Chapter 19 - Capability and Culpability

KABEI - INDONESIA

Kabei had disembarked from his ship with a tremendous amount of eagerness. Not only was he extremely excited about his upcoming project, but he also had not forgotten that the last time he was on a ship, it sank (and quite spectacularly, at that). With a self-interest in keeping his feet on the ground, Kabei was second in line behind a Chain of Four Sisters Rangers. As skilled survivalists, they were naturally the best pick to protect an underdeveloped stretch of jungle.

The island itself was as inviting as any had ever been to Kabei. Each presented its own ecological and geographical issues, and he had never backed down from a challenge. Of course, those previous challenges had come with a boss to oversee his work, and he was wildly unconfident in his own ability to live up to his mentor's abilities - but this was not going to stop him. A healthy respect for his own life prevented him from disobeying the Makuta when given a direct order.

As the crews set foot on dry land, Kabei immediately began plotting out where each group would be going, and shouting to direct them as best as his voice would allow.

"Anyone with either a seismic or geological sense, line up here. That includes non-Earth-or-Stone beings - Augafi are welcome, if you have experience mining. Slavemasters, if you could get your beings over there for now, you're going to begin distributing digging tools; there should be four containers on the Fortitude. Layamat, you all… do your thing… I guess…"

As he spoke, the various beings obeyed in a limited capacity, though he could see at least a handful of Layamat simply waiting around, leaning against trees, or striking up conversation. Kabei hoped they would come to respect him as the project underwent development, though he also feared that they may not have the greatest appreciation for architecture. Again, a nervous twinge struck Kabei as he wondered whether he was cut out for a leadership position.

This line of introspection was cut short with the timely arrival of yet another landing craft filled to the brim with slaves. Dumped out onto the shoreline, they were being corralled by groups of Manidi, Augafi, and Dahkini. Kabei watched the craft thump against the shore while its front doors opened. Out from within spilled dozens of beings, none of which Kabei had ever seen before, but whose reputation preceded them.

Kabei had heard rumors - whispers - that the beings of this world were unlike anything the Brotherhood had ever encountered. A race of purely organic beings, made of flesh and blood. They were supposedly smaller than a Toa, and the dominant species in this world. Kabei was curious to see what sort of tentacled monstrosities awaited him as his designated workers; while a portion of his laborers were members of Krika's slave corps, most were working on various projects on or around Target Main. As a result, apparently many slaves taken from nearby conquests were being transported directly to Kabei.

As the first of the beings stumbled out into the sunlight, Kabei was underwhelmed. His expectations for the so-called "Primitives" had been much higher. He had been hoping for shuffling horrors, or perhaps feral Rahi-like animals with stone weapons and scraps of cloth as armor. Instead, he got what appeared to be simply Matoran coated in a layer of meat. Some had a small crop of fur on the top of their head, while others had larger amounts, and they all wore filthy-looking cloth over most of their body. Each one was wildly different from the next both in physical appearance, but also in many other qualities. Some had flesh in different tones, most had fur in different colors (a very small portion of which having particularly bright and vibrant colors, while an equally-sized portion had none whatsoever), and each wore different cloth wraps. Although he could not read the words, many had text labels on their chest wrappings, which Kabei assumed were perhaps their names.

Kabei's second emotion, beyond being unimpressed, was a sense of pity. He found the beings somewhat pathetic, being shoved out of the ship, bruised, battered, and bleeding. Electric whips spurred them forward, and he could hear their pained cries as they marched onto land. Kabei considered them intensely frightened and weak, even compared to himself. With a frown, he looked away, trying to keep the sight of a Manidi bringing down a truncheon upon one slave out of his eyeline.

Though he turned his eyes away, his ears were not so lucky, and the pained cries of the slaves continued to follow him as he turned to his next task.

It took an entire day to find the best suited location. Kabei was very careful in his assessment of the region - he was looking for a number of qualities at once, and would not be satisfied unless he found all of them. The site for the city had to be both stable ground but also easily excavatable. It had to be easy enough to reach that he could move heavy machinery into the area, but also far inland enough that it didn't risk flooding. It needed to be close enough to the sea that a covert, underwater dock could be built - and all of this without the enemy noticing the construction.

As the sun went down over the first day of the project, Kabei and several dozen various Po- and Onu-Toa, Turaga, Matoran, and a small group of Augafi all set about taking readings of the area; marching across fields with an escort of Layamat, driving stakes into the ground and surveying the topography. As the dark started to settle in, Kabei continued to studiously peer through his surveying monocular. As he did so, a Ko-Turaga by the name of Morkai followed him, mapping the entire region. Each potential site was marked with an X, though Kabei had found no luck thus far.

"Shouldn't we head back, sir?" asked one of the trio of Layamat guards. Kabei had not been impressed by their performance thus far - they were rude, tended to stray from him and his party, and did not seem to take the job very seriously.

"No, it's still light enough. I can see what I'm doing."

"Yes, but we'll have to head back eventually, sir, and it'll be dark soon. You want to walk through the jungle at night?"

Kabei sighed as he continued squinting through his monocular. Perhaps the Layamat was right.

"I suppose -" he began, before his eye was drawn to a large valley. The foliage was light, and he could trace a gorge leading from the valley out towards the sea.

"Never mind that. I think this might be it," Kabei said, as he barreled through the undergrowth towards the basin.

With a sigh, the Layamat followed behind him along with the various surveyors, each of whom was beginning to share the same enthusiasm as Kabei was. Rushing down the hillside, Kabei came to a stop at the edge of the valley and immediately begin barking orders.

"Pomu, check the soil consistency. Bagra, Solix, start a core sample. Ondurok, start seismic readings. You there, hand him your Akaku. Morkai, how far are we from the coastline?"

The team ran about setting up their various tasks, while Kabei continued squinting through his monocular. Setting a memory crystal in a specially-made slot on the side, he took snapshots of the vista and stored them on the small shard. As he did so, a duo of Po-Matoran hammered stakes into the ground at precisely-measured intervals, while Kabei lined them up with notches in the side of his monocular.

"That's… two… two and a half… looks like two and as half Kio in length at most, though those hills over there look pretty stable…could probably push that to three without issue…" Kabei calculated internally. Naturally, the city would need an incredible amount of space, but the opening of the shaft where construction would take place only needed to be large enough to ferry supplies in and out of the pit.

"What do you think?" asked Kabei to the nearest Layamat. Glancing towards the soldier, he merely shrugged in response. Kabei sighed, looking back towards the valley. The surveyors each reported their findings to each other, and while he was too far away to hear anything detailed, he could read an atmosphere of excitement in their bodies.

"Can we go back yet?" questioned the Layamat, to which Kabei shook his head.

"Not a chance! We're starting tonight!"

Until the sun rose the next morning, the gorge leading towards the coast was filled with a column of slaves moving back and forth, bringing shovels and picks with them. To help facilitate the secrecy of the operation but smooth the passage, trees began being felled along the gorge. As the path cleared, carpenters were delivered the makings of a rudimentary sawmill, and began shaping them into supporting beams and columns for the shaft.

As the sun rose, the beginnings of the tunnel had formed nicely, at least as far as Kabei could assess. They were working at a stepped switch-backing ten-percent gradient, which was shallow enough to move heavy machinery up and down, but also saved enough space that it could arrive at the intended depth without also trailing off into the distance. A secondary tunnel was being constructed nearby, however, at a steeper thirty-percent gradient, which would be used exclusively for foot traffic, to alleviate the congestion on the main thoroughfare.

With some regularity, the slaves would dig into stone or boulders. Normally, these obstructions would be blown up, but Kabei knew that the sound and the smoke plumes would be too obvious, and additionally, the group was not quite ready yet to use blasting compound. Although Kabei knew they had a great deal of the material securely stored aboard the ships, he figured it would be better to hold onto until they got deeper and it was more practical. In the meantime, however, he set about any Skakdi or Toa of stone moving the boulders with telekinesis, or for the smaller ones, absorbing them entirely and then recreating them on the surface. Whenever possible (that is to say, when equipped with sufficiently-skilled Toa of Stone), Kabei would intentionally have them transmute the stones into limestone. In this manner, two large piles were forming: one of regular stone, and one of limestone. Kabei had no particular interest in the former beyond how to discreetly get rid of it, but the latter he had a special plan for that he would act upon as soon as possible.

Kabei had watched throughout the entire night as the group worked, digging the first layer of the main ramp, installing support pylons under the instruction of his engineers, and preparing a path to the ships floating offshore. So engrossed was he in the project that he only first recognized the passage in time when the sun began to rise. Squinting at it, a sudden yawn forced its way through his body.

Oh…wow…okay, maybe I should get some rest, he thought to himself, glancing towards the tunnel. It was coming along nicely, but it compelled him. He felt as if it was wrong to leave the project when it was so young and newly-fledged.

Watching the crew work, he saw one of the Primitives carrying buckets of earth out of the tunnel, dumping it at the exit. Kabei's stomach churned.

"No!" he shouted, rushing towards the Primitive, who looked up at him with palpable fear.

"The dirt goes over there!" Kabei shouted, pointing towards the edge of the treeline. "If you move it here then we just need to re-move it later, because it'll be weighing down on the tunnel mouth."

Kabei watched the being, who looked utterly terrified. Blinking, Kabei waited for them to respond, or even acknowledge his statement. Instead, they just waited in silence.

Ah, right, the language barrier, Kabei recalled, noting that none of the Primitives could understand him. He was lucky enough to have some staff who wore Raus, but they were not common enough to make the job easy. That will be a problem, he thought.

As his mind turned to the Rau, he could see one approaching him, attached to the face of an irate slavedriver.

"Oy! Is it bothering you, sir?" asked the slavedriver, charging their electro-baton. The Primitive's eyes widened in fear. Kabei could see the slavedriver's Kanohi activate as he spoke.

"I'll teach you a lesson, you little worm - five wallops for disturbing the boss!"

Kabei suddenly found himself standing between the two, with no knowledge of how he had gotten there. Still processing the move, he did not notice himself raising his hands.

"Woah, woah, woah! Steady there, that's not - I mean - it's not necessary. Just a misunderstanding," Kabei said nervously as the stupidity of jumping between an electro-baton and its target crossed his mind.

The slavedriver sneered.

"I wouldn't if I were you, sir."

"Wouldn't what?" Kabei asked, confused.

"They're vermin. If you go out of your way to take care of them, they'll just get used to the kindness, and it'll be that much harder to get them to do anything."

Kabei glanced towards the Primitive, who was still standing around confused and terrified, but, as Kabei could see from the corner of his eye, grateful.

"I…disagree. They can be motivated without wanton cruelty," Kabei said, finding his voice.

"Hmph. Sir, I've been doing this longer than you have. You'll change your mind eventually," said the slavedriver before skulking back down into the tunnel. Kabei watched them leave before glancing back at the Primitive, who had already vanished, returning to their work. Alone, Kabei stood at the tunnel entrance, watching the slaves dig. Another yawn pushed its way through his mouth.

I need to sleep, he thought. Walking away from the slaves, he nearly tripped over the pile of dirt left behind. Brushing it off of his knees, he sighed. Now, where in Karzahni am I going to put hundreds of thousands of Maki of dirt, he wondered. So long as he needed to keep the project secret, disposing of stone was an easy task compared to disposing of earth. He wondered if there was an engineer's solution to the issue, or if he would not need to find some stranger and more arcane answer.

Heading back towards the ship, he dwelled on the slavemaster's words. He wondered if they were right and that kindness was wasted on slaves, or whether they were simply ingrained in a system of violence and control. Did fear or loyalty inspire better work? Would it be practical to find out? Did it even matter?

Kabei had no idea.

RAHKSHI - THE PACIFIC

The Rahkshi of Sleep slipped its head above the surface of the water. To a passer-by, it was simply a part of the waves rocking the ocean - not that there were any passers-by, as far out into the Pacific as it was. There was only one possible witness who could have seen the being surface from the seawater, and if the Rahkshi was able to execute its orders as intended, that witness would soon be dealt with.

The target was dead ahead - a Primitive ship. The Rahkshi could see large gashes in the hull where it had sustained fire from Antroz's fleet, though clearly some makeshift repairs had been made. Past the ship, several other Primitive vessels were floating, embroiled in a pitched battle against one of the Brotherhood's fleets. The Rahkshi briefly watched the plumes of smoke as cannons fired and rockets were launched, and felt the urge to join in on the destruction, but it was above all loyal to its master's commands, and did not have time to dwell on the fight.

The targeted enemy ship was clearly too badly injured to aid its comrades, and appeared to instead be serving as a back-line support role. Dipping back under the surface, the Rahkshi nodded at its companions - a half dozen Rahkshi of Sleep like itself, taken from the 36th "Spares Him Pain" legion, and another half dozen Rahkshi of Illusion, from the 21st "Men of Mystery" legion. The two had very specific orders to work together on their task, and, with a thinning amount of oxygen remaining in their watertight armor suits, they had no time to wait.

It was harder to fly underwater than it was in air, noted the Rahkshi, as it sailed just under the surface of the water. In the air, there were fewer currents, there was little resistance; underwater, it was like trying to keep one's balance while standing on a razor blade.

Despite the difficulties involved, the Rahkshi was able to reach its target as quickly as planned, and it, along with the eleven others, surfaced next to the hull of the ship.

The group was practiced and highly-experienced - they did not need to communicate with each other their readiness. They knew by instinct where they were in the plan. While the Rahkshi of Illusion began to fly, rising slowly from the water, the Rahkshi of Sleep activated its powers.

It had to be very selective - if it accidentally knocked out its companions, it would ruin the mission. If it extended the range of its powers too widely, it would alert the crews of nearby ships. Instead, it channeled all of its energies into dropping the crew of the targeted ship into a deep slumber.

Sleep was a strange sensation. Whenever the Rahkshi used its powers, it could feel it, as clearly as it could feel the droplets of water clinging to its armor. It felt cold, but there was no chill to it. It was the same cold that one felt when deep underground, or when climbing a mountain, as the air grew thin. At the same time, sleep was thick, like oil, and it clung to you, dragging you with it. But despite its thickness, it moved like a wall of force, crushing anything in its path. Putting someone to sleep was easy; it was breaking the spell that was the hard part.

But the Rahkshi was both skilled and powerful - and backed up by five of its kin. If there were any beings aboard the ship that were able to withstand its assault, they were surely incapable of doing so against six at once. A second later, the Rahkshi of Sleep all began to levitate, joining their illusory cousins.

As they climbed over the railing and onto the deck, the Rahkshi was pleased to see that every single Primitive aboard had fallen into a deep slumber, exactly as intended. The Rahkshi of Illusion were already climbing and leaping up the side of the ship, towards the bridge. Following them, the Rahkshi of Sleep pulled themselves over the railing as well, and as a group, the twelve arrived at the bridge. Standing outside of it, the Rahkshi of Sleep yanked at the door, which remained stationary.

The Rahkshi shrieked into the ai, as it held its hands outwards. Out of nowhere, a staff grew, connecting the two bladed heads it held in either hand. Jamming the staff into the edge of the door, the Rahkshi wrenched against the full weight of the slab of metal. The eleven other Rahkshi began to join in, carving and cleaving at the door, attempting to either wedge it open, destroy its hinges, or otherwise cut a hole through it.

The Rahkshi mentally counted down the seconds as the door continued to hold strong. Raising its staff with one final effort, it jammed it into the frame of the bulkhead, and with a clang, the entire assembly fell inwards.

With a suppressed eagerness, the Rahkshi of Sleep threw itself onto the bridge and scanned the area. There were several Primitives lying asleep on the floor - each of which quickly found a Rahkshi standing above it. With surgical precision, the Rahkshi jammed their staves into the necks of the Primitives, sending each off to their fate in silence.

Satisfied that its task was done, the Rahkshi then returned to the outside of the ship and unclasped an object that had been clipped to its waist: a thin tube with a rope at one end. Pulling on the rope, a red light appeared at the other end, which blinked rapidly.

Waiting for a response, the Rahkshi watched a group of beings begin to descend from far above in the sky. It counted seven in all, approaching rapidly. It took less than a minute for the team of Atureas Long Patrol members to land next to the Rahkshi. They nodded at it as they filed through the door and into the bridge. Aboard each Atureas' face was a Kanohi which the Rahkshi lacked the understanding to identify - though if he had, he would have recognized them as Masks of Biomechanics.

The Atureas immediately took their positions at the bridge, standing where the Primitives once stood, and activating their masks. It was an imprecise ritual - the ship was a complicated mechanism, and something that the Atureas had never seen before. But the masks did their job well, and with minimal confusion, the Atureas began to bring the ship to life.

Meanwhile, the Rahkshi of Illusion scurried about the deck of the ship. Like the Rahkshi of Sleep, they were planning something that would require great care so as to not affect the Atureas or other Rahkshi aboard. Instead, they began to summon an illusion that would affect only the other Primitives in the enemy fleet.

The Rahkshi could feel the ship rock underfoot as its engines came to life, and it began to turn, gradually pointing away from the battle and off to the West. But to any Primitives watching the ship, wondering why it had suddenly fallen silent - all that they saw was a tremendous explosion emanate from within the ship's hull as the vessel began to take on water and sink into the sea. So busy with combat were the Primitives that they barely had time to recognize the tragedy of their lost ally, let alone send out lifeboats to rescue survivors. And perhaps if they had taken a thermal imaging map of the ship, they would see that the explosion generated no heat, or if they had taken a video of the ship, they would see that it floated as it always had - but they did not. As the battle came to its close, and the Primitive's navy once again made a retreat, the ship was forgotten, listed only as an unfortunate casualty, lost with all hands - but for a group of Rahkshi and Atureas, reality was far different, for they and their missing ship were headed somewhere very special.

HUANG BEIHAI - BEIJING, CHINA

Huang Beihai hollered into the microphone with a reckless enthusiasm, to the applause of the entire room.

"The winner takes it all! The loser has to fall…it's simple and it's plain, why should I complain?"

The hazy, cigarette-smoke filled atmosphere of the karaoke bar was filled with both the booming speakers casting backup vocals, and the sound of two dozen drunk politicians and bureaucrats murmuring among themselves while attempting to also provide said backup vocals themselves.

"But tell me…does he kiss…like I used to kiss you?" he sang, in a tone that was, if not exactly on tone or tempo, somewhere in its general area. As he sang, he pointed towards the waitress, who was depositing yet another tray of drinks on the table. A series of whistles and cheers came from the crowd along with a few claps, while the waitress looked up sheepishly. With great modesty, she shook her head no, but despite her protests, Huang was persistent. He was already nursing a healthy buzz, and the entire room was finding the interaction quite hilarious, so he saw no reason to stop.

"Does it feel the same…when he calls your name? Somewhere deep inside, you must know I miss you…" he sang, dancing slowly towards the waitress, who laughed at the display. Gesturing the microphone towards her, the waitress sighed, reluctant to join in the activities. With some light prompting, she joined in, with a far quieter and nervous tone than the loud-mouthed politician. Together, the two made a strange pair; one who was singing the song correctly but could barely be heard, and one who was confidently blurting out his somewhat-lacking best effort.

Huang Beihai had a great deal of experience in karaoke bars, despite his poor performance. In fact, the entire act was an elaborate ruse. In reality, he was nowhere near as drunk as he was acting, and was just using the opportunity to move closer to Han Yong, one of the few people in attendance at the gathering that he had not had the opportunity to speak to yet. After the song was over, he would leverage that proximity to open a conversation with the smartphone tycoon, and hopefully when said businessman left that evening, he would be doing so while scheduling a meeting with Huang.

Huang's children had, for the better part of the past decade, been concerned with their production of WeRide, a ride-sharing app that shared a uniquely similar user interface to Uber. Huang had been generally disapproving of their choice of business, as he was convinced ride-sharing was a fad that was on its way out, and so he had often told his children to pursue more traditional career paths as he had. However, when push came to shove, and his children tried to branch out by making an investment on a circuit board manufacturing company that went bankrupt two days later, he would do everything in his power to help them recoup that loss - even if it meant setting up a deal that would offload their debt onto Mr. Han.

This was how the game of politics was played in China. Huang was in his fifties, and was both a member of the Central Military Commission (a lofty position in the Chinese Communist Party), and the Minister of National Defense. He was not in fantastic shape, although he did try to exercise frequently, and he sported a thick-rimmed set of glasses and a combover to hide his thinning hair. He had once had a mildly prosperous career with the People's Liberation Navy, though he suspected that by now the navy was concerned with a younger generation of war heroes.

Continuing to sing his awry attempt at Abba's classic, Huang felt a sudden buzz in his pocket as his phone rang. Furrowing his brow, he tried to ignore it and focus on the song and his fellow bureaucrats. A moment later, the phone buzzed again - whoever was calling was particularly insistent.

Angrily, he pulled his phone from his pocket and inspected the caller ID. It was his secretary, Shao Jiaying. Frowning, he denied the call, and handed the waitress the microphone.

"Sorry, one moment," he said, as the room jeered at the sudden absence of singing. Huang typed quickly.

"Is it urgent?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Shao. The phone buzzed again as another call came through.

Huang sighed; his secretary was damn annoying at times like these. Accepting the call, Huang covered his other ear with his hand to attempt to muffle the sound of murmuring oligarchs.

"What?" Huang asked, dispensing with all pleasantries.

"Admiral Xue Qianfan is looking to reach you; he says he has urgent news about fleet movements in the Pacific."

"Alright, put him through -" Huang said, before one of the slightly-toasted politicians noticed him on the phone.

"Oy, who is it? Is it your wife?"

A chorus of "ooooooh"s went up around the room as they pointed towards the waitress, still standing nervously nearby. Huang waved them off as one would an annoying pest.

"Maybe invite her over, we'll take care of her," shot back another member of the group.

"It's Admiral Xue, he says he's got news about the Pacific," said Huang in a serious tone. The atmosphere of the room suddenly changed drastically as all eyes went towards him. Huang felt a twinge of pride answering such an important phone call in the middle of a crowd of oligarchs - it let every single one of them know just how significant his job was. Peacocking aside, however, he wondered what news could be so important that it had to interrupt his meeting.

"Well? What is it? Don't keep us waiting!", and all variations thereof came from each person in the room.

"I don't know! He hasn't called yet -" said Huang, before the phone buzzed in his hand. Again the room reacted with excitement. Huang waited a half-second - enough time to establish that he was in control of the flow of the conversation - before answering the phone.

"Admiral Xue," Huang said calmly.

"Distinguished Minister, I have news about the Pacific-"

"Yes, so I hear. What is it?"

"A number of our ships are reporting that an American destroyer has crossed our territorial waters -"

"What did he say?" asked one of the members of the group, while another shushed him, trying to listen.

"Put it on speaker!" said another, giggling.

"He says the American imperialists are sailing in our waters…" murmured Huang, as the room whispered among itself in reaction.

"Hah! The Americans are weak, they're just bluffing!" piped up one politician, to which the room responded in a round of "hear hear"s. Huang smiled briefly at them before returning his focus to the call.

"Have they made any pushes towards the mainland?" He asked Admiral Xue.

"No sir, though their action appears to be intentional. They were initially repelled by an escort of two cruisers, but once in international waters, they turned North, then returned again to our seas."

"Do you think they're probing at us?" asked Huang.

"I do not know, sir. Would you like me to send you the intelligence dossier?"

"No, no, have it sent to my secretary, I'll look over it tomorrow morning. Standing orders for tonight are to escort them out of our territory whenever they approach; do not authorize the usage of weapons. I don't know why the Americans are poking a dragon, but I want to keep it asleep for as long as we can."

"Poking a dragon? Yes indeed! You should have put a shot across their nose, they'd have run away immediately!" said another politician, playing to the room.

Huang was not convinced, though he kept the feeling to himself as he ended the call with Admiral Xue. It was standard practice to make bold and braggadocious claims when in situations like these, even if they were not entirely true.

As the room continued to murmur among itself with excitement, decrying the imperialist Westerners and their unspeakable treachery, a sole voice of opposition was heard. Councilman Shen, who Huang had not seen at many gatherings before, raised a nervous tone.

"Actually… If I remember correctly, our intelligence indicates that the American navy outnumbers us greatly, even in the Pacific alone. Perhaps we should pursue negotiation with them instead of jumping to any conclusions?"

The room fell silent, as everyone looked towards Councilman Shen. Huang sighed - whatever political career Shen had been planning had just been ruined in a moment of idiotic honesty.

"That's quitter talk, Shen - You doubt the strength of our navy?"

"Indeed! You should be ashamed, Shen!"

The room exploded into outbursts against Shen while Huang returned to his seat. It was clear his plans for Mr. Han were not meant to be, at least for the time being. Perhaps he would try again at their next meeting.

Huang thought briefly on Councilman Shen's words; that the Americans posed a significant threat in the Pacific. He did not know why they would act so brazen when they were busy fighting a mutual enemy, but Huang could feel a bead of sweat at his brow. Perhaps it was the heat, or he had just tired himself from singing and dancing; but it was also possible that maybe it was stress. Maybe the Americans were declaring a few extra enemies, as long as they were already gearing up for war. Huang hoped they would not be so stupid - but he could not say for certain.