16:55 — 12.07.2047 — Nexus / Politburo
The Politburo convened once more to assess and analyze the latest developments.On the agenda were the humanitarian intervention in the Commune and the escalating situations on the southern and eastern fronts.
In addition, intelligence reports from the State Security Directorate had been confirmed:the United Stations were supplying weapons, equipment, and volunteers via the surface — a proxy war in which they officially kept their hands clean while steadily undermining the Union.Within the normally rational minds of the Politburo, the desire for retaliation now burned hot. Covert operations, sabotage, assassinations, and disinformation campaigns were suddenly in high demand.
Mechanical calculating cylinders clicked and snapped as estimates were run through practiced motions. Relevant dossiers were hastily distributed among the functionaries. Above all, they awaited the military reports of the Council of Defense:How many wounded, how many invalids, how many dead.How many tons of supplies, ammunition, and materiel had been lost to combat and attrition.How much economic, human, and social capital this war was consuming.How much of the Union's morale, ideology, and vision for the future would have to be sacrificed.And at what point the cost would outweigh the benefit — when negotiation might become necessary.Or whether they were all doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past.
The normally orderly and efficient atmosphere was disrupted by emotion.An imbalance of fervor. Voices shouted over one another, whipping each other into fury.
"These republican vermin can go to hell together with their 'United Stations'!"
"Supplying weapons to the Eastern State and the Southern League is a clear provocation!"
"We must destroy their productive forces! Their factories must burn!"
"We should poison their water! Reduce their mushroom farms to ashes! If we starve, then so should they!"
A young woman in the same gray Politburo coat nodded emphatically."That will teach them a lesson! Next time they'll think twice before choosing war!"
Others tried desperately to object.
"If we strike civilian infrastructure, that means total war!"
"Open your eyes — we're already at war!" one of the realists shouted back.
"How can you, as the avant-garde of humanity, even suggest poisoning children?""They are our brothers and sisters! That would be murder of our own flesh and blood!"
"So what?!"
The reports needed no explanation. Everyone instinctively understood what the frontlines and the SSD were telling them.The war against the South was nearly won — until the eastern front flared up.A two-front war, an overload that slowly drained the battered body of the Union of people and resources in deep, dark-red streams.
The civilian targets of the Three-Year Plan were no longer achievable.Now it was about sheer survival.
Retaliatory measures, tempting as they were, could ignite a third front — a fire that might drag the entire Viennese underground into the abyss. Sabotage against the United Stations' industrial base might delay the conflict — or plunge them all straight into hell. Destroying factories would interrupt arms deliveries, but would it be enough? Or did this old enemy require harsher means — less mercy, less empathy?
Should they, or must they, carry out a preventive strike in the name of peace?Cut off the enemy's lifeline before it was too late?Poison their water with cyanide, burn their gardens, cripple their military production with explosives?
Any of it could be the spark that ignited the powder keg.
Yet other urgent matters remained on the agenda — matters that must not be swallowed by the mire of war.
Doctor Bauer attempted to make herself heard amid the chaos, amid the cries for revenge.
"I ask for your attention!" she pleaded, trying in vain to calm the hall."According to reports from our relief units in the Commune, the infection is spreading rapidly. Current lethality stands at approximately eighty-five percent. Patients turn blue and suffocate as purulent fluid fills their lungs.
We were able to evacuate roughly five hundred individuals; approximately one thousand remain on site — among them three hundred infected. The rate of spread is the core problem. That is why we could only bring a limited number into the protected zone."
Shouts erupted immediately.
"That's not our problem! They forfeited their right to help!"
"If they had remained part of the Union, none of this would have happened!"
An older functionary slammed his fist on the table.
"We are wasting resources! Every liter of fuel spent on this operation is missing at the front. Our soldiers are dying while we try to save plague victims!"
Bauer raised her voice, struggling to maintain composure.
"Comrades, I remind you that the Consul personally authorized the humanitarian intervention.
This disease is a threat to all humanity, not just the Commune. We have largely contained the flow of information. We must maintain the quarantine with our troops. The public knows only rumors — just like our enemies. This is precisely why we can act now without major losses. Now is the moment to preserve our humanity!"
"This is a waste of time! We're losing soldiers and equipment — and worst of all, our troops might bring this filth back across our border!"
"We're only losing!" someone shouted from the back rows.
Bauer tried a different approach.
"This operation is not only morally necessary — it is politically strategic.If we help the Communes, we bind them to us long-term. They will owe the Union their survival."
"Let them die!" someone yelled.
A sharp crack echoed through the hall. Silence fell instantly.The smell of tea and hand-rolled cigarettes hung heavy in the air; the hum of light bulbs filled the void.
The Consul stood upright, his right fist clenched.The usually neutral, rigid gaze burned with fury as he fixed his eyes on the man who had openly denied aid. Then his expression settled — anger giving way to resolve.
In a calm, firm voice, he spoke:
"Comrades, I know our situation is dire.The Southern League advances relentlessly, and our forces are being pushed back on the eastern front. Furthermore, food shortages caused by crop failures plague us.
We have had to scale back our goals for improving living conditions.But we must not degenerate. We must not become what we overthrew —an elite concerned only with itself, hoarding wealth."
The functionaries looked away. No one dared to speak.They all knew why he was called the guiding star of humanity — and felt shame for having questioned him.
"No. We are the avant-garde of all humanity.No matter which state they belong to — they are our brothers and sisters.To betray them would be to betray the revolution itself.
And if we do that, humanity becomes a beast — driven by instinct and irrationality, without dignity, without reason.
Our dreams die the day we stop pursuing progress,the day we abandon the pursuit of equality and forget reason.On that day, we become monsters."
He paused. The air was heavy, tense.
"But we — we are the avant-garde. The spearhead of the human era.We are fire, warmth, and light.We advance, scale unseen heights, and behold the valley of the future —a better world for us and our children."
The silence stretched into something that felt like eternity.
"Therefore, it is our logical duty to help all people.We swore this with the blood of heroes.So — long live the Union! Long live our ideals! Long live humanity!"
Applause erupted. Loud, rhythmic, almost ecstatic, the hall thundered with approval:
"Long live the Union! Long live the Consul! Long live humanity!"
As a result of this decision, additional resources were allocated to combat the epidemic known as Blue Fever.At the same time, new units were mobilized and sent to the front —into a war of attrition with no end in sight.
The war techno-socialism roared back into full motion.Agents of the State Security Directorate were dispatched to restrict the weapons production of the United Stations.The Consul refrained from general retaliation.