Faction Kopperia: The Gears Begin to Turn

[Boris Petrovi Yroslavov]

As Fleet Admiral Boris Petrovich Yaroslavov sat quietly sipping from his cup of oil, staring at the empty void before him from the conning tower of the KIF Presledov. "How beautiful it is. The void of space. The endless expanse gifted by our creator."

He mused, taking a sip before moving to the plate of raw meat sitting before him. Retracting his right hand in exchange for a serrated knife, the other for a fork. He cut up the raw steak into fine chunks before carefully picking them up with the fork, biting down and grinding them up before swallowing, the blood helping him to cool his system as he drank it down with oil. Truly, for a Razborka drone, there was little he could think of as better than this. Except perhaps seeing a defeated enemy lying prostrate before him. Speaking of which, he soon received a knock at the door. "Enter." He stated evenly once he finished swallowing his latest bite and wiped the blood and oil from his mouth with a napkin.

Yet, to his dismay, rather than one of his aides, the drone who entered was none other than Chief Councildrone Alexei Gregorovich Pushilin, his chromed head, hands, brown suit, and grey ushanka unmistakable. What could this old fool possibly want?

 

[Alexei Pushilin]

Chief Councildrone Alexei Gregorovich Pushilin steadied himself as he walked inside to find the Fleet Admiral in the middle of dinner, a small speck of blood still evident on his cheek, though he dared not say anything to offend him. Despite being assigned to oversee this particular colonial venture, he'd wanted nothing more than to remain on his old council with his comfy home close to his children, rather than being transferred to this particular frontier.

But, of course, once assigned by the First Consul of Kopperia, there is no refusal. For he, like all Kopperians, are gears put in place to grind and shift one another to ensure their entire civilization functions smoothly.

However, nothing could have prepared him for the machinations of the Razborka drone before him. The Fleet Admiral, supposedly subordinate to his authority, had completely and utterly outmaneuvered him from the moment they put him in charge of the 9th fleet. Of course, as much as Alexei wished to hold it against him, he couldn't. After all, the Admiral was everything he was not. But, all the same. He considered it highly unproductive to fight amongst themselves when the situation they found themselves in required such high risk. Especially when he knew that, if it weren't for their civilization. There would be nothing standing in the way of Boris ripping him in two for any attempt at rebellion.

"Ah, yes, well, greetings, Your Excellency. I, uh, wished to provide the reports on resource allocation myself." Alexei said sheepishly, his voice stammering, his blue eyes lightly flickering with anxiety. Of course, it was the truth. Otherwise, he never would have spoken with the Admiral face to face.

 

[Boris Petrovi Yroslavov]

The Admiral nodded politely as he gestured for Alexei to join him. Grateful this was purely about logistics. "Very well. Please, sit down. After all, I have as much invested in this as you do." He stated, the Chief Councildrone doing as instructed before both began pouring over the manifests. As one would expect, everything was neat, easily analyzed, and cataloged by importance.

There was an oil deficiency on Urozhay VI, though it came as no surprise. The transport ships had been moving much needed ore between asteroid belts and their production stations in preparation for the planned naval expansion. Soon to commence once the needed materials reached their destinations.

Aside from this, everything seemed to be running smoothly. After all, the KIF Mochalivi had already been dispatched to reconnoiter nearby sectors, and had made good progress while local extraction, production, and distribution remained stable.

Yet, just as he and Alexei were about to wrap up. The tablet at Boris's desk side lit up with a buzz, and he quickly snatched it up with narrowed eyes.

"To Fleet Admiral Boris Petrovich Yaroslavov
Contact made: Omwat sector
Faction Contacted: Galactic Republic
Status: Neutral
Situation: "Dark Crusade" besieging planet Umwat. Intervention promised. Dark Crusade believed to be aligned with Kordia, though unconfirmed.
Status: KIF Mochalivi returning to sector Urozhay VI"

 

[Alexei Pushilin]

Alexei watched the Admiral in silence, his eyes widening as he saw the Admiral read the message on the tablet. Though what it was, Alexei could only assume, until at last, Boris looked up, eyes widened before sitting back in his chair.

"Admiral, are you alright?" He questioned, only to receive no response. Not until the Razborka drone shook his head.

 

[Boris Petrovi Yroslavov]

Without uttering a word, Boris stood up, his tail, before sitting limply on the floor, doing likewise, the syringe head hovering at the level of his head.

"That will be enough for now. You are dismissed."

Boris stated coolly. Yet, rather than immediately leave, Alexei opened his mouth. But, before any words came out, the Admiral silenced him with a mere eye gesture, and the Chief Councildrone swiftly resigned before exiting as quickly as he could. As soon as he was gone, again took his tablet. After finding the correct numbers, he dialed them.