~March 26th, 140 AH~
~Sector Aquarius, Militarized Safe Zone~
The parley took place in the dead of night, under the fuzzy outline of a full moon that drifted in and out of the overcast sky.
Asena waited at the edge of the crater, feeling oddly exposed despite being inside the cockpit of her M-024. It was the same crater the Reiter Regiment used for training exercises and graduation rites. Tonight, however, it was to be the meeting place between delegates from Akropolis and the Apfel Alliance.
Three white dots appeared on the radar, indicating the approach of the Akropolitan delegate and his two bodyguards. The dots stopped at the crater’s outer rim, directly opposite to Asena’s position, then moved no further. An understandable precaution—and one Asena had anticipated.
“Perhaps you should take Feray and Graeme with you,” Akash Varana’s slightly hurried voice broke through the radio, “or let me join you. I won’t be much good in a real firefight, but the Joint Forces don’t know that yet.”
By force of habit, Asena pivoted in her metallic frame, turning to her co-conspirator’s worker Eidolon with a smile he couldn’t see. The weeks she’d spent acclimating to mechanized combat hadn’t completely rid her of her in-person mannerisms.
“I can’t agree to that,” she asserted. “We stick to the original plan. My going down there alone gives us the best chance of convincing the other side to follow suit. And besides”—she placed a demonstrative hand on the shaft of her currently powered-down [NAGINATA]—“I won’t be completely defenseless.”
The worker Eidolon too turned slightly inward, though with far less grace than its M-024 counterpart. After a beat, Akash said, “Very well. I trust your judgment on this. Good luck, Asena, but… don’t push your luck. Be ready to evacuate at the first sign of trouble.”
By way of answer, Asena engaged her thrusters and took off, making for the lowest and most central part of the crater.
Despite her assurances toward Akash, she couldn’t claim to be totally confident in her decision. It was one derived from self-Kuration and sifting through her memories of reading about Old Earth negotiation tactics. Volunteering herself to be vulnerable first was a concession made in good faith. She only hoped that her counterparts on the opposite end of the crater would return it in kind.
Her hopes rested on the other party’s inexperience. For at least 140 years, neither the word nor the very concept of ‘parley’ had ever entered Akropolitan consciousness. This was to be quite literally the first time in recorded history that two delegates from opposing sides of a conflict could communicate with each other in a common language. Assuming that the Akropolitan delegate would be just as untested as her, Asena could turn that into her advantage.
Take the initiative. Unbalance the opposition and force them to react. For several fraught moments after Asena landed, the three white dots on her radar remained clustered and motionless. She could almost hear the debate that must’ve buzzed between their cockpits, before one dot eventually broke off and flew itself into visible range.
Even in the partially obscured moonlight, the burgundy paintwork on the model ES-V was distinct and readily identifiable. General Ghata Vakta, callsign Tripod. His promotion to Colonel several months ago should’ve coincided with his retirement from pilotting duty, but he’d clearly decided that he could make an exception for a ‘face-to-face’ meeting with wanted fugitives.
As Tripod drew near, Asena caught a slight hitch in his flight. Working off rust? A moment of hesitation? Or was it fear? Whatever the case might have been, seeing this helped to somewhat settle Asena’s nerves. Across from her, Tripod landed, leaving just enough distance between them to be out of melee range.
Take the initiative. She gave herself one more second to confirm that Tripod had stopped moving completely, then spoke into a channel that had been reconfigured for this occasion.
“This is Kurator Asena Shiranui of the Apfel Alliance,” she announced, slipping back into her former professional persona, if only to calm her own nerves. “Who am I speaking to?”
A pause—in which Asena could almost see the look of bemused indignation on the Vakta heir’s face.
“This—you can hear this, can you? This is General Ghata Vakta… of the Joint Forces. Really, is any of this—”
“Thank you, Mr Vakta. Before we begin, I wanted to reiterate that the purpose of this meeting is purely for me, as the Apfel Alliance’s chosen representative, to outline our demands. And for you, presumably representing the interests of the people of Akropolis, to have an opportunity to respond to said demands. By no means do I nor my associates bear any intentions toward violence, and this meeting will not escalate to such, as long as you hold to the same standard of conduct.”
Another pause, somewhat more inscrutable than the last. It wasn’t until Ghata spoke again that Asena could picture the sneer on his face.
“Do these ‘non-violent’ associates of yours include the dinky little thing that’s directly behind you and—let’s see—at least five more that are hiding along the perimeter?”
“Yes,” Asena replied quickly and with nary a shift to her tone. “They’re just as non-violent, I’m sure, as the two Reiters that accompanied you here. And however many more you’re keeping on standby and out of radar range.”
Ghata audibly scoffed. “You think I need reinforcements to deal with the likes of you, Kurator Shiranui?”
“Do you want to find out?” Asena resisted the urge to reach for her [NAGINATA], lest she needlessly provoke her counterpart. “Just like Makiri did?”
Tripod’s burgundy frame shifted slightly, leaning to one side as though its pilot had nearly lost his balance.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“So you do have Spindrift! Where? Is he here with you? And what did you just—you expect me to believe that you defeated Spindrift in combat?”
Asena heard the agitation in Ghata’s voice, and allowed herself a private smile. It hadn’t taken much for the young general’s veneer of authority to fall away. His one month of on-the-job training evidently hadn’t been enough to paper over his obvious inadequacies as a leader of men. If Ghata Vakta was still the same spoiled Tetrarch brat that Asena knew—brash, womanizing, yet deceptively gutless—perhaps she could still hope to bully him into a corner.
“I did defeat my brother in single combat,” she explained calmly—then chose to leave the rest of Ghata’s questions unanswered. “Does that help you to calibrate your expectations for this meeting? Are you ready to hear our demands?”
Tripod’s Eidolon now leaned slightly in the other direction as its pilot processed the news. Ghata remained silent for long enough that Asena was compelled to glance at her radar again, only to see that the white dots on the perimeter still hadn’t moved. When the so-called general did speak again, he too had regained his earlier composure.
“Really, Asena, is there a need for this charade? Why can’t we just have a normal conversation, huh? You’re practically my baby sister, for god’s sake! And if a sister has made a mistake… if she’s lost her way a little bit, then naturally, it’s an older brother’s duty to nudge her back on course.”
Asena listened with mounting irritation. She knew that whatever Ghata might say next would be worthless, but she decided to let him finish, out of a perverse sense of self-righteousness. It was as though she wanted him to say something foolish, if only to justify her anger toward him and everything he stood for.
“Come home, Asena,” Ghata said, once again letting his sneer creep back into his voice. “This joke has gone on long enough, and you might’ve taken it too far, but it’s not too late to put things right. Give us Spindrift. Give us Kingfisher. Cooperate with us in apprehending the rest of your little gang of traitors… and there might yet be an avenue for you to come out of this relatively unscathed. Think of your parents. Think how much your actions have hurt them. How they must—”
“If you’re unwilling to hold a discussion in good faith,” Asena cut in, just barely keeping a lid on her emotions, “then this meeting is over. Will you hear our demands, or will you blather on with your false platitudes?”
More silence. More debates among headless chickens—albeit ones encased in giant instruments of death and destruction. By now, Asena was confident that Ghata would at the very least hear her out, given the tenuous yet substantial leverage she held in the form of Kingfisher and ‘Spindrift’.
As for whether a Tetrarch heir and the de facto dictator of Akropolis would acquiesce to those demands… that was another prospect entirely, and one that didn’t inspire much hope, if at all. But Asena had to at least try. For in the Akropolis she dreamed for herself and her people, truth and openness had to be the basis that informed all choices—whether those choices led to reconciliation or to more war.
“Very well,” Ghata finally said. “Get on with it, then. Give us your demands. What’s gotten a Kurator and a Gaertner so worked up that they decided to team up and play at war?”
“First and foremost,” Asena began, “we demand the dismantling of the military dictatorship that currently masquerades as Akropolis’s governing body. This includes but is not limited to the removal of all Tetrarch members from positions of leadership. A coalition of Sehermensch and Essential officials is to take their place, to be handpicked by the Alliance, free from Tetrarch interference and with the ultimate goal of transitioning into a permanent form of elected government in the near future.
“Second, the Joint Forces are to undergo a complete restructuring, both vertically and horizontally. All differentiations of Sehers are to be integrated into combat missions based on need and fit, which will also require the adoption and continued development of the ‘foreign’ technology that’s now under Alliance control. Concurrently, there is to be a thorough review of the military’s fundamental approach to the Syntropy War, reevaluating the systemic factors that led to humanity’s inability to gain any ground over 140 years of failure. Akropolis will make a final and urgent push against the Syntropy… and the current leadership group, ineffectual and detrimentally insular as they’ve been, shall play no part in the ongoing war.
“Third, the Joint Forces are to immediately relinquish their authority over the entire group of Spiegels that are currently confined against their will under abhorrent conditions. The Alliance will step in and do everything in our power to safely recover these individuals and reintegrate them into society. The Spiegel Program is to go the way of the Tetrarchy. Never again shall humanity stoop to such despicable lows in the name of false ideals. We survive and triumph together, or we’re doomed to repeat an endless cycle of hatred and suffering.
“Details we can hammer out in due course, but these are the necessary conditions under which the Apfel Alliance will agree to collaborate with the Joint Forces, and work together to ensure a sustainable future for all Akropolitans. You can have Zelen Athelstan. You can have Akash Varana. You can have all of us back and fighting for a common goal, so long as you and the rest of the Tetrarchy agree to step down and right your wrongs. So, Mr Vakta. What say you? Having heard our terms, do you—”
“Who the hell do you think you are, Corporal?”
There was no hesitation this time. No ‘silent’ conference with his cronies. As deliberately monotone as Asena had been throughout the proceedings, Ghata Vakta had run the gamut of moods and intonations, from insincere amicability to nervous stonewalling to now outright anger.
Asena covered her mic to let out a sigh, then said, “I’d appreciate if you could refrain from invoking an authority I no longer recognize. As for—”
“And I’d appreciate if you ceased this insolence at once and answered for your traitorous crimes! Did you really think that I would agree to this? That I would just stand by and let a group of deranged pretenders make a mockery of everything the Tetrarchy have built—everything our families fought to protect for 140 years?”
Asena could hear and see the spittle that flew from the General’s mouth. As much as she wanted to let herself go and match his unbridled rage, she kept her cool and said, “I expect you to follow your own conscience, as I do mine. But if you won’t step down, Mr Vakta, then your refusal would be just another in a long list of the Tetrarchy’s crimes against humanity.”
“Shut your whore mouth! I’ve heard enough of this. And your parents will rue the day they brought an ingrate and a traitor into this world. I can have them arrested, Asena! I can dig up the identities of every last one of your so-called Alliance, and do to their families what I’ve already done with Kingfisher’s father. What will you do then? Is that the kind of triumph you envisioned for your pathetic excuse for a rebellion?”
Asena squeezed her mic, lest her counterpart hear the rise and fall of her heaving chest. It took some doing this time, but she once again regained enough composure to declare in an even voice, “As much as it pains me to hear your vitriol, Mr Vakta, you describe exactly the kind of injustice I chose to rise up against. I’ve made my choice, and I no longer have the right nor the inclination to call myself a daughter of the Shiranui clan. Do what you must, but know that your refusal to cooperate leaves me and my allies with no recourse but to realize our goals by force. We will make this revolution—this new Akropolis—a reality, with or without the Tetrarchy.”
There came another pause before Ghata Vakta’s next reply, but one that was brief and in rhythm with his hardening resolve.
“Do your worst,” he said, remarkably calm and with a finality that brooked no further discussion. “If you stand against the Tetrarchy, then you become our enemy—no better than the Syntropy. And it’ll give us just cause to exterminate every last one of you, like the vermin you are.”