Victor laughed, this ti quite obviously: "Mr. Deputy Pri Minister, you're trying to ride two horses at once, and make each horse think you're on its side."
"No," Marcinski shook his head, his gaze honest to the point of being sharp, "We're looking for the safest harbor for Poland, but with the NATO ship, the captain and first-class passengers are already preparing to throw so passengers overboard. We just don't want to be the ones thrown over. Your ship, however, is sturdy, powerful, and doesn't seem to reject rule-abiding boarders."
The corridor fell silent, save for the calls of tropical birds.
Victor looked at the politician before him, exuding the resilience unique to Eastern Europeans, and quickly weighed his options.
Poland's defection or covert cooperation holds significant military value, capable of greatly relieving pressure on the Indiana front, and even triggering an avalanche of suspicion within NATO.
Politically, this is the first NATO country to actively extend a substantive olive branch to us, carrying enormous symbolic aning. Economically, Poland's appetite isn't large; they want a defined benefit, not dominance, which is easy to satisfy.
Moreover, the Olympics...
are indeed very appealing.
The Atlanta Olympics won't be held on ti and need to be postponed. If another country is willing to help speak up, coupled with so maneuvering on our part, there's still a chance.
"I hope we can collaborate pleasantly."
The Polish man let out a long sigh of relief, extended his hand, and nodded with a smile.
"June 1st, a good day."
"Children's Day, a symbol of rebirth and the future, on that day, xico and Poland can simultaneously announce, with a common desire to 'promote regional stability and economic recovery.' I vouched for you, in North Arica, you'll have your share."
Marcinski took a breath.
"Agreed." Marcinski only hesitated for a mont before nodding vigorously.
"Following the rising sun is always much better than chasing sunset in the west!"
Victor raised his coffee cup, "To... rebirth and the future?"
Marcinski also lifted his cup, his hand steady: "To practicality and the future."
June 1, 1996, 9 a.m. (xico City ti), 4 p.m. (Warsaw ti).
The xico Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Office of Press of the Poland Ministry of Foreign Affairs almost simultaneously released concise, similarly formatted press releases to the public.
The release title was plain: "Joint Declaration of the United xican States and the Republic of Poland on Establishing a Joint Frawork for the Economic Recovery of Indiana State."
It didn't ntion war, NATO, or even the current control situation in Indiana State.
But each word was like a bombshell, dropped on the NATO Allied Command Headquarters in Kentucky and NATO Headquarters in Brussels.
Kentucky, temporary Allied Command Headquarters.
Brigadier General Fitzroy's coffee cup fell onto the carpet, and dark stains spread rapidly. He stared at the scrolling news feed on the screen, his face flushed.
"The Polish... and xicans... joint working frawork... Indiana..."
Each word seed to squeeze through his teeth, "They're still in our operational sequence! Their brigade is still on the Indiana front!"
"My God! That rude man Sokhaski... did he actually have the brains for this? No, it's not him, it's Warsaw! Those bastards in Warsaw, they played us all!"
Fitzroy shouted, "This is treachery! Naked betrayal! Contact Warsaw imdiately! I want an explanation from the Polish High Command! Now!"
However, contacting Warsaw resulted in a string of diplomatic phrases and "no comnts at this mont."
"We need you to comnt!" Fitzroy insisted strongly.
The phone went silent for a mont, then a voice ca through.
"Good afternoon, sir, I'm Ludwig Erhard, Minister of the xico Ministry of Comrce: Is there anything you need to say to ? I can relay it to the Leader."
The British Brigadier General Fitzroy was at a loss for words, stamred for a mont, then fell silent.
On the other end, Ludwig Erhard was less pleased.
"Please don't be so rude to our friends, or I can't guarantee the safety of your friends in North Arica. Do you understand?"
It was a threat, a bare-faced threat!
Hey, the British really bought this...
Because Fitzroy knew they were truly no match for them.
Back when the Yanks were around, ili Soft was in its pri, reigning as the world's overlord, while Great Britain fell into decline, utterly unsightly, despite always being proud to call ili Soft "Old Dad."
But when your son is stronger than you, you can only pinch your nose and say, the Anglo rightful succession is in the United States, too.
So...
The British only dared to grumble behind others' backs while outwardly, they were more cowardly than anyone else. You stared them down, and they'd be speechless.
"Do you understand? Have you gone mute? Speak up!" Ludwig Erhard barked.
Fitzroy felt humiliated, but he thought he was serving the greater good, weakly saying, "Understood."
"Then apologize, gentlen usually have no trouble saying sorry, right?"
Fitzroy's face flushed purple and red in embarrassnt, and he could only finally say sorry before hanging up the phone.
And then...
You know, once the phone was hung up, the British erupted into a fit of impotent rage.
Everything on the desk was swept away.
He wished he could devour the xicans.
The soldiers outside the door listened to the brigadier general's voice inside and exchanged glances.
"What do you think, is he going through nopause?" one soldier whispered.
"Do n have nopause?" another asked.
"I don't even know if our officer is male or female. Sotis, he's more sentintal than a woman. I feel like he might cry."
The words were barely spoken when faint sobs were heard from inside.
The two guards exchanged looks.
They both felt ashad...
Losing an argunt over the phone and being scolded to tears.
Goddamn!
...
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