Chapter 09: Brewing Storms

Blue Moon's Commander Grit stood alone before an open fire, one lanky arm resting on the mantelpiece and the other keeping his long brown overcoat away from the flames. His heavy lidded eyes were half closed, which was hardly unusual. Most of the time Grit affected a languid and carefree bearing. Some might even go so far as to dismiss him as lazy, but today he seemed almost like a different man. His posture was tense, like a spring wound tight and ready to snap, and his sharp gaze was restless with doubt. The fire was warm, but it brought no comfort. Not today.

Times were changing in Blue Moon.

Grit waited in a long, draughty dining room in the Frost Palace, where the military kept its headquarters. Decades ago the grand building had been the residence of the country's royal family. In those long gone days the dining hall might once have been the centrepiece of a magnificent banquet, or hosted a lavish party. Today, however, it was only an empty room whose opulent decor did little to disguise the impersonal coldness of the marble table standing at its centre. The great arched window at the end of the hall was open, and the air to Grit's back was chill. It was another reminder of the inexorable turn of the seasons.

That was Blue Moon for you, Grit reflected. It was a country of contradictions: lively and stoic, compassionate and unyielding, hot and cold. Sometimes he thought that the country felt more like home than anywhere else, while at others he felt like an outsider who could never truly understand it.

A creaking noise announced that someone else had entered the room. Why no one ever bothered to oil the door's tired hinges was a mystery to Grit, one he wondered about anew as he glanced over his shoulder to identify the new arrival.

She was a petite woman with neat black curls, dressed in plain blue military fatigues with special insignia at the collar. The only other sign of her station was an ornate duelling sabre sheathed at her belt. The woman's grey eyes glittered with wicked sharpness as they met Grit's gaze and held it like a scientist observing an experiment. It was not long before the corner of her lip curled in an amused smirk, apparently satisfied with what she had found.

"Commander Grit," she said with a nod of greeting.

"Yer Highness," he answered in a gruff voice.

The nickname was not kindly meant. The woman reminded Grit of an ice sculpture he had once seen, carved to resemble a princess out of some fairy tale. What inspired the nickname was the expression the sculpture had worn. Grit could still remember the statue's upturned nose and contemptuous lips, a vision of pure disdain. Whenever Ana looked at him, Grit saw only the same incredible arrogance and chill contempt he had felt emanating from the ice princess.

She moved around the table and seated herself next to the head. "You are not sitting?"

Her stare was inscrutable, her iron gaze laced with mistrust. Grit closed his eyes and turned away. Some things, at least, never changed.

"Ain't much call to be parkin' myself yet."

"As you wish."

With that the conversation was finished.

Grit's relationship with the intelligence agencies of Blue Moon – military and civilian alike – had always been uneasy. Even after years of mild social progress under General Olaf's leadership, paranoia and suspicion were still strongly ingrained in those who walked the halls of power. Truth remained malleable when it suited the state's purposes, and Grit's tendency to speak his mind and call out lies had made him as many enemies as friends.

Ana, the head of military intelligence, was very much one of the former. She had been watching him since the day he arrived in Blue Moon, always suspicious of his loyalties no matter how many battles he won. Thus far, his impressive record and his reputation as an honest and reliable man had kept him safe from any political reprisal, but of late Grit had begun to wonder how long his luck could hold. There was a cold storm brewing, and it brought with it whispers of change. Grit had never put down roots like others; he'd always made his way through life by blowing with the wind. Where that left him now he wasn't entirely sure.

The creaking door swung open again, and this time Grit broke out a wide smile when he saw the new arrivals. There were two of them, the young woman tall and the boy at her side short. Their ornate blue uniforms were clean and immaculate under the lamplight, the orange edging and golden buttons glinting like the dawn light.

"Well if it ain't Colin and Sasha," Grit exclaimed, striding over to meet them. His brows knit together as he looked down to meet Colin's wide eyes. "Reckon you've grown there, son."

"Commander Grit! It's so good to see you, sir. You really – you can really tell I'm taller? I mean, Sasha said I'd grown nearly half an inch, but I –" He broke off as his sister nudged him with her elbow.

"Colin, you don't need to share every thought with Commander Grit. I'm sure he has a lot on his mind at present."

Grit's attention shifted sideways to find Sasha staring him straight in the eye, but if there was more to her words than what they all already knew, he could find no sign of it.

"Suppose we've all got a lot on our minds," he muttered as they moved past him and sat down at the long table.

No one answered him. Perhaps they had not heard. Perhaps they did not want to hear.

Grit had no idea what Colin and Sasha thought of the rising tensions with Orange Star. For months they had been on an extended inspection of Blue Moon's forward outposts and frontier bases, and before that they had been stationed in Omega Land, overseeing the transition from a wartime footing to a peacetime one. After their time serving under Rachel in the last war Grit could hardly imagine they would support a conflict with Orange Star. Then again, he couldn't imagine either of them going against their country. They were young and open-minded, yes, and did not believe in the absolute authority of the state like many of the old guard, but their hearts were as blue as any.

Loyalty. As a known defector it was a quality that Grit was widely assumed to lack, and it had kept him excluded from many confidences in his new homeland. That had never particularly bothered him before. Grit was solitary by nature, and quite happy to be left alone in peace. It was only now that he found himself wishing he had done more to ingratiate himself to Blue Moon. Grit had always considered his unique position as an outsider to be an advantage, allowing him to see what others couldn't, but as the mood in the country shifted and people shared their plans only with those they trusted most, it had become a glaring liability.

He let out a quiet little sigh as he considered the problem. Was the difficult position he found himself in now merely a consequence of the way he'd acted? Had he been caught in a trap of his own making, or was he a victim of circumstances far beyond his control? Grit didn't know which possibility bothered him more.

With another short sigh he tried to put the questions from his mind. There was no sense in dwelling on them now. All that was left was to make the most of things. A look of determination revealed itself on Grit's face as he pivoted away from the fire and at last took his seat at the table. If nothing else, he was going to make himself heard.

He had seated himself directly opposite Ana, to the right of the table's head. It was a fitting place for him. Grit had been Olaf's right hand almost since the two of them had met, back before he'd decided to leave Orange Star. If that was no longer where he belonged, then the man he'd worked for all these years – the man he considered his friend – could at least damn well do him the courtesy of saying so.

Feeling rather satisfied with his newfound resolve, Grit swung back in his chair so that only two legs were touching the floor. The decorated wooden chair groaned beneath his weight, a burst of unwelcome sound in the silent hall. On the other side of the table, cold amusement flashed across Ana's face as she watched him rocking back and forth, while Colin and Sasha kept their eyes downcast and saw nothing at all.

Grit had just settled back with his hands clasped behind his head when the door was thrown open with such force it had no time to even creak, breaking his reverie. In its wake Olaf surged into the room like the north wind itself. Without a word he charged to the head of the table and sat down with a ragged sigh.

"Well?" He demanded, panting slightly. "What are you all waiting for?"

Ana's gaze flicked sideways. "Where do you wish to begin, General?"

"Where?" Olaf's eyes, small and bloodshot between his bushy eyebrows and bulbous nose, narrowed. "Where do you think? What are the latest reports coming out of Orange Star? What are they doing, how are they reacting? Give me everything!"

"The reports are consistent with what we already know, sir." Ana's face was an emotionless mask as she answered. "Orange Star continues to divert troops to the border in response to our exercises. Sources place COs Sami and Andy in command. Their forces are relatively small, but control the main routes into the country. I expect their intent is to fight a delaying action until reinforcements can arrive."

Olaf gave a single nod, his voluminous brown beard bobbing with the movement. "And their navy? Have they recalled any ships yet?"

"No, General," Ana replied, clasping her small hands together on the marble table. "Half of Orange Star's carrier battle groups are still stationed abroad. As for the remainder, most are deployed on their north coast opposite our own fleet. Only one is currently in their southern waters."

"Good." Olaf nodded again. "I know Nell; she won't risk starting a fight on even terms unless she has to, which means she won't force a naval engagement in the north. We can use that to our advantage."

Grit grunted and let his chair fall forward with a bang.

"So y'all are really thinking about diving down this rabbit hole," he said, unable to keep a sharp edge from his voice.

Ana looked up at him, the faintest curl visible at the edge of her lips. "Nothing is decided yet. We are only planning for all contingencies."

"And my grandma's a prize dairy cow," Grit shot back.

"Enough!" Olaf bellowed, leaping to his feet and slamming his hands down on the table. "What we are doing is absolutely necessary! Orange Star has insulted us for the last time. Those islands are ours by right, and so is the oil beneath. That land was stolen from us only a few scant years ago. Stolen! I will not stand for it, and Blue Moon will not stand for it! There will be no more appeasement. The time has come to take back all that is rightfully ours."

He threw his chair back with a clatter and stamped over to the window, where he shoved his hands in his pockets and fixed all his attention on the square below. Even from behind, the effort he had put into the outburst was obvious. Olaf was not a thin man, and beneath his taut blue uniform his massive belly was heaving with exertion.

"And I suppose that little lady Orange Star's got stashed away somewhere has nothing to do with it?" Grit snapped.

The whole room froze. Colin and Sasha exchanged an uneasy glance, and even Ana's composure momentarily fell. All eyes turned to Olaf as they waited to see how he would react. It had been a rash thing to say, Grit knew, but he was in no mood to hold back.

When Olaf did respond, he did not shout or bluster. He only glanced at Grit, his eyes distant and strangely numb. It was the same look that had come over Olaf after the fight for his hometown was over.

"If that beast, that… that vile monster… is brought to justice for her crimes, then I shall consider it a bonus," Olaf growled.

Grit did not reply. He could hear how strained Olaf's voice was, and he could see the pain in his eyes. It was cloaked by the numbness like water beneath the surface of a frozen lake, but it was there.

"There is another matter you ought to be aware of, General," Sasha said in a quiet voice. "Orange Star claims that Black Hole has returned. They have repeated their call for a summit meeting to discuss the matter."

"Fool!" Olaf grunted. "I already know that. They are nothing but cowardly lies, a transparent attempt to distract us from the real issues at hand. Such trickery doesn't deserve a response."

Sasha seemed to shrink as Olaf's anger was turned towards her. As Grit watched she visibly swallowed, apparently unable to speak. He felt a wave of pity for the girl. She didn't deserve such contempt, not when all she had done was deliver the message. Was this really what things had come to? Was the leader of Blue Moon reduced to lashing out at anyone who came remotely close to challenging his point of view? Olaf had always been difficult, but the man glowering by the window was far removed from the one who had won Grit's respect.

He shook his head. If no one else would stand up to Olaf, he would.

"Really, now?" Grit said in a raised voice. "From what I hear there's been a right ruckus, so much that Green Earth's decided to lend a hand. You might want to reassess that opinion of yours, boss."

"General, there have been sporadic attacks by Black Hole remnants ever since the Omega War ended," Ana interjected, a hard edge coming into her voice as she locked eyes with Grit. "A few isolated incidents in Orange Star are hardly cause for concern."

Olaf snorted his agreement. "If Nell thinks she can use Black Hole as a shield, she's mistaken."

Grit stared at the pair of them, incredulous. "Except that Green Earth wouldn't have gotten involved if these boys were just dusty ol' leftovers. Which means Orange Star ain't trying to sell you a barrel of snake oil now, are they?"

"Snake oil?" Olaf's head tilted slightly. "What are you blathering about, Grit?"

"You telling me that you really don't see the holes in what y'all are thinking?"

"I'm getting tired of your insolence," Olaf said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "If you can say nothing helpful to our plans then perhaps you should simply be silent!"

Grit had already opened his mouth to respond before realising that he was at a complete loss for words.

He was well used to being the object of Olaf's temper, but this was different. Worse, somehow. The man wasn't just angry, he was hurt, and his voice creaked with barely contained fury. Ever since the destruction of his hometown Olaf had been prowling about like a bear with an open wound, and this latest business with Lash was a great big helping of salt poured on top. There was no telling what he might do. Olaf was a bundle of raw emotion, poised to act without thinking. All that remained to be seen was how much damage he could do before he came to his senses. Grit shivered at the thought. Normally, he could keep a rein on Olaf's more destructive impulses, but this… Grit had never seen Olaf like this.

A crash echoed through the hall as a log collapsed in on itself in the fire. On the other side of the table Colin flinched. Grit looked back to the fireplace, but there was nothing left to see except a pit of white ash and charred wood.

"If Orange Star has positioned small forces in strategic positions, then we must ensure we can destroy them quickly," Olaf ruminated, beginning to pace about the end of the hall. "Gather all the troops we can spare and prepare to attack those positions. If we can overwhelm their defences and seize the main routes into Orange Star's heartland before reinforcements arrive, they'll be helpless to stop our advance." He nodded to himself. "Colin, my boy, I want you to take charge of the mobilisation."

"Yes, sir," Colin replied. "At once, sir."

The poor boy was white as a sheet, Grit noted.

"Sasha!" Olaf barked. "Where do the other countries stand? What of Green Earth and Yellow Comet? Will they intervene?"

Grit turned back just in time to see Sasha take a deep breath, her posture so rigid she looked ready to shatter. "I do not think so, General. Our withdrawal from the Allied Nations has come as a great… surprise. However, Yellow Comet's position remains clear. Emperor Kanbei refuses to fight a battle-forged friend, as he considers both Orange Star and Blue Moon. They will stay neutral."

Olaf nodded. "And Green Earth? Grit here seems to think they will side with Orange Star."

Sasha blinked. "Green Earth was devastated by the Second Great War. Far more so than any other country. I doubt they would be capable of fighting in a major conflict even if they wished to." She swallowed again, and for the first time looked up. "However, there are other countries to consider. Two months ago, the United Galaxy requested to join the Allied Nations. There is a chance they will side against us."

"Purple Galaxy?" A long, deep laugh burst forth from Olaf's belly. "Nothing more than the scraps of a dead empire. They can't hope to challenge our might. So long as the other great powers do not intervene, victory will be ours."

"That's if we go to war, boss," Grit said. "If."

"Yes, yes, of course," Olaf said with a wave of his hand. "Good. Continue all preparations, and make sure all is ready if-" he paused to cast a furious glare at Grit – "we go to war."

Olaf rushed from the dining hall just as he had entered. The meeting, such as it had been, was over. Like a man waking from a daze Grit got to his feet and followed the others out.

"Colin, you mind hitching yourself up a sec?" He called out.

Colin turned about, startled and staring with wide eyes and tightened lips. In the shadows left between the tarnished sconces he waited for Grit, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Commander Grit, sir, what is it?"

"Pipe it down, little partner," Grit muttered with a glance to the far end of the hallway, where Sasha and Ana stood watching. "Let's take a walk."

He put an arm around Colin's shoulder and steered him in the opposite direction. The boy blinked in confusion, but made no effort to break away as they began to stroll down the gallery.

The burgundy carpet before them was clean and well kept, and the walls were strewn with fine paintings in richly carved frames. Blue Moon was an austere country by most standards, but those in charge seemed to revel in ostentatious displays of wealth and power. It was a trait that Grit had always found mildly distasteful; today, as portrait after portrait of great leaders and generals cast their disapproving eyes down at him, he found it downright disgusting.

"Commander Grit… what's this about?"

Grit looked from one side to the other, checking to make sure they were alone. "Well, I reckon there's a few folks 'round here with mighty big ears, and I don't much feel like being overheard."

Colin said nothing. The boy was nervous enough at the best of times, and Grit knew what he was about to say would only make matters worse. The last thing Grit wanted was to rattle Colin further, but he couldn't stay silent and walk away. Not this time. He made sure to keep his tone gentle, but it was all he could do.

"What do you say you and me go try to talk His Beardedness down off of that ledge's he's standing on? 'Less of course you want a war with Orange Star."

"No!" Colin blurted out, a sudden flash of emotion breaking across his face. "No. But…"

"But?"

"We can't go against Commander Olaf." A look of consternation planted itself on Colin's round face. "We can't betray him like that. We – I – owe him everything."

Grit nodded as he considered that. After another step, he released his grip on Colin's shoulder and stepped in front of him so he could look his fellow CO directly in the eye.

"Loyalty's a fine thing, don't get me wrong, but sometimes… sometimes it's important to stand up to the folks you admire most. Sometimes that's true loyalty, you hear me?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

Grit paused as he saw the apprehension in Colin's eyes. He couldn't tell if Colin genuinely didn't understand what he meant, or if the boy was simply desperate to avoid facing the hard truth. Neither possibility was particularly reassuring. Grit sighed and tried to explain.

"Thing is, Colin, the big man ain't infallible; he makes mistakes just like the rest of us. Fact is he usually makes great stinkers, 'cause Olaf can't do anything small." Grit's eyes softened. "It's times like that you need a loyal friend to help you see the truth."

"So you think Commander Olaf is wrong," Colin said quietly.

"It don't much matter what I think," Grit said. "You're a sharp one, son… surely you can take a gander at this mess and see how wrong it all is. Orange Star ain't our enemy."

"If they'd just negotiate…" Colin trailed off, his attention darting about as he became more agitated. "It shouldn't have to be this way. And if Black Hole was back, we'd know!" He looked puzzled and lost now. "We'd have to."

Grit hesitated. He knew full well that Blue Moon was capable of twisting – if not outright ignoring – the truth, but Colin was young and idealistic. He still believed in his country with every fibre of his being, and in that moment, faced with the prospect of shattering that belief, Grit's resolve faltered. From what he could see, the need to maintain his devotion to Blue Moon was already tearing Colin apart.

For the second time that day Grit found himself at a complete loss for words.

"I- I should go," Colin stammered after a brief and uncomfortable silence. "I'm sorry, sir."

With that he was gone, rushing back the way they had come. For a while Grit watched him retreating, his thin face stony and cold. He'd tried. It hadn't been enough, but at least he'd tried. Grit shivered again as a draught pushed through the palace, and slipped his hands into his pockets. Times were changing in Blue Moon, and all that was solid seemed to be melting into air. Even the people he'd once thought he could count on were no longer what they had seemed.

Grit turned and began to walk the shadowed corridor alone. For the time being he would wait, and see how events unfolded. There was little else left he could do.