#civilized asks

“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...”