Chapter 3: Bad State

Chapter 3: Bad State

In the heart of the Dome, Rosea Channa sat behind her desk, fingers steepled beneath her chin. The Acting Chancellor's office had been hastily converted from an administrative suite after the dimensional shift, lacking the grandeur of the proper Chancellor's chambers. Emergency lighting cast harsh shadows across the faces of her assembled war council.

"Let's not waste time with pleasantries," Channa said, her horns gleaming in the dim light. "We've escaped immediate extinction, but at what cost?"

A holographic projection flickered in the center of the room, Admiral Koros's blue-tinted image occasionally distorting with static. He stood aboard the Eternal Vigilance, his uniform torn and stained with what might have been blood.

Jossa Pulker cleared her throat, consulting her datapad. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, and her normally pristine uniform hung loose on her frame. "The planetary power grid is still mostly down across wide swathes of Ghamorr. The Angels' initial bombardment managed to hit the Nessa Valley generation facility during their initial attack. When we activated the dimensional wave generator, the resulting earthquakes damaged several more plants."

"How long until restoration?" Channa asked.

"Engineers are working around the clock, but even with emergency protocols, estimates suggest at least a month before all major cities return to full power." Jossa's voice cracked with exhaustion. "And that's assuming we can salvage enough components from the damaged facilities."

Mahr Drossel leaned forward, his green eyes reflecting the emergency lights. "My factories could repurpose some of our weapons manufacturing lines to produce power regulation systems, but we'd need to divert resources from military production."

"Which we can ill afford," Remi Natlan interjected, adjusting his ministerial collar. "The military situation must take priority."

Channa turned toward the hologram. "Admiral Koros, what's the state of our planetary defense?"

Koros's projection sputtered before stabilizing. "Practically non-existent, Chancellor. Of the thirteen thousand naval vessels we had at the start of the defense, only twenty-five hundred remain space-worthy." He gestured to someone off-screen, and a holographic display of Ghamorr's orbital space appeared beside him. "More than half of our planetary defense satellites were destroyed outright. Our carrier fighter squadrons are down to fewer than a hundred spacecraft."

"A hundred?" Defense Minister Natlan whispered. "We had thousands."

"The Angels hammered us hard," Koros continued, his voice flat. "It will take years, perhaps decades, to recover our naval strength. Without colonial resources to replace lost ships, we're effectively crippled."

Ghom Satezer shifted in his seat, the old marshal's face carved with new lines of worry. His uniform remained immaculate despite the chaos, a holdover from decades of military discipline.

"And the Army, Marshal Satezer?" Channa asked.

Satezer straightened. "The Unified Army remains mostly intact, having seen minimal action. Several planetary bases were hit during the initial attack, but casualties were limited. We've deployed units to assist local law enforcement in maintaining order across major population centers." He tapped a weathered finger against the table. "Food distribution remains our primary concern. Refugee camps are swelling beyond capacity."

"So at least Ghamorr can rely on its Army," Remi Natlan said with a thin smile. "Something survived your predictions of doom, eh, Marshal?"

Both Satezer and Koros's hologram turned toward the Defense Minister with identical expressions of contempt.

"The Army survived because the Angels didn't consider ground forces worth targeting," Koros said coldly. "They were busy obliterating our fleet while you cowered in your bunker."

"Gentlemen," Channa cut in before Natlan could respond. "Save your animosity for our enemies. We need solutions, not recriminations."

Satezer's jaw worked silently before he nodded. "The Army can maintain civil order and assist with infrastructure repairs, but we must acknowledge our vulnerability. If even a single Angel followed us through the dimensional shift, we would have no effective defense."

"Impossible," Natlan declared. "The wave generator created a one-way transition. Nothing could have followed us."

"Either way, with the Navy all but crippled, we need to stay on our toes," the old Grand Marshal told him.

Channa turned her attention to Drossel, her horns catching the emergency lights as she tilted her head. "What about the private sector? How are our industries weathering this crisis?"

Drossel leaned back in his chair, a practiced ease in his movements despite the circumstances. "My fellow industrialists are nothing if not adaptable, Chancellor. We've survived market crashes, supply chain disruptions, and political upheavals." He gestured dismissively. "This is merely another challenge to overcome."

"With most of the power grid offline—" Natlan began.

"Production capacity will be limited, yes," Drossel cut in smoothly. "But not at Drossel Industries. I invested in a private power infrastructure years ago, completely separate from the state-run grid. My facilities remain at full operational capacity."

Channa's lips curved into an appreciative smile. "Your foresight serves Ghamorr well in these dark times."

Drossel didn't bother hiding his self-satisfied smirk, running a hand through his long black hair. "One doesn't build an industrial empire without anticipating potential disasters, Chancellor."

"If only our government did the same," Satezer muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

Channa ignored the barb and folded her hands on the desk. "What's the general state of our citizenry? Are we facing potential unrest?"

Jossa consulted her datapad, scrolling through reports with a flick of her finger. "Food distribution remains inconsistent, particularly in the southern districts, but we're not facing immediate shortages. The rationing system is functioning adequately." She hesitated before continuing. "However, there's been significant chatter across communication networks criticizing the previous administration's decision to ally with the Godless against the Angels."

"Valid criticism," Satezer interjected, his voice hardening. "We had no business entering a conflict that had nothing to do with us. I said as much when I resigned my commission."

"Yes, Marshal, we're all well aware of your stance on the matter," Channa said, her tone placating but firm. "Your current commission speaks to your patriotism despite those objections."

Satezer's weathered face remained impassive, but his eyes flashed with barely contained frustration.

Channa turned back to Jossa. "Could these online sentiments escalate into civil unrest?"

"Anything's possible in a crisis," Jossa replied, fatigue evident in her voice. "But so long as basic necessities continue flowing and we make visible progress restoring power, I believe most citizens will remain compliant, if not content."

Natlan waved a dismissive hand. "People always complain online, Chancellor. It's a release valve, nothing more. The moment their entertainment feeds resume, they'll forget their grievances."

"I'm not convinced it's that simple," Channa said, studying the holographic display of their new stellar neighborhood. "We're in uncharted territory, literally and figuratively. Our people have lost their colonies, their homes, and now find themselves in an entirely different universe." She looked around the table. "Fear and uncertainty are powerful catalysts for unrest."

Koros's hologram flickered. "The people deserve the truth about our situation. Transparency might prevent rumors from taking root."

"Transparency has its limits," Natlan countered. "Too much information could cause panic."

Channa's eyes narrowed as she considered their options, the weight of thirteen billion lives pressing down on her slender shoulders. The emergency lights flickered momentarily, a stark reminder of their precarious situation.

Channa drummed her fingers against the polished surface of her desk, the rhythmic tapping filling the momentary silence. "What do we know about our new... home?" She gestured toward the star map. "This universe we've fled to. What intelligence have we gathered?"

Jossa adjusted her collar and pulled up a new set of data on her pad. Dark circles underscored her eyes as she squinted at the display.

"Our astrophysicists have been working non-stop since the dimensional shift, but our observations remain preliminary at best." She swiped through several screens of data. "The dimensional wave generator was never meant to be more than a theoretical exercise. We're lucky it worked at all, much less deposited us somewhere habitable."

"I need specifics, not qualifications," Channa pressed.

"Of course, Chancellor." Jossa tapped her pad, and the hologram in the center of the room shifted to display a star system. "We won't have comprehensive data until we dispatch exploratory vessels to conduct proper surveys. Our long-range scanners are operating at reduced capacity due to power constraints, and many of our observation satellites were destroyed during the Angels' attack."

The holographic display rotated slowly, revealing a medium-sized yellow star with five planets in orbit.

"This is what we know so far. We appear to have materialized in a relatively unremarkable star system. The star itself is approximately 1.1 times the mass of our original sun. Scientists have temporarily designated it NDS-001."

"NDS?" Natlan interrupted, his lip curling.

"New Dimensional Star," Jossa explained without looking up from her notes.

Natlan scoffed. "That's absurdly uninspiring. The people need something uplifting, something that speaks to our survival against impossible odds." He straightened his ministerial collar. "I'll have my office contact Ghamorr's premier marketing firms to develop a more suitable designation. Perhaps 'Phoenix Star' or 'Salvation's Light.'"

Channa ignored him completely, her attention fixed on the hologram. "And Ghamorr's position?"

Jossa highlighted the fourth planet in the orbital display. "Here. We've assumed a stable orbit as the fourth planet from NDS-001. Initial readings suggest the other planets are uninhabitable, mostly barren rocks with toxic atmospheres or gas giants."

"Any signs of neighboring civilizations?" Channa leaned forward, tension visible in her shoulders. "Space stations, artificial satellites, communication signals?"

"None detected so far," Jossa replied. "Long-range scans show no evidence of technological development or intelligent life within our scanning range. The system appears completely untouched."

Satezer grunted. "Scanners could be compromised from battle damage."

"Possible," Jossa conceded, "but multiple independent systems are reporting the same findings. It appears we're alone, at least in this immediate stellar neighborhood."

Channa exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her frame. "A mixed blessing, then. Isolation means no immediate threats, but also no potential allies or resources beyond what we've brought with us."

"Given our current state," Koros's hologram interjected, "I consider the absence of neighbors a definite advantage. We're in no position to manage first contact scenarios or potential conflicts. The last thing we need is to escape one existential threat only to encounter another."

"Agreed," Channa said, studying the holographic star system with calculating eyes. "For now, our isolation provides a buffer while we rebuild. We have thirteen billion refugees to house and feed, a power grid to restore, and a civilization to reconstruct." She looked around the table. "This empty system gives us breathing room; time to lick our wounds before we venture further."

Drossel leaned forward, his green eyes reflecting the holographic light. "And should we encounter others eventually?"

"Then we'll be in a stronger position to negotiate, or defend ourselves," Channa replied, her voice hardening. "But first, we survive."

***

The meeting adjourned with a tense finality, each member of the war council collecting their materials and dispersing with the weight of their assignments bearing down on them. Marshal Satezer gathered his data pad, tucking it under his arm as he made his way toward the elevator. His weathered face remained impassive, but his mind raced with logistical challenges. There were thirteen billion people to house, feed, and keep from tearing each other apart.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Satezer stepped inside, pressing the button for the ground floor. Just as the doors began to close, a manicured hand shot between them, triggering the safety sensors. The doors retracted to reveal Remi Natlan, a practiced smile plastered across his face.

"Marshal! What luck catching you." Natlan stepped into the elevator, adjusting his immaculate ministerial robes. "I was hoping for a private word."

Satezer's jaw tightened. The day had already stretched his patience thin, and Natlan's presence threatened to snap it entirely. He gave a curt nod, shifting to the opposite corner of the elevator as the doors finally closed.

"Brilliant work with the Unified Army," Natlan began, his voice carrying the practiced cadence of a career politician. "Truly remarkable how you've kept our ground forces intact through this... unfortunate transition."

Satezer remained silent, watching the floor numbers descend.

"Unlike our esteemed Admiral Koros," Natlan continued, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Ten thousand ships lost. Ten thousand! And for what? A few extra minutes while the dimensional generator powered up?" He shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "Between us, the Navy has proven itself spectacularly useless in this crisis. All that funding, all those resources—"

"Minister." Satezer's voice cut through the elevator like a blade, low and dangerous. His gnarled hands had curled into fists at his sides. "Sixty thousand sailors died defending this planet. Sixty thousand men and women who stood between the Angels and total extinction."

The elevator continued its descent, the tension within it thickening with each passing floor.

"If you speak ill of their sacrifice in my presence again," Satezer continued, each word measured and precise, "I will personally rearrange your facial features until your own mother wouldn't recognize you."

Natlan's smile faltered, genuine shock registering in his eyes before he quickly composed himself. The practiced smile returned, though noticeably strained at the edges.

"Of course, Marshal. No disrespect intended." He smoothed his robes with trembling fingers. "Perhaps we should discuss something more constructive. Your thoughts on what comes next for our government? For our world? I value your perspective as a military man."

Satezer turned to face Natlan fully, his weathered face creased with contempt. "Do you really want to know what I think, Minister?"

"Absolutely." Natlan nodded eagerly, apparently relieved by the change of subject.

Satezer studied the politician for a long moment. "I think times are going to be tough. Brutally tough for every man, woman, and child on Ghamorr. They'll be hungry. They'll be tired. Many will get sick." His voice dropped lower. "But they'll persevere. Ghamorrans always have."

The elevator continued its descent, the soft hum of its mechanisms the only sound beyond Satezer's gravelly voice.

"Soon enough, the lights will come back on. Food distribution will stabilize. Communications will be restored." Satezer's eyes never left Natlan's face. "And then, Minister, the people will remember."

"Remember?" Natlan's smile wavered again.

"Thirty-four colonies. Gone. Billions dead. Our civilization nearly erased." Satezer took a step closer. "At first, they'll blame the Angels. Call them monsters, terrors, an evil menace that struck without provocation."

Natlan swallowed hard, his back pressing against the elevator wall.

"But then they'll start asking questions." Another step. "Why did the Angels attack us? What triggered their wrath? And they'll investigate. They'll dig. And the people will learn the truth."

"What truth?" Natlan's voice had risen an octave.

"That spineless politicians like you sold our world out to the Godless. That you gambled with billions of lives on promises of wealth, territory, and technology to be gained when the Angels were defeated." Satezer's voice had dropped to a whisper. "They'll uncover every backroom deal, every handshake, every stupid elevator conversation where you revealed your true nature."

The elevator slowed as it approached the ground floor.

"And then," Satezer continued, "they will line up every single one of you fuckers who led our people into the dragon's mouth, and they will put a bullet in the back of your heads."

The elevator doors slid open with a cheerful chime that seemed obscenely out of place. Natlan stood frozen, his face drained of color, sweat beading on his upper lip.

Satezer stepped out into the lobby, his back straightening as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. For the first time in months, a sense of satisfaction washed over him. He didn't look back as he strode across the polished floor, leaving Natlan trembling in the elevator.

Behind him, the doors closed on the Defense Minister's ashen face.