Summoning America

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– –

Morric nodded curtly. "Aye, sir. Initiating contact now."

 

As Morric worked to establish the connection, Venstrom felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. The very thought of reaching out to the enemy, of admitting that the Gra Valkas Empire might not be able to win this war, was like a bitter poison on his tongue. He had spent his entire career believing in the superiority of Gra Valkan military might, in the inevitability of their victory. And now, here he was, preparing to ask for terms.

 

But what choice did he have? The Americans had proven themselves to be a far more formidable adversary than anyone had anticipated. Their technology, their tactics, their sheer firepower... it was all beyond anything the Gra Valkans had ever faced before. If he continued to press the attack, he would be sending his men to their deaths, and for what? A chance at glory? A place in the history books?

 

No, he had a duty to his fleet, to the brave men who had fought and bled under his command. If there was a chance to save even a fraction of them, to spare them the horrors of a war they could not win, then he had to take it – even if it meant swallowing his pride and facing the scorn of his superiors.

 

"Admiral, I have the EDI forces on the line," Morric reported.

Venstrom took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead. He picked up the handset, his grip tight enough to turn his knuckles white. "This is Fleet Admiral Venstrom of the Gra Valkan Second Conquest Fleet, requesting a parley with your commanding officer."

 

There was a crackle of static, then a gruff voice came over the line. "Ach, Admiral Venstrom. This is Admiral Flintarm of the Mykal Defense Fleet. Ye've got some nerve, callin' for a parley after the poundin' ye've given us."

 

Venstrom closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of his decision bearing down on him like a physical force. "Admiral Flintarm, I understand your skepticism. But the situation has changed. We... I am prepared to discuss terms for a ceasefire and possible negotiations with the American fleet commander."

 

There was a pause, shorter this time, but still heavy with meaning. When Flintarm spoke again, his voice had lost some of its edge. "Is that so? And what brought about this change of heart, if ye don't mind me askin'?"

 

Venstrom's jaw clenched, a flash of anger rising in his chest. But he pushed it down, knowing that Flintarm's question was fair. Even if it was out of mockery or sarcasm, he just had to suck it up for the sake of his men. "Recent events have made it clear that continuing this conflict will only lead to more unnecessary loss of life. I am seeking a way to end it, to find a resolution that might spare both our forces further bloodshed."

 

Flintarm was silent for a moment, and Venstrom could almost hear the gears turning in the man’s head. "Aye, I can understand that. We've all seen our share of loss in this war. If ye're serious about a ceasefire, about negotiatin' with the Americans, then I'm willin' to pass along yer message."

 

Venstrom felt a flicker of hope in his chest, even as the weight of his decision continued to bear down on him. "I am serious, Admiral Flintarm. I am prepared to order my forces to stand down, effective immediately. We will cease all offensive operations and maintain our current positions pending the outcome of negotiations."

 

Flintarm grunted, a sound that might have been approval or simply acknowledgement. "That's a good start, Admiral. I'll relay that to the Americans and let ye know their response. But I'll need ye to make it official, send over the formal request for a ceasefire through the proper channels. Ye know, dottin' the i's and crossin' the t's."

 

"Understood, Admiral Flintarm. I will have my staff draft the formal request immediately. You can expect it within the hour."

 

"Aye, I'll keep an eye out for it. And Admiral... I hope ye're right about this. I hope this is the beginnin' of the end of this bloody war. Flintarm out." 
As the connection ended, Venstrom slumped back in his chair, feeling as if he had aged a decade in the span of a few minutes. He had taken the first step, made the overture for peace. But the hardest part was still ahead. He knew that there would be those in the Gra Valkan High Command – one man, specifically – who would see his actions as a betrayal, a sign of weakness. The foolish Chancellor would rather see the fleet burn than admit defeat, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

– –

US Navy Fifth Fleet
CSG-2, USS Dwight D. Eisenhower

Admiral Samuel Locklear leaned back in his chair as he listened to his executive officer, Captain James Wheeler, describe the pristine beaches and crystal-clear waters of Otaheit.

 

"I'm telling you, Sam, it's paradise on Earth – well, Elysia I suppose," James said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "The perfect spot for some well-deserved R&R."

 

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "You make it sound mighty tempting, James. But you know as well as I do that we've got a job to do first."

 

James grinned, undeterred. "C’mon, Admiral. The crew's been working their asses off. They deserve a break, and so do you."

Sam had to admit, the idea of a little downtime was appealing. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of activity, with the Fifth Fleet constantly on the move, responding to one crisis after another. The Gra Valkan threat had kept them all on their toes, but now, with the enemy fleet on the brink of surrender, it seemed like maybe, just maybe, they could afford to take a breath.

 

"Tell you what," Sam said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk. "Let's get through this Gra Valkan business, make sure everything's squared away, and then we'll talk about shore leave."

 

James nodded, his expression turning serious. "Speaking of that, any word from Admiral Flintarm?"

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, and Lieutenant Emily Nakamura, Sam's communications officer, poked her head in. "Admiral Locklear, sir, we've just received a message from Admiral Flintarm. It's about the Gra Valkans."

 

Sam sat up straight, his relaxed demeanor evaporating. "Come in, Lieutenant. Let's have a look."

 

Emily entered the room, handing Sam a printed copy of the message. He scanned it quickly, his eyebrows rising as he took in the contents. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered.

 

James leaned forward, curious. "What is it, sir?"

 

Sam looked up, a wry smile on his face. "It seems our friend Admiral Venstrom has finally come to his senses. He's requesting a ceasefire and negotiations for surrender."

 

James let out a low whistle. "About damn time. Those Gra Valkans have been a thorn in our side for far too long."

 

Sam nodded, his mind already racing ahead to the next steps. "Agreed. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. We need to handle this carefully, make sure everything's done by the book."

 

He turned to Emily. "Lieutenant, get me a secure line to Admiral Flintarm. I want to discuss the details of this surrender request."

 

"Aye, sir," Emily said, snapping a crisp salute before hurrying out of the room.

 

Sam leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he considered the implications of Venstrom's message. The Gra Valkan Fleet had been a formidable adversary for the Muans and Mirishials, their ships and weapons advanced far beyond anything the EDI forces had encountered before. But in the end, there was always a bigger fish, and the U.S. Navy was the biggest one around.

From what he heard of the Fourth and Fifth Conquest Fleets, it seemed like most of the Gra Valkan admirals weren’t the idiots he had initially made them out to be – Venstrom especially. It was a bit disappointing to see him surrender without so much as a fight, but he had to give credit where it was due: Venstrom was a smart man who knew when to fold. Hopefully, the Third Conquest Fleet sailing behind Venstrom would follow suit.

Sam glanced at James, who was watching him with a knowing expression. "Looks like that shore leave is just around the corner," he said, a hint of optimism in his voice.

 

James just grinned, shaking his head. "Just a bit longer, sir. But hey, at least we know Otaheit will still be there when we're done."

 

"Ayup. Well, let's get to work. We've got a surrender to negotiate," Admiral Locklear said, his voice filled with determination as he strode onto the bridge of the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower.

"Admiral on deck!" a young ensign called out, and the bridge crew snapped to attention.

 

"As you were," Locklear said, nodding to the crew as he took his seat.

Looking around, it seemed everyone was ready. His staff judge advocate, Captain Amanda Singh, and his intelligence officer, Commander Michael Harlowe, were already present. He found himself by the communications station, hand resting on the radio transceiver as he prepared for the upcoming negotiations.

As the appointed time approached, Locklear took a moment to collect his thoughts. He knew that the negotiations would be a delicate balancing act, requiring a mix of firmness and diplomacy. The Gra Valkans were a proud people, and he would need to be careful not to unnecessarily antagonize them, even in defeat.

 

"Admiral, we have Admirals Flintarm, D'Arnell, and Venstrom on the line," Nakamura reported, her hand poised over the radio controls.

 

"Very well," Locklear said, picking up the transceiver. "Patch them through."

The radio crackled to life, the voices of the other admirals filtering through the speakers. Locklear noted the presence of background noise on each channel, a reminder of the different environments and circumstances each participant was broadcasting from.

 

"Gentlemen," Locklear began, his voice calm and measured. "Thank you for joining this conference. As you know, Admiral Venstrom has requested a ceasefire and negotiations for the surrender of the Second Conquest Fleet. I have asked you here today to discuss the terms of that surrender and to ensure that it is conducted in accordance with all relevant laws and protocols."

 

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "Before we begin, I would like to introduce the members of my team. With me today are Captain Amanda Singh, my staff judge advocate, and Commander Michael Harlowe, my intelligence officer. They will be assisting me throughout these negotiations."

 

Locklear took a moment to adjust his headset, ensuring that his voice would be heard clearly by all parties. "I want to emphasize that our goal here is to achieve a fair and equitable resolution to this conflict, one that respects the interests and concerns of all parties involved. I am committed to conducting these negotiations in good faith, and I ask that you do the same."

 

He turned his attention to the Gra Valkan channel. "Admiral Venstrom, as the party requesting the surrender, I would ask that you begin by stating your intention and outlining any specific terms or conditions you wish to propose regarding the Second Conquest Fleet under your command. Admiral Flintarm, Admiral D'Arnell, and I will then discuss these terms and offer our own proposals. Is this acceptable to everyone?"

 

There was a moment of silence on the line, broken only by the faint crackle of static. Then, Admiral Flintarm's gruff voice came through. "Aye, Admiral Locklear. That's a fair way to proceed. I'm ready to hear what the Gra Valkan has to say."

 

"Agreed," Admiral D'Arnell chimed in. "I believe we all share the goal of bringing this conflict to a swift and satisfactory conclusion."

 

Locklear nodded, though he knew the gesture couldn't be seen over the radio. "Very well. Admiral Venstrom, the floor is yours."

 

There was another pause, no doubt the man behind the radio hesitating. Locklear could almost picture the Gra Valkan admiral gathering his thoughts, preparing to make the most important declaration of his military career.

 

"Admiral Locklear, Admiral Flintarm, Admiral D'Arnell," Venstrom began, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. "I, Fleet Admiral Falke Venstrom of the Gra Valkan Second Conquest Fleet, hereby request a ceasefire and and offer the surrender of all forces under my command, subject to the following conditions."

 

He paused, and Locklear could hear the rustling of papers over the radio, as if Venstrom was consulting his notes. "Firstly, I request that all Gra Valkan personnel be treated in accordance with your ‘Geneva Convention’. While I recognize that we are not signatories and that this convention may not strictly apply given our current circumstances on Elysia, I appeal to the spirit of humanity and fairness that underpins such agreements. This includes providing adequate food, shelter, and medical care, and abstaining from any acts of retribution or abuse."

Locklear exchanged a look with Wheeler. It was a surprise to hear those words come from the radio. It appeared that Venstrom had done his research, to the best of his ability. It was a respectable proposition – one not so farfetched that the Muans and Mirishials would decline. 

 

"Secondly," Venstrom continued, "I ask that the ships and equipment of the Second Conquest Fleet be treated as the property of the Gra Valkas Empire, to be returned or accounted for in any future peace negotiations between our governments. I understand that some vessels may need to be temporarily interned or disarmed, but I seek assurances that they will not be permanently seized or destroyed."

 

Locklear listened carefully, making mental notes of each point. These were not unreasonable requests in his eyes, but he couldn’t say the same for Admirals Flintarm and D’Arnell. Both Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire had taken quite the beating. They’d probably gun for at least some form of compensation.

 

"Finally," Venstrom said, "I request that my officers and crew be allowed to surrender with honor, and that their service and sacrifices be recognized and respected by all parties. These are brave men who have fought valiantly for their country, and they deserve to be treated with dignity, even in defeat."

 

There was a moment of silence on the line as Venstrom's words sank in. Then, Admiral Flintarm's voice crackled over the radio. "Those are fair points, Admiral Venstrom. I cannae say I agree with all of them, but I respect yer right to propose terms. Admiral Locklear, what say you?"

 

Locklear leaned forward, choosing his words carefully. "Admiral Venstrom, thank you for outlining your conditions. I believe they provide a good starting point for our discussions. Admiral D'Arnell, do you have any initial thoughts or responses?"

 

"I concur with Admiral Flintarm," D'Arnell said. "Admiral Venstrom's proposals are not entirely unexpected, and I daresay we should be able to find common ground. Of course, the devil is in the details, as they say. We'll need to work through the specifics of each point to ensure that our parties' interests are adequately addressed."

 

"Agreed," Locklear said. "Let's take each condition in turn and see if we can reach a consensus. Admiral Venstrom, please feel free to provide any additional clarification or justification as we proceed. Captain Singh, I'll be relying on your legal expertise to ensure that any agreements we reach are in line with international law and military protocols."

 

"Understood, Admiral," Singh responded crisply.