Chapter 24
The Neutral Party
4th of Seventhmoon, MC 299 (6 Charles 9)
Valencia, Santafe, Democratic Republic of the Malvinas (North Malvina)
They had been in Valencia for three days now. No assassination attempts, thankfully, but not much progress either. The Vlatoskans, the Slanoans and the Gandohese all wanted to get things moving rather quickly. Even if they didn't have any firsthand experience dealing with Admiral Globus, they seemed to know that the longer things went on, the worse it would be for all of them. So why were the Malvinans dragging their feet?
Sir Armand, Root and Captain Tsai were summoned by President Bustamante. The fact that just the three of them were called on and the late hour indicated that this wasn't going to be a formal meeting where any headway was going to be made. Still, at least the President was going to speak with them. Maybe they could get the ball rolling.
The Presidio San Marco was originally a coastal fort built to fend off pirates that later became the presidential palace when the Malvinas split. It had been remodeled several times over the years, but you could still get some sense of its humble origins. The three of them were not taken to the President's office or one of the conference rooms but rather to a small parlor near the banquet hall. This was where the President would retire with select guests when official functions were winding down.
Waiting for them in the parlor was President Bustamante, his chief of staff and a couple men of the Presidential Guard posted at the far corners of the room. The President looked a good ten or fifteen years older than he was due to his hard-drinking and chain-smoking ways. He was balding with a bad combover, with deep-set spider-black eyes and seemingly permanent frown. His suit jacket was cut to make him look a little more presentable, even if it made his body appear to be shaped like a bell. He had a snifter of probably bourbon in one hand and a cigar in the other.
"Good evening," he said in reasonably good Franca. He nodded to the liquor cabinet. "Pour yourselves a drink. Whatever you like."
Sir Armand gave a slight bow and replied, "Thank you, SeƱor Presidente."
Root took it upon himself to play bartender, asking Sir Armand, "What would you like?"
Sir Armand tilted his head toward President Bustamante and said, "I'll have what he's having."
"Corona Aurea," the President said. "The '51."
Root decided he'd have the same. As he was pulling out the bottle, he asked Captain Tsai, "How about you, Frau KapitƤn?"
"Pick something you feel is appropriate, Colonel Maartens," Captain Tsai said.
He thought he would keep it simple and pour the same for everyone. He then distributed snifters to Sir Armand and Captain Tsai.
"If the Army doesn't work out for you, Colonel, you could always find work behind a bar," President Bustamante said. He raised his glass. "Salud."
"Salud," Root and Sir Armand said in reply as they raised their glasses, then took a sip. It had a bit of an acrid taste that lingered on the tongue.
President Bustamante took a drag on his cigar and after exhaling, he said, "I hope you realize the position I'm in. One wrong move and I find myself hanging off a meathook."
"We all face risks, SeƱor Presidente," Sir Armand said, "but the risk of inactionāor worse, taking the wrong actionācould mean the end of the entire nation."
"If we were to join this alliance, the damn SureƱos would side with the Coalition," President Bustamante said. "They would come at us from the south, and Verness from the north. The Antiguans would then probably come at us from the east through Saloma and the chinos would attack from the west, by sea, over land through Soochian, or both. We say a fool fights a two-front war and a madman fights a three-front war. What would you call the man who fights a four-front war?"
"You are not alone, SeƱor Presidente," Sir Armand said. "We will be putting pressure on your neighbors to the north and we can engage the Antiguans from our own holdings in Saloma as well. The Tungese already have their hands full with Gandoh and Slanoa and would be fools to open up a new front."
President Bustamante exhaled some smoke through his nostrils and replied, "All well and good, but what of the SureƱos?"
"The South has not yet declared itself for the Coalition," Sir Armand said. "I realize the two Malvinas have been at odds for a long time, but perhaps they will realize that this is bigger than your long-held grudge."
"You mean to go to Arturo next?" the President asked.
"That is the plan, yes."
"If the SureƱos join you, then we would have to join the Coalition."
Root would have called him a damned fool for that, but Sir Armand was forever the diplomat.
"SeƱor Presidente, you do realize that there probably will not be a North or a South Malvina once this is over, don't you?"
"In which case, perhaps the best choice is to stay out of this fight entirely," President Bustamante said.
"Pardon me for saying so, SeƱor Presidente, but there can be no neutrality in this fight," Sir Armand said. "Not picking a side will be seen the same as siding with the rebels."
"Surely Oberst Clemenza has told you the same," Captain Tsai said. "The Lord Admiral has graciously extended you the opportunity to prove your loyalty. You do not want to be found lacking in the final tally."
Although the President was a career soldier before transitioning into politics, he didn't seem to have the sort of resolve you would expect from someone of his background. Of course, not all soldiers were gung-ho blood and glory types either.
"But the cost..." he muttered.
"We stand to lose everything, SeƱor Presidente," Sir Armand said. "Whatever cost we must pay now, it pales in comparison to the alternative."
He didn't seem to be listening and kept mumbling to himself.
"The SoreƱos..."
Using a velvet touch, Sir Armand tried to be quietly encouraging, telling the President, "Perhaps the South will see that there is more at stake than your rivalry."
President Bustamante snorted at this.
"You clearly have never had to deal with the SoreƱos, Sir Armand."
"I have to try," Sir Armand said. "It is the mission that has been given to me by my King. The sooner we end this war, the sooner the people's suffering will end. As our alliance grows, people will turn from the Coalition. This nation could be the pivot that tilts the balance."
You could see it in the shift in how the President carried himself that these words moved him, but it didn't take long for that sentiment to fade. His shoulders slumped a little as the moment passed and all he said was, "It's not a decision I can make on my own."
"But you can encourage the voices that would agree with you," Sir Armand said. "Think of what a strong stand on your part would mean. No one wants to be the loser here. No one wants to be left standing alone. As the leader of this nation, it is up to you to set the example, to give people the courage to do what must be done for their survival."
The President shook his head.
"I would hate to meet a man like you on the campaign trail," he said. "For the sake of all the career politicians in your country, I hope you never grow dissatisfied with the Civil Service."
He then took a drink and said, "I cannot make any promises."
"I know there are limits to what you can do, SeƱor Presidente," Sir Armand said. "All I ask is that you think of the good of your people and encourage your fellow decision-makers to do the same."
"I will do what I can," the President said. "Now, if you will excuse me..." He motioned with his glass. "Please take your time and finish your drinks. I will send someone to escort you back to your rooms later."
"Thank you, SeƱor Presidente," Sir Armand replied with a slight bow.
President Bustamante set down his empty snifter on the liquor cabinet and then walked out of the parlor with his chief of staff and the two Presidential Guards following after. Once they were gone, Sir Armand took a slow sip of his drink and tapped his ear, indicating that he expected they were being listened to. Root would have been more surprised if they weren't listening in.
"What do you think, Colonel?" Sir Armand asked.
"I think they'd like to ride this out without putting their asses on the line," Root replied
"It would be a short war if only the people who wanted to fight were the ones fighting."
"Most wars'd be short that way, but that's not how it works and they know they can't sit this one out. Or at least they should."
"You have read Oberst Clemenza's reports," Captain Tsai said. "You have his assessment of the situation."
"Your people have had bad readings before, Frau KapitƤn," Root said. "Just look at what happened to the poor bastard you sent to the Pallies."
"It can happen," Captain Tsai said blandly. "It is one of the risks of liaison duty."
Root looked at her for a moment, then said, "This wouldn't happen to be punishment, would it?"
Captain Tsai puffed up a little, insisting, "It is an honor, Colonel. We are guiding the peoples of the Lost Worlds back into the loving embrace of the Father of All Humanity. It is one of the great missions of the Political Officer Corps."
Root sipped on his drink, wondering if Captain Tsai was a true believer or just so well-practiced that you couldn't tell the difference. He supposed if you couldn't tell, it didn't much matter.
"The Malvinans will determine the southern theater," Sir Armand said. "There may be consequences later if they try to remain neutral, but so long as they aren't joining the enemy's ranks, it won't be making our work any more difficult."
"It won't make it much easier either," Root countered. "Doesn't Intel say that Verness is keeping at least half of its forces in reserve expecting North Malvina to make a move on them? If they didn't think they needed to worry about the south, how many more troops would they be willing to throw at us?"
"Military strategy is outside my area of expertise, Colonel," Sir Armand said. "Yours, too."
Root shrugged and there was a moment of silence among them before the door opened and a valet stepped into the parlor.
"SeƱora, seƱores, I have come to take you to your transportation."
"I suppose they have heard enough," Sir Armand said under his breath.
Root drained his glass and then took the glasses from Sir Armand and Captain Tsai and placed them along with the one President Bustamante left behind.
It really didn't feel like they had accomplished much, but it wasn't like they could expect to make big strides every day. They got a free drink and maybe they managed to nudge President Bustamante in the right direction. Maybe that would be enough.