History is the judge and the verdict is in.
USS Excalibur CVX-11 - High Earth Orbit
"...and then he jumped the ship," Derek said leaning on a collection of metal ducting that shrouded power cables and communication wires deep in the engineering section of the ship.
Diaz poked her head around the sub-station she was working on that directed power from the Excalibur's Zero-Point reactor to the shield system. "Yeah? Did ol'Grippy think about the mess he was making down here with his stunt?" She stuck a screwdriver between her teeth as she pulled the panel off and looked at the mess of overloaded capacitors and melted wires.
"Come on," Derek said shaking his head, "it was brilliant, he dove the ship and scooped the sub right out of the water..."
"Yeah?" Diaz said removing her screwdriver and looking towards her friend, "you know that sub was American right? That he sentenced an entire crew of American sailors to death..."
Derek's face faltered, "I..."
"Didn't think about that," Diaz replied, "yeah. I may have been screwed over because I'm Cuban, still doesn't mean I like seeing kids killed. I think Maguire was right, Nemo up on the bridge is... well, lines blur when you're in a war, even if it's not your war."
"What do you mean?" Derek tilted back his ball cap, shifting uncomfortably.
"This isn't his fight, and while the Geldan crew don't question the word of the almighty Admiral, they are still wondering why they're here. I mean he has this ship, and the capacity to take them all home. Why is he here, fighting a war that isn't his to fight?"
Derek shook his head, "I should go, Tal is working on some code, I should get up to computer control before he gets bored and starts playing solitaire on a quantum computer..."
"You're buying into this," Diaz rested her arms on the top of the sub-station, giving him a concerned look, "you're becoming one of them," she jerked her head to crewmembers on different levels of the maze of pipes and machinery, "just another VG."
Derek looked at her, and glanced around him, at the crewmembers in their blue shirts, proud Striking Falcon patches and red ball caps. All members of House VonGrippen, all toiling for a cause and for a man they called their leader. Trusting that he was doing the right thing.
"Yeah," he said after a moment, looking back at her, "yeah I think I am." He smiled confidently, "I've never had much of a family before, but take a look around you. There is love here. This ship, these people. We've all been stuck together for what, two years or something? And look at us now; we're shaping the world. We're making a real difference in things..."
Diaz shook her head, ducking back down. "Go watch your puppy," She said, giving up.
* * *
VonGrippen was back in sickbay having the stitches in his knee sewn shut again. A very annoyed Doctor Sevano tsking at him as she worked. Knowing full well that anything she told him would be promptly ignored while he went on doing his own thing.
Ben was standing off to the right, his eyes dark as his skin was pale. A sheen of sweat standing out over his face. But despite it, he continued to keep his hands drawn in close about his body to ward out a chill. He was getting sicker, the autoimmune disorder continuing to wreak havoc on his system. And VonGrippen caught the occasional worried glances that Sevano gave in Ben's direction.
"T-there are reports," Ben said, labouring through his report, "that Queen Beatrice has seized control of the European Parliament. There's some initial resistance, but she's playing it smart, appealing directly to the people and only using force where she has to." He rubbed his eyes, "much of Europe is sick of the war, and since she has the support of General Merkht... Sarah... she..." Ben looked confused for a moment as he trailed off.
VonGrippen looked at his friend a long moment, feeling a sudden sense of loss deep within him. An alien emotion, but one that he was beginning to understand. He needed to get Ben home, and quickly.
"You were saying that Queen Beatrice seems to have things under control in Europe?" He pressed.
Ben nodded, "Y-yes, she's going to have problems from the French, but since all the armed forces now answer to her and not to the French... She can keep the national armies away from home long enough for her to secure her position and remove the relevant national governments in favour of a single government."
"And Octavius?" VonGrippen asked, gritting his teeth as Sevano squeezed his knee awkwardly, looking down at the ruin. It would require surgery. Right now it was all Sevano could do to ensure he didn't loose it. Dressing the wound, feeding him drugs to fight off infection. The prognosis wasn't good; he was fast passing the time that reconstructive surgery would be effective.
"The Kaynin seem to respond well to his leadership. Even those who have been in the European Armies for close to seven years, they are quite intelligent as you know. They have been working close with the French on the lines, many of them have learned ideas of fraternity... liberty..."
"And when those ideas are loose," VonGrippen nodded, "funny how a simple idea like freedom can spread and grow. The Kaynin will do well when they decide to settle, they are still discovering their own racial identity..."
"Well cricket is fast becoming the national past time," Ben smiled, "by the way the ship board game is due in a few hours."
VonGrippen tapped his nose, "keep me appraised of the score. Funny how a simple game can come to mean so much on board."
Ben nodded, "you take what you can get." He shrugged swaying again, "I'm writing another letter to home, would you like me to enclose anything?"
VonGrippen shook his head, "what would I say that hasn't already been said?"
"You could write to Jason," Ben suggested.
Sevano looked up at both men, keeping quiet as she began to re-wrap the leg.
VonGrippen chewed on the thought, Jason was too young to read he letters himself, but it would give him some kind of connection. Even a remote one to the family he had left behind.
"I write to Vickie," Ben said, "I also enclose a video message once a week, just so that she... remembers what I look like. Though," and he coughed a small smile, "I don't know how much longer I can keep that up."
VonGrippen's eyes snapped up, reading the thinly veiled message that Ben was trying to convey to him. There were doors that would close at some point, but he needed to act before they did.
He looked down at his knee.
"Is there anything we can do to stop the bleeding?" He asked pointedly.
"You could actually listen to my advice for a change," Sevano said standing up.
VonGrippen arched an eyebrow, "doctor." He placed an edge of warning in his voice strategically.
She set her hands on her hips, "you know full well you can't bully me, Admiral."
"I made a simple request," VonGrippen adopted a lecturing tone as he stood up, feeling the wave of pain as he grabbed for the edge of the bed to support him, "I'd rather you spare me the lecture that goes along with your medical advice."
Sevano tilted her head and lifted her foot to nudge the edge of the bed, pushing it out of VonGrippen's reach. Watching his eyes widen in pain as his weight again fell upon his leg.
"Excuse this little test," Sevano commented standing back and folding her arms, "you make it to the doors," she looked across the fifteen feet that separated VonGrippen from the glass doors of Sickbay, "and I promise no more lectures," She smiled wickedly, "but if you can't..."
"You are a cold, cold..." VonGrippen muttered through the pain, as Ben stepped in to help him.
"Take another step Commander," Sevano warned, "and you'll get one too!"
VonGrippen gritted his teeth as he tried to take one step, the pain arced through him as he collapsed, crashing to the deck.
Sevano nodded, "and that, gentlemen, is why I am your doctor." She put out her hand and helped VonGrippen back to his feet, setting him back on the edge of the bed.
"Run Ben," VonGrippen urged, his eyes bright despite the pain, "every man for himself. That's an order."
Ben nodded, "aye, aye sir."
* * *
General Chow's motorcade, escorted by armoured cars and a mobile anti-aircraft battery, roared through the streets towards the Forbidden City. Chow sitting inside the armoured car, his arms crossed as he watched his city slip past him.
They were his people, he had built a mighty empire for them, proud of his accomplishments he twisted a finger through one of the long moustaches. There was change in the air, he could smell it. Things were not as they were before Sedlec. VonGrippen had saved his men, and delivered a sound thrashing to the United States seeking to breach the nuclear treaty. And leaving the road open for the invasion of Japan.
The fighting was fierce, and in a few days the city of Sapporo was expected to fall into Chinese hands. Everything was progressing according to his plans. And the news was favourable for an invasion of Europe, the Balkan states having allied themselves to him should he choose to accept it.
Of course that meant he would have to accept the help of Madame VonGrippen, the imperious woman that had the gall to make demands of his ambassadors. Her grip on the Eastern Bloc was tenuous at best, and he was already positioning potential replacements that would step in once her political alliance crumbled leaving her on the receiving end of a firing squad. Yugoslavia had a history of dealing with dictators...
Yet he was unsatisfied. He was an old man building something better, something far greater than just himself, and yet it would crumble upon his death. He was the reason the alliance held, he was the reason the people supported the party unconditionally. And he was left with the bitter knowledge that those who came after him would squander what he had built.
Like Julius Caeser, he was bereft of an heir. His generals and regional governors would squabble, trying to carve out little empires for themselves seeking personal power over what was best for their people. At one time the Kahns had ruled most of the world. It had been an empire that, at its height, had been the single largest empire known to mankind. Yet it too had fallen with the death of great men.
China wouldn't survive a return to the party, Communism was dead, it had died long before he had risen to power. Disillusioned people watching the rise of poverty and the widening divide between the rich, and the poor they had turned to him. They expected him to protect them, to give them a future. His dynasty and his legacy had to be to them, and not the weight of his sword.
He settled into his yellow trimmed greatcoat, staring thoughtfully out of the window. As the cars swung through the gates, and drew up before the rows of tanks.
General Chow, stepped down from the armoured car he had been riding in and stared along the long line of ashen faced troops, a number of them looking apologetically at their general as beyond them a collection of three men stood watching.
The die hard Maoists, the Vice-Chairman and his two lackeys, perpetrators of a coup d'état. They reeked of betrayal, smug faces looking down at him, following the fine example shown to them across the world, trying to seize power for themselves, a tenuous power that they would never be able to hold.
General Chow shook his head, "my people will not stand for this," he looked at the rows of troops, and back at the three traitors, "mark it well, this day. For it shall be your last..."
Vice Chairman Zheng shook his head at the would be Emperor of China, "your ignorance is only surpassed by your ego Chow, the Party is the people. And the party has rendered this judgement upon you." He gestured to his troops, "take him!"
The guards looked fearful as they edged closer to their former leader, Chow surveying them regally, his hands slipping into the opposite sleeves of his greatcoat, allowing it to fall about him like a robe.
He gave the appearance of nobility, "do not worry," he reassured them, "I will come quietly with you. There will be no retaliation for any here this day, any who follow their orders loyally. I commend you for it. Though, those who give the orders," his voice hardened, "there is nothing but contempt in my heart for you."
* * *
President Markus Aquinas, the words flowed across the bottom of the executive order as he held it up to the Secretary of Commerce.
The small man, resembling a cloistered accountant, gaped at the paper, still not quite believing what he had been handed, "sir, this..."
"Is a directive nationalizing all foreign assets," Markus replied returning to his work, "I don't see a point in permitting major foreign interests getting wealthy through war. Especially not the ones who pay taxes to our nation's enemies."
"Yes," the man agreed uncertainly, "but..."
"There is no buts," Markus responded, "I know that many of the corporations sink large amounts of money into the lobbies, and I want to ensure that our nation is ruled by American interests, those of our people and not those of corporations who are out for the bottom line." Markus drew out a dollar bill and tossed it on the desk.
The Secretary looked at the others in the Oval Office, startled at the direct and abrupt way that Markus had approached the matter. There were procedures, Congress had to approve such a measure surly? It was a broader matter, especially when so many corporations manufactured on American soil yet were headquartered abroad. Markus was talking about nationalizing nearly sixty percent of the American economy.
"The logistics behind this are..." The Secretary said, coughing nervously.
"Can you do this or not?" Markus demanded glaring up at the small man, "because I have already threatened to fire one member of the Cabinet if he lets me down. I am not above terminating your appointment for failing this administration in a time of crisis."
"I-I'll do it, sir," the Secretary agreed uneasily, "but Congress will..."
"Congress is no longer a factor in the decision making of this nation," Markus stated evenly, "at least not when it comes to a matter of the lobbies. I am doing this for the benefit of this country, and for their good as well. The best medicine is, at times, the hardest to swallow. But I don't have an election campaign to win. I intend to do what must be done."
"Yes Mister President," the Secretary agreed, excusing himself and bolting from the office, knowing that a storm was gathering, one that would see Markus clashing directly with Congress. And with the twenty-one day deadline looming, it was a dangerous game indeed.
Markus shrugged on his coat and wrapped a scarf around his throat as the American made X-900 dropship, designated Marine-One swept in for a landing on the White House lawn.
* * *
"He's legislating," one of the former Presidential Aides commented to President Macdonald.
Macdonald sat in the residence, his arms crossed, while his wife rubbed his shoulders. A deepening scowl stretching on his face, "he can't."
"He is," the aide said uncomfortably, "he signed an executive order this morning nationalizing all foreign assets on American soil."
"He what?" Macdonald gasped, "he's going to have a riot in Congress..."
"Yes but this move brings a small fortune into the American economy, and it appeals to the current nationalistic movement..."
"Popularity with the people won't save him," Macdonald said confidently as he stood up watching Marine-One lifting off from the lawn and rocketing skywards, "Congress won't forgive him stripping power from the lobbies, not when they fund election campaigns. When the appeal vote is drawn President Aquinas will find himself swiftly unemployed."
* * *
"Have you ever felt as though you had to be in too many places all at once?" Queen Beatrice asked sitting in the STOAT that was rattling its way up through the atmosphere winging towards the Excalibur.
Octavius had found himself a small folding chair and nodded, "all the time, your Highness."
The Excalibur had been deemed the neutral site for the discussion of terms between the Americans and the House of Windsor. A summit hastily thrown together in the wake of the European revolution to discuss the remote possibility of peace.
The STOAT repositioned itself for a landing upon the rear flight deck of the Excalibur, its wings folding upwards as it touched down on the pad. Behind it, slipping under the fantail of the great warship, Marine-One landed upon the main flight deck of the Cruiser.
There were full honours as the Queen was piped aboard, Captain VonGrippen standing at the foot of the ladder out of uniform, in just a simple white shirt and a black waistcoat that matched his dark trousers. A silver watch chain in the pocket of the waistcoat, causing the Queen to offer a surprised smile. There was normally a formality to such state visits, however she was still in her DPM uniform, so the oversight could be forgiven.
"Welcome aboard the HMS Excalibur, your majesty," VonGrippen greeted formally, resting upon a metal collapsible cane from the ships stores.
Beatrice nodded her head, "thank you Highlord. It is a pleasure to finally see this ship, it is like being aboard a phantom of the past."
VonGrippen nodded, "may I present Lieutenant-Commander Kit Durnham," he motioned to the hologram standing off to one side, nervously polishing his glasses with the edge of his tie. Derek had been thorough in programming VonGrippen uniforms into Kit's database, allowing him the opportunity to be appropriately attired.
Beatrice moved to shake his hand, but the Commander looked apologetic, "I am a projection, your Highness," he explained as her hand passed through his.
"You mean...?" Beatrice looked surprised.
"He is a recreation projected by the ship's A.I. system as a liaison for the ship's systems to interact with her human crew members." VonGrippen explained, "a very through and effective officer I might add." He motioned into the ship, "if you would come with me, I can take you to conference-one where the summit will take place."
They walked together, as VonGrippen limped heavily upon the cane, motioning to various ships systems and explaining their function. The elevator trip passed in relative silence while Beatrice prepared herself for meeting with the new President of the United States. He was already in the room when she arrived, with Commander Maguire that she recognized from the dropship that had evacuated them from Sedlec.
The Commander was in his full dress uniform, his peaked cap tucked under his arm as he stepped back. He exchanged a tight look with VonGrippen as Markus stepped forward.
"Your Highness," he greeted.
"Mister President," she returned, "it seems our positions have changed significantly from when last we spoke."
"Indeed," Markus nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat at one of the tables, he sat across from her, while VonGrippen took a seat at the head of the table.
"Where do we begin?" Beatrice asked.
"At the point when war ends," Markus replied, turning his head from her to VonGrippen and back again, "at a point where a new alliance is forged, one that will change things forever."
"You are very ambitious Mister President," Beatrice remarked, accepting a cup of tea that a steward presented her with, "hadn't we better discuss peace before we talk about an alliance?"
"They are one in the same," Markus said. "An Alliance guarantees our continued survival. And puts us in a stronger negotiating position with General Chow."
"I am still establishing my rule," Beatrice replied shaking her head, "any move now to ally myself with the United States could be portrayed by my opposition as capitulation in the war."
"Then win the war," Markus said simply, "I will concede to you all the American territories and I will sign a formal surrender to the House of Windsor."
"It is not as simple as just that," Beatrice replied.
"It can be," Markus insisted.
"We have to discuss reparations..." Beatrice responded.
"Done," Markus agreed.
"But..." Beatrice shook her head looking across at VonGrippen, "I don't understand."
"In one day, America will be in a position to surrender to the Alliance of Houses. Both VonGrippen and Windsor," Markus leaned upon the table, "I am here to discuss the terms of the American surrender."
Beatrice set her cup down in shock, "and what do you expect in return for this gift?"
"Marriage," Markus said evenly, "and the autonomous rule of the entire Americas under one House."
"Yours I suppose," Beatrice said.
"No," Markus replied, "under Doctor Morvanor, the House of Morvanor will encompass both North and South America, I will resign the Presidency and Congress will be removed from power. If you make it clear that America will be allowed its freedom to form its own House then I am confident that the war will end peacefully."
"You will be a sacrificial lamb?" VonGrippen murmured.
"And if done correctly, Morvanor will appear as a true hero to the American people." Markus agreed, "while my own position will be guaranteed through a political marriage."
"You will be seen as a Benedict Arnold to your own people," Beatrice warned, "America is notorious for its passionate dislike of turn coats."
"Perhaps, but time heals all wounds," he smiled, "are my terms acceptable?"
Beatrice looked thoughtful, "there is a caveat I wish to add to the House Morvanor." She smiled coldly, "that the power base, in five or ten years, be moved to Ottawa in Canada. After all, its loyalty is well remembered. And the winters there will serve as a reminder to the future Highlord Morvanor that responsible government was born there."
"Agreed," Markus replied, "and...?"
"You expect me to make you King of England?" she asked in amusement.
"No," Markus responded, "I expect to be named Emperor of the new order. And I want you to be my Queen."
Beatrice laughed shaking her head, "you have to be insane."
VonGrippen cleared his throat, "I think you will find that he is quite serious." He sat watching Commander Maguire who was staring at his President in abject shock, refusing to believe what he was hearing.
Markus kept his eyes locked upon her, "one united front. One rule, together."
"You are forgetting that all of this falls apart without VonGrippen," Beatrice replied turning her head.
"His seat on the Highlord Council will be assured, an equal voice to that of each of the others," Markus gestured, "the Houses of Windsor, VonGrippen and Morvanor the foundation for a new order."
"We haven't discussed my terms yet," VonGrippen stated folding his arms, "I want it clear that the men and women of the armed forces are afforded their appropriate status in this new order. That the militaries be integrated and ready to deal with the Sino-Russian Alliance. And that I possess all nuclear launch codes."
Beatrice and Markus stared at VonGrippen a long time, before both gave their assent, Markus already drawing out his arming card and handing it across to VonGrippen. "Agreed, I will place the defence of my nation in your hands."
Beatrice stood, "under the circumstances, I never thought I would be condoning the creation of such an order... or the appointment of a Warlord."
"Agreed," Markus got to his feet and inclined his head to VonGrippen, "Warlord VonGrippen, America will be delivered to you and the Highlady Windsor in two days." He glanced at Maguire, "if the Commander would escort me back to Marine- One, I have preparations to make."
As he left, Beatrice turned to VonGrippen, "I don't know why I trust him..."
"Because he is manipulating you to," VonGrippen responded, "he's manipulating all of us, and we're letting him."
"And what will we do about it Admiral?" Beatrice asked.
"Nothing," VonGrippen replied, "because he is our best hope for peace. He has a plan for it, one that will see him become the most powerful man in the world, and we are going to help him get there, because without him, this war will go on and on. And we will all lose." He slipped the nuclear arming card into the pocket of his waistcoat, "I can show you back to your ship, your highness..."
"Thank you Admiral," she murmured staring after Markus her future husband.
* * *
Markus motioned with his hand and tossed Maguire against the wall of the elevator, "that was foolish." He said calmly examining the pistol he had torn from Maguire's hands when the man had attempted to shoot him the second the elevator doors had closed.
"You're betraying our country for..." Maguire started.
"For my own aims," Markus responded, "I am not hiding that fact. But you will come to learn, before the end of this elevator ride, that I can be remarkably persuasive when I need a person to see my point of view."
He lowered Maguire and drew him through the air towards him, "I am the next stage in human evolution, I was created to rule, and I will rule." His eyes flashed dangerously. "Already, when I say that, you are beginning to open up to the idea." He concentrated harder, "you can feel that I am the best choice for the position. That I, and only I can stand upon the throne and direct the world. To shape it for the future."
Maguire was sweating, his eyes desperately trying to avert from Markus's. But he could feel the pull, that well of charisma that threatened to drown him. Everything Markus said sounded right to him, and he could concede that maybe he was right, that the age of the nation state was at an end. And a new dawn was beginning, the Imperial Age.
"Where VonGrippen leads, you will follow." Markus's voice sounded distant, musical, seductive, "you will guide him, work with him. Obey him as you would any Admiral over you. And you will be rewarded once the time is right."
He set the Commander down on the floor of the elevator, allowing a wave of ecstasy to sweep through the man, crumpling him to the floor as the elevator doors slid open and Markus walked away. Returning down through the main bay and out into the hangar deck where his dropship stood waiting for him.
He tossed the Commander's pistol over to a deck chief, who caught it in confusion as Markus boarded his craft and settled in for the return journey.
* * *
General Merkht walked briskly through the corridors of European High Command, making for the communications bunker, the recall authentication codes in her pocket. The one that would crush the British revolution and recall the European troops home to defend their governments.
She rounded the corner and stopped, agape at the woman blocking the doors ahead of her. Dressed in white she had no place in the military building, and yet the large hole torn through the reinforced bunker roof showed how she had entered.
There had been no alarms, there was no one left alive in the bunker to raise the alarm, it was just Sarah and Sephradon. Memories of their childhood together, of Sephradon's withdrawal after her selection by General Michaud, and then their last few moments together aboard the Aconit after VonGrippen had rescued them.
"Words don't do justice to this reunion," Sephradon said, her voice a mere whisper, but with the absence of any other sound, they resonated.
Sarah shook her head, "save them, I always preferred actions... they speak louder."
* * *
Rikard walked through the White House, intercepting the Acting-President as he came in from the gardens. His visitor pass said that he was a special Presidential Advisor with full access, and despite Secret Service protests, he had received it.
Together, in silence they entered the Oval Office, Markus removing his coat and handing it off to his secretary as he looked over at Rikard, "it's done. Are the preparations ready?"
"The pieces are in place for the end game," Rikard produced the black crystal, "are you ready for the next step?"
"I was born ready," Markus said, sitting behind the desk, "when this is over, you will take your place on the council as my Chancellor."
"Chancellor always had the right resonance," Rikard smiled adjusting the crystal, applying the next dose that pushed the very edge of what the GN-2 body could sustain. "You are ready my friend..."
Markus extended his hand and examined it, looking about him and up into Rikard's eyes, "then it is time to clear a path for the new."