TEP Chpt 8

=The Eagle's Perch=
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==Chapter 8 - What meets the eye==
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===Meeting and old stories===
Sardis, Free Worlds League
2731 AD
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Elijah Johanson Aquino
Despite the Civil War, there were many world-provinces within the Free Worlds League that were 'neutral' throughout the fighting. They continued on with their day, uncaring of the surrounding bloodshed. Taxes were collected and sent, business continued, and contracts were kept.
 
It was business as usual.
 
Sardis was one of those worlds, as a consequence it retained much of its beauty. As the third planet from its G-class sun with a slight tilt, it had many of the features that made Terra so perfect for human habitation. A temperate climate, lots of sea and freshwater, and lush vegetation were just a few of the most prominent features of the planet.
 
The continent of New Islamabad was settled by environmentalists from old Terra, they worked hard to integrate human development with the natural world. I could see it when I looked outside the ground car watching the low Hispanic style buildings pass by. They were painted to match the white sand coasts, accented by natural wood. Every so often, the colors would be interrupted by bright pastels of triangular flags highlighted by the afternoon sun, filtering through the Sardunian palm trees they hung upon.
 
It was as close as to perfect for the unity of man and nature.
 
The ride to New Damascus was mercifully short and peaceful, a result of its past as a nature tourism town. The ferrocrete roads were pristine, and the limo our smuggler acquired was fairly modern. The only disturbance was the sea breeze gently swaying the palm leaves.
Above all, everything was discrete. We used the old switched back roads leading from a little used terminal inside the provincial DropPort to the city's beachfront. The limo was acquired from a used vehicle dealer, it blended in with the rest of the New Damascus elite's neighborhood.
 
I sat at the back of the limo with my two allies, preparing ourselves for the meeting ahead. Another turn and we were at the castle-mansion. It was a relatively modest set of ten buildings, four stories high, spread across roughly two-thousand acres of land. Proudly displayed were large hanging banners showing a shooting star rising from a semicircle. Passed the front gates was the public gravel garden. Small cliques of New Damascus' ruling Oligarchy made small talk, before the meeting would begin.
 
I exited the limo last, and held out my hand to Chamberlain to shake hands. "Mr. Chamberlain, I thank you again for your contribution. Getting through Lyran customs would not have been possible without you."
 
After his father's assassination, Boris smuggled Abdullah Ottovordemgentschenfelde and I to the League's Anti-Spinward half to convince the world-provinces to join the rebel cause. I was thankful for my friend's faith in me. While different, this wouldn't be much worse than convincing the Hegemony of the merits of Boris' Wikipedia.
 
He shook his bald head and took my hand. "It's no issue, Mr. Aquino. The contract with Lord Humphreys was deeply treasured by my father and I," he said.
 
"And, with how this war is going, it will be something you and your children will treasure too!" Interjected Abdullah.
 
"Hah! Maybe I will," Chamberlain's mustache twitched, and his bushy brows furrowed with his laughter. "I'll see you later. Remember, be patient." The good man waved us goodbye as he reentered the ground car and left.
 
Abdullah was Boris' butler and most trusted. He was here as my bodyguard, but didn't hesitate to personally push any angle for Boris' cause.
 
Before, neutrality would have been a demonstration of a lack of commitment to the Free Worlds League. Now, with so many provinces joining the rebel cause, there was only one beneficiary from a province's continued neutrality: Elise Marik.
 
Thankfully, the narrative is against The Bitch. What should have been a quick war, quickly turned around into a stalemate. A stalemate where every passing day one more pissed off Lord would join the rebel cause. I don't know what the picture was like on the other side of the League, but here, time was an ally.
 
It was the work of patience and diplomacy to convince worlds to flip. And, when they flip, they don't flip back. Thanks, Elise.
 
Of course, having insiders also helped.
 
"And, there's our man," said Abdullah, pointing with his lips to a local baron. There, standing in a violent neon blue jacket and pink polka dot shoes, was our insider to Sardis. Baron Keith Shenandoah was classically tall, dark, and handsome. He was our insider thanks to Boris' contacts in the electronics industry.
 
"Gentlemen, I'm glad you could make it to my wedding anniversary," he said charmingly, as he approached us with a small smile. "Welcome to our celebration of Tu B'Av in New Damascus. And, to Sardis in general."
 
We shook hands, all smiles and polite welcomes. I noticed he had a small wood band around his wrist depicting a stylized wolf. A family crest, perhaps?
 
For all intents and purposes, we were just another group of invites to a wedding anniversary.
 
The distant ringing brass bells alerted us that it was time for the celebrations to begin.
 
Slowly we all filtered in, up the grand staircase, beneath the portico, and past the surprisingly small neo-art deco doors. The white chrome lines walls starkly contrasted with the white streaked black marquina marble floor. Directed by the servants, we went left past more sets of doors to an enclosed garden crisscrossed by bright acacia arcades.
 
As we approached the center open gazebo, a rabbi greeted us with open arms and book in hand. After every one of us greeted and shook hands with him, we began prayer. So began the day of joy and love, with a reading from תְּהִלִּים.
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After the prayers, we recessed for a light luncheon before the main party began. Abdullah and I mingled with the New Damascus nobility in the ballroom. The room was brightly lit and the white streaked black marble polished to perfection, accentuating the many colors and styles of the elites of New Damascus.
 
"The recent troubles have made business ever so dreary," I overheard a passing noble say. "It's made keeping contracts so much more difficult."
 
"You're not at risk of breaking contract, are you?" Inquired his associate cautiously.
 
"Heavens no! Why would you suggest such a heinous thing?" The man replied, aghast.
 
Everyone here was born from noble blood. From their breeding to their mannerisms, and to more unsavory aspects, they exemplified what it is to be part of the Neo-nobility. Everyone was born into the 'right' family, owned keystone businesses, and were part of the legislative, executive, or judicial body in the system's government.
 
Everyone here was important.
 
More importantly, everyone here was partially inclined to the rebel cause. Although, none were aware of me and Abdullah's true purpose. We approached a man dressed in a pink polka dot, braided white uniform, with peacock feathers as a cape. He was General Akira Pound, leader of the planetary militia.
 
He saw us approach, raised his glass slightly and gave a smile. "Gentlemen," he politely greeted us. "Enjoying the celebrations, I hope."
 
"We are, the baron has excellent taste." I shook their hands before introducing ourselves, "Good to meet you ladies and gentleman, I am Elijah Johnson Aquino and this is my associate Abdullah Ottovordemgentschenfelde."
 
I noted their carefully neutral faces while we greeted each other.
 
Gesturing to Abdullah, I continued, "We're representatives from Kali Yama, here to supervise the contract's finalization with the Baron." It was even true. We were here to deliver BattleMechs to Sardis' militia as part of Kali Yama's contracts.
 
That little bit immediately changed their demeanor. Everyone wanted an in with a BattleMech manufacturer, to get a chance at leapfrogging the fiercely competitive bidding for the Sphere's most important planetary weapon—Sardis especially.
 
"I hadn't realized Kali Yama had sent representatives. I am Akira Pound." He waved to the two women beside him. "These are Adaku Anaya and Annabelle Anne-Rose, my subordinates in Militia Command." They were all dressed similarly in the Sardis militia's formal uniform—with their interesting feathery capes and pink polka dot uniforms.
 
"Gentlemen, so wonderful to see you," warmly welcomed Adaku. "I heard that Kali Yama was sending some fine men, but didn't think you would arrive with the war on."
 
I spied Abdullah grabbing some wine from a passing waiter. "Well, you're not wrong that the recent troubles have given us a fair bit of trouble." I took a glass Abdullah offered me and took a sip. "Thankfully, we managed to slip by into the loyalist's eastern Jumpship line." Unsaid was that it was the only safe Jumpship line left in the Anti-Spinward half of the League.
 
"Sounds dangerous."
 
"It was," Abdullah confidently interjected. "But no self-respecting Leaguer allows hardship to prevent contract fulfillment. No matter how tenuous the lines of communication may be."
 
That got worried looks from our conversation partners.
 
I gave a tired sigh. "Indeed. Truth be told, Sardis is just one of our stops, on the way to the Marik Commonwealth. It's the only safe line left." Sardis was nestled between the Province of Gibson and the Marik Commonwealth. It was of strategic importance just for its position alone.
 
From the alarmed look of Akira, he understood the position Sardis was in. Whether he liked it or not, the war was coming for Sardis. And, crucially, Sardis was famous for fielding Divisions of conventional arms to support its small elite BattleMech forces.
 
"The BattleMechs the Baron contracted from you… what are they?" Asked Akira.
 
"I'm afraid that's between us and the Baron," I answered. "But, don't worry. You'll see them soon enough." Smiling at the end. He looked fairly miffed, and by the way his face fell, not at all reassured.
 
Ringing glass interrupted the General before he could speak.
 
With a spoon and glass of champagne in hand, Baron Shenandoah pulled the attention of the room towards him. "May I have your attention, please," he announced. The ballroom quieted, though I could see that Akira was approached by Annabelle and began tensely whispering to each other.
 
"Despite the recent trials and tribulations, Sardis has endured. Our contracts have been maintained, our businesses remain profitable, and we have managed to successfully lobby sensible policies and regulations in Parliament for the benefit of proper leadership. Though those ruffians in Ibarra have honorlessly taken advantage of the current circumstances, we still hold our particular advantage over them.
 
"The nobles of the realm have successfully steered the ship of state through the turbulent waters thus far. And, we all will continue to do so together. Which is why I propose a toast, a toast to our continued prosperity!"
 
Polite clapping followed the end of his speech, before we all toasted and drank our glasses. Scanning the room, I spied the General absconding away with another gentleman, whom I knew to be the mayor. We'll have to talk to him next.
 
"Let us begin the dance!" Keith shouted. A big band materialized on one of the larger balconies overlooking the ballroom, and began playing in earnest. It was a jaunty classical dance-pop tune that played to the guests' delight.
 
Abdullah tapped my shoulder to get my attention. "I believe this is when we part," he whispered, "I think you have this all well in hand."
 
"I do. Take care, Abdullah." I bid him goodbye as he discreetly stepped into the shadows of the ballroom, and left the party. He was right, as it is, I could handle this on my own. That meant we could move our timetable ahead and start canvassing the proles.
 
To better blend in, I took the opportunity to approach a woman in a red dress. "Excuse me madam, may I have this dance."
 
I danced for some time, changing my dancing partners as the songs changed. As I was leaning on the wall to rest my legs, the mayor approached me. He wore a classic three-piece black and white suit, distinctly different from the more colorful nobles around him.
 
"Had fun dancing?" he asked. The way he spoke was gruff, though mild. Instantly I understood he was not one of the nobles, but of common stock.
 
Quite surprising. Though we were briefed on Sardis' political situation, they were an Oligarchy, so the mayor of New Damascus was something of an enigma. He was elected into his position by popular vote, unusually archaic in this day and age. Traditionally, mayoral positions were appointed under advisement by a public body.
 
Beyond being elected into his position, very little was known about him outside what was publicly available.
 
"I did," I said nonchalantly. "How about you, sir, enjoying yourself."
 
He laughed softly before answering, "I haven't been able to dance in years since—" he tapped his legs, "—I got my legs messed up when my AA PPC Tiger took a hit, against some pirates near the Lyran border."
 
"I'm so sorry to hear that," I apologized. So that explains his connection with the General.
 
He uncaringly waved off my apology, "Don't worry about it. It's old news. Nowadays, I make my own fun telling old stories. And, listening to them too!" He turned and leaned against the same wall I was on. "If you don't mind, I'd love to tell you about some of them."
 
I smiled and raised my eyebrows. "I'd love to hear from an old veteran."
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===Strange Messages===
Sardis, Free Worlds League2731
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Unknown
DDVDX AXAFA GDGGD FDVGG ADAAG XGAFV FAFXF VAFDA GGADF XGXAA FAXGD GDAFF FFFAV GFFAA AXFVF AFAFA AVGGG ADDFA GADFF FFFFG GXDAF XGADA DFFAA VGF
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===Meeting of friends of the Club===
Sardis, Free Worlds League2731
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Abdullah Ottovordemgentschenfelde
Past the coastal palm trees and towards the highlands were thick forests filled with descendants from Terra's Mediterranean trees. A mistake during Sardis' early colonization effort created a near invasive local species of tree that grew like mushrooms and spread like wildfire.
 
The Rabbit Fig Tree was a squat, ugly thing, with brown leaves and shit colored, wrinkly teardrop shaped, seed filled fig fruit—derisively called the Sardis Scrotum. It was loved and hated in equal measure by the Sardunians, for its wood and fruit, and bountiful proliferation.
 
The Tree was nice to have, but not to manage or look at. It is why the wealthiest of Sardis avoided the highlands and preferred the coast. Of course, with all the wealthiest and most powerful huddling the coasts of Sardis, the 'commoners' were pushed away.
 
The highlands, the backwoods, the mountains, and the plains; the snow capped peaks, the humid waterlogged swamps; these were the places the ordinary people of Sardis called home. Far enough to be out of sight, but close enough to attend to the Oligarchy's needs.
 
In these neighborhoods, the locals built their homes out of ferrocrete and wood. Dark, earthy colors predominated the aesthetics of the local architecture. It was a stark contrast to the neoclassical white, chrome, and pastel, near the coast.
 
The local restaurants embraced this culture clash. Daring colors such as red and gold were used to add contrast to the drab ferrocrete, the dark woods of the decorations, furniture, and support. Incandescent lights and genuine candles gave a particular atmosphere when sat down to eat, it was both festive and oddly private.
 
I sat outside a local taquería, enjoying the cool air beneath the veranda and took a sip of red wine as I waited for my Master's indirect associates, contemplating the events that led to here.
 
Thirteen men and fourteen women in the restaurant. Roughly one hundred, varying ages, outside. Thirty cars, one bus. One man in red exiting a white truck.
 
When Boris Marik was a young boy, enjoying the hospitality of the Terran Hegemony, he threw himself into studying everything that made the Terran Hegemony the first among its peers. He had made no secret that he wanted to make the Free Worlds League more like the Hegemony.
 
It was a child's attempt to compensate for being exiled. Not the worst of things anyone could pursue. So his father and I approved of his studies, especially as it helped him excel in school.
 
He learned quite a bit of the early Terran Hegemony, and the Terran Alliance. Then he visited Terras North America and the Library of Congress. There he picked up a new obsession, pre-modern History.
 
A man, smartly dressed in red with high peaked shoulder pads, approached my seat. "As-salamu alaikum," he greeted me warmly, bowing at the waist.
 
One gun, holstered at his right flank. Obvious. Let me know.
 
"Wa alaykumu s-salam," I properly countered. I wasn't Muslim, but you can't be a Leaguer without picking proper greetings in a dozen different cultures.
 
He took a seat before me and made himself comfortable.
 
"My friends at the Club told me about you." he began, "I and my fellows, owe our mutual friend many thanks for helping us."
 
The 'Club' he spoke of was the John Locke Foundation. Master Boris' study of history exposed him to many ideas, and his slight eccentricity pushed him to remaking them for the modern age, in particular old ideologies like Liberalism and Freedom of Information.
 
It was rather unexpected that Bertram would also take interest and push its spread across the League. Though, in hindsight, it made sense, as both classical and Boris' 'Neo-Liberalism', were inherently hostile to autocratic governance that is the current norm.
 
"No, 'thanks' is necessary." I signaled for a waiter to come by for our orders. "My buddy just wants you lot to do well is all." I gave him an easy smile as I leaned back into my seat. The waiter came quickly, and we both ordered the Meat Lovers.
 
"He did more than help," he said, raising his voice. He gave the table a firm slap, and tapped it with his forefinger. "If it weren't for that young billy, we'd have bet on the wrong grav-ball teams. That would have been disastrous!" He leaned in, folding his arms, after his outburst. "So, thanks," he said quietly, "Thanks for coming through for us."
 
I mirrored his actions and gave him a proper smile. "Friend. Honestly, don't worry about it," I reassured him, before segueing into what I was really here for. "So how's your family, they doing alright?"
 
He grinned back at me, genuinely happy. "Ah, buddy. The family's been really happy since the baby boy came along. We were thinking of going out later to hunt some fowls to celebrate." Despite his wide smile, his eyes hardened, and his brow darkened. "Though, the clan head's brother is a bit of a party pooper. Won't let us have our fun."
 
"Well, that's terrible!" I replied, shocked.
 
"Oh yeah," he said, nodding, "What's worse is that he's a big gossip. You'd think a fatass electrician would know a thing or two about not yapping, but apparently I'm wrong…"
 
Shortly after that, we moved on to more mundane subjects like football, before the waiter returned with our meals. It was a pleasant afternoon, with good wine, good food, and good company.
 
Perhaps the most unexpected result of Boris' efforts was how useful they were. I never imagined I would be sitting across from an anti-autocrat, listening intently as they gave valuable information to win this Civil War.
 
Boris has that sort of luck, where things just line up.
===Pointing out the Obvious===
Sardis, Free Worlds League2731
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Elijah Johanson Aquino
The old man kept me distracted for some time before the end of the party. He had some interesting stories to tell about shooting down ASF. Aside from that, I got the impression that aside from his connection to the General, he wasn't anyone of note. He was just another vee pilot.
 
Afterward, I met Mr. Shenandoah at his office in the evening.
 
The office of Mr. Shenandoah was quite nice, it was lined with bookshelves, at the center was his office table, and behind was a large double door window with a grand view of his private beach. It was sparsely decorated, though there were some pictures of his family, his wife and three kids. No other pictures, however, so I couldn't glean any more information from him.
 
"So we're agreed, Mr. Aquino."
 
"Yes, Mr. Shenandoah. Your lasers, no locally made PPCs, in exchange for twelve Wolverines."
 
We shook hands. He had a firm grip. Confident.
 
Good. Whatever his reason for joining the rebel cause, I'm glad he's confident in his choice.
 
While it was disappointing, we couldn't get to utilize Sardis' PPC production, it was also understandable. PPCs were in hot demand everywhere. No ammo, relative ease of manufacture, long range, and hard hitting were all qualities that made PPCs the most sought after weapon system in the Sphere.
 
Nevertheless, Baron Shenandoah was the first among equals in Sardis' Oligarchy. With him, the rest would fall in line. So if we couldn't get to Sardis' PPCs today, there'll be opportunities later on.
 
After shaking his hands, I opened my mouth again to inquire about those PPCs, "There were some other items I would like to discuss—"
 
A deep boom sounded off not too far from here. I saw the palm leaves outside the window forcibly shaken by the sonic boom.
 
Immediately, a shrill alarm sounded throughout the room and the lockdown sequence began in earnest. Blast doors and shutters slammed shut, entombing us within.
 
Mr. Shenandoah opened his drawer and picked up a red phone. He talked to the receiver quickly and quietly, not at all concerned with what just happened. After a few seconds, he returned his attention to me.
 
"I'm afraid we're under attack, Mr. Aquino."
 
No shit.
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