As the radio crackled with the news of the Soviet's decision, I felt the strength drain completely from my limbs.
I accidentally bit down on the cigar clamped between my teeth, my voice laced with the bitterness of tobacco as I spoke.
"They didn't pass it. Those bastards actually let it fail."
Well, we're finished. Truly. This is a disaster.
This was an outcome I hadn't even entertained.
No... seriously? An opportunity to bring Kazdel into the fold as a sovereign ally for free, and they choose to refrain? Do they have any idea what they've done?
The Sarkaz are a race that consistently ranks at the top of military prowess, even if the Vouivre might give them a run for their money. More importantly, their geography sits right at the rear of Leithanien.
It was a golden opportunity to exert pressure directly on a rival power's flank.
"And yet... it was the Centralists who spearheaded the rejection?"
Hmm....
I see how it is.
It has been roughly thirty years since I stepped away from the political front lines to conduct my perpetual international tours, so my intuition might be slightly dull, but it seems the Centralists are no longer the fervent, borderline-idolatrous supporters I once knew.
While the National Liberation League and the Sorbonne faction appear to be wrestling for hegemony within the party, it's clear the Sorbonne intellectuals have seized the actual reins of power.
And more importantly than anything else...
"These wretches have no intention of waging war, do they?"
From where I stand, these idle academics of the Sorbonne faction have zero interest in international intervention.
In other words... they've become isolationists.
To put it bluntly, their current platform is: 'We can live perfectly well on our own, so why bother meddling in others' affairs? Poor us.'
Of course, this isn't entirely a fallacious argument.
In a conventional nation-state, this brand of pacifism would be considered far more favorable than jingoistic chauvinism or warmongering... however...
"The problem is that the Union is an ideological state. We are in a position where we must expand the revolution to find allies and augment our national strength to survive."
Their logic will only result in the slow corruption of the Union as it watches its own ideals wither and dry up.
The flames of revolution burn as brightly as they start, which means they die just as quickly. To prevent that, one must constantly feed the furnace with fresh timber.
But what they are doing is choosing to settle for the present and abandoning the future. Is it not effectively the same as asking why one should add more coal to a train that is already moving smoothly?
Still, there is nothing to be done for it.
"...Re-intervening in domestic politics now would be problematic."
The vessel named 'the Union' is a ship of liberty, constructed from the hearts of myself and the people. The Union is a youth growing freely, destined to suffer growing pains and evolve through them.
Therefore, if I were to seize the helm once more to correct the course, it would be a betrayal of those who believed in me and followed my lead.
I will simply do what I can within the scope of my current station.
"By the way, what exactly was happening in Kazdel?"
My memories of the original timeline have become so fragmented that, aside from the fact that Theresia and Kal'tsit are in Babel while Theresis holds the opposing side, I remember absolutely nothing.
...I suppose I'll have to visit the library and scour the history books again.
*********************
The situation in Kazdel was a labyrinthine mess.
Beyond Babel and the Military Council, warlords, militias, bandits, and even People's Committees were locked in a desperate struggle across the territory. There was never a day without blood; hundreds perished daily from combat or starvation.
If one were to ask for the root cause of this civil war...
"Honestly, even I don't know."
I really didn't. I couldn't wrap my head around it.
I understood that the Military Council was shouting 'Make the Sarkaz Great Again!', but wasn't that something that Theresis could have accomplished by simply cooperating with Theresia?
Considering they had been steadily swallowing up support, they didn't even seem like anti-communists... Good heavens, the more I think, the more my head throbbed.
One thing was certain: Babel must be supported.
"If it's Theresia, she is trustworthy."
Though I hadn't met her yet, in my hazy recollections, was Theresia not a superstar-like figure whom everyone adored—with the exception of a few Old Human cultists?
So, she is likely! Trustworthy.
Besides, I had already promised Kal'tsit that I would provide assistance.
Then, how can one support Theresia's Babel?
"Direct intervention... is impossible."
Since the Supreme Soviet had rejected the intervention bill, all the Union could officially provide was humanitarian aid or support at a private, non-governmental level.
Therefore, there was only one path left for me to take.
I spat out the Bolívarian cigar I had been smoking.
The heavy, deep aroma of the cigar lingered in my mouth. The aftertaste was dry and chalky.
I discarded the cigar and donned my jacket.
Then, I opened the front door and stepped out.
A biting cold wind grazed past my jacket with a soft hiss.
My secretary greeted me.
I spoke quietly to him.
"Convene the Executive Committee of the International Communist Party."
*************************
Constructed in 1076 to commemorate the 80th anniversary of the founding of the International, the Palace of the Revolution stood so tall its eighty stories seemed to pierce the sun itself.
An edifice piled high with concrete, steel, and glass, the sheer majesty of its shadow was enough to leave first-time visitors utterly dumbfounded.
Since the entire building served as the headquarters for the Comintern, I boarded one of the dozens of elevators and headed for the 60th floor.
That was where the Executive Committee's hall was located.
Paintings in the style of Socialist Realism adorned the halls, depicting the cultures and races of Terra woven together, along with the arrows of revolution piercing across the globe.
Passing those paintings and statues, I arrived before the doors marked with a sign in Yanese: 'For the Global Communist Revolution!'
"Shall I open the doors for you, Comrade Chairman?" the guard asked.
I offered a thin smile and replied.
"No, I shall open them myself."
And so, by my own hand, the doors swung open.
I was greeted by the frantic clicking of camera flashes and the noisy buzz of journalists and observers.
Representatives sent from communist parties all across the world either gulped in nervous anticipation, clutched their heads in agonizing deliberation, or watched the podium and me with still gazes, having already made up their minds.
I rested my hands on the lectern.
Then, I smiled toward the microphone.
"Comrades."
I opened the floor with a quiet, measured voice.
"In Kazdel, an average of several hundred people are dying every single day."
The hall fell into a heavy silence.
Though everyone was surely aware of this fact, I was speaking to the cameras. I was appealing to the internationalists, the humanitarians, and the idealists behind the lens.
"Warlords fight over inches of dirt, militias plunder the populace, and children starve. We receive reports of this news daily."
I slowly scanned the room.
"And just now, we heard the decision of a State that has chosen to do absolutely nothing."
Someone bowed their head in shame. Another stared forward with a hardened expression.
"Naturally, I respect that decision."
I paused for a brief moment.
"A state calculates. It reviews budgets, weighs the fruits of success against the costs of failure, and examines the political threads of diplomatic relations. That is the function of a state."
I tapped the lectern once with my finger.
"However."
A beat of silence.
"The International Communist Party is not an organization born of cold calculation."
The atmosphere in the hall shifted subtly.
"Why do we exist?"
No one answered, but everyone knew.
"It is because the revolution recognizes no borders."
I did not raise my voice. I spoke clearly, enunciating every syllable.
"The blood of Kazdel will not end within Kazdel's borders. If the revolution is isolated, we are next."
Several representatives shifted in their seats.
"Though a state may remain silent, if we communists choose silence, it means we have opted to watch our revolutionary comrades collapse. We are betting on the failure of the revolution."
In that instant, one representative raised their hand.
"The Union government has rejected intervention. If we act, the political fallout—"
I nodded.
"Indeed. The Union government has pronounced its rejection of the intervention bill."
Then, a momentary pause.
"But tell me this."
The hall became utterly breathless.
"We are not the Union. We are an international organization. Must we be bound by the decisions of the Union's government?"
I placed both hands firmly on the lectern.
"I propose today to the Executive Committee of the International Communist Party."
Quietly, yet with absolute certainty.
"Let us take international measures."
I did not specify the details yet.
"Humanitarian aid, organizational solidarity, political protection, material support. The form of our aid can be discussed at any time."
I made eye contact with each person in the room.
"But the option to 'do nothing' does not exist."
Someone swallowed hard.
"Though the state may not help, if we communists do not help as individuals and as an organization, it is a betrayal of the world and a regression of progress itself."
That word swept through the room like a cold draft.
"We must keep this in mind."
I drew a slow breath.
"I have stepped down from my official positions in the Union. That is why I can say this more freely."
This was a factual statement.
"I am not speaking with authority today. I am speaking of responsibility and principles."
The representatives from Sargon, Yan, and the Higashi sitting at the very back of the hall raised their heads.
"If Kazdel falls, the ideals of the revolution will wither away. Revolution is not a self-sustaining flower pot."
I hammered home the final sentence.
"We shall never be scattered."
Silence.
Seconds passed.
Then, very slowly, one person began to clap.
The applause was not loud.
But it did not stop.
Soon, the sound of rhythmic handclaps echoed from every corner of the room.
I did not bow.
I did not smile.
I simply said one final word.
"Let us vote."
The result was a unanimous resolution.
On that day, the Kazdel People's Committee officially signed an alliance treaty with Theresia.