The Battle for the Armory, Part 2Andres was pleased to find his radio officer's Cannalan-issue radio had begun working again. He picked up the handset: "Sidorenko, what can you see up there?" "Lots of them gathering outside the armory. Tanks, rocket trucks, infantry, the works. Mostly north side. I'm changing channels, got to figure the coordinates for Cortez. Have your men get around and start radar spotting. Oh, and the Cannalan army has come with a good distraction to lure them out." Right on cue, the sound of rhythmic pounding cut through the background noise of distant gunfire and shouting. Then, Andres saw it- a Cannalan weapon which he'd been told to expect, but didn't think would really work. "Metal... Pocken?!" Poketwo's creation, a heavily armored walking tank, marched down the street, breaking the pavement and crushing obstacles with each step. Joha, in his flying flamethrower suit, was riding on the roof to conserve fuel, while Scrublord's Armadillo II traveled a little further back to make use of its huge cannon from a distance. Poketwo announced over a megaphone, "We're missing asdf, so watch for him to bring up the rear."
In fact, asdf's Davy Jones' Locker, the slowest tank in the war, had been locked in a duel with auze's hovercraft, the fastest tank in the war. [1] vs [3] This had resulted in asdf driving into a small ditch, becoming totally immobilized. Auze's already-leaking hovercraft tore up its skirt on rubble in the city while making hit and run attacks, expending all of its ammunition of trying to penetrate the DJL's armor without effect, and asdf's mortar was similarly ineffective against the armor of the Boomer. Auze, hung up on a matter of pride, was now leading his crew in an attempt to pry open the "hatch" of asdf's tank without much luck. Asdf himself had resigned to putting up his legs and eating a sandwich.
Meanwhile, the fate of Forenia was being determined. Metal Pocken marched into the line of fire, drawing the Forenians out. [3] Machine guns, RPGs, and cannonfire tested its armor, as the Forenians revealed their positions. A 100m shell from a Bjorn tank hits one side, destroying one of the Daybreaker cannons. It buys enough time, though, for someone with a radar gun. Guided bombs from the Serafin converge on Forenian tanks and positions. Those who are judged unworthy in the eyes of Cannala are sentenced to death, as no armor is defense against the bombs. Further back, a battery of Sarukh trucks is wiped out by Cannalan cruise missiles. Forenian infantry lead a counterattack, staying low to craters and bombed-out buildings, only to be hit again: the enormous shells fired from the Cortez turn whole buildings to rubble in an instant. The Forenian forces, at first greatly outnumbering the rebels and invaders, are thinning and withering under various sources of long-range fire.
"Now we have the advantage!" Andres declared to his men, looking at a small wasteland which had yet to be re-occupied by the Forenians. "Charge!" He led the Arstotzkans into the smoke. Something ahead moved- an enemy soldier? He turned his gun and fired as his opponent ran from cover to cover- but Andres was too slow. Or, the shape in the smoke was too fast, faster than a man should be. [3] A tiger! It lunged out at Andres, pouncing and clawing his face! He wrestled for a moment to get his rocket gun under the beast, then fired, blowing a hole in the beast's torso before the round continued to take a chunk out of the third floor of a building behind it. He touched his hand to his face, and it came away shining red with blood... but the wounds were only superficial. [1] Back behind him, however, his men were having far more trouble with a sudden onslaught of tigers, and from seemingly all directions. He saw one man waist deep in a manhole, screaming and clawing at the street with his fingernails before being dragged into the darkness. Another soldier tried to kill the tiger attacking his comrade, but riddled them both with bullets. Some men dropped their guns and ran, their panicked shouting echoed back through the streets as they passed around the corner and out of sight. ...Disgusting. Wasn't this some kind of war crime? These shameful hijinx are exactly the sort of reason why allying with the Moskurgs was always a terrible idea. [6] From above, Sidorenko began picking tigers off with his rifle. One of the old Arstotzkan snipers who had earned the country its reputation for excelling at long-range combat, Tereshkova had beat him out in a bid for General back in 1937. He fired ten bullets and killed ten tigers, then Andres was able to rally his men again.
Up in the air, the Serafin bomber had attracted the attention of a couple of Arstotzkan fighters. [1] A Hayat fired off one of its huge Noose missiles before pulling away, a ton lighter. At this range, there would be no time for the Serafin to bail out. Nikola steered his Gabriel fighter behind and Khaz released two Veilfire missiles- one infrared seeking and on semi-active radar homing. [6] Nikola stayed on the tail of his target and guided the radar missile to a hit, sending one Hayat down in smoke. He rolled the plane over and looked up at the ground, with buildings hanging off of it, and found the Serafin still flying... and totally unharmed. The other Veilfire missile had actually intercepted the Noose, as evidenced by two converging trails of smoke. He didn't have time to celebrate, though, another Hayat remained. [6] Nik shot down this one as well, and easily. He was on his way to becoming an ace, and the Serafin was free to keep bombing.
Raafat Al-Hayim regained consciousness. Right now, he was more dazed and confused than the time he and the other engineers decided to test if they could still get drunk off of jet fuel when they reforumulated it for the new VVF jets. Sights and sounds assaulted his senses, but the first thing he began to comprehend was voices shouting. Actually, it was just one person shouting a speech, and punctuating his pauses with roars from a motorcycle engine. What happened? Airplane, parachute... rockets! Raafat tried to stand up. His legs kicked in the air. He was dangling, from a street light, by his parachute. As his head settled, he could hear the speech more clearly. "...not for the fallen, but for our fallen country! If we do not do this now, then the deaths of today will be few compared to the deaths under a Cannalan Arstotzka! I wil not die under the heel of a foreign regime!" The speaker appears to be... Kot, the crazy Arstotzkan who shows up in parliament sometimes. Raafat cut himself down from his parachute and landed gracefully on the ground [2], is what he planned to write later. He didn't actually bring a knife. "H-hey! Excuse me! I need help getting, uh, down! Please." A couple Arstotzkans stood under him and discussed how to get him down amongst themselves. One tried to prod him down with a Horsekiller Mk II, but unfortunately he hadn't opted for the bayonet attachment so he couldn't cut the straps. After a couple tries, one managed to throw Raafat a knife, so he cut himself down and landed in a heap on the floor. "Get up!" One said. "Unless you want to be a Cannalan, we fight."
Luckily, Taricus's Demolisher had survived the artillery attack. Since the Bjorns hadn't been enough to bring down the Cannalan walking-tank, he and his 120mm gun were to lead the attack. It looks like Metal Pocken hadn't given up on leading the attack either; its walking form emerged ahead of the rebel Arstotzkans. Infantry assembled in the area scattered away, knowing their RPGs would probably have no effect, and Joha launched his rocket-suit to harass them, leaving a duel between the Demolisher and Metal Pocken. [2] vs [1] The battle between the two was short and decisive. The Demolisher's cannon fired first and struck a leg joint, causing Metal Pocken to collapse on its nose. However, Metal Pocken fired a missile into the air. This was guided unseen by Sidorenko's radar gun, and while the Demolisher fired another shot which started a fire on Metal Pocken, the missile found its target and turned the Demolisher into a crater. Poketwo and his crew were forced to abandon Metal Pocken, but the loyalist Arstotzkans are showing no quarter. Nader Jabal, with his Rabid Tiger Armor, charged the retreating men down. [6] vs [4] Joha intervened, jumping into the middle of the battle, and sweeps wildly across Nader with his flamethrower as he lands. However, he didn't hit well enough to stop Nader, who subsequently blew him away with both of his guns. [6] Poketwo successfully retreated back to the rebels, while Nader fell over in pain from his burns.
Much of the armor on either side had been destroyed, and Scrublord, with his vehicle most effective at long range, moved back a couple blocks. The fight was now primarily infantry on infantry, with a few Cannalan Raiders coming in as reinforcements. Inklings of sunrise were beginning across the water to the east. The loyalists set up machineguns in the clearing in front of the armory, and the rebels moved in to take the last few defensible positions between them and their goal. Olith took a lead this time, pointing his radiation monstrosity at a makeshift trench, a mere crater with sandbags. [2] vs [1] Powder Miner moved up to defend. He waded into the fire, bullets deflecting off his armor and radiation maybe reflecting off of his armor or maybe cooking him. With a couple shotgun blasts, Olith went down, badly injured. However, he left himself exposed for Sidorenko, who had set up in a nearby building with a Cannalan M1944 Anti-Materiel rifle. Sidorenko gunned him down in the field, the .50 round penetrating the front of the armor and stopping inside the back plate.
Kot, unarmored, had speed as his defense. He rode his motorcycle through what flat ground remained, shouting to each group of his men he passed, "Hold the line, Arstotzkans! Hold the LINE!" He peeled out on his bike after dropping a box of ammo in front of one machine gun nest, and a .50 caliber bullet obliterated a sandbag just behind him. He shouted to a group of men, "There's a sniper! About there!" He pointed his finger, then rode off quickly before the next shot. It so happened that group of men included EvictedSaint, and the men who he had followed on the off chance they might know a safe place to stand. (This, he reflected, was not a safe place to stand.) [2] He summoned all of his courage, pointed his gun, and fired, before quickly ducking down again. It didn't look like he had hit his mark, because a second later, a shot rang out and the man next to him lost his jaw in a small spray of gore. The Arstotzkan fell down, not quite dead but twitching in pain and shock. Raafat tried hopelessly to stop the bleeding with his hands. After a period of seconds which felt like an eternity, the soldier on the ground stopped breathing. In that moment, Raafat Al-Hayim learned what it really meant to see bloodshed firsthand in a way that years of reading about it, talking about it, writing about it, watching films about it and even seeing fighting from a distance never had. That guy was just
gone, like that! He dropped his weapon, and, hands shaking, and ran to a trench a little further back. [4] The men in this trench were arguing over a weapon. "It doesn't shoot! How do I cock it?" "I don't know, you figure it out, and get me another belt!" While one man was operating a Sorraia machinegun, the other was trying to figure out a weapon which Raafat had seen before: Kashyyk's UF-MGL45 "Jackrabbit" grenade launcher. Memories came back to him. About a month back, Kashyyk had shown the grenade launcher at a meeting. He had mostly gone on about how this grenade launcher he was trying to sell was the weapon Forenian forces needed, or something. While Raafat wasn't completely sold on it, he did remember one thing that had been impressed upon him many times: "This lever doesn't go back! It goes UP and OVER!" The two Arstotzkan loyalists looked at him, and Raafat realized that he had repeated the quote out loud. "What? Oh. You've used this?" "No no, I just- I've got to go!" [3] Raafat made an untactical retreat, while the man with the grenade launcher fired it into the window of a tall building a short distance away. Raafat never found out if they hit that sniper, but he did avoid being shot in his retreat.
Kot had now set out on his primary mission: Kill Andres. [4] He didn't have much trouble finding him. As his men stalled, Andres had moved up to use his rocket gun, leaving himself somewhat exposed. Kot came around from the flank, launched his M17A off some convenient rubble and fired off his RPG28 in Andres' general direction. [4] vs [5] The RPG killed some men behind Andres, while a rocket passed through Kot's rear wheel without detonating on the spot. Kot landed and his motorcycle skidded over on its side. He threw away his rocket launcher and stood up, pistol in his right hand, and unsheathed his sword with the other. His red cape blew in the wind, visible even at a distance, and Scrublord, whose cannon couldn't take a clear shot without risking harm to Andres. He didn't come up shooting: there was an Arstotzkan way of doing things. That way was remembered by both Kot and Andres, who almost exactly ten years ago had worked and fought side by side for the glory of Arstotzka. Andres took a moment to reload his weapon. "You should have joined us, Kot. We could make Arstotzka rule again." "Not the real Arstotzka. Not as puppets. Not like this." Besides the soldiers still fighting, it felt as though the eyes of hundreds of dead bodies around them watched to see if their sacrifice had meant anything. [3] vs [5] Kot raised his pistol. Andres readied his gun. They both lunged to dodge and missed, but Kot was struck by shrapnel from the rocket round which exploded behind him. [4] vs [4] Kot dropped his pistol from his wounded arm and charged with his sword. Andres fired and missed, and then Kot was in arm's reach. He forced Andres' gun upward, and the next shot went into the sky. [5] vs [3] Kot wrestled with Andres and tried to stab him, only getting a strike in with the pommel of his sword. Andres' gun clattered to the ground as he used both hands to defend himself. The three claw marks across his face started bleeding again from the stress. [1] vs [2] Andres wasn't above using a knife: he drew his, and tried to slash Kot across the gut. Fortunately for Kot, he had worn armor and only took a small cut in the gap on the side of his torso. [6] vs [6] The two wrestled each other to the ground, both reaching for Andres' huge gun...
[2] vs [6] Kot was younger than Andres by about twenty years. Although he had known Andres and worked with him during the Forenian War, it was Kot’s father who been there since the fateful day the Engineering Department was founded. Andres’ hair had turned grey and the years had added lines to his face. Kot, in his youth, was faster. He shoved Andres away from him and grabbed the gun, then stood up to fire the killing shot. Andres, in his age, had far more experience. He swept his leg, and kicked Kot’s feet out from under him. Kot fired, and the rocket-round skipped off a piece of rubble near Andres before flying a hundred meters up and exploding in the air. Andres rose to his feet and towered above his former comrade. Kot, though still lying on his back, aimed the gun up and pointed the barrel straight at Andres's chest. Kot pulled the trigger, but was caught off guard by silence after a quiet click. The magazine was empty. Andres didn’t flinch: he had been counting. Kot froze for a moment, which allowed Andres to grab the gun out of his hands, hoist it up by the barrel, and krump Kot over the head with it. Kot mumbled, “Traitor…” before his newfound concussion got the better of him and he collapsed.
Raafat cowered in the armory itself. His fear of death was almost too great to move, but his curiousity was also so strong that he couldn't help but place his eyes over a hole in the wall. While he used his coat to wipe the blood from his hands, he saw Kot and Andres fight until Kot was beaten down. Then, the remaining Forenian soldiers between Andres and the armory fell one by one. A few scared men ran into the armory as well, having dropped their weapons. By the time the Arstotzan rebels got close to the gates, it was clear that there could be no resisting them. Raafat listened as some commander, or man who had been forced into the position by deaths in the chain of command, spoke through tears and gave the order to raise a white flag. Arstotzkan rebels poured in, then started rounding up Forenian soldiers and loyalists and forcing them into one of the hangars. Raafat made an attempt to stand in a corner, but one soldier walked up and brusquely grabbed him by the shoulder, saying nothing, then motioned with his rifle to join the rest of the prisoners. "a-AAH!" Raafat exclaimed, "D-don't shoot, I'm a j-journalist!" [5] The soldier took a look at Raafat. He had no weapon, he was dressed in a pair of slacks and a blood-stained white button-up shirt with a tie, and he simply didn't have the demeanor of a soldier. (This is a polite way of saying there was a wet spot around the zipper of his pants.) "You can, uh, stay right there. Don't move."
This was the perfect time for Raafat to make a daring escape! He didn't see an escape route, so he stayed where he was. Then, another group of men arrived. It was a bunch of Cannalan commandoes, most of them using night-vision scopes. They rolled in with half a dozen Raiders or more, and then they kept coming, until their yellow-badged uniforms seemed to outnumber the red Arstotzkans two to one. Even though the the battle had ended, they ran with urgency to every corner of the armory. Then, he could hear what sounded like a heated argument. There were a few gun shots. [2] He saw three men wrestling Andres into the back of a Raider, and slam the door. Some of the other Arstotzkans were being marched around like prisoners. The Cannalans must have decided that Andres and his rebels had outlived their usefulness. One of the commandoes approached Raafat. "J-, uh, journalist? Journalissimo? Journal-o." The soldier looked at him in non-comprehension. "I write!" Raafat made pen-on-paper gesture with a finger and an open hand. "Get in the vehicle, civilian." The Cannalan spoke in Russian, which Raafat understood well enough to comply. He was locked up in a Raider separate from the other soldiers, alone with his thoughts. With the armory fallen, there would be no sustaining the remainder of Forenia's forces. When the Moskurg army - his own neighbors - reached the capitol they would surrender or be destroyed. The war was lost. This was a feeling Raafat was well acquainted with from the end of the first Forenian war. He had hoped to forget it.
Elsewhere...Man of Paper paid absolutely no attention to the war going on around him. Instead, he was focusing on a project he called BEES: Bright Energy Emitting System. [1] BEES was a television set, using technology from Forenian radar display screens. It was monochromatic with a strong green hue, it made a buzzing noise which could be heard from a room away, and worst of all, it had a visible 20hz circular refresh. Its only upside was that the radio encoding equipment, and the set itself, were considerably cheaper than the better-looking American standard televisions with a 525-line progressive refresh. [4] Fortunately, his Moskurg factory location (the labor was cheaper there) left him relatively untouched during the civil war fighting, and he went on to achieve modest financial success.
An airliner the UFAF-MTA-45 Shepard, impeccably furnished and loaded with gold and luxurious liquor, carried a load of war orphans away from the fighting. [6] It went untouched through the combat zone, and its passengers found asylum in the United States. Its maker, Salim Shahid, was not on board, and he disappeared during the All Saints Day Crisis. If he survived that night, which many did not, he never used the same name again.
[5] Lightforger, not a combatant and armed with no special weapon, waited out the battle in the woods near the airstrip after giving General Tereshkova the airplane he had built. He survived, but was dismayed to find the wrong flag over the capitol in the morning.
[3] NAV fought with some regular Forenian infantry after deploying his trained tigers. He was shot during the battle, but carried to safety and made a full recovery, except for a slight limp. Many paid a higher price for the pride of defending their nation. [1] For example, not a single one of his trained tigers survived the battle.
[1] Dwennon did not survive the catastrophic sinking of the Kalamity. Aboard the Cortez, [2] [2] BBBence and TheFantasticMrFox were both critically injured, and while they were carried off of the ship by able-bodied crewmen, they will be confined to wheelchairs for their remaining days, Bence with only his right arm and Fox with only his left eye.
[2] asdf, unfortunately, ran out of oxygen before attempts by a Cannalan construction corps team to drill into his ridiculous tank could be completed. He survived the experience, but only with serious brain damage. As for the tank itself, it was easier to leave it in the ditch it drove into, build the road into a roundabout around it, and call it a monument, than it would have been to remove it.
[3] Poketwo, after escaping the wreck of his Metal Pocken, survived the battle, but not without a measure of ignominy as he ran full tilt away from the combat zone rather than continue to fight.
[3] Raafat Al-Hayim was treated well in prison and released after a couple days. He would go on to write about his brutal experience in the forced labor camps where prisoners starved to death while working 16 hours a day.
Zanzetkuken’s Plan[5] [5] [6] Three submarines slipped undetected past Cannalan U-boat patrols and close to the shore. Cannalan U-boat patrols, which lack sonar, do not have a very good reputation for being effective. This is compounded by the fact that the crews of many such ships follow the logic that, if they are terribly unlikely to actually encounter an enemy submarine regardless of what they do, they may as well sneak extra rum rations aboard and turn their ship into a publicly-funded pleasure yacht.
Still, Zanzetkuken had not thought so far as to create a remote delivery method for his fungal agents. The going plan was to simply surface the Boot submarine, paddle to shore in an inflatable life raft, then open up a few cans of freeze-dried war crimes and shake them out over the ground. [3] A group from the first submarine came ashore near a wooded area, which didn’t necessarily seem ideal for blighting farm crops, but they decided it was better to deploy their Red Rot strains here than go near a more populated farm and potentially get shot. They escaped without issue. [6] The group from the second submarine came ashore a short walk from a major sugarcane field, and spread their payload with gleeful, yet dastardly abandon, like evil children frolicking through the fields.[2] Their return was less triumphant than they had hoped - their surfaced submarine had been found and boarded by some Buccaneer Boats. With their submarine captured, the group decided it was best to just keep walking. They are missing in action, but possibly at a pub. [3] Zanzetkuken’s sub surfaced a decent walk from any crops, but he led an expedition on land which found a vineyard. Grapes weren’t one of the targeted crops, but he tried it anyway, deciding it was worth an attempt. [6] A group of beach bums were hanging out around the surfaced submarine when he returned, but he summoned his best Spanish-speaking skills and successfully convinced them that he was running secret submarine trials for the Cannalan Navy. He then paddled back to the submarine, and put on his brightest smile as he waved at them and closed the hatch. Once the submarine was sealed and began to dive, he said aloud: “Enjoy your poisoned grapes, stupid yokels!”
On a LifeboatTereshkova allowed two men to pull her up into a lifeboat. Two
Cannalans. She had lost planes before, but never until now had it resulted in her being captured. Her shame turned to outright embarrassment when she was who was at the head of the lifeboat: "You!" Cortez and Tereshkova both exclaimed at once, in their respective languages. However, Cortez had been practicing his Russian. "I finally shot down your plane! Witch!" The shipless admiral beamed, while his sailors could only look at the conversation in confusion. One of them growled, "I thought you said you saw one of our sailors this way. Why are you acting like we're done looking?" Cortez only ignored him and continued speaking to Tereshkova in a language his men could not understand. "Well? Aren't you going to admit that I'm better?" "Your worthless ship sunk too!" She shouted back, and punched him in the face. A couple sailors who had sidearms raised them at her and a couple more grabbed her arms, but Cortez gently pressed their guns down and motioned his men to let her go. A couple sailors spoke amongst each other. An old sailor with a white mustache whispered "What the hell is he doing? Back in '22, if we found strange girls in the water, we shot them before they could cause any more trouble! I seen 'em floating like they oughta surrender, then jump ten feet in the air with a spear!" A younger sailor with his broken arm tied to his chest whispered back, "I heard he's always talking about this Forenian ace who kept dropping bombs on his ships. You don't think it's this... woman?" "Makin' women fight ain't right anyhow." A burly sailor whose wide shoulders almost took up two spaces said, "Is it true he never married? I kinda of assumed he was into, you know..." Cortez shot him the sort of death glare that a man is only capable of after being responsible for the deaths of hundreds or thousands. Then, Tereshkova got his attention again. "Since you can't sit over here like a coward, shooting my homeland with huge guns anymore..." she looked in the direction of the sinking ship named after Cortez, now only her (his?) bow was visible. "I bet my country is winning." "How about we a bet? When we get on land, I think we both need a drink. If Cannalan is winning, we'll have some proper rum. If Forenia is winning, somehow, we'll stomach some of your vodka swill." Tereshkova turned away to hide her face from him. "...deal."
In SpaceYears ago, AS-SS1935X, the first rocket to make it to space, disappeared behind the moon and hadn’t been seen since. Less than 48 hours ago, Blood Librarian's Cannalan Moon Rocket made a brief sojourn into the heavens, then descended back to Earth. Now in Earth's orbit there were yet to be any satellites, space platforms, discarded booster stages, or any kind of evidence at all that mankind had traveled among the stars. Six NEMO rockets floated above the Earth utterly, completely alone, the only man-made artifacts in space and within them, the only men and women in space. They looked through tiny windows at their former home. Not only had the earth become smaller, but now they could see that Forenia and Turbados were dwarfed by Earth's larger landmasses. This is something they all knew, of course, but the maps they had grown up with in school had, frankly, lied about the sheer disparity. Everyone present is excited, and congratulating each other on making it this far. Passengers carefully unharness themselves and take their first movements in microgravity. Aboard one of the habitation rockets, designated HAB-1, an officer of the program addressed the crew. "We've got OK sound- offs from... HAB-2, Okay. HAB-4, Okay. GAIA... fuel leak reported. LUX, okay. DIG... sounds like some equipment came loose, but they're handling it. Nothing from HAB-3 and BABEL. Give me a minute..." There was a tense silence. The Officer sat at the head of the rocket, and listeners from three levels crowded around the central ladder to hear him. "I'm confirming... HAB-2 saw this, BABEL and HAB-3 didn't make it." A few shocked murmurs, but mostly, silence. "We... knew everyone might not make it. Right now, without Babel, we've got no reliable way to broadcast to Earth, and for whatever reason, we're not getting anything from the broadcast station on the launch platform right now." He waited a moment, and took a breath to steady himself. "Now that we're up here, there's no turning back. We can only begin to rendezvous with the other rockets, and prepare for our burn to Mars. Everybody, get to your stations. Connector crew, put on your space suits. Engineers, test the directional thrusters. We'll need a few spotters. Mikhail, our first partner is HAB-2 and then DIG, so get on the radio with both of them. Everyone else, stay out of the way."
"Remember, everyone..."
"Mars, or bust."
In a Dimly Lit RoomAndres squinted as a guard pulled the bag from over his head. There was a bright light shining in his face, but when he tried to shield his eyes he found his hands were tied to the back of his chair. His eyes adjusted a little bit, and he could see there was another man tied to a chair, still with a bag over his head. Three guards were in the room, and in the shadows behind the bright lamp on the table there was another figure, though this one wore a flat-brim hat and a suit with square shoulders. “Explain how you got the ship.” His interrogator’s voice sounded familiar, but he was silhouetted in the dark. “Vlanlados…” Andres said. The man grew angry, and pounded the table. “I wouldn’t let my kid swim with a pool floater made in Vlanlados! They can’t build a damn ship!” He took a breath to calm down. “The ship you came to us in was our very own ship, wasn’t it? You hijacked it. The CNS Aztec. Don’t try to lie about it, we already captured it. We already scoured the new paint off, and found the paint from the old name. When did you get it? What happened to the crew?”
Andres couldn’t suppress the urge to laugh a little. “I saw one of your newspaper articles about the, uh, Turbados Triangle? That’s what I think they called it. Ships disappearing? Spooooky, right?” The man in charge of the interrogation made a hand motion, and one of the guards slapped Andres in the back of the head. “Answer the question.” “Okay, so that was us, of course. After the rebel scum took over Forenia, we Arstotzkans needed ships. We got some gold from the Arstotzkan national bank on the way out. Then, we simply found some ships we liked, and bribed your captains to give up the ships for a fraction of their worth! You don’t pay your captains enough! Or, maybe you should have tried not priding yourself on being a nation of people who use boats to get rich illegally”
At another gesture from the interrogator, a guard removed the sack from the other man’s head. Andres found himself staring at Kot’s blood-soaked face. “Is this true?” Kot, still dazed, took a moment to respond. When he did speak, he did so slowly. “Maybe. I wasn’t there.” “Hit him,” the man in charge said. The guard gave him a solid punch in the head. “AH! That’s still tender!” Kot exclaimed, “I mean it, I never left Arstotzka! Not even when it was Forenia. The difference between me and him is that I’d never flee my country, and I’d never, ever EVER rely on help from filthy
pirates.” He rasped the last word with particular hatred. “When you first started trading favors with them, you lost the right to your GORYL! Now look where we
are!”
The interrogator clasped his hands and allowed his two subjects to speak. Andres rebutted, “You didn’t have the guts to do what it takes! Maybe you don’t know because you were a child then, but the old Arstotzka wasn’t clean! It was glorious. But High Command had to play dirty to keep the order.”
“You call leading the enemy to our doorstep so they can put you down like a dog when they’re done with you
fighting dirty? I call it
rolling around in shit!”
“Stupid kid! If you had just joined us when it was time, we could have been six times as strong in number, and they’d have to sit down and make a deal instead of capturing us. We could have got our country back! Instead, your Arstotzkan ideals are sooooo strong you had to go killing other Arstotzkans!”
“Enough!” The man leading the interrogation was ready to ask more questions. “So, you took your ship. OUR ship. I need a cigar...” A guard produced one and lit it for him. “That’s better. You took our ship, and what did you set out to do with it?”
“We set sail for Vlanlados to get resources.”
“No, I don’t think that’s true. You see, we’ve asked a lot of Vlanladosians about their involvement. Unless they’re collectively the greatest spies of our time, I think they are in fact utterly incapable of subtlety. Most of them seem eager to outright brag about their state secrets. They agree on the date you first arrived, when you started stealing equipment from Forenia, the weapons you started producing, all of it. You didn’t go there for years after you first stole a ship, and when you did, we know, because they immediately started telling everybody who would listen.” He puffed his cigar. “Now. Where were you on January 12th, 1938?”
“Fine! You’ve figured it out.” Andres did his best to stare him in the eyes. “We were in Cannala. We shelled your sorry asses, and you were all too drunk to catch us for it!”
Kot turned red with rage. “YOU STARTED THIS! You ATTACKED THEM! You put us all into war for your STUPID REVOLUTION! You wanted to bring Arstotzka back, BUT WE WENT FROM FORENIA TO CANNALA AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!” Kot started scooting his chair closer to Andres to kick him in the shins.
“Ow!”
A guard scooted Kot back away from Andres, who continued speaking. “Yes, looking around me, I can see it didn’t go according to plan. But, I had to try. Arstotzka deserved her victory, she deserved the whole continent, her own sovereignty, nothing less. If I could go back, the only thing I’d change is to win the fight. I’d shell Cannala again, and I’d put up the Cannalan flag and shell Forenian again too for just one chance-”
This started Kot up again. “You WHAAAT?” He lurched towards Andres, and his chair fell down. Even though his hands were tied behind his back, he was still so frothing with rage that he bit at Andres’ ankles. “TRAITOR! TREASON! SCUM! YOUR FAUUUULT!”
The man in the shadows turned the light back out of Kot and Andres’ faces, revealing himself as Eduardo Charpez, El Presidente de Cannala. “Thank you. It’s been most informative. Lock them back up, boys.”