Fall of the Circuit (Closed, Attn. Swith Witherward)

[Swith Witherward]

"No intentional harm will come to any citizen," D'Prieg assured Robert. "But unintentional? If a man steps in front of a combine, he can expect to be run over. We'll do our best to see that doesn't happen, but I can't promise it won't. We can stand to lose constructs, and what we bring here won't be sentient, but that means that your citizens will be dealing with machines linked to a central mind. Despite the ability to access sensory information, that central mind can't stop a machine if the machine does not see the person jumping in front of it. Likewise, I wouldn't recommend petting the squid."

The delegation politely fell silent in order for Robert to finish his presentation, although parts of it were disheartening. Another silent conversation transpired as the President continued to speak and Harris returned, and then D'Prieg nodded and Aubrey cleared her throat.

"Oil isn't a problem," she folded her hands. In for an inch, in for a mile. "We can fit your vehicles with an alternate power source. We've done so for other nations when they were facing similar challenges. However, we require you to sign a contract that explicitly states that you will not share the technology with any other nation on Earth. This planet isn't ready for it, and too many nations would abuse it as a means to conquer others for sake of outdated religious or political differences."

"We can't do anything about foreign aid," Baconni chimed in, "short of shutting down supply lines or perhaps hacking databases. Convocation standard practice is to swarm, and that tends to disrupt everything. We can't do that here. I'm afraid it's up to you to put an end to it."

The wreaver turned reptilian eyes on Harris. The man was rubbing him the wrong way, although Baconni couldn't place his claw on it. Something about him was exceptionally annoying. But he was human, and most humans were deemed obnoxious by Baconni's species.

"Your people use microwave energy blasters and blinding laser beams as well as chemical agents and deafening sonic blasters when engaging in humane crowd control. We use psionic intrusion. It's more practical, costs next to nothing to keep operational, and is absolutely effective on most species. Psychological warfare is a horrible thing. Coupled with the physical presence of very real monsters that move exceptionally fast and aren't easily taken down by your conventional weapons, I think your enemy will be more than convinced that their society is fucked." A grim smile parted the wreaver's thin lips as he added, "Plus you've never seen our method of deployment."

A raspy cough interrupted him as D'Preig cleared his throat. "Gentlemen and Lady, let's not get too fancy with deployment. Our treaty with Cerithades is precarious. I'd rather they not mistake our intent to help as an intent to actually invade this nation. Six-legged space weasel intervention is not high on my list of things to experience again."

"Hell, get the bastards to participate. That'll end things quickly," Baconni grumbled.

D'Prieg's eyes narrowed. "That will end in tears."



Nessa yawned and stretched her arms above her, tiny claws fluttering as she reached for the ceiling. Her back ached from lying prone on the bed, and her stomach protested the lack of quality nourishment. The lizard sat up and surveyed the room housing her.

"Hello? May I leave, please?" she called out in hope of being overheard.

[Highfort]

Doctor Shaefer shook himself awake, his spectacle nearly falling from the bridge of his nose as he jerked up toward the sound of Nessa speaking in a soft, soothing tone from the medical bed. Adjusting his glasses, he stood up and stretched, mimicking her arm movements as some of his muscles had fallen asleep with him when he'd nodded off against the sink while looking at papers. The clipboard sat on the floor in front of him, and he swept it up before she could notice that he hadn't been paying attention for the last ten or so minutes.

"Just a moment, Ms..." he looked down at the scribbles on the patient sheet to refresh himself, mind still in a fog, "Miss Nessa! Right, right, the VIP. I'm sorry, I haven't been getting much sleep. Lots of patients, not enough time... you know how it is. Ahem, let me just make sure you're stable before I release you. The nurses left you a change of clothes since you got blood on your current pair - they're in the wash right now. Nurse Adams changed you into the medical gown, don't fret."

Nessa had been purposefully-kept detached from any medical devices as Shaefer had been unsure how her physiology would react to the machines and vise-versa. He'd been given little advanced warning beyond the fact that Swith Witherward was an advanced nation with significant interests in biotech, and as such hadn't done much to prepare beyond telling the nurses to burn anything that touched her blood and to prepare an isolation unit in case she came down with anything contagious. Luckily, Nessa seemed no worse for wear and he hoped her readings would reflect this.

Hooking her up to the oximeter and the heartbeat monitor, Shaefer nearly jumped out of his skin as he took her blood pressure. It was unreasonably high - any human woman would've gone into cardiac arrest already. Clearly, this lizard was made of different stuff. The oximeter read high levels despite her low heart rate and slow breathing, and he got the feeling that nothing that he recorded would really be of any value.

"I'm going to skip the rest of the tests on this chart since it's clear no one's going to believe the results, and no one's going to read them, anyways," he let out a weary sigh before stepping away from the bed and closing the blinds on the single window that allowed those on the catwalks to peer in on the injured, "I presume thanks to your biological properties, you're sufficiently healed to be walking around. The wound in your head stopped bleeding shortly after you were admitted in and, for all intents and purposes, you seem fine - as fine as someone can be without proper medical measurements confirming this, I mean."

Opening the door to let himself out, the stale air of the mountain assaulting his nose with the odor of sweating individuals and dripping rocks, he offered a smile before gesturing at the plain black suit with pencil skirt that had been set out on the chair next to Nessa's bed, "Please, take some time to get dressed and get your bearings. I'll escort you to the meeting room so you can catch up with the rest of the delegation. If you're hungry, I can fetch you something from the mess."


"I'll make sure all the boys and girls know not to jump in front of the giant squid for shits and giggles," Harry huffed, though a small smile graced his lips, "As long as those rebel fucks think we're not playing around, they should come running back to mommy and daddy when the Republic shows up to sweep away the 'invaders'."

"General Vitkoll, language, these are distinguished guests," Robert frowned, attempting to play the part of dignitary for once - usually a position reserved for the ever-wooden Jefferson, "Be polite, this isn't the mess hall and you're not fraternizing with your coworkers."

Harry merely shrugged, smile still on his face as he observed the delegation speaking in-turn. The inability to deal with foreign aid annoyed him - what kind of advanced civilization couldn't blockade some sea and airports without needing to swarm everything? - but the psychological warfare bit had him intrigued and he was pleased with the offer of alternate power sources. It looked like Swith Witherward had something worth offering after all - besides moral support, which the General dismissed as worthless windbag wordplay in place of an honest 'No, we can't help you'.

Mention of the Thade puzzled him, and Robert voiced Harry's concerns with a question, "The Cerithades? Sir, do you mean to imply that a third party may get involved in this war - a third party that thinks you're actually invading us? Because given your advanced technology, I'm not so sure we can handle them if they bring troops to intervene as well."

Before Harry had a chance to point out how insane that was of a risk to take, he was cut off by the arrival of Lieutenant Hendrickson and Colonel Xeno, both bearing gifts shoved beneath their armpits and held by nimble fingers. Maps, charts, and folders of all kinds were unceremoniously dumped onto the meeting-room table before being spread out by the duo, silently. Viktor was the first to break the shuffle of paper and plastic to explain what exactly was going on to the delegates.

"Carla's been spending the last few hours out with my team on recon for the extraction mission," he raised several aerial pictures of the Highfort taken shortly after it succumbed to the rebel siege, "That's why we were in the area you guys crash-landed in."

"We were looking for an exfil site," Carla explained, sifting through the myriad of notes to find something, "Ah, here. I have an insider who was part of the siege force that took the city earlier today. He's loyal, so he's been assigned to guard duty and sent me pictures of all the schedules. Right now, if we drop in without a distraction, we'll have no way out. Extra guards have been put on-duty for shift overlap since they know we're going to attempt something tonight, before the execution tomorrow morning."

"That's where you come in," she continued, "We've been informed that you're planning a false flag. If you can get troops in by this evening, the night before the execution, they'll be too busy fighting them off to actually bother watching Amanda's cell. She's hardly their top priority given that they have access to munitions, vehicles, and maps inside the High Fort. If it's a choice between her and it, they'll keep the city."

"So what are we looking at?" Carla concluded, pulling a laminated map with dry-erase marker ink smudged all over it, "Where's the initial approach and how are the troops fanning out. We want them near enough that they'll draw attention away from the High Fort itself but not too close that they'll try and hunker down inside the facilities. And they need to stay away from the forest, because that's the most reliable area to extract people."

[Swith Witherward]

Nessa's processor completed its internal diagnostic as Shaefer spoke. It was true - his instruments' readings would be conflicted at best, and confusing despite all efforts to explain at worst.

"I am operating at 72 percent efficiency, Doctor," she stated once she was certain she had privacy. The words felt heavy on her dry tongue and, although she lacked a slur, she worried that her voice would come across as overly weary. There was nothing to be done for it. Her operational level was acceptable by her species' standards. "It will take some time to return to 100 percent but I can expect to be at that level by the end of the hour."

Reptilian fingers touched the skirt's material. Cotton blend. Not too shabby. It wouldn't be as comfortable as her usual construct's uniform but it would suffice. Nessa was too well mannered to speak poorly of such a kind gift. She adopted her human construct form once more and dressed quickly, not wanting to keep the busy physician tied up, and then cracked the door slighty to peer into the hallway beyond. Nostrils twitched as she assessed the setting. Satisfied that nothing there seemed too amiss, the door opened to allow her to join him.

"Thank you for your kindness and respect, Doctor," the corners of her mouth curled into a shy smile. "I only hope to be able to return the favor one day. The suit suffices. May I join my delegation? Must you escort me? Would the time not be better spent getting caught up on your rest cycle?"




"We won't have to worry about the Thade if we mind our diplomacy channels," Aubrey grunted, not minding Harry's crude language a bit. "As loathe as I am to say this, we should brief their ambassador. Oh, he's a prickly bastard, but he has a wicked sense of humor. We'll tell him we're dropping agriculture equipment in to simulate combat. Putting Highfort through its paces, so to speak. He'd probably stand up and clap both sets of hands. More importantly, he'd keep other xenos off our backs."

"Do you run a risk of the ruse getting out to the monarchists?" Baconni crossed his arms and arched a brow at the woman. "They're a fairly honest species."

Aubrey laughed dryly. "No. Not unless the monarchists know how to contact life on other planets. Now, how about drop points?"

No sooner had she said it than Viktor returned, and with Carla in tow. Aubrey (and Tulg) breathed a sigh of relief. The Swithwardians harbored no ill will towards her over her behavior on the tarmac so long ago. In fact, knowing the tenacious woman was still healthy and on Robert's side only boosted the party's spirits. They listened carefully as she brief them... Oh the joys of planning an invasion! D'Prieg had never done so, real or otherwise. A silvery brow arched and he cast a sidelong glance at the wreaver the moment Carla mentioned troops.

"This is your call," Baconni pulled a map towards him. "We can put things wherever you need them. We can drop as much as you need, holding back some for a second wave. The tactics are unusual for us - for Nifid. Normally we would drop in an Overseer. She would command the swarm. The swarm would hit the city, stripping it of biomatter in order to fuel its advance. Obviously, we can't and won't do that here. Instead, you have one retired Overseer, biomachines, and squid. But you need to tell us how your people in general would react to aliens. We can't really plan our approach if we don't know."

"In other words, would the monarchist forces rise to the challenge or run for the hills?" Aubrey explained. "Hunkering down isn't an issue. Not when a single bull squid is the size of a 747. They'll push down walls, uproot trees, trample gardens and make a nuisance of themselves. If that doesn't put the fear of God into those soldiers, the harvesting equipment will. It's the stuff of nightmares, and sentient. In the dark, sans lights courtesy of the squid, it'll be as if the earth parted to unleash hell's demons. We drop them in contained in pods, ala War of the Worlds in feel. They usually make a decent sized crater, so I'd advise picking a drop zone that isn't residential. Perhaps we could even land them near a power plant and a water processing facility? Take out all the utilities while we're at it."

"Whose planning this?" the wreaver grunted in annoyance.

"Who held the line while you sat in your ship?" the woman sniffed.

"Enough." D'Prieg raised a hand to ward off the chance of old disagreements surfacing. "You'll still need an Overseer to control them. We have one. I suggest you drop her exo, unless it's no longer serviceable."

It was Aubrey's turn to sputter. "Sir, you can't be serious! You can't put her back in an exo. We deprogrammed them! It took ages, and Nessa has been retired a long time."

"Damn it, woman! Unless you have Grim stuffed in your back pocket, we don't have much of a choice. We don't have Malice, no thanks to the Agymnums dropping a 4.5 kilometers long ship on her. So Nessa will have to suffice. I trust her. She's level headed, and she retains her compassion. She's your best choice for keeping civilian casualties to bare minimum."

"Respectfully, sir, we have the MAB," Aubrey rose from her chair to point out the brute of a human still standing along the wall. "He-"

"Isn't going to run around the woods playing pretend. He's highly specialized military equipment," Baconni stood to interject. "Granted, Nessa is also military grade, but she's reassigned to your offices. I won't have you using my MAB to-"

A harsh rasp indicated that the MAB had cleared his throat. He blinked at the pair before turning golden eyes on Carla. "I go with Colonel Hendrickson. There will be no further discussion on this matter."

It was a typical three-ring circus, but Tulg didn't expect anything else. Not when Triumvir collided over nonsense. Granted, they didn't have the Academy of Science weighing in, but the construct didn't care at this point. His encroaching headache was a direct result of the tension between wreaver and human, and it was time to wash his hands of them. His gaze shifted from Carla to D'Prieg, but the man offered no objection. The MAB wasn't prone to flighty choices. He had earned the man's trust long ago.

"Your chances of success increase with him alongside you," D'Prieg wiped a tired eye with his fingertips as he offered a final word. "His presence will allow Nessa to better coordinate her forces. We'll know precisely where the extraction team is at all times."

"We should finalize the rest. For instance, anyone working near the squid will need gas masks," the wreaver grinned. "Not that there will be any gas involved, but the smell alone is rather overwhelming. I suggest we have the squid land where the wind is in our favor, no? MAB, apprise the appropriate parties back home. They'll need to know where to drop. Ball park it for now, if you must."




The construct shut down her olfactory bundle a few seconds too late. The stench of rotting fish and a darker decay wafting from the pultiteuthid's body washed over her, causing bile to rise in her throat, and she retched. The creature was due to molt soon but had not yet shed its now necrotic outer layer. Large boils had erupted across its back and legs and, although they looked pustulent, the construct knew that the sebaceous glands under the dead tissue were filled with a natural antibiotic that would leak and ooze to form a protective slime across the creature's tender, newly formed skin. She found herself once again wondering why her head of state had requested the creatures in this stage rather than shipping ones ready for slaughter, but this was his business and not hers. She was simply going to follow orders.

She opened her mouth to address the agritech beside her, gagged, and then flailed her hands to indicate she hadn't yet regained her composure. The squat Turvlig male shrugged and patiently waited for her to speak. He, too, found D'Prieg's request odd. He'd heard that most species couldn't stomach the smells 'thids produced (his own species lacked the ability to taste or smell anything ergo he thought them sweet and somewhat cute). Why ship them to a nation populated by humans?

"How many will fit in a drop pod?" she finally managed to choke out.

The agritech issued a stream of clicks and whistles in reply, and the answer seemed to satisfy the lizard beside him. She pinched her nose and backed away from the tech and behemoth, for once in her life thankful that she wasn't included on a foreign excursion. At least loading up the ghrafts would be easier, and more pleasant. Everything would be ready within the hour, and the drop could happen anytime beyond that. She didn't question why the MAB had provided rough coordinates near a major city or two rather than the farmland showing on older satmaps.

[Highfort]

"Miss Nessa?" Doctor Shaefer scratched the back of his head as a seemingly-human woman dressed in the provided clothes peeped out the crack of the clinic's doorway, "Ah, right, you're a shapeshifter... That should've been at the top of the dossier, in my opinion... Try not to do that too often in front of some of the other staff - not everyone's fully up-to-speed on your capabilities and we wouldn't want to scare any of the guards. Soldiers and their bullets are far too easily parted."

Her mention of efficiency left a slight frown on his face. He wasn't one to prattle in the affairs of other nations but the good doctor - ever the humanitarian, though the prefix didn't seem to apply in this case - couldn't help but wonder if she was the product of conditioning or if her "construct" status granted her this viewpoint. What kind of monsters would birth sapient life who would only ever know slavery?

"Escorting guests is part of normal protocol," he clarified, deciding to shelve such culturally-insensitive questions for another day. They needed the Swithwardians, so regardless of his opinions, their practices would have to be tolerated, "It would be irresponsible of me to leave you to wander the tunnel network on your own; my rest will come once this is all sorted out."

"Besides," he insisted, gently nudging her down the correct hallway as he followed behind, "It's not every day that I have the privilege of treating a VIP, Miss. Right this way."


"As long as no one else gets involved in this war, I don't care if you have to contact every species you know and tell them to stay off our backs," Harry grunted, frowning though his eyes betrayed the relief coursing through his veins. The last thing that the Republic needed was more outsiders meddling in their affairs with ulterior motives. At least the Swithwardians could be relied upon to be friendly - though whether they had ulterior motives of their own was something the General of the Armies was suspicious about.

At the mention of the MAB accompanying Carla, Viktor raised an eyebrow and coughed. Carla hadn't exactly been the most friendly toward the Swithwardians during the diplomatic visit, and he doubted the MAB held much regard for the Vanguard's Armed Forces. At the very least, he'd barely heard of them. Carla's reputation certainly did not precede her; neither did Viktor's or even Harrison's.

"We talked during the original diplomatic mission," Carla clarified, shooting the MAB a small grin, "He offered a glimpse into just how advanced their military systems are."

"And?" Robert tapped his fingers pensively.

"With all due respect, sir, we should be grateful that they're dropping in civilian equipment and farm animals," she replied, reorienting the landing zone map and producing two dry-erase markers so they could get down to the business of planning, "If this was a real war, they'd be done and cleaning up the mess before we even have a chance to retaliate."

Viktor let out an involuntary shudder as he eyed the reptilian individual with some apprehension, "Very well, if the, um, MAB wishes, he may accompany us to assist in the extraction of the Consul."

With that business settled, as tense as the atmosphere was surrounding Nessa's place in the mission - luckily Jefferson was absent, or he would've protested and renewed the arguments once more - the team could move on to the actual logistics of the mission.

"The High Fort is divided into seven levels. It's designed with a slope - with the number corresponding to how low the level is relative to the others. It's stacked a lot like a pyramid, with the higher levels being smaller than the lower," Carla explained, handing the markers over to Viktor to draw three overlapping rectangles to indicate what she was talking about, "The outer defenses comprise Levels I and II. Those will be the easiest to sneak past once the distraction is deployed; there's no real sense in protecting training grounds, hallways, and empty store rooms. We sacked most of the supplies when we abandoned the Fort during the siege, so it's a low priority for them."

The surroundings became the focus of her discussion and Viktor highlighted the important areas accordingly.

"To the south of where we'll be making our approach is the ocean. The High Fort is nestled between the ocean and the mountains, and the ocean is the perfect place to drop in from," Carla pulled several snapshots to distribute to the delegation, "As you can see, there's minimal defenses present on the shoreline and these are the least-protected areas of Level I and II."

"Unfortunately, the wind blows south, so if we drop in the squids near the mountainside where they'll no-doubt do the most damage to utilities, the smell will blanket the fort and the city," Viktor pinched his nose in displeasure, "Tonight's supposed to have heavy winds as well - perfect to cover any noise we make, but that means the smell will spread faster as well."

"I think we should minimize the damage done to the utilities, Lieutenant," Harry interjected, "We do want to retake the city, after all, and there's little sense in retaking her if she's no longer a workable asset for the war effort."

"We need to buy time until we can retake the city," Robert cut him off, "If disabling their power and water drives them out, then all the better. We have plenty of supplies here, anyways, so if we need to restock the city, we can."

"All I'm saying is we could do a whole lot worse than retaking it with all that food and medical supplies intact," the General shrugged, "Our ground forces will move into the forest in the northeast after the Colonel and the Lieutenant deploy their team; that's obviously not an ideal location to drop in the squid."

"If we drop them in through the west, however, they won't be hitting any key targets," Viktor replied, "I don't want them leaving the squid alone - and I certainly don't want to have to force the squid to assault the fort. They'll raise their defenses, not lower them."

"Gentlemen, let's try and inform our allies of the full layout before we start arguing," Carla rubbed her forehead in frustration, "There's still five other levels we have to contend with and factor into our approach."

Before any further headway could be made in planning, the cacophony of voices in the conference room were cut off by knocking on the wall.

"Mr. President, General, Colonel, Lieutenant, and all else present," Jefferson Smith offered a reserved smile as beads of sweat made their way down the sides of his face, "I couldn't secure an extension. The execution will proceed tomorrow morning and they have a contingency in place if we try anything."

"Contingency?" Harry huffed, "What could those castrated little twits possibly have for leverage?"

"Saltpeter," Jefferson began, "They-"

"Saltpeter?! Hah, what the hell has that got to do with anything?" the General let out a raspy chuckle intermixed with coughs, "Do they really think that's that impressive?"

"Saltpeter Paine, sir," Jefferson finished. Robert's face whitened and the President felt his knees threatening to buckle.

"Who the hell is Saltpeter Paine?" Viktor's eyes narrowed, "Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a serious problem?"

"Paine was our arms supplier during the HDMA and High Freemen's heyday," Robert let out a sigh, "He told me - before he went underground - that he had one final trick left up his sleeve that would keep him relevant in case anyone who didn't like his business dealings with the Republic managed to capture him."

"Indeed, sir," Jefferson confirmed the President's worst fears, "And now the rebels have their hands on it. They say they have both him and his daughter in custody right now and are prepared to deploy DEMAND on all Republican states if we attempt to free the Consul."

"DEMAND? They're bluffing, that project never got off the ground. Torollum barely had time to spitball the sketches before they were toppled," Harry snorted.

"DEMAND, sir?" Carla scratched the back of her head, "I'm not aware of any projects with that name."

"Decentralized Energetic Mass Atomic Nullification Device," Robert gritted his teeth, "I wasn't sure if that's what Paine was talking about when he mentioned taking on a development contract with some foreigners, but I knew it was rolling around the Regime's labs when they were dethroned. No actual prototypes, but the idea was there. I assume the rebels have it wired up to the nuclear stockpile we've been hearing reports about from Northern Hellenia?"

"As far as we can tell, they're serious. None of our intelligence reports have corroborated anything interesting being transported or attached to the nukes, but we can't be sure that they haven't done so in secret," Jefferson unrolled the piece of paper he'd transcribed Lord Champion's message onto, "The false king makes it clear: the Republic or her."