Changes Abound - Grummian Government Reformation [Semi-Open]

[Northrop-Grumman]

One television out of billions flickers on in a home to hear the following voice before the screen flashed on, “In our top story today…” A woman’s passive, expressionless face appears with carefully applied makeup to make her almost seem to be the perfection of human form. “…the recent exposure of corruption within the Grummian civil and religious governments has caused the downfall of many more today. Seven hundred fifty-three people within the Council of Seven Churches and various local counties, townships, and cities have been indicted. Charges include: incitement of violence, assault, accessories to murder, first-degree murder, bribery, extortion, and malfeasance in public office. There have been also numerous instances of resignations on both sides, but court officials have denied that these actions will be taken into account in their proceedings. Elsewhere, pressure is being placed upon the remaining implicated individuals to do the same; others are demanding the dismantling of the council; more are calling for a ruling from the Chair over enacting a clearer separation between church and state; while a small minority is claiming that the evidence has been fabricated.

“In our other story, Dr. Kenneth Hayes, candidate to the presidency of the Southern Baptist Convention and pastor of the First Baptist Church of Hawthorne, was taken into custody this morning during his morning service after police discovered the bodies of his family, beaten to death, at his home. Authorities say that a neighbor had called in to police when he had heard yelling and the sounds of crashing plates. Police arrived soon thereafter and found Hayes’ wife’s body in the kitchen and two children in the bedroom; a preliminary forensic investigation has discovered that the murder weapon found at the scene was a crowbar.”

A brief pause accompanied the next segment of the newscast as she turned towards the side camera and the adjacent viewscreen, which showed a younger man bundled up in a heavy winter coat and holding a wireless microphone out on the cavernous city streets of the capital city. “Now, we go to Jim with the latest on the state of martial law, Jim?”

“Thanks, Tracy. The lockdown on the nation intensified today as the army expanded its role in security. Checkpoints have been established on all roads leading into and out of the major cities and have been preventing non-essential traffic from being on the streets.” The streets behind him had surprisingly few cars, despite being in the middle of the day, but then one of the army’s main battle tanks clanked by, making a whole ton of racket with its metal treads and forcing the reporter to partially cover his ear and speak louder. “The subways and interregional rail have been not been as adversely affected and have been under constant armed surveillance and regular searching of everyone passing through. There have been few reports of altercations between the military and civilians.”

"Thank you, Jim." The camera promptly cut back to the anchorwoman and she did not miss a beat by picking up right where the man had left off with the next story. “Finally, the Office of the Vice Chairman has released information concerning an upcoming press conference that is scheduled for Monday morning, 9 a.m. The topic, however, has not yet been disclosed but sources say that it primarily focuses around the economic depression and the current wave of corruption being exposed within the churches and local government. We will bring you live coverage of the conference…”

-----------------------

Tightly clutching a black leather case that carried a datapad sandwiched between its two covers, Vice Chairman Shiran Naelthasser had returned from the accounting department, which for most nations was the equivalent to the Treasury, and handed the datapad over to the Chairman and Chairwoman with a courteous bow. “Everything you have requested is inside, which includes a draft of the communique you may wish to transmit.”

“Alright, thanks,” came the Chairman’s response as he grasped it, flipped open the cover, and started examining what exactly was being displayed upon the screen. “Seems manageable enough; not exactly a large amount of people we really need to contact.” He glanced up towards the elf. “Of course, the hard part is what they’ll ask for and if they’ll even be willing to talk about it. They will want something in return, ya know. They’re not going to do it out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“Your thoughts are the same as mine,” the Vice Chairman nodded in return and clasped his hands behind his back. “That is why I would recommend that I handle the negotiations in your stead and you handle the initial correspondence with the other states. I believe that best suits our strengths, does it not?” He knew full well that the Chairman wasn’t much of a speaker and would like to get straight to the point, and the Chairwoman, it would be her luck that negotiations would turn into a war or something of that nature.

“Works for me,” Chairman O’Neill said simply and shrugged. “I’ll get this polished up and sent out and you ought to head down to the old communications center and get that up and running. Let’s hope it still works.”

-----------------------

<:: Encrypted Transmission ::>
<:: Priority – Alpha ::>
<:: Sender: – Northrop-Grumman Central Command Datalink – Northrop-Grumman ::>
<:: Recipients: <Redacted> ::>

Throughout the prior years, the Corporation has been plagued by calamity after calamity with very little room for relief. Our capital city had been overrun and decimated by an invading force multiple times – the effects of which are still being dealt with to this day. An economic depression has mired any sort of recovery that we have planned from the attacks and continues to be a drain on our fiscal health. Religious strife and a near civil war have beset even the quietest of cities and have forced us to enact a state of martial law. Finally, there have been growing inefficiencies in a government structure, which had been designed to handle only about 75,000 people and is now the caretaker for nearly 17 billion.

The reconstruction costs for the capital city, the costs of maintaining some semblance of order within our cities, and the costs of trying to stimulate a massive, sluggish economy have taken an immense toll upon the Corporation and its budget. As it stands now, debt service comprises 32.1 percent of projected expenditures for the next fiscal year, which then affects the growing budget deficit of approximately 34 trillion dollars. Our plans for dealing with this problem involve, but, of course, are not limited to, a complete restructuring and streamlining of the current government (both national and local), raising income and other taxes, a gradual reduction in military forces as current servicemen retire, and the sale of unprofitable segments of corporate-owned businesses. Unfortunately, with the economic situation being what it currently is, the above actions will not close the budget deficit gap as much as would be preferred without bondholders coming to an agreement with us to significantly restructure our debt. Without assistance in relieving this weight, we may be forced to partially default on our debt; it is something we would rather not do, but in the event where expenditures and revenues reach the point where the needs of the citizenry cannot be met, it may have to be done.

We encourage all major bondholders to contact us as soon as possible so that we may discuss the issue and come to a mutual agreement on the best plan to move forward.

Respectfully,

Jonathan O’Neill
Chairman, Chief Executive Officer, and President

Siri O’Neill
Chairwoman

Shiran Naelthasser
Vice Chairman, Chief Operating Officer, and Vice President

<:: Text Ended ::>
<:: Transmission Sent ::>

-----------------------

OOC: I know this is interesting timing, but I have had this planned for about 6 years now, so I’m not intending on riding on the coattails of the recent debt crap going on in the U.S.

Anyway, getting back to the thread, if you have regularly interacted with me in the past on a favorable basis, you’re welcome to be a part of this. If I really don’t know you or if our interactions have been less than pleasant, then that’s probably not going to happen. If you want to do anything besides reactions to whatever I’m doing (this goes for everyone) such as taking part of the debt talks, please shoot me a telegram saying so to give me a heads up. This can get a little complicated so I’d like to limit the chaos.

Also, if you have any questions about what’s going on in NG, send me a telegram for that too so I can clarify anything.

Finally, this thread is basically a continuation of this one: viewtopic.php?f=4&t=89 but I didn’t feel like continuing on from the end of that one because who would actually join after so long. Plus, it’s not technically required reading for this thread.

[Menelmacar]

The news out of the Grummian state was taken in Menelmacar more or less in stride. While Menelmacar -- and Menelmacari -- had long been holders of considerable amounts of Grummian public debt, the decline in public security and fiscal solvency there had been a long time in the making. Menelmacari investors were notoriously long-viewed and while Grummian bonds declined, and at least one Menelmacari rating agency further cut the Conglomeration's rating, the likely Grummian default had already been largely priced into the market. Positive factors elsewhere, in fact, led to the debt markets in Menelmacar being somewhat up overall on the day.

This was not to suggest, of course, that the Imperial government was idle.

By the hand of Lady Serindë nos Eärendil, Prefect of Trade, at Vinyatírion the Eternal, capital of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar, on this the 27th day of Yávië in the 104th year of the 221st long-year of Vinyatírion, to Jonathan and Siri O'Neill, Chairman and Chairwoman of the Conglomeration of Northrop-Grumman, greetings:

We have indeed watched events in Northrop-Grumman with concern for some time, and yet we are confident that, with the right measures taken to improve matters there are better days ahead for your people. It is clearly in the interests of Menelmacari and Grummians alike to see the Conglomeration to a point where it can both pay its bills and provide a climate for the prosperity and security of its people.

We would stridently caution against an increase in taxes as part of an austerity package. There is already very little liquidity in the Grummian private sector and to draw further from it would drain the pool of capital with which your people will rebuild their prosperity -- and with it your revenues. Beyond a point gvernment cannot create economic strength on its own. That comes from the citizenry, and government is best when it creates a climate that encourages and eases the people's efforts.

Beyond that your proposal, in broad terms, is a strong one, and is a good first step in the right direction. We are open to nearly any reasonable possibility or proposal for reforming Grummian government and settling or restructuring Grummian debts to the Menelmacari government and people, and we are certainly open to whatever help and expertise we can provide in seeing the process through, though, as always, the Enemy is in the details. I look forward to the opportunity to meet with you to further discuss your ideas.

May no Shadow fall upon your lands,
Lady Serindë nos Eärendil
Prefect of Trade
Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar

[Northrop-Grumman]

<:: Encrypted Transmission ::>
<:: Priority – Alpha ::>
<:: Sender: – Northrop-Grumman Central Command Datalink – Northrop-Grumman ::>
<:: Recipient: Lady Serindë nos Eärendil – Vinyatirion – Menelmacar ::>

We are exceptionally grateful for your prompt response to our initial communiqué and would indeed be honored to have Menelmacari participation in these negotiations. Your guidance in helping to resolve this situation would be invaluable. In addition, while the primary focus would revolve around alleviating our debt issues, we would be quite open to deliberate over our government restructuring; another viewpoint could prove to be beneficial for us.

Naturally, in-person conversation regarding these matters would be infeasible because of the overwhelming expenses involved and the act of tightening our own belts would serve to better serve our point when we reveal such to our citizenry. Likewise, written communication does not allow for the rapid responses that would be needed to solve this issue in a timely manner. Therefore, it would be preferable to allow for a video conference of sorts, which would deal with the downsides of the aforementioned methods.

At your earliest convenience, I shall be available to discuss these matters.

Sincerely,
Shiran Naelthasser
Vice Chairman, Chief Operating Officer, and Vice President

<:: Text Ended ::>
<:: Transmission Sent ::>

-----------------------

The old telecommunications center was buried deep within the capital complex and had been rarely used for quite a number of decades. It had survived the first iteration of the capital building as it had been constructed deep underground and it continued to survive the second during the ongoing deconstruction over these past several years. The building itself had been damaged in the aforementioned battle, losing several of its ominous, battleship-grey towers and suffering extensive damage throughout its superstructure. But here below ground-level, it had been barely touched. Old monochrome terminals still adorned the walls and in the telecom center in particular, it still contained the spring-loaded keyboards of old, still having that loud clackety-clack whenever a key was pressed. Several CRT monitors hung from the ceiling and the walls surrounding a simplistic chair, bolted to the floor in the center.

The Vice Chairman, continuing to be his incredibly drab self, wearing his usual dull greyish robes, grabbed the plastic covering that protected all of the computers and monitors in the room and pulled it off with a slight flourish, scattering dust into every corner of the room. Then he silently slid into the seat and began setting up the system to allow for the connection to be established between the potential participants and to adjust the various cameras and monitors to allow for a clear video feed of him whenever the negotiations started. Once that was done, the long, golden-haired Noldo relaxed and waited for the eventual response.

[Roania]

FROM THE DESK OF ECANUS CHERUV, VICEROY OF THE SOLAR DOMINIONS OF HER MOST RADIANT MAJESTY,


I am sure I do not need to tell you that defaulting on your debts to us will have very damaging effects on your ability to do further business with us. As well, my economists suggest that even a default on all sovereign debts would push off the trouble only another three or four cycles.

I am prepared to authorize a bond from my own treasury reserves to your government to help maintain order in Northrop-Grummian, and would like to remind you that without a functioning government, there is no hope for the population. As the great sage said, 'Without the farmer, whither the herd?' Sage words, indeed.

Our proposed plan to alleviate your budgetary shortfall is simple. We would recommend a balanced package of increased revenue across the board, including income tax rises, tariffs on imported goods, and a national sales tax on all exchanges, especially of intellectual property and non-material goods. Infrastructure spending is also urgently required; While your stargate is well maintained, our reports indicate that many of your starports for the arrival of shipborne cargo are poorly connected to national transit systems for further travel.

Once again, though, I must stress that as tolerant as I may be, Her Majesty's Government would look very poorly on an attempt or threat to default on the money we have loaned you. Payment of interest is expected as usual, though I am prepared to negotiate a decrease.

Brothers in the Light,

Ecanus Cheruv

[Northrop-Grumman]

<:: Encrypted Transmission ::>
<:: Priority – Alpha ::>
<:: Sender: – Northrop-Grumman Central Command Datalink – Northrop-Grumman ::>
<:: Recipient: Ecanus Cheruv – Darsalin Base – Roania ::>

We fully understand the consequences that would result from a complete default of our debt and be assured that we have no desires to purposefully do so, unless forced to. It was our intention to keep our bondholders apprised of the situation at hand and to make it quite clear that if a resolution is not made that a default, despite being undesirable, would then become a reality. We make no threats, only statements of fact.

As for your recommendations to resolve the budget deficit, we too have brought forth and contemplated a majority of them, but the problem persists in that we must increase revenue and decrease expenditures, while also spurring economic activity. A few of these, especially the national sales tax and general income tax increases, while potentially beneficial in increasing revenues would not aid our economic stagnation in any meaningful way and may very well make it worse. However, an income tax increase upon the wealthiest of citizens and tariffs on imported goods that do not fall under free trade agreements may help alleviate these budgetary concerns while not being a detriment to the nation. Furthermore, infrastructure spending has always been a mainstay of our stimulus plans so your concerns regarding our star ports could be a part of this.

Nevertheless, we welcome your continued support and willingness to help us resolve this situation and would encourage your further participation in these talks.

Respectfully,
Shiran Naelthasser
Vice Chairman, Chief Operating Officer, and Vice President

<:: Text Ended ::>
<:: Transmission Sent ::>

[Roania]

Ecanus paced back and forth in his office. He had just gotten an answer by courier from Home which had told him exactly what he had not wanted to hear. RIFOC (the Radiant Imperial Financial Outreach Commission) refused point-blank to invest any more government money into Grummian bonds, citing the barely controlled religious chaos and the high unemployment rate in that state. Private investors were also very leery of getting involved there, but he thought he may be able to cajole a few local martians into his fund.

Of course, Home would doubtless demand a lot from the Grummians for their money. Control over utilities, investment chances, the conversion of the financial system, a complete and total breach between church and state with church clearly winding up broken and subordinated... all Ecanus wanted was a few kickbacks from his new Grummian friends for his assistance.

[Tarasovka]

TARASKOVYAN EMPIRE
FOREIGN AFFAIRS MINISTRY

His Excellency Alexei Shen-Shoturskiy, Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Taraskovyan Empire, His Grace the Duke of Var-Vilena and Southern Aphyr et al.
to
His Excellency Shiran Naelthasser, Vice Chairman, Chief Operating Officer, and Vice President of the Northrop-Grumman Corporation

Concerning: Economic restructuring



Your Excellency,

It is with much interest that Vigvar has regarded your latest statements pertaining to the economic situation in the Corporation, a situation that the Taraskovyan Empire has been monitoring due to the various State and Private interests intermingled in this complicated knot. The Taraskovyan Empire, and this goes without saying, is ready to offer assistance to redress the economic situation in the Corporation through a variety of means.

Your Excellency shall find enclosed with the present missive a rough brief draft of Corporate economic problems identified by Taraskovyan specialists, accompanied by what the Taraskovyan Empire can do to assist, what the Corporation and the Empire can do to increase the interest of private Taraskovyan commercial actors to invest into the Corporation and what the favourable outcomes for all parties involved would be. This brief document, barely half a hundred pages in length, is of course simply a basis for much further and detailed negotiations between the Empire, the Corporation and the possible involvement of major Taraskovyan private interests.

May the Holy Theotokos watch over Taraskovya and the Corporation,

Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Taraskovyan Empire
Alexei Shen-Shoturskiy
Duke of Var-Vilena and Southern Aphyr et al.

[Midlonia]

The pound coin span on its axis after the fingers flicked it away. Leaning down and watching it was the Lord of the Treasury, a man who was, oddly enough, a Lord himself. Lord Percival Bolton was one of 8 members of the House of Lords who served in the ministerial posts of government, a tradition that stretched back to goodness knows when was to always have a balancing group of Lords within the mostly Commons-held posts of the executive of Government. He was an old, wisened man with a bald head but whisps of hair around the very edges of his temples. Kindly yet watery eyes peered at the coin as it span and he spoke softly with a voice that could, if provoked, break into a terrifying bark if he were pushed.

“So, why was this not brought to our attention sooner?” Lord Bolton said to the man sat opposite him as the coin finally began to spin on it’s side, and eventually quietened with a slight hum and rattle.

Opposite him, lifting a porcelin cup of tea to his lips, was George Hillcrest. His goatee and sharp eyes as well as his relative youth (he was 42, to the Lord’s 76) was a complete contrast to the elderly lord’s. Hillcrest was in charge of the Foreign, Greater Kingdom, and Economics ministry, a first attempt at a “super ministry” which aided the direction of Midlonian investment, and negotiated trade treaties with the blessing of the Treasury.

“Well, quite simply it fell between the stools.” Hillcrest said as he took a sip of tea. “The situation within the Corporation had always been bad, but it seems they were hiding the true extent of this from both investors, and other governments. In effect they simply cooked the books and threw a curtain over the whole thing, hoping nobody would notice when the levee started to break.”

“And now they want us to play the little boy sticking the finger in to stop the flood?” Bolton snorted a little before helping himself to a glass of deep, vintage Whiskey. “Have the banks come forward with their approximate debt holdings? I’ve got ours here... somewhere.” he leafed a couple of pieces of paper around before pulling it free of a chaotic looking pile. “Yes, here we are... The Government holds around five trillion in debts.”

“I have the bank details here...” Hillcrest lifted the small data pad from his lap and tapped it before showing it to the Lord. “It’s around eight in total. They invested heavily after the signing of the treaties, the higher interest rates attracted them, as did the new market. If they default, it would plunge us back into the recession we’ve only just gotten out of in the last two quarters.”

“So in all we hold nearly 12 trillion in debt?” Bolton sighed and rubbed his forehead. “This makes it very hard, and gives us and them little options.”

“With the government so hard pressed over there, it makes us hard pressed here, they cannot really default, as you say. But there are options open to them as they are not pegged to a group currency, as we had difficulties with at times when we tried to run the Midlonian pound to various commodities standards.” Hillcrest replied with a thoughtful shrug. “We should really have our own proposal for debt restructuring to place on the table for this matter.”

“We could use it as an opportunity for the liberation of people, after all the government structure is very nationally focused.” Lord Bolton whispered as he took another sip of his drink. “It’s very harsh and very much in the hands of the Chairman and Chairwoman. Perhaps a government restructure, a period of quantative easing, and the offer to provide certain services in exchange for the securing of our debt being repaid eventually?”

“That would have been my own thoughts, yes. But to only push for essential reform, and the lifting of the martial law, after all this situation is causing economic damage to the tune of about 3 billion a day in lost trade due to the over-reaction.” George replied as he sipped his tea again. “We can soon offer assistance with security measures around their borders...” he began to venture.

“We cannot afford that, not with rising tensions elsewhere in the world. We can deploy in strength to two crisis at most, and since the communications went down for a day or so with that attack in Arda... the MoD has gone for that as its crisis to watch, not some internal grummian matter.” Bolton said with a slightly weary tone to it. “So that and the Commonwealth are all we’re allowed to go for. The rest... will have to wait. So, no offer in that direction, and I severely doubt the PMCs we have available to offer would be able to do the job, as much as they’d want to, no doubt. Especially for no real payment.”

“We’re only authorized to deal with the debt restructure and government form anyway, I suppose. But one can dream.” George replied before setting the cup down with a soft clink of porcelin. “So, we are somewhat in agreement for a change?”

“On this matter.”

-------------------------------



Sir and Madam,

The Greater Kingdom Government will attend the talks on the restructure of Grummian Debt, until the full exposure of the debt to each state, and the effect a default would have on the sol-wide economy we will refrain from suggestions as to what to do at this time, until the meting commences. We hope this will allow us to come forward with a solid, agreeable proposal to the agreement of both parties, and those also affected by Grummian debt exposure.

Yours sincerely,

The Right Honourable George Hillcrest

[Scolopendra]

A Small Topside Cafe

Some eateries have flowerful, fancy names. Others have classy, understated names. It's all about self-expression or, in the minds of the more cynically capitalistic, branding. This street-side coffee shop with its big blue parasols to shade the diners from the artificial suns of Titan and its furniture notable for being fashioned out of drawn steel tubing curled into whimsical patterns and upholstered with comfortable and stylish if durable padding, has an ironic name. At least, most people confuse it for irony. It's actually parody. The proprietor, a expatriate from the Dominion, is having a little bit of fun at the expense of the utilitarianism of her adopted country. Nevertheless, the food is good, the coffee better--actually healthily competing with kawfee and paroo, unlike most places around these parts--and the humor is cheery, so A Small Topside Cafe does not lack for custom.

Being strategically located near the Government Quarter-Arc, on the circumference of the boundary of the circular Central Park, a lot of that custom consists of both the uniformed personnel of the Executive Unit and the non-uniformed personnel of the Legislative Unit. In more cynically political countries, this is where networking happens. In the carefully-cultured faux innocence of the Segments, however, it's where friends just meet and occasionally open the hangar doors as countrymen working together to run the place should. It's not a very secure place, of course, so it's also a popular spot for reporters aiming for a scoop. That is usually kept in mind.

Usually.

"Are you sure this is the best place to bring it up?" A pale woman with a rounded yet vaguely androgynous face, bisected by narrow elliptical glasses, glances around but otherwise does her best to look plain. Such is something she has been gifted with a genetic predisposition towards--average complexion, nondescript straight brown hair combed back then cut at the nape of her neck, hazel eyes--and her medium blue uniform simply helps her blend in even more.

"It's not a matter of national security, Goldy," replies someone much more cheery in every way, ranging from pastel green coloration to large, emotive eyes. Being a mechanoid dabbling around in a physical society frees one from the bounds of mere biology, and this quadrupedal sort has clearly decided to run with the most recent fad to hit the YutLink. That she wears a uniform of the same color and analogous cut to the nervous woman doesn't exactly help her blend in, especially once a narwhal-like horn in her forehead glows with a nebula of special effects when she takes a bite of the salad she ordered to power her avatar's matter-conversion reactor.

"This is true," replies a man dressed in a business suit. Prone to smiling, his features match the broad ethnic range of his name, which is well known around these parts as Heng-suan Hollaczek. He's the chairman of the People's Money Committee, the Legislative Unit's budget board. With narrow eyes, light skin, thin black eyebrows and short black hair, he's a very good match for the mixed-ethnic plurality that makes up the Segments several generations post-Break. Chair-PMCs are always well-known, since they're usually watched by hawks by everyone with an interest in the governance of the Segments. Given public indoctrination, that's quite a few people. Heng just happens to be one of the few in recent memory that actually bucks the trend of being the class math nerd. This makes people watch him harder, trusting charismatics less as they do, which is a challenge he relishes. Match made in Heaven, really. "After all, if it gets as far as me everyone will hear about it anyway." He turns his gaze meaningfully towards 'Goldy' with a smirk nearly worthy of Magnus Hesche. "Will it?"

"Ahem." 'Goldy'--the nameplate on her right breast reads 'TOURNEUR'--tugs her collar slightly with one finger, making the three silver triangles marking her as an Advisor glint just a bit more obviously. "That's not entirely certain. As you know, we've been investing less and less in Northrup-Grumman over the years, and recently any purchases have been targeted towards infrastructure projects that we've designated as 'charity' in our budget. Most of our 'exposure' is on our books as a hundred-percent loss anyway, which has curtailed such action even further."

"And the other shoe?" the obvious mechanoid--though not because she's made of metal--brushes some long yellow locks out from in front of her eyes.

"The other shoe is that we're still exposed on the books to long-term bonds bought when they had less trouble. Since this was back during their Mars expansion and we wanted to encourage getting stability there, we have a lot of it. To forgive it, we'd go well past maxing out our contingency budget. We'd have to borrow from other Sections' contingency budgets, or even..." She pauses, then says what she's thinking like a cat trying to squeeze under a door. "Hit the General Fund."

"Well, that is certainly is rather provocative, isn't it?" The green one can't help but smile, even if it is with good nature and good humor. Her nametag reads 'R-CHERRY,' and her rank in the government is marked equally to Tourneur's. "Especially now, with worries being what they are."

"Well, that's the income end of the equation," Heng says, scratching his chin. "What about expenditures? I'm sure they own some of our debt." He turns his eyes to the mechanoid. "What if we accelerate payment on that, Cherry?"

"Hmm." The mechanoid puts one broad, flat 'foot' on the table, rubbing her cheek with the other. "That we can scale to our own contingency budget, though then that limits our options in other non-military humanitarian efforts. Any new humanitarian crises would have to be distinctly military, at least as far as money's concerned, and I'd have to talk with Shri about that."

"General Nikunj seems a sweet sort," notes the chairman, "do you really think she'd say no?"

"She would definitely be sympathetic," Tourneur cuts in. "The thing is that while the Foot-to-Ass has the biggest contingency budget, it's also got the biggest contingency budget because she has to worry about funding potential military operations. Which are quite expensive. And there are the recent... worries."

"Yes, them." Heng frowns to himself. "Well, deficits are always hard to get through the PMC, even if the General Fund is hardly dented. Hell, the General Fund is basically a black hole--it's where money goes to die." He has the common courtesy to look around sheepishly after blurting his particular bit of blasphemy; if anyone was listening, they also have the common courtesy to not obviously notice. He can be forgiven thinking heretical economic thoughts so long as he remembers who cuts his paycheck. "I can at least mention it in the next Committee meeting and get the debate started. It's going to be slow going, though... and speaking of humanitarianism, are we planning on sending anything?"

"Only upon request," 'Goldy' replies quietly. "There is the NDA to consider. This is arguably an internal affair of theirs. While I doubt they'd reject our good-natured meddling, they do have sufficient resources to cover for one another. Our resources are probably better spent handling the fiscal side of things."

"Less sexy," the chairman admits.

"Oh, sure," Cherry says cheerily, "but their problem is mostly financial right now so it's where we could do the most good. Goldy, you can tap up to fifty percent of the Internal Trade Section's contingency budget if need be; right now our market trends are good enough that we probably won't be needing it."

"Thanks, Cherry." The plain woman smiles. "Now that I think about it, I'll look at the numbers and see if we can accelerate payments to the Grummians while slowing their repayment schedule on our bonds. I'll try to make it work the best for them and then it'll be up to me and Kraisee to convince them to publicize it as a 'renegotiation' so it doesn't appear as a functional default in the markets."

"And if they ask for better terms?" Hollaczek raises an eyebrow. "I'm not saying they'll reject charity--it's basically what they're asking for--but they may think we're holding back. It's a possibility we have to think of."

"Well, then," Tourneur says with a slight frown, "it becomes your problem since I'm going to tap out as much as I can."

* - * - *

Quite A Distance Above, But Still Astronomically Very Near, Northrop-Grumman

In a previous life, it was a sturdily-built civilian tramp freighter of the kind usually found on regular Interstel routes a few years back. That previous life ended in a collision incident which, while not a hull loss, wasn't worth repairing and then returning to service considering operating costs compared to a more advanced new hull, so it was put on the market and snapped up by some individuals with more money than concern for enterprise. In its current life, it is a paramilitarized bulk hauler currently filled to the gunwales with a small fraction of a nation's semi-illegal charity. What makes them semi-illegal are the crossed lances on the side of the hull which have become the agreed-upon mark of a host of Knights-Errant Militant, which differ from other Knights-Errant primarily in that the Militant were the first kind to show up and they're more willing to beat heads in order to do the right thing.

Luckily, this is not a situation where beating heads should be necessary.

On the utilitarian but spotlessly-maintained bridge--already a marked improvement from its Interstel days--a stern-looking woman wearing a thoroughly anachronistic coif of bronze-looking metal rings that disappears under a bright white tunic. On the tunic, emblazoned in scarlet, is the silhouette of a sword backed by bird's wings that emerge from the crossguard, and from the tips of the wings hang the cups of a scale. The coif is apparently the only mail she wears, since the red sleeves that emerge from under the tunic are unarmored. Leaning forward, she presses a button next to a monitor and begins the opening she prepared on the distort-drive trip here:

"Kind gentlefolk,

"I am Dame Lewis, master of the Winged Justice Order-Militant, Bright Morning chapter. My company of knights and I stand ready to provide humanitarian and security aid at your need and under your coordination. Please direct us to where we may be of most use.

"Please respond, over."

Then she waits, hands folded patiently behind her back.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

“Nothing good ever comes of mixing politics and religion.”

“Perhaps, but some of what seems to be going on over there far surpasses what one might expect from some upheaval. I mean, my god – a pastor beating his family to death? Surely that isn’t an everyday occurrence.”

“Unless he’s being framed.”

“True … there is that, especially with what’s going on. There’s a lot of really nasty sentiment going around.”

“It isn’t unheard of. Good tactic, if a bit … uncouth.”

“…”

“Well, it is if you really want to stir people up against a group. Atrocities never fail to do the trick, if you have the stomach for them.”

“I think what is slightly more disturbing are the reports of military and civilian incidents. When a situation reaches that point, there’s a real problem.”

The talk had been going on for some time in the comfortable meeting room in the main offices of the Dominion, with varying opinions and input as to the situation unfolding in their ally’s nation. Any time a partnered state was in trouble, there was concern. Stability had always been a priority across the board, and where one suffered, another could be affected as well down the road. It was in everyone’s best interest to assist where one could. The problem lay in how best to go about it.

“Directly interfering might be seen as a breach in our NDA alliance charter, depending on how it’s viewed,” noted Fabian Mancuso, via vidlink from Unity Island. “Of course, doing nothing would reflect even more poorly.”

“I have a thought.”

All eyes turned expectantly to Bernardo di Medici, Dominion Minister of Trade. He’d steered them on very profitable course throughout his career, and as the years had gradually passed, he had shown no sign of his skills deteriorating. If anything, they’d gotten keener.

“Well, part of the problem is employment, yes? As is the cost of rebuilding in many areas. What if we were to front some corporations who could hire locals, at least temporarily depending on need, and what sorts of arrangements could be made for any longer term, to do just that? We could purchase the materials locally to assist as well. It could encourage local producers, and there could be a plethora of benefits that could come of such an arrangement, if allowed.”

“I’ll be damned. That’s a novel sort of approach, Bernardo. I believe we have the funds to assist, yes?” Nathicana asked, looking to the Minister of Finance, Donatello Calfa.

The old man adjusts his glasses, looking over the datapad he has been perusing. “Depending on the scope, we may have. And depending on the long term cost of the increased military activity we’ve been seeing. Initially at least, I see no problems. If need be, we might even be able to reach out through the Trade Network Association for assistance with similar activities, and of course to our allies in the NDA. Whether through funding or other actions, I’m sure they at least would be more than willing to assist the Grummians.”

“Agreed. Even with some of the upset within the alliance, and the somewhat unclear direction we as a group are heading, our members have always been good to support one another when asked,” Mancuso said, nodding thoughtfully.

“Which brings up another point we may be able to assist with, if allowed,” Cesare Calabrese, Dominion Chancellor interjected, his brows drawn together in a slight frown. “Security. They’re having a hard time paying anyone and everyone it seems, and the situation is clearly heating up. I can’t say they would accept, but there is always the option of diverting some of the joint defense force who could operate under Grummian oversight. There is precedent with Iraqstan, and that was a more volatile situation than this at the time it was done.”

Concerned looks amongst the group follow as they pondered the possible implications.

“The offer ought to be made in any case. It isn’t as though we would force the issue. And it might offer the chance to slip in some agents to do a bit more digging, and see what’s really going on over there,” Antonio Pellegrino said finally, breaking the silence. As Minister of Central Intel, he was of course, always looking for an angle. “I believe there is more going on than meets the eye, and it is likely rather important we figure out what it is – whether it is to alert Grummian leadership, if they are unaware, or to spin some damage control for ourselves later on if it turns out they’re involved in some of the less savory aspects.”

That was another point that caused concern. Several points, in fact, and the heavy silence around the table as they again considered the possible ramifications was telling.

“We need to be very careful on that point, Toni. Privately, I know we all know everyone keeps tabs on everyone else, but the PR damage that could result from a slip, not to mention the potential fallout with their leadership … granted, I realize I’m just vocalizing what everyone is thinking right now, but it needs to be said.” Evangelista Ravanelli, Minister of Public Relations, was cautious as ever, her expression grim.

“Granted. In the meantime Bernardo, I expect our own investors and entities already involved to hold steady, as best they can, and if nothing else, grant the Grummians some time. It’s clear they’re going to need all the help they can get. Don, you may need to adjust those figures to account for any ‘encouragement’ we need to offer in that regard. However we manage it, we are going to help, if allowed.” This was said with an air of finality by the Imperatrice. “Let’s work to make it so.”

<:: Encrypted Transmission ::>
<:: Priority – Alpha ::>
<:: Sender: – DLN State Offices Main Hub – Devras, Dominion ::>
<:: Recipients: <Jonathan O’Neill/Siri O’Neill/Shiran Naelthasser> ::>

We have seen the events unfolding in your fair nation with growing concern for some time, without knowing quite what to do about it, especially given the respect we have always held for our allies sovereign rights, and our tradition of non-interference save when requested. We also realize that some problems cannot be solved simply by throwing money at them, and the complex situation that now exists in Northrop-Grumman seems to prove that point.

Here then is our proposal to assist, with the assurance that any and all activity thus proposed would work under Grummian oversight, and end when you deem it necessary.

First, the offer of assistance with security. As you well know, the joint forces of the NDA have provided peacekeeping assistance within other allied states, and have performed well, and with proper restraint. Realizing the state of the council is in flux, and further realizing that our allies have always been supportive of one another, and desirous of stability, we are taking the initiative in making the offer, and if accepted, will make sure the others are aware, and approve as needed. The number will be up to you, within reason, of course, and all costs associated with it will be taken care of by ourselves, and the general fund so as not to burden you further.

Second, a two-pronged offer of assistance both with rebuilding your infrastructure and other assorted needs, and assisting with employment. We would like to offer the services of some of our own corporations who specialize in such activities. The idea is that they would front the efforts, and hire locally within your nation, for the duration of the projects, and purchase supplies on the same basis. It is hoped this will help in revitalizing your economy, and allow it to eventually stabilize. It is understood that as this happens, our presence there would at some point become more problematic than helpful, given the usual competition for markets, at which time, dependent on your needs, we would be willing to structure a gradual withdrawal. We have a compensation plan for our corporations put together so that neither party needs be unnecessarily deprived, or at least it is to be hoped, during such a transition, as your own people are able to take back control and again, hopefully, run at a profit.

In addition, our investors are being asked to hold the line and cooperate with you as best they can in the interim. Granted, there is only so much we can do in that direction, but incentives will be offered, with the understanding that the situation in Northop-Grumman is key in their continuance. If the situation does not improve within a reasonable timeframe, we will be unable to ask them to continue to take the losses, and we will be unable to continue to help compensate for them. It is our hope that will not become a problem.

As for the government restructuring, our assistance is always available so far as advising and suggested ideas go. We well know the difficulties inherent in successfully managing large populations, and it is hoped that some relief in other areas will assist as well. People who are employed, and housed, and fed tend to create less problems for those ruling them, after all.

With Respect, and a sincere hope that your nation will regain its stability under your steadfast leadership,

--Nathicana D’Aquisto, Dread Lady and First Imperatrice of the Dominion

[Northrop-Grumman]

<:: Encrypted Transmission ::>
<:: Priority – Alpha ::>
<:: Sender: – Northrop-Grumman Central Command Datalink – Northrop-Grumman ::>
<:: Recipient: Alexei Shen-Shoturskiy – Vigvar – Taraskovya ::>

Your prompt response and offer of assistance to address our concerns is highly appreciated. I have reviewed the extensive report that had accompanied your earlier communiqué and find it most interesting. In light of this, I would gladly welcome you to expand upon it in greater detail during the upcoming conference as it could provide better insight into the Corporation’s problems and may spark further ideas on how to resolve the debt issue.

Sincerely,
Shiran Naelthasser
Vice Chairman, Chief Operating Officer, and Vice President

<:: Text Ended ::>
<:: Transmission Sent ::>

-----------------------

<:: Encrypted Transmission ::>
<:: Priority – Alpha ::>
<:: Sender: – Northrop-Grumman Central Command Datalink – Northrop-Grumman ::>
<:: Recipient: George Hillcrest – Swadlincote – Midlonia ::>

Thank you for your willingness to negotiate with us during this time of turmoil that we face. We understand your concerns about the effects that a Grummian default would have upon the Greater Kingdom and those surrounding it and your reluctance to provide any recommendations or proposals without first contemplating its consequences. Careful deliberations are wise in these matters, especially when such problems can affect those beyond our respective borders.

Regardless, we welcome your participation in the conference and wait with interest what the Greater Kingdom will bring to the table.

Respectfully,
Shiran Naelthasser
Vice Chairman, Chief Operating Officer, and Vice President

<:: Text Ended ::>
<:: Transmission Sent ::>

-----------------------

“Your call,” the aging Chairman stated plainly and frankly, peering over toward his wife to see what her reaction would be regarding the offer of assistance from Dame Lewis. He was interested in how she’d handle things from here on out, especially as he had been gradually stepping back from his regular administrative duties. This would be a seemingly decent trial in guessing what she would do on the fly.

Furrowing her brow, the Chairwoman replayed the transmission once more and carefully considered whether she should turn them away or accept their offer. She was never very keen on foreign military intervention in domestic matters and wasn’t particularly eager to start that now. And that was made even worse by the fact that no foreign force had ever stepped foot in the nation, and the general population had always been a bit testy when it came to ‘those meddling foreigners’, which was the main reason why the conference was going to be kept on the down-low. Then again, she was well aware that the police and army were rather overwhelmed with their duties as they were not trained to be peacekeepers, not used to being on constant watch for any disruptive citizens, and simply didn’t have the numbers to cover everything, and that was something that she knew couldn’t be overlooked because of some silly ‘pride’ she had about not wanting any help.

“We might as well let them; we really do need it,” she finally admitted to her husband with a resigned sigh, believing that securing the country no matter what was the best response to all of this, despite her own misgivings. “I’ll forward their message over to General Vance and let him handle where they should be stationed. Hopefully, it shouldn’t cause any incidents and…who knows, it might do our soldiers some good to be working alongside them.”

With that having been said, the transmission was promptly relayed down to the temporary command post that had been quickly set up on the grounds of the capital building the previous day; it wasn’t the most well-designed structure ever and it probably shouldn’t be considered a structure at all. It was more a giant forest green, insulated tent that had been speedily set up and reinforced with various ropes, cables, and bars and had a number of electric heaters set up to try to mitigate the effects of the blistery winter wind that swept around it.

Inside, standing at a datatable, which contained a basic electronic map of the capital city, where his forces were stationed and patrolling, and where specific points of interest lie, was Lieutenant General Andrew Vance going over the message that had been forwarded to him with additional instructions provided by the Chairwoman. He, surprisingly enough, wasn’t at all bothered by the request and in fact welcomed it; being more pragmatic than his compatriots in the other branches of the military, he recognized that stubbornness would’ve gotten himself nowhere and being more welcoming of foreign forces and their ideas might improve the efficiency and effectiveness of his branch, despite being so terribly low on the totem pole of funding and recognition, and that was always something he was trying to accomplish.

Soon enough, a video transmission was quickly returned to Dame Lewis and showed a middle-aged human man of a tanned complexion, that was primarily due to his hatred of commanding through a desk, with a clearly bald head, a dark brown moustache, and piercing hazel eyes. His clothes – what little one could see from them beyond his shoulders – were what one could expect while being in the field, a simple green and tan camouflaged field jacket with three stars on each of his shoulder boards showing what rank he was.

“This is Lieutenant General Andrew Vance of the First Army, stationed at the capital city of Hawthorne,” he began, speaking firmly. “Firstly, Chairwoman Siri O’Neill sends her thanks for your offer of assistance and has directed me to coordinate your efforts with our own in dealing with the security situation down here.

“Secondly, to give you a brief overview of what precisely is going on, our primary goal at this point is to supplement the local police forces in providing security to structures that are of a vital importance to the regular operation of the city and nation itself – subway stations, power substations…you get the picture – and points of interest that are of a sensitive nature – the best way to put that are places of worship that people might be eager to vandalize and flare up tensions even more. We are attempting to do this by restricting non-essential traffic from the roadways, patrolling, guarding these structures, and by trying to limit large groups of people from forming.

“Thirdly, I am transmitting the coordinates to the location where you can land or teleport, which is near your local contact, Lieutenant Colonel Braun of the 14th infantry battalion, for carrying out your duties. The location is basically an open field within a park, which is along the southeastern waterfront of the city and I have confirmed that the area is secure. Nearby is the command tent for the Lieutenant Colonel so you shouldn’t have any problems with finding him.

“If you have any further questions or problems, I am available to handle them. Vance out.”

-----------------------

<:: Encrypted Transmission ::>
<:: Priority – Alpha ::>
<:: Sender: – Northrop-Grumman Central Command Datalink – Northrop-Grumman ::>
<:: Recipient: Imperatrice Nathicana D’Aquisto – Devras – The Dominion ::>

We are extraordinarily thankful for your rapid response and your tremendous willingness to provide assistance to us; it is always relieving to see an allied response to these matters.

To address your first point, regrettably, when we’ve expanded our military in times past, we primarily focused on the space component that almost always seemed to be the main avenue of attack by any potential opponents and merely kept a small army on the mainland for basic defense. Unfortunately, it is not exactly cut out for either policing or peacekeeping, and our own police forces are vastly overwhelmed in trying to handle securing everything that may come under attack while handling its own regular emergency calls. What we would request, again with our utmost thanks, would be a medium-sized ground force to back up our own in the medium and smaller cities for the time being because they have not yet been appropriately covered by our own forces.

Second, your offer of assistance regarding infrastructure rebuilding and the mitigation of the immense unemployment that has been inflicted upon us would be quite welcome. We’ve felt that the number of people that are out of work right now is exacerbating the religious tensions; some have nothing in particular to do during their day or have no real outlet of releasing their frustrations so they are more easily prone to such outbursts. This would help to provide an income to those who truly need it, help rejuvenate the local economy, and might reduce the number of incidents that have been happening.

Thirdly, we again are thankful for your assistance pertaining toward holding back your investors and understand that you may not be able to keep them that way at length. We will do what we can so that their interests are protected and they can have certainty in our debt once more, but naturally that hinges on the upcoming proceedings and the eventual result of that. Be assured that we are doing everything we can to make sure that these payments are not adversely disrupted.

Finally, your assistance with the government restructuring with be much appreciated and would undoubtedly be beneficial in understanding how to repair all that has gone wrong thus far and to prevent it from happening again in the future. Personally, I have always regarded the Dominion as an effectively-governed, stable nation and would find that your insights to be most helpful.

Sincerely,
Siri O’Neill
Chairwoman

<:: Text Ended ::>
<:: Transmission Sent ::>

-----------------------

Conference

One-by-one transmission requests filtered into the computer system, requesting an encrypted connection with an accompanying beep and notification window that popped up on the Vice Chairman’s main display. And with nothing more than a few keystrokes, he permitted them and then the patiently waiting faces representing multiple governments appeared upon each of the monitors surrounding him. He waited just a couple of moments longer as more notified him and joined in the conference, and once he felt that the time had come to begin, he looked directly into the camera facing him and began to speak.

“Good evening and thank you for your attendance,” the elf started, speaking evenly and calmly. “Prior to discussing the specific details involved with the matter at hand, my wish is to first provide a rudimentary agenda for these proceedings. First, the most important topic and one that quite notably involves each of your respective governments the most is how must we handle the debt crisis itself, including the interest payable and debt principal and continuing the customary and periodic rollover of the debt outstanding. Following this, I wish to encourage, but not require of course, all parties to remain and discuss with me ways of closing the current budget deficit by increasing revenues, decreasing expenditures, or perhaps both. Finally, I would also like to hear suggestions on how to increase economic productivity and how to lower the current unemployment rates while taking into account the previous two topics. My desire here is to have others to bounce ideas off of that are not from the same government and society that these problems arise from; an outside perspective may prove enlightening after all.”

He paused, albeit briefly, and glanced over a datapad that he had kept with him that detailed everything he would need to discuss with these representatives. “Now, let us proceed with the first order of business: our governmental debt. Two issues are immediately brought into mind concerning this: continuing the selling of bonds to your governments, as halting that would immediately prevent us from making payments for government services, the military, and/or debt service, and either decreasing the interest payments or the principal itself. As it stands at this present time, debt service comprises 32.1 percent of projected expenditures or roughly $84.1 trillion for the next fiscal year, roughly $47.9 trillion of the debt service is allocated towards the redemption of public debt and $36.2 trillion is allocated towards interest payments, and the outstanding debt is currently $820.7 trillion.”

OOC: If there are still any more interested parties, you’re more than welcome to pop on in right here if you wish. The previous letter-writing can be just a formality.

[Scolopendra]

14th InfBat Field HQ
...well, okay, well above it first

“Thirdly, I am transmitting the coordinates to the location where you can land or teleport, which is near your local contact, Lieutenant Colonel Braun of the 14th infantry battalion, for carrying out your duties. The location is basically an open field within a park, which is along the southeastern waterfront of the city and I have confirmed that the area is secure. Nearby is the command tent for the Lieutenant Colonel so you shouldn’t have any problems with finding him.

"Thank you, General." Dame Lewis bows her head towards the screen as she touches her hands palm-to-palm and parallel to the ground in front of her chest in some form of salute vaguely reminiscent of a namaste. "I will sally forth to coordinate with the Lieutenant Colonel immediately. Knight-Master Lewis, out." When the screen fades, she turns to a weatherbeaten but placid-looking man standing just a little behind and to her left. "Knight-Colonel, you will be in command of Fair Winds while I'm ashore."

The man simply nods, craggy face hidden behind his own coif.

"Communications," she continues, looking over one shoulder, "please alert the disaster coordination landing party and First Platoon, Alpha Company. Direct them to the launch bay. We're going down."

Less above it now

The stubby-winged dropship is close to what most people think of when you say 'dropship' to them, rather than the monstrosities that most Scolopendran-influenced Trium folk call DropShips. It is brick-like with a bulbous nose, being ex-military, and there's definitely room under its wings for ordnance, but those pylons are currently empty. It even has little remote chin and side turrets, currently stowed. What it does lack from the stereotype are big thrusters--which would just burn up unprepared landing areas--and camouflage. Instead, it hums in on low-distort, abusing gravity for its own purposes, and it's painted a glossy white with bright red trim and is clearly maintained with polished and care. As it gets nearer, the winged-sword-of-justice blazon becomes ever clearer on its sides and underside before it sidles off to one end of the field and settles down a respectful distance away from the army camp.

The aft ramp drops and side doors open, leading to the orderly disgorging of a few dozen men, women, and humanoid aliens all in the same uniform: white tunics with the blazon of the Winged Justice Order prominent across the chest, red long-sleeved undershirts and trousers, black heavy boots and thick black greaves and vambraces like those usually seen by riot police, and bucket helmets clearly styled after medieval knights but with visors more like riot face-shields. Over their tunics they wear black belt-and-suspender harnesses mounting pouches of varying degrees, and they appear to be armed with nothing but the sheathed swords in scabbards hanging from their hips. They quickly organize themselves into a formation, and start shouting at one another in what can only be a military roll call.

The more military-intelligence minded amongst the observers would probably note that they organize into four blocks of twelve, each block having three columns of four 'knights;' these four blocks are arranged into two larger blocks, each apparently associated with a section leader standing slightly in front of them, and finally two of what are presumably command staff facing back towards the arrayed force. Total arrayed force, fifty-two.

This doesn't count the group of three making their way towards the green tents of the Grummian army, led by a slender woman who moves with a sense of purpose. Fans of red feathers spread like ears from either side of her helmet underneath a crown of similar red feathers, and those accompanying her are similarly marked, albeit with smaller fans of other colors and no crowns. Upon finding the Lieutenant Colonel, the leader salutes by lifting her clear visor, the lines in her face accentuated by the shadows of her helmet. "Lieutenant Colonel Braun, I am Knight-Master Dame Lewis Ida. As you see, a platoon of my best knights stand ready to aid you. We've been briefed by Lieutenant General Vance of the general situation, and I've told my knights to be most careful regarding potential sectarian tensions."

She steps curtly to one side for introductions. "I have with me Knight-Apothecary-Major Sir Ivan Donaldson,"--a blue-crested knight, slightly more portly and with more smile lines than the others, bows his head a few degrees and salutes palm-to-palm, horizontal to the ground--"who can coordinate with your health services. Knight-Engineer-Major Dame N'dbele Orroyo,"--a green-crested knight, surprisingly tall and broad for a woman, bows with the unique namaste gesture--"can assist with maintaining your infrastructure, should you need it. We have additional engineers and artificers in orbit that we can bring down at need. Knight-Lieutenant Sir Aka Obold"--Lewis points with one flat hand towards the formation--"is commander of First Platoon, Alpha Company, and I am of course Master of this Chapter, a battalion-strength force not including support personnel."

Turning back to the officer, she smiles for the first time. It's actually rather warm. "So, how can we help?"

* - * - *

Legislative Halls
Committee Room A203

"And there you have it." Heng grins behind closed lips before leaning back against the wall of the office-utilitarian room.

Silence reigns for several minutes as it sinks in.

"That much?" Someone finally asks.

"That much." Heng continues to grin.

"That's a lot."

"Well, we are talking about bailing out our share of a corporatocratic state that's gone bust. It's going to be a lot."

"We don't have to do it all at once, do we?" Someone else pipes up.

"It's for the best if we do," yet another. "They're in dire need."

"To prop up a corp state like that?" Still another scoffs. "They wanted to live by the market, they can hang by the market."

This particular person gets glared at quite a bit.

"What? If they don't suffer, they're not going to learn anything, and if we just bail them out, there's no guarantee the structural flaws will be fixed. Yes, yes, I know, I'm a dirty Realist platformer." A few moments pass. "Stop looking at me like that! I'm not eating babies here."

"He does have a point," Heng comes to his aid. "Now, now, don't move the stare-o'-death at me. All I'm saying is that we should probably tie, to some degree, our fiscal assistance to structural reforms. That doesn't keep us from offering immediate humanitarian assistance."

"From an IntRelate budget which may not even exist soon enough," one of the first points out.

"The fact of the matter is," says another one of the first, "we can't tap the General Fund on our own authority unless it is a literal declared-by-the-executive state of emergency. Al-Padishahbanu-Hadeed hasn't done that yet, has she?"

"She can't," states a newcomer to the debate. "States of emergency can only declared for internal affairs and for First Tier allies as voted upon by the Lejoo."

"So we're bent."

"The bylaws do say," Heng offers, "that we can exceed that authority on our own initiative. Sure, there's a limit to how much we can tap, and there is a cost."

"That cost happens to be that we go to jail for a spell." Says one. "Which requires a unanimous vote." Says another.

"Well, how about it?" Heng says brightly, a slight glint of teeth showing from behind his smile this time. "Shall we all hang together?"

* - * - *

Telepresence

International Relations Advisor Golde Tourneur logs on and smiles in front of her camera. She's always so much more comfortable with telepresence. Other than the immediate pleasantries of introductions, she doesn't say much for now. If she leaps right out of the gate with what she has, others may hold back.

Then again, she doesn't even know the full extent of her hand yet.

[Northrop-Grumman]

14th InfBat Field HQ

The landing zone where the dropship settled down was at the far northern end of a long, narrow, and relatively flattened field, while the temporary headquarters for the battalion lay at the opposite end. Toward the westward side, a thicket of bushes provided a barrier to prevent people from wandering amongst the much larger and older oak trees – both of which were placed there to act as a sound barrier against the bustling city that was just beyond them. Toward the eastern side were more trees, although less in number and far more spread apart, beyond which were the tennis and basketball courts and eventually the waterfront boardwalk.

If it hadn’t been in the dead middle of winter and not during a time of martial law, the park would abound with relaxing adults taking a break from their work, playful children enjoying the outdoors, and pets of all types and sizes trying to work off all that energy from being pent inside; it would be a nice little slice of nature in the midst of a sprawling metropolis, but it wasn’t one of those times. Instead, the shady leaf cover had dissipated some time ago already, leaving behind the trees’ bare branches gently rocking in the wind, and snow had covered most of the ground, except for those few areas where it had been torn up by the soldiers’ boots and the metal treads of military vehicles. And the sky overhead provided little comfort either as it continued to be sickly, cloudy grey, blocking the sun’s rays from giving any warmth to the city below.

Not terribly far from where the knights were disembarking was where the makeshift motor pool had been set up, and located within were about twenty three main battle tanks (a large portion were pre-war ones that used regular shells for their main guns, but there were some that had the newer plasma cannons fitted but had still retained the older bodies), a dozen APCs that were very unspectacular in appearance and merely looked like a giant box with treads, a sloped front, and an open-air machine gun turret on top, and another dozen infantry fighting vehicles that were similar to the APCs but had better armoring and an auto cannon. Also, scattered here and there around the motor pool and the command tents were various light trucks and armored vehicles for basic transport.

When the three knights were making their way towards the camp and were passing by the motor pool, a diesel engine attempting to turn over could be heard, but it sputtered every single time it happened, mainly due to the cold outside and the machine itself being exceptionally old. The soldier manning its turret lazily leaned and waited while engine continued to crank some more, but then he saw the knights, which immediately caused him to arch a curious brow at seeing such a strange sight and kicked his boot against the metal insides of the vehicle.

“Wouldja stop fucking around with that and getta load of these guys,” he directed his voice inside, causing the driver to mutter and curse loudly at being bothered

“Christ…what?!” she complained as she slammed open the hatch at the front-top of the vehicle to peek out at what was going on. “Huh,” came the flat response as she strapped some goggles to her face so that she could see without the frigid wind bothering her eyes. “I can’t say I’m a fan of the knight schtick, but whatever…”

“They don’t even have any rifles with them!” he commented back in disbelief.

“Hey, if they’re that stupid and get themselves shot up, then that’s no skin off my back,” she shrugged and started stepping back down into the APC. “Who the fuck cares…” The turret gunner sighed some as he watched the hatch close and continued to wait for the machine to roar to life, but that didn’t seem to be happening any time soon, unfortunately.

Finally, when the three entered into the command tent, they found that one man was sitting at a makeshift communications center that had been set up on the left side and was pressing his headphones against his ear to hear reports from his company commanders in the field. On the opposite side of the tent from the entrance were several cots set up, but most seemed to not have ever been used. Towards the right side were two tables and accompanying chairs set up with a percolator atop one of them that was still brewing piping hot coffee, but aside from that, there didn’t seem to be much that was available to eat that was easily seen, though the various boxes and crates over there did in fact list “MREs” as one of their contents. Finally, at the focal point of the room was a datatable, containing a digital map of everything that was under the jurisdiction of the 14th Battalion; on one side of it was Lieutenant Colonel Braun and on the other was a woman who held the rank of major.

His attention wasn’t caught immediately by the presence of these foreigners as he had been preoccupied with reading the display and trying to figure out where he needed to shore up his forces. He wasn’t given a whole lot of time to make his decision though and he didn’t exactly have enough information about what these people could do, so it was almost pointless to really decide upon anything before they arrived. Thankfully, they had and when Lewis had begun to speak, he turned around, albeit slowly, to face them and bowed his head in respect. Braun was in his early forties in human years, but whatever youthfulness that he once had was clearly gone; he appeared incredibly tired with dark bags under his turquoise-colored eyes. The only thing that managed to keep him awake at this point was the cup of black coffee that he was carefully nursing while Lewis was going through all the introductions, but he was respectful though, in spite of his state of mind, and did bow his head to each of them as they were addressed.

“A pleasure,” he began, nodding to each of them. “Here, I have my second-in-command, Major Donaldson.” He gestured towards the woman standing opposite of him at the datatable, who smiled and bowed her head in return. “And over there is Chief Communications Officer, Captain Meyers.” The man pivoted his head slightly and bowed it, looking a little uneasy and distracted. But promptly, he returned to his work, listening in and copying down what was being reported; his intention wasn’t to be rude to any of the guests but there was much he still had to do and, if anything was important, it would need to be addressed as soon as possible.

“You probably won’t meet the rest of my command staff…at least, not right now…because they’re out in the field actually, trying to get everything straightened out where it needs it the most.” He took a long sip from his mug and pondered for a moment too long. “…right. I’m gonna make the assumption that you haven’t been watching the news or anything like, so basically…” He pulled his sleeve and glanced at his digital watch. “Forty…six hours ago, an explosion, presumably a high-yield truck bomb, was detonated in one of the sublevel parking garages of the city stadium, initially collapsing about…a quarter of the stadium, heavily damaging half, and leaving the remaining slightly damaged. An evac of the facility managed to get about three quarters of the people out, including some of those who were badly injured, before the roof collapsed entirely. The official confirmed death toll stands at five thousand six-hundred thirty-one people with about thirty-five thousand still unaccounted for. It’s hard to get an accurate figure on anything besides the deceased because we don’t have an accurate record of how many people were actually in there.”

Braun, with his free hand, lightly tapped upon the screen beside him and pulled up a 3D holographic image of what the structure looked like in its current state. Above ground level, only one small section managed to resemble the stadium it once was, while the remainder looked like nothing more than a pile of rubble. Underground, there was a faint outline of the seven sublevels but since no one had been down there after the explosion, there was no readily available information about its current state. The only thing that actually appeared clearly there was the tunnel that fed cars into the parking garages and that stopped just outside of the stadium grounds, presumably because the tunnel had collapsed.

“As you can see here, we’re having to sift through several hundred thousand tons of concrete and steel carefully because there might be folks still alive inside and we’re unsure how much the blast damaged the sublevels. It could turn into a giant hole if we manage to screw it up. This would probably be a good area for you two to help out if you can,” he gestured towards Sir Ivan and Dame N’dbele.

“Now as for the security part of all of this, thankfully the stadium area is largely secure so you’re really not going to have many problems in that respect. For the rest of the area under my jurisdiction, that’s where it becomes a bit more dicey. There are a number of churches around here, which have been attacked a few times in the last couple of days, but luckily the damage hasn't been anything terribly major – just some bricks being tossed through a few windows and someone attempted to chuck a Molotov cocktail at another. Aside from that, there have been a few altercations; although, they’ve been relatively minor like someone assaulting a few of my men, a local politician, and a few clergymen. Though, I suggest you don’t get complacent; someone is bound to do something remarkably stupid and either set something alight, blow something up, or shoot some people…with military-grade weapons.” He appeared quite exasperated with saying that, but it was the honest to God truth.

[Scolopendra]

14th InfBat Field HQ

Dame Lewis listens politely, folding her gauntleted hands behind her as the colonel speaks. Once she has a moment, she glances at her two subordinates. "Time is of the essence. Talk with whomever you have to here, and bring down as many of our support staff and heavy lifters as you need from Fair Winds." The addressed knights nod curtly, then go to Major Donaldson for more direction as the knight-master returns her steady gaze to the colonel.

"The situation is severe, then, but we are suitably equipped. Appearances do not deceive," she says with a slightly wry smile, "we are not kitted for field battle. Political considerations suggested that full battle armor would not be conducive to a peacekeeping operation. However, our armor is sufficient for small arms and riot work, and there are of course our swords. Please excuse me."

Stepping back half a pace, she grasps the curiously L-shaped hilt of the sword at her hip and draws her weapon underhand, like a knife. It makes the traditional steel-on-steel noise such a thing is expected to, but as she holds it out, aligned with the axis of her shoulders and parallel to the ground, it looks nothing like tradition dictates.

The hilt is distinctly bent, the pommel basically a flat narrow flange set at ninety degrees to the grip. The guard is skewed slightly from being square with the grip; the arm pointing towards the pommel is smoothly curved, similar in size and shape to a pistol grip; the arm pointing towards the tip is an angular chunk of metal as a guard should be topped with a squat cylinder parallel to the 'blade, a glimmer of glass within the open top and bottom of the cylinder. The blade... isn't a blade, but a long, narrow elliptic cylinder about a meter long, subdivided into three-centimeter segments. Glossy black seams, reflecting light curiously from within, appear between the segments as well as along the major and minor axes of the sword's elliptical cross-section. The tip segments taper down in an ogive curve similar to a bullet, and ends in a small circular aperture filled with the same glossy black material as within the seams.

"It is a somewhat more flexible weapon than those knights-errant in ages past whose chivalric ideology inspired us," she says with no small amount of pride. "Yes, it can cut. It can also apply stunning shocks, as appropriate in riot detail. It can also do the same thing at range." With a flick of her wrist, she moves her hand from the grip of the sword to the curved part of the guard, and tucks the pommel into her shoulder, the sword's tip now pointing safely towards the ground. With the context changed, it now looks like a rifle of burnished steel and leather. "We shall do our utmost to ensure that these are sufficient to keep the peace, though if necessary we do have heavier gear aboard Fair Winds."

Sheathing her sword with the smooth nonchalance that experience engenders, the lady knight-master turns to the holoscreen next to her table. "We can provide site security to these locations by splitting up the platoon by section and squad geographically. Four-man teams should be sufficient to guard the smaller structures, though the larger ones may require an entire squad." She glances towards the colonel, then looks back to the table and folds her arms as she thinks. "Considering the fatigue your men are probably suffering and operational issues mentioned by the general, my recommendation is this: the order of battle of my company is, as mentioned, a battalion. Twelve men to a squad, four squads to a platoon, four platoons to a company, four companies in total. They all consist of light infantry that can, at best short of battle armor, be motorized. You clearly have heavy weapons and armor should they be necessary. In this case, the Order can deploy three companies, Alpha through Charlie, to maintain local security and patrols. Delta Company will be maintained in battle-armored reserve as a mechanized relief cavalry that we can air-deploy at need. While you should probably maintain some forces on the street for presence and to offer us legitimacy, the bulk of your force can retire and act as heavy cavalry should any given situation become dire."

Ida turns off the battle-hardened-warrior routine and once again smiles warmly to the colonel. "It is, of course, only a recommendation, Colonel. This is your operation and my Chapter stands ready to serve under your command and authority. This is merely what my experience suggests."

[Midlonia]

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen.” George said as the telepresence screen finally clicked in. He was stood in his office in front of his desk, the entire far wall from him apparently given over to a holographic screen for the telepresence screen and other use. The very soft playing of the MBC news channel off to the side showed he still had half an eye on the news, which was reporting yet again on the Midlonian-Durghani war. “I do hope that we shall be able to come to an agreeable solution for all parties involved at the end of this conference. Midlonia itself is just out of recession again after various turbulent times and we are concerned about keeping economic activity up in the North Western provinces of Akuma with the ongoing war.” He leant on his desk casually. His eyes flicking to the Grummian Elf.

“We are highly concerned with the scale of Grummian debt, and wonder what public projects were undertaken to run up such a high amount. As a corporate state we would have assumed that income and outgoing would’ve been better balanced. Running up the best part of a quadrillion in debts is frankly astonishing. On current projections it will reach quadrillion no matter what is done here today. We are genuinely in a things are going to get worse before they get better situation.”

He ran a hand quickly over his neatly trimmed goatee beard. “What proposals do the Grummians have at the present time for a restructuring of the debt? While we do have our own proposals we want to know what the Grummians have to put forward first to save repetition.”

[Northrop-Grumman]

14th InfBat Field HQ

Braun’s initial impression, like those soldiers under his command, was that the knights were woefully underpowered, in some sense, for what they were here to accomplish and, in another, carried a weapon that was purely designed to hack people apart, which wasn’t at all necessary in this situation. That gave him quite some concern, and he had been waiting to see if it would be addressed sooner or later – it was hoped that maybe they had their more appropriate weapons stowed away in the dropship – or he would have to provide them with small arms and rifles, which could either shoot regular bullets or rubber ones. Fortunately and surprisingly, that had not been the case.

The weapons that they wielded were considerably less sword-like in designed when drawn and much more of a multi-tool, quite different than what was initially believed from simple observation; Appearances did in fact deceive, the Colonel mused to himself as he watched Dame Lewis showing off all of its capabilities to him. He was actually quite impressed with it and under other circumstances he might’ve been tempted to pester her about who designed it, where might he be able to purchase some, and if he could give it a trial run. But now wasn’t a particularly suitable time; time was of the essence in getting these knights sorted into their deployment, screwing around by swinging their weapon around would probably not look favorably on him, and he was much too tired to be handling any sort of deadly weapon right now.

“A very impressive weapon, I’ve gotta say; not exactly something you see every day either,” he admitted freely, his eyebrows were both raised as he eyed the weapon carefully once more and then he casually took another gulp from his mug. “It’s actually more than suitable for peacekeeping, I think. Most of our army forces here have been deployed to mainly use rubber bullets, but they do in fact keep two magazines of lethal rounds in reserve, if need be. You don’t want to be caught out there with your pants down.”

His attention was then drawn to the suggestions that she provided about how her forces might be deployed and how he could deploy his own. He stroked his chin thoughtfully and carefully considered what he ought to do. “Well, right now, this is what we’ve got going on: there are three regular infantry companies in the field, backed up with APCs or IFVs that are handy for supplies, general protection, and transport. Half of the armored company regularly rotates with the half out in the field, but they’ve been largely scattered about and have been sticking to the main thoroughfares. Maneuverability generally goes to shit if you’ve got more than two tanks together on one narrow street. We’ve also got a support company, mainly for recon, that’s been out in the field; they’ve been split up by fireteams and positioned from high vantage points, like the roofs of skyscrapers, some of the cathedral bell towers, and so on.

“What we can do is take your idea and tweak it just a tad. I’d suggest deploying your three companies into the field like you’ve suggested, and for the first twelve hours, have two companies of mine in and one out, then for the next twelve hours, reverse it – one in and two out. Then at around the same time tomorrow, all three will come in and perhaps I can coordinate with the other battalion commanders in the area to allow me to take on a few more streets within my jurisdiction so that you and I can provide some relief for them. They’re running a little less ragged than we are, but they still need that little bit of help, I believe. The support company that I have can help provide you with any additional weapons, food, housing, or really whatever you need, and we can hook your forces into our comm network so that you can receive more information from the recon teams.”

He paused briefly and sipped a little more from his coffee. “Oh, and a recommendation from General Vance was that we at least attempt slight integration between our two forces, not to the point it hampers our tactics but enough to where we’re working together to a degree. We don’t want a situation where the hand doesn’t know what the foot is doing…plus, it helps you folks in having people out there who know the layout of the city and its little quirks, it helps my forces in that they’ll gain some more experience in working with people that aren’t from around these parts, and it might help out with the whole legitimacy issue that you brought up.”

-----------------------

Conference

The wonderment concerning how the Corporation had managed to get into his mess was not entirely surprising to the Vice Chairman, but he was slightly dismayed at the accusatory tone of it. It was not something that he felt was necessary at this time as he wanted to keep things on the pleasant side for all parties; the last thing that this needed was a heated argument, which would effectively derail everything. Nevertheless, apparently this needed to be clarified in more detail, so he sought to do so promptly.

“Regarding your initial inquiry,” he began in his usual calm, collected, business-like demeanor. “The primary contributor to our excessive debt has been the civil war and other calamities that have occurred during the prior thirty-three years. For the duration of that war, tax collection ceased to be feasible because of the continual fluidity of the battle lines and for the simple fact that our citizens were fighting for their very lives; a sizeable portion possessed no real currency while they fought, their possessions were either taken or destroyed by the opposing forces, and we were barely keeping everything together without laying additional problems upon them.

“Then after the cessation of the conflict, whatever remained of the capital city had to be restored to its prior state and the rubble that comprised the majority of it had to be cleared, the ground graded from bomb craters, and the subterranean and surface structures rebuilt. In addition, the identification and proper burial of approximately three hundred twenty-five million citizens needed to be done. Naturally, this had a profound impact on our economic status by causing expenditures to increase immensely and our revenues to plummet.

“Since that time, we have attempted to provide stimulus projects such as infrastructure construction to attempt to revive the economy, but that has resulted in nothing more than stagnation and an increasing debt load. Now with the current religious conflict, we have been spending more to keep tensions in check so that it does not flare up into another civil war. Finally, as had been mentioned in the initial communiqué, the inefficiencies and ineffectualness of our current government structure are making these problems worse, but not to the degree of the other factors.

“As for your second inquiry, we have considered the possibility of exchanging current outstanding bonds with ones that are indexed to GDP growth. Simply put, if our economy grows below expectations, then it places considerably less pressure upon us when we truly need the money the most; bondholders are paid but at a reduced rate. Likewise, when the economy has grown beyond expectations, we will require less issuance of bonds as our budget would likely be more balanced and we would have more money to pay off bondholders. Unfortunately, the catch with this is that it requires the agreement and participation of other governments to allow us to do so, before the bonds have matured.

“Another possibility would be the introduction of longer term bonds, such as ones that mature in one hundred years. The benefit of this would be the reduction in debt service expense that deals with the regular rolling over of debt and would help to begin to close the budgetary gap. It would be preferable if we could exchange a major portion of our existing debt into these bonds to have an even greater effect.”

[Oyada]

Simeia Tumeni huddled grimly beneath her fur-lined coat, and shivered. Winter was always hard in Hawthorne; the Grummian climate, indeed, seemed positively designed to discourage human habitation, oscillating as it did between deep, freezing winters and torturously hot summers, with damp, sweat-sprinkled springs and chilly, uninviting autumns bridging the gaps. In her years in the city she had never really learned to like it; merely to tolerate it, as one might an unsightly mole whose removal demanded just a shade too much resolution and effort to make it justifiable. Simeia stood a scarce five feet and eight inches tall, which put her a couple of inches short of the average Grummian woman. Her petite stature, her pale skin and her somewhat Oriental features made her stand out; she was not one of their stock, yet they had accepted her. Despite the unpleasantness of Hawthorne’s climate, she liked the city and its inhabitants; they were tolerant and peaceful, and by and large Hawthorne was, in turn, a tolerant and peaceful place, wherein she might go about her life free from unwanted attention or comment. When she walked down her street – as she was doing at that moment – she could always be certain of a friendly wave, a cheery greeting, and a snippet or two of conversation from her neighbours. It was that sort of place; a community, loose but strong, that was difficult to break down or even to frighten.

It was that knowledge which made the quietness of the place all the more frightening; this afternoon, the street was all but silent. At each junction, a group of soldiers waited behind their barricades, reluctantly enforcing the recently-proclaimed martial law, smoking their way through cheap, coarse cigarettes and cherishing the tiny, guttering warmth that each burning tip provided, stamping their feet in an effort to return blood to toes on the brink of frostbite. Shutters, uncharacteristically graffiti-strewn, marked the ordinary trading-places of small-time businessmen and women, eking out an often precarious existence from one day to the next in a nation that promised that hard work and honesty would be rewarded with wealth and security, and believing fervently in that hopeful dream; every day, they reached for that wealth, a glittering prize glimpsed through mists of distance and time. Of late, the mists had become fogs, impenetrable and forbidding, in which many had lost their way – and their faith. Simeia trudged down the snowy pavement, feeling the packed whiteness crunching beneath her boots, and glanced at the spray-painted scrawls through the corner of her eye, keeping her head down so that the heavy hood of her overcoat bore the brunt of the ferocious wind, deflecting the hard-driven snow away from her eyes. “Land of Opportunity?”, “Bring down the Corporation”; even “Hawthorne Bleeds” - memorial to a dark chapter, driven by madness and wild hatreds, that still lay within living memory. One message, spelt out in dribbling, ill-formed black letters flecked with dirty snowflakes, read plaintively: “Feed the starving”. Simeia shivered a little, telling herself it was only the cold, and pressed on, ducking down a narrow alleyway to avoid the soldiers.

Sheltered from the worst of the snow, she took an opportunity to pull back her hood and light a cigarette. Even here, the ever-growing blizzard reached her; the tall, slab-sided flanks of the buildings between which she walked directed the icy blast straight into her face, but it didn’t manage to stop her getting lit up. She exhaled gratefully, craning her neck to watch the cloud of smoke and steam shred in the current, and squinted at the scudding clouds, blinking back snowflakes that sought to land squarely on her pupil. Above, the soaring sides of two anonymous Grummian office buildings tapered toward a curving vanishing point that seemed hidden in the stormy skies, punctured by darkened and lifeless windows. Many stared back, blank and broken; a curtain lapped fitfully at the periphery of shattered glass some storeys above, and was dodged adroitly by a pigeon settling inside the empty innards. Voices floated from within, dispersing on the wind and wracked by potent, hacking coughs; Simeia declined to linger, and quickened her pace through the narrow passageways, crossing broad boulevards now shorn of their customary traffic as she sought her destination. Visibility was dropping away disconcertingly quickly, the snowstorm intensifying with every minute. She took a hopeful drag on the cigarette and found it soggy and very much extinguished, a half-melted patch of snow still resting smugly on the dead tip.

“Fuck’s sake!” Simeia reached around inside the leather bag she kept perennially slung over one shoulder and found the packet, battered and bent from its travels, rapidly joining its former contents in the land of the wet. The wind had now veered and begun to drive yet more snow into her face, neatly packing it into the space between her hood and her ears, her smokes were now turning into damp splodges and her ears were about to drop off; this did not constitute a good day. She took shelter in the lee of yet another monolithic office block, and only narrowly avoided stepping on what appeared to be a large bundle of old clothing, which promptly began remonstrating with her. Yet another beggar. She paused for a moment, and reached into her pocket; an instinctive response that had no purpose at all, since there was not a penny to be found in the entire of the damn country – literally, in this case, rather than figuratively. Simeia sighed and shrugged apologetically, the movement of her diminutive frame almost totally subsumed into the huge jacket. “Smoke?”

“Please,” the vagrant replied, his voice obviously the product of a hard job, hard winters, and a very hard meths habit. She proffered a slightly bent cigarette, stuffed one into her own mouth, and lit both.

“Crummy day, eh?”

“Unh. Been crummy for months, darlin’”, he replied, cracking her a wry grin that lasted fewer than three seconds before being broken by a bout of coughing. Neither of them noticed the small spray of blood that reddened slightly the pavement’s thickening blanket. He was dying, and he knew it; he had every intention of filling himself up with enough intoxicants to prevent himself from knowing any more than was absolutely necessary, when the time came. “No job, no house, no money, no card, no nothin’. Not even a decent goddamn climate.” He took a drag from a shaking hand and stared at Simeia with sunken eyes. “Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown,” he added, cackling fitfully. “Guess I’ll find out before long, if this keeps up.”

Simeia frowned. “What did you do?”

“Taught,” he replied morosely, staring at the cigarette, its tip sheltered by his hand. “Taught the arts. Not much use for those today.” He coughed again, into a grubby sleeve this time, and shook his head. “No money, no job, no thought for me or mine. Guess the Corporation doesn’t really mind if we starve, so long as we do it on the cheap,” he added bitterly.

“I… I suppose not,” she replied, uncertainly. “I’m sorry, I... I have to go, I’m meant to meet someone…”

The beggar waved a hand dismissively, but managed another smile. “Not to worry, miss. We’re all fightin’ to live right now, ain’t we?” He reached out a stained and scarred hand. “Good health to ya.”

Simeia swallowed again, and took his grasp; a weak grasp, like his grasp on life. Impulsively, she pressed the packet into his palm, adding the lighter with it. “Good luck. Enjoy them.”

The man stared at her, mutely, for a second or two, and then at the floor. “Very kind of you, my dear.” And when his gaze returned to her, there was fire there still, and a stiffness to his jaw. “Good luck to you too. May we meet again, under better circumstances!”

Simeia nodded; turned, stooping, into the wind; and went on her way.

*****

The snow deepened. In times not long past it would have been removed in minutes by the copious mileage of under-floor heating equipment running beneath its gum-spattered surface; today, for economy’s sake, the glittering, freezing heaps grew ever higher, and changed the face of the city as they did so; it chilled in spirit as rapidly as it chilled in body. The few people who had been willing to brave the blizzard, without the most pressing and absolute necessity, had vanished indoors, and Simeia trudged through the swirling cloud, her head bowed against the wind, staring numbly at the ground. Every time she paused in her journey to check a crossing, the snow set to work, driving into her watering eyes and flaying at her skin. She, certainly, had never seen weather such as this in Hawthorne; though not overly superstitious, it seemed a particularly ill omen of late. And still the snow persisted – now beginning to harden into what were, quite perceptibly, rather large hailstones, it rattled from drainpipes and wastebins, and scattered itself, in strange, volcanic piles atop the white heaps, like the discarded stones of some long-lost Lilliputian trebuchet. Squinting through the white walls, Simeia made out the hulking form of some monumental, stone-built structure or other; she didn’t recognise it, but it was shelter; reasoning that nobody was driving at this point, made a run for its welcoming blankness, her soft, fur-lined boots throwing up great white clouds to challenge those bombarding her and Hawthorne alike. She neither noticed the sudden cold as the snow lapped over their tops, nor the fact that she had begun to sweat a little. The only thing she noticed was the sudden absence of snow as she rounded one of the walls; though a thin bed of the stuff lay beneath her feet, she was at least out of the wind. Gasping slightly, both with relief and from her worrying shortness of breath, Simeia rolled heavily onto the wall and folded her arms over her chest, panting gently as she lolled her head backwards to stare at the sky. Grey clouds billowed swiftly overhead, disgorging yet further bitterness on the besieged capital.

“Fuck’s sake.” Sighing, she reached into her pocket and, after some further fumbling, watched gratefully as the end of another tab began to glow. “Now,” she added, under her breath: “where am I, anyway?” The question was really largely academic; for the moment, her rendezvous could wait. She wasn’t going anywhere until the snow stopped.

The walls enclosing her were dark. Simple, unadorned granite, they stared at Simeia’s huddled form mutely, uninterestedly. She realised, with disquieting abruptness, that she was quite alone. No sound emerged from anywhere nearby, and the outside world now lay locked away, beyond the sweeping curve of polished rock protecting her from the ferocity of the storm. In the centre of the pierced circle, a single, glassy-smooth obelisk jutted heavenward; around its base, she made out a cluster of small circles, dull green in hue, slowly being covered by the blown flurries. Simeia looked upwards, thinking, and sighed; pulling her hood more closely to her head, she padded the dozen or more feet to the collection of objects and, squatting in the shallow snow to reach out a gloved hand, brushed some of it away, the wind sending stinging smoke into her eyes. They were wreaths; seven small, carefully-made wreaths, created in precisely-wrapped and bound coils of waxy, evergreen holly leaves, each carrying a brace of tiny, delicate, pure white flowers, each bearing at its centre a different symbol. Each a unique, hand-made testament to pain and sorrow, to the frailty of life, and to the everlasting hope that seemed, against all odds, to sustain it.

Blanking slowly, Simeia craned her neck to the obelisk’s surface. Etched upon those seemingly blank and featureless walls, permanent and unassailable in the shining rock, were names. Talbots and Taylors, Thompsons and Turners; and here and there an Elven-sounding creation, a Tanyanvaran or a Tereanuril. Names after names after names. There had to be a thousand, on the face she gazed upon alone; names of men and women who would never again rise to greet the dawn.

Simeia’s eyes stung, and she knew it was not merely the smoke. She laid the wreath reverently in its place, and went back to her corner of the wall. Whilst the snows whistled and hurtled around the memorial to the fallen of Hawthorne, Simeia padded softly, gradually around its deserted circumference, undisturbed by the almost respectful weather, and read, and tried to imagine their fates.

She had not seen the civil war; she had not seen the ruin of Hawthorne and the slaughter of its people. She was not of Northrop-Grumman; she had not been raised by the Corporation; she had no more connection to the misery and suffering that the solemn, silent garden commemorated than any tourist in the galaxy. Yet, she understood. The same pain, the same horror and the same lifelong sorrow had been in her life since the very moment she was born.

Simeia Tumeni had, long ago, been an Oyadan, a subject of His Imperial Majesty. Such memorials had been part and parcel of her life since her very youngest days, but they had never lost their power of grief. But, she reminded herself, she had left her homeland. She had turned her back on it; in a way, she had also turned her back on all those men, whom those vast cenotaphs she once knew had remembered in stone, as insurance against the feeble strength of flesh. Now, surrounded by the memories of her new home’s days of despair, Simeia stood at the edge of two worlds, and watched the flying snow.

[Scolopendra]

14th InfBat Field HQ

Dame Lewis nods, the red feather-fans on the sides of her helmet wafting slightly with the motion. "That makes sense. With your permission, I'd like to bring down the other two company transports and form a secure landing zone for our logistics as we rotate forces in similar fashion. I lead from the field, but I will be your direct liaison to the Chapter. We should also organize squad and platoon level communications to increase operational response; I trust my knights sufficiently to take the initiative in support of local objectives."

Unlatching one of the pouches on her harness, she retrieves a blocky Scolopendran-make communicator and hands it to the colonel. "And speaking of direct communications, this is your direct line to me. Our communication protocols for this operation are included on that handset's memory; you should be able to access it through the omni-jack port, though I fully understand if you decide to keep it isolated from your own communications systems." The knight-commander twists her lips into something so grimly wry it hardly qualifies as a smile. "In this world of ours, there is so little that one can trust, no?"

* - * - *

Committee Room A203

The semi-Asian man nonchalantly pulls off the drawer of the sheet-metal ballot box and slides it onto the table. Seats shift slightly as the committee members stretch upwards to see the results: seven white cubes, two black spheres. Inevitable glances left and right as those either look to see who blackballed the proposal or try to look like they weren't the ones who blackballed it. Some will guess, no one will ever really know.

"Well," Heng says with a shrug, "it looks like we won't have to clear our calendars for a stay in prison." Looking down at his open communicator on the table, he taps a button to turn a draft message into a sent message. "I guess that means we'll do this the long way, then."

* - * - *

Scolopendran-side Telepresence

Golde's attention is pulled downwards as her open communicator beeps softly for her attention. The screen displays two words, agreed upon previously between the conspirators, if conspirators they could be called:

LONG HAUL.

She looks back up and stifles a sigh.

Conference

The brown haired woman waits a few polite seconds. Since no one else seems to be talking, she enters the breach. "The Federated Segments has had a long and mutually profitable relationship with the people of Northrup-Grumman," she semi-truths. Financially, one could make the argument that this is a lie, especially recently. In intangibles, however, regarding Martian order and overall friendliness and warm bunnies, it was well worth the cost. "As such, InTrade... pardon, the International Trade Section has been discussing the situation with the International Relations Section and the People's Money Committee to see how we can help. On the PMC side, it will take some time to go through the Legislative Unit to discuss and hopefully authorize allocations from the General Fund into additional strategic investment in Northrop-Grumman in terms of the proposed long-term bonds."

'Strategic investment' sounds much, much better than 'bailout.' It certainly would to the Scolopendran taxpayers who, incongruously both socialistic and frugal in mindset, would balk at the idea of throwing buckets of cash at a failed megacorporate state. The only reason they put up with the megacorporations of Karmabaijan and Zero-One are that they do make money and they aren't as bad as all that.

"However, both the International Trade and International Relations Sections have allocated a portion of their individual contingency budgets and funds to provide immediate assistance." Advisor Tourneur glances down off-camera to type a few things into her desk console. "As liquid assets are necessary for the current emergency, the Segments are willing to accelerate its payment of long-term bonds held by Northrop-Grumman as per Schedule A in the file just transmitted. You will note that the payment schedule assumes an adjustment in the return rate to keep the value constant over the investment time horizon." Sooner repayment, lower overall rate. It evens out, mostly because the Segments do try to play fair in their goody-goody way and partially because the time value of inflating money says less money now is worth more money later. "In terms of Scolopendran holdings of Northrop-Grumman debt, we are quite willing to renegotiate it in terms of the century bonds suggested by the Chairman. We'd even be interested in converting to GDP-indexed century bonds to minimize the negative impact on Grummian long-term debt."

There's not much else she can do without the dreaded words of debt forgiveness, so she starts laying the groundwork for the long haul. "I mentioned the General Fund, but accessing that could be... difficult. I won't bore you with the intricacies of Scolopendran fiscal politics, but it's almost certain that legislators will demand corrective action and contingency plans before voting to release General Fund resources. We of course understand that foreign invasion is an outside-context problem and very little can be done about things like that. The sectarian violence, however, is indicative of systemic... complications in Grummian society. How are these planned to be addressed, so I can aid our efforts in the Legislative Unit?"

[Northrop-Grumman]

Northwestern Hawthorne

A lone man trudged through the knee-deep snow drifts that had begun to pile upon the concrete sidewalks, leaning against the blistering wind that continually pelted his heavy coat with ice pellets. Ordinarily, he would have preferred to catch a subway train from near the research facility, but annoyingly when he had shown up at the entrance to the subway nearby, he discovered that the iron gates had been closed and was now guarded by a heavy lock. Another option would have been the bus system or maybe a taxi, but neither seemed to be on the streets tonight, partly because of the lockdown and partly because the streets were entirely unplowed, making them almost impassable to anything but military vehicles and other heavy trucks. So he had been forced to slowly make his way to the train station that anchored the northwestern portion of the rail system in some hope that he could maybe come across some more information about what was going on and potentially find another way home.

Fortunately, his hour-long trek across the city had rewarded him as he was greeted by the station’s bright welcoming lights shining just ahead, piercing the greyness that seemed to encompass everything in these desolate streets. He was ready to get indoors by now as he disliked being out here alone with nothing but the sound of wind whipping around the skyscrapers to keep him company. Not a soul could be seen, not the usual street vendors, not an elderly man relaxing in the evening glow reading a newspaper, not a child strolling along on her way home from school – it was a city that seemed entirely devoid of life.

He pushed himself from his staggering pace to make it the final few yards into one of the brass-plated revolving doors that began to turn slowly when he leaned against it to catch his breath. When the door eventually cut his section off from the outside elements, he found a blast of warm, comfortable air strike his face. And he then stumbled a few more steps out of the door and onto a rubber mat that had been laid out in anticipation of travelers’ snow-covered boots.

Taking deep, heavy breaths, he slouched terribly with his hands resting upon his thighs. His hood and snow cap had covered his eyes, giving him only glimpses of the floor, but when he heard the clearing of a throat before him, he pulled back on the hood and gazed up to find his eyes meeting with those of an army sergeant, patiently waiting for the man to notice him and glancing back towards the door. The man peered first to his left and then to his right to find two riflemen standing there, also watching him intently with their weapons ready.

“Sir, ID please,” the one before him commanded rather bluntly reaching out with an open hand.

“Here you go,” the man muttered softly, still somewhat out of breath from the trek over here, and handed over his card. Thanking him, the sergeant grasped it and fed it through the hand-held reader he carried on his belt, looking over the display carefully before using the device to scan the man, making sure that the card and the man matched and that he was not carrying any deadly weapons.

“Good evening, Mr. Franklin,” the soldier handed the card back, using the name that had displayed upon the screen, and visibly relaxed, which was the cue to the other two men to do the same. “What brings you here?”

Franklin started brushing off some of the snow that had caked up on his coat and stomped a little to knock it off of his boots too. “Trying to get home, but it looks like not a thing’s running tonight.”

“Where exactly are you heading?” the sergeant inquired thoughtfully.

“Uh, Sutherlin, actually,” he shivered slightly when a piece of ice slipped off his cap and bounced into the inside of his coat.

“Sutherlin…Sutherlin,” the soldier repeated quietly to himself, pondering carefully as he considered the destination. It was incredibly difficult to figure out what was running this night or any day really; the timetables had been changed without much notice and, considering that it was expensive to redesign and reprint all the paper schedules and maps, there wasn’t anything anyone could use once they got to the station either. Then there was the problem that the times constantly changed due to attacks, weather conditions, and the state of martial law. “Well…regional rail is still running as far as I know…to some degree…the next train will supposedly come through here in about…eh…forty-five minutes, if it doesn’t get delayed by snow.”

“Figures…,” Franklin answered somewhat dejectedly, slouching his shoulders and hating the fact that he’d have to linger around here for so long; he really wanted to get home and slip between the nice warm sheets of his bed. “Alright, thanks for the help.”

“Have a good night, sir,” the soldier replied with a nod.

“You, too,” came the answer over his shoulder with a gloved wave as he departed the checkpoint.

With a labored sigh, he began to mosey about the cavernous station, his eyes darting around to see how many people were still around and to find where his particular platform was located. One or two stragglers were wondering about, presumably to escape the bitter cold or to see about getting home this night, but they seemed content to keep to themselves and did not acknowledge the presence of him or anyone else here. On a more pleasant of a day, he certainly would have paid attention to the rest of the station around him with its magnificent stone archways, steel girders that rose several stories up to the glass-paned metal roof, and the marble floors, but today was not one of those days. He cared little for that sort of thing right now; he was tired, still cold, and aggravated over his trek and being stuck here for almost an hour.

After finding where his platform was, he glanced upward to the large mechanical clock suspended from the ceiling to check the time and then over to the departure board above the columned archways whose flaps constantly clacked as the gears updated the trains’ time of arrival because they kept becoming delayed by the weather. He sighed once more and slumped into a wrought-iron bench and thought about making a phone call. Seeing as he apparently had plenty of spare time on his hands and he wasn’t quite sure where she was at this hour, he took out his cell phone, checked the battery life briefly, being grateful that it hadn’t discharged too much during his walk, and dialed.

-----------------------

14th InfBat Field HQ

“Feel free to do so,” he answered her initial request for bringing down the additional transports and securing a landing zone. “You may want to use this very field; it’s close by, and you’ve already got one transport on it, and it should be large enough for what you need to do. But if it doesn’t work, then there are actually several other parks nearby along the waterfront that might also be fairly suitable. It’s up to you.”

Then to her final statement surrounding the communicator, Braun answered and nodded solemnly in return, rolling the device around in the palm of his hand and eyeing it some, “Quite right, but we’ll see what we can do about it that works for you and for us.”

He then handed it over to Captain Meyers to examine and try to make something work that would be both secure and fairly efficient. They could theoretically keep it contained within its own comm system and filter it by allowing only voice transmissions through or they could just throw caution to the wind and simply hook the thing up to the main system, but that was quite reckless. Alternatively, they could just keep it completely isolated from the main systems if need be, but that was more of a last resort if they couldn’t secure it any other way. But ultimately it was not that big of a deal – the Army’s comm systems were not at all networked with anything else, were quite ancient by most people’s standards, and were regularly completely wiped and returned to their original state. Of course, that did not mean that the comm officer wouldn’t follow regulations about such things.

Braun then directed everyone’s attention back toward him by gesturing with his coffee mug towards the datatable once more and saying, “Alright, let’s see about getting everything and everyone started now, eh?”

---

Soon, the portion of the battalion that had been recommended to deal with the crisis at the stadium were driven out towards the complex using one of the army’s four-wheeled transport vehicles. It was fairly unremarkable, which seemed to be the norm for them, but it was relatively well-armored against small arms fire, quite sturdy, seated approximately fourteen soldiers, including the driver, and handled well as its chained snow tires rode through the blowing snow that had begun to deepen upon the roadways. The only real complaint was that the heater was rather lackluster, which barely put a dent against the cold, and was made worse by the fact that the thing leaked air like a sieve. Fortunately though, the trip had only taken several blocks, which, in this city, was a short distance but did seem like an eternity.

When they arrived, they were faced with the illumination of numerous gasoline-powered mobile floodlights surrounding the destruction and provided much needed light to it and the surrounding areas. Lined up along the main thoroughfare that headed out of the city were multiple buses and vans, repurposed for the hauling of the deceased and what was left of them out to the morgue to be identified. The clatter of metal against concrete pierced the cold, snowy air as jackhammers and breakers cracked at the slabs that still buried people. Machines weren’t the only things in the midst of this as construction workers, soldiers, and whoever showed up wanting to help picked through the rubble by hand, tossing the concrete and steel into separate dump trucks that idled nearby.

The other half of the battalion were shown the parts of the city that they were meant to be protecting, which were more of a residential/commercial mix, with thousand foot tall apartment and office buildings. Ordinarily the streets at this hour would be bustling with people, but with the martial law in effect and the cold winter night drawing near, there were few, if any, people walking and not a single car motoring down the streets. The sidewalks again had not been scraped free of snow this evening and the streetlights provided the only real light this night. It was immediately clear what targets needed to be protected around here as the population had quite clearly recognized the danger around them – the churches, public offices, and even the homes of some politicians and religious leaders – so windows were hastily boarded over to protect themselves, their families, and their possessions from being mistakenly attacked. They had no desire to see stray bullets or fires come bursting through.

-----------------------

Conference

Steepling his slender fingers, the Vice Chairman listened intently to everything the Advisor was saying concerning what could be accomplished from her side and glanced over both his own notes and the received ‘paperwork’ that laid out the payment schedule on the Segments’ bonds. He understood from a broad perspective what needed to be done politically. Resolving matters was not quite as simple as it would be in a quasi-dictatorship, such as the Corporation where he could simply send the order and have it be done, but in the Segments, it would needed to be debated on end before a legislative body before action could be taken. He knew speed was not one of a democratic state’s strong points, but on the upside, the differing opinion it provided could be immensely useful, which was indeed what he was seeking with these assembled representatives.

“Thank you, Advisor Tourneur,” he responded shortly after she had concluded and bowed his head. “The advancement of bond repayment would provide much needed liquidity for maintaining current services and would allow us to ensure that governmental employees are compensated on schedule – we want to avoid having to lay significant numbers off in these economic times and avoid reducing salaries and wages, especially during this season of the year. Likewise, we would be very much receptive to the Segments converting their bond holdings over to ones that are GDP-indexed and century-termed.”

“Now, regarding what can be done to resolve the sectarian violence, the main thing we wish to focus upon is decoupling religion from the political process in general – essentially the Corporation maintains a hands-off approach on matters of a religious nature, unless it is to the detriment of society, and the churches remove themselves from intervening in elections and matters of public office. We have had several ideas of accomplishing this: banning religious leaders from endorsing candidates, restricting these religions from being involved in the establishment or maintaining of political parties, enacting campaign finance reform that prevents private funding of campaigns and allows only public funding that can be attained via a small tax, expediting the prosecution of those involved in the recent violence so that reprisals against them and others can be limited, and eventually, when the previous have been enacted, holding general elections for all political positions within every locality in the coming months.”

[Roania]

Ecanus sighed and leaned forward on his chair. He hated these teleconferencing calls. He'd much prefer to be there in person. "That's all very well and good, but I don't feel like it addresses the general problem, which is that the Grummian state is disgustingly poorly organized. The mere fact things have reached the point where we are discussing... strategic investment was, I believe, the term the honorable Advisor used... suggests nation-building. But what kind of nation are you asking us to build?"

"Before I can suggest to The Imperial Diadem and its subjects that Grummia is, indeed, a place worth investing in, we would need to see concrete steps towards three simple goals. First, Grummia should take its place amongst civilized nation-states, and throw off the false trappings of a corporation." Ecanus counts in the Roanian fashion, holding up his palm and moving fingers down as he reaches them, and his voice sounds like he's addressing a child. "Second, we'd want a... a..." He glances at some notes by his desk. What was the barbarian term for it? Oh yes. "We'd like to see a social welfare system run by the government, instead of by superstitious corporations who make use of that hold on the poor to increase their power and then wind up going to war with one another over their imaginary differences. Third, we want those superstitious corporations, er..." It takes him a minute to find the appropriate word for them.

"The... churches, right? Yes. We want these churches, since we can't expect you to dispose of them all together, to lose all their property but the buildings they preach in, and totally disarmed. Fourth, we'd like to see across the board taxes on all privately held-enterprise and citizens so henceforth you can both service your debt and pay your services at the same time. Finally, we'd like to see an increase in the rates charged by the government-held utilities to the same standard across the entirety of the state for all industries and factories.This will allow these utilities to, hopefully, both make enough money to partially pay for themselves and eliminate the potential for corporations moving merely to take advantage of taxes or cheaper government-held goods."

"As to what we offer in exchange... well, I'm sure I can be persuaded to inform my government that we should transfer our current holdings into the century bonds, allow you to suspend repayment of debt without any commensurate increase in interest over the time period you need to get your affairs back in order, and speed up our own bonds held by the Grummian government." Ecanus flipped through some notes to give himself an air of business. "In addition, I could, on my own authority, with the proper encouragement, allow Grummian goods to be transferred to the Empire on board regular transport sans payment, allowing your manufacturers to develop a market cheaper there and potentially turn a profit."

[Scolopendra]

Throughout the City

Everything these people have and everything they do seems to be white with red trim. The white makes sense after a fashion, even if it's glossy, since it blends in well with the snow before it gets dirty as city snow inevitably does. The red trim forms outlines, however, which defeats the entire purpose of camouflage. Then again, the knights-errant have no interest in camouflage, not in this case. Their jeeps--and that's basically what they are--with their tires swapped out for snow treads rumble from the park and half-careen through the city, the 'half' coming from that they move quite a bit faster by their very nature than the lumbering APCs used by the Grummian army. When the good Dame said they were light motorized infantry, she wasn't kidding. The infantry is light and the motorization is light too, even if the jeeps have been up-armored with aftermarket plate and RPG fences.

The jeeps are, themselves, very small and optimized for fire-team operations. They leave the park by company, then split off by platoon, then by squad, and finally park themselves individually by their designated 'operation points.' As two knights stand guard, the other two unload the jeeps and set up their small white-and-red pavilion-style tents which are to be their guardhouses and their white-and-red banners which are to advertise that this location is now under the protection of the Winged Justice Order-Militant.

Then they stand guard, by twos. The buddy system is paramount, and keeping a chain of sight between guards vital. Despite the knightly pomp and oddity, they move with a practiced, determined care. No gaping, no 'idle' conversation that keeps them from maintaining their situational awareness, especially regarding windows and alleyways.

One might even imagine that they've done urban peacekeeping before.

* - * - *

The Stadium

The non-combat support personnel of the Order are not knights to a man; their 'Sirs' and 'Dames' are limited to what are basically work detail leaders in much the same way that the more legal non-militant knights-errant work. They share the tunics of their combat siblings but not the armor, and the tunics are much more utilitarian with patch pockets and tool loops. The trip up to the stadium passes in grim silence, and once they disembark to assay the site, there are no whistles or clucks of the tongue or even any sign of even passing shock.

One might even imagine that they've had to dig survivors--or, more likely, corpses--out of ruins before.

The sturdy--and out of place in her armor--Dame N'dbele steps up onto a bit of cast aside rubble to get a better look. "Oculus teams." Her voice is a rich contralto, though with a mildly ragged roughness around the edges. "Sweep over the wreckage. Infrared, EMF. Auriculus teams. Thumpers around perimeter. Determine stability. Secondary thumpers on stable pillars." Sweeping the area with unreadable brown eyes, she lights on whomever happens to have been assigned as her liaison to the Grummian authorities. "Do you have blueprints? Floorplans?"

Noting that she is no longer talking to them, the indicated sensor teams get to work. The 'oculus teams,' made up of the lighter and more flexible bodies among the knights and squires, carry blocky cylindrical tools similar to large handheld spotlights with small LCD screens on the back. They affix these scanners to their harnesses by simple turned-steel tubing stocks, then hop onto the nearest bits of debris. After forming a search line, they begin to pick their way over the wreckage, looking for the signatures of bodies that haven't gone cold or braindead yet. The 'auriculus teams' are heavier folk carrying heavier gear, meter-long frameworks of steel around a solid-looking rubber-soled piston. They put these on the ground on the stable and clear areas around the wreckage, then set down boxes containing seismic microphones. Then the pistons get to work, thumping the solid ground enough that the microphones elsewhere can hear them, and the subsonic echoes caused by the waves having to bounce around in pockets in the rubble.

Perhaps counter-intuitively, no one--not even the squires in the industrial exoskeletons clearly brought for the task--digs.

* - * - *

Conference

The International Trade Advisor smoothly raises an eyebrow at Ecanus' demands. A few moments pass as she figures out in her head exactly how to respond, not knowing off the top of her head how to address the Roanian but knowing it can't go without comment. "I am certain that the Legislative Unit will approve of your goals, Vice Chairman, and your suggested corrective action plan sounds reasonable, though perhaps incomplete through no fault of your own. You see, I share the concerns of the Roanian representative in that it is clear that religious factions have perhaps untenable amounts of secular power--official and unofficial--right now and they're probably not going to give that up lightly. While it's easy to write the law to ban their involvement in politics, enforcement will inevitably be difficult as not only will those religious powers do their utmost to hold onto their current power--through both overt and covert methods, particularly through their faithful--the executors of the law will also have their own biases to contend with. I don't say this to belittle your statement of intent," she says sympathetically and perhaps a touch too quickly, not meaning offense, "but there will be difficulties involved."

She thinks of appropriate parts of Scolopendran history and jots down a note. Everyone else can see her eyes glance down and the subtle movements of her shoulder as her off-camera hand writes; it's up to them whether they can discern these movements to be analogous to the e-inked 'ghostwriter' she's just written, and what that word happens to mean in this context.

"This being said, the Federated Segments will honestly admit not knowing what is best for Northrup-Grumman. This is why we ask for assurances rather than dictate terms which could quite possibly be extremely incompatible with your current situation. While we would very much like you to become a secular pluralistic state with a social security net, a system of contractual rights and responsibilities between citizens and government, and profitable, we cannot simply wave a magic wand and make it so, nor are we within our own rights to dictate that you do so."

That's not entirely fair. People with money can give or not give money to those without for whatever reason they please. Doesn't make it right. Plus, it'd still be unfair to the Grummian's honor to say point-blank that the Segments considers its investments now and for the foreseeable future a total loss and that it's being done to secure intangibles.

"We trust that you are competent enough to make the necessary changes--with sufficient guidance, mind, rather than diktat--to bring your nation under stable, solvent control. You are of course better informed in your situation than we are, so you know better what taxes to levy or not levy, what rights to ensure or not ensure, what to nationalize and what to keep private. The... accuracy of our current trust will be measured by results and these results fed back into future investments. We would like to offer our assistance in terms of what advice we can offer from our own history, but the decision as to what to do lies with yourself."

She glances down and her shoulder moves ever so slightly again in two firm motions. Most everyone should be able to tell that whatever she wrote a few minutes ago, she's just underlined it twice.

[Northrop-Grumman]

Conference

Vice Chairman Naelthasser retained his calm, reserved, yet attentive, demeanor while the Roanian Governor issues his demands and clasped his hands together, resting his elbows against the chair’s arms. He had wished that the conference’s outline had been adhered to, but that was not meant to be. But he did have the expectation that it would happen, though, particularly with the Roanians and their notoriety for not sticking to anything laid out by the ‘barbarians’. But, of course, there was only so much that could be done in one of these situations; you might as well just roll with the punches.

“Allow me to address your requests in succession,” he directed primarily towards the governor. “Firstly, our intention, upon the conclusion of this conference, is to devolve the current corporate state into a proper corporation, which will predominately be in the pursuit of profitability, instead of attempting to maintain the stability of an entire society; it will be wholly owned by a provisional government that will gradually begin the implementation of the changes that the Chair has discussed beforehand and what has been decided upon here. We fully understand the inefficiencies in our corporate state that do not properly scale from employing hundreds of thousands to the governing of seventeen billion people, and we wish to rectify it through the establishment of a newly structured state dedicated to governance.

“Secondly, due to the highly individualistic nature of the population and naturally the budgetary concerns, the rapid implementation of a social welfare system would be infeasible. However, we have considered the implementation of social insurance, designed to maintain a standard of living for those presently unemployed and those currently retired but lack pensions or other retirement funds due to corporate bankruptcy or simply neglect. It would be primarily financed through payroll taxes and we expect that it would prevent the more horrendous cases of suffering with the added benefit of injecting demand into the economy and perhaps aid in reviving it.

“Thirdly, your wish of appropriating approximately the entirety of church-held properly and armaments would only serve to inflame the situation, and since it would be coupled with the previously mentioned reforms, they would perceive it quite correctly as a blatant attack upon them and an attempt at stomping out the religious community.” The elven leader cleared his throat and then continued on, speaking partly to the trade advisor now. “From your perspectives, my explanation is most likely not understandable, but I believe I can shed light upon the unique situation that we are in by providing a needed but condensed background of Grummian history. The event that sparked the previous civil war was when a hostile force seized control over the corporate government and a portion of the military and sought to ruthlessly slaughter those that opposed them and eradicate every faith worshipped here. Since the rightful government was in disarray and scattered throughout the galaxy, the churches fortunately provided the structure and manpower necessary to prevent the opposing forces from taking the central regions of the nature and would, combined with what remained of the infantry and armored divisions, become essentially the army that retook the rest of the country. I personally fought in that war, and while I do not generally subscribe to their or any religious beliefs, I well understand that the churches regard themselves as protectors and would create another civil war if we were to attempt to disarm them. We must tread carefully.”

He then returned his focus to the governor. “Fourthly, caution must be taken regarding the implementation of further taxation upon the population, because if it is unfairly levied, it would hinder the economic recovery and, in the long term perspective, would make the repayment of debt much more infeasible. Fifthly, the utilities have always maintained a consistent rate schedule across the country and have maintained their goal of simply breaking even over time.”

“Finally, we would greatly appreciate those actions being taken, governor, and would consider you as our foremost contact with the Radiant Empire, which does provide tremendous opportunities for your Martian territory and our own,” he answered the last bit of what Ecanus had said, fully understanding what the ‘encouragement’ meant and not particularly caring for it one iota. “And we understand the position of the Federated Segments and would like to reiterate that we are doing everything in our power to bring the situation under control, restructure the government, restore our economic health, and appease our creditors; also, we do welcome whatever advice can be brought to the table.”

OOC: Gak, sorry for the lack of response lately; I've been sick for about the past week. I just addressed the conference and left everything else as is until the next post, so that the main plotline can still keep rolling along. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning anything.

[Scolopendra]

Conference

The combination of 'church-held' and 'armaments' unsettles Golde slightly. Sure, the Federated Segments is an armed society, if a regulated one, and plenty of believers have plenty of civilian-grade weapons. The heavy emphasis on education and service and duty is where most of the control lies, and whenever a single believer decides that he needs to go crusade against the beardies or jihad against the cracker-eaters the government drops on them like the proverbial sixteen tons of bricks. The closest analog she can think of are religiously-oriented orders of knights-errant militant like the ASA but they're already in the deep gray area of Scolopendran legality and even the ASA, power that it is in the Periphery, knows that it's better to stay on the good side of the secular Military Services. History's shown, however, that when sectarians get armed and angry and enforce the sect, it's very hard to dislodge that since opposition only reinforces the divide. The Scolopendrans intentionally keep such things small, and explain internally why they do. This is a different matter entirely.

"I suppose this leads to a very important question," she says quietly after thinking for a moment. "in the mind of the average Grummian, what takes priority: the secular state or the sacred church? If the latter, then the state will be, at realistic best, a coalition of vaguely willing religions. That could be workable, so long as there is some sort of stable legal recourse between varying armed sects so they can make decisions, compromise, trade, and come to consensus on differences without resorting to putting the infidels to the sword."

[Roania]

Ecanus rubbed his head. Ever since the Osage massacre, he'd been getting headaches, and here they were getting even worse. He didn't want to sort this out. He'd thought it would be a good opportunity to do the right thing, to help people who'd removed the thorny problem of Arielle Aleanrahel ne Hacoen from his lap, and to make some money on the side. But how could he do that if they didn't want to be helped?

Behind him, his wife quietly coughed. It was so quiet the waiting attendees wouldn't hear it, but it was there, and his expression sort of froze. "Of course, I respect the Grummians are, at least by law, a sovereign nationstate and settled ally of Her Most Blessed Majesty, and would not dream of 'imposing' terms on you. Your language is not my first or second, so I may have some poor grasp of it." A palpable lie. But it settled her.

[Northrop-Grumman]

Stadium

Captain Barnes, who was both the chief logistics officer overseeing the military aspect of these recovery operations and the Dame N’dbele’s main liaison here, was a relatively short and stocky woman, used to having to help her subordinates set up and break down any and all equipment – only the generals really got out of having to do some manual labor. Her hair and most of her head were covered by a woodland-camouflaged helmet, which was admittedly a poor color choice for the winter here, and had a set of goggles strapped atop it for when the blowing snow proved to be too much for her eyes. Also, she lacked the usual rifle that most soldiers carried and instead had a sidearm strapped to her utility belt.

She pressed her earpiece against her ear and listened to the reports that she was receiving from the teams that were carefully surveying the underground portions of the dig. Structural instability in the upper access tunnels. Fuel leaks from cars that had been crushed by falling concrete. Cave-in in Tunnel A. Other teams still need to report in. Wonderful.

When addressed by the knight, Barnes frowned a little, temporarily flicked off the microphone she was using so that she could still receive these reports but no one could hear her conversing and answered, “Ma’am, we’ve got the usual datapads for that.” she handed her own over to N’dbele and then pointed behind her. “And if something happens to that, we’ve got laminated hard copies back in the command tent.”

Elsewhere, those digging around the site paid little attention to the knights that had shown up – every able-bodied person was needed for the task and it did not matter where they came from – and simply continued their work; there was much that needed to be done and now was not a good time to be gawking at these foreigners or exchanging pleasantries. The weather had begun to grow more and more unpleasant as dusk had fallen on the streets; the little warmth that had been provided by the blocking cloud cover had dissipated, a bitter wind was now sweeping throughout the cavernous streets and growing in intensity, and the precipitation, in the form of pellets of ice and snow, had started as another storm front had begun to descend upon the city from the north. The people knew that they needed to be quick, yet careful about digging before they became buried in the whiteness.

Then, adjacent to the only remaining upright and intact stands of the structure, someone sounded an air horn and, without further instruction, those picking at the concrete debris stepped out the way, parting like the Red Sea as four paramedics hauled a simple, light stretcher out of a medical tent and another kept his pace behind with a set of white boxes with red crosses upon them. They scurried over towards where the sound had emanated from and found a man, barely alive and suffering from multiple internal injuries, crushed bones, and hypothermia. Carefully, they slid his body over onto the stretcher, covered him with blankets to block his body from the bitter wind, and bolted back towards the medical tents.

-----------------------

Conference

“That would be a question that has never been asked of the people,” the Vice Chairman answered. “For a significant portion of the Corporation’s existence, the overarching stance by the national government had been a ‘hands-off’ approach towards the multitude of subdivisions within the nation – allow them to do that which they think is best but providing needed correction if they fall too far out of line. Essentially, the national government addresses policies that affect everyone but are infeasible to the subdivisions such as monetary and economic policies, maintaining a consistent foreign policy, providing a final verdict in judicial matters, and maintaining the defense of the entire nation. The localities deal with the smaller, more volatile issues. Very rarely has the state ever intervened in local affairs…until now. The question will be answered.”

The elven leader gazed downward thoughtfully for a moment before finally responding. “Still, there has been a considerable amount of backlash from the religious community regarding their leaders, particularly with the disclosure of their backroom dealings to commit murder, the deaths and arrests of the more prominent ones, and a general weariness of being drawn into violence by those they placed a great deal of trust. Although, considering the circumstances, the backlash can and, most certainly, will be violent, which would be another purpose for the existing state of martial law, but ultimately it is felt that the interdenominational or interfaith conflicts will eventually resolve themselves once we take out their primary means of oppression.” He settled his hands onto his lap and finally stated, “I am optimistic, yet cautious.”

Then he nodded towards the Roanian governor understandingly and replied simply, “I understand.”

OOC: Just giving a heads up, I’ll be out of town for a week starting on Sunday the 23rd. The first part of the week I’ll have access to the internet but I should be quite busy, and for the second part of the week, I’ll have limited to no internet access.