NationStates Jolt Archive

Professor Maximilian Vittriol sat at his bar table nursing some Old Earth alcohol, something called Spanish Rum, whatever that was, it didn't matter he liked it.

As he drank he watched the news broadcasting on the HD. It wasn't anything overly unique, just some standard stuff about the weather, politics, and the start of the Bendii Circuit Race, but it made Maximillian remember, why he was here.

It was all so simple in his mind, why couldn't many others see it! Why was it that the people of the High Dominion saw fit to invest supreme powe in one man! It was stupid, he couldn't fathom why everyone allowed it, even if the High Chancellors leadership had provided almost a quarter T-century of peace, MAximilian knew that it was bound to fail.There was no way a man could hold that much power for so long without being corrupted by it, he was sure of it! Unfortunately, most of his fellow citizens didn't agree with him, and the only truly treasonous crime in the High Dominion was to speak out publicly in opposition of the High Chancellor's government system. not his policies, for the CHancellor Beauchamp had always welcomed reasoned criticism, but if you tried to form apolitical follwing, to build a party, then you were crossing the line. People disappeared for that kind of thing.

That hand't happened to Maximillian, but he had been removed form his professorship at Falas university, and moved to a second-rate college in the closest thing the High Diminion had to a backwater. THe reasoning being that there he could do no harm, because people wouldnt' listen to him any way, and he couldn't reach a larger audience.

He had managed to found a small movement of people though. The Falasmayon Democratic Movement, was less an organized resistance group, than a scattered group of like-minded ( and usually like-situated) individuals. They had plotted some act on rare occasion but had never had the opportunity, or the guts to really carry it out.

So Maximillian sat, and drank his rum, and thought. Little did he know that it would not be long before, his entire world situation would change, and his long- awaited chance to show the people the folly of their viewpoint might at last come...

(It's all yours Ortaga!)

Edwin Wormstrom, of the Ortagan Intelligence Directorate, walks casually into the bar. He is dressed in a simple leisure suit, a pair of folded mirror sunglasses hanging from his collar. He walks to the bar and takes a seat a few stools down from Maximilian Vittriol, he calls for a beer and pretends to immerse in the news broadcast.

After the better part of fifteen minutes, Wormstrom makes his way on down the bar and takes a seat beside Maximillian.

"Excuse me," he says and waits until Maximillian turns to face him. "Aren't you Professor Vittriol? I've read some of your papers, and I have to say they are very, very interesting."

He turned to face Wormstrom

"Ahh so you've read my paper Studies in the Democratic Facade of the High Dominion? Thats odd, few have, and you haven't been thrown in jail to boot." He looks suspiciously at Wormstrom, "I didn' tcatch your name sir, you wouldn't happen to be from the Office of Internal Security would you?"

Wormstrom laughs, a hearty thing, "Nothing so melodramatic, Professor. I am merely a scholar of the geo-political situation on Proxima."
He extends his hand, "Jared Munzi, University of Silesia. Your works are some of the basic course work back home in Ortaga."

Well." he says taking Wormstrom's hand. "I'm glad that someone thinks my writings are relevant and useful. Although all that they seem to have garnered me here, is trouble. That doesn't mean they're not true mind you. I m still sure that the lack of a real democracy in the High Dominion, is going to lead to serious problems. It is unfortunate that no one seems interested in listening to me, or any other of the few people who have bothered to try and have real political opinions. IT sems that I am doomed to forever be a whisper amomgst a hurricane."

"Don't be to sure, Professor. After all there is an old saying, from Earth I believe, even a butterfly's breath can create a hurricane."

Wormstrom smiles, "Or something along those lines. And indeed the concentration of so much power in one man could lead to difficulties. After all, look at some of the problems that we have with the focus of power in the Archduke. And we won't even mention the problems the Valinor or Takian monarchies cause."

Wormstrom sits his now empty mug down, "Perhaps we could continue this dicussion further, Professor? My apartment is just a few streets down. And at least that way we wouldn't have to worry quite as much about the...content of our conversation?"

"Don't be to sure, Professor. After all there is an old saying, from Earth I believe, even a butterfly's breath can create a hurricane."

Wormstrom smiles, "Or something along those lines. And indeed the concentration of so much power in one man could lead to difficulties. After all, look at some of the problems that we have with the focus of power in the Archduke. And we won't even mention the problems the Valinor or Takian monarchies cause."

Wormstrom sits his now empty mug down, "Perhaps we could continue this dicussion further, Professor? My apartment is just a few streets down. And at least that way we wouldn't have to worry quite as much about the...content of our conversation?"

(Sorry about disappearing. i was outta town.)

"Hmm, I must admit sir, I am intigued." Maximillian says, standing. "Gladly, My minders, are rather lax, and they wont expect me to be anywhere that they will be watching me for several hours yet. Lead the way."

Several minutes later they arrive at Wormstrom's small apartment, carefully setup by the ID and with a painful eye to detail to make the apartment feel lived in and well used.

Wormstrom shows Vittroil into the apartment's main living area where a pair of overstuffed chairs a couch and a low table set, surrounded by several bookcases filled with various books detailing Falas politics, a few Ortagan novels, and several other books on the history and politics of Falasmayon, Taka, New Ortaga, and Valinon. Several faded posters advertising older art exhibitions, movie debuts, and a poster supporting the Conservative Federation Party of Channing Ansel fill the remaining space.

"Please take a chair, Professor, and excuse the mess. I don't pay attention to household details nearly as much as I should. Would you like something to drink? I have some Valinor wine, some Old Earth whiskey, or perhaps something less...strong?"

"No thank you on the alcohol, i believe I've had enough for today, but I would like some Earl Grey if you have it." Vittriol seated himself in the offered chair. "Now Mr. Munzi, whatever might you have meant, by saying "don't be so sure"?"

"Ah, I see the Valinor habit of tea drinking is spreading well," Wormstrom says. He disappears into the apartment's small kitchen and returns a few minutes later with a cup of tea for Vittriol and a cup of strong smelling coffee for himself. He places the cup before Vittriol then takes a seat in the chair across from him.

"Ah, well, Professor allow me to explain myself a bit in that area. You see, besides being a scholar, I am also a selected representative of the Barton Foundation. The simplest way to say this, Professor, is that the Foundation shall we say believes that you and it share mutual views on the current state of government in Falasmayon. My employers also know a great deal about the FDM group you have been organizing over the past few years and are willing to devote a considerable amount of resources and influence to help you in your cause."

"As there selected representative I am supposed to inquire as to what you think you need in order to begin the process of...mmmm...furthering the electoral progress of your nation."

"And before we continues," Wormstrom says placing his now empty coffee mug on the table, "you should know that the location we are currently in is free from all monitoring and observation devices, courtesy of the Foundation's contacts within COMPNOR and the ID."

Maximillian seems slightly suprised. "Well sir, I think you have me at bit of a disadvantage. My group, if it can be called that, has always toyed with the idea of showing the people of this nation the error of their ways, but being largely a group of academics we've never mustered the will power to go through with it. Perhaps now is the time to finally get some real actions taken. Hmm, I will have to gather a few of the others to be sure, but i think we ca get plan together. Ideally we shold stike at Capitol Tower, but that kind of an assault is likely beyond even your foundation's means. Perahps some smaller operations first.


Targets like local and provincial government buildings and people should be accessible. there has been little history of political violence in this nation, so security has become rather lax in some areas. i might be able to have a plans together, to speak with you about by tomorrow. shall we continue this then?"

"By all means, Professor, feel free to consult with your fellow colleague. Neither my employers or myself expected a decision immediately or only from yourself considering the base of your movement. Also let me tell you one thing before you go, Professor," Wormstrom stands with Vittriol as he prepares to leave.

"If at all possible it would be highly convenient for my employers to have at least an initial long-range plan. At the start the Foundation cannot field the resources for an operation against the Capitol Tower, but as time progresses the Foundation will be more than willing to increase its various forms of support as success comes."

Wormstrom opens his door, "Until tomorrow evening, Professor Vittriol. Truly this conversation was very fruitful. I look forward to more of your discourses."

The vague look on Wormstrom's face shows that the last line was more for the advantage of whatever various Office of Internal Security may or may not have been watching.

Wormstrom closes the door as Vittriol walks away, he rapidly draws out his scomp-link, and selects his encrypt frequency.

"T3-882, T3-882," he waits for a few moments.

"T3-882, in. Orders, C-13?"

"Begin cycle cryption, mark," the scomp begins to cycle through the ID's encryption patterns, to make the brief tight-beam communication as secure as possible.

"T3-882, assign Team 6 to watch Alexander," Wromstrom says, using the codename for Vittriol. "Insure that Black Hand (Internal Security), does not bother him in his affairs. Be discreet, and tell them to follow operation plan Junta."

"Understood, C-13. Will comply."

Wormstrom breaks the link, then returns to the chair he was sitting in. He pulls forth a bottle of Old Earth whiskey, and fills a snifter.

He raises his glass to the poster of Channing Ansel.

"Regardless, Mr. Prime Minister, your plans for the future are irrelevant. And soon, the Earl will teach you that much."