18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 623

A call for peace talks demands a diplomatic attitude, but it seems our friends from the East have selective memory; they've taken a few blows and still, their pride is as tough as an overcooked steak.

They've been wrapped up and served like Thanksgiving turkeys, yet their lips are sealed tight with defiance.

In a post-apocalyptic world, who's got the time for coddling?

The aircraft carrier captain replied with a smirk, "Hey, our carrier's top-notch and ready for the long haul. What took you so long? Run into some trouble on the way?"

It's no joke—the carrier sent from the Southern Command had been launched just six months before the cataclysm hit.

But the one sent by our friends from the East had been in the water for a decade before disaster struck, making it practically antique.

Both sides knew their stuff, and it was clear that the Eastern delegation was seething beneath their skin, their faces turning as green as unripe apples.

"Pompous rabbits," they muttered, "not cute at all."

The peace talks were set aboard the Griffith destroyer, with both sides' carriers and submarines retreating 30 nautical miles.

The Eastern delegates sped over in their motorboats, the sea wind tossing their hair into a frenzy like a henhouse in a tornado. It took them a good minute to regain their composure.

Making sure neither side was armed, they entered the conference room with stern expressions.

The East didn't waste any time, opening with a vehement protest, "You've bombarded three of our fighter jets!"

The Defense Secretary, calm and collected, responded, "Your three armed jets entered our airspace with the intention of an air strike on our soil. The military had every right to shoot them down to protect our citizens."

"I did not, I did not," came the retort.

"Oh, but you did, you certainly did."

Stella, caught by surprise, thought, "...What?"

This was supposed to be a serious military negotiation, not some playground squabble. Had some trickster spirit taken hold of the room?

The Eastern protest continued, "And which of your eyes saw that we were armed?"

They would've loved to be armed, but alas, their ammo ship had been lost to a maritime storm.

"Sorry, but both of my eyes saw it quite clearly."

"And where are these alleged munitions?"

"We all saw it. If you want to prove otherwise, feel free to dive for them."

The East was fuming, "Then we'll salvage!"

The Defense Department offered a friendly reminder, "Please adhere to maritime law. No foreign nation or entity may enter without just cause, lest we consider it an act of aggression."

The discussion on this single point became a tug-of-war that lasted an hour, more senseless than a schoolyard argument. It was clear that both sides wanted to throttle each other, yet they forced smiles and polite language.

Stella's head was buzzing; she was itching to slap some sense into them.

The issue remained unresolved, so they traced back to the original grievance: Why the unprovoked air strike by the East?

At the mention, the Eastern delegate slammed the table, pointing an accusing finger at Stella, "You shameless robbers! You destroyed our Union Base in the Arctic, torched our oil fields in the New World, and slaughtered our soldiers..."

FUCK!

So much for territorial waters and airspace, it was those damn Aussies who couldn't play by the rules.

All eyes turned to Stella, who was utterly befuddled, "What?"

The East continued their tirade, demanding compensation and the return of their stolen goods.

Stella nearly laughed in exasperation, "Do you even hear yourselves?"

After the traitor had made off with their weapons and supplies, it was clear that they ended up in Griffith's hands. The East was livid, "We've found the Arctic. The Russians confessed, the camel admitted it—stop your lies!"

It was her, it had to be!

Stella remained cool as a cucumber, "In Australia, we have an old saying: 'To catch a cheater, you've got to catch them in the act.' Don't just spout nonsense."

She'd seen shameless, but never this level of audacity. The Eastern delegation nearly spat blood in frustration.

From noon till six in the evening, the talks made no progress.

As they parted, Nicholas gave them a look that could only be described as 'kingly contempt.' If they wanted to talk, they'd better be serious about it. And if they wanted to fight, they were more than ready.

Military negotiations aren't a social call; you can't expect to settle scores in one sitting.

A few days would be quick, a few months common, and years? Not unheard of.

Let's take our time and see who lasts.

The first military meeting ended without fanfare, to be continued the next day.

But it wasn't fruitless—far from it.

All that bluster from the East only revealed their lack of confidence.

Over a decade of disasters had passed, and they still clung to an old image of themselves and of Griffith. It was a futile display of arrogance.

In the end, might is right, and the true victor has yet to be decided.

The landscape of international politics was as complex as a game of chess, and tonight, the stakes were high. China was caught in a tight spot, as if they were wrapped up in a Thanksgiving turkey, every movement calculated and scrutinized. The question on everyone's mind wasn't about whether there would be any aggressive moves or not; the real concern was whether China could sustain the pressure for three to five months.

The grand scale of the operation raised another anxiety-inducing possibility: with their home base left vulnerable for so long, would Russia see this as an opportune moment to swoop in?

If their stronghold were to be seized by Russia in a swift move, akin to a surprise Super Bowl play, would there be a home left for them to return to?

Amidst these strategic musings, Griffith sat back, unruffled. He held the aces—timing, location, and popular support were on his side. There was no need for him to rush.

Dinner had been a hearty feast of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and after clearing the last bite, the team members gathered to debrief. They dissected the day's negotiations, aiming to come back even stronger tomorrow.

There's an old saying that resonates through the halls of strategy: "No one wakes up early for a deal that brings no profit." China, well aware of Griffith's strength, had still approached with fanfare. They must have a hidden agenda...