Chapter 10.2 – Think, Cirakari

I left the crew in the waiting area as I walked toward the Hammerstar representatives. They were slick and polished against the gritty background. This polished formality reeked of something foul, like oil over polluted waters.

“Commander Cirakari,” greeted the taller of the two, a man with a smooth, striking face and a head shaved to perfection, dressed in a fitted coral-blue suit that felt oddly out of place in this hangar. “I trust your flight was smooth?” He offered a hand.

“We made it,” I replied, giving his hand a firm shake. “I was told Vice President Alexey would be here. Grand Admiral Baraka specifically mentioned his involvement.”

He glanced sideways, adjusting his cuffs with polished ease. “A small complication kept Alexey away. I’m Thomas, head of logistics for Hammerstar Zhynka’s branch, and this is Tyco,” he said, nodding toward the other man. “He’s our sales and operations planning manager.”

Tyco gave a quick nod, silent and calculating. Short, thin, and with a demeanor as unobtrusive as his plain gray suit, he looked the type to fade into a crowd if you blinked.

“Then let’s not waste time,” I said, crossing my arms. “The Grand Admiral assured me everything was ready. I’m here to collect our shipment, nothing more.”

Thomas offered a carefully tempered smile. “Commander, we should discuss a few logistics before we load. We’ve arranged a meeting room for us to talk in a more comfortable setting.”

“Comfortable? These two corporate smooth-talkers had planned this all along,” I thought. “I prefer to handle things here,” I replied. “Whatever needs negotiating was already settled with Alexey. I’m just here for the cargo.”

Thomas’s smile wavered, but he recovered quickly. “Very well, then,” he said. “As it stands, Commander, we can only supply half of what was initially requested.”

I stiffened. “Excuse me? This is a military operation on behalf of the Alliance of United Nations of Trappist. You have an obligation to supply what was promised.”

Thomas remained cool, a classic trait of political corporatism. “We understand our commitments, but the Alliance’s constant delays in transferring funds have created insurmountable cash-flow issues. We couldn’t afford to pay the overpriced costs to deliver you a full cargo.”

Tyco’s expression was unreadable, almost daring me to lose my temper. “We’d be far more comfortable discussing the complexities in a more private setting,” he pressed with barely veiled irritation.

“Half the supplies are unacceptable,” I snapped. “Baraka warned me about this. He mentioned Alexey was…testing boundaries. I can assure you, he won’t appreciate a repeat.”

Thomas stood firm in his mediator persona. “We’re simply asking for cooperation, Commander,” he said smoothly. “Our resources are stretched thin, and it’s an unfortunate reality of our financial constraints. But the A.U.N.T is the main culprit for this problem.”

“Then you’ll have to deal with the Admiralty.” I matched his gaze, unyielding. “If you thought I’d step around the chain of command, you misjudged me.”

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Tyco glanced around as if to check who might be listening. “There are ways to handle this more efficiently, Commander,” he replied, shifting into that passive-aggressive tone that made my skin crawl. “All we need to do is form a compelling case to present to the Admiralty, this might prevent unnecessary delays.”

“Do you understand what’s at stake?” I said, fighting the urge to raise my voice. I’ve had my fair share of this corporatism bullshit. If I would like to get shipment, I would have to at least try to work with them. “You know what, nevermind. I’ll call Baraka and ask to solve this ‘delay in transferring funds’ problem. Meanwhile, you two get to work on ways to bring me a full shipment.”

Thomas placed a hand lightly on my arm. “Commander, the situation is…larger than just debt payment. Debt clearing alone won’t be enough. We’re talking about survival, not just logistics.”

I pushed his hand away. “What the hell are you talking about? This is starting to look like a conspiracy deal—”

“No conspiracy, Commander,” Thomas interrupted, his face pale. “The Alliance is pooling the taxes of all the Vieolovento’s nations, and yet, they manage to delay every single payment. This raises questions, how can we confide all of your military ships in the hands of a fragmented Alliance? Our concern isn’t merely financial—it’s strategic.”

“So your plan is to hoard ammunition?” I said, incredulous. “And sell it off to the highest bidder? This is beyond conspiracy, this is treason!”

“Careful, Commander,” Tyco said quietly. “We’re talking about securing the resources to win. An asset too poorly managed is no asset at all.”

I exhaled slowly, reining in my temper. “Our conversation ends here,” I stated. “The Grand Admiral will know exactly how you’ve tried to twist this arrangement. And the Admiralty doesn’t take kindly to games.”

Thomas’s eyes narrowed. “We aren’t playing games, Commander. But we would appreciate it if you allowed us to make our case directly. It could expedite things.”

“If you had a case to make, you should have made it to the Admiralty.”

Thomas and Tyco exchanged glances before Thomas finally conceded, “We can get the full shipment in the following days. But we don’t want to transfer it directly to the Alliance, we want to sell it to your nation, Fillandril.”

“Fillandril?” I repeated, aghast. “So this is your plan? You want to avoid the debt of the Alliance by billing an individual nation?”

“Again, this is not only about finances. This is about winning the war. We want to make sure that Fillandril will receive the best possible supplies. It is a steady and reliable nation with an impressive record of Admirals. We believe you would be ideal for maintaining this…partnership,” Tyco replied, his voice oozing with corporate finesse.

“Exclusive shipments to Fillandril’s ships,” Thomas added, as though that were a trivial condition.

“You’re willing to undercut the A.U.N.T. for this?” I replied, my voice seething.

Thomas remained unfazed. “We want to win the war, and success requires strategy. We need strong nations to defend against the Overseer’s incoming attack.”

"A moment," I cut in, my voice dropping to a dangerous quiet. "Did you say 'nations'?" I stepped closer, watching Thomas's polished facade crack slightly. "How many others are receiving this deal? Is that why our shipment is halved?"

Tyco dropped his head, visibly frustrated with his superior’s loose tongue. Thomas shifted uncomfortably, giving away just enough. “We can't put all our chips on a single horse.”

I’d heard enough. “Then I suggest you find a way to load up those supplies. Every single tiny bit of it. Or else, the only ‘case’ you will manage for me to present to the Admiralty is how we are gonna nuke your damn fucking headquarters.”

Thomas’s mouth twitched, but he nodded. “Very well, Commander. But do pass along our… ideas to Admiral Baraka. I’m sure he will see reason behind our actions.”

I turned, letting the tension hang in the air. “I’ll inform him of everything. And I strongly recommend transparency—unless you want the Alliance’s full scrutiny on every operation you run here.”