South of the Aleutian Chain and over the trench a man is reminded of how central the sun is to his life. At all times of the day, it pulls him upward and sets its eye upon the dark things that cast shadows on the earth and cause him to yearn for a day when he himself will no longer cast shadows but rays of glory
I'm sure you've all heard the stories about the Phoenix. About the notorious figures that have cut its rugs. Or the Republic of Freebooters getting started at one of its tables. Everyone’s heard of our battle with the Tax Revenue Fleet. But people rarely think about its humble beginnings. This is that story.
This memo intends to brief the federated societies of the galaxy on the status of one specific emerging civilization that has increasingly been of interest to our members, and further, to recommend caution when traveling unannounced nearby their local planet.
Viktor.Adler.Areo00187 peeled out of his training gear in the tiny hygiene pod. When he heard the first dull thud on the door of his sub-habitat, his adrenaline spiked. The next instant, the metal plate crashed to the floor, bent out of recognition. The Areopolis security guards trampled it as they rushed in.
Ricardo Castillo climbed the last few steps to the newly completed observation deck of Panama Four, careful not to betray his shortness of breath to his assistant. They had arrived at New Darién that morning from the mainland, part of an entourage ferried in on a small fleet of hydrocopters that skimmed over the Pacific waves. Disembarking, they gazed, wide-eyed like children, upon the colossal construction works.