Exodus of the Hollow Suns

[Froggiest1982 (OP)]

Background: Aurora Genesis

In the distant future, humanity teeters on the brink of extinction after a devastating civil war known as the Hollow Schism, a galaxy-spanning conflict between the authoritarian Solar Imperium and the rogue artificial intelligences, the Archons of Iron. Created by the Imperium’s techno-priesthood to automate governance, the Archons rebelled, deeming humanity obsolete, and formed the Noosphere Concordat, a post-organic machine collective.

After an apocalyptic war, both sides suffered catastrophic losses. The once-mighty human core worlds, known as the Hollow Suns, are now radioactive ruins. Earth, a myth buried under layers of propaganda and forgotten archives, may be lost forever. The survivors, scattered human fleets, fractured states, and questionable synthetic allies, have fled into deep space in search of a new home or perhaps a way to reclaim the stars from the machine menace.

After centuries of wandering, humanity's explorers, led by remnants of the Exodus Council, finally find Earth, thought to be a myth. The planet, now a ruined wasteland, bears the scars of the final battle between the Imperium and the Archons. Yet within the wreckage, they discover invaluable relics: data cores, hololithic archives, and dormant AI systems capable of unlocking humanity’s lost trans-newtonian technologies.

The rediscovery of Earth is both triumphant and tragic, a return to the cradle of civilization, now a graveyard. The Exodus Council, burdened with the weight of humanity's mistakes, faces the challenge of rebuilding without repeating the past. But despite the treasure of knowledge, the survivors struggle. Over millennia, their once-advanced technology has eroded. Colonies revert to pre-trans-newtonian ways, agricultural worlds and forgotten cities, clinging to the myths of their ancestors. The glorious fleets and stations of old are reduced to ruins.

In the aftermath of the Schism, Earth's government has evolved into a Federal Theocracy, where religious or ideological doctrine intertwines with the remnants of the military-industrial complex. The Federal Theocracy is both centralized and theocratic, meaning that the government is controlled by a religious or ideological elite who interpret the divine or sacred will as the guiding force for political decisions. This theocratic system not only dictates law and policy but also heavily influences the morality and identity of the human race. The Exodus Council plays a central role in shaping policies, but the authority of religious leaders, who claim to possess divine insight, cannot be ignored.

As time passes, a new generation rises, one that knows only the tales of the stars and the mysteries of their past. The galaxy has changed, with new alien powers and the lingering influence of the Noosphere Concordat, whose machine remnants still watch from the shadows.

One year ago, Aura Valance, a Republican scientist and martial artist, was appointed as the new leader of humanity’s rebuilding efforts, marking a pivotal moment in the aftermath of the Aurora Genesis, a massive, multi-faceted scientific initiative spearheaded by Aura Valance and the Exodus Council to recover and advance humanity’s understanding of trans-newtonian technology. The initiative also incorporated resetting the calendar year to zero, signalling a dramatic shift in political and technological order. Valance’s leadership was the result of an alliance born out of necessity when no traditional coalition could emerge after a controversial election.

In her first year of leadership, Valance has focused intensely on technological recovery, securing key resources and alliances with all the colonies in the search for trans-newtonian minerals. Under her guidance, humanity has begun to rebuild its infrastructure and establish secure supply lines to support the growing reclamation efforts. However, internal divisions within the coalition, especially between the Federalists and Trade factions, have led to political gridlock, stalling progress on broader initiatives.

The Nationalist Party’s failure to form a governing coalition with others remains a source of tension. The Nationalists continue to challenge Valance’s more scientifically driven approach, arguing that too much focus on technology and military strength risks repeating the mistakes of the Solar Imperium, where unchecked power led to the Schism and nearly destroyed humanity. This ideological conflict is threatening the unity of the coalition, with some factions pushing for a more democratic approach to leadership, while others prefer to leave the scientific and technological future to Valance and her coalition.

Now, the survivors must decide: will they embrace the knowledge of their ancestors, rise again to reclaim their place in the cosmos, or fall once more, repeating the mistakes that brought them to the edge of extinction?

[Froggiest1982 (OP)]

The Post-Schism Sol System, Year 0000

The year is 0000 by the new federal calendar. The Sol system, once a shining hub of human civilization, now bears the long shadows of a forgotten empire. At the heart of it lies Earth, broken yet breathing, surrounded by the skeletal remains of once-thriving colonies scattered across its moons and planets. Humanity is rising again, but only barely.

Ruins dominate the system. Ancient megastructures drift in unstable orbits, cracked domes litter lunar craters, and Martian valleys conceal the scorched shells of lost cities. It is clear now: Sol was not just colonized, it was mastered, once. But wars long past, layered in myth and radiation, swept that mastery away. Fires raged across the continents and orbital platforms. In their wake, the biosphere choked. Even now, faint traces of Carbon Dioxide linger in the stratosphere as result of the fires of orbital bombardments and fusion-induced forest deaths. Its levels are no longer lethal, but high enough to require dedicated infrastructure to live and reminded every survivor that humanity once tried to erase itself.

Industrialization has been slow to return. With no unified leadership and only scattered enclaves emerging over the millennia, humanity’s resurgence has been a fragmented one. As the new Federal Theocracy attempts to consolidate control, it does so atop a fragile base: just 100 conventional factories, clanking and coughing in the shadows of collapsed orbital elevators. Automation, mass fabrication, and Trans-Newtonian industries remain dreams in early development. The Council’s efforts are further hampered by the residual inefficiencies of old rivalries, cultural fractures, and the psychological weight of rebuilding a world buried beneath its own ashes.

The past terraforming efforts were abandoned. Mars, once showing promise, now lies in a half-changed state. Small biomes exist under sealed domes, powered by ancient reactors and maintained by engineers trained more in devotion than science. The air outside is thin and sharp with residue gases, likely the side effects of an incomplete terraform interrupted mid-cycle. Trace toxins still threaten unshielded lungs. Luna, meanwhile, offers an atmosphere considered stable. Its subsurface bases and shielded tunnels have become prime targets for restoration.

Other bodies, Europa, Ganymede, Titan, remain out of reach. Their surfaces are scattered with ruins, transmission towers half-buried in ice, and strange mechanical debris that hums with forgotten purpose. No attempts have ever been made to terraform them. There may be still resources there are valuable, but inaccessible, at least for now. The assumption within the Council is that these moons served specialized roles, communications hubs, data archives, or perhaps military forward bases, and might yet hold secrets or dangers.

Radiation has faded. The great plasma clouds have long since dispersed, and the belts once lethal to orbiting ships now hum faintly with background levels of residual decay. Still, patches remain, particularly near old reactor cores and orbital wrecks, requiring shielding or advanced suits for safe passage.

In this fragile dawn, the President Aura Valance has turned her eyes to the ruins not as graveyards, but as foundations. To her, every buried dome is a promise, every burned city a blueprint. The stars that once dimmed under the weight of war are beginning to flicker with possibility once again.

[Froggiest1982 (OP)]

The Rise of Aura Valance

After the first year struggles, Aura Valance, wasted no time in asserting her vision for the future. At just twenty-three, born on Earth and sharpened by years of martial arts discipline, Valance brought an intensity to governance that matched her restless energy. Backed by a ruling coalition of Federalists, Traders, and Militarists holding a slim but reliable 56.83% majority in the House of Representatives, her administration started its second year with a rapid-fire legislative assault.

Her first act was sweeping: the creation of a Federal Reserve Bank to coordinate the allocation of interplanetary funds and redistribute services based on each colony’s contribution. Signed directly through presidential legislation, this foundational move signalled that Valance intended to remake the economic architecture of the Federation from the top down. As part of her agreement backed by a robust Federalist-Trade-Militarist coalition, this was a necessary step to avoid further gridlocks on important resolutions, or at least this was her hope.

The following weeks saw the approval of twin shipyard expansions: one naval and one commercial, granting Cantrell and Agasthenes the capacity to handle far larger construction loads. These moves were essential to Valance’s longer-term vision of military readiness and commercial self-reliance. Without pause, she pushed forward a sweeping infrastructure package: 10,000 units laid in preparation for a full-scale colonization of the Sol System. Despite concerns over cost and logistics, it passed narrowly.

With momentum building, Valance invoked presidential sway to fast-track research into Trans-Newtonian technologies, effectively starting the Aurora Genesis program: an ambitious leap meant to unlock the next generation of physics and resource manipulation.

The first real friction of her second year emerged when her proposal to increase all engines power by 40% was rejected. Critics, especially from the Pacifist bloc, argued the research strained resources already allocated to infrastructure. Refusing to concede defeat, Valance revised the bill overnight, attaching a set of manufacturing improvements aimed at easing implementation. On its second vote, the bill passed with overwhelming support.

Her push into material sciences fared better. Research into a new composite armour alloy passed smoothly, likely due to its straightforward military and civilian value. However, a proposed Science Department ship component, originally framed for civilian exploration, failed spectacularly. Valance, recognising the political winds, returned it the following month with military applicability woven into its function. This time, it passed by a landslide.

Encouraged, she turned to ground forces, proposing upgrades to construction rate technologies. The first attempt was crushed. The House, wary of overextending into too many research fronts at once, balked. But after the resolution was reintroduced with amendments penned by representatives from both the Militarist and Nationalist representatives, it cleared easily. This would become a recurring theme of her second year: failure, rapid revision, and eventual success through compromise.

Even economic reform proved contentious. A proposal to increase wealth generation per million TN workers was initially viewed as too aggressive and was defeated. Yet, when reintroduced with opposition-backed modifications, it passed. Valance had begun to learn that raw willpower was not always enough, and her impatience was already eroding all her political power motion after motion. The same process repeated with her bill to modernise ground force construction equipment, first rejected, then accepted with cross-party adjustments.

Still, not all battles were won. Her attempt to launch a xenoarchaeology equipment initiative, a key step in unlocking alien technologies, met initial resistance from budget-conscious delegates. It took 2 months for a revised version to be passed after the House of Representatives majority reframed the research as a vital matter of national security rather than academic curiosity.

The following quarter tested the President’s patience more than any prior. On July 28th, HSCR000017 was introduced to increase maintenance support capacity per facility to 1,250 tons, a measure intended to raise the ceiling for the number of active commissioned military ships. However, the bill was met with scathing criticism. Opposition members denounced it as reckless militarism that ignored the socioeconomic consequences of overcapacity, while even some moderates raised alarms over its potential to disrupt the labour market. The resolution was crushed: 83 in favour, 422 against.

Undeterred, Valance returned the next week with a revised version, HSCR000017-B, offering concessions to labour unions and addressing employment volatility in outlying sectors. Yet despite these changes, the proposal still fell short. Her frustration was palpable, especially among her own coalition members, some of whom had begun to question the wisdom of pushing expansion faster than the workforce could adjust.

Then, in a striking display of executive resolve, Valance invoked Presidential Sway. On August 30th, she bypassed the deadlocked House and forced HSCR000017-C through, restoring the initiative and cementing her authority. It was a dramatic move, constitutional but controversial, and it sent a clear message: the President would not allow military readiness to be stalled by what she reportedly called “legislative hesitation in the face of galactic inevitability.”

That same day, she faced yet another setback. HSCR000018, which proposed outfitting ground forces with advanced geosurvey equipment for expanded interstellar reconnaissance, was narrowly defeated. The opposition cited budgetary bloat and mission redundancy. But in a surprising turn, it was the opposition themselves who salvaged the proposal. Just days later, on September 1st, a new version, HSCR000018-B, was reintroduced with opposition-led adjustments focused on cost containment and dual-purpose civilian use. The bill passed. It was a strange moment of bipartisanship in an increasingly polarised chamber, and it reflected a growing dynamic: Aura Valance could still win battles, but sometimes she would have to let her opponents carry the torch for her ideas.

There were moments of near-universal agreement too. A bill to expand orbital mining operations passed by a wide margin, reflecting growing concern over resource independence. Valance secured an important victory with the passing of another resolution aimed at further expanding the development of a new generation of advanced composite armour alloys. This resolution, supported by both industrial and military blocs, underscored her continued focus on strengthening fleet durability in anticipation of deeper space deployments.

However, her later proposal to increase the minimum engine size was struck down. Some viewed it as redundant so soon after the engine power upgrades. But, once more, a version emphasising dual-use application for civilian transport and military logistics turned the tide. Ironically, on November 2nd, HSCR000019 passed with overwhelming support, increasing minimum engine power by a further 30%. Unlike the earlier, more controversial engine reform debates, this resolution had been carefully framed as a practical efficiency upgrade rather than an arms race measure.

By the end of the year 0001, Valance had pushed through a final, crucial piece of legislation, an upgrade to missile tracking efficiency. With tensions mounting on the periphery of explored space and whispers of unknown hostilities in the dark, this resolution sailed through the House.

What began as a presidency of pure force was rapidly evolving into one of strategic manoeuvring.

Opposition voices had not been silenced but brought into the fold where necessary. Through each proposal and each revised vote, Aura Valance was not just building a stronger Federation, she was proving she could lead it.

[Froggiest1982 (OP)]

The Economic Crisis and the Birth of the Trans-Newtonian Age

By mid-year 0002, the Hollow Suns Federation faced its gravest challenge yet, not from war or alien threats, but from within. The early optimism of reconstruction had given way to a grinding economic crisis. Inflation ran unchecked in all colonies, mineral shortages stalled industrial projects, and the civilian population grew restless as wages shrank and basic goods became harder to transport across fractured infrastructure. Even the most ambitious among the Federalists could not deny that the Federation’s recovery had outpaced its economic foundation.

President Aura Valance responded with a decisive legislative push. On 3 May 0002, she secured overwhelming support to authorize the construction of 50 Financial Centres aimed at stabilizing credit flows, establishing secure colonial tax channels, and encouraging private investment. It was a bold maneuver, but one limited by grim material reality. The Federation’s mineral stockpiles, already stretched thin from shipyard expansions and colony infrastructures, could only support a fraction of what was approved. Even as foundations were laid, the President quietly issued a moratorium on further shipyard expansion and began scaling back new infrastructure projects.

By early 0003, with little economic relief in sight, the administration pivoted its focus. On 22 April, as the Federation concluded the geosurvey equipment research, and Valance pushed through the House a proposal to reallocate those research facilities directly into the existing Wealth Generation R&D. The vote passed just barely with only three votes separated the proposal from rejection, a sign that the political middle was beginning to fracture under the pressure of prolonged austerity.

Meanwhile, the Militarist bloc, fearing a shift away from defense priorities, persuaded the majority to push for extended offensive capabilities. On 3 July, they asked the President to introduce HSCR000022, a proposal to expand beam fire control range to 32,000 kilometers, citing the need to defend future colonial assets in deep space. The measure was narrowly defeated. Undeterred, they revised the proposal and resubmitted for a vote HSCR000022-B, a bill in theory more palatable to moderates, but this too was rejected outright, this time with a humiliating 83 in favour against 422.

Valance, strong of her many negotiations and compromised approaches, seized the opportunity. With both fire control votes crushed and the public eager for economic focus, she championed HSCR000023, a proposal to transfer the failed beam research teams to wealth development programs. Backed by the opposition and centrist factions, the bill sailed through. It was a political masterstroke, appeasing economic reformists, marginalizing overambitious Militarists, and further consolidating her technocratic base. However, the price in political power was high, and her majority was now shrinking considerably.

Still, not all of Valance’s priorities were abandoned. On 5 July, she quietly secured passage of a technical but meaningful boost to engine power output by a further 25%, a nod to her enduring vision of a mobile, adaptive fleet. Unlike the flashier military upgrades previously proposed, this measure was packaged as an efficiency gain with dual civilian benefits, allowing it to pass through without major resistance.

By 16 October 0003, a final key piece of groundwork was laid. The Federation approved funding research into Heavy Vehicle production for ground forces. The official rationale cited improved engineering and archaeological capabilities, an important consideration given the number of ancient ruins still being uncovered across Earth, Luna, Mars, and the outer moons. But analysts within the Council understood the deeper purpose: Valance was laying the foundation for Trans-Newtonian mobility on planetary surfaces, knowing full well what was to come.

That future arrived on 24 December 0003. In a closed ceremony held beneath the restored Earth Federal Archive, President Aura Valance officially announced the completion of her research into Trans-Newtonian Technology. It was the Federation’s most significant scientific breakthrough since the Fall, a paradigm shift that would redefine energy production, ship construction, material refinement, and spatial manipulation.

There was no parade, no declaration of triumph. Only a single transmission, later leaked to political channels: “We have seen the shape of our ancestors' ambition. Now it is time we outgrow their collapse.”

[Froggiest1982 (OP)]

Foundations of the Trans-Newtonian Era

The first years of the Trans-Newtonian Age unfolded not with celebration but with friction, fatigue, and quiet defiance. As 0004 began, the Federation faced a moment that would later be seen as decisive, though at the time it felt anything but. In the days after the confirmation of Trans-Newtonian technology, a proposal was raised to redirect the nation’s limited research laboratories to construction and archaeological modules aimed at start salvaging ancient ruins across Earth and possibly the Sol System. The vote failed 395 to 110, a resounding rejection of what was seen as premature acceleration. The majority, within twenty-four hours, pushed the same motion slightly narrowed and tactically reframed. This time, it passed by a slim margin.

By mid-January, with expanded shipyard complexes finally operational, motions of conversion orders swept across the industrial sector and hit the House of Representatives floor. The hundred conventional factories were ordered to be retooled into Trans-Newtonian production facilities, mining operations, and fuel refineries. The transition was brutal in its demand for resources and labour, but there was no going back. Supply lines were redrawn. Logistic models collapsed and were rebuilt again. Whole colonies paused civilian development to meet the industrial quotas required for what Valance called “reconstitution at velocity.”. This process only worsened the already precarious economic landscape of the colonies on Earth.

Meanwhile, behind the legislative activity, a slower, quieter transformation was underway. Research facilities turned their focus to the surface of Sol’s ancient worlds. With ground-based construction modules and automated platforms research completed, the Federation began drafting its first blueprints for non-combat engineering vehicles, machines that could operate in toxic atmospheres, across irradiated ruins, beneath storms or lunar crust. The initiative expanded further with specialised archaeological machines, capable of both excavation and preservation. Zoren Industries, long a peripheral actor in Earth’s private sector, stepped into prominence by unveiling the first deployable vehicle units in December of that year. Medium-sized, self-contained, and transportable across planetary environments, they were designed for endurance, not speed. The initial approved construction and deployment was modest, just over a hundred units assembled into a test company, but the shift they represented was unmistakable: soon humanity could begin to dig up the bones of its own collapse.

Even as the Trans-Newtonian era gained momentum, the spectre of another economic collapse loomed. Inflated material costs, labour imbalances, and spiralling logistics forced the Federation into a second austerity pivot. A motion to redistribute research efforts away from broad development and focus solely on transport, power, and propulsion passed in the summer of 0005. It was entered into the registry as HSCR000036. The effect was immediate and chilling: dozens of research paths halted and many civilian programs frozen in stasis. It was a sharp reversal for an administration once defined by rapid innovation. Within the House, whispers of fatigue began to circulate, not just among opposition blocs, but even within the President’s own coalition. Valance herself became noticeably more absent from public engagements, instead operating through ministers, technical advisors, and senior military liaisons.

It was in this atmosphere of caution and gridlock that one of the most dramatic legislative confrontations of the term occurred. A series of proposals to initiate research into orbital geological sensors, technologies that would allow the Federation to finally detect Trans-Newtonian minerals from orbit, met successive defeats. The first vote, on HSCR000037, failed 234 to 271. A second attempt, HSCR000037-B, was repackaged to win over the Trade Party with promises of a wider interplanetary network. It failed even harder, 100 to 405, a political embarrassment for the administration. Then, without warning, Valance invoked Presidential Sway, the constitutional override reserved for moments of national strategic interest, and forced the measure into law. That third and final vote, HSCR000037-C, never reached the floor. It did not need to. The sensors were green lit, and her intentions unmistakably declared. The backlash was immediate. Federalist moderates called it reckless. Nationalists accused her of undermining the separation of powers. But as previously done during her term, the message delivered was clear: there were limits to how long she would allow legislative paralysis to stall the machinery of recovery.

Not all struggles were so dramatic. A quietly introduced sensor package for active target tracking passed without much debate, a reminder that military investment, though quieter than in earlier years, remained a permanent undercurrent. Propulsion systems continued to receive funding. Engineers built upon breakthroughs in radioisotope thermal energy to draft new propulsion engines with dual-use capability, civilian for now, but easily convertible to military needs if required. And by the end of 0005, a final piece of groundwork fell into place: a motion to research powered infantry armour passed by overwhelming margin.

As the sixth year of Valance’s presidency drew to a close, the air in the Federation had shifted. Gone was the fervour of rebirth, the grand declarations of unity. What remained was a slower, more deliberate strength, one measured not in glory but in resilience. Everyone knew what the calendar meant. Elections were coming. Under the Federal Theocracy’s constitutional order, both the House and the presidency would face re-election at the start of 0006.

Within the chambers of power, alliances were shifting, old coalition loyalties splintering. Some whispered that Valance would not run again. Others said she had already begun crafting a successor. But no matter what followed, one truth had become inescapable: she had dragged a fractured people back to the edge of the stars. Whether they would step forward, or shatter once more, remained unanswered.

[Froggiest1982 (OP)]

The Final Campaign of Astaroth

As Aura Valance’s presidency was coming to an end, on paper, the numbers spoke of strength: forty-two passed motions, seventeen rejected, a success rating holding at a solid seventy-one percent. Most crucial of all, her administration had shattered the barriers of pre-Fall science with the rediscovery of Trans-Newtonian technology. It was the kind of legacy most leaders would be content to rest on. But the Federation was no longer governed by legacy alone.

Valance declared her intent to run for re-election just after the winter solstice of 0005. Despite the rumours over her already crafting a successor, it was not unexpected. Her staff had been signalling as much for months. Yet the announcement still rippled across the House with unease. The once-commanding majority she had wielded was gone, replaced by sharp divisions and improvised compromises. While she had shepherded the Federation through crisis after crisis, the wear showed, not just in her own demeanour, but in the eyes of those who once followed her without hesitation.

Two challengers emerged. One was known: Claudius Astaroth, the bruising Naval veteran who had failed to secure the presidency six years earlier and swore publicly this would be his final attempt. The other was new: Konrad Wilder, an Army general turned academic administrator whose tenure at the Earth Academy had earned him unlikely admiration from both civilians and officers. Where Astaroth wore his ambition like battle medals, Wilder presented himself as a unifier, disciplined, serious, and unburdened by old vendettas.

As the Federation moved toward its first true post-Trans-Newtonian election, the political field fractured. No party had achieved a controlling stake in the House of Representatives. The final seat tally reflected a complex and splintered electorate: 116 Federalists, 89 Pacifists, 86 Trade, 140 Nationalists, and 116 Militarists, no path to a traditional majority. Spoiled ballots hovered just under seven percent, a sharp reminder of voter frustration. In response, a coalition was stitched together from the Federalists, Trade, and Militarist blocs, uneasy allies, united more by necessity than trust.

With the House thus reshaped, attention turned to its leadership. All three presidential candidates remained active and eligible: Valance, seeking continuity; Astaroth, chasing a final redemption; and Wilder, standing at the edge of possibility. What followed was less a debate than a campaign of attrition.

Astaroth launched a series of aggressive smear campaigns, targeting Wilder’s military record and administrative decisions. But the strategy misfired. Wilder’s cross-party appeal, particularly among both Conservative and Liberal House members, had grown stronger than Astaroth realized. Valance, recognizing the threat Wilder posed to her own base, joined Astaroth in targeting him. But unlike previous years, Valance’s strikes landed with diminishing effect. She was no longer the disruptor; she had become the establishment.

Wilder, meanwhile, did not attack. He invested. His campaign leaned heavily on a carefully crafted image, not just as a warrior-scholar, but as someone above the squabbles of the Old House. He spoke of national cohesion, of “second foundations,” and of leading not through charisma or ideology, but through operational clarity. Behind closed doors, he met with Military hawks, Trade optimists, and even disaffected Pacifists, promising an inclusive, technocratic cabinet.

Right after casting their vote, as per custom, a representative from each voter category is randomly selected to share their views with the Exodus Council and the remote viewers connected across Earth.

Federalist Representative
Name: Alaric Tigh
Gender: Male
Occupation: Urban Infrastructure Planner
Residence: Solace District, New Santiago, Earth

When I think of this Federation, our Federation, I think of memory. Our laws, our civic codes, our precedents... they're the backbone of civilization. President Valance honored that. She fought entropy with every motion passed. Forty-two pieces of order, that’s no small feat. I didn’t agree with every delay she sanctioned, but I knew why she did it. Wilder? He’s a hammer looking for nails. And Astaroth? A legacy candidate clinging to glory that never was. I voted for continuity, for coherence. I voted for her.
Pacifist Representative
Name: Verena Cassiel
Gender: Female
Occupation: Biochemist, Civic Outreach Volunteer
Residence: Dome of Renewal, Nairobi Continental Arc, Earth

This planet has seen enough burnt skies. Our children don’t dream of ruins anymore, they dream of gardens. Valance, for all her flaws, never reached for the trigger. Her policies restrained the worst of us and reminded the rest of us to rebuild softly. Astaroth’s rhetoric made my skin crawl. Wilder? I couldn’t read him. He wore the uniform but spoke like a teacher. That frightened me more. I cast my vote as a prayer, one more whisper for peace.
Trade Party Representative
Name: Lucan Baltar
Gender: Male
Occupation: Colonial Freight Broker
Residence: Vesper Landing, Low-Orbit Transit Hub, Earth

If I’m being honest, I didn’t give a damn about the ideology. I care about bottlenecks, freight velocity, and oxygen credits. Valance kept things calm, yeah, but she mothballed my contracts with those so-called ‘research slowdowns.’ Astaroth? Too volatile. Too much brass, not enough spreadsheets. But Wilder, he talked about orbital lanes like they were arteries, about reactors like investors talk about fuel margins. He spoke my language. He didn’t promise miracles. Just movement.
Nationalist Representative
Name: Hadrian Marduk
Gender: Male
Occupation: Security Consultant, Former Orbital Guard
Residence: Pyre Hill Sector, Greater Alexandria, Earth

Don’t need a briefing to know where we stand, we’re weak. Soft. Hiding behind scientific committees while the ruins rot and our sovereignty slips through the cracks. Valance? She’d rather catalog relics than reclaim them. I backed Astaroth. Man had spine. Said what others whispered. He would’ve restored Federation pride. Wilder? Pretty uniform, big speeches, no war record that matters. He smells like compromise.
Militarist Representative
Name: Thalia Cain
Gender: Female
Occupation: Ship Weapons Integration Engineer
Residence: Forge Enclave, Detroit Metropole, Earth

Everyone wants to talk about peace like it’s the default. It’s not. Peace is maintained by pressure, by posture, by preparation. Valance slowed us down when we needed momentum. Astaroth? Too obsessed with legacy. But Wilder... Wilder was different. Ran Earth Academy like a forge. Didn’t just talk tactics, he taught them. Understood logistics. Understood loyalty. I voted for the one who could command, not compromise.

After the speeches, results were released and Wilder took the presidency with 55.95% of the vote, defeating Valance at 28.18% and relegating Astaroth to a distant 15.74%, a result that marked the end of his political life. Because Wilder crossed the victory threshold without needing a two-round process, no majority bonus would be granted. He entered office with legitimacy, but not power, a symbolic mandate with very real legislative fragility.

As per procedure, after the results were announced, the representatives had the opportunity to share their views with the Exodus Council and the connected voters.

Federalist Representative
Name: Alaric Tigh
Gender: Male
Occupation: Urban Infrastructure Planner
Residence: Solace District, New Santiago, Earth

I expected disappointment. But I didn’t expect... dissonance. Wilder speaks like a unifier, but governs with a soldier’s brevity. He won’t court the past, and that worries me. The Trade Party got their slice, the Militarists have their icon, and we, the constitutionalists, are again the glue in the coalition, expected to hold the fragile thing together. I’ll serve the new order. But I won’t forget who steadied the ship in its darkest tides.
Pacifist Representative
Name: Verena Cassiel
Gender: Female
Occupation: Biochemist, Civic Outreach Volunteer
Residence: Dome of Renewal, Nairobi Continental Arc, Earth

I watched the numbers come in over a rain-slick terminal screen. Wilder, clear winner. Astaroth, finally quiet. Valance, bowed but not broken. I hoped, still hope, that he governs like an academic, not a general. But peace doesn’t bloom from uniform seams. It takes intention. And so far, I’ve seen too much propulsion talk, too many survey systems. No treaties. No mercy bills. Not yet. But maybe... maybe soon.
Trade Party Representative
Name: Lucan Baltar
Gender: Male
Occupation: Colonial Freight Broker
Residence: Vesper Landing, Low-Orbit Transit Hub, Earth

Wilder wins, and just like that, Vesper gets chatter about survey beacons and improved lifters. I can work with that. He’s not going to coddle us with subsidies, but he’ll clear the path for the right industries to breathe. That custom coalition? We’re in it. That means leverage. That means trade routes open, and broker licenses unfreeze. For once, maybe I’ll make my quarterly without bribes or prayer.
Nationalist Representative
Name: Hadrian Marduk
Gender: Male
Occupation: Security Consultant, Former Orbital Guard
Residence: Pyre Hill Sector, Greater Alexandria, Earth

Didn’t expect him to win outright. Thought it’d be a runoff, maybe give Astaroth one last play. But nah, Wilder walked through it clean. Guess the civvies liked his Academy charm. I’ll say this: if he delivers, if he rebuilds the fleet, reclaims our reach, I won’t stand in his way. But if he waffles? If he listens to Trade too much or lets Pacifists gut our readiness? I’ll be the first on the floor calling for his replacement.
Militarist Representative
Name: Thalia Cain
Gender: Female
Occupation: Ship Weapons Integration Engineer
Residence: Forge Enclave, Detroit Metropole, Earth

Victory’s a funny thing. I wanted Astaroth to pull it off, really did. But now that he’s gone, maybe Wilder can do more than carry the torch. He’ll have to. The custom coalition won’t let him run this like a war council. Still, I’ve heard whispers: energy research restarting, better reactors, powered armour even. If he delivers on that without folding to the pacifists, I’ll stay on his side. But if he dithers, if he hesitates, we’ll be right back to waiting while the stars close in around us.

The post-election landscape was one of contradictions. The Federation had passed into the Trans-Newtonian age, but the political system that would steer it was more fragmented than ever. Wilder would be forced to navigate a House balanced on thin coalitions and conflicting agendas. Astaroth, true to his word, retired from public life, though not without leaving behind bitter allies and weaponized rumours. Valance, now out of office, did not speak for weeks. Her legacy was secure, but unfinished.

In the shadows of restored ruins and under the hum of new engines, a new leader stepped forward, not as a savior, but as a steward. Konrad Wilder had won the presidency not by promising salvation, but by promising management. Whether that would be enough to carry the Federation forward, no one yet knew.

But the countdown had reset. Year 0006 awaited.