Chapter 15: Gear Down

Ichijima

Ellie could feel the panic welling up in her gut as she said the words, but now that they were out, there was no taking them back.

Across the room, Greta's eyes were locked on her, but she said nothing. "You're Ellie!" A woman with red hair exclaimed. "The Monarch defender of Italica, I've heard so much about—"

"You don't have to do this," Hector interrupted. "Ellie, if this is because of the crash—"

"This isn't because of the crash," Ellie said. "It's because this is something that I need to do. For myself, if not for everyone else."

She took a deep breath and continued, "I've… had time to think about it, and ever since the fight over Italica, I've been wasting time, just wandering around, hoping that some guide of what to do next would just show up, but it's been there the whole time. I started this whole thing because I wanted to know what the Night Triangle was, what it took to get up there, and what it might be like to see the world from a place like that. Dangerous or not, the only way that's going to happen is from the pilot chair of Greta's spaceplane.

"Am I scared? Yes. I'll be honest. I'm terrified. But if I let that hold me back, I'm going to be trapped here forever. Not just on this island, but in that way of thinking. That's why I've got to go. I've had enough of feeling stuck."

No one said anything for a few moments, then Greta stood and said, "There's other ways to get over that fear. I'll be honest, I've tried my best to create a spaceship, and it still crashed. You may die. Do you still want to go?"

Ellie had not broken eye contact for the entire conversation, and answered. "I know why you crashed, and I'm willing to deal with it. I think it's worth it. Don't you?"

A smile crept slowly onto Greta's face and she turned to face Pina. "I think you've just won the war, Empress."

An American man Ellie hadn't seen before stepped away from the wall, unfolded his arms, and said, "I'm sorry, this is ludicrous. Pina, our agreement was—"

"Our agreement was that I would not command anyone on this island to do anything on the Empire's behalf," Pina pointed out. "I just mentioned the idea; Arpeggio and Greta came up with a solution on their own. Whether or not they wish to carry it out is entirely up to them."

"It doesn't matter, it violates the spirit of the agreement."

"I don't recall agreeing to any spirits? Or are you starting to dabble in necromancy?"

The American didn't seem to find this funny. "I'm not having you commandeer the people on this island for the sake of weapons technology—"

"But it's not weapons technology," Greta said, with a grin. "I think the term you used for it seven years ago was science experiment. Right?"

Hector stood and approached the man. "If these people think they could accomplish it, why not let them? After all, it would save a lot of lives."

The American's lip twitched.

"You know I'm right."

But the Clayton stood firm, folded his arms, and said nothing.

"I don't understand you people!" Hector shouted. "How can you Americans accept so much bloodshed without blinking an eye? You have the ability to end it all here and now, and yet—"

"Hector El Sava," the American spat, "Do you know who I am?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Ellie saw Kengun's eyes suddenly go wide, and his hand drift down towards his sidearm. Around the room, American and Japanese guards seemed to have caught on to something, and were also reaching for their weapons. Sensing the rising tension in the room, Arpeggio hugged her baby close to her chest while Flat glanced around wildly. On the other side of the table, Greta looked down, unable to meet anyone's eyes.

"I am Robert Clayton, former Secretary of Defense to President Dirrel," the American said. "I was the one who decided to use the bomb. I was the one who burned you and your men."

Rondel

Dr. Nguyen picked through the wreckage of the ruined observatory, surrounded by guards who were still reeling from the events of two nights prior. There was very little to find—what few machines had been in the lab had either been melted into slag by thermite, or had been scattered all over the side of the hill by plastic explosives. With a huff he bent down and picked up a large piece of plastic, which turned out to be the front cover of Shirai's laser printer, charred to a nasty, bubbled black, but recognizable through the tiny metal "Kamigumi" logo still affixed to one side.

"Shirai, you ass," he muttered to himself. Wanting to fight for one's country, he could understand. Deception, he could understand. To leave so much evidence… to make a show of the escape? That was just obnoxious.

"Anything of use?" Chairman Delsus asked from over his shoulder.

Nguyen shook his head and tossed the panel back on the ground. "Everything useful has been destroyed. The Special Forces team that did this was thorough, which has me worried. It means that they had a plan for this raid, and had practiced it before doing it for real."

"If their attack is over, why is this a bad thing?"

"Because if they did it once for this little observatory, then they might also be practicing on a mockup of your Council Building," Nguyen pointed out.

Delsus folded his arms. "I have no concern. We have the guarantee of a god on our side. Plans have only so much power in the face of the Divine."

"You still don't believe they'll use the Atom Bomb again?"

"You told me yourself that Godwrecker usage is against cultural taboos on Earth, and that their usage of it against Hardy was unprecedented. Besides," he added with a smirk, "Even that did not kill the Gods. No man can. If they do use it, it will mean trouble, but it will not guarantee defeat."

"That didn't help you much over Italica."

Delsus waved the idea away. "The Saderan army is still twelve days march from Rondel, and we are just starting to see success from experiments against your old organization's wireless devices and radio handsets. In five or six days the air fleet will be ready, and we will wipe General Grey Co Aldo and his men from the map."

"And the Japanese planes?"

"So many questions. Are you starting to have second thoughts?"

Nguyen sighed. "What we are trying to accomplish has never been done before, not even on Earth. In the past, it was always a western air force using electronic disruption against a weaker state. This time, it's us trying to use electronic warfare against a modern air force."

"Then enlighten me, how close are we, and why do you think this will work?"

"It's impossible to say with certainty, but we're heading in the right direction," Nguyen said. "The fact that your mages have gone from redirecting light to actively jamming walkie-talkies and Wi-Fi routers shows that they're capable of it, but the problem is that military radios and sensors operate on different frequencies than civilian ones… sorry if I seem like a pessimist to my own plan. That said, I do think this will work because the objective of the operation is to destroy the Saderan force, not shoot down the JASDF. Their fighter jets are built for computer-aided, missile-based combat versus other fighters moving at similar speeds, not dozens and dozens of smaller, slower aircraft in a guns-only fight. If what you've told me about the state of the Imperial Senate is true, then wiping out the Saderan ground force would be functionally the same as a death blow to Sadera itself. Pina would lose support for the war, and Rondel would be free to separate from the Empire."

The doctor picked up another object, a soot-covered sliver which, on closer inspection, turned out to be part of the telescope's refracting mirror. In it, he could see the barest reflection of himself. If he made it through this ordeal alive and got the prize he desired, would the people of Earth understand? Would they see the worldwide benefit, or would they lock him up or cast him out? Surely Shirai had already reported on his betrayal, so prison time was not entirely out of the question… but that was alright, just as it did not matter to him who won the oncoming battle.

As long as I get what I want, he thought, and tossed the mirror aside.

Ichijima

The room had started to clear out.

Pina had been directly requested to leave, and the others had gotten the message soon afterwards. The last of the natives to go was Ellie, who Greta pushed along with her one good hand. She knew what was about to happen, Clayton supposed.

He had been informed about Hector ten minutes after the database at Italica station flagged him as being from Carenth. A quick glance at his ID card picture immediately confirmed that he was a survivor of the nuclear blast. When McKann had asked Clayton for his opinion regarding allowing Hector onto Greta's project, he had approved immediately for three reasons; first, so that the one survivor of the bomb in Falmart wouldn't start spreading ideas about the bomb or causing civil disruption, second so that the Navy medics could pin down the effects of serious or prolonged radiation on magic users, and third… so that their chances of running into each other would be near-zero. Clayton rarely visited Ichijima, and if it weren't for Pina, he would never have walked into the same room as the man who was now standing across from him.

If everything had gone according to plan, they wouldn't be talking now either. In Clayton's head, Greta and Pina were supposed to make up, coo over Arpeggio's baby for a few minutes, then retreat to their respective lives. After that, Japan and America would be called upon to mop up Rondel after Pina's army was slaughtered, and the fine people at Boeing, Mitsubishi, and Lockheed Martin would earn their paychecks for the year. Instead, everything had been overturned by the Pentagon's greatest fear: an unknown. Focus Crystal samples had arrived at Brookhaven National Laboratory in New York 48 hours after the first ones appeared in shops at Alnus, yet the chemists there were confounded by what, at first study, appeared to be nothing more than oversized amethyst shards. Furthermore, their newness meant that mages already under observation by the United States would shrug when asked to explain how one worked; it was like asking most Americans to explain an internet communication protocol. In the years since, Focus Crystals had been down-prioritized in favor of more important projects, like ADMIT FUSCHIA. As such, no one could have guessed that there was a way to effectively weaponize them.

Of course, now that Clayton knew how, he'd pass the information along to DARPA, but that wasn't the point. The point was that the conversation was supposed to end with him walking out of the room without ever talking to Hector, and not having to acknowledge the moral quandary that had been eating away at him since the meeting at Yokosuka. Instead, the warrior-magician from Carenth had him pinned, and Clayton, unable to stand it any longer, had placed the ball firmly in Hector's court. The mage would decide how he wanted the conversation to go.

Hector hadn't said a single word as the room emptied out. Some DSS guards remained, but the conference room was otherwise empty. Now functionally alone, Clayton said, "Well?"

The mage's face twitched, he tensed up, and said, "Sit down."

"What?"

"Sit down and shut up or I swear I will rip your jaw out and beat you to death with it."

The security agents already had their weapons drawn, so Clayton didn't care much for the threats. He could have pushed the matter, but he wasn't in the mood, so he circled around the conference table and sat down.

Hector took the seat directly across from him, and Clayton began to suspect the real reason for the request. With the table between them, it would be harder for them to go to blows. As a magician, Clayton supposed that Hector could still attack him at range… but the armed guards around the room would make short work of him if he tried.

Ultimately, Hector's next sentence was the one that Clayton feared most, yet the only one he'd been expecting to hear. "Why?"

In response, Clayton spat out the same thing he'd rehearsed a dozen times before delivering to President-Elect Mahana in the last week of Dirrel's administration. "Use of the nuclear weapon in the Special Region was prompted by two main points—the need to dispose of the weapon, and the need to strike back at the gods for the action on Alnus Hill. Ancillary to this, we had intercepted a message regarding an invasion fleet from Carenth—"

"Stop," Hector spat. "Again. No diplomatic language."

Clayton balled one fist on the table, took a deep breath and started again. "We wanted to remove the threat from Carenth, and we happened to have a weapon lying around that could do that as a secondary objective. So we did."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"And you knew what it would do?"

"Generally. It was twenty years since we'd ever tested one. Fifty years since we'd used one aboveground. Seventy years since we'd used them in combat. First time we ever used an ICBM to do it."

"You knew what would happen to our bodies if you struck us with that thing."

"We missed on purpose."

Hector's eyes narrowed.

"We targeted a place miles away from your fleet," Clayton said. "If we had targeted King Selecus directly, you would have been annihilated."

"We were annihilated."

Clayton shook his head. "You don't understand. If we had hit directly, the bay would be gone."

"You mean all of the men—"

"No, the bay," Clayton pressed, his voice low. "The entire goddamn bay would have been pulverized into glass and sand. There wouldn't have been anything left of you to find."

Hector's lip twitched again and he looked away for a moment… but just a moment. "You didn't answer my statement. You knew what would happen to us."

Clayton nodded.

"So, why?"

The ambassador raised an eyebrow. "Are you looking for a moral answer?"

"I s-"

"BECAUSE IT'S FUCKING WAR!" Clayton was on his feet again, a dull throbbing in his hand from the palm that he hadn't even realized he'd slammed down on the table. "What were you expecting from me? Some villain monologue? Fuck that! There's nothing moral about committing to killing other people!"

One of the DSS agents coughed and Clayton caught himself. That was unprofessional he thought, but at the same time, he felt that he needed to say it. How else could he justify either of the two options America would take once Palapon attacked? "If you're looking for a satisfying 'why', you will never find it." he said. "At the end of the day, it was me, the President, and a call that had to be made. I'd tell you to imagine my position, but…" he shrugged. "You weren't there."

To his surprise, Hector seemed to deflate a little at that last phrase. "I wasn't there," he muttered, and raised a hand to the scarred side of his face, "and neither were you."

He sat like that for a moment, in thought, then said, "It is funny, I suppose. I have spent weeks chiding Ellie about her immaturity, but I think she figured it out faster than I did."

Clayton didn't know what to say, and watched one side of the mage's mouth curl upwards into a grin. "She caught me at the beginning too… wondering what I was waiting for, why I hadn't tried to move on or move forward. I envied her for that; how young people can make it look so simple to just pick up and change. And even when she struggled, she still managed to take my own words and throw them back in my face. I followed her, curious where she'd go with it, but never believed that it would succeed in leading me here."

Hector stood. "I suppose you're right," he said. "There is no good why to any of this…. Just how it affects what comes next."

"Does that mean you're going to kill me?" Clayton asked.

The mage shook his head. "That was the original plan, but there's not much point in it now, is there?"

"It might make you feel better."

"Neither of us were in the others shoes, and we both need to live with what we saw and did. I think that's enough." He reached a hand across the table.

Clayton did not take it.

"I was told that in your culture, a taking of hands is a sign of greetings, departures, and friendship?"

"I can't take it because I'm going to have to make the same choice again." Clayton said. "I have already been asked to decide between the atom bomb and another devastating option. How can I shake your hand and then proceed to do it all over again?"

Hector let his hand fall. "Then let me at least ask this," he said. "Of the options you have, is there one that will set this world free?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is there an option that will remove or reduce the ban on Earth technology?" Hector said. "I've seen your mechanical wonders in Italica and Alnus and here on this island… there's so much good that could come from it. If… if one of your choices is the weapon that can let the wonders of our world and your world coexist, as they do in Greta's spaceplane, I want you to use that. If there must be that much destruction, something good ought to come out of it."

This time, Clayton sat back down. He recalled all of Secretary Barton's warning about ADMIT FUSCHIA, but could it fulfil Hector's request? With a device like that, it wouldn't matter what technology the Special Region obtained, nor would it matter if China or Russia or non-state actors obtained magic of their own.

But would they all be willing to accept that world?

Perhaps there never would be a permanent peace, but maybe Hector had a point. Any peace, even a strained one, ought to be leveraged while it lasted.

"I'll take it into consideration," he said. "Tell Greta that she has America's blessing on her… 'science project'."

Hector nodded, turned, and headed for the door, but was stopped as Clayton shouted after him, 'And Hector?"

The mage looked back over his shoulder.

"Come back in one piece, and we'll decide then if my hand's still worth shaking."

Author's note

My sincerest apologies if this seemed like a dull chapter. In compensation, I promise lots of action and cool weapons in the next two. See you there!