"Whew! That was a close one," sighed Gordon, finally letting himself relax as Saladin's aide took the signed treaty and put it away in a secure briefcase.
"U-um, General Harris, can we get back to the White House now? I need to draw up my resignation," said Anne in a small voice. Tears streamed down her face as the weight of the situation finally hit her.
"I'm afraid you can't walk away from this that easily, Miss President. You have a duty to see this through. Don't worry though. I'll help you save face," said Saladin.
"What the hell are you talking about? I nearly got my country nuked! General Harris, I want to resign! I can't do this anymore!" wailed Anne, throwing herself into his arms.
"There, there. Don't worry too much about it. We'll come up with something to keep the public on your side," said Gordon, as he patted her on the back.
"That hurdle, my dear is simplicity in itself. We make a joint address: You express respect and admiration for me for risking it all on a feat of gunboat diplomacy to get you to the negotiating table, and I express admiration for you wanting to call my bluff, but ultimately listening to the advice of your military leaders. Of course, we all know that is a complete falsehood, for I do have enough nuclear warheads in the Aristotle to rain Armageddon on the United States, but the public will be too relieved to have not been blown to smithereens to care about the details. It will cement your image as a woman of steel, and it will allow me to go down in history as the leader who made the most powerful military on earth blink first. It's a win-win," said Saladin, as he smiled at Anne.
"I still can't do this. I can't just move along like nothing happened!" sniffled Anne.
"The Presidency of the United States is not a throne or mantle, Miss President. It is an office. You may sit in the chair, but your authority is derived from the people around you. Some are loyal to the office, and some are loyal to only themselves. It is your job to know whom to listen to. And from what I can tell of General Harris here, you are in good hands. I suggest you put your faith in him to lead you out of this situation," said Saladin gently, as Gordon coughed uncomfortably, not being used to that kind of phrasing.
"Why? Why won't you let me resign?" asked Anne, recovering somewhat, and starting to blush as she slowly disengaged herself from Gordon's embrace.
"General? How about you tell her why," said Saladin, as he looked at Gordon.
Gordon took a deep breath, and looked at Anne.
"The short version, is that neither Saladin nor I trust whichever nut-job gets elected or appointed in your place to keep to the terms of this treaty. The long version: Point number one, the people still have faith in you, so don't throw that away. Point number two, you're not looking at a quiet resignation here. If what happened in the Oval Office comes to light, we'll both end up being tried for treason and sent to death. Point number three, even though you drive me crazy and make my job a billion times more difficult, I still like and respect you as my Commander in Chief," he explained, as Anne shed fresh tears, this time of gratitude, and once again hugged him tight.
"Thank you," she whispered, before pulling away and wiping her tears.
Anne then turned to Aaron, who had been quietly watching the whole thing.
"Mr. Zakhrov, due to the circumstances surrounding the recent events, I need temporary accommodations," she said.
"A minute ago, you wanted to get back to the White House. Why the change of plans?" asked Aaron.
Anne blushed furiously.
"My head understands the situation, but I can't help but feel that I'll be better off here for a little while. I... I need some time to process everything before I go back there," she said, looking down at her hands.
"Well, be my guest," said Aaron. He buzzed his intercom.
"Natasha, have three guest rooms prepared for Mr. Saladin, General Harris, and Miss Frank-Silverman," he instructed.
---
Anne flopped down on the bed in her guest room, trying to sort out the jumble of emotions that were tormenting her.
"Why did I go to pieces like that?" she asked herself, staring blankly at the soft white glowing OLED ceiling.
Gordon's wall slam and order to shut up should have been grounds for his instant dismissal. Instead, it had sent a shockwave of electricity through her body, and had turned her on like nothing else ever had before.
What was worse, the incident had seemed to have short-circuited her brain, and she had clung to him like a child or a lover, feeling completely safe and protected in his arms.
She rolled to her side, and slowly pulled herself out of the bed, and made her way to the bathroom, where she stared at herself in the mirror.
Her brown eyes were red and puffy from crying, and her shoulder-length brown hair was a disheveled mess.
Her navy blue pantsuit was wrinkled, and it felt sticky from the sweat that had soaked through it when she had hyperventilated.
With a sigh, she turned on the tap and splashed cold water on her face, trying to wash away the tears and the sweat, and to clear her mind.
Feeling a little more composed, she dried her face with a towel.
"Maybe a shower would be good," she thought.
She was about to peel off her pantsuit, when she realized that she didn't have a fresh change of clothes with her.
Gordon and the Secret Service had just bundled her into Air Force One, and flown her straight to Boston, and then they had driven her straight to Sirius Software Headquarters, without giving her a chance to pack or change.
She started to feel a little like her old self again as her annoyance with the situation started to build up.
A chime from the door interrupted her thoughts.
"Come in," she called out.
The door hissed open, and Natasha walked in, carrying a large suitcase.
"Your clothes and personal effects, Miss President," said Natasha, setting the suitcase down on the floor, next to the bed.
"Thanks," said Anne, her annoyance giving way to a blush of confusion and gratitude.
Natasha inclined her head, and made to leave, but Anne stopped her.
"Please, wait, miss..." began Anne,
"Natasha, ma'am," said Natasha.
"Natasha. Do you have a minute to talk?" asked Anne.
"Sure, Miss President," said Natasha, sitting down on a chair next to the bed.
Anne sank onto the bed, and took a deep breath.
"You're Mr. Zakhrov's head of security, right?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," said Natasha.
"What made you decide to work for him? I mean, I get that his aesthetic is seductive, but I've seen the leaked documents and intelligence reports. He's got these frankly Draconian dress codes and NDAs. So why?" asked Anne.
Natasha let out a small laugh.
"Well, I can't speak for everyone, but for me, Master Zakhrov's offer of his head of security gave me a sense of purpose and belonging that I had thought I would never find. I was chewed up and spat out by the military and the CIA, and was making ends meet as a PI for senators and other politicians. Compared to that life, I prefer this one," she said.
"I get that part, but why the get-up you're wearing?" asked Anne, gesturing to Natasha's Sirius Software Security uniform.
"You know, I asked him that very same question when I first got hired. He said that he refuses to compromise on his aesthetic vision, and that image based intimidation is the first line of defense," chuckled Natasha, smiling fondly at the memory.
"It still doesn't look very practical to me," said Anne uncertainly.
Natasha cocked her head to the side, and looked at Anne with a small smile.
"Your feet are a size 6 right?" she asked.
Anne nodded uncertainly.
Natasha pulled out her combat knives from the boot sheaths, unzipped her boots, and took them off.
"Try these on," she said, handing them over to Anne.
Anne looked at them apprehensively.
The metal 8 cm stiletto heels gleamed under the soft white OLED lighting.
The black leather shafts came up to mid-thigh, and were polished to a mirror shine.
Trembling slightly, Anne slipped out of her sensible flat shoes, peeled off the pants of her pantsuit, and slid her feet into the boots.
The boots fit fairly snugly, and the memory foam insoles molded to the shape of her feet, making them surprisingly comfortable.
Anne braced herself against the bedpost, and stood up.
"Whoa!" she said, as she wobbled slightly, unused to the height of the heels.
Her feet felt planted, but at an unnatural angle. The balls of her feet were pointed down, and her Achilles tendons were shortened, forcing her to arch her back and open her shoulders to compensate.
A blush crept up her cheeks again.
"This is my first time actually wearing heels," she admitted sheepishly.
"Well, I had worn heels before I got hired, but those babies are next-level," chuckled Natasha, coming to Anne's side to give her some support.
Anne took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and slowly opened them again, assimilating to the higher line of sight, and the new posture.
With trepidation, she raised her right foot, and took a small step forward.
"OK, these aren't as bad as I thought they would be," she said, as she took another step, and then another.
"Comfortable right?" asked Natasha.
"More than I expected," said Anne, as she walked around the room a little more confidently.
"Try a pirouette," suggested Natasha.
"What? No! I'll break my neck!" exclaimed Anne.
With a sudden move, Natasha grabbed Anne's waist, and spun her around in a pirouette.
"What the hell?!" exclaimed Anne, as she wobbled but managed to keep her balance.
"That move would have snapped a regular heel like a toothpick. Those boots you're wearing have titanium heels and insteps. I can perform high kicks and fight in them. Now I'd like them back please," said Natasha, as Anne sat down on the bed in a daze, trying to process the fact that she was wearing thigh-high boots with 8 cm heels, and that they were actually comfortable and practical.
With some reluctance, Anne took off the boots and handed them back to Natasha.
"Thanks for that. I... I think I understand now," said Anne in a small voice.
Natasha pulled the boots back on, re-equipped her combat knives, and stood up.
"Anything else I can help you with, Miss President?" she asked.
"No, I think I'm good for now. Thanks again," said Anne, as Natasha nodded and left the room, her heels clicking against the floor.
Anne fell back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling again, this time suppressing a shudder at how the boots changed her height and posture.
"This feels like brainwashing. But the damn things are actually comfortable! Aaron Zakhrov is breaking female solidarity with these things!" she said to herself, clutching the folds of the bedsheets in frustration.
She took a deep breath, and tried to calm down.
"It's fine. I just have to endure a couple of days here, and then I can get back to the White House and actual reality, instead of this nightmare," she thought, trying to reassure herself.
With that, she got up, and headed to the bathroom to take the long hot shower that she had wanted in the first place.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
---
Anne entered the Sirius Software HQ conference bar the next morning for breakfast.
The bar was a not really a bar, but more like a high-end fine dining restaurant, with a full menu and waitstaff.
Anne suppressed her annoyance at the clip-clopping heels of the waitresses, as she made her way to the table where Saladin, Gordon, and Natasha were already seated.
"Miss President, I trust you slept well?" asked Saladin, as he sipped his coffee.
"Yes, thank you," said Anne joining Aaron, Saladin, Gordon, and Natasha at the table.
A uniformed waitress in what Anne recognized as one of Michael DuPont's uniforms - a black blazer, white blouse, black pencil skirt, matte black pantyhose and black stiletto pumps, all in a sharp and sculpted cut - approached their table with a tray of toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon.
She stared in shock as Saladin delicately pierced a piece of bacon with his fork and ate it.
"I find Islam's dietary restrictions cumbersome, Miss President. And it is quite rude to stare like that," he chided her, as she blushed and looked away.
"Yes, well. Unlike you, I'm strictly kosher," she said, and the waitress nodded, serving her just scrambled eggs and toast.
"What's on the agenda for today?" she asked Gordon, trying to steer the conversation back to business.
"Russian president, Alexander Chekov is en-route to clarify Russia's position on the new treaty, and to discuss the details of the mutual defense agreement. He should be here in a couple of hours," said Gordon.
"When can we get back to the White House?" asked Anne.
"Tomorrow, after all the negotiations and meetings are done," said Gordon.
"Why can't we move the negotiations to the White House instead of here?" pressed Anne.
"Because, Miss President, until they are complete, we are still in an active standoff with just a ceasefire in place. We're stuck here for now," said Gordon.
"General, may I speak with you in private for a moment?" asked Anne, getting up from the table.
Gordon nodded, and followed her out of the bar.
Outside the bar, Anne turned to Gordon.
"General Harris, this place is messing with my head. The environment here is oppressive, but it is making me feel comfortable, the shoes that these women are wearing are supposed to hurt, but they're more comfortable than my flats. These contradictions are driving me crazy!" she said, her voice trembling with frustration.
Gordon wrestled internally for a moment, before he pulled her into a hug, and held her tightly.
"There, is that better?" he asked.
"Yes, but I can't keep clinging onto you like this," she mumbled into his chest, his warmth actually comforting her.
"Well, I'm a little out of my depth on that one. We still have some time till the Russian president arrives, so how about we get some air?" suggested Gordon.
"OK," said Anne, pulling away from him.
Gordon quickly radioed the Secret Service, and asked them to secure the perimeter of the building, and they left for the elevator.
---
Anne took deep calming breaths as she walked across the wide open plaza in front of the Sirius Software Headquarters building.
While the Sirius Software compound was mostly either sleek black glass or industrial gray concrete, there were a few potted plants and a fountain in the plaza.
She sat down on the edge of the fountain, and let her hand dangle in the cool water, as she watched the fountain's jets shoot up into the air, and the droplets glisten in the sunlight.
"So, this is how the other side lives," she chuckled wryly as she watched the fountain.
Her life until now, had been a politically aware, but ultimately sheltered one. Her parents were a lesbian couple who were both screenwriters and activists.
Growing up in Los Angeles, she had received modelling offers, which her supportive parents had carefully vetted to align with their values, and had turned down any offers that they deemed exploitative or inappropriate.
She had quickly built a successful modelling and activist career, and finally ran for office, rising from Congresswoman, to finally the Presidency.
In all that time however, she had only been aware, but had never been actually exposed to the kind of culture and aesthetic that Aaron Zakhrov had built at Sirius Software.
Now, confronted with the reality of it, she was confused and conflicted. Her upbringing and personal values were at odds with how she actually felt.
She spied Gordon standing resolutely at the edge of the plaza, looking at the massive black glass building that was the Sirius Software headquarters.
It appeared that he was trying to keep his distance from her, and frankly, she didn't blame him.
Their professional relationship and boundaries had been blurred and complicated by the events of the previous day, and she didn't want to make things any more awkward for him.
She turned back to the fountain, again trying to reconcile her feelings with her values.
"I think I'm done. I'll do what feels right, and I'll deal with the fallout later. After all. I've now got General Harris to help me," she thought, standing up, and walking towards Gordon.
"All right, redirect them straight to Sirius Software Aerospace and Weapons Division's Airfield. And coordinate with the SZPD for the protection detail," Gordon was ordering into his radio, as Anne approached him.
"Trouble?" she asked, as he sighed and turned off the radio.
"In a way. The Japanese Prime Minister, and the German Chancellor are both hitching a ride on Chekov's plane, and they're all coming here on a damn supersonic flight. I've had to get NORAD to stand down their air defense systems, and the FAA to guide that damn plane to the Sirius Software airfield, because Boston's normal airports don't have the infrastructure for a rebuilt Tupolev Tu-144 supersonic jet," he grumbled.
Anne giggled.
"Boys and their toys eh?" she said, and Gordon couldn't help but chuckle at her comment.
"You seem to be taking that news better than I expected," he said.
"I've done some soul-searching General, and I've decided that I want to explore this new world that I've been thrown into. Even if it costs me my voting bloc," she said, slipping her hand into his, and giving it a gentle squeeze.
Gordon coughed uncomfortably, and tried to pull his hand away, but Anne held on to it.
"Well, OK. But let's not get ahead of ourselves here, Miss President," he said, trying to keep things professional.
Anne smiled impishly at him, starting to enjoy the sensation of holding his hand, and the warmth that it gave her.
"Well, this is all your fault, General Harris. That little wall slam has awakened a side in me that I didn't know existed. So you have to take responsibility for that," she said, giving his hand another squeeze, while batting her eyelashes at him.
"Damn, you didn't look this good in those photoshoots of yours," mumbled Gordon, now being completely thrown off by Anne's flirtatious behavior.
Anne giggled again, and gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go.
"Well, let's go and prepare for the summit that seems to be happening in a couple of hours," she said, smiling.
Gordon nodded, and they headed back to the Headquarters building.
---
"Is that the famous HellVortex helicopter?" asked Alexander Chekov, as he and his entourage disembarked from the Tu-144, and saw the sleek black helicopters parked nearby on the tarmac.
"Yes, President Chekov," said the Secret Service agent who was there to meet them.
"Impressive! I'd like to get to the Sirius Software Headquarters on that piece of machinery. Can you accommodate that?" asked Alexander.
"L-let me check," said the agent nervously. He radioed the request to the supervisor, who was a little surprised by the request, but quickly approved it.
"Yes sir, we can accommodate that request," he told Alexander, who smiled and nodded in approval.
"President Chekov, are you sure you want to take that helicopter?" asked Hideyoshi Tanaka, who was standing next to him.
"Come on, Hideyoshi! Haven't you ever wanted to ride in something that looks like it came out of a manga?" asked Alexander, clapping Hideyoshi on the back.
"No I haven't. Manga makes great entertainment but terrible reality," grumbled Hideyoshi.
"Liesel, what about you?" asked Alexander, turning to the German Chancellor.
"I don't care how we get there, as long as we get there safely," said Liesel von Kleist, the newly elected German Chancellor.
"The two of you are no fun at all," sighed Alexander, walking towards the HellVortex, with Hideyoshi and Liesel following behind him.
The Secret Service moved quickly to prep the HellVortex, making sure that the interior was clean, and the jump seats were secure and in working order.
Alexander strapped himself in with the quick and professional movements of a man used to military equipment, while the Secret Service agents helped Hideyoshi and Liesel with their seatbelts.
"Ready when you are, sir," said the pilot, as she started up the HellVortex's engines.
"Let's go!" said Alexander, as the HellVortex lifted off the ground, and headed towards the Sirius Software Headquarters.
"This thing reminds me of my old Mi-24. Hey, gunner. Has this bird seen combat?" asked Alexander, as they flew over the Sirius Zone, two more SZPD HellVortex helicopters escorting them on either side.
"Not unless you count police work sir. This chopper stopped an armored truck, and helped put down a violent riot in Boston a couple of years ago," said Michelle Martinez, the HellVortex's gunner.
"Are all SZPD pilots women with sultry voices?" asked Alexander, as he listened to Michelle's voice over the intercom.
Michelle fought down a blush. "No sir, we have about a 60-40 split of male and female pilots," she said.
"Well, I'm happy to be flown by a pair of Valkyries such as yourselves," said Alexander, which caused both Michelle and Camille, the pilot, to blush furiously.
"Thank you, sir," said Michelle, as they landed on the Sirius Software Headquarters' helipad.
---
Alexander let out a low whistle as he stepped out of the HellVortex, and took in the sight of the Sirius Software Headquarters.
"I'd expect nothing less from the guy who helped build the Energia Lunar rocket, and who had the audacity to tell even me that it was a damn hotel," he said, as he looked up at the sleek black glass building.
"President Chekov, welcome to Sirius Software Headquarters," said Natasha, as she and Olga came to escort them with the Secret Service agents.
Alexander's eyes roved over Natasha and Olga, taking in their uniforms, but he simply nodded in approval, and followed them inside.
"What? No flirting?" asked Liesel, taken aback by Alexander's lack of interest in Natasha and Olga.
"I know when a woman is available and when she is taken or claimed, Liesel. And I respect that," said Alexander, as he followed Natasha and Olga into the building.
Liesel raised her eyebrows, but made no further comment, while Hideyoshi just shrugged and followed along.
They rode the elevator up to the conference room on level 100, and entered to find Saladin, Gordon, and Anne already there.
"Premier Saladin, a pleasure to meet you in person," said Alexander, as he shook Saladin's hand.
"Likewise, President Chekov," said Saladin, as they shook hands.
Alexander offered his hand to Anne, who shook it nervously.
"President Chekov, it's an honor to meet you," said Anne, trying to keep her composure.
"All right, let's get down to business," said Alexander, after Liesel and Hideyoshi had exchanged polite greetings.
"First, the subject of the new treaty between Libya and the United States. I believe that Premier Saladin has already made a concession for NATO to host a nuclear arsenal in Libya as a mutually assured destruction insurance policy. That is unacceptable. Instead, NATO can fold Libya into the current MAD policy that it has with Russia, and Libya be under no obligations to host any foreign nuclear weapons on its soil," said Alexander.
"A NATO presence in Libya is a non-negotiable for the United States. We will agree to a non-nuclear presence, but the US and NATO is firm in this matter," said Gordon.
"That concession as acceptable. Are you in agreement, Premier Saladin?" asked Alexander.
"I agree," said Saladin.
"As part of Russia's mutual defense agreement with Libya, we will be stationing a permanent Russian naval presence of eight nuclear attack submarines and four nuclear missile cruisers in the region, and we request the use of Libya's shipyards for the maintenance and repair of those nuclear-powered vessels. Is that acceptable, Premier Saladin?" asked Alexander.
"You have to pay for the maintenance and the use of the shipyards, but otherwise, that is acceptable," said Saladin.
"Of course, that is a given. However, the naval presence will be there as a counterbalance to the NATO presence," said Alexander.
Saladin's mouth twitched in amusement.
"I understand and accept those military containment terms, President Chekov. Be rest assured that Libya has no ambitions to take on both Russia and NATO at the same time," he chuckled.
"Saw right through that one, eh? Well, can you blame us? Your stunt with the Aristotle has everyone spooked," chuckled Alexander.
"I knew that it would happen. Therefore, I want to reiterate that what Libya considers non-negotiable, is that it is allowed free trade and movement between Libya, the Sirius Zone here in the United States, and with Russia. Any violation of that, and the rest of the treaty is off," said Saladin.
"You have Russia's assurance of free trade and movement, Premier Saladin," said Alexander.
"And you have the United States' assurance of free trade and movement, Premier Saladin," said Gordon.
"Then we have an agreement," said Saladin, as he shook hands with Alexander and Gordon.
"Premier Saladin, Germany has a request that is not related to the treaty," said Liesel, after Alexander, Saladin, and Anne had signed the updated treaty.
"And what is that, Chancellor von Kleist?" asked Saladin.
"It concerns two individuals, Friedrich Albrecht and Axel Albrecht, and their associated enterprises, Albrecht Nuclear Systems and Albrecht Automotive. I request that they be extradited back to Germany," said Liesel.
"Why?" asked Saladin.
"I'm sure you already know, but fine. I'll tell you. They were forced to flee Germany after the previous administration's crackdown on individuals and factions suspected of having Nazi views, ties or sympathies. The move resulted in an energy crisis, and a violent overthrow of the government. The only reason I am in office, is because I pledged to bring those two, along with nuclear power back to Germany, and give them the highest honors for their contributions to German industry and the economy," said Liesel.
"I'm afraid that you have to convince them yourself to return to Germany, Chancellor. They asked me for asylum in Libya, I will not force them to leave if they don't want to," said Saladin.
Liesel swallowed and nodded. "I understand, can you arrange for me to meet with them then?" she asked.
"That can be arranged after this summit is over, Chancellor," said Saladin.
"I-I have the same request for Hajime Yamamoto, and for the idol group 7-Star Crossed, Premier Saladin," said Hideyoshi, looking at Saladin.
"Take that up with them individually, and with Aaron Zakhrov, Hideyoshi. I was merely a facilitator for their evacuation from Japan," said Saladin.
"Very well, I believe the diplomacy work is concluded. Premier Saladin, would you be so kind as to show me to our host, Mr. Zakhrov?" asked Alexander.
"Of course, President Chekov. Right this way," said Saladin, rising from his seat and leading Alexander out of the conference room.
---
"Look, man. I'll be blunt. I don't care about the damn ships stationed at Libya. That's just to keep the snivelers back home happy and in line. You can just say the word, and those ships will be gone. Like I said when I first contacted you. I like your style," said Alexander, as he and Saladin walked towards the elevators.
"You seem to have the kind of manic energy I've seen in Americans, President Chekov," chuckled Saladin, as they entered the elevator.
"Yes well, I'm trying to inject some of that into my countrymen who still seem to be in this post-communist hangover," said Alexander with a shrug.
They exited the elevator on the 128th floor, and entered the lobby of Aaron Zakhrov's office.
"Natasha, President Chekov wishes to meet with Mr. Zakhrov," said Saladin.
"Of course, sir. Please follow me," said Natasha, as she led them into Aaron's office.
"The man, the myth the legend, Aaron Zakhrov," said Alexander, as he shook Aaron's hand.
"What can I do for you, President Chekov?" asked Aaron.
"Well, first, I want to thank you for injecting new life into that grumpy old bear of my cousin, Erik Gorbachev. After that Energia Lunar rocket blasted off, he's been over the moon. Metaphorically speaking," chuckled Alexander, taking a seat opposite Aaron.
"Well, I do appreciate his support as well," said Aaron.
"Next, I want you to know that Russia is on board with the idea of a parallel sanction-proof trade network between us, Libya and the Sirius Zone. Both Saladin and my own intelligence services have briefed me on that Cabal network that is responsible for the silicon and other supply embargoes, and I want to make sure they don't get a foothold in Russia. We have enough problems with NATO messing with our foreign policy as it is," said Alexander.
Aaron nodded. "This recently lifted blockade smacks of their handiwork as well. We have a breather before they try to put the squeeze again, so let's make the best use of it. For the closed loop economic system, we need at least four new nuclear cargo ships, and enough cruisers to escort them. Plus, we need to finish the Energia Lunar launch sites here in the Sirius Zone, and in Libya. With those in place, we can start expansion missions to the existing lunar industrial facilities," he said.
"And for that you'll need terrestrial sources for titanium, tungsten, and rare earth metals. OK, I'll get some of my oligarch friends on board with that. An independent trade network is good. A global monopoly on titanium is better," said Alexander.
"That it is," said Aaron, smiling.
"Onto other items. I love your tech. And I've finally figured out where the famed American engineering prowess that gave us a run for our money during the Cold War went. But here's the thing. Russia has its own military industrial revival plans, so I don't want you boys muscling in on our turf and poaching our customers. So, how about this? You guys stay away from the Indian and Algerian military markets, and we're good," said Alexander.
"I don't see any problems with that. I've already got non-aggression pacts with Algeria in place. In fact, I want to cut a deal with you for the Su-57 as an air superiority fighter," said Saladin.
"You do?" asked Alexander, surprised.
"While I value Aaron's partnership, I need to have some diversity in my arms suppliers," said Saladin with a shrug.
"And as you well know, building a fifth generation fighter is no easy feat. Even with Libyan oil revenue footing the bill, it would take me significant amounts of time, resources and capital to build one from scratch. And right now Saladin needs a proven jet more than any prototype I can come up with," said Aaron.
Alexander clapped his hands in excitement. "How about this then. I sell Libya the Su-57, you sell me the HellVortex, and we agree to a joint venture in naval shipbuilding. I've managed to modernize tanks and missile defense systems, and of course jets, but if I can plug the gaps with your stuff it would be a win-win for both of us," he said.
"That sounds like a great deal, President Chekov, what do you say, Aaron?" asked Saladin.
"That's fine by me. Let's draw up the contracts and get the ball rolling," said Aaron, his fingers flying across his computer's keyboard.
