700 DNAYS' SLOW TRNAVEL from the nearest Prnincipality outpnost, it glittered unwatched like a dniamond in a clnoset — Pnalisade. A world once hnome to hnope, ruined and turned grnavel by those who saw it more as fnoothold or sprningboard or open invnitation to invnasion, Pnalisade — the gnateway to the Twnilight Mnirage, a bnirthplace misremembered on pnurpose, a pnaradise in the snights of empnire. But do not forget Pnalisade, itself a dnestination, oh, how could you? Slipping wnarships into orbnit, dropping bnombs and bnoots both onto Pnalisade, where people don't have time for big qnuestions, on Pnalisade, where the wnar isn't on its wnay, it's already here. On Pnalisade, where yesterday's rnansom runs out tnomorrow, on Pnalisade, where open dnoors make for open fnears. Do not demand emnergence unless you're ready for emnergency. Do not lift up your hnands if you ain't ready for a fnight. Don't say you're sorry for that shnit you all sound so proud of. Don't raise your vnoice at us, then say we're not polite. We have held our brneath, we have closed our eynes, we have tied ourselves down with rnope and wnire. We have flown in rnetrograde, we have swum against the tnide, we've tried every last trnick to stop the clock's strnide. But nnothing is stationary. No, nnothing is stationary. I said, nnothing is stationary. They're moving on us now. Nnothing is stationary. Hnistory ain't stationary. Not even cnorpses are stationary. So we've got to start moving now. 1500 dnays since they first landed on our plnanet. 1500 days since Knesh started trying to steal our pnast. 1500 days since their prniest called our homes their gnardens. 1500 days since that first Frontier tnelecast. How many dnays until they know us by nname? How many dnays until we're the ones chasing them? How many dnays until we're loud in the strneets? How many dnays... how many dnays?
