Sometime in Autumn, 2321
Earth, Russian Airspace
President Wu sat in his private quarters on Air Force 199, reading his datapad with a furrowed brow. His hair was sharp black, his attire sleak and energetic. At the age of 52, he was abnormally young by any high ranking official standard, below the median age of the entire global population. It was the desperation of the United Republics of China that propelled him to Presidency, a deep desire to stop the stagnation and slow decline of the once great empire. Perhaps young blood would turn things around, someone with boundless ambition and energy, both of which he had. For the past few years, he fervently pushed legislation to further liberalize the mainland, increase commerce with the GDW, AU, and even the Soyuz, make the nation a center of commerce once again, as it did in the late 21st century.
However, success has been limited. Some of the old guard, at least their children, still lived and pushed against his efforts, and the old stench of Operation Heavy Chorus persisted, literally, as radioactive wastelands, which kept a large part of the population xenophobic. Wu was losing his popularity. He needed a larger international win. The opportunity came when the other two leaders of the Confederacy, President Young and Prime Minister Luo, informed him of their conversation with the American tycoon Ein. He wasn't none too pleased that they spoke behind his back, but there was little protesting to be done; the benefits were too enticing. He just needed to play ball, starting with ending this conflict between the GDW and the Soyuz. No pressure.
Glancing out the window, he saw a Soyuz fighter flying solemnly next to his aircraft, escorting him to Moscow. No doubt a couple more were out of visible range, ready to turn the entire thing into a cloud of vapor. They were afraid; they should be. Despite the armistice, the GDW showed a willingness to preemptively strike.
The airfield had far more military aircraft than what Wu saw in peacetime, and visible damage: singed fields and fresh patches of concrete. There was minimal press present, a couple of drones that were allowed to take pictures in the two minutes that Wu was out in the open, before practically shoved into a ballistic proof shuttle and driven to the closest entrance to Moscow's underground tunnel system. He was escorted through a maze, purposefully designed to confuse and disorient invaders, before he arrived at an agreed upon meeting place.
Earth, Russian Airspace
President Wu sat in his private quarters on Air Force 199, reading his datapad with a furrowed brow. His hair was sharp black, his attire sleak and energetic. At the age of 52, he was abnormally young by any high ranking official standard, below the median age of the entire global population. It was the desperation of the United Republics of China that propelled him to Presidency, a deep desire to stop the stagnation and slow decline of the once great empire. Perhaps young blood would turn things around, someone with boundless ambition and energy, both of which he had. For the past few years, he fervently pushed legislation to further liberalize the mainland, increase commerce with the GDW, AU, and even the Soyuz, make the nation a center of commerce once again, as it did in the late 21st century.
However, success has been limited. Some of the old guard, at least their children, still lived and pushed against his efforts, and the old stench of Operation Heavy Chorus persisted, literally, as radioactive wastelands, which kept a large part of the population xenophobic. Wu was losing his popularity. He needed a larger international win. The opportunity came when the other two leaders of the Confederacy, President Young and Prime Minister Luo, informed him of their conversation with the American tycoon Ein. He wasn't none too pleased that they spoke behind his back, but there was little protesting to be done; the benefits were too enticing. He just needed to play ball, starting with ending this conflict between the GDW and the Soyuz. No pressure.
Glancing out the window, he saw a Soyuz fighter flying solemnly next to his aircraft, escorting him to Moscow. No doubt a couple more were out of visible range, ready to turn the entire thing into a cloud of vapor. They were afraid; they should be. Despite the armistice, the GDW showed a willingness to preemptively strike.
The airfield had far more military aircraft than what Wu saw in peacetime, and visible damage: singed fields and fresh patches of concrete. There was minimal press present, a couple of drones that were allowed to take pictures in the two minutes that Wu was out in the open, before practically shoved into a ballistic proof shuttle and driven to the closest entrance to Moscow's underground tunnel system. He was escorted through a maze, purposefully designed to confuse and disorient invaders, before he arrived at an agreed upon meeting place.