Summoning America

Chapter 163: Dietrich's Surrender

January 4, 1641

GVE-Occupied Follicus Island

Captured HME Base

Dietrich glanced at the clock on the wall. Twenty-eight minutes had passed since his officers left to ponder their dwindling options. The door swung open, and they began filing back in, faces taut with anxiety or hard with resolve. Some avoided his gaze, while others met it squarely as they took their seats.

"Before we discuss our response to the American fleet," Dietrich began, his voice devoid of the emotional fatigue he felt, "we need to address the significant division among us."

He paused, his eyes sweeping over the assembled officers. "Lieutenant Gruber believes we should continue to fight. Am I to assume there are others here who share this sentiment?"

Captain Muller, a young officer who had risen quickly through the ranks, shot up from his seat. "With all due respect, sir, we still have a fighting force. Why bow down when we can still aim our guns?"

Dietrich pointed to the tactical map sprawled out on the table in front of them. "Captain Muller, I assume you can read, can you not? The empty spaces were our carriers. They're at the bottom of the ocean now. What do you expect us to do, charge at the enemy while they launch missiles from afar? Further engagement is not a strategy; it is suicide."

Muller sat down, lips pursed, but not before locking eyes with a handful of officers who nodded subtly. It couldn't be clearer to Dietrich. A faction was coalescing right there, in that room, fueled by a toxic mix of national pride, youthful arrogance, and outright ignorance.

Captain Frisch interjected. "Sir, none of us question the bravery of our men. But valor isn't a substitute for capability," he said, directing his attention to Gruber, Muller, and their associates. "We owe it to them to spare lives if the alternative is futile resistance."

Dietrich could almost feel the room split. Some officers, mainly those who had been in combat longer or had done proper research into the Americans' capabilities, nodded in agreement with Frisch. Others, predominantly younger men, shifted uneasily in their seats.

"Time is not a luxury we possess," Dietrich reminded them, feeling the room's tension thicken. "In ten minutes, we will reconvene. I expect straightforward recommendations based on the unvarnished reality we now face."

The scraping of chairs filled the room as his officers dispersed. Dietrich walked over to the window, gazing out at his formidable, yet vulnerable fleet. There was no telling what the hardliners would do, but he hoped that words would be enough to get them to come to their senses. Though, some backup wouldn't hurt.

– –

Ten minutes felt like ten seconds, but when Dietrich returned to the room, it seemed like it was ready to explode. His officers sat, some with brows furrowed in intense thought, others wearing faces like chiseled stone. They seemed to be divided into three groups: those in support of surrender, those in support of battle, and those who were unsure.

"Let's hear your recommendations," Dietrich demanded, allowing no room for hesitation.

Captain Frisch spoke first, maintaining his stance. "Fleet Admiral, we need to surrender," he said, body and face positioned towards the dissenters rather than Dietrich himself. "It's the only way to ensure the survival of our crews. The Americans have the technology to wipe us out; they've proven that. We would be sending our men to their deaths for nothing."

Lieutenant Gruber shot to his feet, his fellow dissenters tensing up. "And what of our honor? Should we disgrace ourselves so easily? We still have two hundred ships!"