OCV Fedayeen - 25/10/825
Oasis. It would have been a fitting name for the moon slowly spinning on the other side of the thick glass of the observation deck. The lines of it's blue shores and the contrast of the lush, green plains playing with the light that filled observation room TA-23. For those that fought against the most grim of foes, it seemed almost fitting that their home had a sense of sanctuary about it.
Having turned the rooms lighting off, Commissar Pimakhova sat studying the scene in front of her. Her dark brown eyes glistened as they traced the mountain ranges. In her hands was a packet of Moscovian cigarettes with which she fiddled. The pristine plastic wrapping shimmered as it caught the light of Nebet.
Reminding herself of the Order's no-smoking policy, she let out a sigh as she pocketed the packet on the inside of her uniform. A pale grey military-esque long coat with a red gilding, straight-cut combat trousers tucked into deep brown boats. Plain. The only distinguishing feature was a hood lined with a redish-brown fur. A scar ran up from her left shoulder to the base of her ear, accentuated by her pitch-black hair tied back behind her head.
Hearing the metallic whine and swoosh of automated doors behind her, the Commissar stands up and turns to face whoever it was that was entering. "Aah... Grand Admiral. Thank you for indulging me." With red lips curved into a warm, genuinely grateful smile.
“Admiring the view of my home, are we?” Admiral stepped into the room, one of his bodyguards or at least the only one visible tactfully staying out and making sure they would not be disturbed. He wore uniform of the Overwatch, standard Order black with sand/golden decals in place of silver. Stepping next to her over an observation window with a view on the planetary system. “Second one, unfortunately. This time however we won't be letting our enemies come that close.” He stared down towards the mass of equal proportionate blue, white, green and rock gray. Somewhere to the south of massive mountain range were lights of main Order spaceports arranged in staggered line near the equator. “I am surprised you did not picked the surface. Life support systems of entire habitable moons are remarkably more powerful than that of a modern warship.” Referring to her obsessive smoking habit, at the same time offering her some form of synthetic cigar that would try to sate at least some of her cravings.
“How can I help you then?”
"I appreciate the offer, Michal, but if it is not the real thing I fear I would only be cheating myself. Besides, it is not a habit created by a need for the narcotics of it's leaf. Hopefully." The Commissar looks down at Akabat again, then smiles warmly."With some hard work and dedication, you and yours shall make this jewel of a planet a home once again... and by the patrols I witnessed coming here your intention to not loose another is abundantly clear. Related... but not the reason I am here."
Katya scratches along the line of her scar as she turned away and found herself her chair from earlier. Taking a seat, she gestured for Golanski to join her at the table. "I am looking to discuss renewing the cooperation between our organisations, Michal. That is the Order and C47. There was a time where we worked rather well, side by side. Unfortunately a great deal has occurred within C47 since we last saw each other that has... hmm... taken a severe blow to the resources at my disposal but, we are rebuilding."
Pimakhova's fingers fidget on the table, and after a moment she opens up her palm gesturing for the synthetic cigar. "I cannot recall.. did I disclose much on Commune 47 the last we met?"
He’d pass the cigar along. It was Cryer developed smoke-less device that did not released any chemicals into the warship’s life support system and passed it onto rest of the crew. Admiral himself did not smoke, neither back then nor now. His hands clasped together, fingers crossed.
“A group of Coalition Commissars, or maybe one Commissar - you, as you had conveniently never disclosed your numbers - with their personal entourage on their not officially sanctioned mission to learn about and counter the Nomads, easily considered the biggest threat to continuation of Coalition in the long term. I can furthermore tell a familiar grade of paranoia that sets you apart from most of the other S.C.R.A. divisions and cells which… let me guess, did not reflected well upon resources that were allocated to you by His Watchful Eye.”
He leaned forward a bit and after a pause, continued.
“The 47 had drawn the short straw and you are effectively stranded, deprived of assets. I am no doubt one of the highest among the list of influential people that had shown kindness and support towards your cause. Do tell me if my diagnosis is correct?”
Pimakhova quickly put the cigar to her lips and took a few drag of it's smokeless chemicals as she listened to Golanski talk. She frowned and took the cigar out of her mouth, her eyes looking at it in bemused disgust as he wrapped up his summary. "This device is truly awful... how do your personnel stand it?" With an emergent grin, she places it back on the as she leans forward herself to discuss in quiet tones.
"You remember much Michal; only a few details were awry. It is true that C47 was set up to combat the alien threat without the knowledge or permission of His Watchful Eye. As myself and a few comrades learnt of the alien and their tactics, we learnt of their infiltration into Alliance governments, authorities and security institutions. We began to wonder... what would happen if our ranks could be infiltrated as well. What damage could be done to the revolution if our own Commissars... His Watchful Eye's army... perhaps even the Watchful Eye himself, may he forgive me for saying it... were tainted with the will of the alien?" The Commissar wore a troubled expression as she leaned back in her chair. "The question was then asked. Had it already happened?"
Despite her earlier look of disgust, her fingers fidgeted around the smokeless cigar twirling it around. "... if it had already happened, we had few means to find out. We knew very little... so we established C47 in secret. Without His Watchful Eye's knowledge. Or the Revolutionary armies. Or his Commissariat. It was difficult but in time I built a network of agents within Alliance territory and within key buro's of the Coalition. I travelled to the frontier within the role of safeguarding the coalition's interests. We watched. We learnt."
"...ironically, the very thing we sought to protect our people against found us. After our last discussion, only about a month after, I discovered C47 had been infiltrated by the alien. A close friend within C47 attacked me. There was little choice but to take the cell underground and... purge it." Pimakhova's hands uncharacteristically shook for a brief moment on the table before she quickly brought them to her lap. "The following two years have been difficult, but I am now certain there is no alien taint within C47. The work must begin again."
"... in short, your diagnosis is correct Admiral. Though, whilst it is true I'm not hear to ask for your resources. I am hear to ask for your cooperation with C47. A form of... mutual recognition and knowledge sharing. We have already acted in sorties your capitals have flown against the alien. I see in the Order a kinship with the organisation - even if our political views in a world where the alien would not exist would differ... we both see that the alien is the most pressing issue of our time. Do you agree, Michal?"
“Well... it is simple, really. Most do not smoke, personally in my chase these chemicals are irritating to my airways and sense of smell. Those who do either settle on those neutered alternatives or apply for appropriate programs. We are no purists however and we chose for far more elegant solution of subsidizing our morale with rations of beverages. Alcohol is much easily removed from circulation, either on its own or via less pleasant emergency sobriety drugs.“
He listened to her story. The infestation was a real problem that has no definitive answer to by The Order R&D. He hated every occurence that crossed his desk or reached him by hearsay. He could not call ignorance as Admiral perfectly knew the process and doomed existence as alien parasite is assuming control over one’s body. Independent decision making ceases to have an effect, driving host perhaps insane well before even that is taken away from him. Finally the memories, though self-awareness in now foreign body is said to never fully fade. He needed to change course of the conversation even for just a moment to let him focus away from eldritch affairs that could freeze a mind of man even of his strength. First off, his personal views...
“You make a mistake - like many others - that I or my administration view communism or any other system of governance as an affront, only to be conveniently disregarded and brushed off under the table for political and diplomatic reasoning. I was raised on the outskirts of the Cretan Empire where concerns of the capital and pressure of its opponents both were not heeded to due to distances involved. You will find main body of The Order similarly neutral as our concerns focus primarily and only on powers that jeopardize humanity as a whole. We do support certain… parties and groups that are political at their heart. We build alliances that in bigger picture would result in Sirius as a whole safer place to live in even when we are actively and simultaneously supporting goals that may be as different as heaven and earth.”
“Empires and governments come and go… it’s all the same to me. My personal agenda goes along lines of future of human species future and supremacy. Along same rhetoric my pact with Coalition and the C-Forty-Seven is to be cultivated according to this manifesto alongside simple fact that it is also good practice to be a good neighbour. I am sorry for your loss but you had taken the right choice there. Your soldiers had befallen fate worse than death and you released them from thralldom to alien scourge.”