Chapter Seventeen: There Are No Neutrals There

Arc Five: Rebirth

Opening: "Sometimes the brave man" - ROOT FIVE

The men and women lined the hills at the foot of Fuji, forming human barriers and walls of fury and flesh in a long front, stretched across the steppes and bluffs of the lower sections of the mountain. Each worker looked forward, down towards Tokyo with grim, dirty faces, none worked up, but all in quiet anticipation of the standoff to come. They stood together, blocking entry to the mines littering the underface of the ancient mountain, a united front of workers occupying the surface on the day that brought Area Elevens Sakuradite export to nil.

They were joined in heart, spirit and deed by Japanese strikers across the islands, from factory workers tossing down their tools and blockading the entrances in the south, to foresters in Hokkaido, who set aside their equipment to recognise the Provisional Government. But, as ever, Fuji towered in the middle of it all, containing a mass of the dispossessed and tired, waiting since before dawn to be finally recognised by the sun's Eastern face, and the eager eyes of the world, curious where its fuel went.

Of course, an effort that occupied such a vast amount of the native population required vast infrastructure, immense organisation and a steady, guiding hand to see it through with shipments of food, Yen, and most importantly, cycles of men to man the front lines and swap out the tired to allow them to rest and recuperate. It was in itself a factory, with ravenous inputs and almost indeterminable outputs. As such, the Provisional Government had its hands full with calls and transports, as the ghetto became awash with hurry and activity, hired hands bringing news in and MRE's imported from Chinese Arms Dealers out and back up to the mountain. The bank was waterlogged with people, transactions trickling through as the machine Yuaikai developed creaked into life.

The Government itself had occupied a building, two stories tall and very wide, allowing the organisers and plotters to work without collectively dying out for the claustrophobia. They met in the top floor, around a series of desks arranged in a messy circle, sheets of paper and paraphernalia littering the free space. By noon, the entire new Government had met for the first time, and went about organising roles and responsibilities.

"Kaname Ohgi, you will be responsible for our armed affairs as Minister for Defence. It will be your duty to organise a group to act as a defending Militia, and train them with the Knightmare Frames we have provided, to be deployed at the acting Prime Minister's command. All those in favour raise your arm."

The twenty or so men and three women in the room who had been selected as Representatives all raised their hands silently, as Lelouch, Minister for Finance and Deputy Prime Minister, feigned counting the votes.

"Twenty… five in favour, zero in opposition, one not present. Motion passes."

This was their first meeting, and it had gone surprisingly smoothly for being such an informal affair. The first Government was not elected, selected instead based on the advice of the local leaders. Ideally, elections would be held as soon as possible however it simply was not viable at this time. For now, they had to organise the Cabinet, and deal with the strikers on the ground.

Lelouch looked into his papers, running through the nominations as he read out "Next item on the agenda-"

"May the Repr'sentative from Saitama int'rject?"

Surprised at the interruption, Lelouch's eyes rolled upwards towards the wiry man with wild hair and an unignorable tic, bemusedly responding "Our friend from Saitama is recognised."

The man stood, tugging at his newly hewn suit as he took an aside glance towards Lelouch, who noting the disdain, silently circled his name on his list. Hayate Nokame. He briefly considered if his disdain was racial, however he brushed the idea off. Nothing would likely come of this, for now, but it was best to know the room for the future. After a moment he spoke.

"Why, I thank you, Deputy Prime Minist'r, however I must inquire for the good of procedure as to the where'bouts of your senior, Prime Minist'r Kururugi?"

Taking a private moment to smile inwardly at the irony of the phrase 'Prime Minister Kururugi', he replied, seemingly unflapped, "I'm afraid he is indisposed, forming a preliminary agreement with the Six Houses of Kyoto and the formal Home Rule Parliament. If we obtain their support, and I suspect we will, we will obtain vast amounts of political capital, as well as potentially an acting Senate. We are all going to be very busy over these next few days. I would hesitate to hold it against you if your duties demanded that you were elsewhere. Will that be all?"

Thoroughly humbled, the marked Representative sat down and with the mood of the room restored to Lelouch's liking, as he proceeded along.

There was, of course, a second reason as to why Suzaku was otherwise engaged at this present time. Lelouch had long determined that while Suzaku, for reasons he had once explained to Jeremiah, would make a far more effective Prime Minister than he, however at this critical time that called for decisive action there was little time for Suzaku's faux-principality that bordered on grandstanding. For instance, if Suzaku were present he would have likely filibustered the formation of Ohgi's Armed Forces as being against the pacifist spirit of the Republic, in turn holding up other bills that simply needed to be passed. It would not be viable to have him present, and so Lelouch had 'remembered' the urgent need to contact Kyoto for political assistance.

Either way, the rest of the meeting went smoothly, nominating Ministers and passing Bills to authorise spending on items such as food, to get the system up and running, at least legislatively. It took two hours to conclude, as while the items up for voting were so unobjectionable to not merit significant debate, there was simply a flood of items to address. Still, they were out early in the day, as the various Members of Parliament went about their assigned duties, Lelouch staying behind to scribble into his twelfth ledger, which now formed a neat stack in his bedroom, scowling at the infetismely small digits, not even noting Ohgi staying behind as well until the elder Minister for Defence shook his shoulder, sending him into a fit of shakes.

After recovering, Lelouch chuckled slightly, slamming the notebook shut with the closure of his dominant hand before standing. "Did you need something?"

"Given we're both heading off to the bank, I was wondering if you'd care to join me?"

Lelouch smiled, replying with what might send Milly Ashford into a fit if she heard, "I thought you'd never ask."

Lelouch stood to join his friend as the last few chairs were folded away, pocketing the ledger and walking alongside him down the narrow stairs, asking in front as they walked in single file "Any news from our runners on the strikers?", asking about the men and women ferrying food and news between the ghetto and the mountain.

"Nothing we both haven't heard…" came the breathless reply from the Defence Minister as he pushed out into the clogged street, filled with people hurrying about their assigned duties as the pair crossed the dense street to the bank, sliding through brief gaps in the human quicksand.

The bank was full as well, extra guards having been pulled in at the cost of a few Yen an hour to protect the newly hired Tellers. The noise of chatter and mirth was almost unbearable, as the two Ministers wrestled their way to the side of the desk, seeking the manager, who let them through the desk and up to the second floor, a mass of records that doubled as Lelouch's living space.

"Can I help you sirs?" the old, portly man asked as Lelouch reclined next to the northern window, resting towards the mountain. After a moment, Lelouch replied "Two items. Ohgi has authorisation to withdraw on behalf of the Government, and I'd appreciate a projected budget towards the next taxation day."

The man nodded and headed back downstairs to fetch the details, as Lelouch turned back to face the mountain. He was incredibly anxious. They had an income of sorts, a combination of Bonds, rudimentary taxes and the sale of waste to the Chinese Federation, but they were burning through cash to fund this strike. The relevant forms were brought up, and the pair worked in silence to reduce waste, as the day wore on, the inevitable question lurking in their minds before Ohgi finally spoke.

"What are they waiting for?"

Lelouch put his pen down, and drowned out the window, replying "I'm not sure… perhaps the crowds were bigger than anticipated."

"There's a thought…" Ohgi responded lethargically, bending over to look through the porthole window as Lelouch wondered how things were going. After a moment, Ohgi continued "When they do arrive-"

"I can promise what I suspect you are asking about will not happen."

"With Cornelia marshalling the Military Police?"

Lelouch considered this briefly, before delivering what he knew to be an unsatisfactory answer in "Yes and No."

Rolling his eyes, Ohgi replied "Come on."

After spending a moment framing the idea in his head, Lelouch explained what he meant in slow, deliberate words and lots of meandering hand waving with "I don't believe she has any issues cutting down protesters, as such, and given her not insignificant racism I don't doubt that if this strike existed in a sort of vacuum that she, in all likelihood would, but there's the snag; there are other factors at play."

"What factors?"

"The Black Knights."

The last reply came from a new voice that drew both men away from the small window and towards the stairs, where Suzaku stood in his best suit and most professional stature.

"P.M Kururugi, the Younger." Lelouch sardonically introduced, before chuckling and continuing "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Just off the phone with Kyoto." Suzaku said, sounding mighty pleased with himself for having built the Bridge to Nowhere. Not that he knew that in the strictest sense, and so Lelouch permitted his blissful ignorance with "So what's the story?"

"While the official Kyoto line is that we're just common criminals, off the record the Six Houses were tripping over themselves to give us recognition. As politicians themselves, I think they're grateful someone's fighting on their front."

"Aside from a ringing endorsement, what else did they offer?"

Suzaku shrugged. "Not a great deal. Not that there's much they can actually offer beyond moral support and perhaps a good word with the few Japanese not already onboard. I was hoping they'd do our legitimacy some good, but that seems a bit redundant in hindsight. We're hardly looking for legitimacy from the top, now are we?"

Admiring Suzaku's constant ability to shoulder blame, Lelouch, out of friendly instinct, moved to verbally comfort his friend, replying "I'm sure it'll prove handy to have them onboard. Once the Britannians siege the strikers, having men of their stature onside could be invaluable for smuggling."

"I suppose so."

Lelouch reflected on the irony of Suzaku and himself swapping positions so rapidly, before Ohgi interrupted "You said the Black Knights?"

Lelouch frowned, trying to recall the train of thought that had led them to the topic Ohgi was raising, before remembering. What would stop Cornelia from shooting the strikers? It was not an unreasonable concern, especially for the Minister of Defence, however there was a simple external factor, and Suzaku was absolutely correct in identifying it.

"I did." Suzaku said, reclaiming his charge. "Lelouch and I talked about this the other day, and while he holds a more cynical view of what Cornelia would do in isolation, the Black Knights would be quick to capitalise on any violence that would erupt at the mountain. Be in no doubt that the Black Knights are monitoring the situation with their trigger fingers at the ready."

The Finance Minister took up the baton, commenting "The Black Knights can never attack until the Britannians do, otherwise they'd be seen as against the striking workers, hence a General with any sense would hold fire to avoid the fight from ever happening, that's point one. If there's anyone the Britannians hate more than us, and would go out of their way to reduce in power, it would be Zero, hence they won't allow him to seize the opportunity to overtake us."

Lelouch took a moment to pause and run his fingers through his hair, before continuing "Point two, even if they don't care about giving Zero a supposed mandate, the army in this scenario would be sitting ducks at the foot of a mountain. You don't have to have read the Art of War to know how that's going to go. Even if they survive the initial skirmish, an otherwise innocent striker being shot would surely spark an actual rising, squeezing us and any other moderates out and creating a wave they couldn't stop. Shooting the strikers can only make this worse for them and better for Zero for reasons beyond the control of either party."

As Suzaku gave him a side glance, unsure how deliberate Lelouch's reference to the Art of War was and what it meant, Ohgi scratched his head, and thought aloud "Let's bear in mind that Britannia might not necessarily want to promote moderates. While I agree that is what would likely happen if they shot a striker, does Cornelia know that? She buys into her own nonsense of racial superiority, she probably thinks she could take the Black Knights on their terms."

Lelouch nodded, tapping his desk with a lengthy forefinger. "That's the key element that concerns me, that being the irrationality of their top brass. Still, I cling to the idea there is someone with a few brain cells to rub together up in Britannian command. I think she'll attempt to starve them out."

Suzaku nodded in turn, concluding "And we've planned for that."

Lelouch sighed, and mused aloud "It's almost a shame all the strikers are up there. If they all left, we could watch our two biggest opponents destroy each other with no negative consequences."

"We can only dream." Ohgi quietly agreed, as the three men looked briefly once more through the window, before splitting off. Suzaku left to organise another shipment of supplies down to strikers at the docks, and Ohgi returned to his desk in the far corner of the room to try and see who he could draft for his new Armed Forces. Meanwhile, Lelouch silently scowled at the omnipresent mountain, in anxious anticipation for the faraway showdown, growing increasingly impatient as the day ticked towards 2 o'clock.

Where the hell were they?

It was another twenty minutes before Lelouch's internal query was answered, as his initial hypothesis was proven accurate; the Britannians in charge of managing the crowds, particularly the beleaguered Gilbert G.P Guilford, had significantly underestimated the mass of bodies that littered the mountain face. Fearing humiliation at bringing up a single Battalion in the face of tens of thousands of men to somehow 'manage' them, he withdrew to seek reinforcements. It took the slender, normally calm man hours to summon almost a whole Division to envelop the southern flank of the mountain.

The Knight himself was beginning to grow a few cracks in his patient armour, as communications and intelligence was proven sporadic and often inaccurate, as even in spite of their forewarning of the event, the military coordination was a mess, with Knightmare companies taking forever and a day to fuel up and mobilise, an indictment of the state of the bureaucracy.

Granted, as Cornelia had explained to him while he was waiting, it wasn't the fault of the military logistics officers in its entirety. The Sakuradite market was still fragile, and their supplies were still tender before the strike, which sent waves through their ability to fuel their Frames. While he couldn't blame them, it still frustrated him, a frustration emphasised by his hot, cramped Knightmare Frame, a personal adaptation of the Sutherland fitted for his dimensions that yet managed to still feel too small, the A pillars pressing at his cheeks and B pillars crushing his shoulders.

Removing his glasses to wipe at his wet forehead where the sun seemed to bleach, he screwed his eyes as he peered through the thick rectangular window laden with armour that made awkward maneuvering. He was leading the Division up towards the mountain, through the narrow road towards the vast mine entrance that normally hosted malnourished mine workers and that really wasn't built to hold large armoured vehicles, and so they had to move in single file. He felt vulnerable, as if an enemy might come out at any moment. Zero in particular worried him, as they crept up towards the strike.

However, no such strike originated as they moved towards the clearings that marked a No Man's Land of sorts, before the lines and lines of Workers, standing, sitting, crouching, and generally loitering in opposition of His Majesty. It was a bizarre sight, so ordinary and unbecoming for such a supposedly highbrow protest. The moral high ground, held by scummy unclean workers. He would have chuckled if he could spare the oxygen.

As his unit pulled up behind him, he took a moment to pop open his cabin, and prop himself up into the open air by his elbows, breathing in the June air and clearing his lungs as he got a better look at the breadth of the people present, taking in the sight of the cyborg mountain, half stone and half steel. Guilford had always disliked the landscaping for being a massive eyesore worthy of the Elephant of Bastille, yet he now briefly considered having to work here, something he doubted he'd ever have had to do if the strike hadn't happened.

"Poor sods..." he grumbled. The air here wasn't much better, and he opened his canister of water to soak the heat, before settling back into his seat, leaving his top hatch open as he took in the initial reporting.

None of his troops had been engaged, and while some entertained a verbal assault from a distance, none of the protesters fought either as a perimeter was established. More importantly, no alternate forces had appeared yet, such as Black Knights, or JLF remnants who might hope to capitalise. It was worth remembering there might be some crossover between workers and Black Knights sympathisers in spite of said groups apparently disliking each other, and so he remained on his guard, even as he sighed in relief that nobody had been caught off guard. He spooled down his Knightmares drive as he lounged, trying to survey the mood of the crowd. It certainly wasn't happy, but it was more grim than angry. It seemed ready for a long, drawn out wait.

Satisfied the crowd was passive for the time being, he hooked his microphone up to the central base and got in contact with Cornelia, whose face appeared in the top half of his thick glassy screen, complete with disappointed frown and steely eyes.

"Your Highness." he greeted with the utmost reverence, only to be met with her typical straightforward nature, as she asked "What's the current status?"

Sighing as he tugged at the edge of his spectacles, he replied "All's quiet. They're obviously not moving, but they're not really doing much of anything."

"Then clear them out."

Being patient, he replied "Ma'am, it's not so simple. Not only is it an unarmed crowd, but it's highly public. We'd have a riot."

Cornelia, looking markedly disappointed, responded "Are you saying you can't handle that? I want them back working, by any means necessary. Fire on one of them, that will scare most of them off. They know their betters."

Guilford sat back, before responding "M… ma'am, Princess, even as your Knight I must protest. This is not-"

"Guilford, this is an order from a superior officer. Show them what happens when they get uppity."

This was not a marked departure for Cornelia, who angrily ended the call, leaving her Knight alone. On the one hand, perhaps some would be discouraged. Guilford was nobody's moderate, and was well aware of his own views, which were not lenient on the Japanese as a people. He also was nobody's pacifist, having been alongside Cornelia in laying waste to North Africa and the Mediterranean Islands, and had been in Central Command for the purges of Saitama.

The microphone was next to him, and it crackled into life, with a Major asking "Orders sir?"

Guilford looked up, and that was his mistake.

He looked, and did not see violence. He saw some anger, disgruntlement, but restrained, like a sheathed sword. They carried their anger with grace, staring across No Man's Land with hate tempered by eternal patience and an ultimate desire for peace.

He had barely thought them capable of it.

This would be the end, he realised, the genie was out of the bottle. In this cold, empty moment, free of the pressures of a real battle, came the opportunity to see if he really believed in his country's ideas independent of other factors. A Control test, to put it scientifically. But now, he bit at the Apple, and he knew it would never be the same as he realised the Control proved the assumption false.

They carried themselves like the proudest Britannians. And that memory could not be undone.

Defeated, he reached for his microphone, and whispered "Do not fire. Maintain a loose perimeter, you do not have permission to engage."

With that, he hurled his device across the narrow cockpit in frustration, thunking harmlessly off the armoured glass before settling in his footwell, causing him to visibly huff. It wasn't just this new realisation that he couldn't sic Knightmares on people that annoyed him, it was the weakness that was implied from the fact that it only hit him once he was on the front lines. It made him feel isolated, like a child wandering where he shouldn't be. At least, he knew that would be how it was perceived, and perception led to his second key issue.

Cornelia would be rid of him comically quickly. His Princess, whom he had pledged fealty to without reserve, would break their contract and toss him aside. He would be in disgrace. He had yet to resign hope, though he could see plenty of other resignations in the near future.

But he was okay. This hill seemed fine enough to die on.

Indeed it does Gilly, indeed it does. The strike has begun, and the first reactions have been expressed. While the second half of this Chapter served to forward Guilford's own minor character arc, it also served as a microcosm, in the same way General Upson did back in Chapter 9, of the mindset of the Officers on the front line, who are all realising that shooting civilians outside the heat of battle makes you feel a little terrible. They promised to defend the country, and Cornelia is about to realise the meaning of 'to the letter'. Beyond that, most of what will happen can be implied or guessed at, because this disagreement isn't going to end well for anyone.

On the topic of developments, we are seeing more beginnings of divisions between Suzaku and Lelouch, in Lelouch's indirect removal of Suzaku from the room, among other things. In spite of this, the First Government has had their first meeting, codifying their spending and their efforts, with a greater and greater infrastructure of people performing tasks on their behalf. It has grown from three men on a school campus to a community, with a functioning government and currency, operating like a moderately oiled machine.

Speaking of moderately oiled machines, I'll be having the next Chapter up shortly, and I hope you'll read it, being Chapter 18 of For Hearts And Minds, The Trouble With Knights. See you then, and in the meantime don't kill striking workers, and rate and review!

~Eth0