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Hawthorne’s heavy boots thump on the floor as she unceremoniously throws the door open and invites herself into Ikora’s study, arms crossed on her chest.
“Tell me you didn’t plan this.”
Ikora swirls on the chair and slowly looks up from the datapad in her hands. The words of the report seem to have burned into the peripherals of her vision and linger there, and it takes a moment to blink them away. Osiris gone. Civilian casualties. Chaos on the streets. Osiris gone.
“Opening a Vex portal in the Eliksni Quarter?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “Come on, Suraya, you know me better than that.”
“Don’t ‘Suraya’ me,” Hawthorne’s tone is a warning. Ikora pulls her lips into a line but doesn’t retort. “There are still bodies to be recovered from around Botza. Rubble on the streets. And then the people wake up to their somewhat democratically chosen Consensus suddenly shrunk down to a military government. Don’t think I have to explain to you how it doesn’t look good.”
Ikora draws in a measured breath and looks her straight in the eyes.
“You’re asking whether I planned to have the faction leaders cast out of the City to allow the Vanguard to take control over the Consensus.”
“Yes.”
“And what do you think?”
They stare each other down for a long, tensed moment. Then Hawthorne sighs.
“I think you are better than that.” She shakes her head, “But then again I also thought Lakshmi wasn’t a deluded idiot.”
Ikora lets out a soft, entirely humourless laugh.
“I had my quandaries about her behaviour as of late, but I didn’t think she could ever do something like that.” The Vanguard closes her eyes, and Hawthorne notices just how many wrinkles are marring her skin. “I still did trust her, to an extent.”
“What happens now?”
Ikora sighs heavily, shoulders slumping, and she is not even attempting to mask the exhaustion evident in the gesture.
“We have three options.” She looks back at Hawthorne, “Disband the Consensus entirely, attempt to draft new civilian representatives without causing another full-scale faction war, or pretend nothing really happened and run the operation as a two-people military government,” there is a hint of bitterness that’s slipped into her tone. “Or we can just throw our hands up and succumb to anarchy, blithely waiting until Savathûn wipes us out.”
Hawthorne rolls her eyes, and finally settles in one of the plush armchairs facing the desk. What little tension was left in Ikora’s body leaves at that, and the woman deflates into her own chair, the dark circles under her eyes instantly appearing this much deeper.
“Between both humans and Eliksni, there were almost fifty civilian deaths,” she says quietly.
“This is gonna sound harsh, but we’ve had worse,” Hawthorne points with her head at a Colossus helm in Red Legion colours displayed on one of the bookshelves, “and we’ve risen from it. Multiple times.”
“Ninety percent of the fleet is gone along with Dead Orbit. New Monarchy was basically our crisis relief system. I don’t even wanna think of all the tech the Cult took with them as they fled. Four districts have been evacuated—”
“You already have a plan,” Hawthorne interrupts her. “I know you, alright.”
Ikora looks at her for a moment, hand moving to fiddle with a pen lying on the desk.
“I do,” she says slowly. The other woman smirks.
“It’s not a military government, I take it.”
“No.” Ikora meets her eyes. “I was thinking of the opportunity this could be to include our new allies in the political system. I already talked to Mithrax; House Light will remain in the City and help rebuild after the attack. An Eliksni government representative would reaffirm their status as citizens with equal rights, duties, and vote as Human civilians.”
Hawthorne leans forward and rests her elbows on the desk, intrigued.
“And the Cabal?”
“Here’s the gist of the idea: two councils, one with actual governing power and the other purely advisory, to handle intrnal and external affairs respectively. The first would consist of representatives from all citizen groups—Eliksni, human civilians and Guardians—each with an equal vote, and their decisions binding in terms of City matters. The other would be a consultatory board, with a Vanguard member, civilian representative, and invitations extended to all allied factions: Caiatl and Mithrax for sure, maybe Petra if she’s got time to spare. This would give us a chance to form a united front, prevent our common enemies from using the divide and conquer tactic.” Her voice turns serious, firm. “The Darkness has always sought to break us apart. We won’t let it.”
Hawthorne stares at her for a long moment.
“You came up with all this in one night?” She finally says.
Ikora smiles faintly, “Granted, I didn’t get much sleep.”
“Okay then. Who are you thinking of regarding the City council?”
“I’d like your advice, actually. It’s gonna be the people’s choice in the end, but I wanted to make a proposition. Someone sensible, with a measure of public trust, but not a careerist like Hideo.”
“Devrim,” Hawthorne says instantly. “People adore him after all he did during the Red War, and he knows damn well how to reason with the Eliksni.”
Ikora smirks, “I’ll admit I’ve thought about him, but I wasn’t sure if he’d accept the offer.”
“Eh, I’ll talk him into it. Don’t worry.”
“Very well then.” The Warlock reaches for her datapad, scrolls to find her notes from last night. “I’ll have to discuss it with Mithrax, but it crossed my mind to invite Eido as the Eliksni representative. And for the Guardians, I’m thinking of Evie.”
“The Young Wolf made Councilwoman,” Hawthorne leans back in her armchair. “Smart.”
“She’s been dealing with the Consensus bullshit for years,” Ikora shrugs. “Besides, sometimes it feels like Guardians trust her more than they do the Vanguard.”
“A’ight, so that’s the City government. Now what about that civilian rep in the alliance council?”
Ikora looks up from the screen to meet Hawthorne’s eyes. “Well, I wanted to ask you.”
“Hm, if Devrim agrees to the City thing, the next no-nonsense person I’d trust this with is Navarro, but people might not approve of his past ties to the Cult... Chiyoko Mey, maybe? But we would be risking the foundries getting involved—” she cuts off when she realises Ikora hasn’t stopped looking straight at her. “Wait, you meant it as you want to give ME the gig?”
“You’re experienced in working with Guardians.”
“I hate politics!”
“It’s supposed to be an advisory board,” Ikora reminds.
“Yeah, with the Cabal Empress and Petra Venj the Regent-Commander, arguing about the fate of the solar system or whatever. No.”
“You’ve been the de facto link between Guardians and the rest of the City for several years now. Letting civilians into the Tower was your idea. You wanted to make them more involved in external politics.”
“Yeah, which doesn’t mean I wanted to make me involved in external politics!”
“What’s so different about this to what you were doing during the war?” Ikora folds her hands on the table, staring at the other woman with an intensity that makes Hawthorne look away. “You’re probably the only civvie who knows how Guardians think, and the only Guardian who knows how it is to be a civvie. No one else has that dual outlook.”
“Tess,” she proposes weakly. “Banshee. Eva. Anyone else but me. For Light’s sake, I don’t want to end up chained to a desk.”
“Is that what you’re concerned about?”
Hawthorne shrugs, “That, plus the fact I’m terrible at diplomacy.”
“Forgive me for saying this, but diplomats in general could use someone who can beat sense into them every now and then.”
“Wouldn’t that be like, an incident?”
“Not if you could argue it was within the scope of your duties,” Ikora half-smiles, and there’s a wry spark in her eye.
Hawthorne glares at her from under furrowed brows.
“Okay, in the hypothetical case that I do say yes,” she says slowly, “what would I have to do, exactly?”
Ikora’s smile is now full and triumphant, and Hawthorne finds herself overcome with the sudden urge to pick up one of the report sheets scattered across the desk, roll it into a ball and throw at her.
“I’ll have to run this through Zavala, he may have some specific ideas of his own, but what I have in mind for now is regularly scheduled meetings with all members being able to submits topics for the agenda. External politics, joint manoeuvres of allied armies, that kind of things. FOTC fleet is nonexistent now, so I don’t foresee heavy involvement of non-Guardian forces in the actual operations, but what I’d like you to do is provide a different perspective.” A shadow passes across Ikora’s face. “For all of Lakshmi’s meddling, the incidents between Humans and Eliksni in the past three months have been a proof of just how badly we’ve gauged the citizens’ sentiment and their views on this war in the broad scope. I don’t want the people to feel like we’re waging it over their heads. Whatever goes on out on the front lines is as much their matter as it is Guardians’.”
Hawthorne nods, then takes a deep breath.
“Okay. Let’s say… Let’s say I’ll do it. But,” she raises a finger, “I reserve the right to fall asleep at boring meetings.”
“Noted.” Ikora’s lips curl and there’s such relief in her expression that half of Hawthorne’s doubts about whatever the hell she’s just agreed to dissipate instantly. “But I can’t imagine it getting much worse than any of Jalaal’s speeches.”
“How did you even survive that?”
Her smirk turns wry, “Zavala is damn good at sudoku.”