June 13

Galbadia Joint Command Center, Galbadia City
20:44 MDT

Although Galbadia had been embroiled in warfare ever since its independence, its military efforts had rarely been coordinated from the republic's capital city, when they had been coordinated at all. Therefore, the nation's military headquarters was still quite new, located along with the president's office in what was left of the old Dollet governor's mansion. The number of offices and personnel it encompassed grew every few weeks as the Galbadian Militia was consolidated and reorganized into the Galbadian Army.

Indeed, Caraway had been there three times in the past two weeks, and each time there was a new addition on the directory — which was, tellingly, a dry-erase board with departments labeled in color-coded marker. This time, there was an entirely new block marked out in blue, which encompassed the three rooms still standing from the building's south wing. "What's that?" he asked the captain who had met him at the gate.

The captain frowned at the diagram. "Those will be the offices for the Naval Command, sir."

Caraway blinked. "We have a navy now?"

"The president's going to convert a few of Cargo and Mail's ships for military use, and transfer the Maritime Corps from the Army Command," said the captain. Then he pointed down the least damaged hallway in the area. "This way, sir."

They started walking. Even half-destroyed, the building retained a considerable amount of its grandeur; Caraway regretted the current plan to demolish it entirely as soon as a new Presidential Residence and Executive Building were built.

"You heard the latest, sir?" asked the captain. "There's a petition from Winhill to change the name of the republic."

Caraway blinked. "Why?"

"They feel the name 'Galbadia' is parochial. Doesn't give enough consideration to the southern regions."

"More than a third of the national population lives in Galbadia City alone," said Caraway.

"That may be what bothers them, sir." The soldier shrugged. "I didn't say it made sense."

They stepped through the heavy double doors that led into the planning center, which had been one of the mansion's dining rooms but now sported the largest concentration of whiteboards anywhere in the complex. A dozen or so Galbadian officers in dress uniform were present, as was Deling; he had traded his own uniform for a business suit.

"Mr. President," Caraway saluted.

"At ease, Colonel," Deling said, as the captain excused himself. Although it had been two weeks since his promotion, Caraway's mind still took a beat to verify that the president had been referring to him. "Let's begin."

They all sat around the elegant dining table that was now mostly hidden by official military files. Deling nodded to two other officers who sat flanking Caraway at the foot of the table. "Colonel Caraway, this is Colonel Brand and Lieutenant Colonel Naraka, both of whom you may already know. The three of you commanded what, in my judgment, were the three most successful Timber-area units during the war; that is the reason you are all here now. I've met with each of you individually over the past few weeks, and I'm sure you've all wondered what I was driving at. Now you'll know."

He nodded to General Hargess, leader of the military's Intelligence Command. The General cleared his throat and nodded to one of the files that had been distributed around the table. "In the blue file, you'll find an assessment of Timber's Sixty-second Congress," he said, "and the impact of its policies on Timber as a whole. The nature of the results is not particularly surprising; however, their gravity is." He paused for effect. "It's a well-known fact that the new congress wishes to privatize Timber's railroad system, and that the move is highly controversial within Timber. Organized labor is protesting fiercely, but we believe the Congress has the votes to proceed."

"I should just impress what a disaster this would be for Galbadia," said the aide who had invited Caraway to Deling City in the first place, but whose name he still didn't know. "Timber isn't only the physical hub for every major railroad line on the continent; the Timber Rail Administration is the sole owner of the trains as well. The cost and availability of rail service is entirely dependent on Timber."

"And so far, Timber has agreed to provide Galbadian citizens low-cost access to the rail system in gratitude for our military presence," said Hargess. "But with our military presence ended, it's unlikely the Congress will continue that policy either — and the matter will be moot if Timber's rail system is privatized."

Deling nodded. "In short, the arrangements we inherited from the Dollet era have left most of our infrastructure for internal transportation owned and operated by a foreign power. Timber's railroads are Galbadia's lifeline. We must ensure that line is not cut."

"Begging your pardon, Mr. President," said Caraway, "but I don't understand the purpose of this meeting. This seems to be a political concern."

"And indeed it would be," said Deling. "But you haven't heard everything yet."

Hargess jumped back in again. "Now if you'll turn your attention to the red file, you'll see an assessment of domestic tensions within Timber. The national unions command considerable influence, and are vehemently opposed to privatization. There is a growing public sentiment that the government has been usurped by wealthy interests who suffered little during the war and have a mind only for profit without concern for those less fortunate. Absent dramatic action by the Congress to redress this problem – and none appears forthcoming – our assessment is that the strife will erupt into full-scale insurrection."

Caraway blinked. "...That's incredible. I had no idea the tensions ran so deep."

"President Quisman has been a leading opponent of the Congress' agenda," said Deling, "and for this very reason. He fears a mass uprising, if the Congress approves privatization, which it is expected to do this week." He leaned forward. "That is where the military comes in. We're currently drawing up plans for a Galbadian intervention in the event that Timber's military is overwhelmed and our assistance is required. You three are familiar with the area and have fought alongside Timber's forces before; it will be your task to coordinate the operation."

"Mr. President, I'm afraid I still don't quite understand," Caraway said. "Has a request been made for a return of Galbadian forces to Timber?"

"At the moment, such a deployment would only inflame the hard-line elements that hold sway in Congress," said Hargess. "However, President Quisman has privately expressed that he would wish Galbadian troops to help stabilize his country, should it come to that."

"Timber's army is perfectly capable of handling any domestic strife," said Caraway. "Many of our soldiers were trained by them."

"The level of unrest may be quite extensive," said Deling. "Timber's army has strong ties to the unions; it may not support the government. For that reason, you are to assume for the purposes of planning that some or all of Timber's military will be hostile to our forces."

"In other words," said Caraway, "you want us to draw up invasion plans."

Deling looked at him cooly. "It is not invasion to help a friend. Now — the three of you will have joint command of this expeditionary force, so approach the matter with that in mind. An outline for a potential deployment has already been prepared by our staff here; I expect full evaluations from each you within the next 48 hours." He stood, obligating all the soldiers to do so as well. "That will be all."

—

Republic Executive Hotel
21:09 MDT

As the spotlights dimmed and the guests dutifully applauded, the woman took a graceful step back from the microphone and made a slight bow. Julia was only partly conscious of all this, as the scene had been repeated so often in her presence that it was unnecessary to pay attention. Gathering her music together in a thin black folder, she stood and crossed the stage with measured grace to shake the hand of the singer. After that formality was completed, she turned and walked off towards the doorway that lay hidden in the shadows beyond the glare of the lights.

"That was Alyssa Feran, with Julia Heartilly on the piano. Our next performance..."

The voice faded as she closed the door behind her. Letting out a breath she unconsciously held in every time she went out on that stage, she walked across the backstage toward the exit.

The singer, a blond woman who was slightly taller than she, was doing the same, absently running a hand through her hair. "I swear, one day those lights are going to make me go bald," she complained.

Julia smiled. "Well, you did a wonderful job out there, Alyssa."

"Thanks. Oh, hey, what was with the sheet music? I can't even remember the last time you didn't have a piece memorized."

She shrugged, as the two started towards the dressing room. "I've just been a little preoccupied lately, and I didn't want to embarrass both of us on stage."

"You can play Angel Wing while Dollet's mortars are bursting outside, but you're afraid you'll forget your music because you're a little preoccupied?" The other woman shook her head. "Something must really be wrong."

Julia sighed. "It's just getting so frustrating." They stepped into the dressing room. "I don't even know how long I've been trying to write lyrics, but I can't think of a single song. I can compose the music fine, but whenever I try to put words to it, my mind just goes blank."

Alyssa nodded understandingly. "I'm sorry. You might just want to begin by singing other people's work, just to get yourself started."

Julia shook her head. "I couldn't do that. I mean, I know a lot of people get started that way, but it just seems wrong."

"Well, then the only advice I can give you is to just write about what you know. When you get the right topic, it all just comes together." Alyssa produced a washcloth, running it under a faucet for a moment before applying it to her makeup.

Julia did the same. "Maybe that's it," she said. "I've always wanted to sing, but I never really knew why. It's not just that I can't put my thoughts into words. I don't even know what my thoughts are."

"Well, that can be good," said Alyssa. "It means you haven't reached your potential. You're already a terrific composer; when the words do start coming, you'll have people asking where you've been all their lives."

"Oh, stop it," Julia said good-naturedly. "If anything, it means I'm too scatterbrained to focus long enough to frame an idea. I mean, I can't imagine how you can sing the way you do. One day, you're singing about finding love, the next, losing your love, and all with such passion. When I think about everything you've gone through with Kivan, I don't know how you can sort anything out of that."

Alyssa reached for a towel. "Well, Kivan...is in Dollet," she said as she dried off her face. "So I can just remember the things about him I want to remember. For example, if I'm singing a song about finding love, I can remember how wonderful our first year or so was, and if I'm singing about lost love, I can add that it's all over now." She smiled. "I just leave out these last two years, and I'm fine. How do I look?"

Julia looked at her friend. Short locks of wet hair framed her face, which was not entirely free of makeup just yet. "Horrible."

"Perfect." Alyssa reached for her coat. "They say if you go out without spending half an hour making yourself look beautiful, no one will recognize you. So, can I buy you dinner?"

"Should you?" Julia asked. "I mean, with Kivan gone, and they've cut you back to the ten-minute sessions..."

"Julia, stop worrying about everything," said Alyssa. "I have plenty of money, and Dobbs has me working two other bars now, and I'm not collecting all that savings so I can sit in that big empty house and feel sorry for myself. Now come on — I'm a poor estranged wife all alone in the big city, are you really going to deny me a night on the town?"

Julia nodded. "All right. If you really want to buy me dinner that badly, I suppose I shouldn't complain."

Alyssa nodded triumphantly. "My goodness, Julia, was that a joke? There might be hope for you yet." She placed her hands on her hips. "Now if you would just learn to hurry up with that makeup..."

"Excuse me...Julia?" A young man poked his head through the door, before realizing an instant later what he was doing, and turning away with almost inhuman speed.

Both women laughed at this. "It's all right, Tim, it's me," Alyssa said. "I know I look hideous without my makeup on, but I promise I'm not about to mutate into a Gerogero or anything."

"What? Oh, no, you weren't...I mean, I didn't mean that...I mean, I wasn't...!" the young man stammered.

This propelled the two women into another bout of laughter. "What is it, Tim?" Julia said finally.

"Well, Bard wanted you to know that there was an opening on Wednesday nights for a regular performer, and he wanted to know if you'd be interested. Julia, I mean. Ahh...playing the piano, that is. Though if you wanted to do something else, that might be okay, but I thought he meant the piano. I could be wrong, though, since he never really said..."

"Julia, that's great!" Alyssa exclaimed. "Congratulations!"

"...you know, you're usually playing the piano, and he knows you're usually playing the piano, I just figured he meant—" the young man was continuing.

"Tell him I'd love to," Julia said. "And thank him for me, please?"

He nodded. "Right!" For a moment, he just stood there, staring at them. "Oh! So I'll...go do that, then."

"Thank you, Tim," Julia said.

"You're welcome! I mean, um...bye!" He hurried off down the hall.

Alyssa laughed. "He will never survive in this city."

"This is incredible!" Julia said. "I'll actually be playing solo! I can't believe it!"

"Hey, it was a long time coming," Alyssa said, smiling warmly. "Are you ready to go yet?"

Julia nodded. "Sure."

The two stepped back into the hall. "So, someone should probably tell your secret admirer," Alyssa said teasingly. "He was here again today; did you see him?"

"Mm-hmm. Right where he always is. His two friends were there too."

"How many times is this, anyway? Alyssa asked. "Four? Six?"

"I don't know," Julia admitted.

"Well, I'd be getting scared if I were you," Alyssa said. "Would you like to borrow my bodyguard?"

Julia shook her head. "I don't think he's going to hurt me. He can't even look me in the eyes. I think it's kind of sweet." She swung open the door to the back exit. "He has lovely eyes, have you noticed that?"

"Oh no, dear. You're starting to sound like you're falling for your stalker."

"He's not a stalker!" Julia defended. "He just likes to see me play." She paused for a moment as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. "You know, I think you're just jealous that you're not the one he can't take his eyes off of."

Alyssa raised her eyebrows. "Oh, my! We're on a roll tonight, aren't we?"

Julia laughed, in doing so neglecting to pay close attention as they rounded a turn in the sidewalk. As a result, she collided head-on with a man coming from the opposite direction. He looked to be in his late thirties, with a Galbadian flag uniform bearing what looked to be shining new Colonel's stars. After the impact, Julia jumped back a little too hard, nearly falling flat onto the sidewalk. She was saved, however, by the man's quick reflexes, and caught before her dignity took too much of a blow.

"I'm terribly sorry, ladies," the man said, helping Julia regain her balance.

Julia shook her head. "No, please, it was my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Well, then I should have been all the more careful," the man replied, smiling slightly. "Well, no harm done, I hope?"

"None at all," Julia said, sidestepping to clear the path in front of him. "Good night, sir."

"Ladies." The man nodded politely, and continued on his way.

Once he was out of earshot, Alyssa took her by the arm. "All right, Julia, that's it. Have you been sampling the drinks bar at the club a little early today?"

"Alyssa!"