Of course, Gideon said [i]survivors[/i] but essentially meant [i]POW's[/i]. He spoke Vangar, after all. The mist reactor of that ship likely ensured no real survivors on the site, but getting to the escape pod while the forest was burning was going to be dangerous work. At least WARDENS on site allowed for some degree of immediate firefighting. In peacetime, rescue was a function they performed. In wartime, it was shock troop activities and special operations. He couldn't imagine a civilian Vangar ship being out this far, it didn't add up, unless it was essentially something owned by the Vangar government. They might capture foreign nationals, but if they did such nationals would be detained anyway. Odds were, anyone they 'detained' would be Vangar government and that'd go right to Orestia.

Of course, they were also in peace negotiations, so proof of a Vangar incursion during a truce period was bound to be useful at the table. "Yeah, well we all figured we had a week off before the peace talks got rejected," he told Galahad, "So much for that idea." 

He pretty much expected a couple grunts from that fatalistic observation. It wasn't like they never had fun yanked out of them by seemingly-sadistic trainers who would tell them, [i]'shit happens, be ready for it when it does.'[/i] It was practically a sign over the Commandant's desk in the Citadel.

That statement he made wasn't the Royal "We," but Gideon was intelligent enough to read the situation without getting briefings from the intelligence services or diplomatic corps -- as he didn't -- or much in the way of shop talk from the rest of the family. He was, unlike the rest of the royal brood in his generation, in the Wardens, and not going to the Hegen University or one of the similar elite schools and learning economics and politics at that level. He was not sitting in some coffee shop on campus or clubbing away. His lot was to very obviously put on a uniform and carry a rifle. 

Trent asked him earlier if he knew the princess; the answer was basically [i]Hell no, you've seen me in the Citadel for ten years. I've been too busy to rub elbows with van Skymning delegations when they've come around to demand another Crystal for their folly.[/i] It was also basically a given that Gideon wasn't trained for diplomacy. He knew courtesies, but he also knew that he was a 'keep your mouth shut and let other people handle niceties' kind of guy. His grandmother, Catherine, often liked to say that he was a throwback to the old days of a feudal aristocracy. Trained killers from a young age, taught to wear armor and wield a sword. Times changed, but Gideon was a bit of an atavism. 

Sure, Fenris was military, and his father used to be prior to his crash, but they were air force, armor, trained in logistics, strategy, economics...essentially high command and political stuff. Gideon got some of that in his curriculum, but they weren't developing him to take over the big stuff. Lucian was Fenris' heir, and he was welcome to the headlines every time he took a piss in a bush somewhere.

The Vangars wanted to keep what they got out of Rassvet, and the Kingdom wasn't about to cede territory or peoople over to those wolves when it had an obligation to see to it that those lands and those people were accounted for, cared for and defended as they deserved. Giving them up like so many sacrificial pawns wasn't in the plan, even if it made a lot of sense and there were people that liked to act like the moral cowardice of it made good expedient sense. Gideon? Well, beneath his annoyance with the pomp of the Royal Family's press coverage, felt the deep and abiding belief that House Anbruch still existed because they made the right decisions for Rassvet, not the expedient ones. Other nations ground up their Crystals to develop power, Rassvet always undertook a policy of good stewardship with theirs. Now, of course, they were locked in a war, but it'd been predicted for some time. Fenris spent his entire life preparing for it, giving himself an ulcer over it. His father too. Now Gideon found himself, quite suddenly and a few weeks early, thrust into the family business.

There were concessions that Rassvet was willing to negotiate with the Vangar, but it came down to being unwilling to throw their Crystal over to the use of a bunch of idiots that demonstrated such irresponsibility that they'd use theirs up then go to massive war with everyone else to use all of those up too.

He kept eyes on the sky, watching for more airships and anything else...like parachutes. He wasn't sure what to make of the situation but if the 8th Fallschirmjager Division suddenly dropped and this was their LZ, he wouldn't be entirely shocked. No, that wasn't true. Where were the strategic goals? This was back country, it made no sense to be out here. You didn't send a ship out to hunting grounds when you could be taking bridges, disabling power supplies, overrunning airports and other vital strategic junctures. First task was to get to the pod Zimmy found. Second task was to see what else was laying around. Third task was to establish communications. 

[i]What the fuck was going on?[/i] was a big question burning in his mind. Another voice back there, more sarcastic and sounding like Uncle Fenris, was saying, [i]Welcome to war, Cherry, you never get the whole picture.[/i] That was how Fenris talked sometimes, too many years commanding the 1st Rassvet Guards Armored Division, soaking in the gung ho macho of the armored corps. Publicly, Fenris was a different guy, confident, reserved, ramrod straight. In private was a crusty guy, but he was right. They had to make decisions and hope things worked out. No luxury to sit there and figure out the perfect solution.

In any event, he started going over his inventory of equipment, because they were going in it, but he did have one thing to get off his chest, "You know, Country," Lee, "We're about to go in the shit and I gotta level with you..."

"You're wrong about Lily. She might have a jackal's laugh, and that's just your excuse for giving up before even trying, but she's got a sense of humor. Setzer was pick #2 and you were pick #1, you jackass. You wouldn't even have noticed the snoring after what she would have done to you if she'd gotten her hands on you. I don't know what is alluring about you in a lampshade and a sock, dancing on a table, but hey, that's taste."