A planet had recently voted in a two-foot-tall bug as its leader.

This obviously caused a stir with the other three planets.

Especially because this now insect-lead planet was the largest, most ruthless military force in Gardenian history. And the planet was, if you'll excuse the pun, getting quite antsy.

However most of the actual populace of the other planets were either indifferent, ignorant, or took it as simply the gossip of the day, equal in importance with some celebrity getting pregnant or a serial rapist getting caught. They'd change their minds eventually, of course, but for the moment it was only worth a few headlines, a chuckle, and a sentence.

The real worry was among the upper-levels of politics. You see, things had been shaky for quite a few years politically, and the balance of who's who in the planetary scheme of government was slowly being rocked. The militaristic Emtion had been bad enough when it wasn't unified, making near mutinous demands for decades and basically tossing any laws imposed upon it to the pigs. Now that it had a singular voice to speak for it, to lead it, people who once laughed at the planet were getting rather frightened.

Most of these people were from Persin.

The reason for this was that Persin, it being the center of commerce and industry for anything and everything more or less, had held itself at the planetary leader for countless generations. It had never needed to defend its position as ringleader of the circus, if only because that's the way it had always been and no one felt like going through the trouble of mucking it all up.

Besides Emtion, that is. Emtion was itself the historical rubbish ground for Persin, who had, early in advanced civilization's history, shipped all of its unwanted persons to the barren wasteland that was the desert half of Emtion. The natives of the planet didn't want to deal with that sort of shit, and promptly picked their things up and all moved to the heavily forested half of the planet. Persin looked the other way as the desert-dwellers and forest-fugitives began to bicker amongst themselves and descend into centuries-long war.

Recently, this little bug of theirs had begun making his own political rounds, calling back to this rather distasteful shared history. He then began pointing a clawed finger back at Persin, who was enjoying being the center of everything in the Gardenian planetary system while Emtion was busy trying to tear its own intestines out. Successfully swayed, the two warring Emtian factions agreed to drop the tiring argument, and the little bug was voted leader.

The leader of the entire planet. An entire planet who had known nothing but war, and one-upmanship. Hence leader of an entire planet of highly advanced weapons and soldiers. Who were all very irritated with Persin, who had never known a need to even think of a trained and battle-ready military program.

So you can see why most of the frightened people were of Persling nationality.

But it should be mentioned that there were a few Persling people who were quietly rejoicing amongst themselves. They were doing so in the safety of their homes with the guarded comfort of people who knew terror was on the way, and who planned to run in the opposite direction sometime soon. A couple of these lunatics were saying their nightly goodbyes in a residential section Pouvalgo, the largest Persling city (largest meaning it spanned a good eighth of the planet's surface as a singular body, not counting suburbs). They stood on the steps of a small, squeezed-looking building, looking mildly silver in the moonlight.

One stood shivering in the doorway, with twitching antennae perched on the sides of a circular bald head. His small, widely-spaced eyes caught the light every once in a while, reflecting it off their perfectly black, unmoving surfaces. A grotesquely large mouth hung under these, curved in a terrible attempt at a friendly smile. He was dressed in simple black satin-like clothes, with almost Oriental-style collar and sleeves. Overall, he looked rather funny.

"We'll meet up later in the month, then?" said he, his low voice tinged with the smallest extraterrestrial accent.

"That's what it looks like."

His accomplice was vaguely canid, light tan with darker circles around his eyes. His voice was spoken in a casual loudness, slurred with the local dialect. And, despite his muzzle, he was much, much better at smiling.

With a few curt good-byes, they shook hands, and the bald one retreated back into his home. Even those with mutinous thoughts had to sleep, after all, even if it seemed like their adversaries did not.