The Palace of Westminster, in Central London, was one of the few buildings in the ancient British capital to have survived the series of attacks on the city throughout the war. Its classic architecture and its most famous symbol, Big Ben, were easily recognized by tourists from all over the world. The structure on the banks of the River Thames was the seat of the United Kingdom's Parliament. And on that night, one of its routine meetings was taking place.
The main chamber of Parliament, like the exterior of the palace, maintained the same classic structure. The center was surrounded by numerous seats, like a small stadium. Of the 650 members of parliament, 88 participated in the meeting. At the center of attention was MP Seren Pritchard. The elegant 29-year-old Welshwoman was in her first term. She wore a simple but functional suit and skirt combination, as usual, which harmonized well with her short haircut, as black as her eyes. She had gained fame, or infamy, for her pacifist anti-war speeches.
The news of the destruction of two U.S.C. colonies by terrestrial forces had spread rapidly. Euphoria took hold; for the first time, "Earth" was winning the war. Similarly, the opposing side, which desired peace and an end to the conflict, saw this new terrestrial superiority as a door to ceasefire negotiations. And this was the appeal the parliamentarian tried to make to her colleagues in her speech, which was already coming to an end.
"My dear colleagues, for the first time, we have the possibility of bringing a discussion about peace to the table, on our terms! We cannot let this chance be wasted; we can draw up a plan for peace that we haven't had for over a century!"
Selen knew that of the more than 80 parliamentarians, only a dozen, perhaps even fewer, agreed with her ideas. She also knew that the English Parliament's influence was local, at best. Her real objective was to garner support for the upcoming election to Aegis's global council, which would take place in the coming months. However, the response she received was the absolute opposite of what she desired.
"We must go all the way and end this battle once and for all! We can finish off our enemies!!"
One of the parliamentarians stood up, shouting. When he noticed he had attention, he continued.
"The only possible peace is if we no longer have to worry about the U.S.C. and The Cathedral. For decades upon decades, we have lived under the threat of their power. Let's strike back as they deserve!"
The parliamentarian's bravado garnered more applause than Selen's plea for peace, a reaction she had already come to expect. She raised her head to observe the chamber once more, found her colleagues who supported her looking downcast, and at the top of the stairs, she saw a figure who did not usually appear in the Palace of Westminster. The well-dressed man nodded to Selen before disappearing from sight. She knew the importance and power the visitor also held for her future.
After the meeting and her speech, Selen headed to her office. The door, as she already expected, was open. She sighed heavily, gathering her courage, and entered her room. The environment, filled with enough books to be easily mistaken for a library, was generally simple. The old, well-maintained wood of the furniture created a perfect combination of simplicity and elegance. In the center was the parliamentarian's desk, and in the chair opposite it, the man she had seen moments ago was waiting for her.
"Sorry for the delay, Mr. Merseyside."
Allen George Merseyside smiled at Selen, standing up. The president of Europe's largest technological conglomerate was also the biggest donor to Selen Prichard's young political career campaigns. The parliamentarian went to her chair, and when she sat down, her guest did the same once more.
"That was a brilliant speech, Miss Prichard. Unfortunately, your colleagues are too engrossed in the conflict to understand the possibilities we now have."
Selen briefly analyzed Allen's elegant figure, which, along with the natural aura emanating from the Merseyside president, created an intimidating combination. Even though she had known him for some years, the parliamentarian had difficulty choosing the correct way to deal with her biggest donor. Allen seemed to amuse himself with Selen's useless worries; she knew that.
"Well, we are two very busy individuals, so I will get straight to the point: I hear you wish to run for one of the seats on Aegis's new council."
Selen nodded before answering.
"I believe it will be the best way to achieve some real influence."
"I agree. And I believe the campaign for such a position is not cheap, am I correct?"
"No, sir."
"Can you name more people with the same vision as yours, Selen?"
The informality of the Merseyside president in his question caught the parliamentarian off guard. She could think of a few names, however.
"I believe we have at least ten more parliamentarians, not only from England but from other European countries, who share our objective."
"Excellent."
Allen stood up, preparing to leave.
"I will provide financial support for all of your campaigns. And Selen, this is probably the last time we will converse in this manner."
"Why do you say that?"
"Let's just say I'm going to retire."
Selen's eyes widened, not only because of the president's youth but because she had seen how involved the man was in his corporation's affairs. He noticed the young parliamentarian's shock and just smiled.
"Don't worry, my support for you all will continue even after that. When the time comes, you will understand my reasons. It's the best course of action, not just for Merseyside, but also for Earth… No, for all of humanity."
The two exchanged a silent look. Selen Prichard had never questioned the unconditional support—not only financial but also logistical—that Allen had given her and her colleagues with similar ideas. But knowing they would lose contact made the urge to ask the real reason for the million-pound donations uncontrollable.
"Mr. Merseyside, could I ask you a question?"
He simply gestured with his hands for her to proceed.
"Why would one of the most powerful men in the technological and military sector support peace? I know it's not just cheap propaganda; you've never publicized anything about your donations… So why?"
Allen smiled sadly at Selen, who automatically lowered her guard. For the first time, she saw a sign of powerlessness in the man's actions, who, in his usual tranquility, replied.
"Regret, guilt, perhaps both. It's one of the few things I have left, Selen. To place women and men like you, who believe in peace, in positions of importance and power. Praying they won't be corrupted upon arriving there. And one day, perhaps, you will manage to make the world a better place."
Selen stood up to say goodbye to the man who was already heading for the door, but before leaving, he turned to her once more.
"Goodbye, Selen Prichard. Throughout all these years, your struggle has motivated me, and I hope it continues until your victory."
"Thank you for the years of support, Mr. Merseyside. And I hope that one day we can have tea to discuss our upcoming success."
"If the future allows, we shall."
<>
At The Cathedral's technology center, located in the heart of Alpha colony, Rosemarie Molineux, responsible for the organization's M.M.U. development, observed newly arrived data on her desk. Some images captured before the destruction of Zeta and Gamma colonies helped the scientist piece together the puzzle that was the terrestrial forces' technological advancement. They were just glimpses, but sufficient for her to draw some conclusions by combining this data with that received from The Cathedral's now-limited espionage service, which still operated on Earth.
Mathias Granqvist accompanied his colleague in her analyses. The woman, who should have been euphoric with the triumph of having multiplied the Sagittarius M.M.U.s so quickly—now numbering 10—was actually irritated and perplexed by the discoveries they had made.
"It's the power generation."
She tossed her tablet onto the table, turning her chair towards Mathias.
"The way they generate and compress this energy is the key."
Images of Aegis's new M.M.U.s and the starship Avalon appeared on the floating monitor.
"Discovering the origin and trying to recreate it would be an important step for us to regain the advantage, but will we have that time?"
Mathias understood what she implied with her doubt; the destructive power in their enemies' hands was something The Cathedral certainly hadn't expected to deal with. How aggressively Aegis would act would be the watershed moment of the crisis. Mathias gestured with his hands, and the image on the floating display now showed M.M.U. Arthur, charging the Excalibur cannon's shot.
"This EX project changed the scenario so drastically that we're already hearing rumors of leaders wanting to open negotiations for a ceasefire."
Rosemarie let out a sarcastic laugh, adjusting her elegant glasses before explaining why she disagreed with the idea.
"For 100 years, they felt threatened by a superior force; billions died, Mathias. Do you really think they would accept any notion of peace? There will certainly be people who would like it, but I doubt they will be the majority, or that they will have any power to influence that decision."
Mathias admitted his colleague was right but couldn't hide that peace, even if temporary, would be welcome. The climate of tension and fear in the colonies had reached an unprecedented level. The destruction of Zeta and Gamma, the battle at the gates of Beta colony on Mars, and above all, the fear of a superior power that had shown itself capable of annihilating millions in instants, sent U.S.C. society into a spiral of chaos. The lack of action from the cardinals and the supreme command, however, bothered the veteran, who knew the necessity of an intervention from the power that managed The Cathedral.
<>
In an isolated church a few kilometers from the capital of Alpha colony, an old man tended to the beautiful garden at the back of the property. He delicately pruned some leaves from a beautiful red rose. It was one of Cardinal Fons D'Agostino's hobbies, who had held the position of The Cathedral's main leader for 50 years. For him, the flowers he cultivated in his garden represented the humanity he liked to believe he had guided towards a better future.
The opening of the church's back door caught Fons's attention. He received his unexpected visitor with the tranquil smile he usually gave his followers. However, the distraught face of Peter Ericsson, The Cathedral's Commander-General of Logistics, did not seem receptive. Fons D'Agostino observed Peter for a few moments and, with his powerful voice, did the honors.
"To what do I owe the visit, Commander Ericsson?"
"Your Eminence, I come seeking counsel."
The Cardinal made a small gesture for Peter to accompany him, and then the men began to walk slowly through the beautiful garden.
"My lord, about our plans… Haven't we gone too far with the destruction of the colonies?"
Fons D'Agostino observed the man, unimpressed, but maintained tranquility in his response.
"It is merely the will of our Lord, Peter. The path cannot be corrected without sacrifices."
"But sir… Millions of lives were lost. If peace is the intention, won't this just generate more violence!?"
"Peter."
The severity in the Cardinal's voice made Peter Ericsson tremble.
"Do you believe in what we are doing?"
The silence and the delay in response indicated that he did not. Fons closed his eyes and sighed, disappointed. And when he opened them again, the next scene made him smile faintly. Peter was pointing his personal weapon in his direction.
"Cardinal Fons D'Agostino, today I will end your plans. I will pay for my crimes later, but I will no longer allow you to control the U.S.C.'s future in this manner!"
The sound of multiple shots echoed in the garden of such beautiful flowers. Peter Ericsson seemed not to understand what had happened. He slowly looked at his body and saw his white uniform stained with the red of his blood. He tried to raise his weapon once more towards the old cardinal, but the subsequent shots were more accurate, and one of them hit the commander squarely in the forehead. He fell to the ground, his face anguished by death.
A group of men who were in the garden, but invisible to the eye thanks to their optical deflection cloaks, approached the Cardinal, who simply turned his back on Peter's body, heading back towards the church.
"Give him a worthy end."
"Yes, Your Eminence."
Cardinal Fons D'Agostino's prayers that afternoon would be in the name of the life and death of Peter Ericsson, who had just become another pillar in the reconstruction of humanity.