View Topic

Toronto  - December 22nd, 2015

The Carson family SUV pulled up at a North York park, covered in snow. Eight year old Lily saw that it was cloudy and she got excited. She always liked it when it was dark and cloudy. Immediately after the SUV parked and the sliding door rolled open, she quickly took off her seatbelt and zoomed out of the vehicle, much to her dad's dismay. After managing to catch up to her and giving strict orders to stay where he could see her, her dad left her to roam the park while he retired to a nearby bench. He pulled out a Coke and a tablet, while being vigilent to check up on his children every few minutes.

Lily ran around aimlessly, seemingly only with the purpose of exerting energy. Meanwhile her brother Dylan began playing with his Star Wars action figures in an open field, Lily occasionally coming by to try and pressure him to let her play, with increasing insistence as time went on. After a while, Lily harassed Dylan again. This time she wasn't going to take no for an answer. A fight broke out, forcing their dad to intervene.

"Dylan, Dylan! Stop yelling, I said stop yelling. Those are Lily's toys too, we bought those for both of you. if she wants to play with them, then let her play. No, I don't - I don't care if you think that she's a bad player.", her dad then glanced on Lily, and she was totally disinterested in the confrontation and staring off into the distance. Her dad thought for a moment that it could be her ADHD, but then he turned his gaze to what she was staring at: A dirty looking bearded man, coughing violently some benches away from his. How did he miss him? Was he always there or did he just walk up there and he didn't notice? His fingers were a sickly black, her dad initially thought it could be just that they were very dirty, but he didn't know. They almost looked too black. Now all three of them were looking at this peculiar man, coughing constantly and grotesquely.

"What's wrong with him, daddy?", Lily asked
"I don't... I don't know"

Her dad got up and shouted at the man, "Uh, hey! You alright?". The man removed his hand from his face and said with a deep, raspy voice "Uhhhh, Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Don't worry. Just the flu." But the dad saw something on his face now, it was a big, black circle on his left cheek with a red outline. The man kept coughing, while her dad dropped his coke on the snow. He told at the kids "We're gonna go now", he shoveled the action figures and grabbed both of them tightly to the SUV, ignoring their protests. Once they were all seated, the dad flipped out his Iphone and called somebody.

"Um, I'm here to report an individual with ECP. No, I don't know his name, but he's in Earl Baile Park. How do I know? He's coughing violently, both of his sets of fingers are... Uh, unnaturally black, and there's also a black circle on his face. Yeah, me and my family are both in our car, we're about to leave. There's no one else here, it's just him now."

Her dad then started up the SUV. Lily asked again "What was wrong with him?". "Welll... Lily... Um... He is very... Very sick. And he needs to go the hospital." The dad then turned toward the two kids and what they saw, they hadn't seen before and would never forget: A look of sheer terror etched on their father's face. He told them "Listen, if you see anybody like that, who's coughing all the time, who has black marks on them, get away from them immediately and tell mommy or daddy. They are very, very sick, and if they come anywhere near you, you'll become very, very sick too. You'll have to go the hospital, and you... Won't see me or mommy or your friends or your toys for a very long time and you don't want that. Do you guys understand?" They shook their heads in compliance, slightly spooked. "Okay", the dad said, turning back and making a deep breath. He then told the kids "So who wants something to eat?"

Saskatoon - December 22nd, 2032

Lily awoke with a loud gasp, feeling the saliva on her pillow. Lily was wide eyed and frightened, worsened by the darkness and deafening silence of her room. She tugged her wife's shoulder repeatedly, saying "Kate!" in a frantic voice over and over until Kate woke up. Kate awoke tired and annoyed, "What... What is it... Lily, Lily, what is it? What time is it?". Lily saw that Kate was irritated and told her in a somber voice: "Um... I had.. Uh... That dream again." Upon hearing that, Kate shot up fully awake: "Dream... What dream was it this time?"

"Um.... Uh... The fire dream", "Oh, I'm so sorry"

Lily was now on the verge of tears after "fire dream".  "They - They - they were just... Normal... People... They - They were just from - Just - Just from Ohio.... And they just... They just ignored -" Kate then embraced Lily, placing her hand behind her head. "Shh, shh, it's okay. The dream's over", but Lily was still clearly torn up. "They - They were crying, they were just pleading them to sto - To stop. Some of them were... Old, but they just continu - They... They didn't care. They didn't care. They didn't care."

The episode lasted 38 minutes. Once Lily was sufficiently calmed down, her face was red and she felt like collapsing. Kate was tired too, but they both glanced at the clock, which said 5:43 AM and knew they had no choice but to start their day.

Kate draped a red scarf around Lily's neck as she was about to go to work. "You think you're okay now?", "Oh, definitely! I'm fine now... Don't worry!". Lily then smiled at her. Lily then went out the door and told her "I love you", "I love you too" Kate responded. Lily left the building, stabbed in the face with harsh Prairie winds. She went into her beat up 2015 Hyundai sedan and put on a CD of a new experimental rock band she was trying out as she began her drive to work. On her drive, Lily was met with a variety of billboards, very rarely advertising brands, or services or companies. They advertised hope and ideals instead.

One was a picture of a little boy petting a cat, the Canadian flag behind the two while red words proclaimed: IT IS TIME TO REBUILD. She stopped at an intersection. A woman in a bright green uniform gave the traffic signals, while the actual lights were inactive and rusting. While waiting for the woman to OK her side, her attention turned toward a big billboard almost in front of her: It was a crowd of people, of different ethnicities and racial groups and all waving Canadian flags. Behind them was a blue sky dotted by puffy clouds. On their left was red, bold words which said:

WE ARE BUILDING A NEW WORLD

A NEW ECONOMY

A NEW WAY OF LIFE

A NEW CANADA

To their right was Prime Minister Leblanc in her signature gray turtleneck, offering a blank smile to the viewer. Something about this particular billboard unsettled Lily. She didn't know what. Something about those words, the blue sky, Leblanc staring at her, there was just a sinister aura to it that she didn't know how to explain. Before she could figure out what was unsettling about it, the traffic woman signaled green and she was back to her journey to work. Before she could finally park at her work, she had to pull to the side as a military convoy made its way to the border. She took this opportunity to check her social media on her phone.

Seneca, South Carolina, New Holy Confederation of America

Governor of Alabama Thad Braddock

"..SO I SAY TO YOU, MY FELLOW AMERICANS, NUCLEAR POWER NOW, NUCLEAR POWER TOMORROW, NUCLEAR POWER FOREVER!"

The crowd before him whipped itself into a cheering frenzy, screams of support so loud his next word were almost drowned out.

"I'M THADDEUS BEAUREGARD BRADDOCK AND I AM RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT OF THE HOLY CONFEDERATION OF AMERICA! THANK YOU SENECA!"

He waved as he stepped of the stage. The crowds cheers were almost deafening. Braddock spoke with a slow, quiet southern drawl but like all politicians knew how to whip a crowd with passion and energy. He was a 48 year old man, clean shaven with the kind of looks that just said "Hi, I'm in command and I know what I'm doing". He also was a former sheriff from Alabama, a state thankfully spared from the worst of the plague.   With his silky grey hair and wining smile the Governor had done well in the primaries and now looked to take the Presidency. Most pundits and, heck, most people knew that this man was probably going to be the next President. His platform was a winner and his opponent viewed as way to conservative, dull and cautious to even stand a chance. Braddock advocated for more Nuclear power (hence the visit to Seneca) a huge revitalization of industry and more social equality.

But his most popular platform was what definitely sealed the deal and what drew crowds to him. It was in his speech and his thoughts and he remembered the highlight of the event.

"...No longer will we be hurt by the negligent and incompetent rule of northern elites! No longer will other countries hurt and control us! No longer will we be known as weak and powerless! We must, We shall, We will build a new country for ourselves, a new superpower, a new great golden city shining on the hill to the rest of the world to see our greatness and strength. Never again will we be the underdogs! Never again will we be weak! NEVER AGAIN WILL WE HURT! NEVER AGAIN!"

A popular sentiment. A winning sentiment. A sentiment that will decide the fate of the New Confederation forever.

Volgograd City, Volgograd Oblast, Volga Federation.

Marshal Dimitri Tsabrov

Tsabrov looked over the large group gathered, and nodded. "With these I shall raise our land from the ashes of the old regime" He thought to himself. Clearing his throat, he addressed HIS crowd.
"Товарищи! You have chosen me to rule this nation, you have TRUSTED me with this great nation that we shall create! The people will rise from this terrible tragedy for life, and we shall bring pride back to the name of the Russian people. Old Russia was larger than us, that is true, but one does not need to be large to be STRONG! You have chosen and trusted me to bring us to the forefront of the world, and this is the very thing I shall promise to you. ЗА ВОЛГУ!" Tsabrov raised his arms to end his speech, and the roaring crowd brought with it the ending result to what he had planned. The people trusted him, and that is what he needed to build the nation he envisioned.

Strength, Power, and equality. Thus are the values of the Volga, thus are the basis of the regime that shall rise the Russian people to the world stage once more. 

22nd December, 2032 - Vladivostok, Transamur Republic

Leonid Yakovlev sat there in the dining room awaiting the rations to come in. The government was playing an old recording of the "Autumn Dream" waltz by Archibald Joyce. Leonid was a citizen of Transamur and barely remembered the events that changed the world. Transamur declared its independence in January 2020, coinciding with the anniversary of the beginning of the Great Siberian Ice March. The 2020s were difficult for the country: a lack of funds, resources, and development caused much suffering among the Transamurians. Last year when he was 21, he got chosen into the Civilian Corps and was promptly thrust into a training camp learning a multitude of things such as engineering and rifle training.

But by 2032, Transamur had stabilised, and experienced its first year of economic growth, albeit it being a tiny growth. Food diversity was still an issue, and the industry in Transamur was lacking, but the nation could finally call itself a modern nation.

Soon, the government announcer came on.

"Zdravstvuyte tovarishchi. The biweekly food rations are being announced. Your stamp books will be available to you this afternoon at your nearest rations office."

The message repeated for a few times until continuing.

"For fish rations: Government officials - 20 points, Scientists - 15 points, Government workers - 12 points, Civilian Corps - 10 points..."

And the list went on and on, and Leonid would record his points even though a ration book would be provided. He would spend the rest of the morning eating breakfast with the remaining rations he had from the previous fortnight and deciding on a plan on how to handle his points and divide it evenly between each day. Then, Leonid would go to work.

Leonid's life would be similar to the other citizens of the nation that is known as Transamur. While not much of economic noteworthiness, the Transamurian people were more than ready to tackle on the century's problems. Its military held a firm grasp on the Trans-Siberian, the Admiralty ready to take on threats from the sea, and a new Prime Minister to lead the nation to turn from a sparsely developed nation to an economic powerhouse that would prove the Heartland theory.

Ottawa - 7:49 AM

December 22nd 2032

Leblanc was in self denial. Not that she was actively refuting what was before her, but a sort of unconscious, uncontrollable self denial. What your mind does when you can't handle the information before you and so your mind merely acts as if what you are seeing is false, for no reason other than pure refusal to consider the ramifications of what is before you "if" it's real.

Food supplies were hitting severe levels. A shockingly bad harvest in September already spelled bad news for the winter, and now they were seeing the effects. Large regions of the country were dealing with "severely few food supplies" and more worryingly, some were reporting "no food supplies". If the situation doesn't improve very soon, there was going to be reports of malnutrition and eventually, deaths.

Leblancs rule was always an unpredictable and unstable one. Installed into power after the 2028 Revolution, Leblanc was Canada's first democratically elected leader since declaration of martial law in 2020. She won on a campaign emphasizing left wing nationalism, democratic socialism, fighting back against authoritarianism, and rebuilding Canadian society from the heavy devastation and trauma brought by the plague and death of nearly 15 million countrymen. Leblanc had to rebuild the Canadian government from the bottom up, provincial administrations needed to be established, a proper constitution needed to be drafted, an entire parliament needed to be elected. This created an era of instability, corruption, and internal political tensions as competing political factions and opportunists wrestled for a place in post-outbreak Canada, sometimes through force.

However by 2032, things were finally starting to settle, Canada was beginning to function as it did in 2015, except economically. Great depopulation coupled with food imports from America and Western Europe being cut off, Canada was prone to famine. The famines at this point were fairly mild, but the current one has been getting out of control at a rapid pace. Canada could see malnutrition reach levels never before seen by mid-2033.

The only major exporter of agricultural products to Canada has been the ALU but they were far from enough to meet Canada's import needs for the winter. Canada needed economic aid fast.

Announcement of interests in mutual aid

In the face of both worsening famine in the Republic of Canada and electricity shortages in the American Lakes Union, it is become increasingly apparent that the damages to the economy and infrastructure are too great for the two nations to properly function by themselves. Though economic trade has grown between the Republic of Canada and the American Lakes Union over the past years, it has been largely informal, without any serious intentions of establishing deeper diplomatic and economic ties by either government. The Republic if Canada wishes to broaden the level of political and economic cooperation between the two states, to the point of mutual diplomatic recognition and mutual economic assistance to aid the current infrastructural and economic issues felt by the people of our two nations.

The latter problem can be solved by the Republic of Canada significantly increasing it's energy exports to the American Lakes Union, while the American Lakes Union can significantly increase agricultural exports to the Republic of Canada. Thus creating a partnership of mutual aid and friendship. As January approaches, the worst of winter is rapidly approaching and this could prove deadly for the populations of of our two nations if some sort of aid agreement isn't established quickly.

Prime Minister Amelie Leblanc invites the leadership of the American Lakes Union to Ottawa so that a proper discussion of the terms of diplomatic recognition and mutual aid may be launched.

Elliott Fitzgerald

Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Republic of Canada

Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

President Of The Confederation Thad Braddock

Thad Braddock sat in the Presidential office. It felt right....it felt good..... he leaned back into the chair and smiled. Finally...

His Secretary of State, Peter Vanderlay, the Leader of The Confederate Diet, Jennifer Prescott, his Vice President, Gregory Mendoza and the head of the Church of America, Vox Populi Wallace Danforth were led into the office on his instructions. The Secretary, a old, stubborn man who's face looked as if it was melting off his face, spoke first with his typical meandering drawl.

"Good afternoon, Mr President. I presume you wish to speak about our Uranium problem?"

Braddock slowly nodded as he got up. "Yes, thats right. Our current source, the mines of Australia, are simply to far and expensive to be used long term. We need a new source of Uranium. And we all know the closest and largest source."

Vice President Mendoza, a younger and more energetic populist than Braddock, nodded. "Saskatoon."

Everyone smiled. "Yes, my dear running mate, Saskatoon. The Uranium mines there accounted for 18 percent of the worlds Uranium just 30 years ago. Hopefully, the Canadians and us can come to an arrangement. We have something they want, they have something we want. Peter, can you send them a communique?"

Peter nodded and left the room. Prescott, a prissy and well dressed woman, stepped forward. "Now, what about Kentucky? You know we need it."

Braddock nodded. "I know. Once we deal with the Canadians, Kentucky and the push to Mexico City come next. Dont worry. One step at a time."

They all nodded and left the room. Within an hour, a message was delivered to the Canadian Government.

"To: Government of the Republic of Canada
From: Office of the President of the New Holy Confederation of America Thaddeus Beauregard Braddock

Hello, my Canadian friends, I hope this message finds you well! On behalf of the NHCA I want to wish you all a Merry (if early) Christmas. I hope you do not mind me reaching out like this but the Government of the Confederation and myself want to, hopefully, begin a trade mission between our two countries, perhaps even an exchange of Ambassadors if that is agreeable! Down here in the fertile lands of Dixie we grow and raise lots of fresh produce and livestock, the fields of wheat always healthy and the harvest strong while our cattle ranchers produce fresh, pasteurized milk and delectable beef, lamb and chicken meat fit for a king. I'm even told that the Atlanta Cattle Corporation is experimenting on raising a new animal, a 'beefalo' I believe its called? I must confess, when I tasted a sample of this amazing meat it was heavenly. We wish to trade the generous bounty of our lands with the generous bounty of yours. I hope such a trade deal might be agreeable to you and that this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship between our two peoples.

Thank You and Merry Christmas,
Thad Braddock"

22nd of December, 2032 - Somewhere among the Trans-Siberian Railroad

Mstislav Stefan Ott was a general in the Transamurian Army, specifically leading the Transamurian Armoured Train Corps, albeit the nation not actually having any armoured trains. Instead, the nation made use of existing Russian trains to travel across Siberia, securing vital connections necessary for the survival of the young nation. He sat there within what could be considered the flagship of Transamur's military-owned trains in front of an antique wooden desk, arranged against the window where he could see the scenery pass by.

Mstislav was a relatively young general, but his service proved his ability to lead. He was the one who suggested to make use of the Trans-Siberian railroad to establish Transamur. Soon after, high command promoted him to a general and put him in command of the operations. His effective leadership managed to extend Transamur's borders to beyond Irkutsk, secure the electrification of the line, and secure the cities and towns alongside the railroad

Now, he spent his time patrolling what has already been secured. However, he knew the job was not finished. In order for the Transamur to be successful in the future, it needed a massive overhaul in infrastructure no matter the cost. He was no economist but the time between each location had to be shortened to quicken the transfer of goods and services. Mstislav has constantly requested for upgrading to high-speed and the expansion of the existing network. With this, Transamur could quickly develop Siberia. But all Mstislav received back was that Parliament would consider it.

For now, Mstislav will have to make do with protecting the railroad from those who seek to raid and sabotage it. Already, several freight trains were raided by all various sorts of people. It was his Corps' job to stop these and prevent more from happening.

After pondering these thoughts, his aide de camp came in and announced, "General Ott, we have almost arrived in Irkutsk."

Mstislav nodded in acknowledgment as he took a sip of his tea. "Very good, tell the troops that we will rest at Irkutsk for a couple of days, and we will make move across the Trans-Siberian once more."

The aide de camp soluted and soon left. Mstislav sighed. The events of the 2010s and 2020s were tiring, but he was doing what was necessary. He opened up the book on the desk and began writing the events of this trip.

Transamurian Government District, Vladisvostok, Transamur

Prime Minister Germogen Svyatoslav Mikhailov heard the snow crunch under his boots, the chill air blowing off his trench coat. He was touring the government district that was under construction alongside the aging Grand Admiral Sergei Avakyants. The project began to be planned at the end of his predecessor's term and entered construction phase under Germogen's. The district would begin a new era of architecture for Transamur, with contemporary Transamurian architecture (largely based on Russian contemporary architecture) with a splash of Baroque. So far the results were splendid, and the government would be able to be firmly established.

"Even in these times of troubles, Vladivostok has come a long way from when it was first established," mused the Admiral as they walked the district's newly lit streets.

Germogen replied, "Yes, this will be a great event to mark our rule. A beginning of a new era perhaps. An era where Transamur and therefore Siberia will have its place on the world stage."

The admiral smiled. "I trust that you will lead us into this era, Germogen."

"But you are the Head of State as Grand Admiral, no? Will you not help?"

"Germogen my comrade, I have been helping ever since the creation of Transamur. I have done what is necessary. You may not have noticed, but I have slowly decreased the use of my powers. The nation simply has not had the need for such. But anyhow, I do not know what my successor will do."

"You seek to retire?"

Sergei nodded. The duo was silent until they reached the grounds of the new Parliamentary building. The building was at the centre of a rectangular piece of land. Surrounding the building was what people could consider a park. In front of what would be named the Transamur Parliamentary Palace, stood the Parliamentary Pavilion. Both were made with the ideals of contemporary architecture. Unique shapes and a mixture of white and glass, with colour splashed around formed two magnificent structures.  It would truly be worthy of a UNESCO World Heritage Site if the organisation still existed.

As the two walked past the pavilion and towards the grand entrance of the Transamur Parliamentary Palace, the Grand Admiral asked, "How much did the government spend on such wonders?"

"Well. Money became basically nonexistant with the collapse of the world economy, to say the least. Money used to be based on the word of the US government, which we don't know that it exists or not. While we have a reserve of precious metals such as gold and silver, we mostly keep it to help us with other nations. All we did was give more rations to them."

"I see. That does explain a lot."

They reached the bottom of a staircase and climbed to the top. On the sides of the staircase were two statues, both Russian cosmonauts. One was Yuri Gagarin and the other was Valentina Tereshkova. Directly in front of them in the centre was a large fountain with a statue of Peter the Great. They stood in awe and soon entered the building.

As they explored the interior, the Prime Minister and the Admiral were very impressed. The planners did a great job combining both contemporary Transamurian architecture and bits of Baroque. The building's main sights were the two most important rooms in Transamur: the Transamur Senate, and the Transamur Duma. The Senate was situated on the left of the building while the Duma was situated on the right. Both chambers were rather large for the size of the current government.

The Duma chambers were arched and centred around a centre stage with a podium and a few seats behind the podium. A desk was directly in front of the podium which was the seat of the Prime Minister. The arched seating and desks around the centre were still under construction. A similar setup was in the Senate chamber, except the desk being for whoever would be the Senatorial leader. Also, there was a seat so the Head of State could observe its proceedings.

"Very impressive chambers here. I assume the largeness of the chambers are in case our territory is expanded," said the admiral.

"You would be correct in your assumption." The two made their way to the back entrance of the building. As the doors opened, a nice breeze flowed inside and they could see it was snowing again. As they walked towards the staircase leading to the other side of the parliamentary park, they could see the rest of the government buildings which included the Head of State's residency, the Prime Minister's residency, the Transamur Court Building, and a few others. Many lots were empty and reserved for future construction projects. Some of the rest of Vladivostok could also be seen, with a festive air due to the Christmas lights.

The admiral stated as they walked towards the back entrance of the parliamentary grounds, "It is finally good to have Transamur firmly established now with this historic building project."

Mikhailov agreed. "Now we can finally consider what I think is the more important things such as the economy. We cannot continue with our current economic condition. We need to become self-reliant and make enough food to end demand. But the time for that is next year." The two approached the street and Mikhailov turned towards the admiral. "I wish you a good holiday season admiral."

"You too prime minister." Soon, two cars came to pick them up.

Volgograd City, Volgograd Oblast, Volga Federation.

Marshal Dimitri Tsabrov

The Marshal sat and looked out his window at the statue in the distance. The Motherland Calls, what a sight. The largest statue of a woman in the world, and once the largest statue in general. Built by Russians. "I shall build up this region just as the sculptors build this masterpiece." Tsabrov thought to himself. Suddenly some men in Uniforms walked in.
"Здравствуйте товарищ Маршал!" Both exclaimed and saluted.
"Please, no need for such formalities товарищи, please sit." The Marshal said charismatically.
The two men sat down, and both looked much more relaxed then when they had entered. The Marshal swiveled in his chair to face them. "So what do you have for me so far?" The Marshal asked the generals.
One turned to the other and said, "Well, for starters there are nations arising in North America, though their pow-" then Marshal interrupted.
 "I care not what goes on in the Americas, nuclear arsenals have been wasted and they are too far away for us to have any concern, what else?"
Shaking once more, the other man responded. "A nation has sprouted in the far east of Siberia tovarisch, I believe they are utilizing the Trans-Siberian railroad to declare their borders." With this news Tsabrov stroked his beard. "Keep an eye on this nation, they could end up as either a powerful ally, or troublesome opponent."
At this, the Marshal waved the generals away and once again contemplated. Russia has the means to become a powerful military power, but they must gain solid infrastructure first. The Uralvagonzavod factories will remain silent, for now. Engineers had already scouted out and reclaimed much of the technical data for the most modern vehicles, but food shall take precedent. Marshal Tsabrov leaned back and thought aloud, speaking to the land itself. "All in due time, glorious Volga, all in due time."

Rural Northern Ohio - 7:23 PM
December 22, 2032

Luke Collins had just finished clearing the driveway when the truck arrived. The weather had been unusually snowy and it was still coming down, so the sudden sight of bright headlights blasting through the dark clouds of snowflakes was startling. However, Luke saw the lights on top and large ALU logo on the side of the white truck and was relieved. He knew immediately who this unexpected visitor was. Sheriff Jack Morgan, a local political figure, an important ALU partner, and something of a family friend. The car stopped in the middle of the driveway, and the parka-clad police officer stepped out.
“Luke!” He yelled over the wind in a jovial tone as he adjusted his large hat. “How’s it going, kid!”
“Cold!” Luke shouted back with a grin. “I was just wrapping up here, let’s get inside!”

The two burst through the wreath-clad front door into the warm house. Luke’s father, Arnold Collins, sat at the table, fidgeting with his laptop, no doubt fuming against the always temperamental satellite internet connection he relied on. A wood-burning furnace burned nearby, covering the Christmas tree and the small decorated room in a warm light and a pleasant smoky smell.
“Hey Dad,” Luke said, hanging his hat and coat on the door. “Sheriff Jack’s here!”
Arnold adjusted his thick glasses and smiled as he stood up. “Jack! Welcome in, it’s been a while. You must be freezing!”
“Pretty warm, actually. Almost too warm. We’ve finally managed to fix the damn heaters in our police rovers.”
The local police had been supplied with military surplus vehicles that the Union had acquired from various bloated ex-US military bases. They did their job well and had saved many a militia member and police officer’s life during firefights with gangsters and guerrillas, but the “non-essential” parts were very hard to find when they broke down .
Arnold laughed and nodded. “That’s good to hear. Well, If that’s the case, go and get us a couple of beers from the fridge, Luke. And maybe some hot cocoa or something for yourself.”
“Okay. Be right back.”

Luke grabbed a flashlight and went down into the house’s cellar to get what his father had asked. He could hear the entire conversation echo down from above through the air vents, right through the wooden door. Luke didn’t like to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it.
“Actually, Arnold, I don’t think I’ll be staying very long. You see, the Union office in Cleveland sent me here. On superregional business.”
“Lakes Union business, huh?” A rhetorical question. Arnold seemed more annoyed than surprised. “This close to the holidays?”
“They told me it was urgent. Came over the radio, actually. Went through all the trouble to do that.”
The bottles clinked together as Luke drew them from the fridge. He noticed that there had just been a long moment of silence.
“Look, I’m just gonna spare us some pain and cut to the chase. They know who you were. They told me all about it, I got their dossier right here. They told me that they want you to work for them, for the Air Commission. And, honestly, I think I agree with them, Arnold. You’re United States Air Force, after all, and you aren’t just some five-dollar airman or weekend warrior. You have the skills to fix this up for us.”

Luke winced. A bad subject to broach. He knew his dad didn’t like talking about his veteran days.
“If they really told you all about it,” Arnold replied, his voice suddenly low and furious, “they would have told you about all the things we did too. Like what we did to Chatham. And they would have told you that’s why I am happily former United States Air Force now.”
Sheriff Jack replied with exasperation. “Oh, come on. Chatham is ancient history, Arnold.” Footsteps from above. One of them was pacing. “Look at the future. A month ago, they got O’Hare running. Small flights are going in and out of Canada and across the ALU like nobody’s business, and they’re thinking of getting those bigger planes up and running. Last week, they took Fargo and all the fighters at the ANG base up there. They took Wright-Patt back from the Buckeyes just the other day. Lost five Peacemakers and three Ohio National Guardsmen in the siege. All for some airplane parts and a few square miles of nicer-than-usual concrete. Do you think they’re just messing around here?”
Arnold sighed. “I don’t give a damn what the Union does with the air. All I want is for them to just leave me out of it, and I don’t want to hear from them about it again.”
He put his hands up.
“Alright. I’ll tell them that. I just think it’s a big mistake, and they’re not gonna like your answer. Just think about it-“
“I have.”
“No, Arnold,” Sheriff Jack said insistently. “I mean really think about it. You have a lot to gain from doing this. People will forget all about Chatham and the whole ECP shitstorm. You’ll be written into the history books as a hero. Imagine it: the man who rebuilt our air from scratch, Peacemaker Colonel Arnold Collins.”
“I’m not a hero, Jack,” Arnold said solemnly. “I hate myself. I can’t sleep at night. When I do get sleep, I have nightmares. I can barely bring myself to look anyone in the eye anymore, not even my family. Is that what a hero feels like?”
“Maybe if you decided to use your skills to help others now instead of mourning the past,” Jack replied calmly, “you would sleep much better.” He began pacing again. “Even if it won’t help your peace of mind, think about the rewards! The ALU alone will probably be willing to pay you millions for your work, not to mention all you stand to gain with business and trade deals. I see you’re not doing too badly for yourself here, but imagine living in a high-class apartment in downtown Chicago, and having lake houses in the Upper Peninsula you and your family and friends could enjoy every summer, away from the crowd and far from every worry. You could find a decent therapist for yourself and get some help, your wife would be able to run that charity like she used to again, and maybe we could even find a world-class school up there for Luke to go to, with tuition and everything else paid for...”

With a louder footstep that usual, Luke appeared in the doorway nearby, and both Arnold and Jake turned to look at him. Luke nearly jumped out of his skin. The previous warm and friendly air of the room had turned cold and bitter. Arnold and Sheriff Jack looked like they were about to go at each other’s throats. And now he was the center of attention.
“Hey, speak of the devil.” Sheriff Jack stood up and faced Luke. “Say, Luke, how do you feel about Chicago?”
Luke swallowed. His dad was staring right at him. “I, uh, dunno. I’ve never been there before. I like the Bears, I guess.”
He chuckled and gave Luke a pat on the back. “That’s a smart answer. I bet you do well in school, don’t ya?”
Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a bottle from Luke’s hands and inspected it. “Hmm. Craft, nice stuff. Thanks, but I’m not thirsty right now. I’ll drink this when I get home, I think.” He sighed and put his wide-brimmed hat back on. “It’s time for me to go anyways. Got a busy few days before I’m off work. You all take care, and tell Teresa I said hello. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Jack. Drive safe.”

Luke and Arnold watched in silence as Sheriff Jack departed, driving off into the near-blizzard. Finally, once the Humvee rumbled out of sight beyond the distant plastic mailbox, Arnold cracked open his beer and went back to reading some report on his computer. Luke poured some water to make hot chocolate in the microwave nearby.
“So, uh,” Luke began after some time. “What was that all about?”
Arnold sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Luke looked at his dad for a moment with concern. “He asked you about your Air Force days, didn’t he?”
“I said don’t worry about it, Luke,” he snapped back.
He nodded and walked away. “Alright, dad. Sorry.”

The snow continued coming down. A staticky television in the other room broadcasted that it was only going to get worse as the holidays approached.
Good weather for snowboarding, Luke thought to himself as he listened and sipped on some cocoa. I wonder if anyone will want to go out when it clears up...

Ottawa - 7:49 AM December 22nd 2032

Announcement of interests in mutual aid
In the face of both worsening famine in the Republic of Canada and electricity shortages in the American Lakes Union, it is become increasingly apparent that the damages to the economy and infrastructure are too great for the two nations to properly function by themselves. Though economic trade has grown between the Republic of Canada and the American Lakes Union over the past years, it has been largely informal, without any serious intentions of establishing deeper diplomatic and economic ties by either government. The Republic if Canada wishes to broaden the level of political and economic cooperation between the two states, to the point of mutual diplomatic recognition and mutual economic assistance to aid the current infrastructural and economic issues felt by the people of our two nations.

The latter problem can be solved by the Republic of Canada significantly increasing it's energy exports to the American Lakes Union, while the American Lakes Union can significantly increase agricultural exports to the Republic of Canada. Thus creating a partnership of mutual aid and friendship. As January approaches, the worst of winter is rapidly approaching and this could prove deadly for the populations of of our two nations if some sort of aid agreement isn't established quickly.

Prime Minister Amelie Leblanc invites the leadership of the American Lakes Union to Ottawa so that a proper discussion of the terms of diplomatic recognition and mutual aid may be launched.

Elliott Fitzgerald

Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Republic of Canada

This was a moment that the American Lakes Union Arbitration Council was dreading. They weren’t dreading dealing with Canadians, of course. Your average Union official liked Canadians more than they liked most other former Americans. Informal trading and communications had been going on for as long as the ECP crisis allowed, and the regional ties existed generations before even that. It wouldn’t be a horrible thing to let trade across the lakes happen without the permission of the federal government, since it wasn’t returning their calls. However, the Canadian government was now asking for more than that: a formal economic alliance and a concerted effort on the part of the Union to relieve the food shortages that Canada was starting to suffer. The potential trade deal sounded attractive, especially since Chicago and Detroit were starved for electricity and fuel during a very power-critical time of year, but the Union simply didn’t know whether it was in their place to make these arrangements or not. A few members of the Council believed that they should hold off and make another attempt to get word from Washington before doing something like this, but most members realized that the practicality of the situation and the fact that the Canadian government was calling for help from the American Lakes Union by name, meant that Canada recognized them as an independent authority, over the former US federal government and still-existing state governments. So, they should act like they were independent and authoritative and send some representatives to Canada to discuss the specifics.
From a duty standpoint, they realized that Canadians stood to starve and city-dwellers stood to freeze to death if nothing along this front happened. They had an obligation to make sure nothing like that happened.

A RSVP was sent via radio, and several ALU officers were packed aboard a small plane and sent towards Ottawa. Leading the expedition was Dr. Ethan Reider as the head of the newly-appointed International Affairs Commission, along with several aides and other policy experts. Hopefully, they could make the arrangements in time for a Christmas morning airlift. That would be poetic.

Saskatoon - 7:13 PM

12 hours of work had passed. Lily returned to her apartment exhausted physcially, mentally and emotionally. Though the return of factory work once lost to China and expensive foreign technology resulted in a boom of work, it was accompanied by heavily relaxed or ignored worker's rights and safety laws. Lily's factory was an example of this, where employees are regularly forced to do overtime, where workers and their families do not enjoy compensation for egregious accidents that in Pre-Outbreak Canada would be enough to send some employers to prison and where workers are expected to achieve and exceed unnecessarily high productivity quotas in order to generate as much profit for their work as humanly possible.

Lily couldn't look back at her work day. It was all one big blur that brings back migraines as well as memories of constant yelling, beratement, loud machinery and the ever present feeling that she was literally being worked to death. Now that she was in her home, she could finally feel some sense of freedom and individuality. Her wife wasn't home yet and wouldn't expect her to be for about another thirty minutes. Lily needed some escape from the thoughts in her head. She grabbed some alcohol and turned to the internet, as she typically does. Though all she wanted to do was try to find some escape from her life, her mind reminded her that she'd been meaning to read up on some Communist materials that she had been beating herself up for the past couple of weeks to get started on. She pulled up a Far-Left library which archived a wide variety of left wing resources in easy to access PDFs from Marx to Bakunin to Kropotkin to Goldman.

Let us, be practical. We want something practical.

Always the cry of humdrum mediocrity, afraid to face the stern necessity for uncompromising action. That saying has done more yeoman service in the cause of oppression than all its avowed supporters.

The average man dislikes to be thought unpractical and so, while, frequently loathing the principles or distrusting the leaders of the particular political party, he is associated with, declines to leave them, in the hope that their very lack of earnestness may be more fruitful of practical results than the honest outspokenness of the party in whose principles he does believe,

In the phraseology of politics, a party, too indifferent to the sorrow and sufferings of humanity to raise its voice in protest, is a moderate, practical party; whilst a party totally indifferent to the personality of, leaders, or questions of leadership, but hot to enthusiasm on every question affecting the well-being of the toiling masses, is an extreme, a dangerous party.

Yet, although it may seem a paradox to say so, there is no party so incapable of achieving practical results, as an orthodox, political party; and there is no party so certain of placing moderate reforms to its credit as an extreme revolutionary party. The possessing class will and do laugh to scorn every scheme for the amelioration of the workers so long as those responsible for the initiation of the scheme admit as justifiable the, “rights of property”; but when the, public attention is directed toward questioning the justifiable, nature of those “rights” in themselves, then the master class, alarmed for the safety of their booty, yield reform after reform – in order to prevent revolution.

Moral – Don’t be “practical” in politics. To be practical in that sense, means that you have, schooled yourself, to think along, the lines and, in the grooves which those, who rob you would desire you to think.


That was written by one James Connoly, Irish socialist revolutionary. Lily's Irish and Christian Socialist friends always seemed to have a knack for Mr. Connoly and she was fairly fond of him too. Lily thought to herself how it could as easily have been written in 2031. It was written in 1909.

However, reading bored her. Lily was never one for reading, though she fully understood it was important and tried to force herself to do so, her ADHD be damned. She felt a need for constant stimuli, audio, imagery, obviously books provided none of these. Drifting off into boredom and sort of drunk at that point, Lily opened up a new tab and typed in a social media website.

Professional-Trashcanburner: HEY LUKE
Professional-Trashcanburner: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5iAIM02kv0g
Professional-Trashcanburner: i really, //really// need to learn the banjo
Professional-Trashcanburner: like, to carry out revolutionary purposes
Professional-Trashcanburner: via banjo

Saskatoon - 7:13 PM

-snip-

12 hours of work had passed. Lily returned to her apartment exhausted physcially, mentally and emotionally. Though the return of factory work once lost to China and expensive foreign technology resulted in a boom of work, it was accompanied by heavily relaxed or ignored worker's rights and safety laws. Lily's factory was an example of this, where employees are regularly forced to do overtime, where workers and their families do not enjoy compensation for egregious accidents that in Pre-Outbreak Canada would be enough to send some employers to prison and where workers are expected to achieve and exceed unnecessarily high productivity quotas in order to generate as much profit for their work as humanly possible.

Lily couldn't look back at her work day. It was all one big blur that brings back migraines as well as memories of constant yelling, beratement, loud machinery and the ever present feeling that she was literally being worked to death. Now that she was in her home, she could finally feel some sense of freedom and individuality. Her wife wasn't home yet and wouldn't expect her to be for about another thirty minutes. Lily needed some escape from the thoughts in her head. She grabbed some alcohol and turned to the internet, as she typically does. Though all she wanted to do was try to find some escape from her life, her mind reminded her that she'd been meaning to read up on some Communist materials that she had been beating herself up for the past couple of weeks to get started on. She pulled up a Far-Left library which archived a wide variety of left wing resources in easy to access PDFs from Marx to Bakunin to Kropotkin to Goldman.

Let us, be practical. We want something practical.

Always the cry of humdrum mediocrity, afraid to face the stern necessity for uncompromising action. That saying has done more yeoman service in the cause of oppression than all its avowed supporters.

The average man dislikes to be thought unpractical and so, while, frequently loathing the principles or distrusting the leaders of the particular political party, he is associated with, declines to leave them, in the hope that their very lack of earnestness may be more fruitful of practical results than the honest outspokenness of the party in whose principles he does believe,

In the phraseology of politics, a party, too indifferent to the sorrow and sufferings of humanity to raise its voice in protest, is a moderate, practical party; whilst a party totally indifferent to the personality of, leaders, or questions of leadership, but hot to enthusiasm on every question affecting the well-being of the toiling masses, is an extreme, a dangerous party.

Yet, although it may seem a paradox to say so, there is no party so incapable of achieving practical results, as an orthodox, political party; and there is no party so certain of placing moderate reforms to its credit as an extreme revolutionary party. The possessing class will and do laugh to scorn every scheme for the amelioration of the workers so long as those responsible for the initiation of the scheme admit as justifiable the, “rights of property”; but when the, public attention is directed toward questioning the justifiable, nature of those “rights” in themselves, then the master class, alarmed for the safety of their booty, yield reform after reform – in order to prevent revolution.

Moral – Don’t be “practical” in politics. To be practical in that sense, means that you have, schooled yourself, to think along, the lines and, in the grooves which those, who rob you would desire you to think.


That was written by one James Connoly, Irish socialist revolutionary. Lily's Irish and Christian Socialist friends always seemed to have a knack for Mr. Connoly and she was fairly fond of him too. Lily thought to herself how it could as easily have been written in 2031. It was written in 1909.

However, reading bored her. Lily was never one for reading, though she fully understood it was important and tried to force herself to do so, her ADHD be damned. She felt a need for constant stimuli, audio, imagery, obviously books provided none of these. Drifting off into boredom and sort of drunk at that point, Lily opened up a new tab and typed in a social media website.

Professional-Trashcanburner: HEY LUKE
Professional-Trashcanburner: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5iAIM02kv0g
Professional-Trashcanburner: i really, //really// need to learn the banjo
Professional-Trashcanburner: like, to carry out revolutionary purposes
Professional-Trashcanburner: via banjo

Luke happened to be on the computer during this time, recovering with a blanket from being the sole victim of a particularly hypothermic and soul-crushing snowball massacre, perpetrated by a roving gang of grade-schoolers that ambushed him from behind a dumpster. He would get the cowardly little turds back when they stopped by on Christmas Eve, somehow.

Luke typically didn't go on the internet: he had a Twitter and a Facebook he would update maybe once a week, like a digital houseplant. However, he did have an online gaming service on his computer. He mostly used it to download and play some games during the brief moments of good internet that the connection provided. Usually, it was stuff that could be enjoyed even without internet. However, when he could play games online, he could occasionally make friends. Lily, or as her screen name said, Professional-Trashcanburner, was one of those friends. In particular, she made Luke glad that nobody was keeping an eye on internet watchlists anymore, with her crazy political rants and just all-around leftism.

skywalker124: lmao
skywalker124: go for it
skywalker124: get one of those 'this machine kills fascists' stickers for it too
skywalker124: that'll scare big business off

Luke wasn't very politically educated, so his understanding of things like socialism and revolution were mostly colored either by fragments of political coverage by mildly conservative American media that survived both transmission and Luke's brain, or by events that were uncomfortably recent and uncomfortably close. Not to mention, if anything Luke was on the other side of that classist fence: his mother was technically a landowning capitalist, and his father was a corporate manager. However, Luke didn't seem to realize that or care at all, and he liked Lily's personality and talking to her was exciting and made him feel smart, so thus their friendship went.

Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

President Of The Confederation Thad Braddock

Thad Braddock sat in the Presidential office. It felt right....it felt good..... he leaned back into the chair and smiled. Finally...

His Secretary of State, Peter Vanderlay, the Leader of The Confederate Diet, Jennifer Prescott, his Vice President, Gregory Mendoza and the head of the Church of America, Vox Populi Wallace Danforth were led into the office on his instructions. The Secretary, a old, stubborn man who's face looked as if it was melting off his face, spoke first with his typical meandering drawl.

"Good afternoon, Mr President. I presume you wish to speak about our Uranium problem?"

Braddock slowly nodded as he got up. "Yes, thats right. Our current source, the mines of Australia, are simply to far and expensive to be used long term. We need a new source of Uranium. And we all know the closest and largest source."

Vice President Mendoza, a younger and more energetic populist than Braddock, nodded. "Saskatoon."

Everyone smiled. "Yes, my dear running mate, Saskatoon. The Uranium mines there accounted for 18 percent of the worlds Uranium just 30 years ago. Hopefully, the Canadians and us can come to an arrangement. We have something they want, they have something we want. Peter, can you send them a communique?"

Peter nodded and left the room. Prescott, a prissy and well dressed woman, stepped forward. "Now, what about Kentucky? You know we need it."

Braddock nodded. "I know. Once we deal with the Canadians, Kentucky and the push to Mexico City come next. Dont worry. One step at a time."

They all nodded and left the room. Within an hour, a message was delivered to the Canadian Government.

"To: Government of the Republic of Canada
From: Office of the President of the New Holy Confederation of America Thaddeus Beauregard Braddock

Hello, my Canadian friends, I hope this message finds you well! On behalf of the NHCA I want to wish you all a Merry (if early) Christmas. I hope you do not mind me reaching out like this but the Government of the Confederation and myself want to, hopefully, begin a trade mission between our two countries, perhaps even an exchange of Ambassadors if that is agreeable! Down here in the fertile lands of Dixie we grow and raise lots of fresh produce and livestock, the fields of wheat always healthy and the harvest strong while our cattle ranchers produce fresh, pasteurized milk and delectable beef, lamb and chicken meat fit for a king. I'm even told that the Atlanta Cattle Corporation is experimenting on raising a new animal, a 'beefalo' I believe its called? I must confess, when I tasted a sample of this amazing meat it was heavenly. We wish to trade the generous bounty of our lands with the generous bounty of yours. I hope such a trade deal might be agreeable to you and that this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship between our two peoples.

Thank You and Merry Christmas,
Thad Braddock"

Tell Braddock that the Canadian government politely declines its proposal. We arent desperate enough to get aid from North American ISIS

- Leblanc

The text was Leblanc's only official "response" to the proposal, not even considering merely debating the possibility of accepting it. But Fitzgerald was not one to pass up an opportunity. he relayed Braddock's message to Cameco in Saskatoon. They were enthusiastic to say the least.

Congratulations!

Dear President Thad Braddock

We here at Cameco send a warm congratulations to you for winning this year's elections. Your political platform was solid and reasonable, not the least being its support for renewable energies. Cameco is excited to see a NHCA administration so enthusiastic about renewable energies and nuclear power in particular. We all know that nuclear power is the only renewable power source that can efficiently handle the world's energy needs and we know of Global Warming and other troubling factors that encourage a rapid transition away from polluting energies such as coal and oil. As the leader of the NHCA you have a responsibility to aid your people in light of these issues and we are happy to see you are going with the right choice.

We are interested in sending an envoy to Corpus Christi so that we might discuss how Cameco might assist the good people of the NHCA in establishing nucleaer energy as their primary power source.

Jessica Hoffman

Representative for Cameco

Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada

Lily was more than drunk and was more invested in listening to Anarchist punk rock by the time Luke responded but she got herself to reply back

Professional-Trashcanburner: *slaps a "This machine kills fascists" sticker on my 100% electric 2033 Chevrolet Volt™*

Lily liked Luke. He was fairly mature for his age, to the point where she legitimately thought he was at least 18 until he found out his real age. He possessed a relatively decent moral compass, and with that, Lily hoped she could get her Leftist beliefs to rub off on him as what happened to her when she was around Luke's age.

Professional-Trashcanburner: but nah petes good
Professional-Trashcanburner: he was the only good american musician
Professional-Trashcanburner: until like new wave

Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

President Thad Braddock

"HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!" President Braddock was holding a newspaper, the headline in big, bold letters 'PRESIDENT FAILS IN NEGOTIATIONS WITH CANADA'. After a few seconds, he threw it at his desk. It bounced off and fluttered for a second before falling in front of Peter Vanderlay.

"With all due respect, Mr President, we did not fail. The corporation that owns the mines contacted us...." Peter was cut off by the President suddenly yelling.

"I DONT GIVE A DAMN, PETER! So what if that blasted corporation wants to do business? The Canadians can just block the deal anytime they want! Worse, that corporation will want money! Money! The whole point of buying from the fucking Canadians in the first place was that it would cheaper than the Australians!"

Peter spoke, not a single indicator of any discomfort on his face. "Sir, I find it very unwise to dismiss a deal when we have not even had a discussion on terms yet. Maybe this is the Canadian government's attempt to save face. After all, they are attempting to get closer with the ALU. Working publicly with us would definitely sour relations with them."

Braddock face turned to scorn. "What, those yahoo rust belt sodomites and their continuing delusion of 'rebuilding the union'." the contempt barely hidden as he spoke with air quotes. "Please. Even the Canadians must know that we have the better lands and better sciences. Plus, we have the better nuclear reactors."

Peter just slowly nodded. "True. But Canada isn't bordering us, are they. And not much chance of reconciliation between us and the ALU, is there?" Braddock turned to face Peter, his face dark, his tone cold. "After Antietam? Never in a million years." Peter nodded. "Then I suggest that we take the Canadians on their offer and invite Cameco representatives to Corpus Christi. Lets see where it goes and issue a statement calling that article false and misleading." Braddock waved his hand in agreement and picked up a folder on his desk. "And now onto the next order of business, one that falls under your area, Wallace."

Wallace Danforth, Vox Populi of the Church of America, dressed in his holy garb, stepped forward. "I have had talks with the Collage Of Cardinals. They have all agreed to support you Proclamation Of Confederate Infallibility. Under the eyes of God, the Confederation can do no wrong and will be entitled to do anything it wants. Weather other countries accept this or not is immaterial, the population will support the Confederation all the way after this." Braddock smiled. "Excellent. Any idea when it will pass?" Now, it was Wallace's turn to smile. "It passed 3 hours ago." Braddock closed his eyes, looked towards the heavens and nodded.

"Perfect. Now for the final order on the agenda. Something we have been waiting for a long time for. Kentucky. Are our agents in the Kentucky Senate ready?" Peter Vanderlay nodded as he slowly spoke. "Yes, they are. They have proposed asking to join the Confederation and so far the response has been positive. They will be expected to ask our troops to occupy Kentucky, as a peace keeping force of course, with the full invitation of the Kentucky government. After that, a Declaration of Annexation and Kentucky will become part of the family. And don't worry about the Governor or the State National Guard. The guard has agreed to stand down and the Governor can be dealt with if he refuses to co-operate."

Braddock smiled and sat down. "Deus Vult." With two words he would launch the Annexation of Kentucky. The population there loved the NHCA and mostly supported joining anyway. Within an hour, Confederate troops began marching towards the Kentucky border.

A confederate yankee in pope urban ii's court

Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

President Thad Braddock

"HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!" President Braddock was holding a newspaper, the headline in big, bold letters 'PRESIDENT FAILS IN NEGOTIATIONS WITH CANADA'. After a few seconds, he threw it at his desk. It bounced off and fluttered for a second before falling in front of Peter Vanderlay.

"With all due respect, Mr President, we did not fail. The corporation that owns the mines contacted us...." Peter was cut off by the President suddenly yelling.

"I DONT GIVE A DAMN, PETER! So what if that blasted corporation wants to do business? The Canadians can just block the deal anytime they want! Worse, that corporation will want money! Money! The whole point of buying from the fucking Canadians in the first place was that it would cheaper than the Australians!"

Peter spoke, not a single indicator of any discomfort on his face. "Sir, I find it very unwise to dismiss a deal when we have not even had a discussion on terms yet. Maybe this is the Canadian government's attempt to save face. After all, they are attempting to get closer with the ALU. Working publicly with us would definitely sour relations with them."

Braddock face turned to scorn. "What, those yahoo rust belt sodomites and their continuing delusion of 'rebuilding the union'." the contempt barely hidden as he spoke with air quotes. "Please. Even the Canadians must know that we have the better lands and better sciences. Plus, we have the better nuclear reactors."

Peter just slowly nodded. "True. But Canada isn't bordering us, are they. And not much chance of reconciliation between us and the ALU, is there?" Braddock turned to face Peter, his face dark, his tone cold. "After Antietam? Never in a million years." Peter nodded. "Then I suggest that we take the Canadians on their offer and invite Cameco representatives to Corpus Christi. Lets see where it goes and issue a statement calling that article false and misleading." Braddock waved his hand in agreement and picked up a folder on his desk. "And now onto the next order of business, one that falls under your area, Wallace."

Wallace Danforth, Vox Populi of the Church of America, dressed in his holy garb, stepped forward. "I have had talks with the Collage Of Cardinals. They have all agreed to support you Proclamation Of Confederate Infallibility. Under the eyes of God, the Confederation can do no wrong and will be entitled to do anything it wants. Weather other countries accept this or not is immaterial, the population will support the Confederation all the way after this." Braddock smiled. "Excellent. Any idea when it will pass?" Now, it was Wallace's turn to smile. "It passed 3 hours ago." Braddock closed his eyes, looked towards the heavens and nodded.

"Perfect. Now for the final order on the agenda. Something we have been waiting for a long time for. Kentucky. Are our agents in the Kentucky Senate ready?" Peter Vanderlay nodded as he slowly spoke. "Yes, they are. They have proposed asking to join the Confederation and so far the response has been positive. They will be expected to ask our troops to occupy Kentucky, as a peace keeping force of course, with the full invitation of the Kentucky government. After that, a Declaration of Annexation and Kentucky will become part of the family. And don't worry about the Governor or the State National Guard. The guard has agreed to stand down and the Governor can be dealt with if he refuses to co-operate."

Braddock smiled and sat down. "Deus Vult." With two words he would launch the Annexation of Kentucky. The population there loved the NHCA and mostly supported joining anyway. Within an hour, Confederate troops began marching towards the Kentucky border.

Cleveland, Ohio

"'Deus Vult'."

Regional Commissioner Jeff Gordon's words, echoing those of the so-called New Holy Confederation of America's president, echoed throughout the office that served as the headquarters for the American Lakes Union in the region. The space felt more like a warehouse than anything, vast and largely empty except for the open-air desks and cables scattered about, and a nice cozy reception area in the corner by the front door. The assistants and lower-level officers ducked their heads and continued on with their business, while the higher-ups perked up to listen, taking out their headphones for a moment.
"Deus fucking Vult." Commissioner Gordon was at his wit's end. He had been monitoring the situation in Kentucky for the past few days, mostly through gossip spread by business associates and whatever TV and radio signals they could reach, yet he still could not believe what he was witnessing. "The president of the strongest reverent of the old US is running around down south yelling 'Deus Vult', and somehow this means they get to take over Kentucky? Have they all lost their god damned minds!?"
A senior official spoke up. "We know. Look, it's pretty bad, but Kentucky voted-"
"They voted to dig their own graves," Gordon interjected. "And now all hell has broken loose. The governor of Indiana just called me to say that he was considering suspending civil liberties and mobilizing the national guard in response, Columbus is damn near in revolt—again—and every right-minded soul in Cincinnati is shitting his or her pants and begging for the whole Peacemaker force as reinforcements..."
"The militias in the area are more than sufficient," a security Commandant said. "We already secured important junctions and highway points. It's just a matter of reinforcing some of the surrounding hills."
"They want the bridges detonated," a young aide said nervously.
"What?" Commissioner Gordon barked back, causing him to flinch.
"T-The mayor just called. They want us to detonate the bridges across the Ohio river. Bailey, Spence, Combs-Hehl, all of it. They want to keep the Roebling bridge intact, but they want an armored division to guard it 24/7..."
"Tell them we'll think about it," replied the Commandant casually, causing the aide to start walking away.
"Think about it?" Gordon demanded angrily, causing the aide to shuffle back to listen. "Just think about it?"
"Sir, we don't want to make a hasty call on this one. We would be separating both businesses and loved ones from each other. The Confederates could even potentially view the demolitions as a provocation."
"What about the governor? Can't he veto this decision and mobilize the national guard?"
"That would definitely be seen as a provocation if the decision comes back to us," said the Commandant. "And you would have the governor fighting most of the state of Kentucky, if these polling numbers are to be believed. I would say it's possible, however, especially if they find evidence of fraud or something like that."
"Good. Let's call him to see where his mind is on this." Commissioner Gordon turned to the aide. "Call Detroit, let them know what we are trying to do. After that, call the governor's office in Frankfort. Hopefully he isn't hanging by a streetlight by the time the call goes through..."

A call was made from the ALU regional offices in Cleveland to the governor's office in Kentucky.

Frankfort, Kentucky

Governor Kurt Skutner

He was sitting at his desk in the Capital. In front of him were 3 people. Two Confederate 'Peacekeepers' in grey uniforms and his own Lieutenant Governor Seymour Inquart. In front of him was a letter of resignation. The Confederate troops had marched all the way to Frankfort while local crowds more or less cheered as they did. The population of Kentucky were either ecstatic or terrified and Kurt was in the second camp. This was the end. The Confederation would annex Kentucky in less than a week, Independence was over.

He looked to Inquart. "How could you do this, Seymour? How could you betray your people?" Inquart raised an eyebrow. "How could I? How could you, Kurt? How could you oppose the rightful rulers of Kentucky? Oppose the will of the people?" Kurt shook his head. "This is not the will of the people." Inquart chuckled as he walked to the window behind Kurt and opened the blinds.

Confederate troops marched in the street as a light rain fell and large crowds cheered and threw confetti beside them. Certain....undesirables were also in the scene. Hanging by their necks from streetlights, dead. More were being secured and hung, slowly, as the crowd, blind by a mixture of jubilation and fear, cheered as they swung. Priests, Imams, Pastors and Rabbis that had openly criticized the Church of America. The State Legislators, all 13 of them, that had voted against joining the Confederation. Whoever the Confederation had decided were traitors. All tried in a Kangaroo court and hung after a 'trial'. Inquart smiled. "Traitors and Heathens. Savages, barely even human." He looked to Kurt. "Tell me that isn't the will of the people. Tell me that the crowd would not be happy if this wasn't what they wanted. And tell me, Kurt, do you want to join the traitors?" Kurt paled in his seat. He sighed, picked up his pen and signed the Resignation letter. Inquart nodded. "Good boy. You will live. We will let you pack and let you take your car out of here. Got to the ALU, go to Washington, Canada, go to fucking Mars for all I care. Just go and never come back." The two soldiers grabbed Kurt and dragged him out of his office, taking him to his domicile.

Acting Governor Seymour Inquart

Seymour stood, stoic as Kurt was dragged away. Never liked that wishy-washy commie. He sat down in the chair vacated by Kurt and pressed the desk intercom. "Mrs. Marston, please bring in the Declaration." His first order of business was clear. He needed to ratify the request to join the Confederation. The Confederate Diet had already accepted the Invitation but Kurt had initially refused to sign it. No matter. A quick signature and the document was signed.

He was about to say something when he noticed that Mrs Marston was crying. He quickly got up and asked her "Oh, my dear Mrs Marston, what wrong? You should be happy! What's the matter?" Mrs Marston said, through tear stained sobs. "Its...its my hus...husband, sir. He...he's...he's Muslim and I'm afraid...." She was really turning on the waterworks now. Inquart cooed in an attempt to empathize and hugged her. "It's ok, Mrs Marston, it's ok, your husband will be fine. Nothing will happen to him because he's Muslim." Marston looked at Inquart, still sobbing but looking hopeful, as she said "R...Really?" Inquart nodded. "Yes, of course! After all, the Conversion to the Church of America is painless, just a sermon and a quick baptism. And no one judges anyone based on their previous religion. Many members of the Diet were Muslim, heck, I used to be Lutheran before I converted. Its quick and painless, so there is no need to worry about it, your husband will be fine once he converts." Marston's eyes widened as she realized what he meant. Everyone was welcome in the Confederation. Once, and only after, they converted. The message was clear. Convert or get out or.... she looked out the window to the hanging men. The message was very clear. She was brought back from her thoughts by Inquart's voice. "I hope I have assuaged your fears, my dear Mrs Marston. I would hate to lose you as my secretary." She nodded wordlessly and left the office.

Inquart watched her as she left. They would need to watch her. He really hoped, for her families sake, that her husband converted. But on to more pressing matters. He walked out onto the Governor's balcony. Once the crowd saw him and realized what that meant the cheers below got louder. So loud, his first words could barely be heard.

"DEUS VULT!"

Louisville, Kentucky, Border of Indiana and Kentucky, Kentucky border post 17, Clark Memorial Bridge

Sgt Martin Coombs, 7th Confederate Armored Cavalry

Sgt Coombs had been a veteran of the Confederate Army. Not saying much since the Confederate Army had never fought anyone, but still, he'd been in it for a while now. Never had he seen such a place of sin and debasement. Indiana. The American Lakes Union. They really were Heathens. Children of Sodom. The disgust in his gut was palatable. Godless freaks. He could see policemen or soldiers, guys in uniform, on the other side of the bridge. He had been given orders, simple orders really "Turn back all travelers in both directions until further notice. The border is closed." He scowled as he continued to look at the Sodomite on the other side of the bridge. He could not contain himself any longer. He had to say something. He turned to a private beside him. "Give me the bullhorn, Private." The private handed it over, a look of confusion on his face. Coombs went over to the APC he had arrived in and climbed to the top. He looked back towards Indiana. It looked even worse from on high. He could contain himself no longer. He put the bullhorn to his face, turned it on, and began shouting.

"HEATHENS! HERETICS! SODOMITES! REMEMBER ANTIETAM! DEUS VULT! DEUS VULT!"

He lowered the bullhorn, calmer than before. His men and a few civilians nearby began cheering, shouting at the Indianans as well. Coombs smiled.