Member
Not a Sayan
redrootssssOASIS-3 Colony - Aftereffects:
As the Chancellor had guessed, it didn’t take long for refugees’ arrival to generate a response - and what a response it was. The news that a bunch of refugees had come in was not news; the political atmosphere in and around Jupiter was rife with political volatility and raiders. In fact, a couple of Chancellor Lantheil’s political opponents had campaigned on an anti-immigration, isolationist platform to prevent the colony’s precious resources from being overburdened by “freeloading outsiders”.
The news that these were refugees from the Jovian Empire, by contrast, caused much bigger waves. While some were leery of antagonising the Empire, the lurid rumors of horrid mistreatment ran wild, causing shocked responses among many while confirming the suspicions of some others. Though Jerome suspected that if they knew half of what he did, it would cause much more bewildered or hostile responses.
The intelligence apparatus had to fish through an ocean of documents, but what they had uncovered was extremely disturbing. Experimentation on humans, both social undesirables and even purchasing kidnapped victims from pirates, heavy testing on the so-called Newtype factor, and only stars above know what else. Witness testimonies - including one from a boy who had come all the way from Earth! - were backed up by stolen data and discretely recorded files by rebels who raided the facility and a couple of the facility guards who helped the prisoners escape.
And that was just the tip of the iceberg. The information was akin to finding that you had a sleeping dragon on your doorstep, one about to unleash hell on the rest of the star system. The Jovian Empire wasn’t just engaging in unethical experiments; it was building a literal army. Weapons factories operated by forced labor or “tribute” labor, building an army of mobile suits piloted by Newtype child soldiers, marshalling a mighty war machine… even if the purpose was unknown, the mere idea it exists filled him with dread.
The Earth boy was allowed to rejoin the rest of the refugees pretty quickly once medical crews were done with him, with his Jovian companion/bodyguard joining him a bit later once he answered security’s questions. Though Lantheil couldn’t blame his intel officers from wanting a closer eye on the former Empire soldiers, even if they were now defectors.
Mr. Rajeesh Huerta, Secretary of State of OASIS-3, gives a long, exhausted sigh after he pored over the documents before him. With him were Dr. Erika Hendriksen, Chancellor Jerome Lantheil, and Chief of Defense Colonel Trent Sturmm. They had been going over the files for the past hour now, torn between mild horror at the contents, dreading what else is in there, and anxious about the storm it could raise when it inevitably gets out.
“You know how to stir up one hell of a hornets’ nest, Jerry,” Huerta groans, looking way too slender for his formal suit. “If I were Empire, I’d try my hardest to keep this from getting out, and I bet they’re plenty pissed about what already leaked.”
“Sorry, Rajeesh,” Lantheil replies with a sad smile. “It fell into our lap, and we just had to know what we got ourselves into.”
“A lot, apparently,” came the quick reply. Huerta straightens his tie, his thin, dark fingers fidgeting over the knot. “So what should I tell the Jovian Empire’s representatives while we figure out what to do with the refugees?”
“We give them the truth,” Erika replies bluntly. “They arrived seeking asylum, cited the appropriate Mallet City Accord sections about refugee and asylum rights, and we provided them with safe harbor, food, and medical treatment.”
“They’ll ask for their refugees back,” Huerta points out. “I certainly wouldn’t want my dirty laundry to be publicly aired like this.”
“Right now,” Sturmm said in his rumbling baritone, a wry grin on his African features, “they don’t have a leg to stand on. There are of course deserters and former guards who turned on their comrades, but that falls under seeking asylum. The onus of proof, that these refugees are actually fugitives from the law, is on the Empire. We’re not going to hand them over without good evidence.”
“The biggest concern is they choose not to play by the rules,” the Chancellor muses cautiously.
“Well, we currently have good standing among our neighbors and allies,” Rajeesh points out. “While the Empire has threatened to take the refugees back by force, we still have some strings to pull and some influence we could use to make them hesitate.”
“Well, I certainly hope so,” Jerome replies with a sigh.
Before anyone else could add anything, the comm beeps, startling those present. Jerome taps the button.
“Chancellor Jerome Lantheil’s office,” he says curtly.
“Sir, there’s a Mr. William J. Wentworth to see you, sir? Says he’s got an appointment…”
“Well, the Empire certainly got their fat little snake slithering here in a hurry,” Erika mutters, a hint of venom in her voice.
“I’ll handle this,” the Chancellor assures everyone. “In the meantime, we’ll follow the rules regarding the refugees; shelter and care for them, while we figure out whether to keep them here for asylum or arrange a more secure sanctuary if need be. As for the information, we have to pass it on. Cat’s out of the bag; the Empire is moving towards a war footing and we need to contact our allies and contacts to try and create a counterweight to the Empire. It’ll be a tall order, but we need to draw our network of alliances closer before it’s too late.
“And call it a hunch, but we have to find a way to contact the other powers in the system. Not just Jupiter, but Mars, Earth, and even Venus. Something tells me our problem is going to become their problem very quickly…”
The Honorable William “Bill” J. Wentworth, a portly man with a distinguished air, clean shaven appearance and receding hairline, was seated comfortably in the synth-leader armchair, smoking a Fumarillo artificial cigar. It’s surprising how smoking was associated with luxury and wealth, even in an extraplanetary scenario. Even when limited oxygen and lack of space to grow luxury crops like tobacco, the affluent would always find ways to indulge their habits. Bill was certainly wealthy and well-connected, particularly as the chief attorney and mouthpiece for the very rich and influential Zeus Energy Corporation, a Jovian sphere megacorp focusing on extracting heavy hydrogen and He3 as well as building high-grade fusion reactors. Seated opposite him was Chancellor Jerome Lantheil, trying to keep a friendly and professional poker face.
“Forgive me for the sudden visit, Chancellor,” Wentworth says in a jovial tone. “I was in the neighborhood and had to drop in. Business, really. Boring thing, to be honest.”
“No worries, Mr. Wentworth,” Jerome reassures him. “Just glad to see you in good health.”
“Thank you kindly, my good man,” Bill replies warmly, waving his Fumarillo. “Still, I must beg your forgiveness, as I mustn’t beat around the bush…”
“It’s about the refugees, isn’t it?” Jerome replies coolly.
“That’s what they call themselves, yes,” Bill replies cagily. “I’m so sorry you believed the… misinformation they’ve been using as a sob story.”
“What do you mean, Bill?”
“Well, for one thing, they’re a bunch of prisoners, raiders, and deserters. And very good liars to boot. Some of these so-called refugees are just spies and other criminals, who have managed to subvert some of the facility staff into deserting their posts and aiding them. This so-called Jupiter Liberation Front… well, you should know better than to trust them.”
“And everyone on that ship are either criminals or deserters?” Jerome says, his tone less than convinced.
“Oh, no doubt they managed to shanghai some unfortunate civilians and force them into obedience. Might have even confused and gaslit them; Stockholm syndrome, terrible thing, really.”
“Some of them were sporting surgical scars and signs of medical experimentation.”
“Oh, I can certainly believe that,” Bill replies with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Among the deserters are a couple with medical training. But don’t let it fool you; it’s all an elaborate ruse, and these are dangerous individuals spouting dangerous lies, meant to besmirch the reputation of many of our closest allies and trading partners.”
“So these partners and allies, they’d be willing to give their side of the story?”
“I have it on good authority that they’re sending it while we speak,” Bill replies reassuringly, but then his expression shifts. “Listen to me, Jerry, we’ve known each other for a long time, am I right?”
“You’re correct, Bill.”
“Look, I’m just trying to help you here. This ragtag bunch of outlaws and nobodies aren’t worth your time. Why are you taking them in?”
“It’s something called basic human decency,” comes the reply. “They were traveling through space in a rickety ship, requiring aid, shelter, and food. As a law-abiding nation, we follow the Mallet City Accords when it comes to handling refugees and asylum-seekers. And if we don’t follow the law, who will?
“Furthermore,” he says, cutting off Bill’s objection, “these people have not shown any hostility or possibility of being a threat. In fact, they’ve been surprisingly cooperative, and are not trying to cause trouble.”
“I’m sure,” Wentworth replied acidly. “All the same, I wouldn’t trust them. These ruffians are completely untrustworthy, and they and their associates are guilty of assorted acts of grand larceny, terrorism, and vandalism against respected institutions and even civilian colonies. You should be more concerned about them. As I said, this… so-called ‘Jupiter Liberation Front’ is a den of pirates, vandals, terrorists and Marxists out to tear down everything we believe in. They’re classified as a security threat throughout most of Jovian space, and have outstanding warrants for their arrests.”
“Should any of them be wanted people, we will work with the authorities for them to be extradited,” Jerome replies. “However, everyone on board the ship is in the clear. And no, deserters still qualify for asylum requests - unless of course there were reprehensible actions they had committed under their prior leadership.”
Wentworth, understanding that he is getting nowhere, gets up from his chair with a dark glower.
“Mr. Chancellor,” he says, the joviality and friendliness gone from his voice, “what are you trying to do here? What is this hill that you’re preparing to die on?!”
“I am following the letter of the law, and expressing my nation’s independence,” Jerome replies sharply. “We will not do something through coercion. For a lawyer, you seem to be unfamiliar with the rule of law. Maybe you’ve been hanging with the wrong crowd.”
“Such bravado,” Wentworth comments with a sneer. “You think it’ll be enough? A storm is coming, Chancellor, and you’d be better served knowing to help us, or stay out of the way.”
With that he turns around and leaves in a huff. Lantheil wonders if this could have been handled better, but it was clear; the Empire was going to war, and the results would not be good for anyone.
Half an hour later, the Chancellor discusses the meeting with Secretary Huerta and Colonel Sturmm.
“And that was the ‘silk glove’?” Huerta asks in disbelief. “The jackboots are coming up, and I doubt they’ll be bringing any lube.”
“Sadly no,” Jerome sighs. “Looks like we’re going to have to assume the worst and prepare. Rajeesh, I want you to work with our associated cartels* and allied corporations. We need to find out if we could put some pressure back on the Empire. I doubt it’ll work forever, but we need to buy ourselves time.
“Also, get in touch with Erika and see if we can’t find a pretext to accelerate arms purchases and military training. We need an excuse to expand our self defense forces if needs be; I doubt the thugs in the Empire are going to let political niceties hold them back for long.”
“I doubt the rest of the Jovian sphere can hold back the Empire for long,” Sturmm comments.
“True, which is why I think we should open communication channels with Mars and Earth,” the Chancellor replies. “I don’t want to be a narc, and I doubt we’ll get reinforcements that quickly, but we need a way for the information to get out should things get worse. We can’t exactly hail them, and even with light-fast communications, it’ll take hours to arrive, assuming it arrives in one piece.”
“You want to send a courier?” Sturmm asks in mild surprise.
“To improve relations and open communication channels,” Lantheil answers. “We might need outside help if the Jovian Empire decides to step out of the Jupiter sphere and take its aggression elsewhere.”
“Will try to keep that option open,” Huerta muses.
Jerome lays back in his chair, giving a deep sigh.
“One giant mess of a situation, isn’t it?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “I need a break.”
“We all do, boss-man,” Huerta chuckles bitterly. “Doubt we’ll get one anytime soon, though.”
Jerome looks at his watch.
“Oh, crap, forgot about Saran’s charity drive!” he exclaims, getting up and straightening his suit. “I have to go check on her.”
He turns to a nearby aide.
“Where’s she holding her charity drive tonight?” he inquires.
“Actually,” the aid replies meekly, “she had a change of plans. She’s engaging in direct charity action… and she’s helping distribute food to the refugees. You know, the ones this whole mess is over?”
Jerome sighs again.
“Well, she’s always been a strong-minded child,” he muses. “She does have a security escort, at least?”
“Yes, she does, sir,” comes the timid reassurance.
In the temporary bunks for the refugees, it was time for lunch. Aid workers were distributing the soup and hot food to the hungry asylum seekers. One of them, a tall, beautiful slender young woman with long flowing pink hair and bright blue eyes, approached Kazuki and Daniel with trays of steaming food. Alongside her were two men who were similarly dressed as aid workers, but not quite as adept at the work, and more taking a look around.
Kazuki would find the young woman’s escorts as odd, but Daniel’s experienced eyes immediately peg them for what they really are; bodyguard detail. It’s clear that whoever this pink-haired young woman is, she’s quite the VIP here.
The woman distributes the food to the people next to Daniel and Kazuki before moving on to them, laying down hot food on the table. The other two keep a bit behind her, ready to act in case of emergency.
“Hello there,” she says sweetly. “My name’s Saran, what’s yours?”
TL;DR:
To Empire: "We're following the rules here. Unless there's something you're not telling us about these 'terrorists'?"
To JLF: "We're trying to help, we just need a bit of support because the Empire's going to come in mad."
To: Allies & Acquaintances: "So how soon can we form a viable anti-Empire bloc? If it's even viable."
Also, Saran meets Kazuki and Daniel
@Letter Bee @JokerJusticar
* - cartels in the more traditional dictionary meaning, not drug lords. Think more like OPEC.
