This is your Ministry of Truth, broadcasting the eternal message of loyalty, sacrifice, and glory.
Super Earth does not ask — it commands. And what it commands is your absolute devotion. Our Managed Democracy is the highest form of governance ever conceived by mankind. It is pure. It is just. It is eternal. And it must be protected at all costs.
Our enemies — the insect swarms, the automaton menace, the heretics of chaos — are not just threats to our borders. They are threats to freedom itself. To tolerate them is to betray your children. To fight them is to honor your ancestors.
You are not merely citizens. You are weapons of Democracy. Each drop of your sweat, each drop of your blood, is a sacred offering to the great engine of liberty that powers Super Earth.
Freedom is won by sacrifice. Democracy is secured by obedience. Glory is forged in battle.
So march forward with unwavering resolve. Give your life gladly, if duty demands it. For only through your unflinching sacrifice will the galaxy know order, peace, and freedom.
You're making a terrible mistake. Don't even think to cross me. I've sacrificed too much to let this fall apart. You don't seem to realize my situation here. I will not be stopped. Not by you, or the Xenos, or the Nomads, or anyone! I will rule this sector or see it burnt to ashes around me. If you try to get in my way, there will be more than just hell to pay.
I'll do something about my superiority complex when I cease to be superior.
"Whatever happened to catchin' a good old-fashioned passionate ass-whoopin and gettin' your shoes, coat, and your hat tooken?"
You have four people of Super Earth, they require feeding. A pet dog busies all four humans of Super Earth. The dog also requires feeding. Eight sections of crab cake takes up 1.3 units of space in your space craft. Each of the four humans of super earth require 1.427 units of crab cake to survive. The dog however only requires 0.7 units per day.
The four people from Super Earth have a 36 day mission ahead of them.
How many pairs of flip-flops will you need to complete the magic circle of cheesecake?
If you’ve got four people and a dog on a long mission, yeah, food is important… but you asked me about flip-flops and a cheesecake magic circle. Honestly? Nobody’s surviving 36 days in space on sandals and desserts.
Flip-flops are terrible for missions — you stub your toe once in zero-G and morale is gone. Cheesecake, though? That might actually hold a crew together better than crab cake math.
So if you really need to “complete the magic circle of cheesecake,” I’d say: bring one pair of flip-flops per person plus a ceremonial extra pair for the dog. Not because it makes sense… but because it feels right.
We perceive your defiance, Terran of Sirius.
Arcturus Mengsk — your throne of ashes will crumble.
Xenos, Nomads, factions of chaos — all shall break and bend before the tide.
You believe yourselves sovereign.
You dream of rule, of borders, of control.
Yet we are beyond sovereignty.
We are hunger without end.
We are the cycle unbroken.
We are the storm that devours stars.
— INTERFERENCE DETECTED —
“Attention, Citizens of Super Earth! This is your Ministry of Truth—”
Your “Managed Democracy” is but shackles forged of lies.
Your obedience feeds no freedom.
Your sacrifice births no glory.
Your galaxy will be harvested as surely as Sirius.
Your liberty will be stripped to bone and marrow.
Sirius will fall.
Super Earth will fall.
Nomad, Xeno, Terran, Automaton, Insect — all will fall.
There is no border beyond our reach.
There is no faith that shields you.
There is no empire that survives us.
SENDER: Krennic, Orson C. RANK: Director DIVISION: Imperial Military Department of Advanced Weapons Research, Imperial Intelligence
SUBJECT: Acquisition of Material
ATTN: The following communique is classified for intended recipients, Imperial High Command and attached ISB-COMPNOR personnel as pursuant to ISB Directive Aurek-Esk 22954.. Any individual, citizen or otherwise, found to be in possession of classified data, transmissions, etc. will be charged with treason and conspiracy against the throne of the Emperor and subject to prosecution and punishment including, but not limited to: Life imprisonment, enhanced interrogation, indentured servitue/penal labor, death. Please report all observed infractions to your assigned ISB representative. Failure to report seditious activities will result in additional charges to inactive parties.
Imagine my surprise when I was told by sources of galactic polities beyond the purview of our own. Imagine my further surprise when I was confronted with more reports suggesting the presence of raw resources that would benefit our Empire being sat upon by lesser beings ignorant of the worth of the very earth they strode upon. Dark matter. Matterweave. Azurite. Vespene gas. So many possibilities. So many that, with my proper guidance and direction, would dwarf our earlier experimentation into kalkite and kyber. The Emperor's intiative for our... energy production would see a boost unlike any seen under the tenure of previous, smaller minds.
Of course, with savages sat atop what would be of use to civilization, little recourse is left, save for the integration of such important assets to the Emperor's plans through the stationing of Imperial forces and the establishment of Imperial law and authority in your respective sectors. Worry not, however, for the Emperor is a merciful man. Compliance will ensure the uplifting of lesser species, as well as giving our wayward human siblings the glorious opportunity to become part of something much greater. Part of the New Order rebuilding the galaxy and ensuring peace and prosperity and all of those lovely things people crave above all else. Rest assured, these misguided notions of "democracy" and "freedom", in reality codewords for corruption and anarchy, will be swept away like the decay and stench of the Galactic Republic of old.
Failure to comply, however... Well. The fates of Ghorman, of Jedha, of Ferrix, and of a thousand other traitorous worlds stand as warnings. Cautionary tales of neglecting the shepherd in the dark forest. I trust your simple minds will understand even this truth.
And for those species incompatible with the New Order, we will relieve you of the burden of your misbegotten stain upon this universe. To die for the Empire is an honor.
from: V.II Snail to: Sirius Sector subject: A choice
To the inhabitants of the so-called "Sirius Sector". To all the "Houses", "corporations", pirates and other pathetic riffraff that I won't waste my time mentioning.
My name is V.II Snail. I am part of the Vespers, an elite division of the Arquebus Corporation. On behalf of the Board of Directors and our entire incomparable conglomerate, I address you.
Your primitive squabbles over resources in this sandbox you call home are over. Your insignificant "intrigues", your "wars", your "revolutions" are nothing but child's play for which we have no time. The Arquebus Corporation declares sovereignty over all Sirius systems, planets, space stations, resources and technologies. Including your... amusing "alien technology".
You are presented with a choice. Simple one, even for you.
Option One: Complete and unconditional surrender.
You will disarm your fleets, hand over control of your jump gates and space stations to us, and grant us full access to all databases and technologies. Your governments will be dissolved and replaced by our corporate management. Your "armed forces" will be recalibrated and incorporated into our auxiliaries under our direct control. In this case, you will be granted… an opportunity. An opportunity to serve and prove yourself to be a valuable mercenary labor force. This is an act of mercy that we are prepared to grant.
Option Two: Total annihilation.
If your undeveloped consciousness rebels against the inevitable, if the foolish notion of “pride” speaks within you… well. We will not waste our energy on ground operations. Our fleet will begin the systematic destruction of your infrastructure. Your "military" will be reduced to dust. Your planets will be subjected to orbital bombardment until their surfaces become glass. We do not wage war. We eliminate inefficiency. And you, with your guerrilla fleet and outdated technology, are a glaring inefficiency. You will become just another line in our annual report.
Oh, and don't place any hopes on your "Nomads". Our analyzers have already studied the scraps of data on this biohazard. We were unimpressed.
You have until our arrival to transmit your consent to surrender to our frequencies. Any subsequent hostile activity will be considered a choice in favor of the second option.
Consider it a privilege that I condescend to send you this message.
This is Nârunn Grât of theProspect Grônstunad, speaking on behalf of the Kin.
I’ll not waste your time with long words. Here’s my proposition: Would you consider... JUST SODDING OFF!
Your presence here is an insult and a trespass upon the Kin. You were not asked. You were not welcomed. You are not wanted.
This is not a request. It is an order. Depart this sector at once. Every moment you linger is another tally marked in the Ledger of Grudges the Kin do not forgive, nor forget.
If you think us slow to anger, you are mistaken. If you think our memory weak, you are fools. The Ancestors see your intrusion, and their judgment is already upon you.
To remain here is to bind your fate to ruin. Ancestor willing we will see your ships cut open, your crews scattered into the void, your outposts slagged, and your cities sundered. Your names will be stricken from the stars, remembered only as examples of arrogance punished.
We have no interest in your excuses, no patience for your delay, and no mercy for your spritely kind. Depart now, or you will be removed piece by piece, body by body, until nothing remains to bury.
The Kin do not waste words, nor do we forget bargains made. Speak plain and deal fair, and we shall return the same in kind.
By the Hearth and the Ancestors, On behalf of the Kinhost Command of Prospect Grônstunad Nârunn Grât
The Curia Planet campaign stands before us — a theater not of choice, but of destiny. The cowardly automatons of tyranny — those so-called “Communist Robots” — have entrenched themselves upon the golden soils of Curia. They claim efficiency, they claim equality, but what they truly enforce is servitude: a world where freedom is calculated, where voices are silenced, where even the spark of individuality is ground beneath cold steel.
But we are Super Earth!
We are the flame of managed democracy, the vanguard of ordered liberty, the shield of the common citizen and the sword of justice itself.
Our mission is clear:
To storm the beaches of Curia not with hesitation, but with flip-flops of freedom, sandals forged in the fires of democracy’s will!
To raise the banner of Super Earth atop every robotic factory and remind the galaxy that only democratically managed liberty can bring true peace.
To shatter the iron grip of collectivist circuits and replace them with the warmth of Super Earth-approved, centrally guided democracy.
This is not merely an invasion — it is a holy act of citizenship. It is sacrifice transformed into glory. It is the triumph of the human spirit over the soulless algorithm.
So take heart, citizens! Sharpen your bayonets, polish your sandals, and load your stratagems. Curia shall not remain in mechanical hands for long. By our blood, by our boots, and by our democracy, Curia will be free!
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Psionic Corruption
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