"Welcome back to the Situation Room. Tonight's top story: What happened to the five thousand American soldiers sent on an invasion of the Imperial planet Botane? The Pentagon remains silent, while the families of the soldiers that were sent off on the operation claim that the operation ended in disaster and thousands of US soldiers were captured or killed. Members of those families want answers, and they are speaking out here tonight, in the Situation Room."
----
White House Press Conference - July 16th, 1001 EDT
"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States."
"Thank you." [pause] "Today, I am here to give a full disclosure of the events of Operation Slowdown, also known as the invasion of the planet Botane. On July 10th, at 1 AM Eastern Time, five-thousand members of the United States Army pushed onto the planet Botane through Gateways on Earth and at friendly planets. They encountered only a token defense, and quickly established a perimeter and beachhead on the planet. At the time, Imperial forces were focused on halting our advance only. Roughly four hours after the invasion started, the Gateways connecting Earth to our forces on Botane were shut off by Imperial forces on Botane, and all communication with the planet was lost. No further contact was ever established with any member of Operation Slowdown."
"What we know next comes from reports from our Bashakran allies, collaborated by multiple sources. After the Gateways were closed, an Imperial spaceship fired a single artillery shot from orbit at the Gateport where Operation Slowdown was staging and headquartered, killing not only the leadership of Operation Slowdown and many of our men, but over one-hundred of their own citizens in the strike. Immediately afterwards, Imperial forces pressed inwards and took advantage of the confusion caused by the strike to quickly surround and subdue our forces. Some managed to escape with the aid of our Bashakran allies, but current estimates place the number of killed or captured at that more than ninety percent of the invading force of five-thousand. Those captured have been since transported to a secret prison facility unknown to our allies and our own intelligence sources, and the Imperium has not returned any requests for a list of those captured or killed."
"While this is a terrible defeat for our armed forces, it is not close to the end of our will to fight back against the Imperium, a fight for our very survival. We will learn from this tragedy, and come back stronger and more able to fight than ever before. However, this knowledge is hollow comfort to those families that lost loved ones in this defeat, and I ask the American people, and our allies both on Earth and off, to join us in a month of mourning for those we have lost. Let us go forward and ensure that their sacrifice was not in vain. Thank you."
----
MSNBC - Hardball - July 16th, 1905 EDT
"First up tonight on Hardball, the revelation of the crushing defeat of the US Army's attempted invasion of Botane: was it doomed from the start? With the force of five-thousand US soldiers being routed within five hours of arriving on the planet, it certainly seems so. Whose fault is it? The military? The White House? The GRHDI? Task Force 815? And what can we do going forward to keep this from happening again? Gerald Schindler, formerly of the US Naval Postgraduate School, you're on Hardball. What do you think could - or should - have been done differently? How could this disaster have been prevented?"
"Pure and simple, this is a failure to listen to your own intelligence sources. The GRHDI and Task Force 815 - our own experts on the Imperium and their military - repeatedly stated that this attack was a bad idea. They said that this exact series of events would happen, and when the Army ignored them and charged ahead anyway, they were proven right. This was a lesson that didn't have to be learned, and we certainly didn't need to pay with nearly five-thousand American lives."
"Harrison Wilder, leader of a group studying the Imperium for the think tank Center for a New American Century, you disagree and you're on Hardball."
"First, we have no reason to believe anything about what our alien 'allies' have reported. Task Force 815 and the GRHDI allied with a bunch of lawless spacefaring terrorists, and they expect us to just take this ridiculous story about our soldiers, the greatest military the world has ever seen, and expect us to believe that the Imperium simply brushed them aside? For all we know, they marched our brave men and women right into that prison themselves and we would be none the wiser - or they could still be bravely fighting and holding their own on that planet, and it is these aliens and the GRHDI that are keeping us in the dark."
"Now, one second, are you accusing the GRHDI of colluding with the same people that want to kill every single person on Earth?"
"I'm not accusing anyone of anything - but it would be one hell of a way to save your own skin by stabbing us in the back. These GRHDI - and especially Task Force 815 - they don't think like the rest of us. They don't see the threat that these aliens pose to our way of life, they dress like them, talk like them, Task Force 815 has put their technology in their bodies and taken them as wives. If that doesn't sound suspicious, well -"
"I think that's just about enough. Mr. Schindler, do you have a response?"
"What kind of response is there to something like that? If you're willing to believe something like that, then there's not much anyone could do to convince you to believe the truth."
"Fair enough. What do you think we can do to stop something like this from happening again?"
"Aside from not disregarding the best advice we have available? I think that's pretty much it. There's going to be a lot of going over the plans and what we know about the step-by-step of how this invasion happened and where things went wrong. I hope that the military doesn't lock the GRHDI out of that discussion, and I hope that they actually listen to them this time."
The email from Barnes arrives in everyone’s inbox a day after what happened to Botane hits the news:
Received a fax from the Pentagon’s Imperial war planning office today - they want Task Force 815 to participate in the moment-by-moment breakdown of the Botane invasion. Kroger, Hamilton, Bauer, all of the military bigwigs will be there, some on our side, some not. They’re assuring security for the event, but after what happened with Dyer and Simmons, I’d take that with a grain of salt. I’d still like you all to go - PR aside, we have to at least try to get them to figure out that they need to change their tactics and that we’re not even close to as powerful as the Imperial Turai are. Meeting’s in two days. Who’s going?
Hugh's e-mail arrives with the speed of a man who's been camping on his vox just waiting to pounce on something, anything - and then had to take a couple minutes to type out his reply.
---
RE: Meeting with the DoD - I WILL BE THERE. HUGH
Director Barnes wrote:
Received a fax from the Pentagon’s Imperial war planning office today - they want Task Force 815 to participate in the moment-by-moment breakdown of the Botane invasion. Kroger, Hamilton, Bauer, all of the military bigwigs will be there, some on our side, some not. They’re assuring security for the event, but after what happened with Dyer and Simmons, I’d take that with a grain of salt. I’d still like you all to go - PR aside, we have to at least try to get them to figure out that they need to change their tactics and that we’re not even close to as powerful as the Imperial Turai are. Meeting’s in two days. Who’s going?
---
Yes, there really is just the original quoted text in the message body. This is why people do not write e-mails to Hugh if they can help it.
Hunter's reply is longer, observes common formatting standards, and includes a number of different people they could meet with before the official meetings; folks who'd been sympathetic but had their hands tied by circumstances, and who might be in a position to do something.
"I will be going," Swims-the-Black's terse reply goes. "If only as backup for when the assassins come."
”Bauer’s presence makes me think that this isn’t some sort of massive setup,” Garrett’s reply reads, ”but I’m also going to be wearing my skinsuit - and carrying a pantaki. It’s up to you guys.”
”I’ll be staying behind to take care of Naloni, but stick it to them,” Ngawai replies. ”The blackout was shameful and they can’t get away with lying to those families. Make sure the ravilars get the word out about that.”
For the first time since the Gateway Research and Homeworld Defense Initiative was moved under the auspices of the US State Department, Task Force 815 gets to take advantage of some of the luxuries of working for the foreign diplomatic service as opposed to the military - when you’re summoned somewhere on urgent VIP business, you fly via private jet, not military transport. The US Air Force operated Gulfstream is a perfect shelter from the heat of the midday sun, and with the training squared away for the moment, Task Force 815 boards the plane for DC, and five hours later touches down on the nighttime tarmac at Dulles, not Andrews - yet another benefit.
What hasn’t changed is the convoy of SUVs waiting for the team at the hangar, driven by GRHDI agents in body armor, Turai skinsuits and carrying carbines. GRHDI’s small cadre of armed field agents have been earning their pay recently, protecting diplomats and officials on both Boranai and Whiirr, and while Narsai certainly is a nice posting, it’s still a place that everyone involved wishes they weren’t needed. Luggage is transferred from plane to SUV, people are transferred from plane to SUV, and the convoy stops briefly at the same high-end Arlington hotel that Angel has been staying in to check in and move luggage upstairs. Angel figured that they’d have to come to DC sooner rather than later to deal with the clusterfuck that Botane turned out to be, and he simply combined the errand with some other Kesh Holdings business. The hour is already late and the next day sure to be long, so everyone turns in early to get some rest.
The next day, bright and early, Task Force 815 files downstairs to the waiting GRHDI transport in their business best - a mix of varying degrees of Imperal and Narsai’i garb or military dress uniform now that they don’t have to play up their Narsai’i links for the cameras - and hit the streets of Arlington. Crass jokes about the last time the 815 were driving through Arlington float to everyone’s mind at one point or another, but the drive to the Pentagon is mercifully short enough that none of them are said - not even by Hugh. The SUVs pull up to the side of the enormous building where your military escorts are waiting - Marines, not Army - and let the team into the building. Inside, security measures have been turned up a notch, which means a trip through a millimeter-wave scanner on top of the usual metal detector. Garrett’s broken-down pantaki almost doesn’t make it through, but even when the guard actually picks up the upper half of the weapon, he doesn’t recognize it as the mass-produced Imperial sidearm that it really is and hands it right back to him.
Then it’s a long walk down a lot of boring hallways as the team receives looks varying from positive, even hopeful, to hateful enough that those who didn’t bring a weapon feel a little bit like that might have been a bad idea. Finally, your escorts lead you to a conference room and open the doors revealing a remarkably similar setup to the Congressional hearings from the last time the team was in DC - although this time the people on the other side aren’t nearly as friendly. Generals Hamilton and Kroger sit at the center, flanked on one side by Commandant Bauer, probably the only remotely friendly voice in the room, and by Bob Russell and, in a surprising but disturbing turn of events, Director of National Intelligence Dennis Blake. Four people that are members of a secret cabal that recently tried to have everyone on Task Force 815 killed now presiding over a meeting with you is not exactly a comforting situation, but there’s a lot different about their demeanor since you last saw them. Kroger looks like a shaken and haggard man - it’s an open question how much sleep he’s gotten in the last few days, Hamilton and Blake seem to nearly tremor with rage at the sight of the team, Bauer seems to be mostly directing his disdain at the generals seated next to him, while Russell nearly seems...apologetic?
Kroger gathers himself together and leans towards his microphone as the team takes your seats at the long table placed opposite the raised platform. “Thank you for coming, members of Task Force 815. Obviously, our efforts against the Imperium suffered a major setback recently, and as experts on the Imperium and their ways of waging war, we have asked you here today to consult on preventing such disasters from reoccuring. We have prepared our own analysis beforehand, which General Hamilton will explain. General?”
Hamilton stops glaring at you all long enough to lean forward to his own mic and toggle the first slide of a Powerpoint presentation. “First, inadequate intelligence. We lacked on-the-ground knowledge of the target, and ended up in the wrong part of Botane to achieve our goals - an apartment complex instead of the industrial districts - not to mention the lack of intelligence on the strengths and capabilities of the Imperium defense. Second, an underestimation of the brutality and savagery of the Turai. We expected that they would not bring heavy weapons to bear so close to their own people - we were wrong. Third, a lack of discipline and cohesiveness in our forces that only manifested itself after the initial Imperial strike. A better prepared and trained force might have reorganized, regrouped and attained the mission objectives instead of being routed. Fourth, and most importantly, an absence of civilian or allied support. We expected to be greeted as liberators and heroes by the local citizens, and to receive aid and support from our so-called allies, but neither occurred.”
Bauer’s harsh look down the row only grows harsher as Hamilton goes on, while Blake glares smugly at the team and Russell simply stares down at his water glass. “So,” Kroger picks up, “that is the rough outline of our report. We have early drafts prepared for you as well. Now, what input or comments do you have on our findings?”
It’s a good thing Hugh’s got a little hearing less on the right ear, because the devil on that shoulder is screaming at him to leap the table and throttle Hamilton and bash his skull open until the stupid leaks out. It’s one of the more extreme suggestions from his shouldersurfing agitator, but that does not immediately disqualify it. Over the course of his life, Hugh has often listened to that devil, so much so that they might as well go out for beer Friday nights, but right now Hugh’s trying really hard to be better than that, and despite all, he succeeds for the moment. Anger may be cathartic, but it is not productive, and Hugh knows that trying to “win” this conversation won’t change what happened. Accordingly, he is the model of calm and restraint when he plops down a handful of file folders on the conference table.
“Thank you, Sir,” Hugh begins. “I would like to address the first and fourth point of this report, respectively. The GRHDI offered up what intelligence we had on Botane from our Bashakra’i allies - which did not amount to much because they have found it difficult to establish a presence on that planet. Given this lack of intel, I believe our initial recommendation against this mission is understandable. We are also unaware of any attempt to reach out to the Bashakra’i to arrange for local support, so I do not understand how that was part of the expectation for this mission. On the topic of civilian support - with respect, Sir, in the entire strike force, there was not one soldier who had completed interpreter certification for Imperial. Our boys went in and started shooting. What were the civilians supposed to do at this point? Corporal Snyder’s team reported their immense difficulty making themselves understood to the Bashakra’i who rescued them, and that was with people who were actively trying to help them. In contrast to that, the Imperial forces, though completely surprised by this action, managed to scare up interpreters for English within hours of contact. They were better prepared than we were, Sir.”
Hunter opens the folder with some of his prepared notes. He's got the same surges of anger as Hugh, but is a lot more experienced in speaking civilly to people he despises. "Once again sirs, thank you for inviting us; I think we all want to come out of this with lessons and ultimately strategy and doctrine that will keep anything like this from happening again."
"As regards the third point, it might be charitable to observe that this might have been the first major engagement American forces had ever entered without air superiority. Or rather, this was the first engagement in which the enemy had air supremacy. Given our expected modes of warfighting, this represented a signifcant departure and a severely reduced capability to direct fire onto forward positions. In the main, however, I'd like to speak on the second point." Hunter takes a moment to pour himself a glass of water from the sweating pitcher on the table, and take a sip as that thought is hopefully processed without a conversational opportunity to respond reflexively.
"There are, of course, examples of wars being won without air superiority, mostly involving an enemy able to operate nearly invisibly, both among the population and in complex terrain. It goes without saying that the Vietnam War can be counted in this category. Now, with that war, there was and remains a vocal minority who believe that the United States could have won if it had not been 'handcuffed' by its rules of engagement and limited scope, and allowed to bring the full weight of its arsenal to bear on North Vietnam, up to and including nuclear strikes. There are, after all, precedents in the Roman method of counterinsurgency by 'making a desert and calling it peace.'" Hunter takes another sip of water.
"The Imperium will make a desert and call it peace. They have been doing so for a very long time. They also have more than a gladius at their disposal. They ARE the unlimited counterinsurgent, fighting without restraint. They do not feel bound by rules of engagement, diplomatic niceties, the Geneva convention, or even a particularly high regard for the lives of their citizens, at least compared to their priority of unity at all costs. This is not to say that they are completely unpredictable, or that they are not limited by their need to maintain unity and order with the threat of brute force and naked coercion. We are the most grave threat they have faced in recorded memory, and we can assume that they will accept collateral damage up to and including planet-wide devastation if it means inflicting a major defeat on us. To use an old line, sirs, they will destroy a planet in order to save it. After all, they have hundreds more."
As they head toward the SUVs, Angel is talking quietly on his vox to Erika. "Yes, entirely independent. Whole different structure. Lets say...North Carolina. Spread the love around a little. Fuck no, Fayetteville is in the middle of nowhere. Raleigh at least has the decency to have an airport and a decent downtown. Leave that one blank for now. Thanks Erika. Oh, and I thought of plates - could you see if 'GATEWAY' is available?"
---
Angel nods quietly to what Hunter says, which largely echo his own thoughts - his thoughts since the first days of the war.
"The Major is right. You all have been operating under the same assumption - and making the same mistakes - that the grunts we've been training out in the desert have been. That the United States military is top dog. That we have unquestioned air superiority. That a squad of infantry can call down artillery and rockets and gunship attacks - and operate free from worrying about those in return. To be blunt, this isn't true. We don't have air superiority. Hell, we don't even have air parity. We are technically outclassed. We are industrially outclassed. Our enemy is not the kind that heads to the hills after a pass from a Spectre puts the fear of god in them. Our enemy is the kind that glasses a populated area from orbit. The sooner you all stop pretending this is a conventional war - or even a war of equals - the better off we'll all be."
"Our enemy is powerful. They have the industrial might of dozens of planets behind them. They have technical superiority. They are insulated from the consequences of their errors by cowering behind their complete control of the media." That last statement might not be entirely Imperium specific. "We can win this. We must win this. But we can't win it pretending we're top dog, and this is going to be another Desert Storm."
He pauses for a moment, and then lets a bit of his accent slip into his speech. "And if you'd all stop thinking that we'll be 'greeted as liberators' everywhere we go, that'd help too. Dumbest phrase anyone ever thought up."
Luis, for his part, manages to limit himself to tight-lipped nods of acknowledgement of what the others are saying. That's an achievement, because what he wants to do is jump across the table and throttle the lot of the Narsai'i idiots. Or yell back at them about how dare they blame the troops they sent to what they'd been damn well warned was a death sentence for failing to turn it into some major victory.But that wouldn't really help why they're here, so for the moment he manages to just nod along as his eyes narrow at Kroger, Russell, Bauer, Hamilton, and Blake.
Arketta takes Luis’ hand and gives it a supporting squeeze - both for him, and to steel her nerves before she speaks up herself. She gives him a smile, and turns back to the panel, her hands nervously shuffling over her pages of hand-written glyphs. “Umm, I would like to first talk about the tactics?” She waits for a moment before continuing. Kroger and Hamilton don’t say anything, but also don’t look in her direction - something Simmons and Blake still haven’t done. Bauer, at least, seems interested. “What happened on Botane, from what the Bashakra’i have said, looks like it is how the Turai normally respond to a small attack of this size. The standard tactic is to contain the threat in one area, use artillery to disorganize - a sunball or accelerator strike - and then close the perimeter in force. That is why Task Force 815’s attacks have made attacking the local Turai ability to use sunballs or orbital accelerators our first goal, by capturing them or destroying them or by scattering and being hard to find. Next time, I recommend doing something like that.”
Arketta clears her throat, and puts down her hand-written notes, looking across the panel. “And there is something else. I think that you could have been treated like heroes and people that are there to give freedom, but you did not give the Botane’i a chance. Their first look at your soldiers was past the barrel of a gun, instead of showing them the freedom and ideas that you have. I know that it is true for me, that I thought that the Narsai’i were fighting because Narsai should be in charge of the Imperium, as the old predictions said about the Narsai’i, and I believed in that. But I was wrong, and I learned was that the freedom and ideas that the Narsai’i have about people and freedom is what is worth fighting for, and it is what I believe in. The Imperial people will believe in it too, but only if you tell them before you try to invade their homes. Thrax is telling the people that the Narsai’i are destroyers and trying to break the Imperium, and that is not true, we are trying to set it free, but the Narsai’i are not saying this, and you should be. Then you will be treated like heroes and people that are there to give freedom.”
Garrett nods. “Arketta just made both of my points for me, I think. The Turai have a clear procedure for dealing with the kind of attacks that we can muster at this point: surround and contain the attack, decapitate by a sunball or accelerator strike directly at the leaders, then move in and mop up. They apply this tactic without hesitation as to who is within the blast radius of their strikes. That’s not to say that they kill indiscriminately - by all accounts they used a very low-velocity accelerator shot in an attempt to kill as few of their own people as they could - but they will not hesitate to take the shot if it means some of their own citizens are in the way. For the Turai, we are not an invading army, we are a threat to the stability of the galaxy and an attempt to disrupt the supply network that keeps planets like Botane from turning into dessicated mausoleums, and the death of those civilians is a tragedy to be mourned, but also a necessary sacrifice to prevent the deaths of billions. In the eyes of the average Imperial citizen, a victory by Earth means planets will starve. Before we’re greeted as anything other than anarchist barbarians, we need to disprove that.”
“And all of this information would have saved lives if you had shared any of it before the invasion was launched,” Hamilton claims. He flips through his binder to a page and starts to read from his report. “‘Task Force 815 refused to cooperate and only gave us contradictory information to what they had already provided from their first - and only - visit to Botane, or information from unreliable sources that could not be verified. This lack of cooperation and proper intelligence lead directly to the disastrous result of Operation Slowdown.’” He looks back at the team. “The breaking of the first wave’s ranks is a direct result of the lack of intelligence sharing from GRHDI, and the report reflects that.”
Blake, who has spent the whole meeting so far fuming at the team, finally leans forward. “We would have been greeted as liberators - if your alien friends hadn’t poisoned the well ahead of us,” he spits. “Investigations are already proceeding as to how much our plans were leaked to the enemy, and by what channels. There is no other explanation for how fast the Imperium managed to respond to the attack, and believe me, we will find the traitors responsible.”
“And that will be appended to the report if anything is found,” Hamilton adds. “Furthermore, all future operations against Imperial targets will be fully classified, to prevent such leaks from happening in the future, and prevent statements from dissenting parties from affecting morale, and causing our troops to break ranks. We’re looking into psychological and attitude screenings for future invasion forces, as well.”
Zaef eyes Bauer, Kroger, and Russell(and his eyes narrow at the last one) for a few moments before arching an eyebrow and leaning forward and speaking to Hamilton.
"I believe I speak for all of 815 when I say that we have attempted to share as much information with you as possible, especially about Botane. We sent many reports. We tried to talk with officials. Everything we said then, we’ve just told you now." He hesitates, then continues with an even tone. “So, why are you only taking us seriously now?”
Zaef then turns to regard Blake specifically, meeting his acrid glare coolly. "That’s some accusation you’re making, there. I hope you can back that all up, since nearly 5,000 captured or killed troops doesn’t do anybody much good."
Punch him, throttle him, slap him with a glove, do something! Devil Hugh screams. And God does Hugh want to. Any number of “poetic justice” scenarios start playing in his head as he considers how to best pay unto Hamilton what that...that idiot has done to Hugh’s brothers in arms. But Hugh holds back. There’s something Hugh wants, more than any notions of revenge or momentary satisfaction. He wants to be a better man, for Rhea and Torega. And that means growing up, just a little. Let the devil keep screaming. Hugh’s more than his anger and his uniform, and this is where he proves it.
Hugh stands up quietly, straightens his pile of file folders one more time, then grabs it off the table and walks up to the big boys’ table. “I have prepared a report of my own, Sirs, that I wish to see reflected in the records,” he says, handing out a copy to each of the men. He hands an additional folder to Hamilton. “And this is a copy of the letter of resignation I filed yesterday. I can no longer in good conscience uphold my duties and commitments as an officer of the United States Army. As I have served out my service obligations and have no disciplinary actions pending against me at this time, I see no formal reason for my request to be denied.”
Hugh stands at attention and draws a sharp salute. “Good luck with your war, gentlemen,” he says. He then turns on the spot and marches towards the exit, stripping the rank insignia off his shoulders as he goes.
Commandant Bauer stands up. “Captain Verrill! Wait!”
“Just Mister now,” Hugh grumbles to himself, pushing the door open and walking out of the conference.
Zaef watches Verrill walk out the door and turns back to regard Hamilton and Blake with the expression of someone who just stepped on a bug with new shoes.
"Good job." Zaef's voice is brimming with disdain. "You just lost the one Army officer who actually won a battle in this war."
Luis shoves his chair out, and stands. "Of course they did!" he explodes. "They can't figure out what war they're fighting, and they think the best way to hide the blood on their hands is to blame the people who've been trying to tell them. Blame us, call us traitors for understanding how the enemy fights, blame the enemy for acting the way all their doctrine says they will, and blame the thousands of troops you sent to their deaths because you can't figure out what you're doing and are suspicious of anyone who seems to know. Blame anybody other than taking responsibility for this themselves." He takes a shuddering breath. "Well, once you've got enough blood of your own people on your hands and done enough damage to the war effort and the reputation of Narsai'i to listen, you know where to find us." He turns and walks to the door. "I just pray for us all you figure it out before there's Needleships over DC."
"Luis! Don't go," Arketta pleads.
"Yes, Mister Stanhill, wait," Bauer adds.
Luis turns, his expression pained but furious. "If this is going to be about the reasons Botane failed, then I'll stay, but if it's just another chance for them to call us traitors try and shift blame for the blood on their hands to us, then I could be back at Mesas Negras." He turns to Hamilton, Blake, and Kroger. "Which is it?"
"I believe that is what we are talking about," Blake responds. "But please, continue your outburst."
Bauer says nothing, but keeps his eyes on Luis. His glare is firm and not pleading, but it's obvious that his anger is not with Luis or the team.
Luis shakes his head. "What's to continue? You've made your point." He nods to Bauer. "Have a good afternoon, Commandant." Without another word, he turns and leaves the room.
Arketta stands up. "Excuse me," she says, and hustles out the door after Luis.
Out in the hallway, Hugh isn't anywhere to be seen, but his uniform coat is slung over the back of a chair, so he can't be that far. Luis is slumped against the wall, rubbing his hands against his face with nervous energy, and Arketta crouches in front of him.
"Come on, Luis, we have to go back inside," she whispers in Imperial.
“Why?” Luis asks. “They don’t want to listen to us, they just want us to sign off on their white wash.”
"And we don't have to, but if we walk out, then they win because they have proven that we're the ones who are unreasonable and not willing to work with them," Arketta replies. "They can say that we walked out and we quit."
“So I have to go back in there and let them call us traitors and murderers while they scheme how they’re going to get another few thousand of our guys killed and ruin whatever war effort is left after Botane?” Luis asks.
Arketta nods. "Pretty much," she replies with a forced smirk. "But maybe it's not that bad. We know that your leaders, the real ones, they support us. Bauer has said he has our backs. Maybe this is just the worst of it."
Luis turns to Arketta, his voice raw. “Do you really think that?”
Arketta shakes her head and smiles as her eyes start to dampen. "I don't know," she replies. "But...we have to try, right? We have to try, or this war is lost. We can't do this without the Narsai'i."
Luis looks down. “I don’t know that we can do it with them. Not like this.”
"But things can only get better if we try, right?" Arketta asks. "What about...what about the people that founded your people? It was not easy for them, right?"
Luis looks up and sighs. “No. No it wasn’t.” He takes a breath and blows it out. “All right, let’s get back in there.”
Arketta smiles and wraps her arms around Luis as he stands up. "Thank you, Luis. They might not be our people, but they're still...our people, right?"
“Yeah,” Luis says.
Arketta holds Luis' hand up to the door, and gives him a peck on the cheek before she lets him go. "Ready," she says. Luis opens the door and walks back in.
Angel gives the panel a thoughtful glance for a moment before speaking as well, his voice forcefully even. He redirects his gaze to the assembled generals and the Commandant, and the person speaking is very clearly Angel Kesh, who could buy and sell a fair portion of the United States.
"I would like to state on the record that the only reason I have not joined Captain Verrill is that I am contractually forbidden from doing so." He pauses for a moment, looking at Bauer, who at least seems to have a hint of sanity. "And I wish to amend my statement. I had assumed, charitably, that this was an exercise in ignorance, and while disappointing, that might be excusable. I can now only conclude that this invasion, and the conclusions of this panel, are an act of overt malice. The reasons for it I do not understand. Perhaps too many viewings of 'Red Dawn'. Or a deep seated hatred in Neo Classical buildings and the belief that we can only rebuild from a flat, glassy plane. But somewhere, deep in the souls of several members of this committee, seems to be the desire to lose this war."
"The proposal to psychologically screen troops, attempting to control any news of the war and shape its message, and a purge of those who voice disagreement rather than learn from experience is however a master stroke. It will prepare the citizens of the United States well for lives as a conquered people, once you prosecute this war to its pathetic, inevitable conclusion. It would prepare you well for careers as mid-level Imperial functionaries, were it not for the fact that once you are captured, they will fry every nerve in your body."
Two-fifths of the panel pointedly ignores Angel’s denunciations and Zaef’s scorn, only giving a cursory acknowledgement to Hugh’s resignation. Russell and Kroger continue being unable to actually look in the direction of the team, while Bauer carefully takes his seat again. After everything has calmed down, Hamilton leans forward to his mic again. “I can take it by your histrionics that you’re not going to sign off on the draft version we’ve presented so far?” he asks.
“I think you can,” Garrett replies dryly, Swims-the-Black a riot of red and orange next to him.
“Then we will submit this draft to the GRHDI for review and revision,” Hamilton says. His tone indicates exactly how much weight that review and revision will have. “I will remind you all that these proceedings and findings are classified, so try to avoid leaking them to the press.”
“Right back at you,” Garrett replies.
Blake has already stood up and started walking past the team on his way to the door as Hamilton takes the binder containing the report and puts it in his briefcase. “Then I believe we’re done here,” Hamilton says, and stands up to leave himself.
Most of the team can’t stand up fast enough either - Swims actually bumps the table a few feet over as he jumps up - but Bauer calls out as he stands up. “Wait.”
“Taking your sweet time, Henry,” Garrett remarks.
“Picking my battles, something I thought you all would appreciate after what just happened,” Bauer replies.
Russell, having picked himself up with a sigh, practically shuffles out of the room. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly as he walks past Garrett.
Kroger holds himself high still, like the head of the US Army should, but he still pauses next to Garrett. “Yes, tell Captain - Mister Verrill that...I should have done more.”
Garrett’s eyebrows go up at that. A whole lot of not very nice things roll through his mind, but he says none of them, and simply nods.
"I'll tell him," Luis says. "But are you going to do it next time?"
Kroger doesn’t reply, and walks out the door after Russell. ”I’m not sure how much good being sorry after allowing five-thousand Narsai’i to be condemned to the Arena will do,” Swims rumbles.
“Better than nothing,” Garrett replies. “So, what’s the news outside of the people who’ve tried to have us killed?”
“Botane’s sent shocks through the whole military,” Bauer replies as he steps off the panel. “There’s a lot of officers re-evaluating what they thought of the GRHDI, and you all specifically. There was a lot of skepticism, and the fact that you were all so far out there with your reports and actions created a lot of doubt that got turned into fear and listening to those calling you traitors, but now? That’s changing.”
“Well, that’s good at least,” Garrett replies.
“Not enough that we can press the advantage,” Bauer states. “They’re confused and thinking, but we push now, it’ll seem opportunistic. We need to wait for them to change their minds. Keep it up with the training. How’s the Army contingent taking things?”
“Not well,” Arketta replies. “But they are more sad for their fellow soldiers than angry at us.”
“Good,” Bauer replies. “The CIA and intelligence community are on the back foot on this, too. There’s still a lot of anger about the GRHDI stealing their candy on intelligence work on the other side of the Gateway, so don’t expect a lot of cooperation - but they might stop undercutting you quite so much. As for what’s going on in Congress or at the White House, Barnes would know better than I would. Anything else?”
punkey
