Check, Part 1
Roman government in exile temporary headquarters
Izinchi impatiently paced back and forth, fist clenched and phone pressed to her ear. “Oi, pick up the bloody phone, ya eejit, or I swear, I’ll—”
“Izinchi, I think you should calm down,” Kresge said, “You’re not fully recovered yet. Stress will cause complications.”
“Haud yer weesht, Kresge! I’m perfectly—” Izinchi doubled over and coughed. “Ignore that! I’m fine!”
“You should probably listen to Kresge,” Gebhard said, “We just got you out of the hospital.”
“That means I’m right as rain!” Izinchi said. “And I’ve got to tell Mozaffar he’s a wee nyaff!”
“You’ve reached the secretary of Minister Mozaffar,” a government secretary said, “He is not accepting calls at the moment. Especially from ex-senator Izinchi Ochimeca.”
The call disconnected, and Izinchi slammed it down on the table. “DAMNIT! YER A WEE NYAFF!”
“You know he can’t hear us, right?” Kresge said.
“I KEN!”
“We should probably give up and start damage control,” Gebhard said, “I’ve already reached out to Börte. She’s going to help us out.”
“What do you mean?” Kresge said.
“She’ll provide aid and shelter for everybody who’s leaving Persia,” Gebhard said, “We can’t go to Afghanistan or Turkestan—those are still active Pesah-ridden fronts—which leaves only one direction: Mesopotamia.”
“We’re going to frakking Mesopotamia?!” Izinchi said.
“We don’t have anywhere else to go,” Gebhard said, “We’ve got several major cities under our control, but Börte says that’s only a temporary stop.”
“An’ where’re we supposed tae end up?”
Gebhard looked down. “…the Astrakhan area.”
“Didn’t that tyrant Bielke kill everyone in charge and raze most of the city?”
“He left western Yavdi to focus on the other warlords in the north and east. Börte is confident she can create a safe zone for the exiles in the Astrakhan area.”
Izinchi and Kresge both stared at Gebhard.
“What?” Gebhard said. “I’m only the messenger.”
“You
really want us to go to that anarchic hellscape?” Kresge said. “In case you forgot, I got captured in
Yavdi!”
“Our only alternatives are Jerusalem or its fronts,” Gebhard said, “We don’t have the military strength to survive against Jerusalem, but we can stand a chance against the warlords. I’ll take what remains of Yavdi over getting gassed in Turkestan or infected with Pesah in Afghanistan.”
“What about food? Where are we going to get our food?”
“As we speak, Börte’s troops in Taurica are moving north to secure Kharkiv and the farmland around it. The cities got gassed by Haynau so we can’t stay there, but that part of Yavdi and eastern Taurica has some of the most fertile soil on Earth, and a lot of it’s still usable. Even with a late planting, we should harvest enough to break even. As for energy…well, I think Dr. Hansen can figure something out.”
Izinchi continued pacing across the room. She put down her phone. “So we’re going back to Yavdi, huh?”
“We’ve got no other choice,”
“Why don’t we just stop in Mesopotamia?” Kresge said. “At least we know the territory. That’s our home.”
“Jerusalem knows the place too,” Gebhard said, “After they nuked Constantinople, I’m certain they’ll have no qualms with nuking us. Ideally we settle in one of the cities in Taurica, but the same problem would present itself, and I doubt any of us, Lieutenant Gurkani particularly, would want to live near one of those death camps. We’ll figure something out once we get there.”
“Kresge, it’s fine,” Izinchi said, “Let’s go.”
“You’re not seriously thinking of going!”
“You got a better idea?” Izinchi crossed her arms.
Kresge tried thinking of something better, but he only shook his head. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“That settles it.” Izinchi’s attitude shifted. “Gebbers, whip up a plan fer flittin’ us all out of this blasted city.”
“On it,” Gebhard said.
“And me?” Kresge asked.
“Uh…you?” Izinchi hesitated. “I guess…provide moral support?”
“I’M A COP, NOT AN EMOTIONAL SUPPORT ANIMAL!”
“…I thought you wanted to be chancellor.”
Baghdad - June 22
“Come on, everyone, let’s move it!” Igre shouted, watching the soldiers hauling crates of important equipment out of their former headquarters. “We don’t have time to spare!”
Börte walked up to her. “Hello, Lieutenant. How are things going?”
“Much better than expected,” Igre reported, “Very low rate of desertion, far less than what we expected. On the other hand, the commanders of the Persian 8th through 17th Armies have agreed to help us.”
“That’s nearly half of Operation Huma! Don’t they know they’re committing treason?”
“They don’t consider it treason,” Igre said, “It’s more of an…honor thing.”
“They must take honor really seriously,” Börte said, “I wasn’t expecting this much help. I have to adjust my plans.”
“You can thank Julian for that one,” Igre said, “I heard he went and personally appealed to every single Huma commander.”
“When I meet him in person, I will.”
Igre looked back at the soldiers going about their duties. “So what’s going to happen now? I never thought in a million years we’d abandon the front.”
“You must feel terrible,” Börte said.
Igre did feel terrible, deep inside. There was a rage eating away at the edges of her heart as she recalled what she went through at that camp in Taurica. The hunger, the experiments, the torture, the dehumanization…when the Yavdians rolled in and shot the guards, Igre begged with every fiber of her being to join Börte’s staff just so she could pay back Jerusalem. And now here she was, giving up the fight. And for Romans, no less. They were the same people, in the end. No matter what ideas they believed in or what their mouths said, their blood was still the same. So were they worth saving?
Yes they are. Of course they should be saved.
“Never been better,” Igre said, “Just want to do my part, whatever that is. But what happens to the front now? Will Jerusalem just take it all back?”
“Mozaffar’s men might try to fill in the gaps we left, but there aren’t enough of them. If Jerusalem launches a counterattack, it’s almost certain they could push the Artesh back to the border.”
“Damn you Mozaffar,” Igre muttered, “You shot yourself in the foot.”
“Unfortunately, the people of Persia won’t see it that way,” Börte said, “They’ll just see the Yavdians backstabbing them and leaving to protect treacherous Romans.”
“Sometimes, I hate how this world works.”
The good get punished and the bad reap the rewards. Thousands starve and freeze while a few lounge in luxury and profit off the misery. “If only things could change.”
Börte’s expression changed as she said that. Then she lowered her voice. “What if we
could change it?”
Igre looked at her. “What do you mean, General?”
Börte smiled. “I have something you might be interested in. Not as your general, but as a fellow likeminded individual…”
---
Samir walked around the tank they had just unloaded, inspecting its cannon and treads before focusing on its engine. “Interesting. This isn’t a normal M1 Augustin.”
“According to the specs, it’s a Kaveh type tank,” Leyla said, “It’s based on the prototype driven by Gunduz back in April, with modifications made for mass production.”
“So it’s an automated tank,” Gulichi said.
“Not exactly. It’s more like the barrier to operating it is drastically lowered. You could pilot this thing with as few as one or two people. The main weapons system is automated, so all the gunner has to do is aim and—” Leyla mimicked a finger gun and made an explosion noise. “Bang!”
“Sounds too good to be true,” Billy said.
“If it’s too good to be true, then why’d Julian specifically ask for it, along with the other experimental tech?” Leyla said.
“The main question is, is this the only one?” Samir asked.
“Mozaffar and the General Staff probably have the original blueprints in Isfahan, but yes, this is the only prototype they’ve actually built so far.”
“Good.”
“Should we…I don’t know, give it a name?” Gulichi said. “For good luck.”
“It’s a tank, not a horse. Do we need such superstitions?”
“It would be nice to have.”
“I agree,” Billy said.
“Me too,” Ruby said.
“Sure,” Leyla said.
“You guys got any suggestions?” Samir asked.
“Uh…” Gulichi thought. “Probably not anything Persian.”
“I don't feel like a Roman name works either,” Billy said.
“Oh, I got an idea!” Gulichi said. “How about Ilmarinen?”
“What, the Finnish god?”
“He’s another blacksmith, so it should keep with the naming scheme.”
“Like Takomaan,” Samir said, “Named after the god of the forge. I like it.”
“So do I,” Gulichi said.
“I don’t know what you mean, but the name sounds cool,” Ruby said, “If a little wordy.”
“How about Ilma then? That’s the shorter name.”
“Sure.”
“Great,” Billy said.
“Sounds good,” Leyla said.
“Alright, then,” Samir said, “Henceforth, we’ll call this tank the Ilma.”
“You know, I have a feeling we’re going to use a lot of Finnish names in the future,” Gulichi said.
Kuhpayeh
“Get lost!” Ilyana waved around a crowbar, keeping at bay a crowd of bullies twice her size.
“What’s with this little girl?!” one of the bullies said. “Did she really…”
“Nobody hurts my friends!” Ilyana declared.
Friedrich cowered in the corner, his head wrapped in his hands.
Please make it stop. Make it stop!
He closed his eyes, but that only brought to mind images of his father being shot. Seeing his mother’s body in a coffin. Elias pressing a gun to his head. Grandmother never being home lately with all of her “real playing,” as Ilyana called it. When could they go back to the way things were?
“I…want to play the shadow dragon game again…” he muttered.
Nobody heard him. Ilyana’s attention remained focused on the bullies. One of the bullies was now screaming and clutching his unnaturally bent arm. Another was on the ground, clutching his knee. The others slowly backed away.
“Mess with my friends and this is what happens!” she said.
I’m useless…I can’t defend myself. Ilyana always has to do this for me. Why? Why can’t I do anything? Grandma’s always doing something. Mom and Dad did something. What about me?
He couldn’t keep up with how fast everything was moving. At times, it felt like he was just in Russia. Grandma driving him to Uncle Vasily’s house to meet Ilyana felt like yesterday. He still remembered that day clearly. Ilyana had walked up to him and held out her hand.
“I’m Ilyana,” she had said, “Who are you?”
“Friedrich,” Friedrich said, slightly red, “Nice to meet you.”
“We’re going to fight the dragon of darkness.” She didn’t even ask. It was a statement of fact, and it might as well have been.
“You play that game too?”
“Yes, but…nobody wants to play with me. You will play with me.”
“Sure,” Friedrich had said, “I’ll play with you.”
Ilyana had lit up. “Yay! Thank you!”
That particular game ended horribly for Friedrich because Ilyana played too aggressively and fast compared to him. But he couldn’t deny it was fun.
I want to go back to that…I want to go home…
Julian’s residence
This was not part of the plan. Julian hadn’t expected Mozaffar to make his move so soon. He had hoped to have a couple more weeks before this happened. But had he miscalculated? He had operated on the assumption that Mozaffar didn’t want to harm his political prospects with a high profile deportation campaign that would surely be unpopular within certain demographics. But what if this stunt was supposed to
help his campaign, by creating an enemy to rally against? Fear was a great motivator, after all. Oh well. It couldn’t be helped now. Fortunately, Julian’s plan was flexible. He could move his schedule up. The main issue was staying in the country after all of the Romans had left. That had been dealt with. He would blend in among the students of Isfahan Tech. Noor knew someone at the school who could make false IDs and inserted him into the system. Perhaps Julian could call on her services to get him or Angelica into government networks. But that was for later.
Angelica walked in through the door. “Good news, Julian. The Isfahan Teachers Union has agreed to the plan.”
“Excellent,” Julian said, “Has the Restaurant Owners Association responded to my request?”
“Not yet, but some of the owners sound like they’ll come onboard. I’ve also reached out to the student body of the University of Art, but we’ll have to wait a bit for a response.”
“Good. In the meantime, we should focus our efforts on the Chamber of Commerce.”
“Hey, Tani!” Angelica called behind her. “You talk to the river patrol people yet?”
Tania walked in. “Yeah, I did. They’re pissed because they’ll have ten times as many smugglers to arrest.”
“Guess not every Persian’s been swayed by Mozaffar,” Julian said, “Just as I predicted.”
“Anyways, what’s the deal here with all these organizations you want to reach out to?” Tania asked. “I doubt there’s anything in common between the teachers’ union, the chamber of commerce, art students, and the river patrol.”
“Exactly,” Julian said.
“…exactly?”
“They have very little in common,” Julian explained, “That is the reason I contacted them all. Nothing in common, yet if you put them together, you cover much of Isfahan, socially and geographically. As for what I intend to do with that…I think you can already figure it out.”
“There’s also another matter I’d like to discuss,” Angelica said, “Alex Humboldt.”
“You want me to smuggle him out of the country?” Julian said. “That can be arranged.”
“Not him,” Angelica said, “Thea Tesla.”
Oh, right. “That could be a problem.”
“You don’t want to do it?”
“Oh, no, of course I do. It’s just that in her current condition, it would be difficult to move her. And there won’t be medical facilities where we’re going.”
“We’re bringing August, though,” Tania said.
“August’s and whatever field medics Börte has won’t be enough,” Angelica said, “Thea will have to remain in a hospital for the next few weeks.”
“Where she could be locked away like they did to Wilhelmina and Gunduz?” Tania said. “What’s worse, she could be used as a hostage to force Alex, Alexandra, and Magnus to do whatever Mozaffar wants. Make him war machines to not just win the war but to silence dissent. Remember how Alex told us about his uncle Tobias?”
“Yes, yes, I remember the story about Tobias,” Julian said, “I don’t want Thea to become a political pawn. Too many of us have been caught up in Mozaffar’s game. If anybody’s going to be sacrificed, it’ll be me.”
“If you’re staying, I will too,” Angelica said, “Eva told me to look out for you, so I will.”
“I’ll do what I can to get Thea out,” Julian said, “We’ll worry about her treatment later. For now, what matters is getting her out of Mozaffar’s clutches. We have time before the University of Art and the restaurant association get back to us. Let’s find a way of moving Thea.”
---
Splitting this one into two to give myself some more time to resume writing since I am still having trouble with the next batch and things are still busy.
