Chapter 38: Loose Ends
Bayyah Radeyah* recording station, The Old City
Deklah sighed and stubbed out his cigarette as the recording light began to glow bright red. He had never been one for speaking, since the day he'd fled the slums his most valuable trait had been his size and his fists, yet here he was. He wondered briefly if Sahbrain would actually keep her promise or if he had been manipulated by yet another callous player who wanted to use him as a pawn.
'Too late for second thoughts now' he mused grimly
'To the menials of Astragon, to my brothers and sisters in the civil militia, My name is Jannah Deklah and I am speaking to you in the hopes that I can convince you to lay down your arms and save yourselves' he said trying to keep his voice calm and steady
His anxiety rose with each word, his voice felt clunky, crude and lacking in emotion and yet he had to keep speaking, this was the only way he could reach out to the countless menials in the militia.
'I have served Murza for two decades, I have done things I am not proud of and I have committed reprehensible acts on the admiral's behalf. I did what I did because Murza promised me a world where menials like myself would be free from neglect, violence, and cruelty. I did what I did because I believed him when he said he would make us free' Another pause as he struggled for breath
'But Murza has not given us freedom, just servitude by another name, he has armed us and sent us out to fight Kaiderin, he drafts us and orders us to die for the promise of freedom. I can no longer tolerate his deception, there was a time when I would have died for Murza but there comes a point at which loyalty without logic becomes untenable, I am begging all civil militia forces to surrender' he said in an imploring voice
Another pause 'will they listen? will they think me a pawn sent to fill their heads with lies?'
'Brothers and Sisters, freedom will come but we cannot achieve liberty by following a man who sacrifices our lives without care simply to further his own ambitions. Sabhrain Na Kevsha has promised amnesty to all who surrender, she is aware that the current system cannot continue. so please for your own sakes and the sake of your family, lay down your arms, Murza will meet his death but we need not join him' He finished and lay back in his chair as the radio went offline
'Broadcasting on all frequencies' an army technician in the control booth said as she set the antennae to transmit
'Will they believe me? or will I die a liar and a turncoat?' Deklah thought as he sat alone in the darkness of the recording room
*Bay Radio
**********************************************************************
Tyrooz New City, Prefect Corp Central Headquarters
Fazzah had spent his entire life training to be a greater persons shadow, that was what a good aide-de-camp was an extension of their commander's will. Years of training in diplomacy, intelligence and logistics had combined with Fazzahs innate analytical mind to create an adjutant perfectly suited to Sabhrain Na Kevshas bizarre mix of overt and covert strategy.
In the months since the death of kaskaran and the rise of Murza he had distinguished himself on and off the battlefield, personally driving Sabhrain to Debasha airbase, clearing a path through her would-be assassins and being her intermediary to thousands of officers high and small as she marched south.
He did not have any great love for adrenaline or adventure, Fazzah preferred the cold precision of a command center to the heart-pounding dangers of the field, but nonetheless, here he was once again staring death in the face. He pondered what he would do if he survived this final encounter, buy a house on the coast and write the memoirs he thought with an amused smile. The truth, of course, was that he was a man who could not truly be satisfied with life unless he was serving a commander, there would always be new tasks, he was counting on it.
And so when he had been ordered to issue the perfect commander of the entire capital region with an ultimatum of surrender, he had simply nodded and set about doing just that. Compared with the dangers of Debasha airbase, this seemed like a walk in the park. The familiar mix of anxiety and focus that had filled him as he drove with a white flag to the central headquarters was like a greeting from an old friend.
The guards had been more surprised than anything else, the sign of a Kaiderin with a white flag requested a parlay had left them too unsure of protocols to do anything but grant his audience.
The commander's office was located on the top floor of a multi-story headquarters. The prefects had been granted a shiny new upgrade of glass and steel to replace the aging station house in the old city. Fazzah wondered how many backhand deals and moral lapses had occurred to fund this gaudy structure.
Truth be told the interior of the office was less like a civil servant's workspace and more like a petty king's apartments. Paintings too expensive to have been gained honestly lined the walls, a cabinet filled with wines sat shamelessly displayed in the center of the room and jazz music played from a vintage record player as the commander sat with his feet up on the desk.
If it was possible for a man to reflect externally the inner corruption of their soul then Commander Na Mekonnen had surely achieved this feat. He was a bloated slug of a man, his uniform size having increased so frequently that he now required a personal tailors services, his eyes were bloodshot from overindulgence in wine and narcotics and every movement seemed a terrible effort. Fazzah wondered if the commander had ever done a day's honest police work or if his entire career had been spent lining his pockets and belly.
'I appreciate your visit Captain Fazzah, personal touches are so rare these days' Mekonnen said in a voice laced with false hospitality and pretention
'The Empress requests that you order your forces to stand down' Fazzah said bluntly
'Ha Empress now is it!? how quickly humility is abandoned by the powerful, the Regent has assured me of my position! can your 'Empress' do likewise' Mekonnen replied in a mocking tone
'OUR empress, commander, is advancing upon this city as we speak, the old city has already fallen and the new city will soon follow, I assure you that if you do not stand down you will be dead a few hours after I leave this building' Fazzah said in an icy voice
'And why should I allow you to leave, Murza would pay a fortune for your head!' Mekonnen said with a malevolent grin as he blew a cloud of smoke towards Fazzah
Fazzah straightened his glasses, grinned maliciously and leaned toward Mekonnen, grabbing the man by his collar and pulling him close 'There is a Squadron of Shrikes with orders to level this building should I fail to exit in the next half hour commander, My head would never reach Murza!' Fazzah said in a threatening voice before releasing his grip on the commander
Mekonnen rubbed his neck fearfully and stared at Fazzah with newfound fear in his eyes 'What do you want from me!?' he asked in a frightened voice, all false confidence gone
'Your men will stand down and cease aiding the traitor Murza, when the Empress takes the city you will present yourself to her and resign, you will be allowed to retire outside the capital with all the wealth you require to live comfortably, if you refuse this offer you will not live long, but you will live long enough to know regret' Fazzah said coldly
'Yes, yes it will be done!' Mekonnen said pitifully raising his hands in supplication
'See that it is!' Fazzah snapped before rising to leave
He stopped short of the door and stared up at the picture on the wall. An old Hegemon period picture depicting Shaddan's conquest of the city states that now made up the nation of Fuss. Soldiers cheered the warrior emperor before a broken gate as the peacock banner flowed aloft in the breeze, even the most common warrior in that painting would be a thousand times more endowed with nobility then the flesh bag slumped at the desk.
'By the way, the painting...fake! the real one sits in the palace' Fazzah said slamming the door behind him
'Maybe I should write bloody memoirs' Fazzah thought as he descended the stairs towards the exit
Bayyah Radeyah* recording station, The Old City
Deklah sighed and stubbed out his cigarette as the recording light began to glow bright red. He had never been one for speaking, since the day he'd fled the slums his most valuable trait had been his size and his fists, yet here he was. He wondered briefly if Sahbrain would actually keep her promise or if he had been manipulated by yet another callous player who wanted to use him as a pawn.
'Too late for second thoughts now' he mused grimly
'To the menials of Astragon, to my brothers and sisters in the civil militia, My name is Jannah Deklah and I am speaking to you in the hopes that I can convince you to lay down your arms and save yourselves' he said trying to keep his voice calm and steady
His anxiety rose with each word, his voice felt clunky, crude and lacking in emotion and yet he had to keep speaking, this was the only way he could reach out to the countless menials in the militia.
'I have served Murza for two decades, I have done things I am not proud of and I have committed reprehensible acts on the admiral's behalf. I did what I did because Murza promised me a world where menials like myself would be free from neglect, violence, and cruelty. I did what I did because I believed him when he said he would make us free' Another pause as he struggled for breath
'But Murza has not given us freedom, just servitude by another name, he has armed us and sent us out to fight Kaiderin, he drafts us and orders us to die for the promise of freedom. I can no longer tolerate his deception, there was a time when I would have died for Murza but there comes a point at which loyalty without logic becomes untenable, I am begging all civil militia forces to surrender' he said in an imploring voice
Another pause 'will they listen? will they think me a pawn sent to fill their heads with lies?'
'Brothers and Sisters, freedom will come but we cannot achieve liberty by following a man who sacrifices our lives without care simply to further his own ambitions. Sabhrain Na Kevsha has promised amnesty to all who surrender, she is aware that the current system cannot continue. so please for your own sakes and the sake of your family, lay down your arms, Murza will meet his death but we need not join him' He finished and lay back in his chair as the radio went offline
'Broadcasting on all frequencies' an army technician in the control booth said as she set the antennae to transmit
'Will they believe me? or will I die a liar and a turncoat?' Deklah thought as he sat alone in the darkness of the recording room
*Bay Radio
**********************************************************************
Tyrooz New City, Prefect Corp Central Headquarters
Fazzah had spent his entire life training to be a greater persons shadow, that was what a good aide-de-camp was an extension of their commander's will. Years of training in diplomacy, intelligence and logistics had combined with Fazzahs innate analytical mind to create an adjutant perfectly suited to Sabhrain Na Kevshas bizarre mix of overt and covert strategy.
In the months since the death of kaskaran and the rise of Murza he had distinguished himself on and off the battlefield, personally driving Sabhrain to Debasha airbase, clearing a path through her would-be assassins and being her intermediary to thousands of officers high and small as she marched south.
He did not have any great love for adrenaline or adventure, Fazzah preferred the cold precision of a command center to the heart-pounding dangers of the field, but nonetheless, here he was once again staring death in the face. He pondered what he would do if he survived this final encounter, buy a house on the coast and write the memoirs he thought with an amused smile. The truth, of course, was that he was a man who could not truly be satisfied with life unless he was serving a commander, there would always be new tasks, he was counting on it.
And so when he had been ordered to issue the perfect commander of the entire capital region with an ultimatum of surrender, he had simply nodded and set about doing just that. Compared with the dangers of Debasha airbase, this seemed like a walk in the park. The familiar mix of anxiety and focus that had filled him as he drove with a white flag to the central headquarters was like a greeting from an old friend.
The guards had been more surprised than anything else, the sign of a Kaiderin with a white flag requested a parlay had left them too unsure of protocols to do anything but grant his audience.
The commander's office was located on the top floor of a multi-story headquarters. The prefects had been granted a shiny new upgrade of glass and steel to replace the aging station house in the old city. Fazzah wondered how many backhand deals and moral lapses had occurred to fund this gaudy structure.
Truth be told the interior of the office was less like a civil servant's workspace and more like a petty king's apartments. Paintings too expensive to have been gained honestly lined the walls, a cabinet filled with wines sat shamelessly displayed in the center of the room and jazz music played from a vintage record player as the commander sat with his feet up on the desk.
If it was possible for a man to reflect externally the inner corruption of their soul then Commander Na Mekonnen had surely achieved this feat. He was a bloated slug of a man, his uniform size having increased so frequently that he now required a personal tailors services, his eyes were bloodshot from overindulgence in wine and narcotics and every movement seemed a terrible effort. Fazzah wondered if the commander had ever done a day's honest police work or if his entire career had been spent lining his pockets and belly.
'I appreciate your visit Captain Fazzah, personal touches are so rare these days' Mekonnen said in a voice laced with false hospitality and pretention
'The Empress requests that you order your forces to stand down' Fazzah said bluntly
'Ha Empress now is it!? how quickly humility is abandoned by the powerful, the Regent has assured me of my position! can your 'Empress' do likewise' Mekonnen replied in a mocking tone
'OUR empress, commander, is advancing upon this city as we speak, the old city has already fallen and the new city will soon follow, I assure you that if you do not stand down you will be dead a few hours after I leave this building' Fazzah said in an icy voice
'And why should I allow you to leave, Murza would pay a fortune for your head!' Mekonnen said with a malevolent grin as he blew a cloud of smoke towards Fazzah
Fazzah straightened his glasses, grinned maliciously and leaned toward Mekonnen, grabbing the man by his collar and pulling him close 'There is a Squadron of Shrikes with orders to level this building should I fail to exit in the next half hour commander, My head would never reach Murza!' Fazzah said in a threatening voice before releasing his grip on the commander
Mekonnen rubbed his neck fearfully and stared at Fazzah with newfound fear in his eyes 'What do you want from me!?' he asked in a frightened voice, all false confidence gone
'Your men will stand down and cease aiding the traitor Murza, when the Empress takes the city you will present yourself to her and resign, you will be allowed to retire outside the capital with all the wealth you require to live comfortably, if you refuse this offer you will not live long, but you will live long enough to know regret' Fazzah said coldly
'Yes, yes it will be done!' Mekonnen said pitifully raising his hands in supplication
'See that it is!' Fazzah snapped before rising to leave
He stopped short of the door and stared up at the picture on the wall. An old Hegemon period picture depicting Shaddan's conquest of the city states that now made up the nation of Fuss. Soldiers cheered the warrior emperor before a broken gate as the peacock banner flowed aloft in the breeze, even the most common warrior in that painting would be a thousand times more endowed with nobility then the flesh bag slumped at the desk.
'By the way, the painting...fake! the real one sits in the palace' Fazzah said slamming the door behind him
'Maybe I should write bloody memoirs' Fazzah thought as he descended the stairs towards the exit
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