Alice's Point of View
An alert popped up on her command tablet; they'd found another live one.
What a mess...
At least Galiban had the foresight to design the EOD robots for operating in radioactive environments. Alice had shifted them from route-clearing to rescue work full time. Unfortunately, the speed and surprise of their offensive, and the deep advance behind Russian lines, left the local civilians with very little time to evacuate the combat zone.
The detonation of the Russian tactical nuclear weapons was uncoordinated, and, if intelligence reports could be believed, largely done by hand. Cruise missiles, even flying very low, could be intercepted by Dragonlance batteries unless screened by topography, and this was some of the flattest land in Europe they were fighting over. Nuclear artillery shells, if Russia even possessed them, did not appear to be used. The few knowledgeable prisoners they'd managed to capture claimed special teams planted the bombs, set them to explode after a certain amount of time, and fled the area.
Whatever that "certain amount of time" was, it wasn't standardized, and many Russian positions were caught in the blasts by mistake, if indeed it was a mistake. In Alice's opinion, nuking his own people was just the sort of thing President Gratin would do.
Civilian volunteers from Kyiv had come down to set up a field hospital, and her engineering robots had constructed a small airfield. The worst cases were evacuated to Budapest by air on the Queen's orders. They had some experimental therapy for radiation sickness. Alice didn't doubt her mistress could magic something like that up. Taras' life would depend on it.
Taras...
General Taras Usyk, brave boy that he was, was leading from the front and not from a command post in the rear as was sensible. When they breached the outer ring of Mariupol suburbs he walked right into the teeth of a Russian nuclear ambush. He was alive, but she hadn't heard more than that. To take her mind off of it, Alice decided to check in on the field hospital.
Ducking her head under a tent flap, Alice greeted the person in charge. "How are things, Dr. Lomachenko?"
Dr. Lomachenko was a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, the type that would be called "handsome" in old books, serious, focused, but also charming, the type of big sister Alice always wanted.
Adjusting a patient's IV with long-fingered hands that looked more suited to the piano than to medicine, Dr. Lomachenko spoke without looking up. "Well enough, General Glass," she said in accented English. "The worst off are either dead or on the way to Hungary. These in my care will keep, for a time. I do wonder about this experimental therapy they are promising. Nobody is willing to explain exactly how it works."
"It's not like I know either," Alice said helplessly. "I'm a fighter not a doctor."
Dr. Lomachenko gave her a wry look. "Ah, but you carved up the Russians, nice and artistic. I know some surgeons who could learn from you."
Alice blushed at the praise. Other than getting nuked, the strategic situation was excellent. The Russians had pulled back to Crimea and a small toehold in Donetsk and Luhansk. Southern Ukraine was almost entirely liberated, if irradiated.
"It doesn't feel like a victory," Alice said. Managing the flow of refugees out of the "liberated" areas was one of her main tasks, and had been for some time. "When do you suppose the people will be able to come back?" she asked. "This whole area is radioactive."
"The Earth is radioactive," Dr. Lomachenko said. "The sun is radioactive. But if you're asking about dangerous levels of radiation, the worst of it will clear up in a few months. These lands could be resettled safely in ten or twenty years. Perhaps the cancer rate will go up a bit, but they won't be dropping dead instantly. The parting gift the Russians left us is problematic, I grant you, but life goes on."
Such a cool big sis, Alice thought. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked.
"No, general," Lomachenko declined. "You've done enough. The Russians couldn't beat you in a fair fight, so they flipped the table and ran away." She looked at Alice strangely, a look that thrilled and embarrassed her in equal measure.
"Just a few short months ago I was doing my best to patch up the never-ending stream of our men coming back from the front with horrific wounds," the doctor continued. "They fought like lions, outnumbered and outgunned, but every day more came back to us in body bags and the Russians crept closer. Then the Queen of Hungary sends you and the Russians are evicted from land they held for years. Maybe it all wasn't for nothing," she said more to herself than to Alice.
Alice was about to reply when a Vanguard runner entered the field hospital. "The Queen wants a word?" she asked. The robot nodded. Carrying a cell phone in a combat zone was ill-advised for a dozen reasons. For anything sensitive, Alice had a secure terminal back in her mobile command post.
"Until next time, Doctor," she said. Lomachanko waved a hand lazily and went back to her patient.
Breaking into a slow jog, Alice made her way back, her human staff saluting as she entered.
The secure terminal was already beeping, so Alice opened the connection.
"Ah, Alice, excellent timing." Reka was her usual informal self. "I've just returned from an official visit to our special treatment facility. Taras is well," she said kindly, making Alice smile.
"I'm pleased to hear it, Your Majesty," Alice replied.
"Now, now, my dear, such formalities are not necessary from my circle of intimates."
"Okay then," she said agreeably. "What's up, Reka?"
"Riots are breaking out across Russia," the Queen said without preamble. "Galiban has managed to publicize the fact that Gratin used nuclear weapons on his own people. The Demon King's throne is shaky, I deem. Therefore, I mean to accelerate our timetable. You shall redeploy to Estonia and await further orders."
Estonia?
"You mean other countries are actually willing to join us?" Alice asked.
"Just so, dear Alice. Gratin's actions have been condemned by many princes, great and small. It is past time I rid myself of this troublesome pretender."
*******
Reka's Point of View
Resting her chin on his shoulder, Reka Regis hugged her husband from behind. Brad was hard at work on gram.com, Galiban's educational website. With Alice busy with their war, his physical training was temporarily on hold, so she decided to prioritize his mind. It would pay off in the end, Reka was sure. Working in their space program would be excellent enrichment for him.
Finding little projects for Brad to do was such a joy. Why, this morning they had a little after-breakfast concert with Brad singing and their butler joining in on the guitar. Julie was inordinately pleased, Reka recalled. Her friend must be quite the music lover. As for herself, well, she'd love anything her husband did, but he really did have an excellent voice and would've made for a fine minstrel in the other world.
A glance at the clock in the lower right-hand corner of Brad's laptop screen made her sigh.
That time already, she realized. Prime Minister Magyar and the foreign dignitaries would be waiting. Loath as she was to part from her love, duty called.
"I must away, Brad," she said regretfully, nuzzling him one last time for the road.
Her husband leaned into her touch. "I'll keep working hard, honey," he said, popping another mind pill into his mouth. She'd left a schedule and could trust Galiban to keep him on it.
"Farewell, my dearest love," she said tenderly, turning his face from the screen and kissing him deeply.
"I love you too," he whispered breathlessly when their lips parted.
With an effort of will she dragged herself away and made for the Parliament Building. How this war vexed her! The Demon King Gratin had interrupted her life for the last time!
She knew, she knew better than anyone her husband's fondest wish, his deepest desire. She knew it from the hopeful feeling that transmitted across their bond when he filled her with his seed. She knew it from the way his hand rested on her belly when they cuddled after making love. Brad wanted to be a father, wanted them to be a family for true.
Reka wanted it too, but not until this miserable upstart was crushed beneath her heel. He'd hurt her husband. Oh, she maintained a pleasant enough facade in public, but internally she was seething in rage. Reka would not forgive; Reka would not forget. Her vengeance would be terrible.
There would be no rest until this Kremlin palace was smote to ruin! Not until Gratin was cast down at her feet in chains! If others wished to share in her glory, well and good, but this was her hour! The world was about to receive an abject lesson in the price of defiance. Those who laid violent hands upon her family would wish they had not before the end!
Breathe, Reka, breathe, she willed herself to calm down. If she let her rage get the better of her it was possible she would transform involuntarily, and this was not the time to shock the poor interns in the Parliament Building. They were good and faithful servants and couldn't be blamed for the actions of rogue kings abroad.
She favored the human guards who saluted at her approach with a smile. Their military bearing did not waver but Reka could tell they were pleased at being acknowledged by their Queen.
All talk ceased when Reka entered the conference room. The attendees sat on elevated benches situated around a table with a sheet over it.
Ah, this will make for a suitably dramatic reveal, she thought.
Her Prime Minister Janos Magyar was there, and representatives from the various signatories of the RECA Compact, that is, the Regional European Cooperative Association.
Looking around to make sure all eyes were on her, Reka cleared her throat. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said in English, "shall we begin?"
Their silence could only mean that they agreed. Each person there had a convenient flag on their lapel to indicate which nation they represented, Reka noticed.
"It pleases me," she announced, "to gather all who are menaced by Gratin's Russia. Even as we speak, the fertile land of Ukraine has been marred and despoiled by his wickedness and cowardice. These desperate measures will avail them but little. Joined together, hand in hand, my forces and those of brave Ukraine were able to drive his armies into full retreat, reeling in disarray.
"I'm sure you've all heard about the recent instability and civil disorder in Russia. Gratin's casual cruelty and total disregard for the lives of his own soldiers has the people of Russia, who have long groaned under his yoke, in uproar! Never has he been more vulnerable! It is for this reason that I gather you today. Removing this dagger aimed at the heart of Europe is now a real possibility. The automatons of Hungary will lead the charge, but I must ask, will you follow?
"Will you, Poland? Brothers to my land of Hungary?"
The Polish representative nodded and smiled at her.
"And you, Slovakia, our neighbor to the north?"
Reka received another nod.
"Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia? You know know well Gratin's designs for the Baltic."
"We'll fight with you, Your Majesty," said the Estonian stoutly. The others raised their voices in agreement.
"What guarantees do you have?" asked the Romanian representative. "Can you prevent Gratin from using nuclear weapons against us?"
"You'll be provided with Dragonlance batteries," Reka said.
"And if that's not enough?" the man from Romania questioned her.
She smiled. This bit of theater had been planned in advance. The Romanians were a crafty sort.
Reka paused dramatically. "Then we have THIS!" She ripped the sheet off the table in the middle of the room.
There was much muttering at the reveal.
"What is it?" asked the representative from Croatia.
"This, my friend, is a scale model of the Damocles armed satellite. It contains its own fusion reactor, allowing it to operate independently for years. The plasma cannon has significantly greater range than the land-based Dragonlance, though I won't say just how much greater," Reka bragged. "It boasts the most powerful radar and other sensors we posses. No Russian missile attack will get past the Damocles."
The Bulgarian representative made an approving noise. "When can it be built?" he asked.
"My dear fellow," Reka said, "there are already ten in orbit, with more on the way."
The room erupted into chaos. "How? When? Where?" They all asked at once.
"We are not without friends," Reka said enigmatically.
On cue, the man she'd been waiting for entered the conference room.
"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce His Excellency Zhang Jiawei, the Ambassador of the People's Republic of China."