#advisor lady

“How long?”  asked Pedro, looking towards Saladin's direction.  He scoffs.

“Question of my life.  At this rate, decryption of the archives will take about two weeks--”

“Two minutes is too long,” shot back Robert as he pour himself a glass of scotch.  Saladin was even less amused than before.

“--Which is why redirecting all non-critical processing power and altering commands to allow us to view chunks of data, that way we aren't just sitting here doing nothing,” he finished.  Saladin rubbed the bags underneath his eyes, wondering how in the hell they all got talked into this.  “Check your screens to see if you have anything popping up.  We'll have to start somewhere.”

“I've got some files opening up.  Looks like—what?  Embarrassing holiday photos?”  Seondeok scans through her given load—Bismark's family reunion it looks like—before stealing a glance at her teammates. Robert was drinking to forget, no doubt in her mind; reading the early reports was a grim affair.   Saladin and Pedro were one out of context line away from being at each others throats ever since it was made public that the previous leaders had offered secret deals with Alexander, Genghis, Shaka Zulu, Gandhi, and Montezuma, hoping to gain support or use them as a spy.  Pedro had assured them that they had no intentions of the sort, but with hesitations from Alexander's army near Dido's forces. Safe to say, the paranoia has begun to set in. Many countries were now embroiled in reluctant, but catastrophic civil wars.  Farms destroyed, cities razed, countrymen fighting countrymen, one would think the sight alone would be enough to demoralize their opponents.  Maybe that's why they're pushing so hard, she thought, make things bad enough in the hopes of calling it quits.  Some leaders were already overthrown, with Cleopatra being the first to be sent into hiding from Augustus' and Ramses' forces and she hasn't been heard from since.  But not all was bleak, for the Shikken's advice did not go unheeded.  Thankfully, many families were able to be saved.

The sooner this war ended, the better.

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“Dammit!  How did we lose that many fronts already?!” shouted Chandragupta.  

“You mean besides the fact that they outnumber us at least two-to-one?”  Gorgo snarked at the warlord.  “They've had their forces set from the beginning.  I wouldn't be surprised if they had been planning such an attack for ages and just waited until they had a reason.”

“Not saying I disagree, but look right here!”  He pointed at a unit in red with an “X” over it on the map, “These troops were hidden and ready to ambush them, but they ended up detected anyway. There's another dozen squads in this area alone that have suffered the same fate, and I doubt our enemies are omniscient.”

“What are you suggesting, then?”  asked Genghis, egging the Indian king on.  Chandragupta glares at the Mongolian.

“That there's a rat among us, how else could my armies get decimated so easily?”

“Is that what you call them?  I thought they were called fodder.”

“No, that's what we call your cavalry.”

“I swear by the Sun—Enough already!”  Tomyris interjected.  

“What did they offer you, hmm?  Did Atilla promise to leave you alone?  That they would seize Tomyris' empire and give you her horses?”

“You dare spit on my honor?”  The two were now sizing up to each other.

“This is getting us nowhere, dammit!”  These are leaders?  They act like children.

“I couldn't even if I wanted to, because it's not even there!”

“Just like the strength of your army!”

Genghis and Chandragupta began to lunge towards each other, only for a spear to be thrown between them, narrowly missing both faces.  They turn to look at Gorgo, who, at the moment, was a raging force of tranquil fury.

“Enough. What is done is done.  Genghis, the lot of you chose to hide Attila's deal, so quit acting like you would not be suspicious if the roles were reversed.  Chandragupta, making baseless accusations only makes things worse.  Having proof is one thing, but starting a fight with an ally is far from a sound plan.”

They back away slightly.  She continues, her anger reaching a breaking point,  “And I for one, will not stand by while my Spartans are dying needlessly because you two can't put together a battle plan!”  Gorgo walks over and grabs her spear from the wall, stopping only to give death glares at them.  “Now, what's the situation, and how do we get out of it?”

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“No luck, I take it?”

Poundmaker looked up from his phone, snapping back into reality. He sighed and gently shrugs.

“Maybe.  Hard to say at this point.  It's obvious that the only reason that they're banding together is because of Catherine.  Her plan may actually work, but...”

“But...?” Helena asked, unsure of what he was getting at.  The weight of everything was starting to get to her.  What that “everything” was, however, she wouldn't let on.

“But is it the right thing to do?”

“I don't understand.”

“Hear me out on this.  Let's say this works—Catherine's plan to undermine and make them turn on each other?  It--That doesn't stop the war, it just gets pointed in a different direction,” he explained.  Helena dropped her shoulders and buried her face in her right hand, not wanting to admit that he was right.

“What other options do we have, Poundmaker?  They're not up for negotiating at this point, they just want us dead!”

“That doesn't make what we're planning to do any less wrong.”

“And they're in the right?!”  Helena asked incredulously, eyes gleaming.  What the hell?

“Their nations' securities were breached!  Name me one of our own who wouldn't demand the same.”

“So their answer is laying to waste to everything?  Everyone?” she continued, her anger no longer kept in check, “They've already gotten a head start with--” Helena stops herself, choking on tears at this point.

“Helena?” If there was ever reason to worry about her, it was now.

She tries to formulate the words but can't.  Tears began to slowly fall. Why?  Why did it have to be him?

“Helena, what happened?”

She finally buckles underneath the weight, falling to her knees and sobbing profusely.  He reaches out to try to calm her down. “He's...He's gone...”  Helena gets out, “My father is dead...He-he was...w-w-with Gilgamesh...They found Cleopatra dead in a safe house—it was a trap by Augustus and th-they got separated...Gilgamesh just sent word—My God, Poundmaker.  He's gone...gone.  And the reports keep pouring in...and...Oh God...The blood.  All the blood...”

“Any word from your mother or father?” asked the warrior queen, almost with an uncharacteristic gentleness as she touched the Shikken's face. If she were anyone else, he thought, he'd be able to churn a canned, diplomatic response.  But he knows better than to do so with her.  His mind is elsewhere, chasing a million thoughts that all lead to bitter ends.  Hojo need say nothing—as if he can formulate any words at a time like this.  He is grateful that they are alone for the time being as he pulls her into a tight embrace and kisses her forehead.  His heart racing and heavy with worry that his family—their family—no, he dare not finish that thought.  Tomyris softly strokes his back, a gesture that amounts to a platitude at this point.  Hojo Tokimune finally releases her and actually manages a response.

“No, but my best agents are looking,” he said, pacing around.  “I can't believe—After all my father did, after all this time...Did Oda really think no one would find out?” Hojo asked with rising anger.

“I'm just wondering why Catherine said nothing.”

“I as well,” he remarked bitterly as he spotted Catherine entering the meeting room , “Perhaps there will be time to ask.”

“Any direction you are leaning towards?”

“No.  And I wish I knew why.”

His face softens as he returns his gaze back to Tomyris.  She takes his hand, squeezes it—yet another well-meaning platitude that does little to quell his mind-- and motions to the meeting room door.  He dare not think of a world without his warrior queen and their unborn child.

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She peels her away from her phone screen, only to be greeted by Poundmaker's assured gaze.  Helena felt a strange calm, given the situation.  In all of her travels and years of advising the leaders, she'd never imagine a situation like this.  But her father was right: if she kept them calm and civil, then there's a chance they'd all get out of this with as little damage as possible.  The definition of what “little” meant in this case, however, remained to seen. Helena looked once more to Poundmaker and he gave her a quick nod. The leaders and governors had taken their seats.  Time to test the strength of every diplomatic relation and moral fiber present.  As she headed to her seat, the conversations

“Good afternoon,”  Helena began, hoping that the nerves stayed far away from her speech, “My apologies for any business that may have been interrupted or inconvenience caused, but I'm sure all of you are aware of the severity of the situation.”

A few nods, a few looks of disgust aimed at Catherine.

“In short, the previous leaders have demanded that Catherine be stripped of her throne and title as queen, and for her to be extradited back to their territories for...”she drifts off, trying to find the strength to finish the demand.  The governors and leaders lean in to hear the following words, though they already know what is to come.  “For execution.”

The words linger in the air as an uncomfortable silence befalls the room.  Hojo and Tomyris exchange glances from across the aisle, Jadwiga and Mvemba are nothing short of horrified, and Curtin, as well as many others, have their conflicted feelings broadcasted on their faces.  For a moment, Helena's resolve begins to wane.  She glances to the governors for anything that resembled encouragement, and unsurprisingly she found it only in Poundmaker yet again as he nodded for her to continue.

“Without a doubt, this demand is...unprecedented.  And with that being said, the floor is to be opened to discussion.  I implore you all to remain civil, and remind you all that all the rules of normal debate are in effect. Mind your words carefully.”

The hot-tempered Lautaro quickly leapt to his feet, full of seething rage.  “There is no need for discussion!  Our path is clear, and I  will not allow my people to suffer because of her!”

“You were not recognized, Lautaro.  Perhaps you should have been paying closer attention to what Advisor Helena has been saying,” Amani shot back, furrowing her brow, “that is a strike against your speaking privileges.  Has this been noted, Pingala?”

“Strike one noted.”

“Thank you,” Helena replied.  “Lautaro, two more strikes and you lose your ability to speak.  Another outburst after that, and you will have any voting stripped for the duration of meeting.”  The young leader relents, though it is clear he is not happy about his reprimand.  As he sits back down, the Trajan raises his hand to be recognized.

“The floor recognizes Emperor Trajan.”

The elderly commander rises from his seat, half genuine, half performing, as all Romans do when in engaged in politics.  “Perhaps it is best to hear what Catherine says in her defense?  After all, the only things we've heard are her charges.”  Leaders begin to nod, though some remain stubborn and roll their eyes instead. Jadwiga looks at Catherine, hoping that whatever newfound resolve she had earlier hasn't worn off yet.

“Many thanks, Trajan,” she began, “it is good--”

“Spare me your pleasantries, Catherine,”  he interjects, “I need to know if I'll be sending my men to their deaths for a worthy cause or electing for you to take their place.”

For a split second, the sharpness of his honesty catches her off guard; must be all that time with Gorgo.  She regains her composure before she continues.  “Right,” she began, “I know that my espionage and intelligence gathering has made me few friends--”

John Curtin leans to Saladin and whispers, “Well, at least she can state the obvious.”  The sultan lets out a small chuckle in agreement.

“But friendships and alliances are neither here nor there--”

Do tell, Tamar thinks to herself.

“It is a simple matter of pragmatism.”

Gitarja and Cleopatra try their damnedest not to laugh.  Hojo raises an eyebrow.

“The data that was leaked through a hack in the system.  A virus was able to bypass our highest levels of security and get into the archives.  From there, caches of data were made public while others were encrypted, and that information is the only key to any success. It is no secret that they outnumber us, but numbers mean little when they are all at each others throats.”  

Cleopatra lazily raised her hand, her mind already made up.

“The floor recognizes Cleopatra.”

“Forgive me for being as so bold to say such things,” she began, not even attempting to hide her disdain, “but why should our time and resources be spent on a convoluted plan, when they have so graciously provided the solution already?”  A few leaders loudly murmur in agreement.  

“Quiet!” Helena shouts.  Dammit, they're starting to lose it.

Mvemba raises his hand to be recognized, all the while staring Cleopatra down.  How...uncharacteristic of him, Helena thinks to herself.

“Mvemba you are recognized by the floor.”  Maybe he'll talk some sense?

“Because,” the Kongo chieftain emphasized, “it tells them that we give into whatever they demand!  Who is to say that they will stop at just demanding her?  What is to stop them from seizing your lands?”  He finally breaks contact with Cleopatra and turns to his fellow leaders, almost with a tinge of desperation.  Hojo is on edge, trying to keep his darker thoughts at bay.  “We must not yield on this matter, otherwise they will bully us until our homes have been pillaged and our people taken as slaves.”

Shit.

“Nonsense!”  cried Victoria, “There are plenty of them that are civilized enough to not make such demands.”

“And there are just as many who would!”  Teddy fired back.  “Attila, Napoleon,  Askia, Oda, just to name a few.”  Tokimune winces.  Do they even know?  “And you can bet that Elizabeth would kill for the chance to have the British Crown again!”

“Victoria and Roosevelt!”  Helena shouted.  No one seemed to care.  Even the governors are unsure as to what to do.  And just like that, all civility had vanished.

“How do you expect to fight a war on that large of a united front?!”  Cleopatra questioned the American president.  “Your Boy Scouts for Hire can only get you so far!”

“Ah, dear Cleopatra, always so quick to surrender,” mused the Russian Czar, “Tell me again how you lost your throne to Augustus?  Maybe he'll be nice enough this time to bring Ramses with him—Place an actual Egyptian on the throne. ”  She narrowed her eyes at him.  Tomyris glances at the Shikken, his turmoil clear as day to anyone paying attention.

“That's enough!”  Poundmaker shook his head.  You know better than that, Helena.

“This is fear-mongering at it best!” the Australian Prime Minister asserted.  “As horrible as this predicament is, we must look at the big picture.  And I have yet to see or hear of any actual credible--”

Hojo could be silent no longer.

“Then you haven't been keeping up with everything that has been leaked,” he stated with a hostile timbre in his voice as he stood to address Curtin.  “Oda has already been planning to betray my family and take over my court.  Since the leak, all of my communications with them have been cut and my spies have found nothing.”  He ignores the sympathetic faces; the only thing he sees is red.  “So no, Prime Minister Curtin, it is a legitimate threat.  And if I were you,” he said as he turned back to the rest of them, “I would call home to make damn sure no one I cared about has gone missing.”  He sits back down, lacking any sort of grace or composure befitting a lord and attempting to soothe his anger, only to find himself in an internal cocktail of rage, hopelessness, and loss.  Tomyris watches him closely.  He's already given up.

Another wave of uncomfortable quiet passes through the room. Poundmaker raises his hand slowly, and due to the chaos, it takes Helena a minute to understand what he's asking for.

“Poundmaker, you are officially recognized.”

“Thank you.  If there is nothing further to discuss, I wish to make a motion to bring the matter of not handing Catherine over to a vote.  One's life should not be determined by the whims of a shouting match.”

“Motion heard.  Any seconds?”

Pedro feels a vibration from his pocket.  One new message from Attila.

“I second the motion,” Catherine replies while holding her hand up.

Helena sighs.  The moment that everyone has been waiting for and yet never wanted to come to pass.  Even Catherine was apprehensive. There was no indication as to how well her gamble would pay off. “Voting via console will be available momentarily.  Once again, I will remind everyone of the voting rules:  India may cast a single ballot, governors may not vote, and once a choice has been selected and confirmed, it cannot be revoked.  Because of the severity of the motion's nature, the option of 'No vote' is unavailable.”  She pauses for a moment, sitting down.  “ The motion, just to be clear, is to spare Catherine from the demand.  I implore you all to be sure of your ballot choice.  And think very carefully before casting your vote.”

Predictably, there were a few who answered right away, both in favor and against Catherine.  But for many of them the decision does not come so easily.  Hands are seen close choosing an answer, and yet hesitation grips many of them.  If Helena is being honest with herself, she's not certain she could come to terms with picking either option.  Submissions pop up on Reyna's console, just within Helena's peripheral vision.  The advisor watches it closely, oblivious to Catherine looking at her for any confirmation as to her fate.  Jadwiga and Philip were both in prayer, Peter, less obviously so.   Hojo had a thousand mile stare that put Tomyris in a state of worry, damning the fact she couldn't be near him.  Many others were dejected as well.  Was there even a right answer to this?

The obvious results came in first—Cleopatra, Trajan, Jadwiga, Philip—but more than a few surprises.  The tallies were neck in neck, finally reaching in a tie. Someone hasn't voted yet. She scanned the list to see who it was, and to her shock...

Pericles.

She waited for the name to receive a result.

It did.

Helena composed herself but she knew better.  There was no way to brace for something like this.  She rises from her seat, ready to deliver the results.

“The motion of refusal to turn over Catherine...”

The tension can be cut with a knife.

“Passes eighteen to seventeen.  At this time, do what you must to establish security within your borders.  We will reconvene tomorrow to send the refusal.”  She lingers for but a moment, still not sure if this is reality or a nightmare, “Meeting adjourned.”