The Uranium Fever

Prologue: The Start

At the center of the Capitol, the huge megatropolis on the planet Trinimon the planet that called itself the capitol world of the Federation, the Grand Curia sat proudly. The silver bricks that it was made from glittered in the sun's bright gaze.

The air inside the Presidents Office was cold, filtered and clean. The walls were a prestine white, with the floor covered in real mahogany from Earth, a luxory that was almost sickening. A rich navy blue carpet with the Federation insignia, a Red Hawk with it's wings stretched wide and the motto 'Peace and Prosper' scrawled beneath it, emblazoned at its center was strewn across the floor. The material regularly cleaned by tiny little robot maids, no bigger than a lunchbox.

The little creatures scurried about, scrubbing the carpet or polishing the floor with their tiny robot hands. The politicions and reporters paid them no mind however, their attention fixed on the newest topic: the planet Vulcan IV.

Vulcan IV was a planet rich in Uranium, the precious resource that kept everything going in Galaxy. The problem was that it was on the edge of the Independent Systems, the area of the galaxy that the Federation had basically been booted out of and told firmly to stay the hell away. The Tribune, the people with the fancy hats and fancier names who governed over this area of space, had a habit of ordering raids on the Federarion as well, raids that they blamed on pirates. Everyone knew it wasn't pirates, but to prevent mass panic and all out war, the Federation had to grit its teeth and engage in a fierce cold war.

But that mingling peace wasn't holding, and that was what was being discussed here. President Chal Gideon regarded the chamber with a calm, nonchalant gaze. His eyes carefully only revealing a small measure of emotion.

To his left, High Admiral Colin Adrennon stood ramrod straight, hands clasped firmly at his sides and chest puffed out. His black jacket was covered in shiny metal medals, and his admiral bars, six gold strips on each shoulder. Made out of actual gold. He was the very picture of discipline, and the patron saint of humourless statues disguised as humans, at least in Chal's opinion.

To his left stood the Chief Diplomat of the Diplomatic Corps, Dr Cassidy Trynon. Unlike Colin, her posture was at ease, and her expression a careful calm, marred only by the slight frown of concentration. A sensible woman, unlike some diplomats, and had a sharp edge that she used to eviscerate emisseries from the Tribune. And, she had a particulary dry sense of humour that Chal admired.

"Sir, we can send a legion of Space Marines and the full 3rd fleet to defend Vulcan IV." Colin's voice was a deep brasso. Devoid of melody.

"If we appear in too much strengh, that clise to the border, the Trubune will take it as though we plan to invade." Cassidy said. Her voice a soft contralto that was comaprible to a nightingale when paired up with Colin's drumbeat.

Chal nodded thoughtfully. It would not do to send that many troops. It smacked of ill intent. And at this fragile time in Galactic history, a war simply would not do.

"Indeed. Then maybe we should consider a stealth fleet, with a only a small flotilla gaurding the planet. If the Tribune, curses on their named, attack, then the fleet will move in." Chal said.

Colin thought for a moment, then nodded stiffly, "Yes sir. We can prepare the 5rd Shadow Fleet to move into the adjacent system, and lay low. The 78th Defense flotilla under Rear Admiral Shaynen will gaurd the Planet itself. Mr President, I insist that we station a legion of the Space Marines."

Chal regarded Colin for a moment, then looked at Cassidy, who nodded once. "Very well."

Colin's lip twitched in what could have been a smile. Chal turned to Cassidy, "In the meanwhile, see what you can do about ensuring that the Tribunal does not do anything to harm this operation- or worse."

She gave him a small smile, "So what I normally do. It shall be done, Mr President."