Victor regarded his superior coldly, but made no move to break the hold. “So?”
“So? We need to rethink phase four. And especially phase five. I need you to send out the word that everyone moves up the due date by a month.”
That got Victor’s attention. “That’s impossible, Jonah. We’ve planned this out to the detail. There’s no room for change.”
“Any plan without flexibility will break at the first sign of resistance.” Jonah smirked. “The first Blightman said that.”
“I know,” Victor said. He pushed away from his boss. “I was with you when he said it. What I meant is that we’ve planned out the timeline very carefully. Certain things have to happen at the right time. If we move this up, we’re bound to lose more than a few foot soldiers.”
“Sacrifices must be made in a time of war. Right now, the Federate is learning that first hand. We need to use this opportunity. In one month, we teach them their second lesson.”
Vienna
Incorporated States of Europe
The high chancellor sat at the table, a glass of bourbon within arm’s reach. Jerry paced the room with the other staffers, yelling at someone on the other end of the phone. Alexander was reaching for his glass when his aide, Arthur Roden, took a seat in front of him. Arthur was his usual immaculate self, spit-shined and perfectly tailored. Alexander wondered if he’d been up all night grooming himself for his entrance. Probably.
“Midway is taking a beating. We don’t want to lose that ship.”
Alexander nodded. “Who’s commanding her?”
Authur leafed through his notes. “Hiro Osaka. He’s a vet, well decorated. Says here he turned down three promotions to admiral so he could stay with the ship.”
The high chancellor smiled. “I should have done that.”
“Sir?”
“Times like this, I really hate wearing this suit.” He tugged at his shirt and tie. “I used to feel in control, when I wore the other uniform. Now, I’m grasping at smoke.”
Authur choked back his first comment and waited to formulate a thought. “Sir, there’s no one in the universe who could have seen this coming. We can’t kick ourselves for not realizing an intergalactic war was on the rise. All we can do is find the opportunities and exploit them while the timing is right.”
Alexander shrugged.
Jerry stormed over, throwing his phone down on the table. “We’re losing ships, but so are they. And, a small spot of good news, it seems we have friends up there. The silver armada either understood our broadcast or just doesn’t see us as a threat.”
“Broadcast?” Arthur asked.
“We put it out in every language, and a binary print that some scientists thought to use. Basically it said, ‘Stay out of the way.’”
Admiral Gilroy, watching from a large display, coughed loudly. His large, bald head dominated the screen, close enough that the staffers could see the vein bulging in his temple. “High Chancellor, with all respect, I need you to reconsider my request.”
Alexander glared at the screen. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’ll even consider it. Ronin protocol is completely unnecessary.”
Gilroy snorted. “Chancellor, this is only the tip of the spear. Just because you’re scared of a little political fallout doesn’t mean we should risk the whole goddamn planet.”
Alexander rose to his full height. Fire burned in his eyes. “I won’t hear another word about this, admiral. I will see stars fall off your shoulders if I hear it again. Am I understood?”
The officer looked ready to explode, but buried his anger and ended the call with a curt nod. Arthur and Jerry exchanged worried glances.
After a long pause, Jerry said, “He’s not wrong.”
“Are we seriously talking about this?” Alexander looked at a second set of monitors. Images from the battle over Luna flashed on screen. “What the hell is going on today?”
Jerry leaned in close to his boss. “The last I checked, sir, there were fifty thousand members of the special-forces units in Sol and about a million men wearing any uniforms. The military is still rebuilding. You need boots on the ground. Now.” He sat down at the table, resting his head in his hands. “Perhaps we should revisit the draft.”
Alexander stared coldly. “This is a nightmare, Jerry. Let’s not make it worse.”
“All wars go to ground eventually, Alec. I’m just being pragmatic. It won’t be popular…”
“That’s an understatement,” Arthur said. “It’s political suicide. We’d all be out of the job at the next election, and that’s assuming one of the Pillars doesn’t try to impeach.”
The chief of staff tapped his lower lip, his eyes locked on the various monitors. “We need something to show the public. A new project that can demonstrate a decisive step toward combating these new threats.”
“We don’t even know what these new threats are,” Alexander said.
“Nonetheless, we need something.” Jerry pushed the CROWN file closer to the high chancellor. He locked eyes with his old friend. “It doesn’t have to fix the problem, just buy us time to find a better solution.”
Alexander put his head in his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to look up. “Fine.”
Arthur’s phone rang and he stepped out of the room. He could be heard in the hall shouting for a moment. Before anyone could speak, he popped his head back in. “Sir, New Eden has one hundred thousand soldiers stationed on the surrounding moons that can be deployable in the next forty-eight hours. The Black Adders have a battalion that’s just finishing their deployment to Kronos.”
The high chancellor blinked to clear his eyes. He felt the room still spinning. Burton had been raised to believe in the system—that doing the right thing would lead to the right end. He sneered at the thought. That ideology hadn’t prevented his father’s murder. He downed the rest of his drink.
“Tell them to activate every unit in the system. When those soldiers are finished training, I want them ready to deploy.”
Arthur frowned. “Shouldn’t we pull them all in now, sir? Why the delay?”
“Because they’re green,” Jerry said. “Most of them haven’t seen a day of real combat. Pulling them out of training now will only shake them up more. Better to let them finish.”
Alexander nodded. “Jerry, get me another drink. I have a feeling it’ll come in handy.” He looked around for his chief of staff, but Jerry was already gone.
Hilton Hotel, Vienna
Earth
Markov read over his proposal for the umpteenth time. He’d worded it perfectly, using layman’s terms so that it would be understood. How had they not seen what he was building? This wasn’t just about winning some silly fight with rebels. This was about the next fight. This was about the very future of humanity.
How shortsighted these politicians can be.
He sipped from his glass of ice water. The liquid tasted grainy; expected, given the amount of additives he’d thrown in. Markov couldn’t stand clear water. It felt wasteful. He hoped to one day cure the need for water altogether, but he hadn’t found the time to devote to that side project.
CROWN. It always came back to that one failed experiment. Successes are quickly forgotten, but one public failure will follow you for the