#veskid

“Attention, people of Veskid, we apologize for this interruption, brought to you by your new leader, Emperor Dyson!”

The announcer’s voice blared over most visual or audio entertainment and information devices on the planet.  Those who benefited from the visual feed saw the emblem of the Dyson Empire, the pointed half-oval on its side with a dot floating in the middle, an image resembling half an eye.  The oval spun on an invisible axis while the dot remained stationary until the announcer finished speaking.

The image faded to a dimly lit studio.  Harold Zamona sat at a desk with a glowing pattern of lights behind him.  He smiled and waved to the camera.

“I apologize for this interruption, everyone on Veskid.  I thought it best to let you know what’s been happening since our invasion began.  Your government has been fighting a good fight, considering they were taken off guard… but this is not a militaristic world.  You were in a safe and unreachable part of the Angelor Republic, far from the fringes.  Unfortunately, your spatial position led to defenses that were not prepared for the latest advances in Dyson technology.”

The lights behind Zamona shifted, creating a holographic screen that revealed a star chart.  As the Emperor’s Herald spoke, a sequence of stars were circled, and lines drawn between the circled stars.

“Harnessing the power of several specific stars at several specific star systems, our emperor was able to devise an amazing leap in teleportation technology.  Long-distance teleportation without a receiving gate precise enough to move an armada far, far beyond where it could go with traditional methods of space travel.”

An arrow zipped from the final star on the chart, the star of the Morcalan system.  The arrow arced over a vast stretch of space as the map pulled back enough to reveal the star of the Veskid system.

“Understand that we’ve been playing with the kid gloves on.  We don’t want to destroy anything more than we have to.  We’re not looking to shake up your lives too much, or for a tribute that would tax your already shaky economy.  We don’t want to use up your military and police forces dealing with us when you have local problems to worry about.  Instead, I’ve sent a short list with some very, very simple demands to your current leaders.  I won’t go into the details about those demands, I’ll let the current management decide how much of that they’re comfortable sharing.  For right now, I’d encourage you to let your voices be heard, and let the old order know that Emperor Dyson’s here to stay.  And just in case you’re not convinced that we have the follow through, here’s someone who might be able to convince you.  You’re on, Ortega.”

The screen split, revealing Captain Ortega standing on a podium, presumably in a different location.  Not in his regular Astroguard flight suit, he appeared nearly half a foot taller but with a greater fluidity of movement thanks to the Dyson Empire brig uniforms.  He looked at the screen, sighed, and waved to his assumed audience.

“Hello, Veskid!  I’m Captain Andrew Ortega of the Astroguard.  And, yes, I’m currently the captive of the Dyson Empire.  I have been asked to confirm that they do, in fact, have technological and militaristic capabilities that are more than a match for Veskid under typical battle conditions.  Their request for surrender is not an unreasonable one.”

On the other side of the screen, Harold Zamona nodded, smiled, and shifted in his seat.

“I have also witnessed strong evidence of possible war crimes being committed.  The Dyson Empire employs mind-altering tactics when it comes to building their forces, leading to cybernetically persuaded conscripts.  It’s a reprehensible tactic, even if it’s born from a desire to not employ more violent tactics to achieve the same goal.”

Zamona raised a hand as if to interrupt, but let the conversation play out.

“It is with gratitude and, I admit, some degree of trepidation, that the Dyson Empire has chosen a method for waging war which will minimize the loss of life, if resistance continues, to just one.  I have agreed to single combat against the Emperor’s Herald, him with any weapons he chooses and me with my confiscated flight suit and weaponry, if the public agrees that this would be preferable to an outright surrender.  Should I be victorious, the empire agrees to-”

The screens across Veskid went black.

***

“Just what were you trying to pull, Ortega?” shouted Zamona, crossing the small studio with surprising speed for a person of his size.  Ortega shrugged at the nearing behemoth.

“You wanted to cash in on my image as a beaten hero?  Fine.  That’ll come with a cost though.  You actually have to beat me first.”

“You don’t want that,” said Zamona, pointing a massive, gauntlet-obscured finger at the captain.  “You really don’t want that.  I don’t care if you’ve got your fancy space suit or blasters.  You’d be dead so fast that they’d hear about it yesterday.  We’re going to go live again, and you’re going to tell people what’s REALLY going to happen here.”

“I think I just did,” said Ortega.  “How do you think it’ll help your position if they all see you backing off now?  This is a PR move, and you’ll be losing on the PR.  What do you say, then? Fight me for Veskid if the public agrees to that.  If I lose, move in, set up statues, or do whatever it is that you do when you conquer planets.  If I win, then take off and leave this system alone.”