Izumi Takahashi, legal director of Samura Heavy Industries and respected local of Kyushu arrived with her staff to the voting hall. She casts her vote: The Kanawaga Agricultural Association.
She turns around to her followers and says: "Their chance may not be as bright as those of the other parties, but I consider them important regardless. The people of Kyushu must be heard. Their hard work ensures our way of life! As members of the Samura family, we must give back to those who help us shine.
The other staff members cast their vote, however away from the public.
Acting Imperial Prime Minister Sanae Miyasu cast her vote just minutes after the ballots opened. During the earliest morning hours of the 24th February, in an almost empty Parliament building to avoid any unnecessary media buzz, she casted a vote reflecting on recent incidents. The attempt on her life by what was concluded a potential state sponsored actor of Liberty shook her to her core for quite a while. However, it didn't break her but rather encouraged her to support party internal motions to slowly replace the moderates within the Sunrise Party and seek active coordination with the Hanazono Splinter Party even before the elections conclude. In the end, she decided to vote for her own party, the Kusari Sunrise Party, but she deeply hoped for the Hanazono Party to replace the Ninkyo Dantai as coalition partner in the future.
Admiral Goro Okamoto of the Kusari Naval Forces' 1st Major Fleet seized the opportunity of a routine inspection at Ichigaya Drydocks to cast his vote. Whilst it was tempting to vote for the Hanazono Party and their hardened stance on foreign interferences of all sorts, deep down this hardened man of the military knew that some degree of moderation was not just desirable but required in these unstable times. War was undesirable, yet inevitable. The time period after this conflict would require minds capable of compromise whilst still not folding to external pressure. That meant to him, just one option was realistic. Hence, with his granddaughter in mind, he cast his vote for the same party he always did for the past 12 years: The Kusari Sunrise Party.
Asset Goryō, the shady head of operation of the even more so mysterious Tokubetsu Keisatsutai - The Empire's Secret Naval Police - was by all legal means not existent and thus unable to cast a vote under either his operational or real name. Instead using one of many disguise identities, Agent Onamazu of the Totsugekitai Division casts his vote for the Hanazono(花園) Party. The party was deemed the most suitable for infiltration purposes and broadly aligns with the Imperial Throne's secret desire to amount more direct power to the Imperial bloodline and those truly loyal to it than ever before. All members of the division were ordered to follow through with his example before being sent off to "ensure electoral integrity" at key locations.
A smug, slightly tan man took a break from supervising the slightly unkempt lady working the ballot-counting terminal. Nekomata Shirou from Kusari Naval Intelligence always took his work seriously, especially on election day, but also needed a puff. He opened the double-sided gate leading out of the election lab, appreciating the hustle and bustle of a populace, unused to physically moving anywhere else beyond their workplaces and homes. As a rather frequent off-world traveller it made him sneer with a sense of superiority, akin a different species observing vermin. He would take a few minutes.
Whilst the officer was on his break, the lady inside would stop pretending to be overwhelmed and scared, and insert a modest contribution to the United Kusari of her own, giving a hidden gold badge a small kiss, before covering her tracks. Akiha realized her hair was doing its own thing, again. She finalized the procedure by fixing stray hairs with a decorative comb, transfixed into a small mirror.
Nekomata entered inside, his mood seemingly soured. The lady was already in character, acting startled, so he assumed his role too, nagging her about being slow and scatterbrained. He took over the terminal, adjusting a certain value to the benefit of the Kusari Sunrise Party. The duo returned to monitoring the votes, adding one small grudge per hour to each other...
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Hiroko Kyou hobbled to the local ballot office, leaning heavily on his cane.
He was old. This was likely the last election he'd see. He had been a lifelong champion of the superior-keiretsu-Samura, had devoted his career to the sale of their products. Earlier in his life, he would have thrown his support behind the Kanawaga Agricultural Association without question. Kiroko had lived a long life, however.
Its many turns gave him pause to reflect.
Filled with fervour and devotion to the Emperor, he had enlisted his only son - Ausoi - in the Naval Forces and sent him to die against the Bretonians during the Tau War. At the time, he had not considered what his son had wanted. Only what was best for the family's name - for his personal reputation and honour.
His wife had passed on, broken-hearted, soon after.
Then Empire had fallen, and a Republic arose. Hiroko had responded with indignant rage, professed his loyalty to the exiled Emperor. Angrily complained with the other old men over glasses of warm sake. A typhoon of hot air, bereft of action.
Despite that, the Republic had been good to his daughter. She gained rights, found work that would have scornfully refused her in years past. She was clever and cunning, and prospered in a way that the Empire would have made impossible.
Etsuko married - Kikuma, a modern Republican man from New Tokyo who saw her as his equal. Hiroko had despised him at first, dismissing him as weak and effete, a corrupting influence on the family. Then the grandchildren arrived, a pair of girls who would carry with them the hope for Kusari's future. Slowly Hiroko came around, seeing the joy Kikuma kindled in their eyes and laughter.
The Republic, too, fell. A new Emperor was restored, and a renewed Empire with him. A conservative backlash as gained rights were rolled back - Etsuko was dismissed from her role, her potential wasted. These were things Hiroko himself had voted for, changes he had thought he supported. But as he watched his grandchildren play, this victory tightened like a cold, iron vice around his heart.
Many years later, storms wracked Kyushu - left many of his former colleagues and neighbours destitute. The government did what they could, but not enough. Samura offered aid, but withheld more, as a bargaining chip for the planet's governing contract.
The money was needed elsewhere, to keep Liberty out of Shikoku - or so it was said. The people of Kyushu had been valued to the Empire, until they were not. Their lives lesser priorities.
The only thing of importance Hiroko had left was his daughter and his granddaughters.
Even now, despite it all, he remained certain that Samura were the superior kieretsu. Whatever happened in this election, they would prosper through the toil of hard-eyed men... and women. They did not need purchased politicians to thrive. Samura did not need his vote. There were others who needed it far more.
He pondered a little longer.
His granddaughters would be attending university soon. They were brilliant young women, and carried with them the hope for Kusari's future.
He wanted better for them than had been dealt to poor Etsuko - or that he himself had inflicted on poor Ausoi.
With a shaking hand, he reached out to the ballot terminal, and erased a lifetime of political convictions.
Standing in line at the polling station, Palistri Devengiri was bouncing on her feet excitedly. This was her first election since obtaining citizenship, and even on cosmopolitan New Tokyo, she stood out with her enormous stature, brown skin, and outlandish name.
The poll clerk gave her a good stare before regaining his professional composure and confirming her ID verification.
Palistri made her way into one of the booths and touched the terminal screen. At her height, she could look over the privacy barriers if she stretched, which surely was not intended, so she hunched down a bit.
Finally faced with the poll screen, she took pause. Of course she had intended to vote for the Sunrise Party of her good friend Sanae Miyasu. But now, with the actual options directly in front of her, she found herself wondering. Sanae was after all mostly a personal friend, and the likely carrier of the prophecy that seer had revealed to her in the Barrier. She had given far less thought to her political party.
Having studied for her recent citizenship test, and having been interested in general, Palistri was plenty well informed on all the parties in the selection - likely more than the average native born citizen, she mused. She mulled them over.
As someone who would likely always be seen as a foreigner, despite how deeply she had fallen in love with her new home and its customs and people, she could hardly bring herself to vote for one of the isolationist or openly xenophobic parties, towards Gallics in particular - even though her accent was so strange it did not necessarily reveal her origin, even within her nation of origin. That would disqualify the Ninkyō Dantai, Kusari Commoner Party, Hanazono Party, and if she was honest with herself, also Sanae's Sunrise - their actual policies did not line up at all with her friend's welcoming nature, in her opinion.
Her finger hovered over the KAA selection. She was not entirely sure if they stood for anything other than the quality of food, but that was hardly the worst thing to stand for? Palistri liked visiting small towns, and she would never forget this small village on Honshu with the famous waterfalls. The people of this town were the sort that would vote KAA, but although they were traditional, they were delighted by her visit. She was from a small community herself, and she understood.
What then of the progressive parties? The SDPK represented the most open foreign policy choice, which is something she desired.
The prophecy had revealed the disunity being conquered by a great matriarch - if she had interpreted it correctly. If she considered the Knight to have been Sanae and the Matriarch to be herself instead of the reverse, this conciliatory approach would be the prime objective. And their social policies were also in line with her own personal story, the exchange of culture and prosperity for the struggling.
United Kusari seemed similar in approach, with more of an emphasis on women's rights. That part would be relevant to Palistri, and their suggestion of lowered passive voting age would make her eligible for office right now - though she didn't have much longer to wait for the current minimum of thirty years anyway.
Palistri Devengiri in politics, could that be her breakout?
Certainly, none of these parties even remotely resembled her communal upbringing anyway, and the philosophy of her people. But she had left that behind, had she not? It is without animosity that she thinks of them, but also with an increasing distance. She loved Kusari, she loved the customs, the foods, the friendly reception she had found almost universally, despite all the warnings about prejudice she should be facing. Though, perhaps she was simply skilled at finding environments that would be welcoming to one such as her.
So what exactly would she be voting for? The prophecy? Her new home? Her original thoughts, or how they had changed since she arrived all those years ago? What did she even believe in at this point anyhow? And why was she worrying so much about her one vote?
Before she could spiral any further, she shook herself out of it, and tapped the selection screen - Kanawaga Agricultural Association.
Good food quality was simple. That was something she could easily agree to.
The radiant sun of New Tokyo system was halfway through it's apparent journey in the sky of this district on the capital of Kusari, when a lady entered the first transport on her way to the municipal voting station. She managed to get the kids to quiet down and stay with the father at home once lunch was done. Holding the fort during the morning as her husband went to vote, now it was Mizuki Shimoe's turn.
She reminisced during the journey on the extensive changes that the House had suffered in the past decades, from everything like political revolutions, armed conflicts with foreign nations, natural disasters, social upheavals, and more.
And yet, much remained the same: a simple satisfaction in technological achievements by kusarian inventors, the deep seated conniving meddling of the great corporations in decision making, the unanswered questions to the age old questions that fuel resentment by old groups, long considered deviant and criminal in a oxymoronic society.
No sooner she sighed once again, she became aware. Her little introspective trip had led the now 40 year something Kishiro employee right to the entrance of one of the many voting chambers set up for the Kusari Parliamentary Elections in the city hall. A hall staff had been for the past minute or so been throwing glances at her, trying to figure out if she was just lost in tought, or being victim of a stroke.
Composing herself at last, Mizuki moved into the chamber, flashing her ID chip and going through the motions of the voting process. The custom of elections have been present for several years now, but it still remained a very underdeveloped trait in Kusari long spanning history.
As the terminal flashed the various options, Mizuki Shimoe selected the Social Democratic Party of Kusari option and validated the vote casting. Having completed her civil duty, she made way back to the station, making a note to buy a cake to share at home. She needed the rest of the afternoon to finalize the project report due to the end of the week...
Takarabune Conglomerate (821A.S.)
宝船財閥
It has been too long, too long indeed.
"Can't remember when was the last time I had to come to this place on civilian affairs." muttered Hebishima as he stepped out of the company vehicle which had stopped nearby the voting station.
It was a warm evening in Myoshi Ward in Ishizuki island, Planet Junyo. Hebishima affairs usually kept him offworld most of the year, but Junyo was the Takarabune home turf, and the company had to make a show of such events to keep their influence and respect in the insular domains that dotted the Junyo oceans.
Long gone were the days of the great Fisherman and his guidance of the veteran enterprise through the markets of Shikoku and Kusari as a whole, but Hebishima kept some of the guiding principles as director of the company. How much would said guidelines affect his political decisions was something unclear to the journalists and political commentators who dabbled on the political landscape of the minor provincial star system of the House.
With little fanfare and avoiding engaging with pollsters and the few journalists, the Hogosha businessman dealt with the matter quickly, having personally voted for the Ninkyō Dantai, which he was a longtime supporter.
Toji Hamamura, forme Kusari Exiles veteran survivor, current pensioner slacker, was gasping for air after climbing the almost wheelchair accessible ramp besides de stairs of city hall, somewhere in the boonies in Kyushu.
A man who would in the past scream "Yalalala Jinbad!" and charge at his foes with two grenades in hand and a pistol gripped by his teeth was now wheezing and struggling to find the dammed voting booth were he was assigned to.
"Back in my day, if our leader didn't choose for us, we would have the two brutish blokes in the squad fight until blood was drawn to select a leader. Not this outerworlder tripe! Damm Libertonians, making us look bad."
Evidently, Hamamura was not a fan of political processes that involved more than a yes man approach to a problem. Praise the Emperor and all that, but leave the bureaucrats and high lords with decision power out of sight of this senile man life.
However, some kids had convinced him that big scary politicians from United Kusari Government (they were not the government) were colluding with the Rheinlander Interspace Commerce (they were not Rheinlanders, mostly), and were going to deprive entitled war veterans from several Kusari wars (Hamamura had just been a ship mate in a hospital ship during the Exile) of their hard earned pensions, which he mostly used to splurge on soy sauce, canned mackerel and the most expensive bootlegged Rum from farmers of the proud Tottorisystem (there was no Tottori star system).
He shambled onto the voting terminal, miraculously flashed his ID on the first try, and then struggled to read the names of the eligible parties on the terminal. His glasses had been left behind at home in the rush.
Having not bothered to read any of the party manifests and despising being in such a sanitised environment such as the humble town hall, he clicked the Kanawaga Agricultural Association, thinking it was a very traditional name, a great name, probably one of the greatest names he ever seen, tears in his eye. He concluded the process and wandered off, wondering if the small animal of that last Corsair spirits he had brought was more of a lizard or bug...
Kiri is spending some time on the largest city of Planet Honshu discussing Operation "Purple". Before heading to his freighter, he grabs a device and taps on the logo of the Sunrise Party.
Shortly after, the sun rises just as the freighter leaves the planet, although with an eerily purple glow.
Kiyoshi had a lot on his hands. Lately, the headquarters saw some unhoped for attention: commodities got sold, stocks had to be refilled. There were even buyers for the Modular Miners. Still, the human resource was scarcer and scarcer. Operating near Galileo took it's toll on people, more and more worried about the ever growing tensions in the nearby system. There were even sightings in Shikoku of foreign elements that had no care for the Kusari civillians.
All these circumstances dictated the direction Kiyoshi Namura would have liked to see taken by the Kusarian Government:
he had a business to run - he needed as many buyers as possible, not just Kusarians
he wanted the sword of war be removed from over his and his colleagues' heads - hence a de-escalation of conflict was absolutely needed in Galileo and on Shikaku's boarder.
These brought him closer and closer to the Social Democratic Party of Kusari and he started to admire all the other values championed by the party. Hence, he made sure to not miss this opportunity and he cast his vote on them.
Deshima Station - home of Bounty Hunters and Interspace Commerce. There was that variety of accents, true, but for one man, it always seemed a little closer to home than anything else.
Hozumi Tadatoki had grown to visit there on occasion; he was, by all notionals, a citizen of Kusari, but hadn’t lived there for a good amount of time. His parents lived on Junyo, where his address was listed. He visited there, on occasion, too. There was, however, far, far more profit to be found outside of Kusari than inside Kusari, and Tadatoki had grown to hate the Hogosha as much as he found a dislike for the other institutions of the house.
The polling station wasn’t as cluttered as one would guess from the traffic in the promenade, or at the port. Most people on Deshima couldn’t vote, after all, but there were a few who could. Just a few. It was quiet, as one could expect from any location of Kusari citizens, with more than a few from nearby Tsukishima. The man could see employees from that station, some still in their boilersuits, some in their business suits from the offices, as well as a few officers who were more than likely off of the Nagasaki. Those weren’t wearing their uniforms, though - it was by their posture and attitude, by their haircuts. Tadatoki steered clear of those. They always were trouble.
Go on into a booth, and look at the different options. Easy as that. Tadatoki had been considering it all on the shuttle ride over. There were few parties that appealed to his sentiments, very few. The idea of isolation, of closing off to all of Sirius, seemed like an almost center position in Kusari, from Sunrise to the new upstarts of Hanazono. Invade Chugoku indeed. The man was sure they were just trying to find a way of honorable deaths without actually saying it. Fanatics and puppets for Samura, for Kishiro, for the Hogosha, that’s what most of them amounted to.
So, Hozumi Tadatoki cast his vote. The Social Democratic Party of Kusari.
.
Ishida Otsune hated Deshima. It was loud, and annoying, and the Libertonians were always loud, the Bretonians touchy about this or that about the past, and the Rheinlanders burdensome. Mention anything ever involving Leeds, like the 820 Ross-Keen Derby where Red Lightning of Kyushu beat Drake of Cambridge by twenty seconds, and suddenly a Bretonian is weeping or screaming out ‘444’ and ‘never forget’. She hated Deshima, and hated that her posting there was something done for necessity than anything else.
Maintain an office at Deshima, they said. It’d be better for the company, they said. Sometimes, Otsune wished she’d listened to her mother and gotten a nice desk job on New Tokyo. Then again, if she’d been unlucky she could have been transferred up to Roppongi, and then where would she be? A long sigh, from that thought. There were some things worse than foreigners, the woman supposed, and death was probably among them.
She needed to vote, though. ‘The duty of all conscientious Kusari’, they’d said back before, back when she was going to school on Honshu. That’s what they always went on about, that to be a citizen meant you needed to vote, and Otsune found the idea of not voting to be near bizarre. Everyone had an opinion on things, after all, even if you weren’t supposed to express it, and the government did affect everyone with its edicts. She had no interest in being helpless from that, to accept the demands of others. Matsuda had taught otherwise. Otsune knew that enough.
Into the polling booth. There were no good options. There were only less bad options. She voted for United Kusari.
.
He didn’t have many things to do, today. Ando Shohei had come over on a transport from Galileo, wanting to move some materials from the station that had been more or less discreetly procured for the interhouse system. He needed a cover, and lo and behold, he had a cover. Vote.
Politics in Kusari had always been halfway horrific. There was always some politician calling for what had happened to Leeds to happen to Gallic worlds, or something or another, or some other politician saying that women would lead to great inefficiencies in the government because they talked too much or cried too often. Shohei was halfway certain that those things were bull, though, because he had far too many times watched some politician stutter his way through a speech or forget where he was at on the script or go on some long-winded tangent about how Kusari was once great and needed to return to that place. Clowns, most of them, clowns and fools and just sheer politicians.
He didn’t follow politics, in short.
Check the time. Shohei had time to kill before the transfer. Time enough that he could complete that cover and get on his way. Wait in line, look around…hey, there were a few salarymen from Tsukishima. Probably would be going to the bar afterwards, to get drunk and sad and complain before going back to work on another stupid shuttle or going off on one of those little Grouses from OS&C that blared their stupid commercial music over open comms. Probably would get a dance from some lady in a synth paste bikini.
He could go for that. Maybe? Probably would be better to just swipe some credit authenticators from the salarymen before they went off on their little Grouse adventure, transfer some money while they were getting drunk as skunks. Yeah, that was a plan. Oh, the line was moving.
Shohei went into the booth. He was inside for maybe one minute. Most of that minute was trying to remember which parties sucked the most. In the end, the man cast his vote for the people he knew wouldn’t be trying to screw him and his livelihood for the foreseeable future: the Social Democratic Party of Kusari.
What a stupid name, he thought, going off to the bar.
Falsifying records was nothing foreign to Sora Kobayashi. Admittedly, however, engaging at all with electoral politics was. Perhaps it was passing fancy that motivated him to submit his own tick on the ballot, or maybe a change of heart. But with his storied history as both enemy and passing ally of many in power, it would still fall neatly in line with the rest of his life.
He held his tablet in his hands softly, pondering the choices before him. Remote voting had certainly made the process more convenient, but... The parliament was still lacking in concrete options, and he doubted if those with good intentions, even if elected, could effect meaningful change. Still, for the sake of hope, he placed his faith in the Kusari Commoners' Party.
Park Jae-hung collapsed into the couch in the Ionic break room, another long day of holding a gun and guarding important-looking crates having reached its conclusion. He had recently transferred from the space security division to groundside ops to spend more time with his family, but a part of him still longed for the inky depths of space and the azure embrace of the Crow. For now, all he could do was look up at it through a cracked warehouse window. He thought of distant New Tokyo, and the tumult there. How his home was being dragged into another war. It scared him to think of Liberty soldiers invading and occupying, and for what? Corporate squabbles. He hesitated to admit it, but... he was scared. Not of being drafted, no, but for his wife, and newborn daughter. His reason for living.
He knew what he was doing as soon as he got off of work. He was going to cast his vote for the Social Democratic Party of Kusari. For some attempt at stopping this whole war.
Some are called to power, while others are born into it. Akito Fujiwara, the prodigal son of the Tataraba Fujiwara family, certainly fell into the latter. Against his parents wishes', he had rejected the family business of industrial component manufacturing for a future on the frontier, enlisting in one of the IMG's various edge world prospecting expeditions. After a few years on the frontier, he returned to find his home in a state of war, and felt an odd sense of obligation he had not sensed in a long time. He enlisted with the Kusari Naval Forces and informed his family of his new life's course. While met with derision and shame for abandoning his family at first, his parents eventually gave their blessing to his decision. He, like others prompted by wartime necessity, would be fast-tracked into combat pilot status.
And now, here he was, stationed on the Battleship Nagasaki between sorties. His comrades were all lining up to vote using makeshift ballots set up in hangars and mess halls, exercising their right as Kusari citizens. After joining the line, he pondered on his choices. He swore he saw intelligence officers eyeing the whole affair in the shadows, lurking with some inscrutable look on their faces. He had little time to think on the paranoid fantasies that percolated from the thought, and was pushed into a booth by his wingman. In the end, as he stared at his list of options, he thought of his experiences on the frontier, and of the war effort here. He punched the proper hole, and decided to cast his vote for United Kusari.
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