Chief Precentor Colaut dol'Luch stared at the sky. He couldn't see them from his home on Vr'Shri, but he knew they were out there. His mind's eye could see the fleets approaching one another – his own kin, the Vr'Shar, in their smooth, curved ships coming near the hideously bulky and murderous fleet from the Sildorians.
It had happened so fast. Less than 3 galactic months ago, negotiations for goods had broken down between the Polity of Vr'Shri and the Sildorian Corporate Union. The Sildorians had pushed hard for the acquisition of a few sectors within the Polity's sphere of control, in exchange for arguably extremely generous amounts of goods – credits, minerals, even metals that were more precious than most in the galaxy… but the Vr'Shar had been adamant – they had been given control of these territories by their gods and they were not to be traded for mere goods that could be acquired elsewhere, especially since there were bound to be plentiful worlds the opposite direction from the SCU.
The SCU had finally laid down an ultimatum. Either the Polity would secede those worlds for even LESS goods, or the SCU would undertake what they called a "hostile takeover", in order to secure the systems they so highly valued. The Polity representatives had refused the ultimatum, and when they had attempted to leave the negotiating table, were gunned down along with their retinue in cold blood by the Sildorian guards. It was a declaration of war.
There. The Chief Precentor's eyes flickered from the star that he had been staring at to another star in the sky. Or rather, a cluster of stars, that were not stars at all, but the sun shining off of the hulls of the SCU's newly arrived fleet. Within a few moments, he saw the first ship let rip a few flashes. His sources had told him that the SCU used arguably primitive weapons – torpedoes, missiles, and other projectiles. However, the Polity's ships had not been prepared for the mass amounts of projectile weaponry that the SCU employed – they had been outfitted with defenses that could easily deal with the occasional small, rogue, pirate fleet – but not an organized, massive fleet that they faced at that moment.
He closed his eyes. The analytics in their intelligence sector had reported that no fleet of theirs stood a chance of winning. "100:1 chance that we will emerge victorious from any sort of direct, fleet to fleet engagement with them," they had said. So the Chief Precentor prayed. He prayed that the gods would answer his people, that they would save them from the fate that awaited his people should they lose this final, winner-takes-all battle. That they would guide the fleet's weapons where they needed to go to inflict as much damage as it took to make the SCU retreat in defeat, or at the very least, have a pyrrhic victory of the ages.
The gods did not answer.
The SCU Prosperity-class Titan "Security" stood guard over the city. The Vr'Shri who had escaped, and who had flocked, to the countryside surrounding the capital city looked up at it with exhausted and defeated eyes. Some had barely made it out of the city before the Titan had loosed its weapons of destruction upon the structures that had stood for hundreds of years – bathing everything in liquid fire, shrapnel, and radioactivity. But the number who had escaped in time were minimal – around 1% of the once proud city's population of tens of millions. They watched as the Titan continued to flood the ruins with flame and shells, flattening the entire area. Many cried. Others wailed, groaned, as they watched. Others banded together, swearing to repulse any invasion force that would step on the surface of the planet, and turning their backs on the city as they left to one of many underground and official recruiting stations already operating in the surrounding cities.
Suddenly, a square hologram flickered around the Titan, being visible from miles around – a large count-down began, as even those who had kept moving away from the city and had not stayed with the group of the refugees for fear of their lives turned their attention to the screens.
A pale Sildorian, looking much like the humans they had discovered in the years past in the small empire of the United Nations of the Earth, in a dark blue suit stared back at the Vr'Shri. Her cyan eyes looked as cold as ice, and her voice cut to their souls as she spoke.
"Beings of Vr'Shar, my name is Victoria Sukalov. I am the captain of the "Security", and the official manager of this war. I bring you news – your leader, the Chief Precentor, is dead. Your government and capital city no longer exists. This hostile takeover was brought upon you by your own ineffective, indecisive, and unadaptable leadership – we offered them many chances to both join our union as well as to give us what we wanted for something they wanted – a win-win situation. But they refused. From here on in, you all shall live under the umbrella of the SCU, and shall be given the freedom to choose what you desire to pursue, in the name of prosperity, security, and freedom of choice. No longer shall you be forced to worship inexistent forces. No longer shall you be forcibly moved by your government from place to place, oppressed, forced to labor over things that you have no desire for. You are now free, in the name of the Sildorian Corporate Union. Soon, you will have a new government in place – and for those of you with the will and desire, you may apply to be a part of this government, and to lead yourself, your people, and the rest of the SCU into the dawn of a new and profitable era. Those who are common of you will have the capability to interact with other members of the SCU – to venture towards new horizons, new planets, and new opportunities.
We are here in the name of our creed, and we offer you a share in it – Peace and Prosperity. Security, and Profit. Sukalov… out."
© Post "Some Head Canon about my Authoritarian, Militarist Megacorp clashing with a Spiritualist empire" for game Stellaris.
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