Coriolanus Snow gives a sigh as he walks into his temporary command room. He has to be present, even if he doesn't understand how half these people were appointed to their position. There's arguments going on around the table, as they all consider the best course of action. As his three highest generals argue over their next move.
"We have to move against One. With the west lands in open rebellion as a whole, that blonde bitch is as spread now as her legs were in the Capitol. Move west and crush them, covering our backs, before turning on the East. We can move in and hammer them, take back the wealth of One, technology of Three, five's power. All we need to win this war."
Commander Paine slams his fist on the desk, voice harsh. "That 'blonde bitch' has an army at her back, Turner. Armour, air power, loyal troops. You're fully aware of the situation, and until further notice our air forces are on the backest foot east of the SiNevs and completely wiped out west of them. Without their support our boys would be devastated. Besides, with Eleven gone, we need to secure Nine and Ten in whole. Secure our food, keep their food from coming to them, and we can keep their little dogs down."
"Both of you need to stop acting like idiots. We're ignoring the big issue. We can cope without the entirety of Nine and Ten. Five cuts their forces in two, and as long as we have our foothold in the Reds we can pound rebels in the lowlands. Dovecote, what's the situation in the air? How's the fact-finding mission gone?" Price's voice is relatively low, even as he glances over at his protégé with some manner of pride. Dovecote's not technically army, but she's been working closely with Commander Price on the Five campaign, and he's taken her under his wing to an extent.
"Sir!" Captain Dovecote's voice is bright. She's newly promoted, the youngest in the room but the Air Force lost enough good staff to the Rebels to make her senior, and eager to prove herself. "We've lost six hovercraft, sir. Shot down, we assume, though they could have defected and we just aren't knowing yet. We've narrowed down where the Ones are in Five, though. Maps say that with the Grande finally secure."
Nervous laughter and a theatrical sigh ring through the room. The favoured casino of the Capitol elite had held out for two weeks, keeping rebel forces tied down in taking it room by room. Kept One from advancing into the hinterlands in whole. "They're swinging both columns northeast, keeping pressure up and stopping us from moving against Coin's Thirteens in Nine in our entirety. Could be anywhere in Operating Zone Five, though. Had a few hovercraft shot down, fully shot down, over that sector."
Coriolanus, when the war's over, makes a note to consider what to do with Dovecote. Clemmy's… oh, must be her granddaughter now, and about the most straightforward officer around the table. Either she needs to be removed form command to prevent her from handing over entirely the wrong message, or she should be promoted because she isn't exactly messing around in the way any of the others are. Still, that's a question he can think on later. For now, he nods to Admiral Harroway, the highest ranking officer since Grand Admiral Harrington had been listed among the dead in Four's mutiny.
"Harroway. How's the war going at sea?"
"We're getting fucked hard. Sorry for the language, sir." A brief salute is snapped off at Coriolanus, who waves it off. "But we've lost effective sea control. Between the Four mutineers taking half the navy, and hovercraft from Thirteen and Eleven blowing our patrol fleet out of the water in the gulf, we're not in a good position. A few frigates are still out in the gulf, and we've got reports from two assault craft off the Seven coast, but nothing with enough ability to attack and hold a settlement. One'll kick us out."
"And what are they doing now?" Coriolanus, to put it simply, is not happy. "One first, and their dogs. What are the western Districts doing?"
"One's gathering a second fighting force, sir. They've got the majority of our armour, artillery when they rebelled. Fucking disgrace we allowed them into that position, but it is what it is. Last we heard, they're hiring. Paying others, Sevens and Elevens, Fives and Threes to fight on their behalf. They have eighty thousand of their own mobilized in their war already, we're expecting another eighty at least within the year's end."
"Do we have anything that can absolutely, confirmedly block an advance on the Capitol should they pull north or west? Paine, I heard you'd dispatched Vance south. Any chance he could fend off a rebel push?"
A cough from Turner that could have been a disguised laugh, and Commander Paine's voice is tight, filled with the kind of officious notification that comes a little too late. "Sir. I'm regretful in reporting to you that General Vance, along with his accompanying force, was smashed by One's Army in the South earlier today. He didn't have enough as it was, we needed to shore up the Eastern Front more we thought, and as far as we can tell they managed to get a column into the pass and break him and his. Made worse by the fact he'd reinforced outlying settlements, so. Well, not a good position. Sir, right now the general's MIA assumed dead, his second is pulling back maybe two thousand to try and cover the Capitol. They, the blondes, are sweeping up the rail lines, Basin's under siege and they're looking to advance north. Furrier's smashing his smaller garrisons in Northern Five, Wright's sweeping across the south. Trying to avoid towns. And not moving up – we think they might be moving to meet with the massed power of Six and Eight at Starwalk."
A sigh, Coriolanus massages the bridge of his nose and wonders at the incompetence of his commanders. How they could break the Capitol's shield so easily is… a problem. Still, he takes up a stick. Turns, taps the map. "Nine. Are they still being-"
"Yes, sir. All being handled. We've retaken central Felleston with minimal casualties, and are expecting to be able to rebuild the rails from tomorrow. The riverlords may have defected, but we can still punish them. I'd like to advise fire. Starve out the east. If we can break them, we can bring the west to the table." Ashebrand has a grin on his face. Young, ambitious. Colonel Ashebrand is about the least significant person in the rom, but he's the one who managed to smash Ten's rebels back to the river, so (Coriolanus thinks, at least) he can grant the man some leeway on talking down to officers who haven't been so successful.
What next, what next, what next. There's a lot to cover, and so he claps his hands, and reaches out. "Can I get a full appraisal on what we hold?"
A nod, and soon Major Hoff, carrying a tablet, is standing. "Nothing in One, sir. The final bases fell yesterday. We still have the majority of Two, save the far south. Nothing in Three, and in Four we have troops but they're largely confined to the inland swamps. Oh, and troops still hold the Marches, but they're under siege from Ten's Southriver lot and from their own kind in the rurals. We can't rely on the Marchers in Four. In Five we hold the Front Range, along with the far west of the District. Probably one-twenty thousand people, the rest are under One and their allies. Or Bine, for that matter. Six, we lost Wijta last week, and with it most of our air maintenance facilities. Admin says a year, tops, before we're out of air power. Because we can't maintain that, and because we can't get maintenance in our bases in One, or Eleven, or anywhere. We're basically down to Five."
He takes a breath, ragged and tired, before keeping on. "We hold in Seven some of the inland, but our forces there are getting pushed out. We're looking to evacuate them by air, but One would need to let us through, and I don't trust them. Forces are still shelling Minset in Eight, but Eclaree has now a significant buffer, and our troops are just in the rural tracts. It's not a good situation, sir. Nine, we have a corridor to Eight, and we have troops west of the Sori. We're fighting in the River Fork, but I don't know how long that tempo can be kept up. Ten we hold the bulk of, everything most North of the River save for the upriver regions – where the Ones were. Front's pretty stable. We're out of Eleven save for isolated units fighting a campaign in the woods and mountains, and Twelve's… Twelve."
A moment's hesitation. It sounds, out into the world, like a distinctly bad situation to be in. Coriolanus has a moment's wait, before speaking.
"I need honest opinions." He looks round at the room, eyes the two dozen or so men and women clustered around the table. "If I proposed we open negotiations with the Rebels?"
"We can't afford to look weak. No truces." Hardinge's voice is gruff – he's a big man, looks more suited to pounding steel in Six, but now? Well, he's one of their most effective generals, and more to the point one of the only ones scoring any success. Still, his voice emboldens half a dozen of the arrayed commanders, and before long they're all speaking.
"I'd welcome a chance to bring the Home Guard against Furrier. Her army seems all good for smashing up our weakened defenders, but against an army motivated to defend their home?" Tacita Carrow presses her hand on the table, considering the map of the Capitol. "I could muster 17,000, and march them against One's south within the week. Smash the foxes in the south, and then sweep north." Ashebrand's nodding assent, but others are chiming in.
"Perhaps they would consent to a prisoner exchange. We still hold some of the Victors, do we…" There's a trailing of from Commander Lefford at the arranged shaking of heads, and eventually there's a piping up from Captain Dovecote. "I believe they were all liquidated, Commander. Part of the President's executions. And even were we to offer a trade? Would they do it?"
"Of course they would." Paine's voice is still thin, and still tense. "The Ones are too sentimental, the Victors in all. Their entire species is all too fond of one another. Regardless, that's besides the point. Mr. President, we must prevail upon our friends to join us. The Front Rangers and Reds probably still have manpower they can contribute, and if we break the Tens then we can get our forces back in the field and bring as many Tens as we can along with us. Sir, we have to move against Ten, and then break the Nines. As, sir, I've been suggesting their entire time."
Mayor Lowe, the only one of the non-Capitolite loyalists to be in the room, shakes his head. A representative from still loyal Two, there's a note of warning etched into his voice. "Sirs, we have to consider the bigger picture. Should Two fall, how many of your active troops will remain loyal."
A turning of heads, an angry demand of 'is that a threat' from Hardinge, but Coriolanus raises a hand. Indicates for Lowe to go on, and he does.
"Should Two fall, and they're already facing issues with Fairway, Wright and Carlssen against the regime, then you lose a large portion of your active soldiery and it'll be that much harder to recruit more. A shift towards supporting Two would allow you to better support your war, and once Two's secure then you can actually look at bringing up reserves and such to take on other Districts."
There's a moment's silence, then the room hears a few laughs. Hardinge speaks for the commanders, most of whom look to him at this moment. "We can't. Two has to remain loyal, our men are fine. A few isolated villages can be retaken after we've got an actual manpower base, and so long as the Mountain Fortress can hold we're safe enough. What's next, the Mockingjay lands in Two? Incites a full rebellion there?" There's a general burst of laughter, and Lowe shuts up, even as Coriolanus eyes the group with some concern. This dismissiveness is fair, but… concerning.
"We must mass our power." Turner pipes up, reaching his hand out to the table. Bring the hammer and anvil against Thirteen. If we can break them, maybe even kill that Mockingjay, then I'd sit us in a lot safer a position."
A nod from Coriolanus, and he waves his hand at the resident Air Forces officer. "Go on then, Dovecote. See whether we can at the least knock out Thirteen's air defences. No nuclears – One has some for certain secured, Eleven probably as well. If Coin's are still operational, we could be in a mess. I'd prefer not to risk it. Conventional weapons only."
A set of nods, Dovecote leaves, and Coriolanus can listen to the complains of his commanders. Listen with at the least some tiredness, because he's just so bored of their voices. Particularly Paine, who is of course the first to lean in. "Sir. We don't even know if Thirteen's nuclears are still operational. How many did they have? Twenty, thirty. They can't have made more without Five to enrich it for them, and I've been told that it's unlikely that they'll have anything left. Like as not, we're safe enough."
A raising of Coriolanus' hand is enough to quiet the room. "I don't want to die in nuclear fire. It may be Alma Coin has no weapon, I do not wish to gamble the lives of myself and my family on that belief. We must for now abstain. Now, I'll leave you to your work. I want a war plan drawn up from all of you who think you have the right of it by the end of the week. I'll review and select which one we go with."
They nod, and he raises a hand. "One more thing. General Fowler."
"Lord." Fowler's a prickly one, he raises his hand. "Lord, Fowler. My family has held the lordship of the lake since the Capitol took us." A nod, and of course they have. A failing, on the Capitol's part, to anticipate the mess the Fowlers would become, constantly demanding titles and respect.
"General Fowler." Coriolanus' tone brooks no argument, to his credit Fowler nods and gets on with it.
"The defenses are ready, sir. Our power has been brought out to meet the invaders should they reach our lines, and past that the city has been mined and prepared as much as possible. We're expecting some fight, but. Well, out there, that's their territory. Inside the walls, we've had seventy-five years to prepare for the fight of the Dark Days again. We've got trenches and all kinds of hedgehogs along the landwards side, and if they breach then we'll meet them with our mutts and traps, all kinds of things. They won't be able to force their way to the city center bar a miracle. The lakewards side is reinforced as well, coastal artillery, but you know the development there meant it was harder to prepare. Still, we've done the best we can."
He's escorted by his two guards when he leaves. Coughs, and sees blood in the handkerchief when he looks down at it. That's ignored, wrapped up in a second which is then slipped into a jacket pocket. The Capitol can't afford to look weak, and neither can Coriolanus Snow.
His diplomatic cabinet is in chaos when he walks in, and yet silence reigns at the hearing of his footsteps. There's a map of Panem and her littoral up on the big board at the back of the room, and one with numerous annotations. He takes a seat at the head, and considers them before nodding.
"We've been looking at the present situation. Are any of our… friends." He didn't even know there were other countries past Panem until he'd gotten high enough into the government. It still boggled him a bit, but they were small enough. And telling the Districts, well, that just wouldn't do.
"Are any of our friends beyond the borders looking to swing?"
A shaking of his head, and eventually the map zooms in on the three to the south, where various smaller city-states and provinces were dwarfed by the three neighbours of Panem.
"The Yucatan isn't looking to get involved. They're small, they're not spoiling for a fight. They've expressed gratitude towards the Capitol for not giving our South any knowledge of them that could cause an influx of refugees, but they're unwilling to deploy. Don't want refugees, don't want ours moving over there – say they have enough problems as is. The Santianans are much the same, in stronger terms. Maiko's not expressed a preference, but has warned they're in no position to fund a war. According to them, their silver mines are in a mess, and they don't want any more death than absolutely necessary here. We're not getting any help from abroad, sadly, and the cities are too small to do more than look at us. Plus, it'll let the rebels know they could go make friends, and that's not the best."
Nods, and there's a second rap of his hand on the table. "Peace. What can we get in terms of peace – is there anything we can get? Any points?"
Cassius sticks his hand up first, offers his suggestion. "The Districts have… an upper hand." Saying they're winning is too far, but having an upper hand is more than acceptable. "We need to offer them some concessions. We've come to the following conclusions."
The board flashes pink, and then comes up with a list, one Cassius reads off his pad.
"We will abandon the Hunger Games, and give a formal reparations payment to the families of every individual who did not win the Games. This will be prohibited in a new Panem constitution, in order to mollify the Rebel cause to at least some extent."
Nods from around the room, and Coriolanus has to speak because this seems so obvious.
"And what about when the Districts require… hope. You cannot expect to keep the Districts in line if they do not have something to keep them occupied. An issue, take it out and we'll circle back. What next?"
"A fall in mandated hours to fifty-two per week, as opposed to the present sixty. This, of course, does not consider overtime, which will return to payment at the prior to war 1.5 times rate. Additionally, minimum wage will be raised to thirty talents per week, at a twenty per cent rise over the prior rate in Districts Nine, Eleven, Twelve. This is of course not mandated to private businesses but state run firms, and is also not a mandate when considering gate prices for things like agricultural produce."
A series of nods from around the room.
"A reduction in Peacekeeper deployment, and a promised greater focus on working with the Peacekeeping Forces in quelling dissent via strategies more conducive to popular support. Given the issues within the Districts, we feel it's better to maintain a strong internal sense of camaraderie, something that cannot be accomplished via the kind of heavy-handed deployment we have been maintaining up to this point. I'm aware it may not be the best in suppressing future rebellion, Sir, but experiments in-"
"Experiments? You acceded to some kind of… plan to test your theories without consulting me, or the governing council?" This. This cannot stand. Rebellion against the Snow administration, an attempt to belittle and usurp power from the President of Panem? The blasphemy, the arrogance cannot be supported. "Where did you do this. Who did you consult in this matter? I should have been informed."
"I…" Cassius looks around, considers who to call on before finally quailing. "Commander Ashebrand, sir. He acceded to a request to work with us in this experiment – we reduced policing on the streets in Poradown, and moved most operations to a few key locations. The Crane hotel, the old mining complex to the north. We saw a fifteen per cent reduction in daily crime, and a higher percentage fall in reports of rebel activity." There's some strength in his voice in the end, but still. It's a problem, one that has to be stamped out. Now. This kind of dissent, of challenge to the necessary order of things cannot be allowed.
"Because Peacekeepers were not on the streets. I was a Peacekeeper, I should know. Without Peacekeepers on the streets, these people fall into savagery. It is their nature. Mr. Bracken. You're fired, report to the Peacekeepers. Clever men like you are always needed as NCOs. Blackwood, what's next? Come on, now.
Cassius Bracken stumbles from the room, disappointment written all over his face. Being completely honest, Coriolanus can't particularly find it inside him to care. The boy had taken action without his consent, tried to undermine the administration. He deserved a lot worse than a firing, but his family was… influential. Instead, replacing him with Blackwood would prove enough of an insult.
"Now. What's next?"
Luciana Blackwood looks down at her papers, just for a moment, and then nods. "We have, ah. We'll let the Districts keep their current administration, provided they cede taxes as before to the Capitol. This wasn't my idea, sir, but I was overruled."
"And in cases of a competing set of governments? Like Five, like Ten, like Nine, Miss Blackwood? Who would be taking power there – the Capitol or the rebels? Who would be taking power in the Capitol – especially with the rebels having their own government on our soil. Take that out. Immediately."
"Sir, we need to make concessions. We have to-" Useless. All of them. Claiming they have to concede. That the Capitol can't win, that they have to accept some cooperation with the rebels because otherwise they'll be destroyed. The Capitol won the last war, they can prevail against the Rebels and their march. They have to prevail against the rebels. He has to impress, upon a staff who are meant to be loyal, that there's no way they can make these deals. That the rebels are too much of a threat
"District One is marching on the Capitol. On our city, not the outlying towns. They bring with them the power of Seven, Five, Three. Eight and Six are massing in Nine for campaign against Two, Two herself is divided enough that they're only barely going to hold." IT's true, Two may not hold if the reports are true. But Two has to hold, or else the Capitol is liable to be destroyed. Or else the Capitol will lose her shield, and be forced to mobilize the locals en masse.
"Eleven has crossed the river into Ten, and with Southriver's lot and Four we are liable to face brutal fighting there, in Ten.. Thirteen is taking active part in this conflict against us, traitors who we failed in allowing to take their shelter and abandon the rest as opposed to entering war. And you propose that we accede to these plans? Demilitarize and surrender. What next? We allow them into our homes, allow them to take our wives, our children? We cannot acquiesce to their barbarism without allowing that barbarism to corrupt ourselves."
A sigh, and it's left to the screen to tell him what he can guess. The Snow administration will lose all power. He'll likely be arrested, or executed. There's one more question, just one, before he can accept the decisions and. Well, not move on, but at the least make his considerations as to whether or not to continue negotiating.
"My granddaughter?" Aemilia. The only person he really entertains any more. Because she's.. she's his family, and because she's the only one he can imagine in succession. A sigh from across the table, and Catarina Price raises a hand.
"Speak, Miss Price."
"We're speaking with Furrier. She's informed us in no uncertain terms she isn't stopping, sir. But she's also claiming she'll give amnesty to anyone under sixteen. And-"
"And even if One is. Even if that upjumped fox is willing to offer us those terms." His voice is rising, now, Coriolanus can feel his eyes burning into each of the diplomats in the room. "What of Thirteen? Nine, Eight, Eleven? Do you really think the outliers will offer the same courtesy as our own beltway? No, we fight. We survived in the first war, we'll survive this war. I leave you – if you can present a suitable agreement between us and these. Rebels, do. Until then, goodbye."
After Coriolanus has left, the room becomes less tense, several of the staff glancing at each other. "Should we?"
"I…"
"We have to work something out." Luciana's the only one to intercede, doing so with a frown. "I doubt our President remember, but we held One, most of Two, the front of Five and positions in the other Districts. We hold nothing similar now. Peace is the only option."
She sighs, and soon stands. "I'll go. Try and find some… accords."
Author's Note:
To confirm, yes. Santiana, the Yucatan and Maiko are all existing non-Panem states. I don't ascribe to the 'Panem is isolated' clique – my lean for all three of them is smaller states in the Caribbean, and even if the people don't know the government does.
A tad self-indulgent, but Snow's fall is something so interesting to me I just had to do it.