Act 4
Immediately, Fera'Xero knew that the situation depended utterly on his own efforts. They had pulled back all of their troops acting as peacekeepers between the mining towns and the Bulgarian villages in the area. They might be winning against the IARO rising, but they had no reserves, and the planet would boil over if the BNC joined the IARO, which they probably would if the Rejuvenation Society rose unchecked.
The satellites he had deployed into orbit had been mapping the planet with each track, across multiple spectra and bands of data. From those masses of data came the problem of pattern hunting. True AI could do this but true AI grew naturally more unstable the larger it got. partial-AI or VI to his home universe worked acceptably well, processing the data in a blink of an eye, the problem became when it was trying to find significance within the patterns. What was significance? What if you didn't know in advance?
If significance was not 'well posed', then the VI could simply miss it and continue to optimise. The best way to avoid this was to integrate sapient observation, but since sapient observation was intensely slow compared to the computations, you needed good triggers for when it was called for.
The step already fully complete had been simple cropping. This required no effort, once programmed the computers ran through it straightforwardly. It was clear the Rejuvenation Society would not hide its heavy weapons too far away from one of the towns it held, or it could not access them in a militarily useful period of time. When that work was done, the real work started. The computer filtered images down to signatures appropriate for tunnels, or recently turned Earth, and analyzed forest canopies for heat differences.
When it pinged an anomaly, Fera'Xero brought it up and had a look. If the anomaly looked promising, then he could cue the sensors to sift through masses of multispectral data in the area to determine whether or not equipment was underground in bulk. At the same time, a second program was identifying all visible mining equipment. This combined third step was what he was still working on.
To accelerate it, knowing how dire the situation was, he now focused in on the mine entrances, having already having had several hits with equipment underground near the main towns. Track width in the visuals of tracks in the approach to the tunnels were compared with that on the equipment through a quick subroutine. Once it was clear there were three locations where they didn't match, he ran the detailed detection routines through the tunnels.
Zhen'var didn't speak again. She didn't press him, she didn't ask about his progress. He was being trusted by his Captain, but with that trust, he could feel the expectation that he would generate results. That expectation, implicit in her command, made him want to prove himself, and it was with extreme relief that he generated the list of three sites and shot it to Zhen'var, Tactical, and Operations. The statistical postprocessing completed a moment later. "Captain, I have the caches with ninety-nine two probability. No significant probability elsewhere."
"Thank you, Commander, good work. Commander Saumarez?"
"They're too close to towns for us to avoid collateral damage unless we use the fighters."
Zhen'var activated a line to Lar'shan. "Major, what is your status?"
"Returning to the Huáscar to rearm, it will take twenty minutes to get even a single flight off from that, Captain."
"Too long, they will have moved the equipment by then," Zhen'var looked down, then back up, and spoke in general to her bridge crew. "Suggestions?"
At Navigation, Arterus paused in his completely mundane task while maintaining orbit. The question was open-ended and clearly meant for more than just the usual suspects. Elia Saumarez knew altogether very little about weapons effects, in fact.
He had felt embarrassed by his past answers to the Captain's intent, but now, if he were to keep his honour, he'd make himself useful regardless. "Use the training settings, Captain, on the energy weapons. Long duration, tight beam, high-precision fires. Collapse the tunnels with minimum effect. Better yet, if we can deliver torpedoes accurately, fire the training torpedoes without warheads."
Zhen'var didn't need long. "Lieutenant Seldayiv, can we implement?"
And now it was the Dorei woman's turn to feel on the spot. She knew that like Arterus her first weeks on the Huáscar had been rocky. But her Goddess' attitude was clear, and the needs of the situation as well. Daria swallowed, considering the separation of only a few hundred meters between targets and towns. "Laying firing solutions in now, Captain."
"Report when ready," Zhen'var answered, and a dim feeling of pleasure seemed to reach Daria's senses. It reassured her, and she completed the preparations in a bare minute of reprogramming, confirming lock-downs and repositioning torpedoes autonomously in the magazines.
"Ready, Captain."
"Very good. You are to engage targets as designated by Science Officer at your discretion," Zhen'var ordered. That one she had kept for herself.
Feeling like a natural extension of the team, Daria whispered a prayer for those on the ground, and started to fire. One after another, the tunnels collapsed. There would be no second rising today.
By the next day, the situation had fully calmed. There was no more organised fighting, though hit and run attacks by small groups were continuing here and there, predominantly the IARO. The Rejuvenation Society had accepted the order to stand-down with far more order.
It was right around lunch when Zhen'var got the request from Commander Imra for a meeting. It was tagged both professional and relevant to recent events.
She tapped an acknowledgement, and suggestion to meet for a working lunch, it would get her in immediately, and stop the Captain's schedule from starting the inexorable rightward slide that would inevitably result from trying to fit a new event into it.
Commander Imra agreed, and arrived a few minutes later for the proffered lunch. The expected sartorial accoutrements of gloves and sunglasses were as present as ever, and she had her omnitool. "Captain, thank you for seeing me so quickly."
"Your insights are often quite valuable, Commander. Please, have a seat." She had a simple curried meat dish before her, as her hand gestured towards a chair.
"Of course, Captain." She sat, and then turned to the replicator to make her order. "Kitfo," she pronounced precisely. What appeared was a dish of minced raw meat with chili powder. She grimaced politely. "Forgive me, but of course, replicated meat does not harm any of Mother Cow, so I did not mean it as an offence, but thought it acceptable. It is - all artificial, in the end."
"What I believe is not a matter to be forced on others. It is not as if most Dilgar would hesitate even a fraction if presented with such a dish." Her head shook slightly, as Zhen'var speared a bit of replicated lamb with her fork.
"Fair. The multiverse is very cruel, dharma probably the best hope of everyone, but I was raised Orthodox, and so here I am." She ate slowly. "Captain, the Turians are coming to claim this world. For want of anything else, I was keeping up with the news reports from the treaty negotiations and allocations. We are partners in… I am oathsworn not to criticise my civilian leadership, however, we must be mindful that if this situation is not handled carefully the people of this planet will again be cruelly oppressed."
"Agreed. We are limited in what we can do overtly, but… if word reached the two factions… they hate each other, but a Turian invasion? I am unsure."
"The Turians may be willing to negotiate. The norms of the Citadel Council are basically democratic, and the Turians, exceptionally law-abiding. They brook no dissent, but they are not Nazis, and by contrast may be favourable. I… It might help if we could clearly differentiate the Bulgarian and Japanese populations from the enemy, Captain. Enemy in the Turian eyes, I mean."
"Unfortunately, there are no Nazis for them to demonstrate that particular virtue against. That would be easy enough, if there were still Reich forces holding out." Zhen'var sighed, and leaned back in her chair, food half-forgotten.
Rare for Abebech, she didn't neglect hers. "That's not completely true. There's certainly holdouts and stay-behinds on the planet. Should we act this way, Captain? Risk problems for the Turians in favour of finding peace here and now, but gamble that everyone will be better off as a consequence?"
"I think it a better thing for the planet than letting them continue the way they are, Commander Imra." She looked so uneasy about coming out and saying that risking this level of problem just might pay off.
"I believe I understand, Captain," she said, sharply and very calmly. "Well, the next few days will be interesting in the Chinese sense of the word, not like we haven't already had that. Speaking of, is Commander Saumarez doing all right?"
"No, but she is holding herself together and doing her duty. I can barely hope to understand the smallest hints of what she is going through." Zhen'var spoke more softly and conversationally.
"I had thought as much. I…" Abebech paused, and pursed her lips. "I feel regretful, for I stay away from other telepaths, on account of my past. I should not say more, for, it is what it is. I hope she will be well. You are a fine friend to have, Captain."
About an hour later, Zhen'var's omnitool trilled with a message from Elia. "Captain, this is Commander Saumarez. I've got a leader of the Rejuvenation Society on channel. He wants to come to the Huáscar to negotiate directly with us and is prepared to meet without preconditions with the Bulgarian National Council. Captain, I recommend accepting the proposal. It is without preconditions, and Mr., ah, Takahashi Gendo."
"I concur, Commander. Inform him we are accepting his proposal, and prepare to inform the National Council of it as well - once we have sounded out the Rejuvenation Society." The feeling that, perhaps, they were turning the corner and making progress made Zhen'var's lips curl into a smile of their own accord.
"Understood, Captain. One moment." There was a pause, and then: "We have beaming coordinates. Shall I bring him directly onboard and arrange for one of the conference suites? No party, it's just Mr. Takahashi."
"Please do. I will be down once I am presentable for a diplomatic meeting. Thank you, Commander." She could not completely hide the grimace at the thought of yet another occasion to pull out her Alliance dress uniform.
Nonetheless, a few minutes later the Rejuvenation Society representative was there. He was a tough, calloused man with a balding head and graying hair, burly in the classically Japanese way, but dressed in Edo period finery. That was a shocking contrast to the jumpsuits and practical miner's garb of the other Rejuvenation Society leaders seen so far. Elia was standing to the side, making sure that the shipboard hospitality was appropriate. Japanese was in some way the second great culture of her Earth, and she understood the appropriate forms.
Arriving, Captain Zhen'var pressed her palms together and bowed slightly. "Hajimemashite, Takahashi-san." Having grown up on the same Earth, the Captain had her own understanding of the forms expected with one who did not speak the language.
He looked archly at the alien woman for a moment, and in particular at the sword buckled on her side. Then he bowed. "Hajimemashite, Battlemaster Zhen'var." He had been doing his own research.
"The pattern of Dilgar ceremonial swords, and their art of use, is very similar to that of the katana, Takahashi-san. It was not taken as a prize in the war, it was forged for me when I was awarded my commission in the Union's Navy."
"I think we understand a great deal of each other," he replied after a moment, very deliberately. "My people were once the allies of these Germans, but they undid us into utter ruin, such that we would have known a better fate to be defeated in that long-off war."
"Sometimes one must endure the unendurable, that one may again find pride in a future that cannot be seen from the present. Please, sit. Thank you for coming, I hope we both find satisfaction in what we are to discuss."
He sat. "Endure the unendurable. How true of you, Battlemaster. When my people made a choice to live, we had to reach our accommodation with this power. We could not forget who we were, in hope of the future and honour of our ancestors. I am one of those whose lineage remembers. The Rejuvenation Society speaks of moral, natural rejuvenation."
"Such is what we have undergone as well, three lines of thought now coming together once more into one. We are few, but we have rediscovered our spirit and our pride. I encourage you in yours, so long as it does not lead to the crushing of others rising to find theirs again in so doing. Just the same, I will not permit them to do the same to you."
"Battlemaster, your own situation is fortunate. When your rescuers came, you were under arms with a fleet in space. The reality is that you do not control our final fate. And this despite the fact our resistance to the Nazi tyranny has been long. After the defeat of the last resistance in the Americas in the 21st century, Dai-Nippon divided the world with the Reich. It was only as we spread beyond the solar system that we were brought low. But we were not the Reich, not in those days. I understand the Jews, what remained, were the friends of your Alliance from the first, and perhaps showed you the way to defeat the Reich?"
"I do not, but my voice, and my actions, to assist you in taking control of your fate." A pause. "They did assist us, and fight alongside the Alliance in the final campaign. That is correct, Takahashi-san."
"They got their technology from Japan!" He chuckled softly. "The Kaifeng Jews, the refugees of Russia and the east who came to our lands - the Jewish Autonomous Oblast of the Soviet Union. These places we had Jews, we did not turn them over to the Reich. When the war was over and we were defeated, we could not bear to see our enemies complete our humiliation. One of my ancestors gave the order, and handed them several star cruisers of the Imperial Japanese Navy, before committing seppuku to avoid more reprisals upon our people from the Germans. That is the story of how they escaped the trap the Reich had laid for them." He followed her eyes, sharply.
She shifted, leaning back in her chair. "I will seek to confirm the information in a way that raises it to the attention of those responsible for the future course of this world, and others with your people upon them. It speaks very well to your people, and fits with the best of Nippon, her traditions, and her people."
"I am willing to negotiate with the Bulgarian National Council on the basis of a single planetary government with community power sharing enshrined in the constitution," he said after a silent moment. "We both have a long time, long history of resisting the Nazi power. Our peoples both fought in many different ways when we were betrayed, we are more alike, even in the ancient past the Bulgarians were Asians. We have common ground, and we are prepared to work to find it. Will you tell them? Will you support the talks? Their greed is short-sighted, but if we can make a mutually advantageous arrangement, we may still win them over."
"I will. My Marines are holding a small fishing village that is now something of an island of neutrality between your peoples." She went on, daring to hope, at least a moment. "Your effort has my full support, Takahashi-san. Your people, together, hold more right to this world than any others may, no matter what the extremists may wish in their short-sighted desires."
"Tomorrow, a conference, if Alferov agrees. The place will be fine."
"I shall contact him at once, then. Osaki ni shitsureishimasu, Takahashi-san." She knew her Japanese was not the best, but she would make the effort. For a moment, at least, it seemed like Drachenfeldt might have an even shot at peace.
Stepan Stepanovich's Outlanders Hotel was seeing more business than he had ever dreamed of since the Reich was overthrown. Turned into an impromptu conference facility, a solid hundred people, half from the Bulgarian National Council and half from the Rejuvenation Societies, were packed into its halls. It had been important enough for both Will and Zhen'var to go to the surface, with Commander Imra left in charge on the Huáscar.
The Captain, hiding her anxiousness, looked about the place, noting just how many were here, and her Marines, holding security in their best, guns pointed outwards and thankful for it.
"Opening session seems to be going well," Will remarked. "For all the stereotype of diplomacy, nobody was really that unreasonable. When do you think we'll need to mediate?"
"Details and timing. Grand statements are easy, concrete commitments are hard, Commander. They do not have a lot of time, either, and the Nazis put as much distance between them as they possibly could."
"Do we have any idea of how to make it work? I know in the Colonies we had absolute Colonial representation regardless of population, but that isn't considered highly democratic. Seems to be something like what Mr. Takahashi proposed, though."
"Usually, it works either with an external threat holding everyone together, or an external patron forcing some sort of power-sharing, but those are unstable. His plan should work… if there is an external threat to remind of the alternative."
"So, you're saying my people are weird," Will flashed a wry grin.
"Out of the usual ordinary, perhaps, but I would not call them weird, Commander. You chose your government, and to prevent tyranny against a lesser-populated division of a nation, it is not unheard of, at the least?"
"You're right. If only it still mattered…" Will wasn't the kind of man to dwell, though. He glanced over and started in surprise. "Hmm. I think that's Alexandra Tambovna."
"Alexandra Tambovna?" Zhen'var blinked and followed his eyes to the girl organising the serving staff.
"One of Gergena Tambovna's children, I saw them in the recordings Stasia's people took, from the trawler operation."
"Ah. Brave of them. She must be taking day labour jobs for her family, then. The situation remains very unfortunate on the surface."
"Yes it does. But maybe we'll actually have a chance to help with that now." Will glanced at his omnitool. "It's almost time for the first session."
"Well, cover me, I am going in." She gave a thin smile, as the captain straightened and moved to take her position at the table.
Alferov and Takahashi sat at the sides. Most of the others weren't even at the main conference room, they were there just because they were too politically important not to invite.
"Good morning, gentlemen. I and the Alliance are here to mediate, but the work of negotiation and agreement is in bulk, yours. This world is claimed by both of you, gained by the sweat and blood shed under Nazi oppression. I find both cases compelling, as shall my superiors."
"There is land enough to share on Drachenfeldt," Alferov said, using the German name. "We have always been prepared to share that. Captain, the Nazis have spent so long degenerating our culture. We want to celebrate it. That is where the crux of our separation comes from. It is not disrespect."
"The mines, however, are an element that both sides require to be a state capable of standing without constant outside support in the multiverse. That is the issue, is it not?"
"They are the future prosperity of our people," Alferov replied.
"They are the blood and sweat of our's," Takahashi countered. "We did not have a choice but to work them."
"It was the Nazis who gave you no such choice, miner. As for us, they would let us own nothing else."
"And yet you both need them, sirs. You both need them, as common heritage, or the other will be so weak that another power could swoop down, gain a foothold, and then threaten the one holding the mines. I do not need to speak in hypotheticals, neither can stand without them. Bulgarians do not work them, and Japanese were denied anything but working them."
"We can bring…"
The look that Takahashi gave to Alferov made him trail off. "Machines? Buying them will cast you into slavery. Yet another group of castoffs? Fight two at once instead of one? Is this what you want to bring to your people?"
"You want the mines, and this…"
"President," Takahashi then addressed Alferov. "I want the Japanese people of Drachenfeldt to regain their pride. Once we built starships. I do not want us to be a nation in the mines forever."
"And you, Mister President, want the Bulgarian people to do the same. You can have national pride without destroying the other. A condominium."
"A Republic of Both Nations," Alferov muttered, from some distantly remembered lesson of old Earth history, perhaps.
"We will share power, fairly. Half the seats in the legislature to each nation," Takahashi pressed, seeing a moment.
Alferov looked up dimly. "But the mines? Wait, Captain, do you mean the mines?"
"I do, President. My suggestion would be that both states be confederated to act in common with foreign relations, in order that others may not pry you apart, both states fully sovereign, and with the mines under the control of both sides, equally, but owned by neither. The common heritage of the people of this world."
"And the wealth we will lose? Private industry will clamour for compensation." Alferov looked almost dazed.
"You would not like it if a true accounting of the cost of our forced labour were taken, President," Takahashi replied.
"It is in both your best interests to accept that the mines are not a prize to be fought over, or an issue to be exploited."
Will stepped in smoothly from where he had been silent at Zhen'var's side. "Gentlemen, a proposal: All revenue from the condominion will belong to the State, but when the revenue is in excess of needs of both communities, it will automatically be paid toward a fund whose job is to invest and repay the interests of the former private owners."
The men looked to each other. Alferov squinted. Several of his men were muttering behind him and to his left. There were many who wanted more.
Then Will turned and whispered to Zhen'var's ear. "A Turian squadron is coming, Captain."
Then we're out of time. In a moment, paths crystalized before Zhen'var. They deserve a chance. Deliberately, she turned her head, and asked clearly, with a momentary casting of her eyes towards the negotiators; "I am sorry, Commander, I did not hear that. Could you please repeat it?"
"Of course, Captain. A Turian squadron is coming to Drachenfeldt to claim possession for the Hierarchy."
Alferov's face lost all expression. His men muttered, and some cursed out loud. The Rejuvenation Society delegates were silent.
And then the Bulgarian man rose, and extended a hand across the table, his skin pale and a bead of sweat above his eye. "We have a basis for the formation of a provisional government, Mister Takahashi. Vice President."
Takahashi shook his hand and then bowed. "We do, and we must be quick. Sir, we share this planet, and, if it becomes necessary, we will also defend it."
The next day, Zhen'var gathered her command group for an informal dinner. Properly, Nah'dur, Fei'nur and Anna also counted, but Elia, Abebech and Will were the line officers, and they were all available, anyway, with Lieutenant Arterria watchstanding. Quite astonishingly, since Zhen'var had never seen her drink anything other than wine before, Abebech had a sour Flemish ale, which Elia gave in and followed suit with.
"Congratulations, we have successfully thus far stopped the planet from bursting into civil conflict on anything more than a moderate scale." She herself nursed a Tiran fruit liquor, heavily cut with water. "Now the Turians are coming, and I am expecting to have an interesting conversation when they do."
"The Colonies fought many wars like this and only the Cylons brought us to unify with each other," Will answered. "Once we thought it was something of a wonder it had happened, but now I see it's really rather typical."
"I'd agree to that. There's nothing quite like another threat to be the start of a peace between two rival factions," Abebech answered. "Of course, the hate … Will linger. But much depends on what happens next."
"Power sharing governments of the type they want don't have a great history. Northern Ireland, Cyprus, Lebanon, in Earth history," Elia said. "And some of their hatred seems scarcely different from what telepaths experience at the hands of normals." She looked up wryly, glancing in particular to Abebech.
The woman, who was usually expressionless over such matters, offered a wan smile.
"The alternative is being under a Turian protectorate. Perhaps one might see it as the best solution, but if I endorse that, I endorse the occupation of my people the same."
Abebech raised her beer. "God Bless the Ottoman Empire," she said, in a half-serious and half-mocking toast. "Because people like to age with those who look like they do, and be close to one another, with those who think like they do. And so we are here today, holding them apart, and the Turians the next. Normally, to be honest, comrades, I would say a Government of Both Nations is a doomed cause. And yet… There is something to be said for the outside threat. But God forbid you ever see it without one. Forgive me for being a cynic."
"It's all right," Will shook his head. "What was the Ottoman Empire?"
"A great old Muslim 'Gunpowder Empire' from the Early Modern age, still exists in at least one universe I think. Ethnarchs, different laws for different people, but at least in our history their officers in the Balkans would write letters to their friends, saying they were gaolers on a madhouse," Elia explained. "I remember that part of the Corps political history lesson. The professor was very opinionated and absolutely convinced telepaths would have been treated better in the early modern nations. He was probably right, as sad as it is. There might be something to the Commander's toast."
"One can see some virtue - yet one living under an empire that uses force to keep the peace sometimes unbearable." Sighing, Zhen'var swirled her glass. "It is not wrong, unfortunately. You can establish such states, but they are rare. Switzerland, for instance, is the famous example, as is Canada and Quebec."
"Does that obviate us of the need to make the attempt? I think not," Abebech replied. "So, perhaps we can nudge things. It is not our obligation as Alliance offers to allow the Turians to trample on the rights of others, that is a different thing than the promise of actual possession for this world."
Will grimaced tightly. "Well, we can't go against the agreements of our own government either, Commander." Few people called Imra Abebech, rather than by her rank. But Will certainly felt in that moment she was trending toward something perhaps best not said out loud.
"Certainly not," Abebech replied modestly. "Still, it is the general intent of the Alliance to promote participatory self-government and democratic norms. We all swore to uphold that. The Harris Station Charter doesn't change it in the slightest."
"The moral choices are the hardest part of our service." Zhen'var's eyes flickered around the table. "Regardless, we have our orders. The Hierarchy is coming, though I also see a responsibility to ensure that the coalition we have just helped to birth can negotiate with any effort to impose rule upon them."
"Understood," Abebech smartly answered. There was nothing more on it from her, but one couldn't help but feel she had been given her marching orders clearly enough.
Violeta was sitting down, having a 'Southwest Chicken Salad' from the replicator and trying the coffee, which was at least authentic. The Hospitality section had installed an old style steel pot coffee maker because some of the crew from universes without replicators had actually grown up used to the subtle change in flavour from the keep-warm pot and preferred it, and there was no way a replicator could keep up with that. Apparently the rumour had it that's all the Chief's Mess drank, but there were nonhuman Chiefs so she doubted it. The original grounds were a blend called 'Nantucket' from some company in an American state called Vermont, she wasn't sure of the universe. A part of her wondered why the hell she'd given in and tried it and another part was worried she was going to start liking it. Actually, that's probably the same feeling. Sheesh.
The wardroom had the local news broadcast on the tri-dee. Some young Bulgarian guy with a big bouffant hairdo and an old-style business suit talked a mile a minute on it, everything he said was a lie (and sometimes patently racist enough to make Violeta's eyes goggle), and it was great black humour if you were so inclined. A couple of pilots at the bar kept laughing loudly at every cringing, ridiculous thing he said, including claiming that the artillery of the 'Panthers' paramilitaries was blessed by God so that it would never miss and that the Alliance troops would have been defeated without BNC assistance, when of course the BNC troops had never left their cantonments to fight the IARO over the risk of defections.
The screen flashed to an animation of a stereotypical Nazi depiction of a Jew with his hands rubbing together. "In our next segment we will consider if a Jewish element incited the Internal Apraxin Revolutionary Organization through false-flag operations to attack the Bulgarian National leadership. Doktor-naut Bogdan Princip," he welcomed his guest.
"Jesus Christ, that's enough!" One of the pilots shouted and flipped the channel back to the Armed Forces Network in the middle of a segment on the importance of Fall Protection Training. "How the fuck did that Peacham dude let this shit on the air?"
Violeta sighed in relief. It was nice to know her crewmates had limits.
Another voice spoke up from the food replicators. "Lieutenant Ferguson, I do believe the Brigadier is trying to set an example with permitting a relatively free press. Unfortunately the sentiments of the people do not really live up to it," Arterus explained from his food line.
"So they're not really monitoring it? Then why was the pirate broadcast illegal?"
"Well, they're trying to prevent specific incitement, so only approved channels are going up, but nobody is monitoring them in advance. I rather expect they will get in trouble for it later. Commander Saumarez explained to me what the problem with the Jews and the Reich was, though I confess I still don't really understand it."
"I don't think anyone does, Lieutenant," Ferguson answered.
Arterus shook his head wryly. Violeta gestured for him to come over. "Hey, Arterus. Come on."
"Ah, thank you…" He trailed off for a moment. "Violeta. I confess I'm not used to that."
"Oh, it's fine." She watched him sit. "I see you didn't avail yourself of the coffee pot."
"It's hardly going to be as strong as hholaer," he answered with a chuckle, gesturing to his cup on his tray.
"Rihannsu equivalent to coffee?"
"It's more like the Indigenous American black drink, but much stronger. So yes."
"What's the food?"
"Feihha. Chief Héen described it as, what was it, 'Spanakopita stuffed with cheese, oysters and jalapenos' when I got her to try to it."
"...I might try that sometime, actually. How are things?"
"I think I'm starting to actually understand what the Captain is doing. I went to Commander Imra for advice and she gave me a reading list. To some extent I believe the United Federation of Planets practices a lot of this, just in a different guise. It's interesting. Commander Imra's reputation certainly doesn't suggest she'd support it, but she does."
"It's kind of a mission-oriented tactics development for starship operations, in a way, I think," Violeta replied. "You should forward me that reading list. Commander Imra is… Distant, but nobody is going to deny she's one of the best starship commanders we have. Captain Andreys even said as much on the Aurora once."
"She reminds me of a certain kind of stereotypical Rihannsu female officer, usually commanding a Warbird on the frontier until well past the age of a hundred and fifty. I've thought my cousin has the making of the type before…"
"Your cousin?"
Before Arterus could answer, his eyes jerked to his omnitool. "Hmm, perhaps we should bring the broadcast from the surface back up."
"Arterus… Let's not?" Violeta grimaced.
"No, no, it's an official government announcement." That got everyone's attention, since more often than not Big Deal News was discovered by people in the military by watching news broadcasts, just like everyone else.
The screen returned to the image of the Bulgarian station, but the reporter was gone. Instead, they were focusing in on a podium, on which stood three Bulgarian and three Japanese men.
President Alferov was speaking. "People of Drachenfeldt, I stand before you today with representatives of the Rejuvenation Societies. We, of the Bulgarian National Council and the Rejuvenation Societies, have come to the true and profound realisation that Drachenfeldt is big enough for all of us. Tensions between our peoples were intentionally created by," Violeta cringed and for a moment wondered what he'd say, then he continued, fortunately, with "the Nazi tyranny and exacerbated by disputes over the Mines."
"The reality is that the Multiverse at large has many knives out for planets which can't keep the peace among their own people," he continued. "We cannot afford war among ourselves when greater, inestimably greater, challenges remain for the peace of our world. We have agreed to this and to a principle for condominion over the mines, to share the great wealth which will make us strong. Accordingly, we have agreed to a Declaration of Independence of the Confederal Republic of Drachenfeldt, on the basis of equality of both nations, Bulgarian and Japanese."
"Third declaration of a new country for Drachenfeldt in a week," Ferguson chuckled. "We'll see how long this one will last."
Arterus was looking thoughtful, though, as he turned back to Violeta. "Perhaps, just perhaps, longer than the others."
Second Lieutenant James Canusco, Alliance Marines, had his platoon stretched across two roadblocks at a converging V intersection around a 'flatiron' building which had been lightly damaged in the fighting with the IARO. The primary function of the continuing roadblocks in the city was to prevent concentrations of troops and insure the security of the government district. They had sensors deployed in the sewers, drones on patrol, and forward detection sensors in the buildings out from the checkpoints for a quarter mile.
Against another attack by the IARO, it would have been totally adequate. As it was there was a small cluster of people with Bulgarian nationalist signs and placards who were protesting a hundred meters down the street, but they were outside of the mandatory stop line and hadn't tried approaching it or started growing in numbers. A few beaten down old bums were drinking in the deserted streets, possibly from liquor bottles they had plundered from dead IARO men, but the bodies had all been collected and the fire department had washed down the blood and burnt debris. The calm was, in its own way, utterly unnerving.
There were a few businesses open since it was daylight, and people simply needed to get supplies considering they were all under a curfew. James stepped out of his headquarters to check on his men and take smoko. He lit up after checking the squads and stood still, taking a moment to watch some people going in and out of a deli. They were mostly carrying fresh baked bread, rough-hewn natural loaves, prepared food, cans of condensed milk with supplies from outside the city interrupted. It was bad enough to make field meals look appetizing, really.
"Lieutenant, Sir! We've got a signature!"
The voice of his sensors WO from inside made him drop the cigarette into the dry concrete of the street and dash inside. His sensor section for the platoon had one WO and two specialists, operating the complicated but highly automated network of drones and autonomous deployed sensors which instrumented the front they were covering in their sector.
"Go ahead, Kelli," he reached for a water bottle and leaned in.
"Sir," she tapped on the controller and highlighted a grid section, georeferenced with a 3D map of the city buildings. "There's a group following the lateral Nederstrasse. The signatures are consistent with about twenty-two individuals in SS Panzergrenadier armour. And they're using the stealth systems properly, I can barely pick them up at all."
"Well, that's considerably more competent than the last batch… Jesus." He activated a comm channel. "Bikie to Shovel, we've got a detachment in SS Panzergrenadier armour going up the Nederstrasse."
"Bikie," the Dilgar's voice answered in her growling British accent, "this is Shovel. Move out half your platoon and get in their rear. Further orders will be forthcoming from Condenser."
"Understood, Sir." Fei'nur's voice was terse and she'd immediately moved on to other things. After the initial contact report it was his company commander's job to give him orders anyway. What she was up to was answered moments later as James split his troops and started at a dog-trot down the right-hand street.
Explosions ripped the air as the company mortar section engaged and the crisp sounds of backwoods yankeedom echoed on his channel. "Bikie, they are confirmed hostile and we are providing support, get those positions now and cut 'em off!" Condenser was already in action.
With a snap survey of the buildings and an omnitool projection showing their interiors, he selected positions above the strasse and broke off fire-teams with his heavy support weapons to hold them. Orders were given in radio silence with hand gestures as explosions erupted across the city. A few civvies were still running for cover from the streets, leaping into the entrances to the cellars of rowhouses. They ignored them and dashed up to their positions, ultimately James taking cover in the natural foxhole of a partial opening to a basement window a few feet below sidewalk level, facing the Nederstrasse. Another fireteam charged across the street, and as they did, disruptor fire erupted after them.
Explosions of mortar bombs rent the sky, his helmet's auto-polarization protecting his eyes as the line of detonations walked the street around the attackers and covered the final dash of the fireteam. They made it all right across the street, and promptly began pulse fire toward the Panzergrenadiers. From above his head one of the heavy pulse cannon opened fire and caught a Panzergrenadier repositioning as the mortar fire faded. Satisfyingly, the suited figured dropped as a hail of fire swept the street, converging on them from buildings on both sides.
Even so, these men had responded professionally to being attacked from two directions at once and were holding their own, positioning a rear-guard as most concentrated to continue driving forward at all. They simply behaved nothing at all like the recklessly brave but ill-disciplined IARO men, and altogether a great deal like actual SS troops, which just a few weeks ago James had been fighting. He didn't like that at all.
"Condenser, this is Bikie." His Company commander was a dyed in the wool Rhode Island swamp yankee and grew up playing with steam tractors with her dad. It showed. Fortunately, she was clever enough to be quick on the uptake. His explanation was as blunt as it could be. "These aren't IARO cunts. They're Real Deal SS."
"Roger that, Bikie. We're getting multiple reports, and…" The rest of the sentence dissolved as James was bodily thrown back into the building hard enough for his armour to chip and unseat bricks. The explosion partially collapsed the hole as his armour padding compressed to minimise damage from the compression blow in the back and the hardshell rejected the concrete fragments in front.
A group of Panzergrenadiers from the rearguard stormed straight toward him, laying down their own covering fire with their suit-attached micro missile launchers, visible through the acrid smoke and clouds of concrete dust. There was only one pulse gun firing from his position back at them, and that meant nothing good, as he overcame the shock to his senses and opened fire with his own to augment it. The commo chirped, the message coming from the corporal leading the heavy weapons section in the building right above. "El-Tee, evacuate straight into the basement, we're gonna put down a line of grenades on 'em when they hit your position!"
That was insane, but he had only seconds and otherwise the SS had him dead by rights. "Fall back through the windows!" He shouted, and Private Marriss got on it, kicking them in. But Corporal Tucker was clearly never moving again and Specialist Anderson was twitching in the side of the pit. He lunged for the man, and dragging him by his feet, hauled him into the basement. As he did, one of the SS panzergrenadiers came through the window and the battered wall.
The moment that the attacker did, the world outside exploded as a hurled bundle of zip-tied grenades exploded in unison into the midst of the SS attack and the fireteam across the street raked the very position he had been in seconds before. The SS man inside the basement with him rose to his feet despite the blast, the building having partially shielded him.
There were only seconds, less than seconds, and James formed a hardlight blade from his omnitool and lunged, going for the close-quarters drill with a pistol in the other hand. The blade skittered across the armour until it caught a joint as he fired the pistol again and again, energy bursts pumping into the armour of the Panzergrenadier. They toppled back into the wall, but then a power-reinforced mailed gauntlet sent him flying away, slamming into someone's pile of old boxes.
But the SS man was missing an arm, and as he turned one of his suit weapons toward James, Private Marriss' rifle barked again and again. Gouges and chunks were torn into the armour at close-range on the max power setting for the rifle, and finally the SS trooper toppled down. A dim kind of calm prevailed, even as the roar of combat echoed unendingly outside. They were, for the moment, alive.
On the bridge of the Huáscar, the reports from Fei'nur had steadily become more abbreviated as the situation developed. Finally, she came back on the channel. "Captain, do you have a squadron orbiting with small-diameter bombs?"
"Yes, Colonel, we do have air support we can use in the city with minimal collateral."
"Thank you, Captain. We need to deconflict this situation urgently. The primary target of the SS was not our forces, it was the Confederal Provisional Government and party offices and officers of the Bulgarian National Council. They were aiming for a decapitation strike on the Council, not a coup de main against us. The Panteri have deployed to assist us and are also involved in heavy combat with the SS, but there is no coordination."
"Colonel, are you asking for permission to directly coordinate with the BNC and the Panteri officers to engage the SS stay-behinds?"
"Yes, Captain. It is the best course of action."
"And Brigadier Peacham's opinion?"
"Captain, I do not believe that man is suitable to make the best decisions for protecting our forces and defeating the enemy in these circumstances."
Zhen'var flashed her fangs. That was a serious condemnation from Fei'nur, but hardly surprising in the context of what had happened during the IARO attacks. For affirmation, she shot a look to Will, who nodded simply. "She's the woman on the ground, Captain."
"Permission granted, reach out to Alferov at once."
"Thank you, Captain." The channel blinked off.
"There will be consequences," Zhen'var remarked as Elia quickly went to work handling fire support requests. It didn't take long for the consequences to materialise, either. Brigadier Peacham contacted her on a priority channel.
"Captain, I understand you have authorized collaboration with the Bulgarian National Council?"
"Absolutely, Brigadier," Zhen'var answered calmly. "It was necessary in the circumstances to restore order, and I might add that your troops have also been very badly pressed. Surely you must have seen the necessity of this."
"Captain, the Turians are arriving within the hour. We could have held on long enough to hand the situation over to them. You have now immeasurably complicated that process."
"Brigadier, my first interest remains to preservation of life and defeat of the enemy. We were not fighting the IARO, but Nazis. My action is correct and I am content with it."
"Correct, Captain?" He glared. "You are a Captain and I am the ranking allied officer and Governor."
"That is… Incorrect." Zhen'var folded her hands. "I am a Battlemaster as an allied officer. While a Brigadier in the Alliance military may rank me, a Brigadier in another associated military manifestly does not, and I was not placed under your operational command."
"Very well, Battlemaster. You are the one who will give an accounting to your superiours for your decision to harm the conditions of occupation for the Turian Hierarcy. Do you think you have the right to order me to follow this course of action as well, then?"
"I believe I have the right as one officer to another to recommend to you in the strongest terms possible that you cooperate militarily with the Confederal Government," Zhen'var answered. "Indeed, it will be I, not you, who answer for this course of action. Keep your men alive, Brigadier."
"Very Well." The channel blinked out without the usual pleasantries.
Growling, Zhen'var got up from her command chair. "Will, you have the conn. Let me know when the Turians reach orbit." With that, she disappeared into her ready room.
She did not have to wait long, musing as she worked on reports and drank chai on why the SS had attacked at what was really the worst time for them. Perhaps they thought that the Confederal government meant they had lost their chance. Regardless, it had nicely completed the work that she had started with Will, Elia and Abebech. Sometimes one shouldn't look gift horses in the mouth, but it left Zhen'var with a naggling feeling.
Ninety minutes in, Will called her from the bridge. "Captain, the Turian General is hailing us."
"Thank you, Will." She sat down her more cup after emptying it, and without bothering to sign the last form, stepped out and back onto the bridge. They were still at modified stations, and she took her time to get settled into her command chair. "On-screen."
The image flashed into existence, showing a brilliantly armoured Turian with a group of more around him on the flagbridge of his cruiser. "This is the Tarallus, General Keranus commanding. Captain Zhen'var, I have arrived on the behest of my government to seize, administer, and annex the planet Drachenfeldt for the Turian Hegemony. You are hereby directed to have your troops on the surface prepare landing positions for my troops and to take measures to secure the civilian population until we can assume responsibility for the maintenance of regular order."
It seemed like every eye on the bridge of the Huáscar turned toward her. Notwithstanding her command style, this was one call Zhen'var alone had to make. She settled back, and for a moment was silent.