Repositioning, Part 1
Hamadan- June 26
As the sun dipped behind the mountains, Alexandra walked through the streets of Hamedan, taking in the sights. Most of the damage caused during the initial Operation Huma assault had been repaired. And with all of the people she saw milling around on the sidewalks and in stores, it was hard to believe this town was once a battlefield. True, there were plenty of Jerusalemite resistance groups and holdout Crusader units operating in the area, but they were no longer serious threats. Most of the townspeople were simply glad they hadn’t been nuked by the Mad Regent, as they now called Philemon Moria. Apparently, the madman had the absolutely brilliant idea of only nuking the cities he controlled. If millions hadn’t been killed, Alexandra would have burst into laughter at that realization.
Still, Alexandra didn’t want to overstay her welcome. Thousands of exiles had arrived here over the last three days. These townspeople might have been welcoming, but so were Persians at first. Most of the exiles decided to stay in the Artesh base established on the plains outside the town. The units stationed in Hamadan were among those which had deserted to protect the exiles. Most importantly, many combat engineer units had defected to their side, and they were now put to good use building temporary housing for the exiles. They couldn’t stay here forever. Eventually, Isfahan would send loyal troops to retake the base and expel them, so before that happened, they would leave.
---
A dozen military officers and civilian leaders crowded into Hamadan’s town hall. Four major factions could be easily identified by their outfits. Igre Gurkani and her staff, wearing Yavdian green dress uniforms, took their seats first. Next were Shayan Tahmasb and the Artesh deserters, who wore light brown camouflage. They sat next to the Yavdians. After that, Gebhard and his officers, wearing faded Roman fatigues, took their seats next to Igre’s delegation. Finally, Izinchi and her aides, wearing business attire, sat in the remaining seats.
“This meeting of the Provisional Government is called to order. First on today’s agenda is the matter of food.”
“General Börte is more than happy to distribute another month’s worth of rations to the civilian population,” Igre said, “But at the current rate, we will run out within one month.”
“We have the same problem,” Shayan said, “Even with strict rationing, we’ll only have enough for a month.”
“Two months, then?” Gebhard said. “Chancellor, what about civilian supplies?”
“Most of what we got from sympathetic locals is perishable,” Izinchi said, “We don’t have that many refrigeration units, so it will only last a few days. The rest can sustain us up to two weeks.”
“What about canned food? Or nonperishable food?”
“There’s only enough for three weeks.”
“I regret that we cannot provide more rations,” Igre said, “But our troops need to be fed too.”
Gebhard couldn’t blame them. If the troops couldn’t fight, they wouldn’t even make it out of Persian-controlled territory, let alone survive against Crusaders and Bielke. “But then how will we make it past the month? We can’t keep relying on the charity of locals when they’re barely able to feed themselves already.”
“Our operating capacity is already as strained as it is,” Igre said, “We’ll soon have to abandon several tanks and other vehicles due to a lack of fuel. If we don’t get to where we need to go soon, we’ll end up traveling on foot.”
“Without adequate heating or electricity too,” Izinchi said, “We’ve had to resort to gasoline-powered generators.”
“General Börte already has plans to seize Baku and its oilfields,” Igre said, “We have the city surrounded. She has only to give the order to begin the assault.”
“What about the processing facilities?” Gebhard said. “Are they intact?”
“Ryukyuan satellite data indicates they are. It should be enough to address our fuel needs for now.”
“Let’s do it,” Gebhard said, “Baku will be our next stopping point.”
“So we’re really going to Astrakhan then?” Shayan said.
“It’s the safest option. Relatively speaking.” Gebhard laid out a map of the region on the table. “Our other options are heading south into Arabia, west into Syria and Anatolia, or north into the Caucasus. We don’t have the supplies to handle the deserts of Arabia, and Baghdad is in no condition to be lived in. Syria and Anatolia have been nuked, so we’d have to deal with the anarchy there in addition to our own needs. That leaves only the Caucasus.”
“Won’t we have to cross the Caucasus Mountains?” Izinchi asked.
“We got to Mesopotamia by going through Tamatarcha, on the west side of the Caucasus Mountains,” Igre said, “But we can also pass the mountains on the other end, at Baku. We’ll resupply and refuel there. Then we’ll go to Astrakhan.”
“That can help with our fuel issue, but not food,” Gebhard said, “Anybody got ideas?”
Everybody looked at each other, but nobody could answer.
Harvest was months away. Gebhard looked out the window at the murky orange sky. Another round of nuclear winter was on its way. Hundreds of millions around the world would starve. The exiles, lacking many of the conveniences of modern society, would be hit hardest. Even if we find somewhere to stay, will we even make it through the next winter? Or even to the next winter?
---
Alexandra found Magnus in one of the military workshops, as usual. He was surrounded by a variety of machine parts. “Still at it?”
“Yeah.” Magnus held up what seemed like a mechanical arm. “I think I’m on the verge of a breakthrough here.”
“What do you mean?” Alexandra said.
“Theodor’s exosuit is still intact and usable,” Magnus said, “So I was thinking if I could recalibrate it, based on what I learned about each part’s functionality from the other two damaged exosuits, I could give Thea back some mobility.”
“What Thea needs most right now is rest,” Alexandra said, “August’s done his best to make her comfortable through the whole journey. She shouldn’t move unless necessary.”
“I know, but this way, she can help us out again,” Magnus said.
“Do you really think we should be putting a woman who by all means should still be in intensive care back to work?”
“It’s not my thought,” Magnus said, “Thea asked me herself.”
“She…wants to work?” Alexandra was confused.
“Yeah,” Magnus said, “Said a lot about being useless and unable to help out while Alex is in jail and we’re busting our butts keeping this whole group alive.”
Alexandra thought back to the days when they were in that lab in Damascus. When they were working on the first reactor, Thea had always taken charge in assigning work, but she took the most demanding work for herself. “She doesn’t like how this feels like special treatment.”
“Exactly,” Magnus said, “She always wanted to pull her weight. So she doesn’t take it well when we have to pull hers.”
“Still, it’s not good for her health,” Alexandra said, “She could botch her recovery.”
“I keep telling her that, but she won’t take no for an answer,” Magnus said.
“At least convince her to hold off on it for a little bit,” Alexandra said, “Until she’s in better condition.”
“I’ll try, but I make no guarantees,” Magnus said.
Ulm
Heinrich never thought he would end up in Ulm, of all places. But the old home of Einstein was the largest city in the Central District that survived the nukes which rained down across Jerusalem on June 22. Friendly local commanders told him they were fortunate enough to have one anti-aircraft missile battery on hand to shoot down the nuke that was supposed to have annihilated them. He would have preferred to set up his headquarters in Augsburg or Frankfurt, but Ulm would have to do. But here he was, sitting in the back of a car as it inched through the crowded streets, packed with panicked locals and refugees fleeing the nuked neighboring cities. Car horns and hundreds of voices mixed together, making it hard to compose thoughts. Today, he was on his way to meet potential allies in his war against Moria. Although many Crusader commanders rallied to his banner, there weren’t enough of them, and most of them were scattered across Europe. That meant that to gain the military strength and cohesion he needed to not be instantly crushed in central Europe, he had to reach out to…less ideal groups. Of those groups, only one was easily accessible from his current location, on account of them forcing their way into the city and entering a standoff with his men.
His car stopped in front of the local train station. “Are you sure, sir?” his driver asked. “We still haven’t verified the safety of the building as of—”
“I’ll be fine,” Heinrich said, “They know I’m their only hope of defeating Moria.”
"Do we really need to reach out to heretic scum? What do they bring that we don’t already have?”
“A new perspective on things,” Heinrich said, “I need something to counter Moria’s RSB expertise. Preferably something outside the system, free of his influence.”
“And you’ve turned to heretics?”
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
The driver immediately shut up. Heinrich got out and entered the station. At one of the platforms, a train sat idle. Rebel soldiers—identified by their plain civilian clothing—formed a perimeter around the doors. Some of the windows were rolled up, and Heinrich saw barrels of rifles poking out. He raised his arms.
“I am General Heinrich Dandolo, a Holy Regent,” he declared, “I come in peace.”
At that, several voices arose in opposition.
“How can you say that?!”
“Like you did at Bremerhaven?”
“Can you say that to the millions you just murdered?”
Heinrich bowed his head. It’s not going to be easy, walking this thin line. One wrong move, and I’d be shot. Either by these rebels or my own officers.
“I did not give that order,” he explained, “That was Moria.”
“Sure, tell yourself that.” A door slid open, and a woman walked out. Her face was familiar. Heinrich remembered it from old news stories, before.
“Colonel Frederica Eisenburg,” he said, “The astronaut?”
Frederica nodded, refusing to salute. “I’m surprised someone still remembers me. Especially one responsible for taking away my career.”
To that, Heinrich didn’t know how to reply. He decided to move on. “Are you the leader of this rebel faction?”
“Leader?” Frederica scoffed. “I suppose I’m the most known person in our group.”
“So do you speak for your faction?”
“Nobody objected. So here I am.”
Heinrich nodded. “Good enough for me.”
“Tell me, general,” Frederica said, “What does an all-powerful Regent need with a few dozen ragtag rebels? Surely you have entire armies ready to march on Berlin.”
“What I need from you, Colonel, is your ragtag rebels,” Heinrich said, “I may have thousands of Crusaders, but they’re drilled in conventional tactics that Moria knows. Furthermore, their Panopticons could be hacked, giving Moria remote control over my forces.”
“Wow, you must really be an idiot if you didn’t fix that fatal flaw.”
“I’ve done my best to patch it,” Heinrich said, “I’ve disconnected all Crusaders under my command from the main network. But this isn’t my generation. I barely know how they work. Which is why I need you to infiltrate Frankfurt and either capture or destroy the Panopticon servers located there. That way, my troops will be free.”
“Let me get this straight.” Frederica crossed her arms. “You want us, all several dozen of us, to sneak into an irradiated hellscape and capture or destroy a heavily guarded server that, I should remind you, we don’t even know is still intact after the nuking, just so your troops are free to follow your orders? What do we get out of this? For all I know, you could immediately cut us off once we served our purpose. I know you’ve done that before. I’ve heard the rumors about the late tyrant Kaiser.”
The late tyrant Kaiser… Heinrich froze when he heard those words. I failed to protect His Majesty. I failed to honor Kaiser Otto’s last wishes. They blame me, even though it was all Elias and Gertrude. I suppose I deserve it.
Frederica tapped her foot impatiently. “So? What’s in it for us? Why shouldn’t we just kill you right now? Then we’d have only one more Regent to take care of.”
“You need me alive,” Heinrich said, “If I die, my troops will go right back to Moria, and those who won’t will be crushed. Moria will take over this entire country and continue his mad reign. This is the man who nuked Constantinople just to kill the Ecumenical Patriarch and then nuked the entire country for no reason.”
“So he was responsible for Anatolios,” Frederica said.
Heinrich nodded. “I can tell you so much about the committee. Including what we did to the Hohenzollerns.”
“The only Hohenzollern I care about is Princess Wilhelmina, and she’s nowhere to be seen,” Frederica said.
They say no news is good news, right? She hasn’t shown up since the battle in Isfahan. I hope she’s fine. “My point is that I have valuable information I can give you. Not only that, but I have access. I can give you and whatever groups you’re working with access to the latest military hardware. Rifles, grenades, helicopters, tanks, you name it.” He was getting desperate at this point. They had only so much time before Moria figured out Theodor’s remote control mechanism, got past his technicians’ stopgap measures, and turned the entire army into his hive mind. “Please, Colonel Eisenburg. I’m not asking this as a Regent or even as a general. I’m begging for your help as a fellow human being who just wants this senseless chaos and slaughter to end.”
Frederica’s expression remained unchanged. “Imagine that, a goddamn Regent groveling before me. I never thought I’d see the day. You must be really desperate. Alright, then, I’ll accept your offer, on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I will be part of your planning process,” Frederica said, “As an equal, not your subordinate, despite my old rank. You will share all of your information with me and my group. If I suspect even a hint of betrayal incoming, I will not hesitate to shoot you on the sight. Do I make myself clear?”
Heinrich nodded. “Yes. I accept these terms.”
- 3
