Birdwatching
6774
Copost with Mazekya
The Gimar soldiers moved quickly to attention, jogging up the length of the foyer with their hands at their belts, keeping their scabbards and holsters from rattling. Their boots flicked and tapped against the marbled floor, a cacophony of echoes erupting with their haste. They were dressed in the customary uniforms of the familys military: Black with silver accents, and slumped, kepi-style hats atop their heads. They wore tunics and flared-hip trousers tucked into their shiny black boots. Unlike many of the Azhani tasharen families, the Gimars were still steeped in some element of tradition; this was exuded by the soldiers, some of whom were adorned with monochrome face paint to display notions of rank and honor.
Coming into formation, the soldiers clicked their heels into lockstep and froze in place. Like statues they stood for a moment, with an appearance utterly devoid of life until the door at the far side of the foyer opened. Having formed a tunnel of personnel at both flanks, the two leading Gimar cadets drew their angled, hooked blades from their scabbards and raised them up.
Effortlessly, their mistress entered the main grounds of the estate. She paid them little attention, instead engrossed in a conversation with her assistants, the two nipping at her heels as they followed behind her.
There may be some criticism of this clan that we have not considered appropriately. One of them, Milaia, piped out, leaning to the side slightly to see part of the face of her mistress. She was dressed in a one-piece tunic and skirt combination, with sheer black tights filling the gap between her skirt and shoes. A small pilotka was nestled on her head, partially crooked.
She continued. The Ghost Hawks were in conflict with the Dae a century ago when they attacked the Shaek on Rasigon. She did not remember this information herself. Rather a datapad she clung to contained most of the information she had striven to memorize the night prior. As an ally of the union, they of course have valid concern over cooperating with the clan.
Her mistress, the Tasharen Kamena Gimar, let out a short, heavy sigh as she swung around in place. She clicked one of her heels against the ground, prompting her two assistants to hold, as she rested her arms akimbo on her hips.
How do I look? She intoned in a pleasant, gentle voice that still carried hints of venomous authority.
She swung around in a circle as she asked this, the cloth of her white, split-thigh dress fluttering in the front while the half-gown in the back, reaching only as far as her upper thighs, swung side to side. Her dress was low-cut, with her shoulders covered by three thin bands of cloth strips, locked in place by two golden hoops binding each half of the dress. Golden bands adorned her pairs of arms and shapely long legs, ending in a pair of gold open-toed heels.
Her skin was quite pale, though artificially devoid of any blemish or imperfection. Her hair was short, only falling a little beneath her ears, but was full of volume and shared the same bright hue as sakura flowers. Her most defining feature, however, was that which made her well-known and much gossiped about in Azhani society. At each side of her torso, extending out just below her arms, was a second pair of limbs, designed in impression of her natural arms, and artificially connected to her nervous system. They were fully capable of movement and sometimes caused her phantom sensations, a result of her cybernetic modifications and her brains natural biology interweaving. They looked almost real, except for small seams along the length that betrayed the false dermal layer.
All four of her hands were augmented with cybernetic prostheses, appearing as gold tipped fingers and fish-scale nails. Many of her other augmentations and modifications were invisible to the eye, such as reduced, artificial kidneys to allow room for her false arms to interface with her nervous system. Lastly her eyes, naturally green in color, had rings of circuitry along the sclera leading into the irises of her eyes, causing them to emit a slight golden hue in low-light.
You look wonderful, Madam Gimar. The other assistant, Alezand, said in a deep voice. He was not from Reseldathe planet they were currently onunlike Milaia who was born here and lived her entire life under the dominion of the Gimars.
Alezand was dressed much differently from her as well, wearing a long, gray belted tunic that reached down to his knees, and a pair of tight-fitting black trousers tucked into ankle high shoes.
Of course, you look beautiful and exotic as always, madam. Milaia said, offering a timid bow. But the clan, madam? Ghost Hawk was the first and easiest choice, but this is something that could come up in negotiations.
Kamena shook her head, letting out a deep breath as her eyes simultaneously emitted a soft light. She looked distant and removed from the world for a moment, before snapping her attention back to Milaia.
A matter from a hundred years ago seems scarcely relevant to me. If anything the Dae should be thanking the Ghost Hawks, since their invasion gave them cause to annex and assimilate the Shaek. Maybe it was their intention all along?
She turned away from the duo and began walking again, the small entourage of soldiers behind her clicking their heels and saluting in pairs as she passed, then forming ranks and following behind her. The foyer was a large, spacious interior, with pillars along the sides carved with intricate runes and decorative images of both Theian and Gimar familys history. Water fell from a wall terrarium to their right, trickling down a rocky wall onto a layer of smooth pebbles and reeds, where it seeped through into the hidden grate and was recycled again. Tables and seating arrangements were scattered all around the area, with viewing screens and displays along the walls, a central screen for entertainment at one side surrounded in the front by sectional sofas and chairs.
A host of servants moved to and fro in around them, though the vast majority of them were working droids. Such wealthy families, which all tasharen houses fell under, often collected servants, whether Azhani or elsewise, as status symbols. Having organic servants was something of a trophy, since legions of manufactured combat and leisure droids were always but a beck and call away. Having loyal people, however, was something much desired.
The droids were all color-coded based on their design and purpose for the estate grounds. Many of the elaborate service models were of Tasimila make, embellished with black and gold frames; body casings were decorated with floral and geometric patterns. Then the security droids, of which the vast majority were the Ukaz model, were furnished in simple black treated metal. A few of them at the exterior windows, moving along the perimeter of the estate through its grounds, wielded coilguns devoid of optics; the rifles appearing to have been cut from slabs of metal and machined perfectly for their usage. The majority carried only batons and tasers, and their shoulder-mounted gas dispersal systems.
When are they expected to arrive? You know I dont like waiting.
Alezand looked at his wrist, where a tiny holographic display appeared. They entered the system three days ago, and our sensors clocked their shuttles departing a little over an hour. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes?
Kamena hummed, content with his answer. She threw open the doors to the exterior of the mansion, stepping out into the bright daylight. Reselda was very much a typical garden world of the uniona continental landscape that had been handcrafted and manipulated over millennia to suit the needs of its people. It was largely agrarian in purpose, as the Esrey systems main product was foodstuff and its respective byproduct. Only a few colonized moons, starbases and research stations on the other scattered worlds of the system provided any sort of interesting stimulation for Tasharen Kamena. Usually she preferred the calculated atmosphere and function of stellar living, calling home numerous residential satellites locked in orbit across system space.
However, she and her advisors deemed a trip to the surface beneficial for bargaining. On one hand it showed the wealth and power of her position; on the other what she stood to offer to the legion of cloned Clanners; and on her other pair of hands it presented her as the dutiful vicar of the system, as the union demanded of her.
The rays of light felt cool upon her skin, shining through a misty atmosphere that caused the sun to have a white coloration. Reselda was on the edges of easily habitable space, causing the planet to have cool growing periods and cold winters, with expansive, frozen poles. Though it was pleasant, Kamena found it uncomfortable. The temperature was uneven and variable, and as she walked down the patios platforming steps, the position of the sun changed too much. Such things were disagreeable to her; she was forced to deal with them for the time being.
Walking across the estate grounds, she and her assistants arrived at one of the many outcroppings of buildings; this collection oversaw a twin-set of landing pads, with a small barracks and air traffic tower that was barely two and a half-stories tall. Around a hundred soldiers were gathered, with two dozen of them being human and the remainder combat droids.
She could have called for more. Easily a thousand of her familys guards could have filled the field behind her, waiting in regimented squares to greet her guests. She preferred something more intimate, and her advisors had spoken to her regarding the Clanners. They were a martial people.
Reflecting on it, she thought they sounded simple. An unremarkable people. They would not appreciate such shows of strength, because their civilization did not allow itself to entertain weakness being part of them. They had nothing to compare to.
In a way she found this intriguing, and had Milaia spend the better part of three hours a few days past detailing the histories of the clans. She found herself being bored by their military pursuits and honors, but found their societywarped around their existence as cloned soldiersunderstandably exotic and alien.
She folded both pairs of arms in front of her, tapping her fingers against the back of her hands as she waited, her eyes gazing towards the sky above. Milaia and Alezand stood beside her, mimicking her actions, while the host of human soldiers waited patiently for the arrival.
Soon, a few minutes past what Alezand had assured her, a small, miniscule dot appeared in the sky. It appeared as a star, but was unmistakable in the bright daylight, especially as the atmosphere caught fire around the shuttle craft as it deployed counter thrust. It drew quickly closer, growing in scale by each passing second as Kamena waited, an unreadable expression on her face.
Burrowing down through the atmosphere, the Clanner dropship slowed to a crawl before landing with a loud clunk, as the landing gears straightened the craft. The dropship was painted a dull gray, and was one of the more angular crafts which clans such as Ghost Hawk used. Angled plates were all along the spine of the craft leading all the way to its nose, acting as one of the systems used to intercept Anti-Air. These plates fluttered downward into resting position, as the deployment ramp opened.
Standing at the height of the ramp, was the Star Marshal of clan Ghost Hawk: GH-CO-K001512. Nicknamed Able, he never referred to himself as such, nor expected any of his officers to call him it. His power armor was a metallic blue, with a singular white stripe going down the right side of the length of his helmet. He wore a deep crimson cape, as was customary for Star Marshals the capes were worn as representation of their status in Mazekya as military leaders of their Feudatory. The cape was held by a simple but large chain, perhaps the only real article he wore that could be described as fashionable. Behind the Star Marshal were a General and an Admiral, both representing the forces the Clan was bringing to bear. The Fleet Admiral and Field Marshal, both leading successors to the Star Marshal, were always represented at these meetings, but never present. It was the Star Marshals main authority to negotiate contracts and represent the clan before the nations, while the Fleet Admiral and Field Marshal continued to maintain their duties.
Two other soldiers were present, but they merely occupied either side of the ramp. None of the Clanners had weapons present besides their armor; It was purposefully done to appear as negotiators, first and foremost. Able knew that with these deals, should they somehow go south, that little of the clans cohesion would be lost should he be killed or captured. Clenching his hands into fists, the Star Marshal walked at pace down the ramp, and toward the estate, followed closely behind by the Admiral, Phantom, and the General, Lock. The two couldnt help but turn their heads to view the estate for what it was. To them, sterile hallways and blown out bunkers were the norm, and this was what one could be considered to be alien.
The blue sky, the artificial garden, a gaudy mansion. It is beautiful, but Lock turned his head forward. ... It is artificial, is it not?
Ahmon, the Neanderthal homeworld, looks similar to this. Similarly artificial, as well. Phantom turned his head to meet his equal. Though perhaps this is more similar to Saimutra the Aisaren Homeworld. What do you think, sir?
Able continued marching forward, as the ranks of guards began to be made out as individual soldiers rather than an unending wave of infantry. This world is artificial. Ahmon is artificial. We, ourselves, arent natural. Har Seir, is. We remember Har Seir, even if weve never been there.
A blessing from the Archons, Star Marshal.
Always.
The three made it to where Kamena stood, the three stopping as they saw the Tasharen. Able looked her over, his helmet blinding her to his opinions: It was all too much for the Star Marshal to even comprehend. He twisted his head, as if attempting to find an angle where the Tasharen looked Natural. Finding no angle, he couldnt help but look at her four arms as if she were more of a machine than a person. Clanners were used to the sight of cybernetics, as well as robotics but that was usually something only those they shot at used, such as the Azhani. Able knew no Neanderthal, natural or cloned, whod go through with such augmentation it was all out of their league. Perhaps the Kuratur or Archons did something similar, though he could hardly imagine the Archons doing it on themselves.
Able rested his hands behind his back, looking at Kamena intently. Tasharen Kamena Gimar? We have a contract to discuss.
Kamena placed her pairs of arms on her hips, an indulgent smile on her lips as she took in the sight of the giant, power-armored men. These Clanners in some ways were not so different from herself or her own people. She had watched a few newsreels prior to the meeting, relics of the Clans campaign against Chelegar. On video they seemed wildly different; less natural and more a force of engineered destruction. Reporters captured first contacts between Azhani droids and soldiers challenging the Clanner forces, which were fierce, determined and always cataclysmic. She remembered one clip the most: A video of a squad of soldiers and droids overcoming a Jade Viper unit, and then picking through the field of dead pulled the helmet off one of the cloned soldiers for a photo opportunity. The man beneath was not that different, Kamena felt. A stronger brow ridge and sunken eyes; a larger nose on average.
The platoon of household soldiers behind her presented a salute, striking their right hand balled into a fist off of their chest, while their left remained tucked behind them. They exclaimed the name of Gimar in characteristic fever, the multitudes of droids forming the majority of the contingent likewise squawking through their voice modulators.
As she saw the star marshal alongside his officers, a thought reached her that caused her to feel foolish for having ever imagined otherwise. The Clans were far less remarkable than she had grown up believing, and decades of internalized propaganda made them out to be mythologized fighters. Remnants from a barbaric age recreated to do their masters bidding. Clones of a race deprived of their right of extinction and eternal rest, forced to fight and serve.
Instead the star marshal was simply a man. Much taller than her, Kamena noted; more capable, stronger and well-built. Suited for the tasks of war Clanners were known for. His eyes carried the weight of a survivor, a veteran. Not the organic machines of destruction touted by so many former Commonwealth states.
She had a strange mixture of disappointment and ennui well inside her. It was nevertheless impressive just how much the Clanners had succeeded in maintaining an fearsome reputation. Perhaps soldiers seeing the face of men they killed repeated time and time again gave reason to this caution.
Thatvery much sois true. She conceded, waving a gentle motion with one of her hands. Her lower pair of arms clasped hands now in front of her waist as she continued. And you are the delegates of Clan Ghost Hawk. Your
She faltered for a second to think of a word, her eyes flashing from the golden circuitry. Tribe? That was the first word that came to mind, but it was too archaic. Too steeped in connotation.
...peoples reputation greatly precedes you. She assuaged, preferring the more generic term out of simplicity. Allow me to welcome you to Reselda, Marshal. It is not my prime choice of destinations, but it was the most direct course. Simplicity in all things?
Her bottom hands clacked together as she spoke, her fingernails striking and clicking in rhythmic motion. Eventually she raised her upper right hand and circled it around as she turned halfway between the Clanners and her retinue of soldiers. Alezand and Milaia continued to stand beside her, silently waiting.
The lead sergeant of the units voice rang out and the platoon began to move into two rows facing the estate, shuffling into formation. The humans in the ranks moved with the same automatic, measured movements as the droids; years of training regimented into their every motion.
Shall we? She cooed with a smile. I much prefer sitting in comfort than standing.
Able looked to the ranks of formed soldiers and droids almost like they were his own. They moved with certainty in their actions, just like the Clanners, standing like tall pillars before their superiors. But the faces of the soldiers which Able thought closest to his own were all varied; these people had a history which molded them into how they appeared before him. The droids, all the same, were more like the clones of Ghost Hawk than the human soldiers beside them. It unnerved the Star Marshal, to be more similar to robots than people.
The entire place seemed alien to Able. It was not just the people, it was the planet; open breathable skies. The sound of wind and birds upon the air. When Able did these negotiations, they were on stations on the outer reaches of a system, where the recycled air could be tasted, and where only the echoing of boots on metal flooring sounded throughout the halls. And when he thought of planets, it was usually through an objective sense: Capture the planet. Raid it for resources. Fulfill the contract. If it werent that, it was from memories implanted through his training of rough landings upon near-inhospitable planets where the experience was the battle. Where the sound of the atmosphere was that of the unending roar of orbital bombardments. Where Able died a dozen times before achieving victory. Such were the implanted memories, more focused on drills and discipline than focusing on the environment. A torrent of gray and brown terrain with not a spec of life besides the clones themselves.
He almost couldnt imagine a place like this being used to negotiate a mercenary contract. It was too clean and proper. A place such as peace or to him, seemed of peace, to be in a state of war. He remembered Rasigon: how the Clanners tore tunnels through the sands to raid the Shaek for all they had. It was a wretched conflict that Able could not imagine a place such as it being at peace. Not like Resalda. Perhaps it was the familiarity of it all, which flooded over him.
If sitting is preferred, then we shall. the Star Marshal said snappily, not wanting to forget why he was even here. Lead the way.
Kamena gestured with her two bottom arms, snapping her true right hands fingers together loudly. It could barely be heard over the sound of soldiers marching into formation, but the image was clear enough to her two assistants, who shuffled out of the way as she turned abruptly. She gestured with a current of moving fingers for the Clanners to accompany her while Milaia and Alezand took up posts at each of her flanks.
At once they were off, following behind the trailing mass of soldiers that moved in repetitive lockstep, marching up and down the rolling hills of the exterior courtyard. The only thing to mark their path was the paved route they followed, and the grandiose walls of the estate rising in the distance. The structure was built into three wings, though from the direction they ventured only the east and west sides were readily visible; the south, which was the natural entrance to the estate, protruded forward and created a third wing housing the foyer and levee rooms.
They walked from the north, however; deep in the courtyard and gardens of the estate, where a time ago members of the Gimar family once supposedly galloped horses and organized sports and gymnastic matches. Now it was mostly left to fester in a frozen appearance of abandonment, eternally worked and maintained by the staff and autonomous droids of the grounds, but never again privy to host such extravagant outings. The manor was different when viewed from the north. More intimate. Overlooking the lawn was a pseudo-facade of a balcony constructed into a rounded portico, with tall windows stretching from the floor to ceiling. Almost appearing as if they were cut clean through the very material the structure itself was made from. The walls were painted similar to henna, with a black roof thats trim overhung partially; this overhang was periodically inset with lights that washed out the borders of the manor in bright, unrelenting light. Even during hours of the day, which shone through the slight miasma of fog and mist that permeated Reselda.
Reaching the veranda that held preeminence as it filled most of the space in the rear entry, the house guard filtered off into two ranks deep, forming a semi-circular band at the steps to the estate that intentionally centered the focus of the Ghost Hawk delegates forward. The automatic door slid open as soon as Kamena reached it, the sensors detecting her presence. She looked back, a lingering look of amused curiosity on her face when her eyes reached the Clanner delegates, and she motioned for them to follow her inside.
The interior was pleasant. Elaborate. Wealthy. Ostentatious. Hard wooden floors in a cherry color covered most of the vestibule and drawing room. Tapping ones feet upon it revealed a hollowness characteristic of authenticity. One of the sides of the drawing room, as they stepped further into the display of wealth, was fully glass, with large panes only broken up by miniscule bezeling. Streaks of white rays from the alabaster sun were cast upon the interior, causing Kamena to look at her wrist, where a dermal-implanted device displayed a small virtual screen. A moment later the windows tinted, drowning out the light.
There was no lack of seating arrangements once the mistress of the estate had seen everyone inside. In fact there might have been too many, as many cushioned seats, loungers, couches and armchairs were dotted around, many at seating arrangements focused around greenery, digital screens, or in proximity to a bar near the windows. Without missing a beat, Kamena elected for a place for them to make their claim, pointing out a sofa sectional surrounding a glass table. This arrangement overlooked a stack of aquariums, each filled with an assortment of aquatic fauna, most of which were not native to this world. Two aquariums were even reddish in color, filled with exotic bioluminescent creatures that moved by some kind of organic pump that pulled in and pushed out water for locomotion. Perhaps they were from Thader, as the malsar homeworld was uniquely known for such animalia.
Though she directed the Clanners to the sofa, and pointed at the seats she desired her assistants take, Kamena herself did not join them directly. Instead, she laid upon a chaise longue, supporting her upper body with a few pillows as she crossed her jeweled legs.
Im sure youve heard a number of different things from our government. She spoke abruptly, her head turned away to the side as she rested her two pairs of arms at her waist. Varying degrees of requests. Hypotheticals. We are so dreadfully known for our prosody and ambage. I am curious, before we start, if you will indulge me: What meaning of conversation topic do you expect to have?
Kamena leaned forward now slightly, shuffling in her seat as she turned her head towards the star marshal, looking at him.
We come from very difficult cultures and societies. I figure it only fair to ask; to know if we are harmonic.
Able leaned back on the sofa, hearing it creek between the weight of him and his companions. A lot of weight between three tall clones and power armor, though it didnt buckle. Feeling as if the situation demanded it, Able went to remove his helmet the sound of latches unrestricting the helmet from the neck, folding into the flat bottom of the helmet, allowing it to be removed, though also exposing the user to any breathable hazards. Removing his helmet, Able removed the facade of being merely an autonomous soldier: His skin was a dark bronze color, his hair black and cut short; faded on the sides of his head, and only thick enough on the top of the head so as not to be see-through.
His brows were thick, and gave a slight semblance of always being annoyed, or mad. They rested upon the thick frontal ridge that marked the Neanderthals as different from baseline humans. He had facial hair; a slight breach of regulation in the Clan, though allowed when short enough. His facial hair was a beard, which was cut short, and didnt leave the skin in any major way. All his hair was straight, and didnt curl in any visible way as if it was an artificial quirk assigned to the clones. His eyes, similarly, werent considered natural they were purple, with an amber corona around the pupil. Unlike most Clanners, Able did not have the numerous tattoos or piercings commonly found on grunts and officers alike. He only had one visible, on the right side of his neck slightly below the chin: a stylized version of the Ghost Hawk symbol, with his Clanner ID just above it.
Able took in a deep breath and gritted his teeth for a moment, getting used to the feeling of fresh air upon his skin. Handing his helmet off to his Admiral and receiving a datapad from his General, he took his time looking at the datapad before responding. The call for a meeting with clan Ghost Hawk would imply a direct request to acquire them for a mercenary contract. Now, if that contract is simply for dealing with pirates His voice was a lot clearer, less raspy and guttural; the helmet had scrambled most of it before. It was a smooth though deep voice, which wouldve been unnatural if it were anything but.
Able leaned back once more, trying to make himself comfortable in such a foreign environment. ... Id be surprised, though still willing to accept if its a short contract. But the Azhani government can lay all the hypotheticals before you and the general public as much as they want it doesnt deny the current state of war. Now, for any other form of conversation well, anything that pleases the client is fine. Though the end goal should still be sealing a contract.
A measured response.
Kamena remarked, tapping one of her hands against the back of her palm in a ceaseless rhythm, each reverberation feeling as if it was in sync with her very thoughts. You are not far off the mark either. I am not granted all measures of knowledge or gossip about this, but you are right about the war. It has been a stagnant mistake for decades that occasionally heats up just enough to haunt our psyches, you see?
She raised one of her hands partially, flexing her gold-tipped fingers back and forth and brushing them against each other.
The union desires a change in this course. I cannot disclose such information, of course, I am only the messengerbut the union tires of this ceaseless affair with the Romans. The navy means to find a decisive solution.
She flicked her head to the side, her eyes training on Milaia. The tasharens assistant had taken her position on a supportless cushioned seat, similar to an ottoman. She crossed her legs over each other, holding a datapad close to her breast that she had been glancing down at occasionally during the tepid conversation. Now she saw her mistress suddenly looking at her, and her face involuntarily blushed as she met her eyes.
Kamena gave a false smile. Provide them what information you can.
Milaia nodded, turning her attention to the imposing Clanners dwarfing the sectional in front of her. Yes, yesof course. The unions navy is making preparations for a large-scale offensive operation. This operation necessitates the conquering and long-term occupation of systems and planets. If Her voice choked for a second, If you have followed any reports regarding the Restorationist Campaign, you may know that our efforts to occupy Roman worlds have been challenged and defeated at every opportunity.
The union has decided that the Clans are capable warriors. Kamena interrupted, silencing her assistant. Mostly that you have experience in planetary operations; the union has given you a role to play, much like an actor on a set I think. That being supporting our combat efforts. Alezand, give him the details please.
Of course, maam. He spoke, The naval service desires to have your Clans forces attached to them as landing parties during any planetary invasion. Youll have general operational independence of your own; we Azhani have no intention to constrict your war policy. Simply: You will be given directives and general orders in conjunction with our own forces. Many of these specifics we cannot really discuss at the present moment, I hope you understand.
So, its true then? Able put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. The Azhani seek to break the Roman lines?
Lock turned to Able, trying to comprehend how far the restorationists plan to go, while filling Able in on the details live. The Roman lines have been holding at Haoyu and Aiguo for decades. Supported by Azhani droids, the Kalakari have conducted a successful insurgency to keep the Romans from claiming both planets as entirely theirs. However, the sheer number of forces on both planets is Astounding.
But that is not all systems the Romans have border the Azhani, correct?
Yes, theres also Yuchen. But besides an inhabited moon in the system, theres only the Arcturus Fortress. Lock went to the datapad Able was holding, pointing to the bordering systems on it. I mention Haoyu and Aiguo, because clan Silver Fangs have been operating there. Same with clan Skin-walker.
If they want an honor combat we would have to oblige. They have been operating for longer in this war then wed have. It's theirs by right of conquest.
Wed be relying on both clans feeling the tide turn to not try and hold us down as the Azhani push.
Able knew the objectives of the Archons were secretive to him and the other Star Marshals. They only knew of the basics: the Romans and Aruthians couldnt win. The Restorationists must become disillusioned to the idea of the Commonwealth ever being restored. It was undoubted that more clans would try and throw their weight into this conflict in the coming years. Well have to risk that, if our clients will. Either way, itd pull forces from the main fight from both sides.
The Admiral Phantom looked to Kamena and the rest of the Azhani Delegation. What of the Clans fleet? We have a full strength fleet, ten thousand total. Has the Azhani military not accounted for this yet?
If your fleet is looking to participate or wants to fight, that can probably be arranged. Kamena noted. I find it strange how eager you are to fight, though; there was no mention of your navy at all, and yet you still propose it.
Milaia looked up from her datapad. The navy is prepared to allocate task force distinctions to your fleet, but to be clear your Clans role would primarily be focused on planetary operations. She spoke, bringing the conversation back into focus away from her mistress comments.
I believe you already know the operational area. Alezand added. Haoyu and Aiguo? Yes. The union wishes to make it clear that we will be taking you on for a long term contract, of course, but the key part of your orchestraso to speakis an envisioned double breakthrough of these two core systems of the Roman-Kalakari space. The unions ground forces have met and challenged combat with the Roman-aligned Clans a multitude of times now, and it has become abundantly clear the usefulness of shock force deployments.
Unlike Milaia and their mistress, Alezand spoke more comfortably regarding the topic of military planning and strategic necessities. Likely he had served in the services, presumably in the navy since it was the most common branch.
Star Marshal Able looked at his datapad, minimizing the images of Aiguo and Haoyu, and pulling up a list of all payments the Clan had received in the last fifty years. As you people should know, the deployment of armies requires resources doubly so for clone armies that must be made in the system of their target. The benefit is obvious in that we are able to reinforce at a moment's notice. And we expect the Azhani to maintain our supplies at both Aiguo and Haoyu until the line breaks. Any disruption that delays getting our supplies, delays the solid breakthroughs that your coalition needs. the Marshal smiled. So, I recommend you keep us supplied.
Lock looked at the Azhani hostess. Since the Azhani seem adamant in using our ground forces first and foremost, it would make sense for them to prioritize getting these supplies to our army, first and foremost.
Able took a solid look at his Admiral. While it was hard to tell his emotion displayed by his helmet, he could feel that he thought his branch was getting snubbed in some way. The army was getting all the glory in this conflict so far. Indeed. Though, I have to ask the Azhani what they are paying us afterward? The standard fare would be supplies necessary to refit and resupply our clan for the next ten years, pending the length of our contract. Though offering multiple payments over the course of several years is fine If the Azhani believe themselves unable to make payment.
Kamena shifted on the lounging chair, propping up her waist and looking clearly at the trio of Clanners now. Her eyes shone again with unnatural hues for a moment until she returned a slight smile, the line on her lips creeping into a grin.
The chamber of war and our general staff came to a conclusion regarding that. She said, the terms sounding alien when spoken in her voice. It was difficult to imagine a socialite conducting such considerations on behalf of the entire union, but the complexity of the multitude of worlds within its governance could not easily be managed by dispatched authority alone. Sometimes, in the case of Kamena, the authority of the person was already inherent, and thus convenient.
She swung her leg off the side of the chair, lurching her whole body forward. We will transfer a fee of two billion eight hundred fifty million. Two-point-eight billion. She reiterated, suddenly rising to her feet and traveling from the chaise longue to where her assistants sat, resting her hands on the back of Milaias armchair. That is already exchanged into the tachyon rate, of course.
Milaia looked back at her, leaning over her shoulder just so that she could barely see the face of her mistress behind her, catching her attention. She looked down at her for a moment, barely a second of silence passing before continuing.
Of course that is only part of the payment. Mostly to cover materiel losses and equipment purchasesor production. She gestured flippantly with one of her lower hands. Ive been reading up on your people for a little while now. Call it prep work. I take this task very seriously.
She swung out from the back of Milaia now, crossing the room and standing in the center, in between both delegations now. And what Ive learned is that your cloning process is very intensive. Requires numerous resources. Macronutrients that are essential in the production and stabilization of cell clusters. Im no scientist, of course.
Kamena raised up her wrist and activated the holographic interface installed in her subdermal device, adjusting the tint of the large windows behind them until the white light of the sun bathed the floors and furniture. The sun was just low enough in the sky for it to twinkle into view, appearing starburst from atmospheric interference.
Reselda is under my tutelage. Its a fertile world, with a good atmosphere for growing crops. Agricultural production is the core of this world. Producing food? Water?These are the most basic simple elements to sustain a people, regardless of how great or advanced they are. Lareshi, humans, Clanners; in the end its functionally the same, just a difference in use. As per acceptance of your contract with my government, I am authorized to transfer all surplus produce of Reselda into your hands for the next ten years.
The Clanners looked at one another, with Able looking quite satisfied. The T-Cred payment is good. And the ten year subsidies from Reselda could be quite big.
Or quite small. General Lock looked at Kamena. Well need a breakdown of how much excess produce Reselda creates, to make sure that this excess production will actually hold.
Either way, Able stretched his arms and neck, seemingly understanding that the deal was essentially done. It is much easier than the old way of raiding for it ourselves. All shipped into orbit to easily grab. Course, its also less fun. Though from the sounds of it, well have enough action to keep ourselves busy for the next few years. This is agreeable, but, we will need to discuss how much this excess production is, and how you plan to deliver it. We could, I suppose, simply have our own ships take care of it. Though if you want to transfer the supplies yourself to our vessels or have a drop off point, that can also be arranged.
We can provide decade records of our production outputs for you to analyze. Milaia offered. On site transfer is also preferable. She concluded, eying Kamena to see if she disagreed or differed in opinion whatsoever.
Her mistress said nothing for a moment, then flicked her focus back on the marshal. You have our proposal, our contract terms and specifics that you need to know. The details in particular you can look over in a moment, after recess. If everything is to your liking, what is your final word?
Able gave a crooked little smile before standing up, deactivating his datapad as he did so. It seems we have come to an amicable agreement, besides some minor adjustments and explanations which can be discussed some time in orbit. You can consider Clan Ghost Hawk, hired. Able looked to his two comrades, who nodded softly, and all three bowed courteously. Though, there is that bit of chitchat you wished to have, and since the day is young why not settle for some lunch? Im not exactly in a rush to get back in orbit, considering Reseldas far more habitable than any ship the Clanners have.
Kamenas gaze softened, the first genuine show of emotion from her that was not premeditated or calculated. She turned to the side, placing two of her hands on her waist and gestured with another to the end of the room, where a door led to the dining area.
In that case, I can have my staff prepare something for you. Im sure we can accommodate your tastes. She said with a grin, snapping her fingers for Milaia and Alezand to stand up and join her.
Though it was not shown, this smile was one of relief. Satisfaction that she had managed to negotiate such an important agreement; an arrangement whos role of architect was thrust on her with little preparation. Nevertheless she persevered, and now the Clanners had signed their fate alongside the Azhani in the pool of gas soon to be thrust on the waning fire.
