Stories of Life in the Republic of Aguacenta

[Aguacenta]

(Political Map of the Republic of Aguacenta and its unincorporated territories)

Stories from Aguacenta

OOC: This thread documents the stories of the people of Aguacenta. They vary in length and subject. These stories are meant to document life within the Republic from many different view points, from political leaders to everyday people. These stories may or may not be in chronological order. When stories are historical, I will attempt to make note of that. Some stories will be meant merely to develop the culture, history, and identify of the Republic of Aguacenta. Other stories are meant to document major events and developments within the Republic from a first person view. You can find current news from Aguacenta in a radio-broadcast format from the Aguacentian Far East Radio Network (AFERN) you can find general history and information on Aguacenta In the Enciclopedia Geografica.

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Stories of Life on the Frontier and the Annexation of Cordoba:

 

 

Julia was staring through one of the windows of a shop in the village of Einbeck. Julia was about to turn 15 and she was eyeing a new dress for her quinceanera. Suddenly, she heard a voice call out from behind here. It was one of her younger brothers telling her it was time to go. They weren't much different than any of the Aguacentian children that lived on the peninsula. They spoke German. They went to German community schools. They had German friends. Even though they were Aguacentian's they never felt unwelcome or unwanted. 

Julia's parents moved from Alicante to the east coast of Cordoba when she was only five years old. Her father often told stories about what life was like in the Republic. Stories about living in the slums of Cadiz, working for 18 hours a day for almost no money, and barely making enough to get by. Her mother never talked about life before moving to Cordoba. Julia thought it was because the memories were just too difficult for her Mother. Sometimes, Julia tried to remember living in Aguacenta. If she really tried, she swore she could conjure a flash of life in Alicante. 

While her younger brothers were technically citizens of Aguacenta, they had never set foot in the there and they certainly didn't feel attached to the Republic. Every once in a while, her youngest brother would stand on one of the hills on the shoreline, if the weather was clear he swore he could see the coast of the Republic. Logically, Julia knew it was many days journey by sea to there, and there was no way he could see it. But, in his mind it was just over the horizon. Julia wondered how well her brothers would fit in there. The only exposure they had to Aguacentian culture was from weekly radio broadcasts, they didn't dress like most Aguacentians, and they had never been to a city. While their Spanish was passable, in reality it wasn't very good. She figured she would find out eventually, because when they turned 18 both of her brothers would be conscripted into the Aguacentian Defense Force. 

Julia might not have known much about life in the Republic, but she knew plenty about life on the frontier. Life was good here. During the summers, work in the fields started early and ended late. During the winters, the weather got so cold that sometimes you couldn't go outside for more than a few minutes. Sundays meant a journey to Einbeck for Mass. If she was lucky, afterward her parents would let her ramble around the village with her friends while they ran errands. 

 

 

 

 

Mateo sat staring at his watch. The train was late again, which meant he was stuck with nothing to do. His eyes wandered a bit. Then he caught himself reading one of the posters on the opposite wall. It was for one of the projects he was assigned to. It read "Endless riches await you in the east", with two happy homesteaders, one pulling a large fish out of a river, the other was wandering through a field of crops. Mateo smiled to himself and for a second he contemplated the fact that he had never even been as far east as Puerto Libre. At the bottom of the poster in bold text was printed "3 million pesos for a new life". He scoffed. He was not sure what kind of life you could afford on the frontier for 3 million pesos, but it could not be a very good one. That much money wasn't enough to live on for long, For most people in the capital that amounted to barely two months wages. His thoughts moved on to the absurdity of paying people to move to place where they could supposedly find "endless riches". 

Suddenly, his train of thought was interrupted by a person sitting next to him. The man must have caught Mateo staring at the poster. "Can you believe that? 30 million pesos?" the man said. "Yeah...it's...", Mateo started. The man didn't let him finish his thought before he interrupted, "It's all a conspiracy, you know? The government pays you to go out there to there, but you've got to be desperate to pick up and move for that little. So, the only people that go out there are poor. They don't have to deal with poverty, because all the poor people are out of sight and out of mind. Better yet, if they wind up getting killed by one of those protestant militias, then the Nationalists have an excuse to come 'rescue' you." Mateo's attention waned. He wondered if the man had lost his tin-foil hat somewhere.

A whistle blew. Finally! His train arrived. He excused himself and headed off. Silently he hoped to himself that the paranoid man from the bench wasn't going in the same direction.

He arrived at work almost 30 minutes late. He was met by two storage boxes. It must of been the documents he had requested from the Home Office's Central Archive for the report the Home Minister had requested on the plight of settlers on the Coastal Frontier. They were sealed shut with security tape and stamped on all sides with "CONFIDENTIAL". He rolled his eyes. It wasn't even 07:30 and whoever had delivered the documents had already committed a security violation. Lucky for them, neither the inspector general nor any of the security officers ever bothered to come down to this level. He pulled the scissors from his desk and split open the boxes. The first contained the most series of documents from Aguacentian settlers in the Coastal Frontier, it was filled to the top surveys, interviews, and other personal stories. It was heavy and probably weighed at least 20 kilos. The second contained every document the Central Archive could find related to violence against settlers. It contained two reports. One criminal report  related to the unsolved murders of a entire family of settlers in their home. The second, a rambling and incoherent letter to an unspecified assemblymen about about being robbed by a gang of local youths.

Mateo spent the day reading through the accounts of settlers on the coastal frontier. They were mostly mundane accounts of day to day life. They told the stories of the difficulties of planting new crops, the harshness of the weather, and interactions with the German-Protestant settlers there. Overall, they painted the picture of a difficult, but peaceful and rewarding life for homesteaders.

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"Last winter was really hard on Mother and Father. They were worried. Our food stores were dwindling and the roads to town were blocked by snow. Father wanted to risk the journey on foot in the hopes of finding supplies there. Mother said it is too dangerous and we should just wait for warmer weather to melt the snow. I did not know what we should do. I spent the nights hoping we don't starve. Eventually, a German man from a nearby settlement happened to pass by, and Mother invited him in for a Coffee since the weather was cold. He must have noticed our stores were almost empty, because a few days later he and three other men showed up with two huge sleds full of dry goods. While one of the men talked to Father about the weather, the other three without even mentioning it, unloaded the sleds into our storehouse. We didn't even notice what they had done until after they were gone. We made it through. Without those men, all six of us would have starved." ~ Interview with a teenage girl settled on the eastern coast of the Cordoba Peninsula 

"The German family down the road invited us to come to a church potluck. Without thinking I told them "yes". My wife was concerned that we might be out of place, after all we are Catholics and they were Protestants. It turned out to be one of the most enjoyable days in recent memory. Even the children had fun. None of us speak very good German and none of the Germans spoke very good Spanish, but we still managed to have communicate. Everyone was cordial and the food was delicious. I even suggested to one of our deacons that we should invite some of the German families to join us during one of the pre-Lent festivals." ~ Interview with a man settled outside of Karlsbadden 

"When there's nothing to do on the farm, I often go out with some of the German men from a nearby settlement to hunt and fish. It's always a good time and the take is always bountiful. The common storehouses are filled with smoked meats and the Germans always tell me if we are ever in need we should feel free to help ourselves." ~ Interview with a man settled just south of the Nijar border.

 

After a few days, he had finally made it through all the reports and interviews. He was surprised how favorable the Aguacentian accounts of the Germans were. All of the first hand accounts he read suggested the Germans were friendly, helpful, and supportive toward the Aguacentian settlers on the peninsula. Despite this it seemed like every time he turned on the news there was some new confrontation reported between the the Aguacentians and the Germans. He penned his report and provided the following summary:

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Abstract: Settlers on the Coastal Frontier are often ill-prepared for the harsh conditions and lack of resources. In many instances they have relied on the support of German communities to survive. Relations between the the Spanish-speaking Catholics and the German-speaking Protestants are good. A few instances involving cultural misunderstandings have occurred, but in general the the homesteaders view the Germans favorably. In the future, policies should be implemented to better support settlers and acclimate them to the conditions in the Cordoba Peninsula.    

 

 

 

 

Teo's desk was covered in documents. Reports, memos, authorization paperwork, and request forms. Most things were filtered out or delegated to subordinate offices, but it always seemed like an inordinate amount of paperwork that wound up on his desk. He heard a knock and then a head popped into the doorway. "Sir, your going to be late for your meeting if you don't leave now", one of his secretaries reminded him. Teo had five secretaries, a fact that never ceased to amaze him. Usually the best a boy from the slums of Siero can hope for is to grow up to work in the ports. Somehow he managed to be different.

Teo entered the meeting room and closed the door. He looked for the the marker that identified his seat. "Teodoro Ojeda - Minister of the Home Office". He was one of the last to take his seat. He looked around the table. Already seated were the Foreign Minister, and the Ministers for Defense and the Economy. Accompanying them was the Director of National Intelligence, the Head of the Defense Council, and the Chiefs of each of the branches of the ADF. He really hated these meetings anything he said was immediately dismissed. It didn't matter that he had been with the National Party since its formation, that his connections almost single-handily delivered the northern provinces for the party, or that he had spent more time in political office than any other two people sitting at the table combined. The discussions about whether or not to annex the territories of the Coastal Frontier started shortly after they were sworn into office, now that the Germans were getting ready to declare themselves and independent nation annexation was all but inevitable. 

The National Party had always been an uneasy fellowship of various factions. In a lot of ways the only thing they had in common was they were opposed to rule by the UDC. For most of the factions in the party annexation helped to resolve a political problem. For the militarists in the party, annexation meant a way to justify military modernization and to protect the Republics southern major ports. For the imperialists it meant making Greater Aguacenta a reality. For the nationalists it meant a rallying cry for union and incorporating all the Spanish speaking Catholics into a single state. For the industrialists it meant new resources to exploit. For the First Minister it meant a way to deflect from an inability to resolve basic social and economic problems. Teo was a populist, and he knew the people would bear the heavy burden of annexation. For the populists annexation meant something else. For the populists annexation meant setting aside their reservations for the greater good of the party.

An so he did. He ignored the buried reports that said the the biggest problem facing settlers on the frontier was the lack of Republic support. He ignored it when the other departments suppressed memos that said that without the Germans many homesteaders would have died due to harsh conditions. He watched idly as the militarist and imperialists used the media to build up a few minor incidents into a rash of massacres and atrocities. He did not like it, he could have stopped it, but he kept quiet for the good of the Party and the Republic.

 

 

 

 

Javier was usually bored and falling asleep in his patrol car by 03:00. Nights in Nueva Barcelona were almost always quiet. It was not always that way. In colonial days it was a thriving hub of commerce. People dreamed of coming here to strike it rich in the Northern Reaches.  It was a place where hopeful adventurers and prospectors took on supplies before heading into the wilderness looking for fortunes or notoriety. When winter came, those lucky enough to strike it rich returned here to make camp and sell their wares. The resources of the northern frontiers created great wealth and spurred new enterprises. But, that was in the past. People had moved on to the industrial cities of Siero and Olivia where the factories and ports meant steady well-paying jobs.

The once great "Gateway to the North" had become a desolate outpost on the eastern border of the Republic.Those that were unfortunate enough to remain here barely saw any benefit from being a part of the nation their intrepid forefathers helped create. What was left was a mass of rusting warehouses and crumbling saloons. A blight on an otherwise immaculate wilderness. Now, only two types of people came here willingly. Settlers subsidized by the central government headed for homesteads in the territories of the Coastal Frontier and soldiers unfortuitous enough to get stationed to the army garrison. 

Tonight was different, Javier spent the night blocking the intersections along main street to prevent cross-traffic. He wasn't the only one awake, the men of the 3rd Infantry Division had awoken the entire city. In the distance he could hear indistinct shouting accompanied by the clamor of men hurriedly stacking equipment and supply crates into trucks. From the street, he could see a few of his people peering out into the darkness from behind their curtains and trying to ascertain what was going on. A few adventurous people stood along the street and watched as a convoy of military vehicles rumbled down the Camino del Sur headed for the Córdoba Peninsula. He had no idea what was going on, but he reassured those that asked that it was nothing of any consequence.

 

 

 

 

Seb could barely concentrate. He had only been asleep for a few hours when one the captains came into the barracks and started yelling. They had 30 minutes to pack their things and get them loaded. Seb was one of the first to finish. He took a seat on the bench nearest to the cab of one of the trucks. The rest of his unit slowly filtered in behind him. He surveyed their faces. They were young and tired. Most of them were conscripts just out of basic training who had never left home before. Seb was different. He a volunteer and had been in the Army for almost six years. The last two he had been assigned to the 3rd Army Garrison at Nueva Barcelona. In that time, he had never experienced anything like this. They weren't told where they were going or when they'd get there, just that this wasn't a drill and there was the potential for combat.

Twelve hours later the trucks pulled off the road into a clearing and they were told to make camp. He wasn't sure exactly where they were, but a while back he saw a sign the read "Dorf Würzburg". He reckoned that meant they were somewhere in middle of the Córdoba Peninsula. The rest of his unit and him were sitting around eating cold ration packs when they were told to assemble for a briefing. Part of him was annoyed they didn't let them finish eating, another part of him was relieved they were finally getting information on where they were going and what they were doing.

 

 

 

 

Jonas was involved in politics from a young age. During high school he held organize referendum to change the commune's youth curfew policy. While studying at university he got involved with the Cordovan Independence Movement (CIM). Early on in the movement he was elected as a regional representative. Eventually he was elected to the position of Ombudsman, and then finally Chairman. After school he was ran for Mayor of Karlshafen, the only city on the peninsula. As time passed, the strength of the Movement grew in popularity. The belief in the need for coordination between the villages and settlements in Cordoba drew both German Protestants and Spanish Catholics to the movement. Before the Republic started encouraging settlers to move to Cordoba, it was estimated that nearly 80 percent of the people living on the peninsula were members of the Movement. 

Membership had waned somewhat since then, but the movement was still widespread. In fact, it had become so widespread that independence was about to become a reality. Referendums were held in nearly all the settlements, villages, and communes in Cordoba. The vote was one of resounding support. All of the communities south of Karlshafen and nearly seventy percent of the communities north of Karlshafen had voted to join the new Cordovan Confederation. It was under these circumstances that Jonas prepared to take office. Today he was major of Karlshafen, but tomorrow he would be officially sworn into office as Governor General of the Cordovan Confederation. 

The morning came, but it did not go as Jonas had planned. He woke a little after 04:00 to banging on the door of his cottage. At first he thought it might be some of the delegates from the Community Assembly looking to get an early start on the days business. That thought was quickly dispelled as he opened the door to a dozen Aguacentian soldiers in tactical gear forcing their way into his home. The placed Jonas in binders and ushered him into the back of one of their trucks.

As they drove the 15 kilometers from his house into the center of Karlshafen, Jonas noticed that soldiers in armored vehicles were stationed at every cross road on the Camino del Sur. When they arrived in town he saw there must have been five hundred soldiers camped on the commons. Jonas was taken to the town hall where a makeshift headquarters had set up. Jonas was lead into a room with a group of soldiers standing at the door. As he looked around he recognized some of the others in the room. They were various officials from the CIM, members of the the Karlshafen town council, and some of the delegates from surrounding villages. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he was starting to get a good idea.

Hours passed and nothing happened. Suddenly, the doors opened and an older man walked in. He stood at the front of the room. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen." he bellowed. "I am Brigadier General Gustavo del Bosque, and you all will be guests of the 2nd Brigade for a while. You and some of your compatriots have been accused of crimes against the Republic. You will remain here until such time that transportation can be arranged to take you to Ciudad Nuevo, where specific chargers will be levied and you will be tried. If you have any needs, please let one of my officers know." A concerned murmur swept the room as people exchanged looks of confusion and frustration. The General walked out, and the doors clapped shut behind him.  

 

 

 

Silvia was sitting at one of the tables in her cafe. The day was slow and there was nothing to do so she was watching the news on the small TV in the corner. The news was on. Images of Aguacentian troops standing in village squares flashed across the screen. She didn't recognize any of the names of the places they were, but based on the scenery they must have been far away. A news anchors were talking in the background, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. She turned up the volume. By the time she did, the screen cut to the First Minister speaking. He was flanked by men in military uniforms and some other people that Silvia didn't recognize.

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I come to you today from the steps of the National Assembly building.

Yesterday evening, I authorized the Chief of the Defense Council in coordination with Minister of Defense to take any action necessary to protect Aguacentian settlers in the territories of the Coastal Frontier from oppression at the hands of the German Protestant majority. Over the past months, our government has documented an increasing number of atrocities against our citizens on the frontier. These acts are unacceptable and they can not be allowed to continue. 

In the early morning hours, the Army Chief of Staff ordered elements of the 3rd Infantry Division stationed in the Utreran city of Nueva Barcelona into the Cordoba Peninsula. In total five thousand men were deployed. They secured the major population of center of Karlshafen and most of the larger villages. Our forces met with little to no resistance and no casualties were reported. 

In the coming months, we will begin the process of unification with our new brothers and sisters. Until then, I have directed the Defense Council to appoint a military governor for the region.

 

 

Edited April 4, 2018 by Aguacenta

[Aguacenta]

Life of Miners in the Republic.

 

Smoke rose overhead. As Luis followed it through the column down to the ground, he shielded his eyes to avoid the intense light of the sun. It did not help and he eyes began to water. They began to sting as the water from his eyes washed the soot on his face into them. He was too far away to make out what had happened, but it was serious enough that the foreman had ordered them all out of the mine. This was the first time he had seen the sun in months. They descended into the mine before sunrise, and returned to the surface again well after sunset. If not for whatever was going on,  it could have been several more.

Eventually the foreman arrived. They could tell he was concerned, but without explanation he told the men on his crew that they were done for the day and could return to camp. The men piled into the back of one of the company's trucks and headed back down the mountain. Some of the others brought in wood to stoke the furnace. Luis headed for the bathroom to wash up. He turned the faucet knob. Nothing came out. The well pump must have broken again.

Life in the mining camps of the western frontier could be difficult, but how difficult it was depended on where you were in the mining hierarchy. Luis was a mine rat, at the bottom of the mining totem, which meant he was the one responsible for igniting the demolition charges before hightailing it out of the mine. Once the charge had detonated he was responsible entering a tunnel and inspecting the rock face to determine if it was safe for others to enter. It was company policy to use as little fuse cord and explosives possible to achieve success.  Some of mining engineers took great pleasure in cutting the fuses slightly too short, forcing the mine rats to run in a sprint if they didn't want to be pelted with stone and debris... or worse.

In the Republic, mining in the manner they did would be illegal, Minería Verde would have been put out of business by the regulators and safety inspectors, but out here in on the frontier thinks were more lax. The companies were technically subject to Aguacentian laws, but people looked the other way. Corporate officers talked in broad strokes to avoid culpability, foremen were more concerned with making their quotas than maintaining safety standards, and mining inspectors either didn't bother to show up or were on company payrolls.

According to some of the old-timers on his crew, working for the private mining companies in the Republic was only marginally better, and managers used the increased regulations to justify paying the miners less. By comparison miners working for Cooperativa Minera, the state mining conglomerate, had it easy. Medical benefits, a 35 hour work week, paid holidays, and modern equipment. The workers on the frontier attempted to unionize to press for better conditions, but things broke down quickly. The frontier miners wound up with helmets and better lights, the union bosses wound up with fatter pocket-books.

The crews put up with it because they didn't have any other choice. Many of them couldn't find work in the Republic for one reason or another. They were a bunch of ruffians; wanted men, ex-convicts, drunks, and derelicts. Others were blacklisted from the more respectable mining enterprises, either for violating safety protocols or costing the companies money. But, for Luis it was an economic calculation. He simply couldn't find a job that paid this well in the Republic. With the money he earned here he supported his mother and two younger sisters, that simply wasn't possible with most other jobs available to someone who barely graduated from high school.

 

 

Jorge worked for Minera Campo for 15 years. It was the only "real" job he had ever had. One month after he graduated from Universidad de Minería, he started for Campo as an entry-level engineer for the gold mines in western Lagrano. Since then, he had worked in the northern expanses of Antequera, helped to design more efficient machinery to mine coal in southern Utrera, and even went overseas to help Campos foreign partners set up operations in South America.

Things had changed since Jorge first started working for Campo. For the first 10 years, things pretty much remained the same. But, about 5 years ago, the government started to sell its stake in the company to private investors. With the each passing sale came changes. Some for the better and some for the worse. With the sales came better equipment, more research and development, and less red tape. Along with these things came downsizing, a change in workplace culture, and greater disregard for safety standards.

As a white-collar engineer Jorge had been largely immune to the changes, but that was likely to change too. The government was preparing to sell the last of its stake in Minera Campo. Jorge wasn't sure what full-scale privatization would mean for the company. Rumors spread about the likely fallout. He had overheard one of the regional managers say that once the government was out, the board of trustees planned to sell the company to one of the bigger private concerns. Which meant most likely meant downsizing and reorganization. If that happened, Jorge was sure he would be laid off.

Mining engineers were in demand, but getting hired almost always meant agreeing to take a starting position in the northern reach or on the frontier. For Jorge getting a new job was likely to be difficult. Most of the private mining firms preferred to hire younger engineers, because they demanded lower salaries and were more susceptible to "the way business is done". His best option was to try to get a job with Cooperative Minera, but jobs there were difficult to come by. The unions there intentionally made it hard for anyone with experience elsewhere to get hired. Besides, Cooperative wasn't immune to privatization and layoffs either, and if the government continue on its present course, it's likely they'd be seeing lots of both. If the worst case came, he could always get a job with one of the frontier companies. He couldn't imagine his wife and children being pleased moving to some no-name village at the far edges of the Republic.

      

Edited April 9, 2018 by Aguacenta

[Aguacenta]

Life After the Flood

 

Julia started off excited about the flood. At first, everything about it seemed like one big adventure. They took a ride on the bus into the countryside to one of the displaced persons camps. There were kids her age to play with, they camped out every night in a big tent, and  she didn't have to go to school. As far as Julia was concerned, the flood was the best thing she had ever experienced. However, eventually the novelty wore off and reality set in. Soldiers told her mother that the water had receded. They told her that it would be a good idea to stay in the camp for another week or two, but her mother was insistent they went home.

When they got home, her mother took everything out of the house and piled it on the lawn. Her uncles came and took all the drywall out of the house and threw it in the pile. A couple days after they got home, the power came back on in their town. She had almost forgot what it was like to have power. However, they still didn't have drinkable water. Julia thought it was strange, when she turned on the tap the water looked clear, but her mother told her not to drink it. Every third day since they came home they had to go to the central square to get clean water. Today was one of those days.

Her uncle had given them two big blue square cans to bring back the water. On the first day they went to get water, her mother didn't realize how heavy the containers would be once they were filled. They had started to drag the containers home, but before they could get out of the square two men from the Council's Guard saw them and carried the containers to thier house for them. Her mother was so glad to have the help, until the guardsmen asked for payment. Today, her mother had remembered to bring a wheel-barrow to move the containers once they were full.

They had been waiting in line for water since before the sun came up. It was now almost 4 PM and they were finally nearing the front of the queue. One of the boys from her neighborhood told her that there was a French soldier helping to distribute water in the square. Julia was nervous, her cousins had told her that Europeans had two heads and had giant claws. She wasn't sure if they were being truthful, but it she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. 

They finally got to the front of the line. A soldier filled their containers from a large water truck. Her mother started to push the wheel-barrow, but struggled with its weight. That's when she heard a voice from behind them. "Senora. Senora, do you need help?" Her mother stopped for a moment, she was reluctant to let one of the soldiers help after what happened last time, but she wasn't really in a situation where she could argue. The soldier spent the walk back to their house chatting with her mother. There was something funny about the way he talked, but Julia couldn't figure out what it was. Finally, they got home and the soldier asked her mother if she wanted him to carry the water cans up the stairs to the house. He carried them with ease and then began to set off back toward the square.

As the soldier began to walk away, her mother shouted something Julia didn't understand down the street at him. He turned around, smiled, and waved good-bye. Julia looked at her mother and asked what she had said to the soldier. Her mother told her it meant "Thank you, sir" in French. Julia's eyes got as big as saucers. She had met a European and she didn't even realize it.

Teo walked across the plaza to the Parliament Building. Thanks to the back-up generators, it was one of the few buildings in the city with working electricity. Its bright lights contrasted the unusually dark backdrop of the capital. He walked through the security check-point in the lobby and headed toward his office. It was 03:30, but the building was already full of people. As he walked down the corridor he had to avoid interns and staffers sleeping on the floor. It seemed like every couch, every chair, and every bench had someone sleeping on it. Hundreds of people had stayed on during the night to ensure relief programs were in-place and running. He suddenly felt bad for returning home for a few hours to check on his family and sleep in his own bed.

Finally he reached his office, plastered to his bulletin board were notes from his secretary. Each one an agency head or organization he need to place a return call to. The scale of the disaster was overwhelming. Destruction of this magnitude was unprecendented in this the history of the region and no one had expected it. The Home Office's disaster relief fund had been depleted in the first week after the tsunami.

Thankfully, the National Assembly quickly voted to disperse more funds. Even with with the added money and foreign support the numbers just didn't add up. The First Minister had made promises of a swift rebuild, but Teo knew it was all rhetoric. It would take years if not decades to completely recover, the best they could hope for in the short term was a return to relative normalcy. It wasn't pretty, but they were slowly attaining that goal. Clean-up was underway, electricity and water were being restored, and people were returning to their homes. 

The political aftermath was less certain. Internal reports showed that  both local authorities and humanitarian organizations were misappropriating funds. Instances of both abuse and incompetence by National Guard units were widespread. Businesses were profiteering and price gouging. Citizens were looting stores and robbing their neighbors. The one bright spot, was the military's disaster relief force. It had been dispatched quickly and in areas where it was operating things were generally good.