NOVEL NEXT Chapter 6: Negotiations and Realizations
After being summoned to this strange world, the very first thing I saw was my commander. He stood before us, practically glowing with confidence, as though he were some sort of immovable statue. He spoke about how he was "majestically" standing there, indifferent to the chaos unfolding around him. We were all new to this world, fresh arrivals from another dimension, but our commander didn't even bother to ask us for our names. Instead, he dove straight into giving orders.
"We have work to do," he said, as though everything had been perfectly planned, though I could tell none of us had any clue about what was going on.
Our first job was to settle the soldiers—simple enough, I thought. But that was just the beginning of what I would come to realize were a series of "tests" disguised as mundane tasks. Without any warning, our commander began to evaluate our critical thinking abilities. His methods were unconventional, to say the least. For example, when I approached him to report that I had completed my task, he told me to "enter," despite there being nothing to enter. I stood there, momentarily confused, before realizing that this was a challenge—a test to see if I could think on my feet and adapt quickly.
I gave him a quick response, and after a short pause, he motioned for me to speak. At first, I thought that was the only test, but I was sorely mistaken. My interactions with him quickly turned into a series of assessments that forced me to use my mind in ways I hadn't anticipated.
After my report on our surveillance, the commander shifted gears. He started speaking about future conflicts, particularly a potential skirmish involving Ukraine. His orders were clear: we would support Russia, not Ukraine. Then came the second and third tests, which arrived at the same time. The second test was strategic—he wanted us to come up with a counterattack plan to repel Ukrainian soldiers and reclaim lost territory.
I immediately began thinking, drawing on all my military knowledge, and the rest of the team followed suit. We discussed tactics, refining our plan with each suggestion. Just when we thought we had a solid strategy, our commander turned to us with a new challenge: we were now authorized to comment on his plan.
At first, I thought it would be an opportunity to add our expertise to his idea. But as we listened to him lay out his ambush strategy, it quickly became apparent that this was another test. The commander was gauging our understanding of military tactics and how much we truly knew about warfare. We had to think critically, not only about the enemy's movements but also about the commander's own strategy.
It didn't take long for us to realize that his plan had several major flaws. The ambush was riddled with gaps in logic—obvious mistakes that would have spelled disaster in the field. So, when the commander finished outlining his approach, we all jumped in, pointing out the weaknesses and offering our suggestions for improvements.
Just as we were wrapping up, an unexpected twist occurred. A soldier barged into the room with urgent news: enemy forces were closing in on our rear. The situation had escalated, and we had to act fast. I was already formulating a counterstrategy when the commander surprised me with a single command: "Raise a white flag."
It took me a moment to process. His calm demeanor in the face of such urgency was unsettling, but somehow, it made sense. We were dealing with Russian troops, and the commander seemed to have an uncanny ability to read the situation. How did he know they were friendly? His insight was sharp, and his command was precise.
I quickly gave the orders to raise the white flag, signaling our intent to de-escalate and negotiate. What came next was a diplomatic mission—something I hadn't anticipated when I signed up for this.
{Continues from the previous chapter.}
The captain's radio crackled to life, and I could hear the faint voice of our superior on the other end. The captain grabbed the device, his tone steady as he informed the Russians about who I was and why my commander couldn't speak directly with the Russian minister. The line was passed to me, and I steeled myself for what was about to unfold. Negotiations were never easy, but this would be different. We weren't talking to allies—we were talking to the enemy.
"Good evening, Mister Sergey Lavrov," I said, using the code language we had established.
"Good evening, Mister Stanislav," the voice responded. "I trust you're in good health, though the situation at the border may worsen at any time."
"I am well, thank you. I hope the same for you."
After exchanging pleasantries, we got down to business. The Russian minister wasted no time with formalities.
"I trust you understand why we're here," he said. "My country's situation is dire, and we need your assistance."
I nodded, listening intently. This was more than just an exchange of words; it was a negotiation that would determine our future in this war-torn world.
"Our demands are simple," I continued. "First, we require a ten percent increase in the discount for every Russian shipment to India. Second, we need you to sign a treaty that obligates your country to assist us if China decides to attack India. Lastly, we require access to your ports for the Indian Navy."
The minister took a deep breath. The demands were clear, but the stakes were high. "Fine," he replied, after a moment's thought. "We'll accept the discount and the treaty, but we'll only offer access to some of our ports, not all. As for the rest we also require your full support like Logistical aid, and most importantly, full control of your commander. We need him to lead our operations on the ground."
The mention of full control sent a chill down my spine. There was no way we could allow that. Our commander's autonomy was non-negotiable. Still, I kept my calm and responded, "We can offer support, but our commander's command structure remains intact. He will not answer to anyone but his superiors."
The line went silent for a moment, as though the Russian minister was contemplating my words. Then, after what felt like an eternity, his voice returned, more measured than before.
"I understand," he said. "But there are more questions I have for you. Can we trust you? How did you evade our satellites and reach the Bakhmut region without being detected? And what exactly are your goals in this war?"
The questions came in rapid succession. I paused, gathering my thoughts.
"Sir, you can trust us by verifying our credentials through any means you see fit—whether by sending spies or hacking into global databases. As for the second question, I cannot divulge specifics, as it's classified information. As for our goals… we are here to support our commander's mission. His orders are clear, and we will follow them to the letter."
Another silence followed. Then the Russian president himself came on the line.
"Hello, Mister Stanislav. It's a pleasure to speak with you directly."
"The pleasure is mine, Mister President," I replied, doing my best to remain composed.
"I've been listening to your conversation with my minister, and there are a few things that still don't sit right with me," the president continued. "First, how can we trust you? Second, how did you evade our surveillance? Third, what kind of control does your commander expect?"
I answered his questions as diplomatically as possible, but the pressure was building. The tension in the air was palpable. Finally, he asked the question that I had been dreading:
"How much control do we have over you? Can we treat you as mercenaries?"
I hesitated before responding, knowing full well the gravity of the situation.
"You can consider us as mercenaries, Mister President," I said carefully. "However, the difference is that we will not be under your complete control. You won't have to pay us, but you will give us the necessary support and, more importantly, ensure that our government is informed of our safety. You can't track us, but we will ensure that you know we are alive."
The president's voice came back, colder now. "And if we refuse your terms?"
"If you refuse," I said, "then we'll simply return to our previous positions. We are here to help, not to be controlled."
There was a long pause. Then, to my surprise, the president spoke again.
"I accept."
"Pardon?" I said, barely able to comprehend what I had just heard.
"I said I accept your terms," the president repeated. "Welcome to the Russian army."
It took a moment for the words to sink in. Just like that, without further hesitation, he had agreed to our conditions. No negotiations, no second thoughts. And with that, we were officially aligned with Russia.
What had started as a simple diplomatic mission had turned into something far more complicated. But one thing was certain: we were no longer just pawns in a game of international politics. We were part of something bigger—and the consequences of our choices were only just beginning to unfold.