Chapter 895: A Shift in Attitude

A senator’s wait a moment carries more weight than that of a representative.

Just as the elevator doors closed under the senator’s desperate gaze, they slowly opened again. Senator Landon smiled and asked, “Heading down too?”

The senator sighed in relief. “No, you left something in my office.”

It was an obvious pretense—everyone in the elevator knew what he really meant—but it served its purpose: avoiding any potential awkwardness.

Senator Landon found it a bit strange, but still stepped out of the elevator. “Did I? I must’ve left in a hurry. Thanks for letting me know.”

If he’d really come just to return something, he would’ve brought it along. Clearly, there was something he wanted to discuss privately.

Landon had learned in Congress that the more friends you have, the better.

He didn’t hold a grudge just because the senator had previously rejected him and told him to get lost. That kind of anger was pointless.

If a politician got angry at every slight, they’d spend their whole career in a rage.

Colleagues call them useless, the public treats them like dogs, and the media exposes their scandals—there’s not much room for happiness in this job.

You learn to enjoy life, to be tolerant and forgiving.

So the two returned to the senator’s office. This time, the senator invited Landon to sit in a chair that symbolized equality.

Well, almost—there was still a desk between them, representing the senator’s authority. Sitting on the couch would have closed that gap more effectively.

They sat in silence for a dozen seconds until the senator finally broke it.

“Earlier…”

He smiled and paused, as if nothing had happened. For ordinary people this might be awkward, but they were politicians.

Shamelessness is a prerequisite for politics—this kind of awkwardness doesn’t even register.

Senator Landon followed his lead smoothly. “Earlier? What happened?”

“Nothing. Let’s talk about that budget.”

The senator fiddled with a pen worth over a thousand Sol, spinning it in his fingers. “I reviewed the budget again after you left. There are some issues, but nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“My job is to identify problems—and solve them!”

Landon didn’t know what had made the senator change his stance so quickly, but he played along. “If anything’s unclear, I can explain.”

The senator shrugged and set the pen back down. “Maybe we should sit down with Mr. Lynch?”

“I mean, he’d be more qualified to address some of the technical aspects. No offense, of course—it involves some advanced tech sectors.”

Landon immediately understood—he lacked the clout. The senator didn’t want to go through him to strike a deal with Lynch. He wanted to speak to Lynch directly.

Fair enough. Landon was just a fortunate House Representative. A senior politician once joked in private, If I wanted to, I could get a dog elected to the House.

It was a joke—but it captured the House’s place in federal politics.

It was beneath the Senate—and barely above local offices.

City and state legislators might seem less powerful, but they held real influence. They dealt directly with residents—voters.

Back when Landon was in Sabin, he dealt with many city council members, backed either by wealthy local investors or the support of low-income communities.

With them, being tough worked, but too tough, and you risked protests.

In contrast, House Representatives are cut off from the grassroots, suspended in political limbo.

Above? Out of reach—that’s the Senate’s turf.

Below? No room left.

That’s why their position is so awkward—and why they’re motivated to climb higher.

Work hard, follow the party’s lead, accept assignments—and maybe, just maybe, move up.

Landon still had a shot. He was relatively young. If he stayed aligned with Lynch and kept his support, he might make it to the Senate.

He understood his role and worth and didn’t feel the least bit insulted.

“Of course, it’s just that Mr. Lynch isn’t in Eminence at the moment. You might have to wait a little.”

The senator hesitated. A little later?

Would that timing diminish his value?

That wasn’t what he wanted.

He wanted to appear just when Lynch felt the situation was hopeless—to offer hope, and show his worth.

Landon didn’t know what caused the senator’s change of heart, but he recognized that the initiative had shifted.

They were both federal politicians—skills were similar, but status made the difference.

Landon rested his hands on the armrests and watched the senator calmly, smiling politely.

After a while, the senator asked, “Can you get in touch with Mr. Lynch?”

Landon hesitated, then smiled. “Of course…”

After scheduling a casual game of basketball for next time, the senator saw Landon out.

Back in his office, just as he sat down, his friend from the Department of Defense delivered the footage.

This kind of thing was legal—roughly equivalent to submitting documents. It served as a reference for whether to approve the Defense Department’s additional budget request. No one could call it illegal.

See, federal politicians always manage to sort these things out with perfect clarity—they never get it wrong.

Back in the lounge, he closed the door and inserted the videotape into the player. The footage was slightly dull in color and rough in quality, but it didn’t stop him from grasping the reality it presented.

The nature of warfare was changing.

Each time a plane dived and pulled up just above the ground, violent explosions erupted from the forest below. The treetops shook violently, some trees even slowly collapsing.

Those were the effects of the explosions. The senator didn’t know how they achieved it, but he understood exactly what it meant.

If that forest had been, say, a battleship from Gephra—incapable of defending against aerial attacks—imagine a squadron of planes diving at it…

“It’s as if the bombs had eyes!”

He muttered in shock. Bombs with eyes—that’s what was truly terrifying.

Now he understood why the military and the Department of Defense were so anxious about this. Even as a half-outsider, he could see this was not something that could be left to chance.

Whoever introduces chance into this will become the “accident.”

At 10:30, he sat by the phone, listening to the busy tone in the receiver. He waited more than ten seconds, fully focused, not the slightest bit annoyed.

“It’s me…”

Lynch’s voice was unmistakable. The senator’s expression came to life the moment he heard it. A genuine smile spread across his face. “Mr. Lynch, forgive the intrusion. I’m a federal senator and currently serve on the Federal Military Appropriations Committee.”

He paused briefly to give Lynch time to register his title, then continued, “The Department of Defense recently submitted a supplemental budget. It’s near the final stage of review and should pass without major issues. There are just a few points I’d like some clarification on—when would be a good time for us to sit down and talk?”

He phrased it diplomatically: the budget would pass, but it would be best if they met in person.

Lynch immediately understood his game. The senator wanted to make sure Lynch owed him—wanted to lock in the favor.

That’s how federal politicians operated. If they helped you and it succeeded, they’d practically want to follow you around with a megaphone reminding you of their favor.

But if they owed you a favor, they’d downplay it as much as possible—unless they had no choice but to concede.

This also confirmed to Lynch that the budget was already cleared—the committee couldn’t stop it, and now they were scrambling to claim credit. Whether he accepted it or not, the outcome was already decided.

Still, there was no reason to embarrass the senator. He was a senator, after all—he might still be useful.

“Of course, Senator. I should be back in Eminence the day after tomorrow. We can go over everything in detail then.” Lynch’s voice carried a suitable warmth and familiarity.

The senator exhaled in relief. Lynch didn’t seem to blame him for the delays or suspect sabotage. That was a good sign.

The best word to describe how he now viewed Lynch was mature.

“Great, I’ll go ahead and book a restaurant…”

“No problem. See you then.”

“Well, I won’t take up any more of your time. Goodbye, Mr. Lynch.”

“Goodbye!”

After hanging up, Lynch was slightly surprised. He then called Mr. Truman and briefly explained the situation.

It wasn’t common for a senator to bow his head. Senators and governors were known to stand up to the president himself. Unless they sensed a real threat, they rarely chose to compromise.

Truman quickly gave him the answer: the Department of Defense had placed an order for an additional 400 aircraft, along with further research contracts.

They had seen the future in that footage—and they were desperate to seize it.