The Fractured Federation

North Island. As the capital of the Federation, it was both the largest and most prosperous island in the Southern Sea. Though its resident population barely exceeded ninety thousand, it was home to the Federation's largest heavy industrial base and shipyard. Counting the destroyer Glory, which had already sunk into the sea, nine of the Federation's thirteen naval vessels had been built here. The remaining four submarines had been produced at the submarine yards of Anle Island and Coral City. After seizing armed control of the Presidential Palace and Navy Headquarters, Zhalas, backed by the Federation Marine Corps, declared himself the new president and delivered his inaugural address over the radio. "...It is with a heavy heart that I inform you all: our president has committed an unforgivable crime of treason. "With our fleet already holding overwhelming supremacy and on the verge of ultimate victory, he actually intended to overturn the verdict on our enemies' atrocities! He sought to manufacture twisted, fabricated evidence to destroy the unity we fought so hard to forge. "I will never allow such a thing to happen, even if he was once the man I respected most. "Hunger, disease, forced labor, the crushing of dissent... As long as they wore that blue coat, everything was deemed lawful! Go ask your fathers and grandfathers; they'll tell you what kind of disgusting faces those hermit crabs used to wear! Go ask them! Who really built the artificial island completed in Year 50 of the Wasteland Era?! Was it those things that suddenly popped out half a century later, or was it us, who lived here from the very beginning?! "They were merely lucky enough to be born inside a shelter, and suddenly the Era of Prosperity belonged solely to them! Everything built with tools from the Era of Prosperity became their exclusive patent! Meanwhile, we survivors who endured generation after generation of suffering on the outside, who rose from the ruins, became monkeys in need of re-education! "As if we appeared out of thin air! As if we were leeching off what they ate and used! As if we were squatting in settlements they built, all because our fathers weren't glorious enough, because our fathers never lived a single second in that Era of Prosperity! Go ask the old bastards in your homes—ask them if that's how it really was! "What we must settle accounts for was never just a single ocean-current power station, but everything from the past century! They believe that power station was their doing, that only they are the true remnants of the People's Federation, that only they are worthy of inheriting the People's Federation's legacy! To them, our blood and sweat are as worthless as our voices—we are nothing more than beasts of burden for rebuilding their utopia! In that case, let them take their arrogance and crawl back underground! Our names were never written into that utopia!" Those impassioned words echoed across the plaza before the Presidential Palace, resonated through the shipyards, reverberated across the barracks, and rang throughout the settlements of North Island... People halted their work and gathered around the loudspeakers. Hatred and fury slowly ignited across their silent faces. Zhalas had prepared no script, nor did he need one; public speaking was a talent born into him. Moreover, he was one of the few who had drafted the manifesto—calling him a founding father of the Federation would be no exaggeration—and he was also a hardliner who enjoyed immense popularity within the military. Though President Meng Ge was the Commander of the Federation Navy, that was merely a duty conferred upon him by the manifesto—or rather, the constitution. The military had never placed him in that position out of genuine adoration. In both temperament and conduct, the man was a bureaucrat bordering on pedantic—an opinion shared by both the officers and Zhalas himself. As a conservative, he might have enjoyed the backing of most survivors and establishment personnel, but his support in the armed forces fell far short of Zhalas's. And that man had indeed done something foolish. It wasn't turning a blind eye to the ocean-current power station, nor was it appointing Zhalas as his Chief of Staff. Rather, it was his vain attempt to fuse two fundamentally discordant factions together through a single political gamble. The conservatives and radicals indeed both needed a federation, but their motivations were entirely different. The former sought equality of status and political rights, while the latter sought liberation from the shackles of the "ghosts" of the Era of Prosperity. The men commanding giant warships and heavy guns had never claimed they wanted a president who played by the book. Their ambitions went far beyond a mere federation, far beyond serving as the ramparts of a state. This might originally have been resolved through negotiations and mutual concessions, but a military and political gamble had shelved all debate. Born in injustice, this Federation was like a handful of sand squeezed in a fist: it was never real stone, and there had not been enough time for it to harden into one. The moment the fingers loosened, it would crumble back to what it was. Of course, Zhalas admitted he had done something foolish as well: he had lied so much that he had begun to believe it himself. When signing that manifesto, he should have clearly recognized that he was an opportunist who never had the luxury of taking things slow. Once the war ended and the President opened the eye he had previously kept shut to reopen the investigation into the sinking of the ocean-current power station, Zhalas, who had helped the Church of the Torch pull the wool over everyone's eyes, would inevitably face a reckoning—as would every officer involved. The new administration would certainly do so. After all, by purging the real culprits, they could sever ties with the past and walk hand-in-hand with the residents of Shelter 70 into a new era. As for himself and his supporters, no one would thank them for their contributions to Federation unity; they would spend the rest of their lives staring at iron bars. Yet for that very reason, everyone directly or indirectly implicated in the destruction of the power station was his natural ally! They had to choose him. They had no other choice! Only if he won could correct memories be shaped, ensuring they wouldn't end up as fools who had dropped rocks on their own feet! Gazing at the ignited eyes beneath the podium, Zhalas announced the final verdict in a steady, solemn voice. "...President Meng Ge refused to face legal trial. Not only did he resist to the bitter end, but he also attempted to stage a coup. He has now been shot dead by our soldiers. "The manifesto signed by a criminal is no longer valid. A new cabinet will draft a new code of laws, and for now, I shall serve as Acting President. "Until our final victory is achieved!" ... Anle Island. Home to just over fifty thousand people, this picturesque island hosted the Federation's largest naval logistics base. Half the island's inhabitants were active Federation Navy personnel and their families, or at least worked in naval logistics. Naturally, there were also refugees from Coral City. The Southern Sea's earliest shipyard had been established here, and the first transport ships and seabed mining vessels had set sail from its shores. If Ring Island was the first artificial island completed by the survivors of the Southern Sea, then this was the first natural island where the spark of industry was ignited—even before the gates of Shelter 70 had swung open. And it was thanks to parts manufactured on this island that the underwater wonder of Coral City came to be, followed later by North Island's heavy industrial center and massive shipyards. Yet at this moment, the island that had first kindled the fires of industry was engulfed in a different, invisibly burning flame. First came Captain Dongwen's dying words, followed by the news of the destroyer Glory's sinking, and then Chief of Staff Zhalas's inaugural address, riddled with lies. This string of appalling developments ignited the fury of the base's soldiers and officers. In fact, right up until the soldiers on dock duty received Captain Dongwen's last message from the coastal patrol captain, many on this naval base had been Zhalas's supporters, even justifying his actions under the pretext of "Federation unity." Yet when the absurd news broke that "the Glory was lost due to a mutiny among its crew," few remained willing to believe another lie spewed from his lips. No one doubted that the man had lost his mind—he was willing to make the Federation fleet turn its guns on itself for his selfish desires. And anyone following him had to be mad as well. Officers loyal to the constitution acted immediately, throwing Zhalas's cronies and associates behind bars. Until it was confirmed that these men would not follow Zhalas in his madness and had deeply repented for their past words and deeds, they would not be released from the dark cells. At the very moment Zhalas delivered his inaugural address, General Li Minghui—thrust to the forefront as Federation Vice President, Deputy Commander of the Federation Navy, and supreme commander of the Anle Island Naval Base—delivered a public speech over Anle Island's military broadcast network. "...Just moments ago, we collectively bore witness to the darkest, most shameful chapter in Federation history. In a disgraceful act of treason, we not only lost the Glory and the two hundred brave young men aboard her, we not only lost our President, but we also lost the manifesto we signed together, and the dignity we maintained for less than four months. "Zhalas seeks to drag our Federation into a bottomless abyss with lies. This war is no longer a war—it is his instrument for seizing power and purging dissent. Now, this 'Kraken' in human skin has finally bared his ravenous appetite and fangs, trying to pull us into the abyss. "We will never compromise with a beast, nor will we accept a compromised peace maintained by lies! What we need is true unity! "From this day forth, Anle Island will no longer recognize the legitimacy of the North Island authorities! At the same time, we call upon the survivors of all other islands to unite and stand shoulder to shoulder with us! For our future! For every survivor living in this sea!" At the end of his address, he announced the establishment of the Anle Island administration, assumed the office of Acting President and Commander of the Federation Fleet, and declared war on the rebels of North Island in the name of the constitution. Compared to Zhalas's inaugural address, General Li Minghui's speech was undeniably more hurried, lacking a bit of momentum. Though he was first in the legal line of succession for Acting President, Zhalas was already the de facto ruler of North Island. Though that man still bore the title of President, the authority he wielded in reality far exceeded what the code granted. And the reason he could pull this off was undoubtedly because he had secured the backing of North Island's officers—or at least a portion of them! Even if he had no wish to turn against former comrades, Li Minghui had to make the most practical choice available: declare the North Island authorities illegal in the name of the code, and establish a new government on Anle Island. He didn't want to do this. But he had no other choice. If he surrendered to Zhalas, that man would surely purge him—the de jure Vice President—framing him on some trumped-up charge and eliminating him. Just as ruthlessly as he had gotten rid of President Meng Ge and Captain Dongwen... ... Having witnessed the entire coup unfold, Muda had never imagined that the memory card he had brought to Anle Island would stir up such colossal waves, tearing the entire Federation apart. Even more unexpected was that he had somehow become a member of Anle Island's military council tasked with drafting a new manifesto. Within the Federation, he belonged to the camp closer to Shelter 70, making him a marginalized figure in the federal government. After all, back then it had been Administrator Sun Yuechi who separated the coastal patrol from the Federation fleet and placed it under the cabinet's Ministry of Finance. While this had delayed the crisis to some extent, it had also slapped the political label of "Shelter faction" onto the coastal patrol. Yet the Anle Island authorities clearly had no luxury to fuss over such labels now. Countering military pressure from North Island was their most pressing emergency. Even if it was just a few speedboats and minelayers, they had to make every effort to secure them... Inside the operations briefing room of the Anle Island Naval Base, a tense meeting deciding the Federation's future was underway. Muda had been summoned halfway through the proceedings, so by the time he stepped through the door, nearly every seat at the conference table was taken. A tense, suffocating atmosphere washed over him. Glancing at the people gathered around the table, he took an empty seat and lowered his voice, whispering to the director of logistics seated next to him: "How many have answered our broadcast?" The logistics director's expression was grim as he murmured back, "Only four governors." Muda was taken aback. He hadn't expected their legitimacy to carry so little weight. He couldn't help asking next, "What about the fleet?" "We have one cruiser, two destroyers, and three submarines... not counting whatever civilian vessels we can retrofit, that's all for now." "...And them?" "One battleship, one cruiser, three destroyers, and an attack submarine." Perhaps feeling the situation sounded far too bleak, the logistics director tried to salvage some hope, adding, "But the submarine yard is on our side. We aren't completely without advantages." Overhearing their exchange, another officer seated nearby gave a soft cough and chimed in, keeping his voice down: "Yes, we aren't completely without advantages, but what little edge we have is practically negligible against our deficits. Without Coral City's reactor manufacturing plant, we can't produce the quieter fusion-powered submarines, and conventional subs are hardly useful in a full-scale fleet action... What's more, the Federation's largest shipyard and munitions plants are both in Zhalas's hands." Muda swallowed involuntarily. "...Grim." The officer sighed. "Indeed." The largest industrial base and shipyards were all in the north. The northern islands possessed ample population, technology, and the industrial muscle to convert that technology into war machines. The longer this dragged out, the more disadvantageous it would be for Anle Island. And even if they launched a hasty assault right now, trying to defeat the North Island fleet led by its flagship battleship with only one cruiser, two destroyers, and three submarines was next to impossible. Not to mention they still harbored Zhalas sympathizers within their own ranks. Even though some had been locked away, finding replacements would take time. Of course, North Island faced the same dilemma: where there were supporters of Zhalas, there were inevitably those loyal to the manifesto and the democratically elected president. Both North Island and Anle Island were suffering the growing pains of chaos. Whoever subdued their internal turmoil first and crushed their rival would emerge as the new master of these waters. "What about Ring Island? Any updates?" Commander Li Minghui tapped his cigarette ash into an ashtray, thought for a moment, and turned to the adjutant beside him. Ring Island lay in the westernmost reaches of the Southern Sea, near the Baiyue Strait, situated directly behind the four islands held by Anle Island. It was also the most populous island in the Federation. If that settlement threw its lot in with Zhalas, the consequences would be catastrophic. That was precisely why they had to do everything in their power to win it over to Anle Island's side. The adjutant shook his head. "The governor there is an opportunist—in other words, a fence-sitter. In his reply, he stated he didn't want to pick a side... I even get the feeling he might want to secede from the Federation and join the Alliance." The commander frowned. "Troublesome." The adjutant sighed as well, nodding gently. "Indeed." Silence descended over the conference table. Just then, an officer suddenly spoke up: "Why don't we draw the Alliance onto our side?" The room stirred at those words. More than half the people around the table turned startled eyes upon him— including Muda, who had taken money from the Alliance long ago. The adjutant beside the commander furrowed his brows slightly and couldn't help questioning, "Is that appropriate?" The Alliance's land forces were formidable indeed, but they were far away, and their naval power was practically nonexistent. Even if they had some small aircraft, he honestly didn't know what to make of them. One could only say those people truly weren't afraid of dying, daring to ride any bizarre contraption into the sky. Furthermore, even setting aside this potential ally's strength, inviting an external power into Southern Sea regional affairs was a concern in its own right. Facing the skepticism around the room, the officer who made the proposal pressed on solemnly: "We have no other choice. It's the only way to win. And while we hesitate, the traitor to the Federation has long since enlisted the power of Torch. If we continue to drag our feet, all we'll do is sink to the bottom of the ocean clutching our principles." A ripple of whispers spread around the table. Indeed. Everyone sitting here knew at least some of the inside story behind the destruction of the ocean-current power station. If it had only been speculation before, the recording left behind by Captain Dongwen practically proved the sordid collusion between Zhalas's faction and the Church of the Torch. It was precisely the tacit consent of the fleet stationed at North Island that had allowed those mutants to slip past northern patrol zones and penetrate deep into the heart of the Federation. At that point, a destroyer captain spoke slowly: "Actually, it's not entirely out of the question. The Alliance seems to have a fairly good reputation in Silver Moon Bay. They previously aided the nations of Sunset Province against the invasion by the Legion and its vassal states, and afterward, they didn't take the opportunity to annex those kingdoms." Another submarine captain countered, "What about Golden Gallon Port?" The destroyer captain continued, "They established a new local government composed of local survivors. While that might be unacceptable from the perspective of the Xilan imperial family, the Empire was the one that struck first... Besides, I suspect their simultaneous appearance alongside the mutants in the Baiyue Strait was no coincidence." Another officer sitting nearby rubbed his chin with an index finger, pondered for a moment, and nodded. "Makes sense. Those people even let the feudal kingdoms of Sunset Province continue existing, so long as the local royal families abolished slavery and instituted legal equality for all people... And on that front, we've come much further than those feudal lords. They would have no reason to meddle in our internal affairs." The submarine captain who had raised the objection hesitated, unable to come up with a counterargument, and finally nodded. "I suppose that's true..." Now that the door was cracked open, everyone began chiming in at once, and the heavy tension over the table dissipated noticeably. Seeking the Alliance's help was indeed a viable approach—at least they were far more dependable than the lunatics from Haiya Province. Moreover, word had it that the Alliance and Torch were mortal enemies. Even from their own strategic needs alone, those people certainly had reason to intervene in the Southern Sea. "They're different from the residents of Shelter 70. At least they had the guts to settle in Baiyue Province, where the hermit crabs of Shelter 70 dared not go, whereas those Shelter bastards crawled out from under the sea and immediately tried to take over our nest." "I agree! This hasn't been just our war for a long time—Torch has been stirring the pot from the very start! If Captain Dongwen's final message was accurate, then the true culprit behind the power station's destruction is without doubt Torch!" "I agree as well. The power station still needs investigation, but the mutant corpses found north of Ring Island are irrefutable!" "Ahem... I suggest we refrain from using the term 'hermit crabs.' We need to find a way to win over the residents of Shelter 70, who are victims just like us." "What does it matter? The blue coats at Port Fries call themselves blue moles, which I hear was a nickname given to them by the Wilante." "You said it yourself—they come from different shelters, so naturally their mindsets differ... It's better if we watch our tongues." The chatter bounced back and forth across the table, while Muda, seated in the corner, found himself unable to get a word in. The coastal patrol had only a dozen or so long-range speedboats; at most, they could help lay mines. Suddenly realizing something, he turned to the logistics director beside him and nudged his arm with an elbow. "May I ask a question?" The man nodded. "Of course." After pausing for a moment, Muda voiced the question that had weighed on his chest for quite a while. "...Does this count as a civil war?" The logistics director blinked slightly, casting a curious look at the captain, as if puzzled by why he would ask such a thing—especially in a place like this. Glancing at their comrades heatedly debating around the table, the director turned back to the patrol captain beside him. "Is there any other word for it?" Having received an affirmative answer, Muda nodded and said no more. The boulder weighing on his heart finally plummeted to the floor. He wasn't at all surprised that things had come to this; in fact, two months ago, he had already sensed that continuing down this path would lead to disaster. Yet when this moment truly arrived, a wave of melancholy still washed over him. A civil war... To think that in just four short months, a people once so remarkably united had shattered into three pieces... ... Heavy, dark clouds were gathering over North Island and Anle Island, while out on the open sea, the setting sun cast a tranquil glow. In the mess area of the nuclear submarine Dolphin. Watching Captain Chen Jianhong walk toward him, Dongwen, now in fresh clothes, wore an expression split between gratitude and shame. The gratitude went without saying: this nuclear-powered cargo submarine had rescued two hundred crewmen from the destroyer, including himself. The shame, however, came from this being his very first face-to-face encounter with their "enemy" in the four months since the war began... His lips moved for a moment before he gave a slight nod. "Thank you." "Don't mention it. Want a cup?" Holding a mug in each hand, Chen Jianhong didn't wait for a response before thrusting one into Dongwen's hands, then took a seat on the bench beside him. "'Champion' brand coffee beans. Personally, I like to add a bit of sugar and milk. Not sure if it suits your taste, but give it a try." A faint milky aroma drifted into his nose, laced with the bitter sweetness of coffee. The warmth seeping through the mug's ceramic surface chased away the chill of the sea. Dongwen sat quietly beside Captain Chen, murmuring absently, "Good stuff... Where'd you get it?" Chen Jianhong grinned, took a sip, and said leisurely, "Not me—my new employer got it." "The Alliance?" "Yeah. A treasure synthesized from a black box they found in Shelter 79, later brought to the Camel Hump Kingdom to be grown by local plantations... Apparently, this bean has to be cultivated in a plateau climate, and the altitude of the Zhuobar Mountains happens to be just right." "They certainly know how to live comfortably." Dongwen took a slow sip as well, but the bitterness made him clench his jaw and furrow his brows. Seeing his struggle, Chen Jianhong laughed heartily. "You could say that. I've picked up a few of their habits myself, though I don't think that's a bad thing." Looking at the silent Dongwen, Chen Jianhong turned his gaze forward and spoke slowly: "Actually, over the past few days, after learning about the other shelters, I gave serious thought to what the difference really is between us." Dongwen raised his head. "Did you figure it out?" "In a way..." Chen Jianhong shrugged casually. "I realized you might be right: there really is no difference between us." Dongwen looked at him in surprise. The latter paused a moment before continuing: "My great-grandfather lay in a hibernation pod for a hundred years, but my great-grandmother was an islander. If my grandfather still bore the imprint of a blue coat, by my father's generation, hardly any of it remained. Even my education was completed in Coral City, right alongside many of the Federation's engineers—we even studied from the very same textbooks." Dongwen looked at him. "Then where did things go wrong?" Chen Jianhong pondered for a moment. "Perhaps... it came down to the Administrator." A hint of surprise crossed Dongwen's face. "You mean Mr. Sun Yuechi?" "Sun Yuechi?" Chen Jianhong blinked, then waved a hand with a chuckle. "No, you misunderstood. It has nothing to do with him. I used to look down on him, but after chatting with him in Dawn City, I realized he's actually a man with deep ideas. He's tried very hard to mend the patches on the coat we've worn for a century. It's just that the strength of one man is far too insignificant before the tides of history." Dongwen looked at him, bewildered. "Then who else could it be?" Chen Jianhong shrugged. "Just my humble opinion, but perhaps... the problem lies in the very role of the Administrator. Frankly, our Administrator was originally only meant to oversee Shelter 70. Using our own internal methods to select the next Administrator wouldn't have been an issue. But the crux came after the doors opened... Our Administrator suddenly had to govern not just a shelter, but thirteen islands and an undersea settlement." Dongwen hesitated slightly. "Is there a problem with that?" Chen Jianhong shook his head. "No problem—at the start, there was no problem at all. Take Boulder City, for instance; before the black cards corrupted, they did wonderfully. Singularity City also did well initially, only stumbling a bit after losing the guidance of the Reconstruction Committee. Even the Empire I passed through not long ago—regardless of whether General Rowell and the survivors back then were sufficiently rigorous, taking in over a hundred million refugees across three million square kilometers of grassland was truly an impossible task... Of course, we were no different. Up until four months ago, we did remarkably well too. We can't negate two centuries of history just because of four months of turmoil." Dongwen said nothing, only watching him quietly, waiting for him to continue. Chen Jianhong paused a moment and sighed. "Perhaps having only the first Administrator would have been enough... If that tinkerer's job hadn't been handed down generation after generation, then once that great figure departed, we could have engraved his name on the doors of the shelter—which likewise deserved a peaceful end. We could have thanked him and the Era of Prosperity together for their blessings, commemorated his birth and passing together, and joined hands to deliberate on how to walk the path ahead." Here, he looked at Dongwen with a grin. "You see, at least that way we would have shared a common tradition, without needing to celebrate the hundred-odd endless holidays from the Era of Prosperity. In truth, I never thought the Era of Prosperity was all that grand. You all think we blue coats know what it was like, but honestly, I never laid eyes on it either. There's nothing wrong with starting anew from the very ground beneath our feet." Resting the back of his head against the bulkhead, Dongwen closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "Perhaps." He realized he didn't harbor any deep hatred for the blue coats. For all he knew, his ancestors might have included shelter dwellers, or perhaps had narrowly missed being among the lucky few who escaped into one. What had driven them to this point? Maybe he truly needed to think it through. However... Now was not the time. Gulping down the rest of his coffee, he looked at Chen Jianhong and asked, "What now? What do you plan to do?" The moment the words left his mouth, before the Dolphin's captain could answer, a calm and clear voice called out from the side: "We plan to take advantage of the chaos in the Federation fleet to head straight for Shelter 70. "There will never be a better opportunity than right now."