(Tl;DR Poles were going to be used as effectively slave labor in Alpha Centauri, CIA agent got on board in 2120 and instead freed the Poles and sent them off to Bootis before either committing suicide or being forced to do so against his will. I will be renaming the Bootis system into Wendia, and the planet they will be colonizing in Bootis will be named "Dobrzyn", though this will be established further in roleplay.)

Spreadsheet

May 3rd, 2120 - Poznan, Poland

"Przepraszam, board the shuttle in a single file line. Remember, we are Slavs all!"

A calm female voice spoke out in Polish, and again in Russian, as the hundreds of men, women, and children boarded one of the grand transports. Music silently and pleasantly played throughout the background as the woman over the loudspeaker spoke out once more.

"We are slavs all, you i mnie! Thank you for participating in Project Arkona, and the revitalizing of the grand culture of the East! With Poland's inclusion once more into the Pan-Slavic Alliance for Co-Prosperity, headed by the glorious motherland of the Russian-Ukranian Federation, the Polish people can like the Poles of old work side-by-side in the global Slavic community. Now, with the advent of the PSACPro Space Organization, PSACPSO, Poland has the opportunity with her people and her industry to join us amongst the stars. You are one of these lucky few! Project Arkona is a revolutionary project intent on colonizing the distant system of Alpha Centauri, in line with other members of PSACPSO. The sky is no longer the limit for Slavic scientific advancements! With the enlightenment brought forth from the Russian-Ukranian Federation, prosperity and equality reigns triumphant here on Earth, but Alpha Centauri shall provide for us a state of natural law, where humanity may once more lay the foundations for a solid and longlasting civilization. Who better than the Slavs to do this? Who better than you? Let us prove ourselves, to each other and the world, to the galaxy, that the Slavs are not Slaves to the European Union nor the Americans nor the Chinese. We will advance humanity, as one! To the stars and beyond, all Slavs!"

The pleasantly voiced woman continued on as her animated figure was displayed on grand video screens around the boarding area. Smaller screens with her image on it flickered beneath, helping individual passengers as they had one question or problem or another. Far above, in a tower control room looming over the various landing platforms and ships, Grand Overseer Piotr Viktrovych Medvedchuk smiled, waiving to the press that zoomed in form below, before turning to his advisors and withdrawing from the window, his smile turning to a cold, pressed line, eyes narrowed on one of the viewscreens before him.

"They know nothing?"

"Nothing, Grand Overseer."

"Good. The Americans grow more suspicious by every passing day, what with this project and that project. We cannot allow them Alpha Centauri. MAD would fall apart in a moment if they had a solid colony from which to fall back to. The weapons, are they ready?"

"Yes, Grand Overseer."

"I don't want any nuclear weapons on this one. The Poles are a fiesty bunch, and if we're just going to put them to work on the mines I don't want them finding out last moment and making some... poor choices. And the escorts, manned and ready?"

"Indeed, Grand Overseer. Only the projectile ships and slugthrowers; if it seems they have for some reason gone against procedure, the lazer-equipped ships should outrange them effectively enough."

Piotr smirked. "Well, it's one way to get rid of a Pole... What of the experiments?"

"Radiology department already has subjects ready for placement in cryosleep. Project Arkona I and II are online; synchronous reality simulations are present and established. Of course, the nature of the project isn't pressed upon the troops and security, as it's mostly training related and informative with some portions of recreation for them. But the control groups, test group I, and test group II are almost entirely assessed with MBTI Typography personality testing, and imprinting will be done over the course of the next forty years. As you know, Test Group I will have enforcement methods applied, and Test Group II will have implantment methods applied; Control groups will have the assured success of coercion methods applied, since we already know it's effective over such a long timespan."

His smirk grew into a grin. "And with the Poles derived of any will to act save but to serve us, the colonies will remain well within our control, peaceful and subjugate. We may not even need to police them, hah! But it's always good to have a big gun around in case the damned Americans show up."

"What of the Europeans? I hear they've thought of the same thing."

Piotr waved him off. "Free maple syrup for the defenders once we get there. We're launching today; they have nothing faster than us. How could they get there before us? Besides. There's always the chance of a catastrophic failure to communications, and the Europeans aren't known for their exceptional craftsmanship. I'm sure there will be no problems."

"We got a problem."

Trey Parker let out a slow sigh. He was on assignment from the CIA, deep in Poland. The nation had fallen to the Russians, or, at least, the Russian-Ukranian Federation, once more. But the occupation of Poland these past few decades was not the same as beforehand. There weren't crushing tanks and marching boots and walls being built. It was all rather eerie what was going on here, ever since he had come and fully understood what exactly had happened.

Everyone knew of Sesame Credit, an ambitious project that the Chinese started back in the early 2010’s. It was a simple videogame that the Chinese began to incorporate into daily life, awarding points to one person here for their contributions to the party and deducting points to those who didn’t, or to those who associated with people with low scores. Russia knew of it, too. But they took it a step further than attributing points and rewarding good behavior.

No. This simple little ‘videogame’ turned into the simple most powerful means of subjugation east of the Oder river. Peer pressure, neighbor influencing neighbor, gradually turned the nations of the East into cultures of almost pure obedience. It was nearly Orwellian. The United States, European Union, and even a few African and South American nations along with portions of India passed measures outlawing such ‘games’, either on the basis of continuing free will in democracy or because it was feared that such a game could be hacked and used against the government that allowed its existence (which happened numerous times in western Russia-Ukraine, and almost daily in Poland, but to little avail as most breaches were patched before a few hundred could catch a glimpse of the breach). Russia slowly encroached on the eastern members of the European Union after it firmly couped Ukraine in a 6-year coup that ended in 2020, swallowing it whole in a series of referendums and ‘popular polls’, much to the chagrin of Western powers. Slavicredit, Russia’s version of Sesame Credit, soon became a mandatory application that all those with phones and computers had to participate in at least once a month; then, once a week, and now daily.

The Baltic nations, as well as Poland, fell from the inside. They felt they were being integrated far too much into a grander European state, and wanted out - fast. They saw the economic turmoil in Greece of the early 2010’s, and refused to be a part of it, the government increasingly radicalizing - and the situation being capitalized on one by one by Russia. Putin and his ilk did not move swift as they did on the end of World War II - no, even Poland itself had only been ‘re-claimed’ just in 2087 and the Pan-Slavic Alliance for Co-Prosperity was announced, to Serbia’s grand celebration. The average person of Poland, however, still saw Russia as an aggressor, and as an unwanted - yet partially necessary - ‘overlord’ of the “alliance”. It was a routine habit for teenagers to say ‘fuck the system’ and attempt to reach newer ‘low’ scores by doing as much as they could against the State and Slavicredit. But the ‘rewards’ for low scores toiled on Poland and the populace that refused to conform - some went with less food. Some were selected for mining and other menial tasks, and restricted from higher paying jobs. Some were selected for mining 'off world'. And some… Some were allocated to Project Arkona.

The intelligence reports had not been good, but what Trey had uncovered here was worse than what even the Pentagon had thought. Project Arkona wasn’t just an attempt to find a way to deport Poles so that the Russians could move in and ‘colonize’ Poland due to Poland’s near refusal to conform to PSACPro’s Slavicredit. This wasn’t even simply an attempt to colonize Alpha Centauri. No; this was a grand attempt at forcing and dominating the will of a human mind.

They did, indeed, have a problem.

“What is it, Hanks?”

“Your account doesn’t look like it’s matching up with the Slavicredit main servers. I think your cover might be blown.” Hanks voice crackled in his implanted earpiece. “We’re pulling you out.”

Trey grimaced, retorting under his breath. “Servers go down, it’s a thing that happens. This is Russian stuff we’re talking about; it’s maybe a bit more reliable than a North Korean rocket.”

“We can’t afford to lose you. You’re in deep enough that you can be used elsewhere. We need-”

“To get these people out of here, Hank.” Trey pretended to be holding a small phone, trying to avoid the gaze of the Poles and, especially, the Russians standing guard. He was almost aboard one of the transport ships. “This is the one chance we have. The entire fleet is affixed to a single slave circuit - you only need access to the main computer, and you can change just about anything. I’m going in.”

“Trey, stop this. Agent Parker, you are withdrawing. Trey! Damnit man, don’t-”

He shut off his receiver with a light press to his earlobe, smiling and making smalltalk with those around him, before entering the ship. The Russian before him stopped him, taking a look at his cell phone before him. Most of the poorer Poles could only afford the phones rather than implants or even the archaic Bluetooth headwear, with how much the Russians restricted them for their non-conformity. It was something he took as assurance. The guard looked down at his worn phone, checked his Slavicredit account, squinted between his profile picture and Trey’s face, and finally gave it back to him, motioning him inside.

This would work.

Cryosleep.

They told everyone they wouldn’t dream in cryosleep. At least, they didn’t tell them that their first time.

But the Russians had a way of cancelling out the cryosleep nightmares. Virtual realities. Usually, in cryosleep, one would simply fall asleep and, from time to time, have dreams, but usually suffered horrific nightmares instead if they weren’t the lucky ones to get through without anything interesting bouncing off their skulls.

This virtual reality was a ‘beta’ of sorts, as far as Trey could tell. He was well enough aware of himself; he’d undergone training in the past, the CIA delving just as much as the Russians and the Chinese into the realms of virtual reality in an effort to better interrogate those they deemed of importance. These things had a trick of convincing you that it was more than just a videogame. That it was better than life itself, from time to time. Or that it would never end, and you would simply live in ceaseless torment. You could work these things to mess with how you perceive time, especially when you’re asleep. Experiments with ‘flash training’ in this technique were outlawed, of course, but that didn’t stop a select few from doing so; it was deemed too dangerous and open to manipulation, and the conservatives back home in the US just wouldn’t stand to have their kids jacked up to a machine while they sleep so that they could earn a degree in a month. It just ‘wasn’t right’.

Trey chuckled internally; no sound really came from him in the VR. Of course, what he was doing right now certainly ‘wasn’t right’. The information he had gleaned on Project Arkona was simple: There were three groups put in place within the VR test groups. One was the control group; “Persuasion”. Luckily, Trey was a part of the control group. Within the control group, simple subliminal messages and “NPC’s” within the VR would be used to attempt to modify your personality, viewpoints, and the like, over the course of years, to turn you into whatever kind of person the Russians really wanted you to be. It was a subtle thing, and with the arrival at Alpha Centauri dated tentatively at 40 years, was sure to work on its intent; no doubt the Russians had tried it in the past and succeeded, otherwise the intel he acquired in Moscow wouldn’t have labeled this a ‘control’ group. It wasn’t a bad thing. It just simply… well, was. It was as if he was living his life again back ‘home’, in Lublin where his profile said he was born, interacting with his ‘family’, only his ‘family’ would gradually bring topics of politics up to light, and his coworkers would encourage him to vote for a certain politician, and his wife would be supportive of him working more hours. The CIA would joke about how the Russians would ‘program’ wet dreams for a good day’s work, it was so absurd to the United States, but nonetheless Trey wouldn’t put it beyond them.

Group I was a modification of the ‘persuasion’ method of the control group: Implantation. Thoughts would be inserted directly into the thought process of the user. There wouldn’t be external stimuli; there would be internal stimuli. Depression, sickness, self esteem issues and even suicidal tendencies would crop up within those using the VR as they went throughout their alternate lives.

Group II was simple force. The people within the VR would not have a choice. They would conform and submit to the pan-Slavic way of life, for the next forty years, subservient to those above them, taking orders as they should, all independent thought ironed out of them in what would seem like an eternity. Trey grimaced. Dreams could seem like they went on for years sometimes to some people; if the VR could ‘alter’ the perception of time, what if the 40 years truly could be stretched to centuries, at least according to the user’s percepti-

His ear began to ring. He could feel something warm on his chest. He opened his eyes.

There was a hole where his earlobe used to be. The implant did its trick - after all, it wasn’t just for calling someone. He was freezing, but he was awake, and he could hear the whirrs of the failsafes clicking into motion as he burst forth from the cryosleep capsule. Shivering the whole while, he checked the hallway before sprinting awkwardly down towards the “bridge”. There would only be a few Russians on board, after all; it was filled with sleeping Poles, and posed no security threat.

It was at this point, of course, that he realized he was naked.

But such is to be expected in cryosleep. Otherwise you sometimes have to pry the clothing from your own body in an awkward display, revealing yourself to whoever wakes you up to begin with.

Alarms began to blare as the system caught up with itself, finally reporting in delayed Russian engineering manner that a cryosleep pod had been destroyed. Yet no-one came. Trey tentatively peeked around the corner, and the garrison guard’s cryosleep capsules were already locked tight for a set schedule, apparently disregarding their job as meaningless considering all of their ‘subjects’ were fast asleep.

Trey smirked. This was almost too easy.

The slave-rigged ship’s control panel stood before him. The transports were a simple thing, of course. And after the week or so of travel, it was most likely that the ships would be automated and devoid of most if not all of their human overseers. But even if someone would have been at the controls of their station, what Trey was about to do would override their control. This was one of the drawbacks of having a slave-rigged fleet such as this; a simple hacker, with the right tools and the right knowledge, could take over the entire fleet. The benefit, of course, was cost saving and really only needing one person to pilot hundreds of ships.

He could tell that what he was about to do would set a precedent of never, ever again using a slave-rigged fleet of this size or importance.

He had just about all the time in the world, really. Simple provisions and clothing that didn’t quite fit were available to him, and a medical cabinet helped to stem the flow of blood from his ear which he had nearly forgotten he had partially blown up to escape cryosleep, ensured that even if it took him the next forty years, he could take his time, bypass the failsafes, and take control of the whole fleet.

It took some time, to be sure. But nevertheless, with time and the right set of skills and patience, he had full control.

The first thing he did was end all notifications to all other ships that he had control. Perhaps a blip might have squeaked past, and someone might have seen it, but it would now report all systems normal. The second thing he did, with much glee, was instead re-assign the Virtual Reality applications, subjecting the Russian guards and colonists to their own tests, and instead giving the Poles free reign within the Russian-styled VR application. This would allow the Poles the ability to simply pass the time in the Virtual Reality, to interact with others within the virtual reality, and even to undergo voluntary ‘flash training’ for certain aspects of what they would need. He also ‘leaked’ within the Virtual Reality that the Poles would now be in charge of their own colonial endeavor, freed from the Russians. The third thing he did was simply change course - to Bootis. Alpha Centauri was too close to Sol; he had to think of the future centuries, after all. What if there were weapons that could reach as far as one system to another in that distance? And besides, the Russians knew the colony was headed to Alpha Centauri; Bootis was distant, and uninteresting to most.

Smiling, he locked in the arrangements, and…

“Curious.”

He jolted about, a simple holdout pistol from the Russian’s weapons locker now in his hand as Trey came face to face with someone he had never seen before.

“Very curious.” The man before him tapped a cane against the cold floor of the ship. Trey could feel a tugging inside him, an odd sensation he had never felt before; he glanced over his shoulder. Space itself seemed to be unfolding in front of him in a ring, the stars beyond seemingly foreign and distorted. “I suppose it’s entertaining enough to let slide. You’re very fortunate, you know. Alpha Centauri would have been… catastrophic.”

The man was a tall caucasian, black curly hair, dressed in some Victorian-era style suit with a black cane. Trey simply remained all the more confused, finding himself unable to speak as the stranger continued. “Cryosleep does interesting things to a mind, especially when one is being tested and probed, doesn’t it? You could be hallucinating. Or I could be a Russian eccentric who never really enjoyed the whole VR experience. But then again, I am speaking English as far as you can tell.”

He chuckled darkly. “A World-War 3 powder keg has been stopped, and the nuclear holocaust has been avoided in Sol - for now. Congratulations are in order, Mr. Parker. You’ve temporarily saved humanity from itself. Now, there’s far more threats than just that, but, for now, it’d seem you’ve saved ten million at the least from total annihilation. But alas, there’s always got to be a… complication.” A smirk grew upon the stranger’s face. “It’s all in good fun, I assure you.”

Before Trey could react, he simply felt compelled to put the gun to his head.

“Trust me.”

And then he pulled the trigger.

I will be claiming the settlers of Project Arkona as they initially enter Bootis after being stuck in an irregularity of some sort, perhaps an uncontrolled wormhole that wasn’t regulated by a warp gate; the nature of the irregularity is unknown, as nobody alive witnessed its occurrence due to everyone being in cryosleep. Regardless, they have the ability to terraform a planet, and are outfitted with 2120’s era Russian-Ukranian weaponry, complete with mechs and projectile weapons. I will be rolling in the comments as for how their society and culture has been influenced due to their time in Virtual Reality.

A bit of an explanation for the unnamed ‘mysterious stranger’/G-Man type character at the end. It is entirely plausible that due to the shock to Trey’s brain of the small yet close ‘explosion’ from his implant in his ear, or due to his unscheduled and impromptu escape from cryosleep and subsequent utter lack of human interaction, he may have simply gone insane, hopeless, and hallucinating, and ending up killing himself. Or, there actually is an entity out there that can do what the guy did in the roleplay. Perhaps more will be revealed in due time? Or perhaps it really is nothing? Time will tell...