hey if you read this, please review it. There is no point if it isn't reviewed, and i'll have no incentive to continue. thanks.

London and surrounding boroughs, District of England, 12 August 3112:

Vern shuffled through the town centre, hugging his arms as the cold, wet rain fell in sheets on the peasants. The dark shops and dirty apartments lined the street, and people steered clear of the black clad guards. The guards carried large rifles and looked as fearful as they were rumoured to be. Vern coughed violently, and clutched his throat in pain. When the guards disappeared into an apartment, obviously instilling fear in the community, Vern picked up his pace and turned into a grim alleyway. He saw an oil drum, with holes punched in the side burning, and lighting the area in which a short man stood. As Vern approached he rose out of his sodden cloak and grabbed the little man by the neck and brandished a sharp shard of glass wrapped in cloth. He pushed it against his neck harshly, and head butted him.

“You bastard Timm!” He rasped desperately, “You said it would work!” The little man froze, and blinked, his beady eyes dilating.

“What, Vern I-” He gibbered, but Vern head butted him again, and bloody streaked down his wizened face. Vern could smell the Absinthe on his breath, the sweet aniseed taste scenting the air.

“She’s dead. She’s dead, she was eighteen months old. And now I’ve got it. Give me the Hundred Liatii I gave you; so I can go to a real doctor. If you don’t I’ll kill you.” His rasping voice was filled with a distinct hatred.

“I don’t have it.” As he finished the sentence Vern screamed, and applied as much pressure as he could, and Timm squirmed for breath. Vern jammed the shard into his eye and the squirming stopped, the little man slumped to the floor.

He exited the alleyway, blood across his cloak. The rate of his coughing increased, his world dizzied. He made out two black figures marching towards him, and barged straight into them holding his chest. Seconds later he felt a crack to the back of his head, and lost all consciousness.

Thesis on the Modern Empire: Revised Edition, by James Merrier:

An Extract from the ‘Introduction to the Empire’

Earth in ancient days. A fine place in some respects, but plagued by war disease and hunger, foolish governments and many class systems. In the great war of 2804, the Father of the Empire, Seoul Miah, formed a hegemony that later became the Empire. For more on this section see, The Final War, Unification and Triumph.

In a nutshell. All countries were done a way with in favour of one country, Earth. Though at first the process was bloody. Billions rebelled, but revolution and rebellion were crushed by the might of the Empire, and conscription became commonplace. With the discovery of the new radioactive element, Arium, many were sent to die terraforming Mars in 2900. It didn’t get better after; people were conscripted to the Emperors Army, the Arium mines, the awe-inspiring space yards, the biological testing programmes, or to work on solar farms.

I cannot, and will not sugar-coat the antics of the Empire in this book, and don’t expect me to. I would also be cautious as to where you read this manuscript because you will likely be killed for reading it. Maybe in theory the plan would have worked but I go on to examine why it doesn’t. Poverty hasn’t been solved, if anything it’s rife. The only thing keeping the peace is that 67 of the thirty billion of us are conscripted. The ones who aren’t suffer disease, and a daily grind that us minority of ‘Higher Class’ citizens can’t imagine. As a previous member of the Emperors cabinet I can reveal that at that time, a massive 30 of all non-military deaths per annum were caused by the army, and street guards. 36 were caused by biological testing.

But do not try to rebel, I merely want to educate you of what is really happening to our society, we are anything but civilised, despite the magnificent structures and technologies. We have two vast, living breathing worlds, and for the most part we more ‘do’ our lives rather than ‘live’ them. Forced into a state of ignorance that we cannot alter, fear constantly instilled into our hearts. We have become everything we shouldn’t have become…

Los Angeles and surrounding boroughs, the District of the Americas, 13 August 3112:

The sun beat down on the concrete of the ballpark, of which the crumbled walls and broken posts betrayed the fact it was never used. In a shady corner a young teenage boy sat hunched reading a tattered book with intrigue. He had long, rough blond hair and serious blue eyes. He wore a plain sleeveless vest and green shorts. He enjoyed having the time to escape into a book, away from the harsh real world. His parents had been conscripted and so had his older sister. He lived with various relatives, and in his spare time wrote books, and reports on what he saw and his day to day life.

Reading was his favourite pastime, and he had picked up his current book from an abandoned tech warehouse he and two other boys had raided. For the next half hour he had peace. He listened to the sounds of LA, the cars, shouting, kids running around, but he found solace in it. Soon enough though to ten year olds chased through and noticed him in the corner. They were a mess; they had no shoes, or shirts, just shorts. They had grubby little inquisitive faces and immediately wandered over to him.

The blond-haired boy shooed them off, but they tried stealing his book. He lashed out at them and caught one boy in the face, bloodying his nose. After that they scattered. Another ten minutes of tranquillity went by, when the two little boys came back with guards in tow.

They were wearing a short sleeved variant of the dreaded, black, bulky armour. One of the boys pointed accusingly at the young teenager, and the guards hoisted him up, just to knock him down again with the butt of a rifle. The book fell out of his hands.

The second guard snatched the book off the floor, and his expression turned from one of malevolence to one of utter disgust.

“The Thesis eh? Stupid little traitor.” The guard dropped it and slammed the rifle across the struggling boys face, sending him sprawling to the floor. The boy whimpered and tears mixed with blood as they streaked down his face. The other guard lifted him and pressed his face to the wall. The boy was aware of the grit and tear salt stinging his wounds, the grit in his mouth and the grit up the back of his shirt. It was one of the last few senses he would have. The guard that had spoken pulled out a silver handgun, and pressed it to the boys head. He squeezed the trigger.

Artemis Kolo District, Mars, 15 August 3112:

The Artemis Kolo District was a place buzzing with activity, dropships and shuttles filled the terraformed sky of the Space Port. Next to the Space Port lay the huge AKD Space Yard, it was a series of grand spires, that twisted and turned, large funnels that pumped out thick, dark, and acrid smoke. From the air one could take in the full majesty of it all, the great long building sheds were visible from orbit. On the ground millions worked on gargantuan vessels that would cruise space, leisure for the rich. The in-system cruises were all about good wine, good food, good parties and good company. The largest ever built, the Olympia, could hold up to one million passengers. It travelled for four years before its return, though despite such amazing feats, the human race still couldn’t escape from the solar system.

Mark Johannesburg sat in the seat of the domed observation centre. The seat was surrounded by cabling, many screens, showing all kinds of readings and diagrams. He wore a pair of goggles, which relayed video footage from the superscope. The room had a faint smell of sweat and burning plastic; dim lighting hid the sight of rubbish strewn across the floor.

On the outside the barrel of the telescope stretched at 45ْ and the length of three football fields; it was a bulky gunmetal black structure, with an array of smaller scopes and dishes hanging off of it. Near the middle giant posts leapt out of the ground beneath it to support it.

It was quite marvellous in its own right, and today was an important day.

For the next fifteen hours, the superscope would be in the perfect position to observe Alpha Centauri. Alpha Centauri was the nearest star system, and for centuries had been the best hope of life elsewhere from earth, allowing the human race to expand the Empire, discover new and exciting technologies. Alas, the hope is not of life elsewhere but merely of conquest. Mark, slightly wrinkled, and slightly chubby, prepared the command console.

The room began to hum, the warmth radiating from the large servers and processing towers. Mark gently calibrated the operational yoke and adjusted his eyes; it was awkward because the left eye was the status screen in which all technical information was shown, the right eye saw the view through the scope proper. He shuffled in his seat and prepared for the eight-hour shift ahead of him.

Ship Yard Sector, SYSM28:

It was sweltering in the large assembly hangar; squat well built men hurried around clutching sheets of metal, pulling along heavy and intricate components. Thin and malnourished women were dealing with industrial welding torches, and electrical fittings. All activities were centred on the huge, half-finished corvette sitting in the workshop. It was designed primarily for speed, and was the most heavily armoured ship in the history of man, despite its corvette status. In the past engine design had been limited, but in 3102, a decade ago a great scientist named Kristoff Namibia created the came out of the shadows. With him he brought the Hi-Output Ion drives and Arium T9 engine; it was a groundbreaking fusion of nuclear technology with ion propulsion. Since ion propulsion was effective, but only after a long acceleration period, Namibia decided that if he used the highly reactive Arium to propel the ship to super high speeds first, then switch to ion propulsion, it would save both time and energy.

It had long been guessed he worked with the Emperors full support, but he eventually developed the engine that could harness the full power of Arium. Mathematically he worked out the engines could accelerate too 210,000 kilometres per second in four months, and this was all the more amazing as it was over two-thirds the speed of light. Though in theory he was proved wrong; the test shuttle was launched only to disintegrate hours later, as a small field of pea-sized debris smashed through the shuttle and smashed it to pieces.

Thus the order was given to construct a ship that could withstand such high speeds, and accommodate humans that lived inside it; and so led to the construction of the corvette in SYSM28, the Velociraptor. The heavy hangar doors slid open, air and light flooding in. The workers generally preferred to keep the doors shut, as absence of the fumes caused them to cough and become nauseated. Outside a large flatbed vehicle trundled in, its heavy metal tracks clanking periodically; it was commonly referred to as a slug, for its slow movements. Behind it followed a crane truck, which was used to lift the hideously metallic looking A-T9 engine into the stern of the corvette.

Dans Hythe ran to the sliding track that was used to move the large corvette carcass along, he started to operate the steam levers. Steam billowed from the controls and the floor catapult sprung into action, he realised he had started it too soon; a welder called Anne was at the front securing a plate strip. She was being deafened by the welder and must have missed the red light for some reason. He sprinted to her as the corvette gained speed, he struggled to keep up with the front end and winced as her leg got caught it the track. It was too late, he slowed down, and even above the din he could hear a sickening crunching.

“We need a medical team, as soon as. A worker was crushed under the corvette. Emperor help us.” He reported breathlessly. Dans turned his mind to the corvette and returned to the catapult controls, and reversed the steam process to bring the ship to a slow halt.

Emperor District, Formerly Austria, 15 August 3112:

Austria had always been a beautiful country, its rolling green hills, and mountains covered in snow; peppered with lush evergreens. Below fertile valleys were sparsely populated by sweet smelling pine cabins, black rivers coursing through them. In other places, the soft, gentle water of the lakes reflected the beauty of the quaint ancient villages.

It was a place in which every sense was met by a fresh crispness, and the Emperor instantly fell in love with it. He claimed it as his own personal district, and upon a mountain he built the Imperial Palace. It was built with an exterior of pine, and thatched roofs; the parapets were made of planked pine, and the only stone structure of the exterior was the bastion, upon which guards stood.

For all the charm of the outside the interior was much different, the walls behind the pine equivalent were forty inch titanium, and air filters were also installed. It was bomb proof by far, and the Emperor could live there till he died if he so wished without needing to leave. The heart of the palace was actually underneath the main one, buried under the mountain. The floors were marble, and leather seats were scattered in various places. The seats of the great hall were usually accompanied with thick, soft carpets.

The Emperor seat was a simple sofa, and a large projected screen on the far wall was used to brief individuals, and also to entertain the Emperor. Below the hall fast tubes were installed that transported people to the mountains base. There was even a shuttle hangar that opened to the side of the mountain, in case the Emperor ever wanted to, or had to escape. It was simply a hidden superstructure, and a fortress.

The Emperor sat in his sofa, watching a small riot that occurred in the Mexico District four days ago. The idiots had no chance; they were outnumbered as well as outclassed. It was a massacre. He took a bite out of a sandwich, and scratched his head. He was fairly young, his father having died six years ago. Though according to the public, the Emperor never died, and in a way he didn’t. The Emperor had quickly accustomed to his position and was truly taking his power. Next to him sat one of his wives; who was actually slightly older than him. She was of course stunning, and felt honoured to be sitting next to a man who had two wives for every day of the week. Then across from him sat one of his former advisors, who was too one of his closest.

He had a black eye, and his hands were no longer shackled, but guards hidden behind the pillars of the halls had their guns trained on him. He seemed unperturbed by all of this, his wizened face showing only knowledge and enlightenment. He still had a head of grey hair, and features that likened him to a kind old man.

The Emperor slid his thumb over his eyebrow, and bore his eyes into to those of the old man. “James, am I not a God?” He asked.

“My boy, you are as much a God as your father. And he was no god…for the good of man lets pray you realise your mistakes as I have. You know nothing of pain and suffering, only power.” He kept steady, even when the Emperor approached him and smacked his face twice.

“What would you have me do James? Humanity destroys itself, these plebs are sheep and care only for the smaller picture, they fight and war and they will kill us all! Can we have no measure of control? They spread disease and riot. I am doing them a favour!” He stood with an intimidating air over James Merrier, but the old man felt no intimidation.

“Plebs or not my dear boy, they are people and deserve life. I have travelled this entire country, as many districts as I can. This is not the way to rule an Empire, I can’t say I know how it is done; but your reign is a fine example!”

“First, you will not call me boy!” The Emperors fist smashed into the old mans’ stomach. “Secondly, you have no idea how to run an empire. Technology is booming and humanity is at peace. My reign is supreme!” This time a fist smashed into Merrier’s face.

“Well, indeed Emperor.” Merrier spat blood to the floor for effect.

“Oh, James, this little book stunt… It’s indeed charming but it seems to inherit your heretic ideas. Unfortunately anyone with that abomination of a book will be killed, or worse. Two days ago, a boy was caught reading the book and was executed on the spot. His blood is on your hands James.” A wry smile came to the Emperors face as he saw Merrier wince at the thought.

“Fuck you boy, I may have blood on my hands but your soul is all-encompassed by the blood of billions of lives! And the soul of your bastard father has even more than that, if it’s humanly possible, though I would hardly class you as human.” He stood up and faced the Emperor, fuming.

“You fool Merrier.” Said the Emperor feeling the warmth of the old mans breath on his neck.

“I have waited for this for so long, My Dear Emperor.” Merriers old fist slammed into the Emperors jaw, there was a sharp, loud Clack sound that told it was broken. The Emperor fell to the floor, after being knocked out cold by the old man. Merrier knew what was coming; he made his peace with God and shut his eyes.

A hail of bullets obliterated his body; his head jerking back as automatic rifle fire cracked it open. Gouts of blood erupted from his chest, and he dropped to the floor as the bloody carcass of a once great man.