisheries / Fwd: Wild fish quotas reset / Yesterday
• Minister of Internal Affairs & Communications / Post-Election Report Ready for Publication / Yesterday[/b]

I allowed my computer to return to sleep mode as I rubbed my eyes. I laid back in my chair looking towards the door to this office. As usual my desk was clean sans an optical disc sitting in a clear jewel case. I picked up the disc and examined it for a label but found none. On the sole phone on my desk I pressed the speaker button followed by the intercom button, following a beep, "Can I help you, Mr. President?" The voice was male, my current assistant Sergey Bahman.

"Did you leave any materials on my desk?" I asked.

"I received a delivery for you and placed it on your desk."

"No envelope of any kind?"

"No, Mr. President, nor did the messenger have any kind of return address."

"Thank you, Sergey." I turned the speaker off, ending the intercom.

'Strange,' I thought. I felt I knew the contents, but my mind wasn't concentrating hard on the matter. This wasn't official government material, but the contents were deemed appropriate enough to send a bonded messenger (as only bonded messengers were permitted into government areas within any arco). I only briefly debated loading the disc before simply tossing it aside.

I let out a brief sigh and began reading the reports I had received overnight.

[Setzer]

Sovereign Setzer had briefly retired to his office, before tonight's entertainment. A collection of thespians were performing Shakespeare's Macbeth for the Court, and he wanted to get the lingering matters out of the way so he could enjoy his favorite work of the Bard.
Most of the mundane affairs were quickly dealt with, but the correspondance with Shroomania merited a careful response. He'd been notified of a written reply earlier in the day, after an overenthusiastic Bloody Angel had mistaken the hand crafted rosewood box for a letter bomb. Mercifully, the bullet holes did not damage the missive itself.
Sincerest Salutations, Sovereign Setzer,"
Indeed, your letter finds me well, and I hope mine also finds you well as well. Yes. I have returned from a briefest vacation, and upon my return, I have reacquainted myself with the current situation at hand. Times are changing, and they may soon become interesting once again. "

I agree with you - in that no man is an island. We must bridge the gap between all nations, to begin mutually beneficial relations, or continue them, and to expand them. I too hope for the beginning of a long and profitable correspondence between us and our friends, in light of our nations' recent and longtime history of cooperation."

"We must discuss the details of our association as soon as possible, to secure ourselves in this New World, to reestablish a bond of Free Union between Nations with our friends and allies, and to ensure peace for all.

Thanks,
Shroom the 777th

Now, how to proceed.

To the Benevolent Prime Minister Shroom the 777th

We must not let the adversities of the colonial era continue to sunder our two nations. As of yet, Shroomania possesses no embassy in Sirnoth. I am sure this is due to the newness of our unique circumstances, rather then an intent to pursue methods other then diplomacy. Also, neutral territories for international business remain in short supply. If Sirnoth is to be one of many in this new brotherhood, it would behoove me to create a more permanent location for formal dialogues.

In the meantime, a meeting in Nexus City would suffice. If you can make time for a foreign vacation, I intend to show you all the hospitality my state can offer.