The Winter Tyrant

Communicating across long distances was a testament to one’s civilizational prowess. Instantaneous global communication had been one of mankind’s greatest accomplishments. And it was a feat that had only truly been achieved in the last century.

But when the world came to an end, so too did the ease with which people could contact one another, trade, or convey meaningful strategic information.

The satellites were the first things to go. How long they had been rendered unusable, few knew the answer, but it was certainly before the first storm ever hit the ground.

And after the snow fell, power grids failed, telephone wires snapped or toppled over. And the internet became a thing of the past.

By now, the most effective means of communication was short to medium range radio waves. With most capable powers emerging among the snow prioritizing obtaining VHF/UHF radios and building systems capable of projection.

Terra’s connection to its large array of satellites had been the first sign that something was wrong. And after over half a year of experimentation in getting them back online, the Union of Columbia, or what remained of its executive function now found itself capable of very brief windows of long range communications with its various buried outposts.

The call had serious lag, and many words went misheard, requiring adjusting connectivity and extensive re-phrasing.

But Nathaniel Cross managed to convey his findings to the higher ups back in the Capital. And by the time the next window appeared he was summoned to a disciplinary hearing, with a military tribunal formed to judge his guilt and hand the sentence.

He sat in his own office chair, watching three separate screens, from three separate undisclosed locations, contain the men who would be overseeing his hearing.

They had all read the words transmitted to them, and had gone to great lengths to organize this event as soon as possible.

The Colonel sat with his hands folded calmly over his desk, the older men gazed at the documents slowly before the one with the most medals on his uniform begin to speak.

"After reviewing the evidence, the Tribunal has concluded on a verdict. As you are aware, this is not a trial. You were given explicit orders, and great lengths were made to ensure that they were precisely communicated. And yet, you admit knowingly to have broken those orders and sent men beyond the habitable zone. Risking valuable intelligence operatives on a mission that could have resulted in certain death during a time of national crisis."

Colonel Cross didn’t say a word, he sat there simply breathing, calmly and controllably. He already knew that he was guilty the moment he gave the order and had long since accepted his punishment, whatever that may be.

And if he was being honest, he had deduced it down to a few variables which he already found tolerable, and even preferable to continuing the status quo. Especially since he was proven right about his fears in the end.

He sat there waiting for the sentence to be given, and the same man who had begun reading formalities finally concluded it.

"Despite knowingly conspiring and committing insubordination, and distributing orders that deliberately indicted men under your command under the same criminal offense. The evidence provided proves that there was some merit to your concerns, which were otherwise dismissed out of hand by a breakdown in procedure. Therefore, your sentence will be to mount an expedition to properly identify and neutralize this advanced URA organization as a threat. You are free to use your discretion, but will be held solely responsible for every act committed by yourself and those under your command while acting in fulfillment of your sentence. Does anybody have anything else to add?"

The other two men on the screen remained silence, trying not to use up what limited bandwidth they had, or risk overstaying their stable window of connection, which was prone to random chaos that could cut them off at any minute.

And once it became clear that the other two generals had nothing to add, the highest ranking among them nodded his head and gave his concluding thoughts before signing off.

"Failure is not an option... Get it done, Colonel, and do not fail us again, this is your last chance."

The screens went black, and Colonel Cross finally sighed in relief, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his index finger and his thumb.

Then "MP" who had been present to "restrain" Colonel Cross if he began to refuse orders still sighed in relief as well, making the first remark since the call went silent.

"Well, Colonel, it looks like I will remain in your care after all."

Colonel Cross didn’t look over at the man, he simply shook his head and chuckled bitterly.

"They didn’t have a choice. Nobody here has the ability to replace me, and if they gave me a sterner sentence, the boys from the Company would revolt. Losing some of their best eyes and ears over such a petty matter would be catastrophic."

The MP thought about it for two seconds and nodded in agreement before speaking up again.

"Still, they basically just told you to do what you already planned to do and called it a punishment. In all my years in the Army, I’ve never seen such a thing before."

Colonel Cross leaned back in his chair and broke out a repurposed bottle with its label scrubbed off, one that was filled with a clear liquid. He poured it into two cups before handing one off to the MP.

"No matter how much those fools in Washington want to pretend like everything is the same as before, it’s the end of the world. We don’t have the luxury of maintaining protocol. They, like us, are making things up as we go, making the best of the bad decisions left available to us. And I was betting the house on that."

The MP simply grinned and shook his head before grabbing the cup the Colonel had offered him, sipping it as he walked away without saying another word.