Remnant - XIX

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Requested By : Gib

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Once completed, the installation was a thirty story tower, with a rounded base set in the center of the plateau. A plateau that he himself had seen cleared and leveled at the start of construction, for a perfectly symmetrical base to work from. The construction rose up with curved, smooth, flat walls on all sides for twenty stories before it began to taper, smoothly, up to a central apex no wider than a single large room that could fit a few dozen Faunus. Along its curved surface were flat platforms that stood out on bare struts, filled with antennae and dishes, all the way to a massive one at the cap which turned slowly, seeking signals automatically. It was mainly constructed of cyber-formed steel, manufactured to his specifications by his Insecticons, but long stretches of window-lined, Faunus sized corridors twinkled in the sunlight.

Most of it was, in fact, built for the Faunuse to traverse - they were now chiefly in charge of the structure, if not its systems.

Those he still had a couple hundred Faunus studying for but, for now, a secondary control and monitoring system hub in its heart, manned by his Insecticons, would do.

At the plateau's edge were tall walls, only a third as high as Menagerie's but dotted by the same cylindrical towers and energy cannons as it. Behind the wall, he had segmented each wide corner of the defended zone into different uses. The first was a large hydro-reserve, half full on one side with salt water and half full on the other with fresh. A large building sat in the center, splitting them apart with a thick wall lined on one side by desalination units and storage silos full of salt, and on the other by large pipes that dumped the fresh water into the aquifer. A long pipe ran from the salt water side down, along the far edge of New Harmonex and all the way to the sea where pumps pulled in water.

Fresh water, salt for flavor, and a sewage system he had already installed throughout the city which looped up to a reclamation center tied into the water supply system itself.

The other corner closest to New Harmonex had been re-soiled with fertile soil-replacer mixed into what dirt had already been there. The enrichment used the leaves, roots and wood-waste of the trees cleared for the city's construction predominantly, as well as food-waste from Menagerie itself. The soil had been tilled and retilled again and again to vitalize the soil over the course of the entire construction period, and now he could already see greens sprouting. They lay in the gentle shadow of raised walkways, built over a network of irrigation pipes that ran all along the fields, and were crossed by dirt roads that would come in handy when the harvest was ready.

A harvest that would easily feed Menagerie, New Harmonex, and could feed an entirely new city besides.

The other two were simpler. The first was an array of hundreds of circular solar panels fitted into the optimum space inside the walls, with a dozen feet of space from the walls. That space was filled by tall wind-turbines, drawing what they could from the left-over space to reduce what could be reduced of the inherent inefficiency. Their raw power was distributed into large, blocky systems of power translators and capacitors which rendered the raw energy into storable, usable forms. As well as Energon, which fed himself and his Insecticons.

And could - would, undoubtedly - feed many, many more…

"It's amazing…" He turned, looking at the wall behind him that stood level with his own optics, and met Sienna's gaze. She flushed when she realized he was looking at her, glared, and looked back at the farms stretched out beneath her. "I-I mean, it's…"

When she was quiet for a while, he cocked his head and asked, "You cannot find an excuse. Can you?"

"Nope." She sighed, shrugged, and took a seat on the edge of the wall, Scroll in hand. She typed something out on it and, a moment later, it chimed quietly. "Less than five seconds delay, all the way in Menagerie…"

"Indeed." He had already run his own tests, and knew the high-speed communications stretched out to the midpoint of the Badlands, as well as all the way to the edge of the Dark Mountains as well. "Soon, all of the continent will be under our full, direct control."

Her Scroll pinged again, and Sienna added, "It can reach the southern tip of Anima's great mountain range…"

"The desert?" He ventured.

"Mhm." She nodded, "It's mostly empty, Mistral has better land, but sometimes people head out there. Usually on their way to the coastline, where they hope to build a new life."

"I see." He paused to think for a moment, and then pressed, "You are running smuggling through the area."

"I am, yeah." She nodded, "They bring supplies they can steal south, to the coast, and further West, to where my ships can range without arousing suspicion."

"Of the smuggling, at least."

"Well, yeah." She chuckled, "My ships arouse normal suspicion wherever the hell they go."

"I see." He paused for several more moments, thinking, before he asked, "The desert stretched all the way to near Mistral, does it not?"

"Up there it's more… Badlands." Sienna shrugged and then, as though she knew where his thoughts lay, she added, "It's also not empty. There are forts all along the peaks of the mountains there, overlooking it. And a few glass-making and fishing villages scattered along its coasts. Protected by their own garrisons."

"I see."

"Yeah." Sienna sighed, "Their naval academy is there too. Out on the tip of the peninsula, scattered in segments along the furthest eastern coast and the couple of islands there."

"Unfortunate," He sighed, "Such would have been a valuable place to lay claim to, if clime and Grimm had kept all others at bay."

"Yeah, but…" Sienna shrugged dismissively, watching a pair of Insecticons march along the paths through the farms, spreading fresh fertilizer and scanning for weeds that Shockwave's salvaged drones would see to as they were found. "Mistral is right there. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave their flank open like that."

"I suppose not." That would have been far too easy, to be fair. And he should have known fate would not offer him such kindness.

"The factory is coming along, by the by."

"Good." He rumbled, "As long as productions hold, we can begin remote-construction of radar and communication relays across Menagerie."

"About that…"

"Yes?" Surely, she could not possibly disapprove of his plans.

"I, uh, I need your help with something I'm planning." At that he turned to face her, arms unfolding to hang at his side.

Part of it was surprise, that she would so blatantly ask for help. From Shockwave, or from anyone else either. Another was worry, about what could be so great a need that she would do so. The rest, though, was merely curiosity on what could possibly be so important.

"What do you need?"

"I need you to teach my men how to build smaller relays like that." She said, pointing at one of the many dishes and antennae that dotted the communications hub, required to manage the volume of signals it was required to manage. "Ones we can hid."

"Across Mistral?"

"No." She shook her head, "Across Vale, and into Vacuo."

"Vacuo and Vale…"

"Yeah." She nodded, face grim, "Word is, Atlas is set on escalating this."

"This… What?"

"Everything, Shockwave." She said, "The whole damn war. Atlas is pushing to turn the whole damn war up to eleven."

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When he had first reached out, the Kingdom of Vale's Council had rejected his request for a meeting, much less for him to come to the Kingdom to meet. Even now, the latter hadn't been granted. He had lodged official requests, which had been denied, for days. Then he had lodged a protest with the Valean Embassy in Atlas. Which had been accepted with a smile, a nod, and a promise it would be filed right away. Which he knew by way of his own assets in the Embassy had been true.

Still nothing…

But Atlas would not be so easily ignored and waved away, not while he had his hand on the wheel. And so, he had reached out once again. This time, however, he had done so domestically.

Half of a week.

Vale had lasted half of a week of his militarily appropriating their direct Dust imports from Atlas before lodging a protest with the Atlesian Embassy in Vale. He had ignored their complaints for several tense days while policing steel and stone exports as well. They had demanded to know why Dust was being policed, and he had explained the confusion simply.

'Due to Vale's unwillingness to speak to its allies, Atlas is shouldering a heavier burden in the war effort'.

That, at last, had aroused a proper response.

Now, he sat in his office, elbows resting on the table and fingers laced together while he watched the icon on the screen in front of him spin. It took time to relay the signals needed for the connection, out from Atlas itself to a relay on the coast, and then across a series of buoys to Vale's coast and on along a series of towers to the Kingdom itself. Once connected, there was only a twelve second lag between what was sent and when it arrived. But the connecting period itself was… Painful.

Something to turn Watts on, perhaps.

He was excellent with networking.

Finally, the system connected, and he looked at the Council of Vale. Smiling pleasantly, he asked, "And how are you today, Councilors?"

"We can skip the pleasantries, General." The oldest man, Councilor Foil, grunted. He was old and wrinkled, with pale skin and a long white beard. He wore his hair wildly, hanging loosely around his shoulders, and squinted so hard Ironwood couldn't even see his eyes. "You know why we called."

"Do I now?"

"Of course you do." He snapped, "Don't be a horse's-"

"What Councilor Foil means to say, is that playing coy is neither useful here, and to your… Style." Councilor Cinnabar said. She was as old as her fellow Councilor, but with dark skin and vibrant scarlet hair. She had as many wrinkles as well, but her eyes glinted, sharp and startlingly blue, as she stared at him. "I believe we'd both prefer to simply get to our task, hm?"

"Agreed." Their third, Councilor Vanille, said. He was a more middle-aged man, with dark brown hair and eyes, and wore a simple, well-pressed, black suit. According to his agents, he was also the dirtiest of the three of them, with ties to a notorious crime circuit in Vale.

Useful information, if it came down to needing it.

"Getting to business sounds more than acceptable to me." Ironwood grunted, leaning back in his seat and letting his hands drop to his desk. Drumming a finger on its surface, he added coyly, "I do have business to attend to, after all. We are at war."

"I assure you," Vanille ground out, "We are all aware."

"Are you?" Ironwood snapped hotly, temper racing ahead of his brain's ability to contain it. The other man's brows shot up and, now that it was too late to lean back from it, he leaned in. "I only ask because, if you're aware we're in the middle of a war, it makes ignoring me far, far more foolish. We are allies, after all."

"Are we?" Vanille countered more icily, "I wasn't aware allies pirated each others' trade."

"Is it really piracy if it still belongs to my Kingdom?"

"To your Kingdom's business, General." Foil countered, "Be careful you do not confuse what is private with what is your office's."

"Policing industrial goods for an ongoing war effort is perfectly legal within Atlas, Councilor." If the Council voted to approve such a measure, at least.

But such was a small aspect of the long list of clauses controlling the practice, and he doubted that the Valean Councilors would know it. And he knew they couldn't guarantee they hadn't voted such measures in with enough confidence to make an accusation. Making an accusation of that severity would be a massive political faux pas, and far too large to risk without the proof needed to know that it was true.

Even if it was, in fact, true.

"Those goods were purchased by Valean businesses-"

"But, until arrival and delivery, as per inter-Kingdom contract law, they are still the property of the businesses themselves." Ironwood countered, "And, thus, our laws for appropriations apply onto them."

"Let's get to the heart of the issue." Vanille sighed tiredly, "What do you want, Ironwood?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Vale requires these supplies to function." Vanille explained simply, and far too bluntly for a politician. Unless Ironwood's gambit had pushed Vale far further, and harder, than he had thought they would. Quietly, he went on, "Power is already being rationed in the poorer districts, and security is faltering across the wall due to a lack of supplies. If this continues, innocent people will die."

"I see…" So they had been pushed to the brink, then… An unmanaged, unregulated system was prone to such collapses if sudden shocks were applied to it, he knew. Theoretically. But to strike it so hard, so fast…

It was excellent.

"In the interests of Vale's people, then, I will be very, very blunt." Ironwood started, clasping his hands and resting them on the desk in front of him, and smiling warmly. "I simply request that Vale open its frontier to Atlesian deployment, as per our treaties, and resume more steady support in Faunus relocation."

"Oh, come off it! You have no right to our inland regions!"

"We're already doing that!"

"You would hold children hostage?!"

"I happen to know Vale is not enforcing its strictest possible search and seizure laws. Rather, the police are being far too lax. Faunus live in the poorer districts, funneling supplies and resources to agents of Menagerie entrenched in your city." Ironwood countered Cinnabar first, relying on information gained from his own spies once more. Spies which had been very useful of late, enough to put him on edge, though not enough to make him cease their exploitation. "I also know that, like Mistral, tracts of rough terrain are being used for smuggling those very resources out to Menagerie. My inland fortifications, alongside combatting the local Grimm, will curtail these problems."

"How could you possibly know about any alleged smuggling?" Vanille countered sharply, "And how dare you imply we cannot police it ourselves."

"Oh, I believe Vale perfectly capable of doing so." Ironwood countered, meeting the man's hard eyes with his own cool gaze. "Even if some are… Understandably motivated not to do so, and not merely to Human organizations' ends."

He saw Vanille realize what Ironwood was implying and flinch, ever so slightly, and knew then and there the man had backed down. The way he set his jaw, sighed, and leaned back told it all well enough.

"I also know that Vale's military is underfunded, and unable to protect its outlying regions." Ironwood countered, turning to Foil and going on, "Atlas will alleviate that tension. And we are willing to supply our special, advanced shield generators to a handful of larger Valean villages as well. Under my engineers' deployment, of course, which does require their stationing in inland Vale."

"But…"

"I'm sure you wouldn't deny Vale such protections." Ironwood pressed quietly, "After all, what would the citizens think of that? You turning down a free offer of protection from your ally, for no apparent reason?"

'And right before elections' he left unsaid, though he could see the man heard the words regardless.

"I… Suppose that would be of use."

"I am also willing to authorize expansive mining and refinery reforms, to lower the cost of production of Dust and industrial goods." He promised finally, turning to Cinnabar, "And I am willing to open trade negotiations for Atlas' nationalized mines as well, in a… More limited capacity."

That put a spark behind Cinnabar's eyes. She was the head of a large industrial firm, which managed much of the housing development ongoing in Vale on a nearly constant basis. Cheaper supplies from a source only she could even espeak to would only enfranchise her conglomerate, and all she would need to do is buy a handful of smaller companies and use them as secondaries to purchase the goods to sell to her primary company. Presuming she didn't simply employ them for the labor directly, and collect funds through them.

Threatened, coerced, and incentivized - Vale's Council would agree to his demands.

But, to save them face, he stood and grunted, "I will dispatch emergency provisions to Vale immediately but, forgive me, I have to be going. Pressing business, I'm afraid."

The lag was twelve seconds long, but he only waited eleven - long enough to see them turn resignedly to each other in reaction - before he ended the call.

Diplomacy, as it turned out, was little different to a combat zone.

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