Year 248 P.L. Rychter Calendar
Coordinates: 15.4°N; 29.8°E
Site Designation: Rubicon (City of)

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Rubicon's Commissariat chamber rang with the thunder of voices.

An immense, hollowed out cube, the chamber was made up of tiered ranks of crisp, white-stone seating filled by two-hundred of the capital's ministers. Senior military officers, government ministers, district liaison officers and city militia commanders formed the visible guiding hand of Rubicon – outwith Lando and the Planetary Affairs Sub-Committee.

Right now, the place was full, and his head hurt from the volume. Reports of the near miss in the Scraegan badlands had not taken long to make their way north. Angry voices shouted the loudest.

The Scraegans are attacking humans again.

All bets are off.

Being honest with himself, Lanto wasn't totally sure they were wrong. As indignant speeches poured from the most irate of the Commissariat members, he rolled the incident over in his mind.

He'd reviewed the battle-cam footage that Brekka's commissariat had reluctantly shared dozens of times before walking in here, and still wasn't quite sure what to make of it. All he could say for certain was that they all owed one Lieutenant Brackenshaw an expensive drink for not kick-starting the war all over again.

Frustration gnawed at him. Lanto's mind wouldn't stay away from the Crawlers, and all the unanswered questions around them. He did not want to see humanity hurl all its weight into another conflict until he had more information. Until this incident he'd been reasonably confident of getting the funding he needed from Xanthus to pursue that line of enquiry.

Now? Now that idiot Nastassos would be pushing for every solitary aqua to be allocated to military spending, and he'd have plenty of support to do it.

His eyes flashed up as a liaison officer from Rubicon's southern delta district rose, a brawny woman with dark skin and a short tangle of braided hair. He recognised her dimly. He also knew that her district had provided a large portion of troops for the first expeditionary force. Many of them had not come home.

"Comrades," she began, her voice fierce as the rapids. "With respect, I do not understand what is so complicated about this. The Scraegans have fired first. Their intentions are clear. We might have avoided all out war, this time, but it's coming, whether we want it or not."

A chorus of cheers went up in support of her words. Lanto frowned; sipped his water.

"In Rubicon we lead by example," the officer thundered, her eyes blazing as she glared around the room. "If we don't bring the hammer down on the Scraegans, who will? Do we leave it to Brekka? They've proved they do not have the resources to eradicate this threat, and they are not going to invite anyone." She slammed a fist down on the lectern in front of her seat. "We must mobilise, and do it now. I will not see the lives my district sacrificed disrespected while we sit and wait. If we are to be ready when the next Scraegan attack comes, it starts today."

She sat down again, to a storm of applause. Lanto sighed, knowing that his dwindling faction of cooler heads would never have the numbers to carry the commissariat. More frustratingly, he couldn't even be sure he was right. No-one in this room had enough information to make that judgement.

Is this what getting old feels like, he wondered absently as more speeches tore through the auditorium. Indecision? Not willing to take a single step without perfect knowledge of what you'll land on?

In younger days he would have been heading the pack of warmongers. Maybe he was being overcautious.

A bitterness stuck in his throat, his brows drawing into a scowl as Nastassos rose his hulking body up to speak, dripping with satisfaction.

Someone needed to be the voice of caution to counterbalance bloody-minded savages like that. Lanto didn't really listen to the man's speech – he'd heard enough in their private chambers. He didn't really listen to much else for the next hour, embroiled in his own thoughts until it came time to vote on a preliminary motion.

It called for an immediate shift of Rubicon's forces to war-footing, prepared to deploy, and a readying of the local conscription offices. It would be a precursor to sending that same message out the nearby cities that would follow the lead of the capital without a thought. Then they would gather critical mass and drag the might of the north to bear on the Scraegans, whether Lanto wanted it or not.

He voted against it, that small act of defiance at least letting him feel a petulant sense of rebellion, but it was little more than a bureaucratic temper-tantrum. Three quarters of the commissariat backed the motion, and he stomped out of the chamber seething at how, despite his position, he could still find himself completely powerless.

Lanto sought out Minister Xanthus in her official office in the upper floors of the Commissariat, hoping to plead his case, but to his fury he found that Nastassos and one of the other ministers of their group – Jungaat – had already beaten him here.

Too late to stop now.

Straight-backed, he marched in, pointedly ignoring Nastassos but sparing Jungaat the courtesy of a nod. Then his gaze turned on Xanthus. She smiled ruefully as he approached her bulky stone table of office, leaning back in her high-backed chair.

"Minister Numitor," she said, her voice level as she inclined her head to him. "What brings you here? I have a lot to sort out after the vote."

"I'm aware," he replied. "But I sought to clarify what effect this may have – if any – on what we discussed at the Planetary Affairs Sub-Committee." Habit made him tack on the meaningless moniker, just in case someone with prying ears might be nearby.

Xanthus's face pinched with discomfort. Nastassos' lit up with smugness and Lanto felt his heart sink.

"I believe," he began, still willing to try. "That the funds should still be allocated. We do not know the full ramifications of the incident with the Scraegans. So far no other reports of hostilities have reached us."

"Yet," Nastassos grunted.

"Let him speak his peace," Jungaat said, though he sounded weary of the debate already, sinking down into one of the nearby seats. Nastassos snorted but didn't persist.

"We cannot narrow our focus," Lanto continued. "The Crawlers, and where they came from, still matter."

"No-one is saying they don't," Xanthus told him. "But you saw it in there." She gestured to the door. "The city's ready for a fight. They don't want to risk letting the Scraegans build up until it is too late to contain them. It is not a point without merit."

"I understand that as well as anyone else. But I could allow a twenty-percent cut to the allocated funding and still have enough begin work on the observatory."

"No." She shook her head. "I can spare you thirty-percent of what you asked for. That is enough for a dedicated Commissariat Committee under your command."

"Without the rest of the funds it's a committee doing busy work in the archives."

"Start there, and maybe you can find something that will convince me. Right now I have to deal with what's in front of me, which is looking very much like a war."

"But-,"

"I'm sorry, Lanto," Xanthus said firmly, though she at least sounded like she meant it. "I understand your position, but at present I cannot justify it, neither politically, nor practically." She shook her head. "If this does restart the war, what would the people think if we were hurling resources into the void looking for Lords-only-know what?"

"Frankly, I don't care what the people think," Lanto replied acidly, composure slipping at last as his eyes snapped angrily to Nastassos. "We have information that they do not."

"And if we are heading for a war again?" Nastassos growled, stared back at him. "Are you going to stand there and look me in the eye, and tell me you truly believe this peace will last?"

For a moment he didn't answer. The truth burned on his tongue and he didn't want to let it out.

"Well, Minister?" Xanthus asked.

He simmered, feeling a twinge behind his eyes as he looked at her. "I suppose not."

"Then we understand each other." She sighed and gestured to the door. "If and when the opportunity arises, I will have your proposal close by. Until then, I'm afraid our hands are tied. You are dismissed, Minister."

And he found himself walking away, his hopes trodden underfoot.

*

Lanto examined the report again, his lips pressing into a thin line at the picture it painted. He lifted the glass of water mechanically, sipping at regular intervals but never taking his eyes from the data slate. Beyond the window of his office in the commissariat chambers, the twin suns of Rychter were starting to dip below the horizon.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to leave. Too many plans. Too many ideas still to set in motion, no matter what Xanthus, Nastassos, or anyone else thought.

Footsteps dragged his attention from the data slate at last. He looked up to find Aurelia entering the room, looking maddeningly fresh despite having been on duty all day.

"Sir." She saluted. "You asked for me?"

"Yes." He put the data slate and glass down on the window sill and breathed deep. "You're aware of the vote in the commissariat today?"

"Yes."

"And what do you think?"

Her lips twitched with discomfort. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Always, Lieutenant. If I've turned into a cowardly old fool, I'd rather you told me now."

"Everflowing, no, sir!" she blurted. "I just... I understand the urgency. If the Scraegans are going to war – if they are building up a fresh army – we can't sit and do nothing."

"Some very sizeable 'ifs' wrapped up there, Lieutenant."

"I'm aware, sir."

"Worst part of it is, you're not even wrong."

"Nor are you, sir," she told him earnestly. "It's a difficult situation. I don't believe there's an easy answer."

"By the River, maybe you should be in those damned chambers." He sighed, his gaze wandering out over the vista of Rubicon again. "Aurelia?" he said quietly, dispensing with her rank.

A flash of surprise crossed her face at the breach of etiquette, but she gathered herself quickly. Stepping forward, she stood to attention. "Sir?"

"I have a job for you."

"Yes, sir." She nodded.

"It's not one you're going to enjoy, I'm afraid."

Aurelia smirked. "It wouldn't be work, otherwise, would it?"

"Quite." Lando smiled back. He walking slowly over to his large, stone-carved drinks cabinet carved into the office wall. "Tell me, Lieutenant, how do you feel about a trip south?"

"South?" She seemed to consider that, before shrugging. "A little hotter than I like, but I've heard the wildlife's quite something."

He managed a chuckle at that. "So I've been told." By the Everflowing he wished he could sustain the levity, but it just slithered away from him like smoke. Lanto turned away from her briefly, reaching into the cabinet and extracting a large bottle of golden, hell-smoked whisky. Twenty years old, brewed in one of Rubicon's first distilleries, it kicked harder than a tank cannon. A measure of it was probably worth more than Aurelia's monthly salary.

He poured two glasses and handed her one. "I need you to go Brekka." Lanto raised his glass to her and took a tiny sip. The whisky roiled down his throat like a dragon, and he revelled in the sensation. Aurelia gave him a nod of thanks and took a drink of her own. He saw her blink at the spirit's potency.

"Sir," she began, before clearing her throat. "Sir, what do we need from Brekka?"

"Information." He began pacing, unable to stop himself. "I can't make decisions based on what their commissariat may or may not share with us. There's too much distrust there after what happened with the expeditionary force. We overruled them, and they won't soon forget it."

"A necessary measure, sir," Aurelia offered.

"At the time, yes. But now?" Lanto shook his head grimly. "Now this is just knee jerk politics. I need someone there, someone I can trust to relay everything. The truth, with every ugly blemish intact. I need to know if the Scraegans really are trying to start another war, or if there's something more going on here."

"I understand." She took another sip; closed her eyes for a moment as she savoured it. Then she looked him in the eye. "They'll need an explanation though. Without using your rank I'll never gain any kind of meaningful access, but as soon as I use it, they'll know Rubicon is meddling."

"You can make it clear that I'm not doing this on commissariat orders." Lanto stopped pacing and faced her. "I can't risk direct communications myself, but I still have friends in Brekka. I've sent a message ahead. Find Minister Yanfoukis – she will assist you with any clearance you might need, within reason. Report back anything and everything you can find, directly to me. And start with Brackenshaw – the lieutenant whose patrol was attacked. I've seen the cam footage and I've read this report a thousand times, but I want to know what she saw. What she felt."

"Yes, sir. When do I leave?"

"First light." He smiled wryly. "I apologise, but this is of the utmost urgency."

Aurelia pulled a resigned face. "What about you, sir?"

"I'll just have to manage without you for a little while."

"I meant, what will you be doing?"

"Me?" Lanto couldn't keep the mischief out of his voice. "I'm afraid I'm going to be causing trouble."