Nikolai nodded in recognition, shirking a dusting of snow with the motion.
"The war? It is the feuding of children, comrade, and all the more foolish for it. The Corsairs and Outcasts share their circumstances, and yet will not pool their efforts." He shook his head in disbelief.
"It is the very nature of their existence that dooms them. The Corsairs cannot exist without outside assistance, or they will fade into the dust of their world. The same can be said for the Outcasts. That... addiction ties them more to their home world than any other group in Sirius. They cannot leave, Comrade, not truly. That weakens them.
I do not see what they hope to gain through this war they fight. Territory they cannot inhabit?
Both are predatory nations. They seek to survive through pure force, taking what they cannot produce themselves. That existence... It is not living, it's simple survival. The more they grow, the more they must seize. So, the numbers of those they may steal from decreases. They attack civilians, transports carrying the most basic of supplies, without thought of where they may go.
They do what the Coalition must not. Their governments have grown distant from the people, focusing too much on conflict, military strength.
The Hispania could have been a new beginning for them. Instead, they allowed fortune to divide them. This war does not destroy them, Comrade-Premier. It was their fate as soon as the survivors drifted apart. Conflict only hastens it. Had they united from the beginning, perhaps things may have been different. Instead, both groups chose to live at the expense of others, as parasites and eventually turned on each other.
They placed betterment of their own 'nations' over their people." Kasheyev shrugged, the movement barely noticeable under his coat. He had little sympathy for the people of the Hispania. They had chosen their fate, and chosen poorly.
