Summoning America

Chapter 163: Dietrich's Surrender

Dietrich subtly moved his hand to his side, next to his sidearm. "Ships thatcannot fire a shot without being detected and destroyed," he retorted, locking eyes with Gruber.

"Then let it be so! Better to die with honor than live with shame," Gruber spat, his face reddening.

Dietrich's fingers moved to the holster. "Because getting annihilated by a missile from a ship you don't even know exists is an honorable death?"

Gruber didn't respond. Instead, he glanced at his comrades, as if exchanging silent words with them. Subtle nods amongst them, and Dietrich sprung into action, raising his weapon. Guards posted around the room emulated Dietrich's motion, aiming their rifles or sidearms at Gruber's faction.

Gruber held his hands up. "You wish to harm your fellow countrymen for the sake of kneeling to those foreigners?"

Dietrich shook his head, his tone low. "I hope it won't come to that. Lieutenant Gruber, Captain Muller, and the rest of you," he pointed at Gruber's faction with his free hand as he lowered his pistol, "you are relieved of your duties, effective immediately. Security, escort them out."

A set of guards grabbed the men, who left without a fight. The door clanged shut behind him, echoing through the chamber.

Another officer – this time from the undecided faction – spoke up. "Sir, if we surrender, there should be assurances for our men. Can we negotiate terms that ensure their humane treatment?"

Dietrich nodded, appreciating the practical concern. "That is part of what I will discuss with the American admiral. We'll need to get those guarantees, but the Americans have a history of treating prisoners of war according to high moral standards. The Lourians and Parpaldians were restrained peacefully, fed, housed, and experienced no signs of intentional harm. If we trust the Americans, our men at least have a chance at seeing home again –," he paused, turning toward the window, "a chance at seeing their families again."

"You're placing a lot of trust in the enemy, sir," murmured another voice from the back.

Dietrich fixed his gaze on the officer who spoke. "At this point, they are no longer our enemies but rather the arbiters of our fate. We have no leverage, and we must deal in facts, not ideals. All in favor of attempting a surrender, say aye."

A chorus of 'ayes' filled the room, with only a few abstaining. Dietrich didn't relish the decision, but it- was the one that weighed least heavily on his conscience. He signaled to his communications officer to prepare for a transmission to Admiral Hawthorne.

"As you were," he declared, feeling a twinge of both relief and unspeakable loss. This was defeat, but perhaps also a modicum of salvation.

"We're ready to transmit, Fleet Admiral," the communications officer informed him.

Dietrich gave a curt nod. "Patch me through to Admiral Hawthorne."

The line buzzed for a moment before Admiral Hawthorne's voice came through. "Fleet Admiral Alaric Dietrich, have you reached a decision?"

Dietrich glanced at the clock. Only a minute remained of their one hour ultimatum. "We have, Admiral. We are prepared to surrender, with conditions for the humane treatment of our captured personnel. We request written assurances."

A pause lingered, as if Hawthorne was consulting with others, or perhaps just relishing the moment. "Very well. We will transmit the terms of the surrender and the treatment of your personnel shortly. If they are agreeable, we'll expect your immediate compliance."

"Agreed," Dietrich responded. It was the word that would save lives, he told himself, but it felt like a betrayal as it rolled off his tongue.

The connection was cut, and Dietrich was left standing in the hollow silence that now filled the room. An officer handed him a telegram sheet – the terms of their surrender freshly typed out. His eyes scanned the document. It was straightforward: disarmament, internment, and repatriation assurances. He initialed the bottom of the sheet, his signature a shaky afterthought to the weight of the text.