Prologue:
Fort Osveta
January 7th, 2009
Sarmatian Roulette
"Sir, I am holding a report stating that there has been a suicide."
Disinterest reflected back at him in the window. Brigadir Huszar felt waning compassion for human life as a predator does when its hunger multiplies. There beyond his aging face moved at least two-hundred, perhaps one less now, air troopers in training; circled intensely by venom tongued Drill Sergeants wearing their trademark gray patrol cap (bill rimmed by steel).
"Alpha Company again I presume?" Huszar casually queried, distracted with the sight of his Drill Sergeants 'steel-pecking' in to trainees with their sturdy gray caps.
"This suicide was high-profile, Sir. I am holding a Memorandum from Sjadnbrdo...This one comes from the top." a junior officer replied.
Watching troopers performing the 'side-straddle hop', Brigadir Huszar was hypnotized by an organic machine working in perfect rythm. It was a self-correcting device, displayed perfectly while a blue uniformed trainee was scolded with terrible gray wrath when the machines rythm or motion was compromised by individual weakness of body or mind.
Hinges squeacked sharply from his flank, forcing Dionis Huszar to abandon his beloved hobby of observation to address whomever his latest visitor might be. The turn was swift, eased by his landmark policy of wearing Union Field Attire as opposed to Dress Uniforms like his predecessor had insisted on to his dying days. To the mans genuine surprise, within his historic office now stood the Trifecta: respective commanders of the Union Air Corps, Army, and Zaktrupa.
"All present parties careers in mind, this Office is bugged as you know. If strings need to be pulled - the Maresal himself will know where they respectively begin and end." Huszar reminded his ranking guests with an intended tone of dismay.
Brigadir Khomzka of the Air Corps snickered like a child while marching linear as if pulled in by a gravitational vortex towards the liquor cabinet, quite aware of its location from his tenure occupying the Training & Doctrine seat over a decade before.
"Worry not Dionis, worry not" recited Khomzka with glee "Pijan experienced his final heartbeat as our Sindikat Maresal". Whiskey was poured in to four tumblers, the fourth was gifted to the young Junior Officer, leaving Khomzka drinking directly from a freshly opened bottle.
Holstered along the ribcage, Brigadir Huszar lightly tapped his Revolver with an open hand "Did he swallow old glory? Sarmatian Roulette?" he asked.
Sollo of the Union Army stood silent with an uneasy facial expression, Pijan had been predecessor to Brigadir Sollo as Chief of the Union Army. Zaktrupa Chief, Brigadir Tazleki on the other hand paraded about with glee like Khomzka, who had distributed a spot of whiskey to every man present by this time.
"He has had you locked away here with Training & Doctrine, watching your every move with these traitorous rats and planted listening devices. For all of this: the Union Army is indebted to you." Sollo whispered, only just loud enough for his peers to decipher.
Tazleki stopped dead in his tracks "Damn right they are indebted, Pijan held his boot down on the best damn Air Trooper in the Union, by using Army spies might I add. All with your god damn approval Sollo!" Tazlek pointed directly at the Army Chief, "This man is indebted to the Corps, he owes you Dionis".
Brigadir Sollo sighed and nodded, "The Union Army owes you a vote, Maresal Huszar." Sollo informed with confident voice. "Dignified and respected by all Airmen" Khomzka added with the smell of whiskey deep in his breath. "Loyal to the Corps, loyal to your Country - no Air Trooper has shared your loyalty, or the honor you are about to receive." Tazleki boomed.
United in vigor the trio spoke all at once "Maresal Huszar, the Union is yours."