Three hours later, the control room had been cleared, and Deirdre waited
on her throne for the Council to arrive. Her army had driven back the
Spartans who had tried to flee the armies of the other factions, and her
Guard had led a successful counter-attack against Santiago and the Death
Patrol. They celebrated how they had saved their leader from death, yet
they had failed to capture Santiago.
Deirdre wished she could feel some sort of elation at her victory, but to her, what should have been a wondrous emotion was merely a cruel chill emptiness of any feeling. The Council had arrived, but their endless conniving and intriguing had allowed her second most beautiful city to be ground into virtual dust. She was infused with hatred so potent that sitting their, her knuckles whitened with the pressure with which she gripped the arms of her throne.
"Lady, the Council has arrived. Will you permit them entrance?"
Deirdre shifted on her seat, and sighed. "They shall enter."
The doors swung open, and the Council strode in. Brother Lal strode in at the front, wearing a perfect white robe with his blue turban. He bowed, and spoke, his voice quiet and unassuming:
"Greetings, Lady Deirdre. I bring the power of the Council to aid the beleaguered Gaian faction."
Deirdre smiled patronisingly. "Of course, Lal. But you see, your aid comes to late! For weeks I have waited, and my faction has fought against foreign aggression, and now, when you have nothing to lose, you choose to 'aid' me."
Sister Miriam walked past Lal, and even sitting a good three metres from her, Deirdre could sense the charisma and almost crackling force of her will. Miriam made the sign of the cross, and then said:
"May God bless your courage, Lady Deirdre. My followers heard your words, and acknowledged the sacrifice of your people. Our chapels offered their communion for your cause, and now I offer you the aid of my faction in restoring this city to its true guise. New Glasgow had always been a near Eden on Planet, which, once again we humans destroyed. Allow me to make amends for our venial sin, by restoring Eden."
Deirdre nodded graciously. "Bold words, Miriam. However, in Genesis, when Eden was lost, it was impossible to regain. New Glasgow has been ruined, and never again shall our groves receive the tender care of my people."
Morgan laughed from his position behind Lal, and Yang of the Hive sniggered.
Deirdre raised an eyebrow at Morgan. "Forgive me, Morgan. I failed to notice you. Yes, maybe it was because Santiago is not offering you her special services."
Morgan reddened with anger. "My lady, there was no involvement between my faction and Santiago's, I assure you." He murmured to himself, "Trust the Gaian whore to worry about plants."
Deirdre stood. "When Morgan has learnt some of the art of diplomacy, then we can talk. Now forgive me, ladies and gentlemen, I am quite busy. Leave me."
Lal frowned. "My lady, I am sure Morgan did not mean what he said. Please, we must speak with you."
Deirdre laughed bitterly. "As you talked with me when I needed your help, Lal?"
He blushed. "I was wrong, Deirdre, and I realise that now. The Council was reconvened last week, at a request from Provost Zakharov. His skilful talking has saved you, my lady. You owe him a large debt."
Deirdre glanced at Zakharov. "I thought you had betrayed me, Zakharov." She began to weep. "I held the city for four weeks. Four! My people. Hundreds of thousands of them have been killed! We did everything we could to stop her, Provost, and you never came." She paused, and then faced them all. "None of you ever came, damn you! And now you arrive, offering me pointless compensation for mistakes you made? What is the point? Why should I listen to any of you?"
Lal stepped forward. "Lady, we were wrong, and we have admitted it. We offer you generous compensation. Thirty thousand energy credits shall be given to you, as shall large enough supplies of minerals to rebuild this city. In addition, the Council has undertaken military action against Santiago of the Spartans. Sixty percent of all plunder shall be given to the Gaians, as shall the Spartan bases of Sparta Command, Bunker 118 and Freehold Keep."
Deirdre's mouth tightened. "Do you think all that means anything to me? I have seen my friends killed, my people butchered, and my city has been crushed. Nothing can replace my friends, Lal, nothing!"
He sighed. "Nevertheless, my lady. The terms remain the same. Our forces are here, ready to strike at Santiago." A smile touched his lips: "Your forces are also mobilised, lady, and have been outfitted by the Council. The Council shall meet any costs this war means for the Gaians. We do not expect you to repay us, lady. This is our way of an apology."
Deirdre sat. They were indeed generous terms. The faces of Lindly and Marco seemed to float in the air in front of her, and she sighed. They were gone forever, she would mourn, and then move on. Her faction would remain on Planet forever, she must see to their future.
"I accept your apologies."
Evening fell over New Glasgow, and the Gaians celebrated their victory. The weapons of the Spartans had been taken over by the State, but the bodies and clothes of their enemy had not been.
Seized by a desire for vengeance greater than they had received, the Gaians burned the corpses and clothing, creating a huge pyre that rose into the sky about thirty metres above the city. The heat generated by the fire was so hot that Deirdre could feel it from where she watched on her balcony.
Today was the day when she said goodbye. She would bid farewell to Lindly, Marco and all her loyal followers. Today she would bury her dead, and would announce a Vendetta upon Colonel Santiago. Her faction had been given the responsibility of capturing Bunker 118, supported by forces from the University.
It would not be easy. Bunker 118 had been fortified from the start, and was Santiago's second base. All facilities within the city were geared for war. Part of Deirdre was afraid, the other part eager.
"A sad night, is it not, my lady?"
Deirdre turned, and noticed Zakharov. He was wearing deep black robes, in respect for the Gaians who died. She nodded. "Aye, Provost. A sad night for New Glasgow."
Zakharov moved to stand beside her: "It is a sad night for all, Deirdre. I, feel ashamed."
Deirdre turned away. "Why is that, Provost?"
"I failed you."
She shook her head. "No, you did not."
Zakharov breathed in deeply. "Yes, lady. I failed you. You held the city, and for longer than required. Far longer, but my bumbling slowness cost you greatly. I tried to get the Council to see sense. Lal puts it to finely. It was touch and go for a moment whether they aided you. Miriam and Morgan were both voting against military aid for you. Yang was following their example. Lal would have done, if I had not convinced him otherwise. With your vote obvious, and Santiago's also clear, the motion would have failed." He smiled. "I convinced Yang to change his mind, and, as Lal had a casting vote, the Council decided to send aid."
Deirdre shook her head. "Could you not have sent your own armies?"
Zakharov closed his eyes, and hunched over. "Santiago attacked my holdings viciously as well, lady. Her air force blasted University Base, killing many of my people. I would have been here earlier had it not been for her vile strike."
Deirdre knew Zakharov would not have betrayed her. She smiled. "By Miriam's God, Zak. You are too good to me. By rights I should be dead now, but you.how can I ever repay you?"
Zakharov shrugged. "It is of no matter, my lady. I can't stand Santiago, and you have always been a good friend."
Deirdre couldn't help herself. Ignoring all thoughts of protocol and decency, she clasped her arms around Zakharov, beginning to cry. All the pain of the past weeks erupted, and she sobbed and bawled. Zakharov stood mute, and waited until she had stopped crying.
The day broke fresh above New Glasgow, and the reinforcements from her cities arrayed themselves for battle. The few hundred Gaians left alive after the fighting in the city formed their own unit, named the Spartan's Death. The other faction leaders had provided professional battle trainers for the unit, and Deirdre estimated that by the time the army reached Bunker 118, they would be able to match anything Santiago attacked with.
Standing once again on the balcony of her tower, Deirdre looked down at her army. It was huge. Never before had the Gaian militia been assembled for war, and now it seemed that a sea of green was standing still to here the words of the leader.
"My Gaians! Yesterday we won a great victory, against impossible odds! Now we go on to avenge our suffering! Santiago shall know our wrath, and we will bring down her strongholds around her ears! No peace, no quarter, and no mercy!"
The answering shouts of approval could have shaken the tower. All the faction leaders nodded approvingly, bur Deirdre couldn't care less about them. Any leader except Zakharov had already proved that they were worth nothing. Deirdre offered Zakharov her arm, and entered her tower.
In two weeks they would leave to attack Santiago. The two weeks would be long enough to ready her forces properly for war, allow her to construct replacement planes, and to upgrade her ships to the designs they had captured from a Spartan naval officer.
Deirdre smiled to herself. Santiago would soon die.
Deirdre wished she could feel some sort of elation at her victory, but to her, what should have been a wondrous emotion was merely a cruel chill emptiness of any feeling. The Council had arrived, but their endless conniving and intriguing had allowed her second most beautiful city to be ground into virtual dust. She was infused with hatred so potent that sitting their, her knuckles whitened with the pressure with which she gripped the arms of her throne.
"Lady, the Council has arrived. Will you permit them entrance?"
Deirdre shifted on her seat, and sighed. "They shall enter."
The doors swung open, and the Council strode in. Brother Lal strode in at the front, wearing a perfect white robe with his blue turban. He bowed, and spoke, his voice quiet and unassuming:
"Greetings, Lady Deirdre. I bring the power of the Council to aid the beleaguered Gaian faction."
Deirdre smiled patronisingly. "Of course, Lal. But you see, your aid comes to late! For weeks I have waited, and my faction has fought against foreign aggression, and now, when you have nothing to lose, you choose to 'aid' me."
Sister Miriam walked past Lal, and even sitting a good three metres from her, Deirdre could sense the charisma and almost crackling force of her will. Miriam made the sign of the cross, and then said:
"May God bless your courage, Lady Deirdre. My followers heard your words, and acknowledged the sacrifice of your people. Our chapels offered their communion for your cause, and now I offer you the aid of my faction in restoring this city to its true guise. New Glasgow had always been a near Eden on Planet, which, once again we humans destroyed. Allow me to make amends for our venial sin, by restoring Eden."
Deirdre nodded graciously. "Bold words, Miriam. However, in Genesis, when Eden was lost, it was impossible to regain. New Glasgow has been ruined, and never again shall our groves receive the tender care of my people."
Morgan laughed from his position behind Lal, and Yang of the Hive sniggered.
Deirdre raised an eyebrow at Morgan. "Forgive me, Morgan. I failed to notice you. Yes, maybe it was because Santiago is not offering you her special services."
Morgan reddened with anger. "My lady, there was no involvement between my faction and Santiago's, I assure you." He murmured to himself, "Trust the Gaian whore to worry about plants."
Deirdre stood. "When Morgan has learnt some of the art of diplomacy, then we can talk. Now forgive me, ladies and gentlemen, I am quite busy. Leave me."
Lal frowned. "My lady, I am sure Morgan did not mean what he said. Please, we must speak with you."
Deirdre laughed bitterly. "As you talked with me when I needed your help, Lal?"
He blushed. "I was wrong, Deirdre, and I realise that now. The Council was reconvened last week, at a request from Provost Zakharov. His skilful talking has saved you, my lady. You owe him a large debt."
Deirdre glanced at Zakharov. "I thought you had betrayed me, Zakharov." She began to weep. "I held the city for four weeks. Four! My people. Hundreds of thousands of them have been killed! We did everything we could to stop her, Provost, and you never came." She paused, and then faced them all. "None of you ever came, damn you! And now you arrive, offering me pointless compensation for mistakes you made? What is the point? Why should I listen to any of you?"
Lal stepped forward. "Lady, we were wrong, and we have admitted it. We offer you generous compensation. Thirty thousand energy credits shall be given to you, as shall large enough supplies of minerals to rebuild this city. In addition, the Council has undertaken military action against Santiago of the Spartans. Sixty percent of all plunder shall be given to the Gaians, as shall the Spartan bases of Sparta Command, Bunker 118 and Freehold Keep."
Deirdre's mouth tightened. "Do you think all that means anything to me? I have seen my friends killed, my people butchered, and my city has been crushed. Nothing can replace my friends, Lal, nothing!"
He sighed. "Nevertheless, my lady. The terms remain the same. Our forces are here, ready to strike at Santiago." A smile touched his lips: "Your forces are also mobilised, lady, and have been outfitted by the Council. The Council shall meet any costs this war means for the Gaians. We do not expect you to repay us, lady. This is our way of an apology."
Deirdre sat. They were indeed generous terms. The faces of Lindly and Marco seemed to float in the air in front of her, and she sighed. They were gone forever, she would mourn, and then move on. Her faction would remain on Planet forever, she must see to their future.
"I accept your apologies."
Evening fell over New Glasgow, and the Gaians celebrated their victory. The weapons of the Spartans had been taken over by the State, but the bodies and clothes of their enemy had not been.
Seized by a desire for vengeance greater than they had received, the Gaians burned the corpses and clothing, creating a huge pyre that rose into the sky about thirty metres above the city. The heat generated by the fire was so hot that Deirdre could feel it from where she watched on her balcony.
Today was the day when she said goodbye. She would bid farewell to Lindly, Marco and all her loyal followers. Today she would bury her dead, and would announce a Vendetta upon Colonel Santiago. Her faction had been given the responsibility of capturing Bunker 118, supported by forces from the University.
It would not be easy. Bunker 118 had been fortified from the start, and was Santiago's second base. All facilities within the city were geared for war. Part of Deirdre was afraid, the other part eager.
"A sad night, is it not, my lady?"
Deirdre turned, and noticed Zakharov. He was wearing deep black robes, in respect for the Gaians who died. She nodded. "Aye, Provost. A sad night for New Glasgow."
Zakharov moved to stand beside her: "It is a sad night for all, Deirdre. I, feel ashamed."
Deirdre turned away. "Why is that, Provost?"
"I failed you."
She shook her head. "No, you did not."
Zakharov breathed in deeply. "Yes, lady. I failed you. You held the city, and for longer than required. Far longer, but my bumbling slowness cost you greatly. I tried to get the Council to see sense. Lal puts it to finely. It was touch and go for a moment whether they aided you. Miriam and Morgan were both voting against military aid for you. Yang was following their example. Lal would have done, if I had not convinced him otherwise. With your vote obvious, and Santiago's also clear, the motion would have failed." He smiled. "I convinced Yang to change his mind, and, as Lal had a casting vote, the Council decided to send aid."
Deirdre shook her head. "Could you not have sent your own armies?"
Zakharov closed his eyes, and hunched over. "Santiago attacked my holdings viciously as well, lady. Her air force blasted University Base, killing many of my people. I would have been here earlier had it not been for her vile strike."
Deirdre knew Zakharov would not have betrayed her. She smiled. "By Miriam's God, Zak. You are too good to me. By rights I should be dead now, but you.how can I ever repay you?"
Zakharov shrugged. "It is of no matter, my lady. I can't stand Santiago, and you have always been a good friend."
Deirdre couldn't help herself. Ignoring all thoughts of protocol and decency, she clasped her arms around Zakharov, beginning to cry. All the pain of the past weeks erupted, and she sobbed and bawled. Zakharov stood mute, and waited until she had stopped crying.
The day broke fresh above New Glasgow, and the reinforcements from her cities arrayed themselves for battle. The few hundred Gaians left alive after the fighting in the city formed their own unit, named the Spartan's Death. The other faction leaders had provided professional battle trainers for the unit, and Deirdre estimated that by the time the army reached Bunker 118, they would be able to match anything Santiago attacked with.
Standing once again on the balcony of her tower, Deirdre looked down at her army. It was huge. Never before had the Gaian militia been assembled for war, and now it seemed that a sea of green was standing still to here the words of the leader.
"My Gaians! Yesterday we won a great victory, against impossible odds! Now we go on to avenge our suffering! Santiago shall know our wrath, and we will bring down her strongholds around her ears! No peace, no quarter, and no mercy!"
The answering shouts of approval could have shaken the tower. All the faction leaders nodded approvingly, bur Deirdre couldn't care less about them. Any leader except Zakharov had already proved that they were worth nothing. Deirdre offered Zakharov her arm, and entered her tower.
In two weeks they would leave to attack Santiago. The two weeks would be long enough to ready her forces properly for war, allow her to construct replacement planes, and to upgrade her ships to the designs they had captured from a Spartan naval officer.
Deirdre smiled to herself. Santiago would soon die.
