Alright, second page, still haven't reached any action. Like most classic novels LOL:
Bright runway lights shined in the Faith’s
hangar. It was a wide open space, filled with the unbearable wails of launching and landing fighters training for engagements with the Third Alliance and the Scythians. The black, dull tarmac was contrasted with the stainless steel floor, so shiny one could somewhat see his own reflection in it. For Ercole, it would be the closest thing to fresh air in the ship.
The newly-drafted communications officer had no expectation of what he read on the shattered iPad. The Allied Nations rated Trattoria as one of the most stable governments in the world-not even the most trained immortal agents would have been able to take control. But now the flag waving over the capital would be changed from its serene black and white, to a fiery red and black.
The enemy they once fought, would be their rulers. Their friends would now be their enemies. The Third Alliance had taken control.
Ercole remembered his school lectures, praising Trattoria and how great it was to live here. He remembered his wealthy father secured him this comfy desk job when it came time to serve the military. But of course, that wasn’t necessary-the politicians of Trattoria were guaranteed to be calm and reasonable, their policies considerably more conservative than almost every other nation in the brik-verse. Now, with the volatile and unpredictable Third Alliance-affiliated government in charge, Ercole doubted whether he’d even see tomorrow’s daylight. He wanted the nightmare to stop, rewind, pretend President Chutpone was still in charge as any other normal day in the empire. To be sitting at his new station, stealing away moments on Angry Birds when his supervisor wasn’t looking. He wished someone would try to save Trattoria from its downward spiral towards authoritarianism and dictatorship, towards ruin.
He looked up, past the force-field that separated the hangar from the eternal, lonely darkness of space. Into the vast expanse of stars and [dust] clouds, imagining the far-off battles between the grand navies of minifig-kind. A tiny twinkle in the distance flashed blue and disappeared, perhaps due to the neoteric and rumored Scythian Deity
star-killer. He wondered what would happen if such power were unleashed on Trattoria.
An announcement interrupted Ercole’s thoughts and catapulted him back to reality.
“Attention all bridge-crew, this is your captain speaking. Day-shift workers are to report to the bridge immediately. All executive officers please convene in conference chamber 128. All gunners prepare to fire at moment’s notice. Thank you for serving with Trattoria Navy.”
Ercole darted towards the elevators anon, where a small mob had already formed. The blue-crystal elevators descended and ascended quickly as people shoved each other in. Clearly, something was wrong, but no one knew what, except Ercole. He silently debated whether to inform his comrades of the hideous truth.
When he arrived on the bridge, the commander was clenching the railing of the elevated command station, scanning her eyes through the crowd. She was surrounded by the Faith
’s executive officers, all with grave countenances and discussing through whispers.
When her audience settled, the commander began.
“Men and women of Trattoria, I have something to tell you all. You may want to prepare yourselves for what you are about to hear.”
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