permeated every interaction he had with them. Those who stepped too close to him would often receive threatening growls, and he would lash out at any who touched him. His teachers noticed the change, but they quickly found that trying to intervene did no good. Galika would not hear reason, and anyone who got involved found themselves plagued by a slew of problems. Students would have grades plummet for no apparent reason, and instructors were confounded by technical problems during lessons. But there was never any proof that could link Galika to these troubles, so no corrective action was ever taken.
Galika now held hatred for more than just other races, however; the current government disgusted him as well. In his mind, the Senatorial system was nothing but a joke, a squabbling mass of incompetents bereft of leadership and devoid of strength. Rhetoric and campaigning for months to pass bills that his ancestors would have decided on immediately made no sense to him. He began to dream of bringing the entire crippled government to its knees, smashing it into oblivion. In its place, he would see the rise of a new order, or rather the return of an ancient one- the Leonid monarchy, with himself as the first ruler. These fantasies dominated his waking thoughts and filled his dreams at night, and his every word and action was influenced by them.
When the time came for him to give his graduating dissertation, he was careful in his wordage. Knowing full-well that open racism or slighting of the current government would put a huge black mark on his political resume, the entire discourse was planned carefully to avoid causing any blatant offense. He was noticeably terse and sharp in his style, and those who knew him well enough could easily read between the lines to find hidden references to either the bygone monarchy or his views on present affairs. But without any real proof, his exemplary writing style allowed him to pass with flying colors.
He graduated summa cum laude with a doctorate in law and political systems, opening the door for his rise to power. It was an opportunity that he fully intended to make good use of.
At first, Galika had attempted to push his own agenda forward, and much of his first year out of the university was spent trying to bring others of his race over to his side. But each and every attempt failed, and he was forced to face the cold truth. Centuries as a democracy had, in his mind, left Filius a complacent and lethargic society, content to wallow in its brokenness, and the people had grown blind to reason, seeing him only as an imperialistic nuisance. And so he changed tactics, giving up his demands for a new government to falsely supporting the current one. When Leonid Representative Ramir Tathura died, he ran for office to take his place, and through a combination of campaign promises and political weaseling landed himself a leading seat in the Senate, effectively becoming one of the most powerful cats on the planet.
Once there, he had quickly set to work. He began to quietly listen in on other Leonid delegates, looking for any that might have held the same views as himself. For a long while, his eavesdropping was unproductive, and he began to fear that he alone did not support the democratic mud hole his world had gotten itself stuck in. It wasn’t until nearly twenty-three years after his election to office that he finally struck gold. Snippets of discrete transmissions led him to discover a small sect of delegates that had been keeping their true opinions hidden. Among them were Ozmari Dafili, Jokarad Vahiki, and Zetopa Kathim, other Leonids who held great power in the Senate.
He quickly made his move, approaching them one night during one of their meetings. Though at first they were understandably suspicious of him, he quickly assuaged their fears with a proposition too good to refuse. He wanted their help in bringing about the new world order they all desired, and in return he would offer them any post they wished when it came to be. They possessed influence and means that he could use, things which they were only too happy to provide. His honeyed words, coupled with grand promises that he could, in fact, make real, quickly convinced the others to make him their leader.
He already had a sound plan by that point. Not too long before their first meeting, Galika had intercepted a transmission from a mining corporation regarding a search for ovaritanium, a hyper-insulating metal and one of Filius’ most valuable resources. A group of geologists had recently discovered the richest deposit of the mineral yet, located conveniently within the territories of several races. And as luck would have it, the center of the vein was situated right in the middle of Tigrid land.
Seizing his chance, Galika had sent an anonymous transmission to leading Tigrid Senator Lucama Dario, one of the greediest cats in the Senate. He was very careful to include detailed schematics and scans of the area that showed the exact boundaries of the vein. He also made sure to emphasize the juicy tidbit that none of the other races had laid claim to the deposits, creating an opportunity too good to pass up. If Dario acted quickly, he could corner the market on ovaritanium, making billions in the process.
True to form, Lucama Dario had leapt at the chance. Under cover of darkness, he had mobilized a small militia of guards, police, and mercenaries and taken control of all access to the vein. And, quite predictably, the other delegates had erupted in a storm of protest and accusation which Galika quickly put to use. By pulling on the strings of those delegates he controlled, he had planted seeds of discontent and mistrust throughout the government, and Filius’ peace became clouded with the threat of conflict.
“So close,” he mused, taking another sip from his glass. “After so many years, the wait is nearly over. All that remains is that final push, and everything will fall apart.” Of course, he had prepared for that as well, discretely siphoning weapons and ammunition to the armies of various races through a group of corrupt officials. By carefully controlling the size of the shipments, he had ensured that when war began there would be chaos as territories tried to cope. And he had also made certain to better equip his own people than any of the others, as well as manipulating the strings of the Leonid military to cement his position as Supreme General when the war began.
The board was set, the pieces were in place, and now all that remained was the first move, which would begin the deadly game he had laid out. It was the other races of Filius versus Galika Lukanol and the Leonids. Winner takes all, including the loser. It was a game that would decide the fate of the entire planet. And it was a game that, no matter how well the others tried, Lukanol was sure to win.
The thought brought a smile to his face as he fingered the ostentatious ring on his hand, the ornate sapphire and gold crest actually the symbol of the ancient Filian Dynasties. It was to his great annoyance when his musings were interrupted by the pager on his desk. He tapped it sharply, and the voice of his secretary filtered through. “Sir, delegates Dafili, Vahiki, and Kathim to see you, as requested.”
Lukanol smiled and activated the microphone. “Excellent. Send them in, Miss Rozwari. And call up a catering cart as well. I’m sure we’ll be a while.
Seconds later, the ornate wooden doors to Galika’s office opened, admitting the three lions into the auspicious chamber. Galika rose to his feet and smiled warmly. “Welcome, gentlemen. Please, be seated. I’ve already asked for food and drink to be brought up.”
The other representatives nodded and took their places before looking at Galika expectantly. For a few moments he remained silent, just gazing at the three lions seated across from him. Then he cleared his throat and looked at Dafili, fixing him in his sharp gaze. “Now, I trust all our preparations are proceeding smoothly? Weapons, spies, informants…”
The other lion brushed a spot of dust from his suit. “Everything is in place. The weapons have been distributed to your specifications, and all of our operatives are in position.” He smiled and flicked a silver lock of hair away from his face. “All we need now is the command.”
“Excellent.” Galika interlocked his fingers and turned his attention to Vahiki. “And what of our media informants? After all, we want to make sure the public knows what goes on in this conflict, or at least what we want them to.”
Jokarad shifted in his seat. “All in order. The
