13:50 – June 28, 2047 – Nexus / Politburo
The initial euphoria had faded. The diplomatic outreach had failed.
The Southern League of the Faithful had no intention of ending the war. They would continue to fight—continue to slaughter—until the last round was fired.
The telegraph wires had run hot. Once glowing with hope for peace, crackling brightly under the strain of electrical signals, they carried the silent screams of thousands of souls and bodies longing for normality, for hope, for an end.All of it fell on deaf ears.The receiver remained silent.The line was dead—just like countless lives extinguished.Three hundred lives erased, civilian and soldier alike.
The assessments of the Politburo had proven wrong.Now other powers, too, smelled blood.
Even for the TSUH, this victory had been bought at an enormous cost.Would the gain of such a rich agricultural station truly outweigh the losses?Or had it merely been a Pyrrhic victory—a triumph not worth its price?
As usual, messengers hurried between the rows, distributing folders and serving freshly brewed tea. The clicking of cylindrical mechanical calculators filled the hall. Buzzing lamps—some with filaments, some without—pushed back the darkness.A new tactic was needed. A new strategy. A new plan.What now?How was the Union to cope after this hemorrhage of material and human lives?
The Minister for Economic Planning and Rationing took the floor:
"Due to our recent successes on the battlefield, we have—at least temporarily—contained the threat of an uncontrollable famine. Production in the occupied area exceeds our expectations. Unfortunately, our peace talks were rejected."
Absolute silence fell over the chamber.Everyone awaited his assessment of the Union's economic capacity—crucial ammunition for the political maneuvering between the Realists and the Utopians.
"I fear," he continued, "that without additional raw materials from the surface, we will not be able to sustain this conflict much longer. I therefore once again emphasize with urgency: we must intensify the exploitation of post-nuclear Vienna. That concludes my assessment."
Muted applause rippled through the room. The figures had clearly sobered the officials. The fall from victory back into dust and scarcity was bitter for all.
The Minister of Information and Public Enlightenment raised his hand.
"Comrades, may I intervene?"
"Of course," the Consul replied.
"The public is highly pleased with the victory of our troops," the minister began, briefly moistening his lips."However, the enormous losses are difficult to communicate. More than a full regiment has been killed or wounded. Don't misunderstand me—I know how to sell this—but further offensives, or worse, defeats, are something we cannot afford from an image standpoint. Therefore, I propose that we officially annex the newly conquered station to maintain public morale. Thank you for your attention."
Several Utopians rolled their eyes or smirked.
Both sides knew that truth was a dangerous commodity—explosive as dynamite, sharp as steel. Yet many believed that reality should be communicated more clearly. After all, the most effective propaganda is a truth that inspires fear.
Unremarkable folders were passed along the benches. One after another received a black dossier—reports from the Ministry of Intelligence Acquisition. Several sleeper cells within the Eastern Corporate State had apparently been uncovered and neutralized.The Union and the Eastern Corporate State regularly clashed over their competing visions of collectivism—techno-socialismversus caste rule. Mutual infiltration, sabotage, and infrastructure attacks had continued intermittently since the Great War. At present, there was a fragile ceasefire.
For now, however, the report would not be needed.
The Minister of Defense raised his hand.
"Comrades, I agree with both assessments. Under these conditions, we cannot conduct further offensives—our forces are exhausted. I therefore propose reinforcing existing units with militia troops. It would be advisable to deploy the 23rd Infantry Regiment, together with construction and labor detachments, to the surface to secure raw materials for our economy.The morale of the troops is already strained after the recent fighting; guard duty would be a welcome change. Furthermore, these resources could be used to support the Cultural Revolution."
The Consul looked mildly surprised. His gaze moved slowly across the assembled faces. He had not expected such a clear compromise proposal—especially not from the hardened Field Marshal.
Murmured approval spread through the chamber. Only a few skeptical glances remained.
Since the proposal satisfied both Realists and Utopians alike, it was approved by majority vote.
Detachments would be sent to the surface to take what belonged to the Union—no, to all of humanity.Cohorts of workers and soldiers would be dispatched into the post-nuclear winter.Outposts would be planned and constructed. Roads would be laid—a new Silk Road, built from the rubble of the past toward the future.Trade with the dead.
The station "Taubstummengasse" was officially annexed and declared sovereign territory of the Union. Power and water lines were rerouted into the new holding. Until the population proved loyal, administration would remain under the Commissariat. Once control was secured, standardized civilian governance would take over.
The public was reassured by the announcement.