The dust has settled in New London, and for the survivors, the next challenge lays ahead. John, freshly promoted, made his way through the ruined streets leading up to the admiralty building, while not directly hit, the area around the central command building had been hit with shock waves from a nearby bombardment, lifting the very pavement up from the ground. The admiralty building, partially shielded, had its highest tower hit by a falling Gallic fighter, but otherwise the structure suffered mostly superficial damage.
John made his way to the boardroom, everything was operational, but the room looked as if a drunken fight had broken out between a dozen Corsairs and Mollys, with the furniture all strewn about the room. John made his way to one of the seats, and picked it up, patted the cushion down for dust accumulated, and took his seat, activating the console.
AI, call the board to gather, this could well be our last opportunity to meet, to talk. And with that, the AI engaged in the usual communications, making all board members aware they were required.
"Admiral Kaze Reidman Dagon, location: UNKNOWN. STATUS: DECEASED" No call made. "Admiral Michelle O'Brien, location: Battlegroup Harlow, Cortez, en-route to Manchester" Call made, voice based. "Commodore Gray Williamson Miller, location: Battlegroup McDuff, Omega-3, Under repair at Aland Shipyard" Call made, voice based. "Admiral Paul McKinley, location: Battlegroup Ark Royal, Newcastle, situation unknown" Call made, voice and text both used. "Admiral J. McIntire, location: New London Surface, admiralty building, situation unknown" staff directed to request presence in person. "Fleet Admiral Edmund Steiner, location: Battlegroup Norfolk, Southampton Shipyard Wreck" call made, textual."
The way the AI nonchalantly mentioned that Admiral Kaze was dead reminded john that no matter how good we get at making machines, there is always something lacking in their intelligence that prevents them from being empathetic to the situation, being able to read the room is not there strong point.
As with the last meeting, John wondered, who would make it to the meeting first.
Gray Williamson Miller appeared in the holo-vid of the deceased Admiral seat. He was rugged, dressed in combat attires, with a hard lock stare that only someone that had spent years down in Leeds could deliver. With a crisp salute, he looked at the view-screen that gave him an overview of the room. For a single moment, John could almost swear he saw Miller sneer.
"Miller here." His dry remark was heard. "What's this about, Admiral?"
Millers face was unfamilar to John, the newly promoted Captain had an air about him, no mistake, but no solid impression was made with John just yet. John knew he had spent recent months on Leeds, and that gave Miller some credit with the Admiral, anyone who has sweat and bled on that planet is not to be disregarded.
"Commodore Miller, I do not think I had the chance to congratulate you on your promotion, the timing is an auspicious one, but we are happy to have you on the board." John congratulated the Commodore, in a round about way.
"I am calling our last meeting, before the final push. Anything left to be said must be said now. The Norfolk will spearhead the push using the tools we.. acquired. I will divert some mobile forces for the push, the Essex is en-route to Dublin, and I will fly ahead with the Venerable to provide support via the Dublin passage to Leeds. What plans have you made, Miller? Anything to report?" John, newly promoted, attempted to lift himself to the rank of Admiral in more than just name through his manner and speech.
"The assault on Leeds will happen very soon, and every minute counts. Refugees flow to New London - once we are ready, the flow will come to a halt, and after that, the end game is upon us."
John took a brief glance around the room, wondering if anyone else would bother to turn up.
The door opened once again, and in stepped Edmund. My apologies, gentlemen, I hope you haven't started without me. He sat at the table, somewhat unaccustomed to meetings in person. What's this all about Mister Redmond?