Post by thewanderer on Jan 26, 2022 8:18:53 GMT
Рен Халман,РСК, Ансериус
Rhen Kahlman, RSC, Ancerious
Центральный правительственный центр, Кулосоград
Central Government Center, Kulosograd
ИЮЛЬ/14/2455 MBP -/- 78 ДУША
July 14 2455 MWR/78 AME
The planning room was tense enough that one could reach out and take a slice of it like cake, if one so wished. No amount of wood paneling, paintings of great times and deeds of Restevia or any other trappings of such a room could take away from the reality of what was facing every minister, commander and member of Politburo in the room. The whistling of the wind outside simply highlighted the tension of what they were looking at.
“Comrade Marshal, please don’t sugarcoat things. I’ve had quite enough of that with this whole matter as a whole.” President Lena Zaytsev was saying, her glasses held in her hands as she ran a cleaning cloth across them. The usually jovial and optimistic leader of Restevia and her people was anything but optimistic or jovial as she looked across the table, her hard gaze piercing through the projection of the strategic holotable to Marshal Nikolai Brelkov. All eyes were on the old man as he stood, clearing his throat and tapping the projection controls.
“Of course, comrade president.” he rumbled, bringing up an image of Ancerious. Without further preamble he launched forward, highlighting Aedleshaven.
“As of intelligence from our allies twenty hours ago, we have been notified of a massive Coronan fleet inbound to the Ancerium fields of Aedleshaven. Initial reports have estimated the Coronan fleet at being numbered near one hundred thousand. This is well above and beyond any force the RSC faced in the war against the APP, and more than even the Terrans sent against us.”
There were worried rumblings at this. Such a fleet could not go unopposed, naturally, but on their own the RSC would be slaughtered, assuming the entire fleet could mobilize at all with the current shortage. Across the Confederation, fuel rationing was already strictly in effect, with collider projects already popping up on industrial planets by the score to fill the gap. This was just fuel on the fire, and the Marshal was not done.
“This comes on the heels of the announcement by Orillia of their alliance, CONA. Orillia has been in the sights of our intelligence corps for some time now, but this move, while anticipated, is still unprecedented, as is how quickly CONA has grown. A counter-alliance is already growing by name of SAGA, which has attracted the attention of many of our allies. Intelligence indicates that both alliances are mustering forces to deploy to Aedleshaven. With tensions as they are, indications are predicting a violent confrontation or at the least some sort of political scuffle, Coronans or no, the scale of which cannot be predicted.”
President Zaytzev was silent for a long, long moment.
“Comrade marshal, are you saying that we could be looking at another war?” she asked plainly.
“Yes, ma’am.” he answered, just as plain.
What mutterings had been going around the table ceased immediately. Another war. It had not even been two decades since the last had ended and many Restevian worlds still bore the scars. Children born on Ural were not yet adults and their parents were not yet old. The memories of the world’s destruction, saying goodbye to loved ones that never returned, the news showing the stark hell of the fronts… None of those memories had healed. And war was coming again.
To her credit, President Zaytsev did not curse or sigh. She simply looked at Brelkov, and meshed her fingers.
“What do you advise, Nikolai?”
“First, we should prepare a force to muster out to Aedleshaven.” Brelkov replied, changing the display to show the force readiness of the RSCAF. They had never been stronger, but… All that could change in an instant.
“As cautious as we should be, the idea of the Coronans taking the Ancerium harvesting is a reality none of us want. Regardless of the force sent, we must be prepared.”
“Agreed, comrade. See to it.” Zaytsev stated, and the Marshal nodded, tapping on a keyboard connected to Fleet Command, three blocks down.
“What next?”
“There is the question of securing our allies. The Minevans are still in the process of recovering following their return, and RANGSI, whilst strong, may be a target of CONA should shooting start. I advise that we deploy forces to both in order to aid them.”
“Minister Kandiliov, do we have the fuel for such deployments?” the president asked, and a thin, mousy woman cleared her throat to answer.
“Not conventionally, madam president, not with the distances involved. Normally our ships would carry the fuel they needed entirely on their own, but with the synthetic Ancerium we are having to use for much of the Navy at this time, reactors and FTL drives burn it less efficiently by a factor of almost one third. Both forces will need tankers moving with them to keep supplied and moving, and it will be very expensive.”
“But it can be done?” Zaytsev asked.
“Yes, madam president.” the minister answered with a nod.
“Then see to it. Both RANGSI and Mineva must be aided, they would do the same for us. I want both fleets assembled and moving by week’s end.” Zaytsev stated firmly, and Brelkov nodded.
“As you command, comrade president.”
“Furthermore,” she continued, leaning forward. “I want a bulletin posted to all nations in our SJRS to increase readiness in case of attack. They are not us, but I will not leave them out to dry or keep them in the dark.”
“Not all of them may be willing to listen to us, comrade president.” Mikhailakov, the foreign affairs minister reminded. “With the forming of CONA, those opposed to our influence may take this chance to strike out at us and those who support us.”
This brought more murmurs.
“It is a risk we must take, I am afraid.” the president responded. “Those who listen will listen, and perhaps the warning will not be needed. Marshal?”
“Yes, comrade?”
“Raise the overall readiness level to DEFCON 2. We’re not at war yet and we may not be, but I do not want us to be caught flatfooted.”
“Aye, comrade.” he nodded.
“And what of SAGA, comrade Mikhailakov?” she asked, turning her eyes back to the minister.
“I advise that we join or at least express interest in doing such, comrade. With tensions being as they are, it would be deeply unwise to remain on our own. It will bring political complications and may complicate the plans of the Socialist Conference, but I still believe it to be more of a help than a hazard at this time.”
There was a very long pause as the president considered this and the implications of it. Finally she nodded, drawing in a breath before she spoke.
“Very well, begin the process.” she stated, and Mikhailakov nodded. He was going to be busy very soon.
“Are there any more items of immediate interest?” she asked, looking across the table.
There were not.
“Then this meeting is adjourned.”
----
Two hours later, Lena Yurineva Zaytsev sat heavily in her office, staring out at the frigid weather outside. Running a hand through her hair, she blew out a breath and closed her eyes tightly. Holding it together in front of the Politburo and her peers, a number of which she called friends and a few enemies, had been hard. After all the RSC had been through they deserved a strong leader, but behind closed doors she could let the facade slip. And slip it did It took all she had to not sob in helpless grief and frustration, or to take a long swig from the flask she kept in the fourth drawer on the left.
Again. It was happening again. The chains that held the RSC, beloved Restevia down for so much of its history were threatening to snap shut again, and could not do anything to stop it should it come. Orillia and CONA… the shortage of Ancerium… War. Melancholy was an easy trap to fall to in times like this, and as exhausted as it all made her, she had to keep at least some part of her together in the face of it all lest melancholy turn to grief and grief turn to something worse. Opening her eyes, she turned to her desk, and tapped the activation button of her tea pot before she looked to the portrait. It was a simple photo, taken on the beaches of Delosivirna in the Milky Way, one last vacation before they deployed. She and her husband and their children. Of the five of them in that photo, two remained. Leonid, lost to a sniper while she was on the election trail for Economics Minister. Misha, his ship lost to Capitol raiders, all hands. Natalia… her fate was still unclear. The medals sat on the desk beside the photo, but she did not look at them.
“Hold up the sky for me, Leo.” she murmured before she picked up the phone. She resolved to call Ilya before the day was out, but before then… she had work to do.
Rhen Kahlman, RSC, Ancerious
Центральный правительственный центр, Кулосоград
Central Government Center, Kulosograd
ИЮЛЬ/14/2455 MBP -/- 78 ДУША
July 14 2455 MWR/78 AME
The planning room was tense enough that one could reach out and take a slice of it like cake, if one so wished. No amount of wood paneling, paintings of great times and deeds of Restevia or any other trappings of such a room could take away from the reality of what was facing every minister, commander and member of Politburo in the room. The whistling of the wind outside simply highlighted the tension of what they were looking at.
“Comrade Marshal, please don’t sugarcoat things. I’ve had quite enough of that with this whole matter as a whole.” President Lena Zaytsev was saying, her glasses held in her hands as she ran a cleaning cloth across them. The usually jovial and optimistic leader of Restevia and her people was anything but optimistic or jovial as she looked across the table, her hard gaze piercing through the projection of the strategic holotable to Marshal Nikolai Brelkov. All eyes were on the old man as he stood, clearing his throat and tapping the projection controls.
“Of course, comrade president.” he rumbled, bringing up an image of Ancerious. Without further preamble he launched forward, highlighting Aedleshaven.
“As of intelligence from our allies twenty hours ago, we have been notified of a massive Coronan fleet inbound to the Ancerium fields of Aedleshaven. Initial reports have estimated the Coronan fleet at being numbered near one hundred thousand. This is well above and beyond any force the RSC faced in the war against the APP, and more than even the Terrans sent against us.”
There were worried rumblings at this. Such a fleet could not go unopposed, naturally, but on their own the RSC would be slaughtered, assuming the entire fleet could mobilize at all with the current shortage. Across the Confederation, fuel rationing was already strictly in effect, with collider projects already popping up on industrial planets by the score to fill the gap. This was just fuel on the fire, and the Marshal was not done.
“This comes on the heels of the announcement by Orillia of their alliance, CONA. Orillia has been in the sights of our intelligence corps for some time now, but this move, while anticipated, is still unprecedented, as is how quickly CONA has grown. A counter-alliance is already growing by name of SAGA, which has attracted the attention of many of our allies. Intelligence indicates that both alliances are mustering forces to deploy to Aedleshaven. With tensions as they are, indications are predicting a violent confrontation or at the least some sort of political scuffle, Coronans or no, the scale of which cannot be predicted.”
President Zaytzev was silent for a long, long moment.
“Comrade marshal, are you saying that we could be looking at another war?” she asked plainly.
“Yes, ma’am.” he answered, just as plain.
What mutterings had been going around the table ceased immediately. Another war. It had not even been two decades since the last had ended and many Restevian worlds still bore the scars. Children born on Ural were not yet adults and their parents were not yet old. The memories of the world’s destruction, saying goodbye to loved ones that never returned, the news showing the stark hell of the fronts… None of those memories had healed. And war was coming again.
To her credit, President Zaytsev did not curse or sigh. She simply looked at Brelkov, and meshed her fingers.
“What do you advise, Nikolai?”
“First, we should prepare a force to muster out to Aedleshaven.” Brelkov replied, changing the display to show the force readiness of the RSCAF. They had never been stronger, but… All that could change in an instant.
“As cautious as we should be, the idea of the Coronans taking the Ancerium harvesting is a reality none of us want. Regardless of the force sent, we must be prepared.”
“Agreed, comrade. See to it.” Zaytsev stated, and the Marshal nodded, tapping on a keyboard connected to Fleet Command, three blocks down.
“What next?”
“There is the question of securing our allies. The Minevans are still in the process of recovering following their return, and RANGSI, whilst strong, may be a target of CONA should shooting start. I advise that we deploy forces to both in order to aid them.”
“Minister Kandiliov, do we have the fuel for such deployments?” the president asked, and a thin, mousy woman cleared her throat to answer.
“Not conventionally, madam president, not with the distances involved. Normally our ships would carry the fuel they needed entirely on their own, but with the synthetic Ancerium we are having to use for much of the Navy at this time, reactors and FTL drives burn it less efficiently by a factor of almost one third. Both forces will need tankers moving with them to keep supplied and moving, and it will be very expensive.”
“But it can be done?” Zaytsev asked.
“Yes, madam president.” the minister answered with a nod.
“Then see to it. Both RANGSI and Mineva must be aided, they would do the same for us. I want both fleets assembled and moving by week’s end.” Zaytsev stated firmly, and Brelkov nodded.
“As you command, comrade president.”
“Furthermore,” she continued, leaning forward. “I want a bulletin posted to all nations in our SJRS to increase readiness in case of attack. They are not us, but I will not leave them out to dry or keep them in the dark.”
“Not all of them may be willing to listen to us, comrade president.” Mikhailakov, the foreign affairs minister reminded. “With the forming of CONA, those opposed to our influence may take this chance to strike out at us and those who support us.”
This brought more murmurs.
“It is a risk we must take, I am afraid.” the president responded. “Those who listen will listen, and perhaps the warning will not be needed. Marshal?”
“Yes, comrade?”
“Raise the overall readiness level to DEFCON 2. We’re not at war yet and we may not be, but I do not want us to be caught flatfooted.”
“Aye, comrade.” he nodded.
“And what of SAGA, comrade Mikhailakov?” she asked, turning her eyes back to the minister.
“I advise that we join or at least express interest in doing such, comrade. With tensions being as they are, it would be deeply unwise to remain on our own. It will bring political complications and may complicate the plans of the Socialist Conference, but I still believe it to be more of a help than a hazard at this time.”
There was a very long pause as the president considered this and the implications of it. Finally she nodded, drawing in a breath before she spoke.
“Very well, begin the process.” she stated, and Mikhailakov nodded. He was going to be busy very soon.
“Are there any more items of immediate interest?” she asked, looking across the table.
There were not.
“Then this meeting is adjourned.”
----
Two hours later, Lena Yurineva Zaytsev sat heavily in her office, staring out at the frigid weather outside. Running a hand through her hair, she blew out a breath and closed her eyes tightly. Holding it together in front of the Politburo and her peers, a number of which she called friends and a few enemies, had been hard. After all the RSC had been through they deserved a strong leader, but behind closed doors she could let the facade slip. And slip it did It took all she had to not sob in helpless grief and frustration, or to take a long swig from the flask she kept in the fourth drawer on the left.
Again. It was happening again. The chains that held the RSC, beloved Restevia down for so much of its history were threatening to snap shut again, and could not do anything to stop it should it come. Orillia and CONA… the shortage of Ancerium… War. Melancholy was an easy trap to fall to in times like this, and as exhausted as it all made her, she had to keep at least some part of her together in the face of it all lest melancholy turn to grief and grief turn to something worse. Opening her eyes, she turned to her desk, and tapped the activation button of her tea pot before she looked to the portrait. It was a simple photo, taken on the beaches of Delosivirna in the Milky Way, one last vacation before they deployed. She and her husband and their children. Of the five of them in that photo, two remained. Leonid, lost to a sniper while she was on the election trail for Economics Minister. Misha, his ship lost to Capitol raiders, all hands. Natalia… her fate was still unclear. The medals sat on the desk beside the photo, but she did not look at them.
“Hold up the sky for me, Leo.” she murmured before she picked up the phone. She resolved to call Ilya before the day was out, but before then… she had work to do.