Aetherland

Chapter 6: Chrysalis Reactor (part2)

Filled with anger and concern, Ash makes several urgent calls to find out who's responsible for the construction. His frustration mounting as he struggles to get satisfying answers. Government officials seems evasive, their responses vague and unhelpful. The more he presses, the more they seems to clam up. He finds himself swearing under his breath, his anger growing with each unanswered call.

After a relentless series of inquiries, a fellow official has finally confessed that everything was part of the Kaiser's orders. Ash's face is contorted with disbelief as he hangs up the phone, the weight of the revelation settling upon his shoulders. Their carefully crafted non-answers have only confirmed his suspicions.

Ash's hand tightens around the receiver. "Commander Elsa, Report!" he barks into the mouthpiece, his voice clipped and precise.

The exasperated sigh that crackles over the comms, a grim acknowledgement of a predictable equation. More boots on the ground, more flags burn, more stones are thrown – it all feeds into the grim calculus of asymmetrical warfare. The more they crack down, the more fuel they pour on the fire. Elsa knows this dance intimately.

"High Commissioner. I've deployed riot suppression units. Situation is currently classified as a Level Two disturbance. Scattered pockets of dissent, flag burnings, the usual rabble-rousing. They’re calling us war criminals, naturally. Nothing we can’t handle, but…" Elsa's voice trails off, then returns, edged with steel. "Has the Chancellor… has he announced any new directives?"

She doesn’t need to spell it out. New directives often mean escalating force, playing right into the hands of the resistance. Each casualty on their side isn't just a loss; it is a recruiting poster, a rallying cry, a donation drive in some foreign capital. Especially Everlasting Eden ally; the East Concord. That behemoth of a communist state looming across the eastern borders, continues to funnel support to the pockets of resistance that refuses to be extinguished.

Ash's response is firm but cautious. "No new statements yet. I suggest to prioritize de-escalation tactics. We want to avoid any incidents that could escalate the situation. We need to document all interactions and report any escalation attempts immediately. We need to manage public perception carefully." 

Public perception isn't just about calming nerves; it is about denying the resistance oxygen. Every image of Federation brutality, every news report of civilian deaths, is a victory for them, no matter how small the tactical gain. It reinforces the narrative of the Fusion Federation as an imperialistic aggressor, a narrative the Red Concord actively promotes. "I'll inform you immediately if the Chancellor makes any pronouncements. I want this fire extinguished before it becomes a wildfire."

Elsa’s voice, sharper now, edged with steel, confirmed receipt. "Understood, High Commissioner. I will maintain a secure comms channel and provide hourly SITREPs. You'll have eyes on the ground, cousin." The last word is delivered with a dry, almost sarcastic inflection. "We're also monitoring comms chatter for any signs of organized resistance."

"Affirmative, Commander." Ash pauses, concern crossing his hardened features. "And Elsa… maintain operational security. We can't afford any… leaks." Leaks of information or leaks of blood. The international vultures will be circling, waiting for any sign of weakness, any excuse to offer 'humanitarian aid' and 'support the oppressed'. Aid that, they both know, will be rifles and explosives smuggled in.

"Of course, High Commissioner. Out." The line clicks dead. Ash replaces the receiver, his gaze fixed on the strategic map displayed on the wall. The red markers indicating the protests pulse ominously. This is more than just a disturbance. This is a threat to stability, and it needs to be crushed, swiftly and efficiently. But efficiency, he knows, has a cruel paradox. Crushing them too hard, too visibly, might be exactly what they want. It is a twisted game where restraint can be strength, and overwhelming force can be self-inflicted defeat.