The Beginning of the End

[Wesker]

Meeting Room Zhukovsky Station, New Moscow (//Omega-52)
08/12/825 AS, 12:00

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The newly found Major and secretary of the Generalmajor would certainly have some explaining to do following her failure to coordinate the retreat from Omicron Theta. Halldóra Liefsdóttir - A very young and ambitious pilot, had been looking to attain the level of skill and proficiency as a combatant and the level of discipline as a controlling figure. Naturally, having a decent record in the field -though nothing as deadly as Heinrich's- she was taken up based on what promise she showed, but it was quite obvious now it was less than what Heinrich anticipated. Halldóra certainly lacked the imposing figure that Anna was as well, standing only 5' 9" she didn't carry the will and intimidation, but at least she made up for that in determination.

Escorted by two guards, the young major prepared to enter the meeting room alongside Brigadegeneral Markward, and Major Meng, the newly assigned diplomat on behalf of the Army too the People's Republic. Markward's reputation was high, and as such mixing it with several other ranking Hessian officers must've already highlighted the importance of the situation to everyone else in the room. Everyone had a part to play, all the way from the Bundschuh down to the Coalition themselves. The plan being set in motion would certainly make history, no feat of this kind had ever been seen in Sirius before.

*Swoosh* The door opened, followed by the entry of the major next to Markward and Meng in large room setting. Along the edges of the rooms were separate "booths" where each party involved was seated - obviously leaving the S.C.R.A's spot above everyone else. Within the center of the room was a small projector illuminating a hologram of the Dresden system and links to it's surrounding systems. The camera angle controls were seated at each booth in respect to any statements or notes made by each party.

Small bit's of chatter could be heard among everyone else until Halldóra walked up to the edge of the booth, announcing some much needed information for the rest of the audience to hear.

The Generalmajor is pre-occupied and will arrive late, I trust we can begin and carry on.



The room broke in silence for a moment, Halldóra kept her eyes fixed on the Preimer, Markward didn't seem to take in the announcement as much of a surprise. Looking in the same direction along with Leng, it was an indication that they needed the Selim's approval to begin.

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[Querious]

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Zhukovsky Station, New Moscow.

Albert Weis sat in his chair, patiently waiting for the Generalmajor to arrive. While he did have personal encounters with her, he never really saw her in areas other than open space. Pondering on this, he quickly decided that making a good impression would benefit his revolutionary organization the most in the opening parts of this secret meeting. In the meantime, he took a good look at the hologram presented of Dresden, for this was the system that was going to be brought up the most in the conference.

49 years of age, and yet Weis had only ever been in Dresden in the past 2 years. That was about to change, of course, for he would be spending a lot of time here protecting the Bundschuh's interests in the system, and helping these more socialist groups drive out their enemies. He took particular interest in Bautzen Station and the surrounding Lavafeld, for they were undoubtedly controlled by the Bundschuh. Weis made mental notes on each of the strategies the Rheinwehr have used when trying to attack this part of Dresden, and how he and his forces repelled each maneuver.

Whispers and small talk could be heard around the room, but Weis had yet to be singled out to join in the socialization, so he continued to study the hologram from his seat. He would have to wait, like everyone else. Perhaps this was for the best.

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FÜR RHEINLAND!

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BIG PLANS

[Gagadug.]

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Markward glanced at his watch, impatient by nature he would have prefered they waited outside until the Generalmajor arrived to not waste time with pointless smalltalk but politeness demanded their appearance with everyone else. Political relations usually were not one of his favourite fields but gladly no one expected him to make a move in this regard anyways. He had Major Meng with him for that exact reason so all he had to do until the discussion about military actions began was to lean back and watch. And that was precisely what he did.

[conmann35]

Zhukovsky Station, in orbit of Jiangxi.

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The Premier was naturally the first to arrive to Zhukovsky for the meeting. It was, after all, a Coalition installation in the beating heart of the People's Republic. The preparations and trivialities that preceded the meeting had taken quite some time and were a taxing exercise even before the intrigue had begun. The intense pressure and expectation of a properly organized environment, given the number of eventual arrivals, was certainly there.

The Premier's entourage consisted of himself, his aide, and a number of security personnel, relatively lightly armored compared to, say, a marine boarding detachment, but no less well armed -- Volgograd Industrial's rifles were characteristically bulky and imposing as they were strong.

The backdrop where the Coalition's seats in the imminent debate lied were awash with the necessary glamour. The coat of arms of the Republic in center, a banner on each side and The Premier's face, although a bit artistically deviated was prominent in the propaganda posters in and around the meeting room, and Zhukovsky as a whole.

All the different factions seemed to be making small talk with one another in the prelude to the meeting proper. The Coalition's officials were no different, discussing minor points of affairs with themselves, and with the Premier. This trend continued until the Hessians made their announcement regarding a certain Generalmajor. After that point the Hessians seemed to be intently staring his way. Everything had wound down as well. The time had come to more forward. Selim stood from his seat, and addressed the delegations.

"Right. We have a lot to cover, as I understand. This meeting is now in session, I hope you've all had a chance to relieve yourselves. Since this was your idea, Hessians, you will have the floor first."

With that, he sat back down, and had passed the ball back into the Hessians' court. It was time for them to elaborate on their plans for Dresden.

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Vagrant elder
Get assimilated today

[Gagadug.]

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Markward stood up from his seat, putting his hands on the edge of the table in front of him.

As the Generalmajor has not arrived yet I will give you a rough idea of what the reason for this meeting is.
The Armee is preparing for the final liberation of the Dresden system, a task too big to be carried by our organisation on its own, wich is why we're meeting here today.
The plans for the actual attack on the system will need to stand back for the first steps though. Specifically we need to cut one of the routes into the system off, namely the jumphole connection to New Bejing in Dresden. For this a joint taskforce should be deployed.
Upon building up the blocade we have to expect heavy resistance so only seasoned combattants should be sent for this operation. A fleet of the Armee retreating from Omicron Theta will act as diversion at the same time, hopefully reducing the pressure on the blocade force.


He sits down again, glancing around the table. He was curious as of what the other groups reacions would be like.

[Enkidu]

Zhukovsky Station, Jiangxi Lagrange Point One.

For not the first time in the last seventy two hours, Arbeitsdirektor Corin Frei, newly appointed arbeitsdirektor of the Syndicliga and effective head of the snake, whatever that meant in a society of supposedly avowed anarchists, wondered what he was doing here. The liga, young and unsure of itself, conceived under Solomon Weiss, hampered and bleeding from under the blows of Garen’s coquettish Triumvirs, his revenge beyond the grave, and now attacked in its hour of need, it’s…. Garen wracked his brains for historical allegory…. Dunkerque, and he, its loudest champion, was attending a tea party a hundred and eighty lightyears away with a roomful of men who would happily shoot his organs out if it advanced their agenda.

Clambering through the few remaining vacant chairs, he settled according to where he thought was politically representative – upstream from the Bundschuh and closer to the dehumidifier than the Coalition. They were all, he noted, clustered together. Corin gave an inconspicuous smile which he buried under his moustache.

He knew only a few faces in the room, and even then, by reputation alone. Heinrich’s absence was obvious, with the exception of the rather gaudy statuette of her upon the table of the Hessian delegation – although a little shorter than the Hessian news reels would have the populace believe. Her stature could be felt beyond her physical presence, even here, in the halls of the internationalists. To the right, was another Weiss, a gaunt, clean-shaven man, with professor emeritus spectacles perched on a hawk nose; certainly an impressive figure, although he bore no resemblance to the ex-architect of the modern LWB that had born the directorate through the development of its ties with the separatists – or did he? The Weiss were an expansive family, with client roots in every brand of dirt in the Rheinland underworld. Besides, the war had ended – nowadays, anything was possible. Frei sunk into the plush of the ample Coalition chair – so luxurious it was uncomfortable, he kept losing his arse in the covers - and rested his chin on his fist.

He realised then he was late, and had missed the opening remarks. The recording device in his cuff – a genius work of stealth technology, smuggled from some duplicitous Order alumni in the edge worlds for enough credits to bankroll a cruiser, would have armed itself by now, keeping track of the meeting for later breakdown by the Leipheim spooks. They would have much to keep track of; the Hessian delegation were already, in typical Hessian fashion, laying out warplans, mostly focused around the impetus to attack. They would monopolise the meeting, Corin contemplated, just as they monopolised everything else.

He wondered if it was a thought-crime to eye the Premier. Selim was a fascinating man – one of the many elements of the arab diaspora that rode to Sirius aboard the Hispania and the Bretonia, near a millenia ago now. He was a minority even amidst his own people, yet he stood in the uniform of the most powerful man in the Revolution of the southern alliance – of which all parties present were a member, save that of Corin himself. Frei carried a razor of a suspicion that the Premier had reached his desk via his own merits, rather than assassinating his way to the top. Or perhaps his bag-men were simply subtler than he gave them credit for.

He noticed that the Coalition hadn’t inscribed the Syndicliga arms on the desk ahead of him – a casual notion of subservience that he had came prepared for. Casually, Corin placed a pocket-sized holoprojector on the table ahead of him, and fiddled with the knobs. A reasonably opaque representation of the Syndicliga Cog and Arrow winked out on the table ahead of him, , along with the old eagle of the Garenists, just for purity’s sake.


“Comfy room.” Corin grinned, taking the dangerous leap off the cliff of infusing levity into the war room. “A little ostentatious for a Unioner, Premier. But I will never turn down courtesy. It’s refreshing to remind my ass how the Planetaries live once in a while, no?”

He watched the General – Markwad emblazoned on his uniform, and eyed him down. “A blockade is going to take supplies, moreso than troops. You can have a billion men, but if you cannot supply them, they will break to a thousand. This may seem obvious, but it is much overlooked. General, the Union may be a sideshow in this glorious statement of revolutionary achievement, but we pride ourselves on being an expert on blockades. We, after all, are currently being blockaded. You commit the full swing of Bundschuh, Coalition, and Hessian forces throughout the system, and you will over-extend your supplies.”

Frei’s speech has elevated him out of his chair. He realises he needs to close the statement, that he cannot let the bullet holes sit unfilled. He’s already the shortest straw here. “The Liga…” He continues, sucking emphasis. “…Has unparalleled logistical resources. If you do not mind where your munitions, food, bandages, are coming from. We can supply your forces, with the commitment of our trade fleet, with medical supplies from Liberty and foodstuffs from Stuttgart and Kusari, thanks to our Landwirtrechtbewegung comrades. They will not run dry, if, we are able to secure our supplies. There is a certain advantage to us not being involved in the thrust; our transports will not be intercepted by the Corsairs. You wish for the element of surprise? You will not get it using Hessian, Bundschuh, or Coalition transports to provision your troops, even if each and every one was fitted with a cloaking device.”


He rhetorical paused, waiting for the psychological groans to reverb around the room. They would think him transactional, as if the Liga wanted nothing but profit in return. It was time to subvert expectations.

“We offer this assistance to you, unconditionally.”

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THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)

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