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Nova

█████████ COMMISSION

FINAL REPORT

2037-06-15

*Please note that some sensitive information has been redacted, in accordance with the Post-Council Security Act of 2037.*

SUMMARY

In its findings, the Commission has concluded that through at first sheer ignorance, then, increasingly, a calculated campaign of repression and control, ███████████ leveraged the developing situation with ███████████████████ to his economic and political advantage. The Commission recommends the death sentence for ██████, and a rapid removal of his cult of personality, and re-education of the populace.

The Commission, however, recognizes the contributions both ██████ and ████████ made to the war effort; the successful defense of █████ and repellant of the ██████’s army are not to be forgotten. The Commission recommends that Premier ████████’s contributions be highlighted instead.

The Commission, furthermore, recommends a more decentralized government to replace the Nova Transition Government currently in place after the specified date in 2040, to prevent the abuses of the ██████ regime from ever happening again.

Lastly, the Commission recommends an immediate cessation of the further development of ██████████ weapons, and the development of a universal ban on their research and use. The Commission recognizes the sovereign right of the ████████ to control itself, and understands its frustration with the use of these new weapons.

By the authority of Acting Premier ████████, on this day, the fifteenth of June, two-thousand thirty-seven, this Commission has completed its report.

The following report and narrative was composed by ██████████████ under order by the Commission for the purposes of the ongoing investigation. Please do not distribute this report.

CHAPTER 1: SOMETHING, SOMEWHERE, IS WRONG.

Dr. Mark Haller (h.c.), First Marshal of the Condominium of Nova and its Protectorates, Councillor 6 (hon.) of the Eternal Council, had enough titles to fill a small dump truck. He wouldn’t let you forget it, either. But like everyone else, he required sleep. At exactly 4:32 AM on the morning of July 6, 2027, however, the long and drawn-out process of his frankly inevitable downfall began with the shrill shriek of a buzzer.

BZZZZZZZZZT!

Mark flopped over in his bed and grabbed his phone. It was an emergency call.

“Hello?” he asked, in a questionably-woken state.

“Mark, it’s Sol.” said a familiar voice in an unfamiliarly-nervous tone.

“Oh?” Mark asked. In this liminal state on the edge of sleep, he had the feeling deep in his stomach that “something, somewhere, is wrong”.

“I’m in Earth Ops right now. There’s been some kind of data breach and it l-”

“What?” Mark had a bad habit of cutting people off.

“…yes, please let me finish. It looks like there’s been some kind of data breach, and it doesn’t look like anything was stolen, but just deleted. It happened during the night some time, but we’re not exactly sure what was deleted,” Sol explained.

“How can’t you all tell what was deleted?” Mark asked, now suddenly very awake.

“The data in question was stored on an LTO tape in cold storage in the datacenter. It was remotely inserted into the drive, erased, then put back. We’re trying to see what was supposed to be stored on that tape, but no one seems to have a good answer for that.”

Mark frowned. Data breaches and hacks weren’t unheard of at all, but they were always small-scale and more apparently obvious. Publishing fake quotes, stealing sensitive information – nothing had ever just been deleted like that before, and never so quietly.

“Alright, you have my attention. I’ll be there in three hours.” Mark said. He hung up the phone and turned on his light, and stuffed himself into the classic three-piece suit that he always insisted on wearing.

His attention turned quickly from the brewing of trouble to the brewing of coffee. He hadn’t taken a single vacation in the past three years. Regrettably.

He quickly stepped out the door, and into his car. As he drove down the road to the spaceport, he stared out the window and admired the planet that he called home.

Most people thought building a base on the planet Mercury was a “terrible and stupid idea”, as Sol called it at the time. But Mark had a strange fascination with the planet, and built it was. Situated in a crater to protect it from extreme temperatures, a giant dome encircled the base, providing a breathable atmosphere. Most people who lived and worked there were humans, so atmospheric content wasn’t much of a concern.

He arrived at the spaceport and strolled out on the tarmac, in view of his ship that could affectionately be called only “rustic”. He had built it himself years prior, and it showed. As compared to most contemporary starships, it was quite, for lack of a better term, “blocky”. The name was haphazardly stenciled across the side: Impulse. Odd. In my experience with him, he was anything but.

Author’s note: my editors have asked me to please refrain from referring to myself in the first person. I asked if they could find anyone else better to write this narrative, and they replied with a begrudging “no”. I tried my best for the first one-and-a-half pages, rest assured. This is my report, after all.

My relationship with Haller? All in due time, dear reader.

Climbing on board, he flipped switches and tapped keys in a furioso of checklists and standardized procedures. If Haller was nothing else, he was at least incredibly litigious. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if that man had a checklist for brushing his teeth at night.

He passed his ship through the airlock, and took off into the cold Mercurian sky. “Sky” is, of course, a bit of a misnomer for a planet that has little more than a thin exosphere to speak of. Nevertheless, then began the short, three-hour journey to Earth. Not that the Impulse couldn’t make it there in milliseconds – what it lacked in looks, it made up for in speed. Interplanetary speed limits were a big deal back when there was any semblance of a government.

Author’s note: Reader, it is perhaps mean of me to keep tantalizing you with bits of the future of this story. I mean, this report is only meant for a committee, as it is. I wasn’t supposed to write a novel, but what are they going to do about it? There’s barely a government to speak of anymore. But I’m revealing too much. So I’ll reveal some more, and put you at ease: Mark Haller will die. Eventually. How, when, where, and why are details you’ll surely find out later. But die he did. I visited his grave just yesterday. A small plot with an unmarked stone at its head. It’s an ironically humble grave for such a pompous man. I’m getting ahead of myself. So let’s jump back a bit. Allow you to fill me in on Haller’s past, in case you somehow missed all of that during your life.

CHAPTER 2: STARS ARE BORN FROM NOVAS.

On June 18, 2023, ESA satellites detected a small asteroid that had been captured in orbit around the Earth. This was the second time a detection such as that had ever been made. The scientific community was briefly abuzz, but lost interest when the small asteroid deorbited somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.

Somewhere slightly to the left of the Atlantic Ocean, a young physics student was pacing around his grandparents’ farm in rural Iowa. Something was bothering him – he couldn’t quite remember what.

A bright streak flashed across the sky, red in color. It made an abrupt turn to the left, and then to the ground. Before poor Mark Haller could even figure out what was going on, a large, well, thing – smashed into the ground at an alarmingly high speed.

A tsunami of dirt and pulverized rocks knocked Mark off his feet, and buried him up to his knees. He jerked himself out, and cautiously approached what appeared to be a large, well, thing – sitting in a crater in front of him.

He doubted his sanity when a hatch opened on the side, and out crawled a figure only describable as – well, an angel.

No, really. Large, white wings, white robes, even a golden ring around the head. Her head? Mark wasn’t entirely sure. He had more pressing matters on his mind than gender.

“Hello?” he called in vain, as the creature fell to the ground, suddenly crying.

Mark approached her with the same outstretched hand as he would approach a crying dog. He gave the fallen angel a small pat on the head, and sheepishly said, “There, there!”

The figure made an oddly-human laugh. “You’re interesting,” she said unexpectedly, in a soft voice.

“Oh, I suppose so?” Mark asked, a bit unsure if this was a compliment or not. “So, uh, are you an-”

“What you’d call an alien, yes child.” she interjected.

“Child? Oh, no, I’m actually twenty-one, which for our species is-”

“You are a child compared to me.” She smiled.

“Okayyyyy. Do you – have a name?” Mark asked, feeling knocked far off of his guard.

“Neona.”

“Uh huh. After… neon?” Mark asked, curious.

“Absolutely. Neon is the fifth most common element in the universe, and thusly, I’m fifth in command of the universe,” she said with a sly smile.

“Wait, wh-” Neona cut Mark off.

“SH, quiet. I hear something,” Neona cautioned. “It’s not safe here.”

She drew a small device from her cloak, pressed a button, and Mark instantly passed out.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Mark began to wake up, and slowly became aware of his surroundings. It was… odd. The walls were a pristine, glowing white. So were the floors. And the ceilings, too. But on the walls were… posters? Band posters. Contemporary band posters. Mark turned around, and noticed a window, offering a dramatic view of what appeared to be outer space.

“Welcome to outer space,” Neona announced, pointing at the window. “You must have a lot of questions. About life, the universe, e-”

“Actually, my main question is what’s up with all these posters?”

Mark thought Neona blushed. Of course, he couldn’t really see. She was covered head to toe (does she even have toes?) in a pristine black cloak, hence the angelic appearance.

“Admittedly, I’ve taken a taboo liking to human culture. These are some mementos I’ve kept from my visits to your planet,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Visits? Come to Earth often, eh? What for?”

Neona’s sheepish smile instantly gave way to a frown that could only be described as “queasy”. “I really do wish I could tell you, child. But I could get in lots of trouble if I did. In fact, I will be already if the others find out you’re her-”

A panel in the wall swung open, and in walked four other “angels”.

“Uh oh,” Neona squeaked.

Mark had no idea what they were saying; to him, the language they spoke was incomprehensable gibberish. There was lots of what sounded like yelling, and one of them started gesticulating wildly at him. He gulped. This went on for a couple of minutes, until they finally stopped, and Neona turned around to open her mouth.

“Mark, I’d like you to meet my, uh, associates. From right to left: Hydrona, Hela, Oxa, and Carba. Together, the five of us form the Eternal Council. I suppose you could call us the “rulers” of the universe, but really, we take a very “hands-off” approach, mostly guiding regional and planetary governments.”

Mark frowned. “So you’re the famed rulers of the universe and yet no one on my planet has ever seen or heard of any of you? Fascinating,” he quipped.

“Oh, don’t be like that. It’s really the, uh, advanced planets we’re concerned about,” Neona admitted.

Mark scoweled.

Hydrona broke the awkward silence that followed in what was supposedly her native language, whispering to the others as if Mark could actually understand them. Neona nodded, stepped forward, and placed her hand on Mark’s forehead.

What followed could only be described as having a vivid fever dream while completely awake. Mark’s eyes rolled back in his head, and the landscape turned dark. A voice spoke:

In the times before, there was no light, and there was no dark. There was nothing. Then from order came chaos.

A single speck of light appeared in the distance.

All of existence was a singularity. The singularity, noting the need for order, split itself in four.

Mark watched as the speck split in four.

“I am gravity”, said the first figure, and the Universe began to take shape.

“I am the strong force,” said the second, and matter was born.

“I am the weak force,” said the third, and the matter began to change.

“I am light”, said the last, and the Universe began to shine.

The four, noting the need for order, combined their powers for the force of creation.

A group of five hooded figures appeared, floating in space.

“You are five, a council Eternal. You shall watch over all of creation. You are guardians and peacekeepers. You will do whatever is necessary to sustain order in existence, and you will not fail,” the four fundamental forces said in unison.

One of the Council spoke. “And of you?”

The forces replied in a booming unison. “We do not exist as you do. You exist in the Universe. We ARE the Universe.”

The four forces, their immediate job done, disappeared in a colossal wave of energy, and the Universe began to expand outward.

Mark was thrown backwards as an explosion of light screamed across the cosmos.

For eons more the Council ruled over time and space. But the Universe grew too large. Noting the need for order, the five harvested the materials for life, and created their own.

A group of small creatures stood on a riverbank, watching the sky intently.

“You will act in our image and our interest, and assist us in ruling over all of creation,” the Council spoke in unison. The Universe grew and life developed. The Council, as promised, did their job. All was well.

Mark opened his eyes, and woke up.

CHAPTER 3: FALLING STAR

An hour later, the Impulse skidded to a stop on the runway of the Nova Earth Operations Center. NEO, as the “complex” was affectionately called, was Nova’s home on Earth. This “home” also happened to be an unfathomably-large floating fortress docked just off the coast of Bermuda. It was no ship – more like the biggest analogue to an oil rig ever created. It was the size of a very small, crowded city – and that it was.

Many countries, even those who joined Nova, did not want the base built in their borders. Mark also didn’t want to choose favorites, so he went for a compromise: a giant floating city. Bermuda was happy to have it dock there, so there it remained. The whole thing was basically an entire military base condensed into one staggeringly-large vessel. It had everything: a bank, a hair salon, thermonuclear weapons, a bowling alley – you know, the usual.

In all seriousness, Nova enjoyed a very respected position by every single country on Earth, for a good reason: no one wanted to pick a fight with a force that had enough firepower to obliterate every planet in the star system in an instant. Even terrorist groups played nice.

Mark strode into the concourse, and went through security. He could opt out, but he thought it wouldn’t be fair. He was quite humble at that point in time. Quite genuine. He ascended the building up to the top floor, where his office was. Expecting to get a few minutes alone, he was surprised to walk into his office to find Sol and Neona standing inside. Sol was scowling.

“Neona has just informed me that the Council will be handling the data breach investigation, for… whatever reason,” she said, with an air of mild annoyance.

“...Oh?” Mark asked, a bit caught off guard. “We don’t usually get this kind of request,” he added.

“It’s unfortunately not a request. It’s not my decision, either; Hydrona told me to let you both know that we’ll be handling it from here.”

Mark smiled cheerfully. “That’s okay! Have a good rest of your day then.”

“You do the same!” said Neona, and she left the room.

Sol chuckled. “You’re going to do some investigating, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely. I know it’s none of our business, but I can’t pass up a mystery like this! If they’re taking it over from here, it must be really important. I don’t want to miss out on the fun.”

Sol laughed again, then her smile flipped to a frown. “Does it rub you the wrong way at all that they’re keeping us in the dark on this?”

Mark stroked his bare chin. “Not really. I’d think they have a good reason.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Sol said, and left Mark’s office, leaving him alone in the room.

He frowned, got out of his chair, and paced around. He could tell that something, somewhere, was wrong. But that could wait. He had a few hours of prep time before the Earth Planetary Assembly met.

Reader, it may be pertinent at this point to outline the structure of Nova’s operations. It goes (well, went) a little something like this:

At the top of the chain of command was Mark Haller, Marshal of Nova. He acted at the time like a President of sorts.

In charge of operations and policy decisions was the Supreme Assembly. Each member planet of Nova got one representative, as did a couple of groups internal to Nova. Of course, the Supreme Assembly, and even Mark himself, all answered to the Eternal Council.

Each member planet of Nova had its own Planetary Assembly, too. Earth’s consisted of one representative from each member state.

The Justice Department handled the judicial branch of government, and acted as a court subservient to the Eternal Courts that provided judicial services to the universe as a whole.

That just about sums it up, wildly oversimplifying in the process. Earth’s Assembly was scheduled to meet that day.

At that point in time, Nova had 192 member states, leaving just 11 UN-recognized countries that were not a part of it, all of them war-torn Middle Eastern countries.

Oh, right, the UN. The original one collapsed in 2032. It was ugly. The new UN, created after that, was as close to what conspiracy theorists would call a “new world order.” As opposed to the UN of before, this one actually had teeth: legal standing and an army. Those war-torn Middle Eastern countries I mentioned? They were, to put it tactlessly, turned to glass after they refused to cooperate after the great global unrest following the first UN’s collapse.

Anyway, it was time to get ready for the meeting.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“Good morning, all, and welcome to today’s meeting of the Earth Planetary Assembly. Glad to see you all here. Let’s get started,” Mark said, shuffling some papers around.

“Before we get started, I’ll open up the floor for a few minutes for questions, comments, and concerns. Who wants a microphone?” Mark asked. The delegate from the Union of Sovereign States picked up a mic.

“My friend, I would like to relay the concerns our scientists have of your organization’s – how do I say – space junk problem. Just yesterday, yet another one of your satellites crashed in Siberia, just kilometers away from a village!” Delegate Tarasovich said fiercely.

Mark had heard a few complaints from the USS about satellites falling. He opened his mouth to respond, but Tarasovich continued:

“Yesterday’s craft was almost ten times bigger than any others we’ve seen, and this one even had the Council’s blasted name written on it!”

This immediately grabbed Mark’s attention. What was a Council satellite doing swinging around Earth? The plot thickened.

“My apologies, Delegate Tarasovich; we’ll discuss that later,” Mark said, before continuing on.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Soon after the meeting adjourned without incident later that day, Mark stopped by Tarasovich’s office, and knocked on his door. He came in, and Tarasovich was surprised to see the troubled look on Haller’s face.

“Something troubling you, Marshal?”

“Sort of. I think some funny business is going on with the Council, actually. I had no idea one of their satellites crashed in Russia, either. Would your administration mind if we flew out there to take a peek? And clean up the damage, of course.”

“Not at all, and thank you for the cleanup effort.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Not two hours later, Mark and Sol were on-board the Impulse, touching down in the remote forest in Siberia where the satellite had supposedly crashed. Powdery snow filled the air as the ship drifted gently onto the ground. Bundled up in coats, Mark and Sol clambered down the ladder and onto the ground.

Peering around, they immediately noticed a large gash in the treeline up ahead. Both tree and snow were shoved violently out of the way. The two cautiously made their way over to the damage; the deep snow made it slow-going. Eventually, they reached the treeline and kept going into the interior of the forest.

Up ahead was a large mound of dirt, with a large metal thing resting in front of it. The satellite.

It was a gray cylinder, dulled and charred by its fiery reentry. It looked to have previously had antennas, which had been shorn off by the crash. There was an identifier on the side: Eternal Council Explorer 42069. Interesting.

Mark pulled out his phone, and opened the Intergalactic Vehicle Registry, the central database of all registered vehicles in the inhabited universe. He entered the registration number from the satellite.

AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED.

He entered his authorization password.

AUTHORIZATION NOT ACCEPTED. TIER 1 ACCESS REQUIRED.

He frowned. Tier 1 access was reserved for the Council; his was only Tier 2. But he had never encountered something that locked even him out before.

“Trouble?” Sol asked.

“It says I’m unauthorized,” Mark replied. His frown deepened, and he called Neona.

“Hey, it’s Mark. Can you give me a temporary tier 1 access code? A satellite crashed on Earth, and I’m trying to identify it in the registration database, but I’m locked out.”

Silence.

“Hello?”

“We’ll come take care of it. Leave it alone,” Neona finally replied.

Mark’s frown turned to an annoyed scowl. “What’s gotten into you all this week? This is my jurisdiction, just give me the code so I-”

A different voice cut into the line. “This is Hydrona. You will do as we say. Leave it alone and we’ll take care of it. Is that understood?”

Silence.

“Is that understood?”

“Fine,” Mark said, and he hung up, and was immediately startled by a loud bang. He whipped around to see that Sol had kicked off a loose panel on the side of the satellite, exposing the computer within. She began prodding at the terminals with her scan tool, and eventually was able to connect to the console.

“Nice work! Now let me take it from here,” Mark said gleefully, as he started typing. Sol frowned.

“It’s just spitting gibberish onto the screen. I think it may be fried,” Mark said, defeated. Sol peered over.

“Well, that’s a hexadecimal code it’s spitting out. I think it’s a memory address. I can check and see what’s stored there.”

She tapped some keys, and a very different string came up on the screen:

63°58′39″ S 61°48′20″ W.

Coordinates.

The two looked at each other. “I suppose we’re going on a trip then,” Mark said. His frown finally turned to a smile.

Author’s note: The commission has kindly asked me to stop writing such ornate prose, and to write what I assume would be a dry technical report instead. I thanked them for this kind compliment of my writing skills, and reminded them whose report this is. Never mind that I’m on their payroll. Reader, you are no doubt wondering where and/or what the turning point is of this story. Rest assured, for the plot device you’re waiting for is coming shortly. But it’s just that: a plot device. The real turning point happened long ago.

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