Maine's Dream Shoukan 1977

Ep. 9 | Exsurge Domine

The metallic doorknob of the shiny hardwood door twisted open after a few knocks. The opening door revealed Graham with hefty papers belonging. After excusing himself into the Presidential Office, Carter, who was on the phone, nodded at him as a sign of acknowledgment.  The cold morning lights rayed through the window frame onto the polished marble floor, where a well-made colored US crest was prominently displayed in the middle.

While patiently waiting by the desk, Graham's eyes briskly gazed around. The immaculate office was almost in void of decoration, indicating that he had recently moved in. Usually, he could just turn in the reports, but Graham felt the need to personally check out the new president on available opportunities.

Placing down the handset on the phone's port, Carter looked at him with a mix of apprehension on his face. "Oh, Good Morning. Who are you and what you're here for?"

"Graham Hodworth, Director of the CIA, sir. The new report is done," Graham replied trepidiously with his eyebrows lazed down, conveying a feeling of wariness at the recent inscrutable international politics. The folder with the CIA crest is then placed as he prepares his words.

"Go on," Carter casually prompted as if he were talking to his friend, turning his chair to grab the ice-cold coffee made by his secretary.

"SAD reported that of all 300 cases of operation conducted: 40% had encountered cryptic; 51% had engaged with them and 2% had experienced casualties. Observation Audits also suggested that the Cryptic is capable of sophisticated behaviors. In one case, they once organized an ambush on our patrol with the timing and phasing of arranged attacks. Dealing with them is proved to be problematic if not cautiously handled," he read an excerpt.

"So far, efforts in aiding the Native hit a dead end and unprogressive. Initially, we hesitated with further investment until the NRD made a profound discovery."

"What is it?" He took a little sip of his Americano with increasing interest, intrigued to hear more. In Carter's hand were photographs gallery of different types of cryptic taken on their shot-dead corpses. Their appearance would range from a twisted mixture of different animals to a new complete embodiment of non-existing creatures assembled in indistinguishable ways. Among them, one would stand out the most, is the Demon Lord, Nosgorath. The Investigations had been done and found it to be the mastermind behind all the troubles caused.

"CIA's Natural Resources Division reported that an estimated 152.7 billion barrels of Proven Underdeveloped (PUD) natural crude oil reserves are scattered beneath the Philades continent. Of which 60% are in potential cryptic-infested areas and the rest under Parpaldian territory. Technically, we can legally claim the land for ourselves via settlement investing. The Parpaldian had been trying although given their technology, it is still not enough for them to effectively control the area."

Carter's eyes opened wide in disbelief; what he had just heard could be a turning point in this dire situation. Whether it was the Energy Crisis or his popularity, the benefits from the oil would curb it all. Unable to hold his excitement, the old man exclaimed out of surprise, "Oh, isn't this good news?"

"Certainly, sir. We can present our plan to Congress for budget approval and force authorization. These conditions are necessary for further operations to be commenced. However, given that the Committee has been around, there will be testimony events, and our operations will no longer be covert. Together with our carrier deployment, the Parpaldians may feel too threatened by our increasing presence. There's a risk that the trade negotiations would be hindered by it."

"We must prioritize our nation first, Director. The Diplomacy failed that's why we shifted our stance," he gave his point.

"Anything else?"

"No, sir. I'll go ahead and prepare to transfer the matter to the respective commands now."

—-

A few minutes passed as he walked along the corridor. Upon reaching the lounge, he found General Baker awaiting him on the long sofa. The General politely smiled as soon as their vision met and nodded courteously.

"Good evening, Director," Baker greeted Graham with a bright grin from the veil of smoke. In his left hand held a puffing 6 1/2" fat Maduro cigar.

Surprised, Graham did not expect the JCS secretary to have such a quick ear. "I was about to go to the Pentagon... Guess I can brief you here then..."

"Not now, Director. Leave some room for my rest... I've been running around across America. Perhaps you can fill me in with updates on domestic instead," Baker said with an unending subtle smile. "I've read the copy though; we can get to it after the authorization."

"If you insist..." Graham reluctantly replied. "Well, the Congress part is not a problem. I'm confident that the big money would enthusiastically vote in favor, considering how large and available the oil is. Vice told me that the new cabinet planned to build a nuclear power plant complex in the deserts to reduce strains on fossil fuel reserves."

"Carter sure knew his opportunity. He used the crisis to justify the nuclear alternatives. But in my opinion, I don't think America can archive Autarky. Our economic scale is just too big,"  he commented, referring to the National Retribution Act. Multiple days passed, and it only achieved minimal success in fulfilling its purpose.

Baker's expression then shifted to a more concerned look, conveying his serious thoughts. "You know... this hawkish trend is everywhere. Hell, Washington's speaker even told me that both the Dem and Rep press goaded him for more pressure on Parpaldia." He recalled the headlines.

"That's no wonder. Even after our carrier deployment, only restricted trade is achieved. Their imports quota wouldn't be enough to vent our goods, nor will their ports be able to handle it. The public is tired of talking... so am I. The recent polls showed that the majority of the voters demanded further military action placed on them."

Baker paused, "Why did the Gunboat Diplomacy fail? There must be a root to their confidence."

Just as they were discussing their matters, one of the employees turned up the volume on the television. The big headline stood out on the news screen.

Third round of negotiation held on trade, Mirishial Empire steps in as the Broker. U.S. blamed for escalation at Esthirant and Seattle.

As the bold and captivating headline screamed from the screen, two men sat in great disbelief, completely baffled by the updates. The further they watched, the more frustrating it got. Baker fisted his hand tightly, knowing that this was the beginning of something negative.

"How could they do this!" Baker said with an enraging heart. He feared that the natural imbalance of power, currently in America's favor, might be dismissed by a Mirishial judiciary unintimidated by Gunboat Diplomacy, which could even be biased toward Parpaldia in the negotiation, and there are many reasons to believe so.

"That must be their attempt to maintain the Old World Order," Graham murmured, breaking the silence.

Baker exhaled a cloud of smoke and nodded in agreement. "These Ancient Regime monarch eppies sure like to make things difficult."

"Perhaps it's a response to our recent assertiveness," Graham speculated. "The Old World might see us as a potential threat to the delicate balance they've maintained. It's a clear message."

Baker leaned back, his eyes fixed on the television screen. "I know, I know... let's hope that they'll not make it worse."

(This New World seems to be worse day by day. What's the cause of such an alien diplomatic stance? Who the hell is Mirishial anyway?) he wondered.

"Well... let's hope that our talk through Mirishial will go smoothly. Our carrier deployment was a big diplomatic mess." the Director remarked.