A Brighter Tomorrow (Ask)

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Doren Vassyl
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Joined: Tue Sep 19, 2017 11:58 pm
Location: Jaemus, Obtrexta Sector

Re: A Brighter Tomorrow (Ask)

Post by Doren Vassyl » Thu May 23, 2019 5:38 am

Imperial Proclamation 1299-E10: It shall be known, from this day forward, that the city of Raskta is to be granted nominal and administrative status as the planetary capital of Eshan, effective immediately. Primary ministry offices will be redesignated and built over a period of six standard galactic months, at which point the new governor will be formally sworn in, and receive all the powers owed their station. Her Majesty understands this change may be jarring for the elders of the community, and wishes to make clear her intention to preserve the history of Yusanis. The former royal palace will henceforth serve as an exhibition hall, with all of the traditional ornaments maintained and restored for citizens and their progeny to enjoy. Similarly, while the ancient city will no longer serve in a political capacity, Yusanis will hereby be honored as the cultural capital of Eshan, and has been awarded the status of Galactic Heritage Site by the Imperial Travel Board. To this end, the Empress is most pleased to announce the grand opening Yusanis Housing Initiative, so that all of her subjects may know contentment and comfort. Be they longtime residents of migrant citizens, all are encouraged to apply with the Ministry of Infrastructure. Her Majesty’s Gifts are many, but this honor she extends to the loyal- chosen. It is well-warranted, and well earned.

Signed,
The Office of the SEIP…


“This way, honest folk!”, Propus directed with a sweep of his hand, leading a flock of dust-ridden Echani down below from atop a repulsorlift podium. It had taken weeks of gerrymandering, resource reallocation, and wheeling and dealing with other, less-generous Moffs- but at last, the facilities were ready. Shined, buffed, and stocked with hardy fixtures and fixings, the complex was an open hand to the homeless and low-end families that had been swept aside and ignored under the so-dubbed ‘autonomous government’. The Empire had not frontloaded the occupation with sunshine and lemoncakes, but now, at the end of the trials and tribulations, it had made clear its potential for good. And, without a doubt, its renewed attention and presence in the larger host of Echani civilization.

“Do get some nice shots of the Lord Blowhard”, Heiys crooned from within the confines of a holonet surveillance chamber, “And be sure to keep the grateful populace at the forefront: this is their triumph after all”. The Colonel was somewhat disappointed with the stabilization of crime and dissident outbursts in the wake of the arena’s reopening. And, now that the housing initiative was barreling ahead at full-throttle, Brant was certain he’d have even less opportunities to entertain himself in the future. Still, there the security of the Empress’ homeworld would never cease to be a priority issue, and the work Heiys performed now could be seen as nothing less than a service of the highest order. The slats had been laid, all that remained now was to reinforce and sustain the Interim Governor’s doctrines.

The Interim Governor who, as of early this morning, was Governor no more. Brant had been somewhat frazzled by the stealthy departure of his colleague, but he knew Vassyl as the type to abhor long goodbyes and ceremonial speeches when they could be avoided. In his wake, and much to the surprise of the interim government, Doren had chosen to recommend his hired assistant as chief candidate for the permanent position of System Moff. And while the Ruling Council held the right of last word on such matters, the Captain’s endorsement was not likely to be discounted given his experience on the surface. According to Brant’s sources, Mister Kernaan had offered a brief, winded protest, only to garner further verbal confirmation from his one-time employer.

Yes, the changes had been made, on both Vassyl’s, and the Commodore’s prerogative. As civil and social change took root across the various urban centers, Yaht Yawehb had succeeded in reshaping the Eshan Two Settlement into a thriving military outpost. Equipped with proper landing zones and a sturdy array of anti-fighter flak towers, the additional garrison would do well to dissuade any misguided thoughts of ‘liberation’. Likewise, munition imports had slowly trickled down to the rural sectors of the system capital, where a modern set of V-150 Ion Cannons were quickly nearing completion. Thankfully, the skeletal remains of a half-baked shield array where located and re-purposed to speed matters along. To be sure, any foreign invaders would be torn from the skies without fail. Such was the promise of the New Order.

While a good sum of the tenured military base staff were soldiers from offworld, local recruits quickly gained a simple majority in the past week. At the same time, the first round of exchange students and interns had been shipped off on their respective scholarships. Political interest groups began to organize, administrative positions began to fill, and despite all odds and the looming threat of force- normal life continued without interruption. Curfews shrank in duration. Flight paths grew wider and wider. Already, the blatant failings of the old regime were beginning to fade. Such was the start of true reunification: such was the Age of Alissa Karn. Upon reading the final reports, both Moff Retwin and Lord Regent found little to nitpick after the fact. The deed was done clean, and with admirably less bloodletting than anticipated.

In the end, little remained to suggest that Doren Vassyl had spent a month reshaping the planet’s society, much less that he had lived amongst the people. There were no art displays, no songs, not even a poster. No foundations were named in his honor, nor did any newborns receive his namesake as some sort of bribe for favor. The few natives that had worked directly under the Captain spoke well of him, but only when asked. Indeed, the lone reminder of the Jaeman’s intervention was a single brass plaque that identified his old room in the Hostelry, which sported a small floral arrangement hung off to the side. Out of some distant respect, or mild indifference, few ever chose to occupy the space. Though, on rare occasion, it would be reserved for a weekend by the Lord Governor- or, depending on the season, one very large, very accomplished fighter.
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"He's dangerous that one"
"Because he's a fanatic?"
"A fanatic with a conscience"

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