16.4: To Convene, To Convene (Part 2)
"So," said Jaime Pierrot. "War."
There was no shortage of lounges in the Seat of Man, as befit the name. There was one for each member state of the Central Governing Council, so that they could convene with their entourages for discussion after they had convened with the rest of the council for discussion. The one belonging to the Lesser Chain particularly was quite pleasant -- the furniture was of classical Chain design, all noble and resplendent, with red curtains drifting over the grand window that looked out into the city.
Right now, the two of them stood -- Jaime Pierrot and Albert Raise -- looking out over the world their decisions were shaping.
"Where's this new Nebula of yours?" Pierrot asked with mild curiosity, taking a sip of his coffee. "Sir Ethel Faust, right?"
Raise glanced sideways at him. "I… left him elsewhere. I felt it best he didn't attend a meeting like this -- didn't hear what we had to say."
"You don't trust him?"
"It's not that he's not trustworthy…" Albert muttered uncomfortably. "It's just that he's not… trustworthy. Do you understand my meaning?"
Pierrot nodded. "I see. I see. A pity -- I'm told he's quite capable. He'd have made a fine piece on the board."
Albert Raise hadn't always been the Prime Minister of the Lesser Chain. For a long time, he'd been part of UniteFleet -- and during those years, he had acted as Pierrot's superior. They'd known each other since before Pierrot received the Prince… and it would be no exaggeration to say that Pierrot considered him a mentor.
The other members of their secret little circle… Xiurong, Agnes… they knew that Pierrot had his plans, but not where those plans came from. Albert Raise alone knew everything. He was the only one that Pierrot had confided in about the Prince that lived inside his head.
"This action plan that Xiurong has sent around," Albert mumbled. "You've given him it?"
Pierrot nodded. "An immediate response. A proportionate response. A show of force and fury."
Albert took a deep breath. "It'll mean war, you know… for certain."
"It's a war the Prince wants," Pierrot said grimly, downing the rest of his coffee. "It's a war the Prince needs. I don't know why exactly… but the time has come."
Albert raised an eyebrow. "Peace and joy for all mankind?" he asked.
"Peace and joy for all mankind…" Pierrot echoed. "...once all is said and done."
"We missed you at the meeting, schlorp," said Pollyanna Botfly, beaming up at her target of conversation.
Zephyr Pandershi glared back down at her. She'd managed to corner him in one of the corridors leading back toward the council chamber, and -- judging by the sour expression on his face -- he definitely wasn't happy about it. Not that he could do anything. He was alone right now, whereas Pollyanna had Nebula Three behind her.
Someone of her stature and her stature learned early on to make themselves safe from the kicks of others.
"I'm sure you did," Pandershi replied icily as she blocked his path. "I wouldn't fret, though. The transcription program I devised has already sent me a copy of the minutes, complete with any facial expressions and non-verbal cues of note. No decisions have been made as of yet. For all intents and purposes, I might as well have been there."
Pollyanna let the self-satisfied yapping wash over her, and just cocked her head. "Did you have somewhere better to be, bliep?" she asked. "We saw that your new Nebula was guarding your ship, bemlo? Is it really safe to wander around without an escort, pluey?"
Pandershi's eye twitched in annoyance at each occurrence of the verbal tic. "You know," he said. "There are procedures that could probably fix that little defect of yours. People in the Superbian church, no doubt. Hell, I might even be willing to do it as a matter of charity, if you ask nicely."
Tom Foolery stepped out of Pollyanna's shadow, just a tad. "Watch yourself, boy," he said mildly.
Boy?
That in itself was a little absurd, Pollyanna reflected. Her godfather and the Director of the Pandershi Foundation were actually very close to being the same age, in their late sixties. Appearances could be deceiving. Pandershi was a pioneer in the realm of anti-aging surgery -- like he was in so many damned others -- and so he'd managed to restore his appearance to that of a young man in his twenties. Apart from the hands, though. His hands were still the wrinkled talons they'd always…
Pollyanna hesitated. She'd just glanced at the hands of Zephyr Pandershi… and they were completely smooth, unmarred by wrinkle or scar. Above her, Pandershi smirked.
"Is there a problem, First Citizen?" he asked, a giggle barely stuffed down his throat.
The hands were… were confirmation, then. It wasn't that Pollyanna had disbelieved the information she'd received from Ansem, but to think…
"Let me tell you something," Pandershi said quietly, squatting down to speak to Pollyanna face-to-face. Tom twitched, ready to move -- but Pollyanna raised a hand to stop him.
Slowly, she nodded.
"The reason I didn't attend your little meeting," Pandershi whispered, almost gently. "Is because it's meaningless to me whether we go to war or not. My territory is absolute. Even should the fires of war consume the galaxy, not a lick of it will come near my possessions. My planet, my people… they'll go untouched."
"You sound awfully confident in that, qwerty," Pollyanna whispered back.
"Yes. I can guarantee that to you right now, without any doubt at all in my mind."
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
"Why?" she leaned in closer. "Will your friends at Darkstar help you out?"
Pandershi's smile dropped, and his eyes widened. For the first time in a long while, words failed to come to his mouth. That lovely face turned a lovely shade of pale.
And doors opened all across the hallway. Armed soldiers of Paradoxia, Scurrants of every shape and size, all of them with their weapons trained on Pandershi. The ambush had been successful. His arrogance had served as a second pair of eyelids.
They got him.
"Mr. Pandershi," Tom said, clenching his fists. "If you'll come with us."
"War…" the Landgrave of Brainen intoned. "So, the time has come."
"Eh," the President of the Maraze State scoffed as he gulped down a beer. "Remains to be seen, buddy."
The Oba of Inganci frowned as the bottle was slammed back down onto the table, a spiderweb of cracks spreading up throughout it from the force. "Should you be drinking right now, friend?" he asked. "Given the day."
"Invisible Scurrant," Gainhill waved a hand. "I can handle my liquor better than most fellas. It'll be out of my system in a couple of minutes."
The leaders of the UAP's biggest military powers had gathered in the Oba's quarters to discuss the coming vote. A recess had been declared for the gathering -- giving the members a chance to decide how they would vote, and giving Zephyr goddamn Pandershi a chance to actually show up. Inganci, Brainen, and Maraze… they had taken the opportunity to meet in private and reach a consensus before the council reconvened.
"If it comes to war," Karl looked to Gainhill as well. "How fast can UniteFleet mobilize?"
UniteFleet originated from the Maraze State, and they still controlled the majority of their shipping yards and training facilities. Gainhill considered the question as he gulped at another beer.
"Standard procedure for a new Supreme," he finally said, wiping the foam from his lips. "We're prepared for something like this -- where the new fella wants to rattle sabers, I mean. We've got ships buzzing around the border already -- not the real far places like that Yutra… but we can be where we need to be in good time."
"A preemptive strike is possible, then," Karl mused.
"Possible," Ekon the Oba cut in. "And unwise."
Karl narrowed his eyes. "I would have never thought the warriors of Inganci to be cowards."
"And should you say a thing like that to one, you would quickly find yourself cut down," Ekon barked back seriously -- before relaxing, his features softening. "But it's as Mr. Gainhill said during the meeting. I feel we are being tempted to dance to Xiurong's tune. I dislike the feeling."
"You think he has ill intentions?" Karl raised a grey eyebrow.
"I do not know… and this is another feeling I dislike. I can see how this war would benefit us -- war is the industry of warriors, after all -- but I cannot see how it benefits Xiurong. The man who should push against this is leading the charge in its favour. I fear he is voicing the desires of another."
"Who?" Gainhill asked.
Ekon scratched at his beard. "I do not know… but until we do, I feel we should tread carefully."
The Landgrave had his own visits to make.
After he was done with his fellow warriors, the grim-faced man marched through the web of the Seat of Man, a perpetual scowl tugging down at his features. It was not strange for him to be grim -- today was a grim day. Any who met such events with a smile was nothing but a fool.
He marched through the door waiting for him, past the masked knight who made no move to impede, and stepped into the lounge. His bastard waited outside with his fellow Nebula, as was his station. That, at least, the boy understood.
But no matter. Karl had greater concerns right now than his walking impropriety.
"Albert Raise," he called out as he saw the back of the head he had been looking for. "I have business with you."
The Prime Minister of the Lesser Chain turned to look at him, his face pale. The face of a politician caught in politics. Karl disliked it. His eyes slid over to the Prime Minister's companion -- another older gentleman, bald and bearded. His face seemed somewhat familiar… hadn't he been part of UniteFleet, once upon a time?
"Landgrave," Raise said respectfully, turning fully around from the window. "What is it… what can I do for you, old chap?"
"It's idiotic that you even ask," Karl replied. "We need to discuss the coming vote. The military is ready to dispatch. Are the coffers of the Lesser Chain ready to support them?"
"Ah, well, I…"
"The military is ready to dispatch," Karl repeated. "Are the coffers of the Lesser Chain ready to support them?"
"The Prime Minister will have to consult with the cabinet," Raise's companion answered for him. "It's not a simple matter."
"And you are?"
"Jaime Pierrot," the man nodded curtly. "Formerly with UniteFleet. Currently in the Department of Efficiencies."
The Landgrave sniffed. He remembered now: Jaime Pierrot. The captain who'd been disgraced and expelled from UniteFleet for losing his ship and his crew. So he'd ended up as another pencil-pusher? How sad.
"I've worked with the Prime Minister a great deal in the past," Pierrot explained. "Back in our UniteFleet days."
"Mm," Karl grunted.
"At any rate, if you'd like to field any questions," Pierrot said. "I'm sure I could
And
Then
It
Arrived.
The building trembled.
The floor shook.
The windows rattled.
Pierrot moved first. His face had turned as pale as the Prime Minister's as he ran to the windows, planting his hands against the glass and staring up at the sky. His voice came out halting, almost broken.
"Oh… oh…"
Karl stepped up to join him -- and, just the same, the words trickled through his lips on their own.
"...they beat us to it…"
A star cast a shadow over the earth.
In low orbit, hanging over the city, appearing in an instant.
The very center of the universe.
The Sheshanaga had come.
A moment of frozen terror.
The cafe had been quiet until just a few moments ago. Now, like all the rest of the city -- all of the rest of the city that could see their new visitor -- it was filled with the noise of panic and fear. A familiar cadence for those who had lived long enough, but still… it never really stopped being annoying.
She stood up.
She looked up.
She frowned.
The Sheshanaga hung in the sky above the city, looming over the world and casting a shadow of night. For the moment, the flagship of the Supremacy was content just to wait there, immobile… but for how long? Security-craft were already buzzing around it like flies.
At any rate, things had begun. It was time for her to move as well.
She walked away from the table, snatching the crook of the Shepherdess up as she went.