NationStates Jolt Archive

International Diplomatic Terminal, Griffin, International Transportation Hub, Griffin, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

The large black aircar slid silently to a stop, the gravel under it crunching slightly as the counter gravity field let more weight rest on the Earth’s surface. The breeze snapped at the official flags flying from the front fender, one Sword and Stars of the Federation, the other the Flag of the International Relations Directorate.

Johnathan Currey glanced out over the tarmac, empty and devoid of anyone who did not work there. Last time he had been here, it had been at the beginning of the conference just after the Federation had taken possession of the Allanean Territory, and now he came here again to finish the occupation. Fitting that.

The Minister of International Relations stepped out of the vehicle, and walked through the wind to the terminal, the doors flickering silently open at his approach. Aircraft Gate Seven. That’s where the tower will be directing the Greater Prussian aircraft. Currey knew the ID Terminal like his own apartment suite back in the city, and proceeded quickly to where he needed to be.

The plane should be arriving soon, according to the time schedule he had been given, and his schedule was cleared for the next few days, while the discussions took place. Things were arranged, and the Prussian representative could stay as long as he needed to arrive at arrangement. A whole block of government owned apartments had been cleared, in case the crew of the aircraft needed a place to stay as well.

Currey settled into a dark blue armchair and prepared to wait, pulling out a small pocket notebook to make some notes on as he flicked through the files he had saved in his head.

tag for later postage

For the first time in years, the Emperor himself had opted to attend one of these foreign meetings. Partly because of his interest in the situation, and partly because all of his Foreign Ministers were abroad.

He sat comfortably on the the Imperial Jet as they cicled above the FSP Hub. "CrownOne to Ground Control, CrownOne to Ground Control...requesting permission to land."

Paisley knew that this would be tough, but he was prepared...and also intrigued to see what the Federation was like. To his knowledge, the Kingdom and Greater Prussia itself had never had any dealings with FSP in its entire history. This could be the first step towards good relations for all he hoped.

[taggedy]

Air Traffic Control Center, Griffin International Transportation Hub, Griffin, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

"CrownOne to Ground Control, CrownOne to Ground Control...requesting permission to land."

Guenevere Chadwick frowned as the oncoming Greater Prussian aircraft identified itself. The fact that it used only the number one in its call sign gave away who had to be onboard, for that had become nearly standard international terminology now. Obviously, the plane contained the Emperor of Greater Prussia, but they were not expecting him.

They had in face been informed that a minister would be coming for the discussions, and the presence of the Emperor himself threw off the calculations instantly. Something would have to be done, but for now, Guenevere had to get the plane safely on the ground.

“Crown One, this is Griffin ATC. All other traffic is in holding patterns; you are cleared for runway four at your convenience. Ground winds are West Northwest at three knots.” While Controller Chadwick spoke, the computers of the International Transportation Hub silently reached out and queried the oncoming plane, asking it politely if it wanted them to guide it in.

Most landings in the high technology Federation were handled by ground computers, especially in busy areas, such as the ITH, with the pilots along as backup, though it was unlikely the Greater Prussian aircraft would have the appropriate slave controls, or even realize it was being queried.

Switching channels, Guenevere flipped through multiple lines until she found the one leading to the communications terminal at Aircraft Gate Seven, International Diplomatic Terminal.

International Diplomatic Terminal, Griffin International Transportation Hub, Griffin, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

Currey looked up as the insistent bleeping sound penetrated his thoughts, and he stared as the communications panel lit up with the notice of an incoming call. He stood and walked over to it, seeing no one else around to answer it. “Currey, go.”

“Minister Currey? Ah, good. We’ve got a situation with the Greater Prussians.”

The International Relations Minister frowns. “Who are you, and what’s the situation?”

“I’m a controller over the ATCC,” replied the dark haired woman. “And the situation is that the Emperor is onboard the aircraft, not the minister we were expecting.”

“Shit.” Currey frowned deeply, and thought for a moment. “Am I correct in remember that the ITH Police have a Tactical Team?” At the woman’s nod, he continued. “Get them over here immediately to act as body guards. I’ll pretend we’re going with low key as a security measure, if anyone happens to ask.”

The woman nodded again. “Of course.” There was not anything else she could say.

Currey turned in place, thinking, then whirled back to the screen. “When’s the plane land?”

“Five minutes. It’ll be at the gate in ten.”

Currey frowned. “That’s all, then.” He reached out and killed the connection. Closing his eyes, he worked his way into FedNet and went straight to Cortana, informing her of the situation, knowing she would inform everyone that needed to know, including the Imperial President.

Meanwhile, this was Currey’s job, and by God, he was good at it. He straightened his tie, and sat back down, knowing that the airport people would show up as soon as they could.

OOC: Riechskamphen, if you could land and arrive to the gate in your next post, that'd be good. No sense in dragging it out. Assume it would operate like a normal United States airport.

The plane landed without incident at gate 10. The Emperor began to rise from his seat, he paused, wincing in pain. Two Imperial Guardsmen rushed to his side, bracing his arms.

"Your Highness, perhaps we ought to go home." the Sergeant whispered into his ear.

"No...I'm fine..." he responded quietly. "Let's go see how Sentient these People actually are." flashing his broadsmile he took his balance and exited the craft. As he exited the craft, the reporters met him...they were always there...always begging for more.

"Why did you Protest the election of the last Pope?"
"Why are you involving yourself in Allanea?"
"How do you justify compromise with the nations of Cherry Ridge, Jerusalem, and others?"

The questions came at him rapid fire. The last one hit him square in the chest. 'Compromise? Have I compromised?' he thought to himself. He then realized what his son had been trying to tell him...what it was that kept him up nights. It wasn't just the cancer. It was his conscience. He could see himself saying the words in his famous sermon "If ever this mind of mine should want to compromise...put me in a box! Take me out of this world! If Ian Paisley should ever think of Compromise, I don't want to live anymore!"

He brushed the reporters aside, not answering them like he normally did...ignoring his normally gracious composure. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He had a meeting to attend to. The future of the Empire was hanging in the ballance. He approached the FSP Delegation and extended his hand cordially. "I am Doctor Ian Paisley, Emperor of Greater Prussia." he shuddered at the title. Emperor. He had never liked it. God is the only King, he'd always thought. "I appologize for the surprise, but I had to keep it a bit quiet to ensure my enemies wouldn't catch up with me." he laughed jovially. "You need not worry about security for me, Fred and Herman here can take care of me." he nodded towards his two Imperial Guard officers. The Segeant on the Emperor's left laughed and said, "We were with him before there WAS an Empire."

"Shall we be off?" the Emperor questioned.

International Diplomatic Terminal, Griffin International Transportation Hub, Griffin, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

Currey frowned as he watched the Emperor debarking and being accosted by reporters. Painful that was. He supposed that they must just live at the ITH, though hoping for something significant to happen. Unless reporters had better intelligence gathering capabilities across national lines than the Intelligence Division. That was not a pleasant thought at all.

Fortunately, Paisley made it inside before being hounded too much, and Currey stepped forward to greet him, shaking his hand. “Johnathan Currey, Minister of International Relations. No problem with the surprise, we understand the security concerns.” He nodded at the last question. “This way please.”

Leading the way through the lushly ornamented terminal building, he showed the Emperor and his guards out to the aircar. His driver was holding open the rear door, and Currey allowed Paisley and his guards to enter first. “Take us to the tower,” he said softly to his driver before getting in himself, referencing the huge building that was the headquarters of the International Relations Directorate.

As the car moved off, gaining speed and altitude, he turned to the Greater Prussians and said, “Would you like anything to drink?” Waving his hand, he indicated a small wet bar opening near the front of the passenger area.

"No thankyou," Paisley replied courteously, "I don't drink. I find that being Irish and drinking don't often go together too well." he chuckled a bit.

OOC: The Reporters were there waiting for the Greater Prussian delegation, in an event such as this, I am sure they would have been awaiting someone on the level of Count von Katrineburg, who was supposed to bee attending, but were shocked as well to find it was Paisley.

"This is a very nice country," he looked out the window as the city moved by him like a dream. "At least, what I've seen of it..." the Emperor trailed off, still looking at the sights. Back in Reichsburg, the city where the Palace was, they were very finicky about the way their city looked...and maintaining its historical appearance. When one arrived, it appeared to be a shot out of 19th Century Europe...elegant, ornate, refined...but definately not with the apparant technology that this city showed. Though the Kingdom had it and used it, they spent alot of money concealing it for aesthetic purposes. "I would also like to thankyou for the warm reception." Paisley added, nearly forgetting his manners. "Though I don't drink anymore," Paisley began, "I could spot a fine wine back in my older days. I bringing you a few gifts from the Empire, to perhaps liven up the old foreign ministry." he gave a subtle wink. "First, I have 10 Cases of Chateau de l'Empereur, Cabernet Sauvignon. The estate was founded back when Napoleon was the official sovreign of the Confederation of the Rhine and is named after him. It is, in the opinion of most, the best wine in the Empire if not the world. I also bring two cases of Scottan Bourbon Whiskey...also some of the best. Other than that, we have several various cases of Reichskamphian hand made food and luxury items given to us by the producers to distribute as diplomatic gifts. Though there is much to be said for Mechanization, you can't get this quality from a machine." he then reached into his pockets and said, "Here is a personal gift of mine." he produced a Fountain pen for every single one of the men present. The pen shaft was crafted from carved Black Onyx, and in 24 carat gold had the Crest of the Leipzig-Thompson Imperial family with a sculpted golden crown at the top of the Pen cap, which was studded with diamonds. "This is just how things are done where I come from." he smiled. "If someone is nice enough to invite you into their house, you bring them a pie when you come...only in this case its a much bigger house, so we brought a much bigger pie!"

"Is this where our meeting shall be held?" he looked up at the soaring tower. The Imperial Guardsmen with him craned their necks to see the top.

International Relations Directorate Tower, Griffin, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

Despite the fact that the car was flying along at over a thousand meters, the angles involved and the sheer height of the monster tower conspired against the visitors, putting its top, another two kilometers away from them, well out of sight. The IRD Tower was one of the largest and tallest buildings in Griffin, but most of them averaged well over a kilometer high.

This was high tech, in more ways than one. As the car slide into a garage at its current height, Currey nodded to the Emperor. “This is indeed where the discussions will be held. Also, we’ve taken the liberty of preparing guest rooms in the tower, if they should be needed, as well. My office, and the conference room where we’ll be having discussions, is up near the top. There is an excellent view.” Alone, Currey took the offered pen and slipped it into his jacket. “Thank you. And as for the drinks, I’m sure someone will find a use for them.” He smiled as he patted his slight paunch. “I’m trying to cut down.”

The garage was black as the car came to a stop, but then lights lit the small cavern eleven hundred meters above the ground, revealing about twenty other identical cars to the one they were riding in. The door swung open, the driver again holding it, and Currey gestured with his hand. “After you.”

A few minutes later, Currey led them into an elevator, and spoke a command. “Executive Floor.” With no discernable sense of movement, the rapidly blinking numerical display the only thing showing change in location, the elevator car shot upwards towards the towering apex of the building.

"This is very impressive." Paisley commented to the man.

The technology he was not foreign to. They had it in many areas of Greater Prussia, mostly in the military realm, but he had never quite become used to it. 'Welcome to the Tower of Babel.' he thought to himself, inwardly chuckling.

"Will we be able to begin right away?" Paisley enquired, "Or will be waiting for others to arrive?"

OOC: I don't have very much to go on here without doing your part for you haha. So, lets just get them to the discussion table shortly.

International Relations Directorate Tower, Griffin, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

It took a mere moment for the elevator to rise the nearly two kilometers to the Executive Floor, the doors in fact slithering open as the Emperor completed his questioning. Currey nodded. “If everyone’s ready, I think we’ll be able to begin immediately. We’ll see when we get to the conference room. If they aren’t there, they should be along very shortly.”

Leading the Emperor and his guards down a short hallway, considering the massive footprint of the building, he showed the way into a room. A large conference table, surrounded by comfortable looking chairs dominated the furniture, and had the Emperor been briefed, he might recognize the people who sat around it. Minister Arthur Williams, Trade and Commerce Directorate, Minister John-117, Military Directorate, Cortana, Belinda Ranwell, Territorial Affairs Directorate. If any of them were paying close attention, they might even occasionally notice a slight gap in the people, letting light pass through.

But one’s attention could not remain on the table for long, given the view. The whole wall opposite the door seemed to be missing, or at least, turned to glass, looking out over the City of Griffin. Three kilometers high, the view went on for kilometers out to sea, out over the massive towers, the sprawling central parklands, and the gigantic mostly flat area of the International Transportation Hub, lining the coast. Further out, a ring of islands, green against the sparkling blue waters, and sharp eyes might even pick out bobbing naval defense platforms, black against the sea.

Ships filled the harbor, and Currey smiled, looking out over the city, as a plane at a lower altitude moved in towards landing. Gesturing towards a group of empty chairs at the far end of the table, he said, “Please be seated, and we can get started.”

Once everyone was comfortable, Currey sat as well, as the host of the meeting. “Well, Emperor, why don’t you outline your nation’s position, and we’ll go from there.”

"Indeed." Paisley slowly sat down. The Imperial Guardsmen eyed eachother cautiously, silently communicating, 'Should we help him?' as one began to move in his direction, Paisley shot him an icy stare. He backed away and Paisley sat down.

"Here is my plan gentlemen." he held out his hand and one of the Guardsmen handed him a large leatherbound book. He opened it up and inside was the official report of the Imperial Government on the Allanea Crisis. "I like things to be together." he said commenting on the binder.

"Now as you obviously know, the resistance in Allanea is getting to a point where it is endangering your men...and the situation of instability there could spread to who knows where. The Allanean people are extremely upset, and, no offense intended, but your use of force has been about as helpful as Abraham Lincolns decision to mobilize troops was helpful in preventing the Civil War. All past aside...we must deal with the situation we have now. And I want to firmly come down on this point. I am not an enemy you are negotiating with, atleast I don't prefer to be viewed that way. I am on your side. I want what is best for the world...I want what is best for your fighting men and women just like I would want it for mine. It's only common decency." Paisley looked up from the book, taking a deep pensive pause. "Now you will have to agree with me that your fighting men and women are in a position of utmost danger. What we need now is a way for you to get them out, and at the same time, save face internationally. The only way we can do this, is not approach it from the standpoint of being enemies. If you hand over Allanea to me and we approach the situation like I am enemy bartering for it. You will lose face. We need to approach it as two allies, one handing responsibility off to another. A mere exchange...not a defeat...not a concession either way. Just an exchange. If we feel the need for exchanges, and if you feel that you want to be my enemy...that is fine...but do it under the table if only for your own sake."

"Now here's my plan. We don't want your troops to withdraw from a city...then we have to wait days for the Prussian troops to arrive. We would have anarchy We need to do this incrimentally over I'll say about two weeks. We will start from West to East. Your troops withdraw from an area, followed by our troops moving in, with literally, maybe at most an hour's space in between, if that much. We cannot let the situation get out of hand. Over about two weeks, most of the country will probably be transferred. It doesn't have to go at breakneck speed...it just has to go quickly, but most importantly effectively. As fast as we can do it and have no problems...thats what I'm up for. Your men will have another week or two after the clearing of the country to leave the rest of the country including Allanean territorial waters to keep the fears of the people to a minimum. If something goes wrong, you can rest assured, they won't know about it unless we let them. I plan to clamp down tight to begin with. Until you leave for good, media will be in government hands, as well as pretty much every other important facet of Allanean existance. As soon as you leave, we will transfer previous freedoms to the civilian and business sectors and get industry to work. We will give it some subsidies which will be for the express purpose of hiring workers...get these protestors a job and some food and shut them up."

He turned to the next section of the book. "Kazansky will be on unofficial exhile on an Island Palace. It held the Imperator of Akilliam for a few years and it is essentially escape proof. There will be a garrison of Imperial Guard there to protect/contain him. He will not be allowed to return to power. We will shoot him if we have to."

"Next," he flipped to the next section of the book, "We will then appoint these leaders" he held up the book with the pictures and bios of differant regional leaders. "to command positions. They have all been judged and proven loyal to the Crown. We want to get as many Allaneans in the government as we can to avoid the apperance of a puppet government. Next, we will take each region of the country, and make it a Duchy or a Kingdom, or some other form of state. Each of these states will be given Allanean nobles and Monarchs. Each monarch will exercise power over his peoples hearts and minds ideally and increase sectionalism in Allanea, hopefully to the point that allegiance is more accorded to the Kingdom than the country as a whole. Even if this does not happen, there is no foul. I will place every square inch of Allanean territory under my personal protection and declare it an Imperial Protectorate. Allaneans who wish to enlist in any armed forces during this phase will enlist in the Imperial Guard and help defend their country. This way we will keep the Allanean Army from regaining any type of great strength while satisfying their need for protection and self defense as well as representation in the Army."

He took a deep breath.

"Now understandably, these conditions will not endure forever. Over time, we will have to gradually return sovreignty to Allanea. When we do, I give my personal word that every action will be taken to ensure that sovreignty is regained in the form that is most beneficial to the world and to the future of Allanea. Furthermore, with the Empire exercising strong influence over it, Allanea will no longer be capable of waging these aggressive wars."

International Relations Directorate Tower, Griffin, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

Currey’s face became harder as he listened to the Emperor’s plan. “So essentially, you want us to flop over and dance to your tune, is that it?” He barked out a short laugh. “Frankly, you seem to have us confused with someone else, Emperor Paisley. We are enemies. The Federation has been in a state of war with the Five Kingdoms for over five years, officially, and by extension, the entire Metus Alliance. Of which you are a part.” Currey smiled. “To put it bluntly, we asked you here so arrange a peaceful transfer of power, because we don’t, and have not ever, wanted to keep Allanea. But you walk in and attempt to dictate terms to us as if Allanea was yours to do with as you pleased.” The smiled vanished. “The fact is, it is not yours. It’s ours right now. We’re willing to make it yours, but you cannot have it if all you are willing to do is dictate.” Dark eyes burned down the length of the table. “If that is all you came to do, the car will return you to the ITH and you can attempt to take Allanea by force, if you truly want it.”

Currey settled back in his chair, his arms resting comfortably on the leather pads. “I asked you for your position, not your plan. Where is your evidence that supports us returning Allanea to you, assuming it ever belonged to you? Your signed documents? There must be something besides the threat of force backing your case. Further, what are you willing to offer for the territory? We have it, you want it. There must be a trade of some kind. Negotiations require concessions on both sides.”

OOC: Sorry for lack of postage, Been uber busy. I will reply in short order either tonight or tommorrow.

"Pardon me sir," Paisley began, the calm tenor of his voice undermined by the grating and obvious tension underneath it, "but I was merely trying to present a situation to help both of us. I was looking out to make sure you didn't lose face."

He adjusted his position in his chair. "It seems you have me confused with Melkor. I am a Reverend, the Moderator of the Free Presbyterian Church. I am a man of GOD not a man of darkness like that two bit horse thief Melkor and his hordes of unGodly demons! NO SIR, I am not Melkor. Infact I'm sure you heard on the news the stink it caused over there when I made an anti-Metus, anti-Melkor speech to the region and ipso facto the world. I came to perhaps ease tensions we have between us. Tensions that Greater Prussia has done nothing to create or maintain. The tensions are a result of your past associations with Melkor. And as much as you may not want to believe it, we don't like him anymore than you do!"

"My Emperor is a good man!" one of the Imperial Guardsmen yelled out, overcome with emotion. Paisley placed his hand upon his arm, pressing hard enough to pass along the "shut up" signal.

"I will not cheat you, I will not steal from you. I will not attempt to negotiate more than I deserve from this situation. But if you want proof that what I claim is true, I will give it to you. First, I will give you an exerpt from the law that establishes the powers of the Crown. This is from Decree number 3 of the Greater Prussian Imperial law code."

"Concerning the Powers of the Crown.

The Power of the Crown is complete and absolute on all matters concerning the protection and Preservation of the Greater Prussian Empire, its Economy, its heritage, its People, or its laws.

The Crown is vested with all temporal Power accredited to the State, and is the obligation of all those possessing the title, or exerting the influence of the Imperial Crown to always be mindful of the wellbeing of the citizens of the Empire, yet never overstep one's bounds and over use one's power.

The Emperor as head of State, is also the Supreme Commander of all the Imperial Armies, Navies, Airforces, Special Operations Forces, etc. etc. and his power is to remain unquestioned in these areas. However, it is the responsibilty of a good Emperor to delegate power to others if he is unlearned in these areas to better protect and defend the State, yet still maintain power over the entire structure."

"You see, my claims are true." Paisley then slid a stack of documents over to the Ambassador. "The Greater Prussian Crown respects the situation that you were previously engaged with and as you can see, has taken the former administration members out of power within its structure and even placed Kazansky under house arrest on an island several miles off the coast of Reichskamphen. These documents have to do with the removal of Allanean officials and Kazansky's situation. Also included in there are documents proving beyond a doubt that Allanea was a member of Greater Prussia when you attacked, namely the Decree of Acceptance which I signed myself on the indicated date (2 wks rl) a long time before you attacked Allanea. When you attacked them, you attacked the rest of the Empire, and had it been anyone else for whom I had less respect, I would have launched then and there. But this situation has passed, what we need to concentrate on is how to get out of it. The Empire wants the territory back, and you want out. Now what we need to speak about it recompensation. It is only fair that you should ask recompensation from Allanea if they did a wrong to you, but if you have already taken money, and taken compensation, then you are owed nothing. And what I would ask to see is documented proof that you have not done so before I will discuss any ammount of recompensation. We don't want you to dance to our tune, as you so put it. We just want you to dance out of our territory."

Paisley finished finally. He took a few measured breaths. He was getting to old for this. How he hated being diplomatic. It just wears one down.

OOC: Reichskamphen, the only piece of evidence I want to see is an OOC link to the thread where Allanea joined Greater Prussia, dated sometime before August 20.

International Relations Directorate Tower, Griffin, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

Currey smiled at that, pleased to be getting somewhere. He reached out and took the documents, sliding them down the table in front of him. “Regarding the recompense, that’s why I asked Minister Williams to be here.” He flipped open the folder and began to examine the contents.

A shorter, chubby, balding man, about thirty, nodded to the Emperor. “Basically, we want to see some return on our investments. Currently, the Federation Government owns the water grid and supply in Allanea, as well as the electrical grid. We’re willing to turn that over to you, for a price. Otherwise, we keep running it, or we destroy it.” He took a deep breath. “About a sixth of the pre-war Allanean industrial base is online, including maybe a third of the heavy industry and mining, as well as ninety odd percent of their agriculture. Most of the industry is either owned by Federation based companies or the Government. Again, we’re willing to be bought out, continue running it, or destroy it. We don’t expect you to pay for the occupation, or any such nonsense like that.”

OOC: This was done over tellegramme and I think that telle cycled out. I am a man of honour and will vouch that it was so. I can get most everyone in the region to vouch likewise. When you attacked, I was away at college getting settled in and when I got access to the internet, I come to find a piece of my empire invaded. Needless to say, had I been around, things would have progressed much differantly. How, I cannot say, but some action would have been taken. Whatever, though, its done now, no use griping.


The Reverend leaned back in his chair, placing his fingers together contemplatively. "This is indeed good to hear."

'At least these people are reasonable' he thought to himself. 'That filthy monster Melkor had no concept of reason, or honestly, or fairness.'

"There is no need to destroy the industries and utilities you operate." Paisley leaned forward. "Nor, do I think it is a very good idea to keep operating them. When the rest of your men leave, they will become token symbols of the federation and could draw attacks. We don't want anymore dead. The Empire will buy the industries from you, because that is only fair. How much do you have invested in them?"

"Also," the Emperor hushed his tone respectfully, "How many of your people have died? If it is possible, I would like the names and addresses of immediate family members that the Crown might mail them a token of our appreciation for the efforts and life of their loved one. A dead soldier is a hero no matter for what side he fights."

OOC: Fine by me. Frankly, well, you've read all the TG's I've sent you, so you know the sentiment that would be expressed here.

International Relations Directorate Tower, Griffin, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

Williams nodded slowly. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't be fair to charge what it would've cost the Allaneans to replace it. I've been authorized to negociate on behalf of our companies as well, and they're willing to go as low as a one percent profit margin, which isn't unreasonable, at least in my opinion. As for the Government stuff, you can have it at cost. Total, over the last year, it comes to just short of a trillion universal standard dollars." A holographic page popped to life before the Emperor. "It's all detailed on there, and I can provide you with hard copy or any electronic format you need before you go."

Just then, Currey looked up from the folder. "This all seems to be in order. I'm sorry for being harsh earlier, but I had to make sure. I'm sure you understand the need to check everything. I'm authorized to sign the Allanean Territory over to you as soon as we work out all the details of the power transfer."

This is when John-117 spoke up, softly, and a second holographic page sprung to life by the first. "That's a list of the people we've lost, organized by position and rank. About three hundred soldiers, four hundred or so non-military government employees, two hundred and fifty civilian adults, and about fifty children in an attack on government housing just the other night. Word that we were entering into negotiations seems to have sparked off armed resistance, which we began massive operations to suppress this morning."

"You did what you have to." Paisley sighed, "But try to keep the operations to containment. If you allow me to address the people of Allanea, then I believe the violence will subside. If you will let me take a disc of the names, I will send them all something."

He then paused for a moment checking his personal data tablet. "Very well, we will buy the utilities and all necessary things from you."

He slid the tablet away and leaned back in his chair. "Now as for the long term plan I have presented...I can find very little apparant flaw in it. What are your thoughts gentlemen?"

International Relations Directorate Tower, Griffin, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

Currey nodded. "It sounds good to me, but I'm not the expert. Belinda? John?"

The Minister of the Territorial Affairs Directorate nodded. "My main problem is the direction. You're proposing coming in the West, while I think the best plan might be to come in from the East, at least in Allanea Proper. The best areas for beach landings, and the couple of ports we've managed to get at least semi-functional are located on the Northeast coastline. For Hestonia, you'll obviously have to come in the from the West, and Atlantic Island is probably best from the South. If that's acceptable to you, of course..." Her voice trailed off hopefully.

John spoke up then. "Well, as for the method of withdrawl, I'd prefer to have my troops out of there at least three hours before you roll in. Three hours allows time for mistakes and screwups that are bound to happen on an operation of this scale. I'd rather not have us shooting at each other if it could be avoided." He smiles wanly. "The actually evac would probably only take a week or so from any given area. What I'd like to do is form a double perimeter once we start to pack up, a loose outer perimeter of some of your troops, and a tighter perimeter of Sec-2's. Once we pull the power, our bases will be pretty vulnerable, as they are quite large and spread out. We're willing to turn the bases over to you, once we strip them, but at least your men will have somewhere to live beyond tents once we move out." He nods, almost to himself, as if consulting a display that no one else can see. "I figure we should start with Atlantic Island and Hestonia, and after those two are transfered, we use our learning experiences there to speed up Allanea Proper. I figure seven weeks if we set things in motion tomorrow."

Cortana spoke briefly. "We can arrange for you to address the populace before you leave, but I can't promise they'll be listening. My reports indicated that upgrading Allanea's status from occupied territory back to warzone might be in order."

"Well," Paisley responded to the last comment, "If it becomes a warzone, it will be a war we will fight with you."

"I like the idea you proposed of Atlantica and Hestonia, but I think that simultaeneously, we should come in from the west. Probably cut down the operation time by a couple weeks. We have the men on hand to do it well." Paisley paused to consider his words. He carefully then began, "My concern about the time between occupation is that there will be three hours where all hell can break loose. We simply have to trust eachother enough in this situation unless we want the situation to spiral out of control and begin losing scores of both of our men."

Leaning back again, making a slight sigh as his back pained him, he raised his eyebrows reassuringly, "I assure you that the troops taking this operation are the Imperial Guard, they take orders only from me. I will order no attack, and these men are anti-Metus, and anti-Melkor for the most part, so they have no feeling of resentment towards you whatsoever. Truth be told," he leaned in as if sharing a secret, "Our forces may have to come in contact for a decent ammount of time to pull this off successfully. That is why I said at the beginning that we should approach it from a position of friendly relations as opposed to a position of hostilities...because if it is approached that way...Lord knows what will happen. Our men better start getting used to working with eachother is all I have to say."

Belinda nodded. “Hitting Atlantic Island from multiple directions should be fairly simple, but I’m afraid that to approach Hestonia from a second direction is going to require airdrops. And coming in from the southwest of Allanea Proper, well, it can probably be done. I was just trying to think of a way you could leave your covering naval force in one location, and coming in from the Northeast lets it cover both the Atlantic Island and Allanea Proper landing forces. But you can probably manage five seaborne thrusts and an airdropped one.”

John also nodded at Paisley’s comment. “Well, you’re right there. Pulling out completely is just asking for anarchy in the mean time. But after a year in Allanea, most of our troops are a bit frazzled. How about we pull our organic troops back with a three hour interval, and leave the Sec-2’s in place. Since we don’t have that many organic troops there, relative to our total occupation force, that will leave most of our forces in place until yours arrive, and provide a better likelihood that your forces don’t end up on the receiving end of a particle cannon or gauss cannon blast from some nervous tank gunner. When your forces arrive, we’ll pull the Sec-2’s back, or we can leave them in place, if you want.”

OOC: Is there a map of Allanea, I'm a pretty proficient military planner, so I Think I can take care of alot of this if there is an actual map.

IC: "Sounds fine." Paisley said. Then he added, "Yes, pull your humans back. And once our men are in place, you can pull your machines out, for unless they have intelligence of their own, then they will not fire on us."

OOC: Other than the Haven Regional map, I don't know of a map of Allanea. You'd have to ask him. If there is one, he hasn't shared it with me. There is a copy of that map in the Allanean Independence Rally thread.

Currey nodded slowly. "You buy the utilities and industries from us for the price there. We withdraw our organic troops at T-plus three hours, followed by Sec-2 withdrawal after you are in place. You can have your people on the ground coordinate with local commanders I suppose on that. We begin complete withdrawal after you're in fully, and we hand over our bases once we're gone. Allanea is restored to the path it chose, but under your watchful eye, and if necessary, iron boot, since that is indeed the path Allanea chose."

Currey smiled. "That's fine with me, and all the rest of us here. Frankly, we never wanted Allanea to begin with, and always planned to withdraw, but we felt it was necessary for someone to take them to hand once Zero-One crushed them. I believe you'll do just as well as we would have, perhaps even a little better, and you have more interest in the project." He rested his hands flat on the table, and grinned broadly. "I can have my people draw up the relevant paperwork over night. If you'd like me to show you to the rooms we set aside for your party, we can all sign and go home happy in the morning, no?"

"Sounds decent to me." Paisley said with a grin, rising from his chair, refusing the help of the Guardsmen.

OOC: Do you want to RP the actual withdrawal or just assume it happened?

OOC: I’d rather at least do some RP about the hand off of power. We don’t have to be all that detailed, though.

Currey rose as well, as did all the members of the Executive Council present, in as much as they were present. “Well, if you’ll come with me, Emperor, I’ll show you to the rooms.”

He led them back down the corridor to the lift, which then went down about twenty floors at the command “Ambassadorial Suites”, before leading them into another corridor, much the same as the one they had just left, before arriving at a room and showing the Emperor inside.

Night was falling over Griffin, and the lights of the towers outside gleamed in the twilight through the large window. The carpet was deep, and the furnishings opulent, though not too much so. Perhaps merely comfortable. It was a suite of five rooms, including a full bath, two bedrooms, a central living area, and a kitchen/dining area.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable here, Emperor. Cortana will be here in the morning to pick you up. You should find some of your things from your aircraft in the bedroom. If you need anything, just call for Spider. He’s the tower’s AI. Until we meet again, goodnight.” Currey paused for a moment to see if there were any questions, then departed.

* * * * *

The next morning, Cortana arrived well after dawn, one might have even called it mid-morning. When she met the Greater Prussians, she smiled and greeted them. “Good morning, Emperor.”

As she led them back towards the conference room, she turned to the Emperor. “I’m merely wondering what you might say if I told you we intercepted a transmission from someone claiming to be Kazansky last night, and we also have an unconfirmed report of his death in an aerospace fighter accident?”

OOC: References:

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=360583 – Death Report
http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=360443 – Transmission

OOC: It is possible we will be resisting Empire troops as well. :)

OOC: Anything is possible. >:-)

IC: "Good morning." the Emperor replied. "Thankyou for providing for my comfort. Shall we be at the meeting then and have a breakfast on the run?" He paused for a moment considering the news about Kazansky. "Good." he finally replied. "He would have been an......impediment....."

Cortana shrugged as she led the Greater Prussian party back into the conference room, the table of which was piled high on one side with light breakfast foods, such as fruit, bagels, and other items one could eat cleanly with one's fingers. On the other side of the table lay two open folders, containing identical copies of the treaty, with golden pens by them.

Cortana gestured to the food. "Help yourselves. Minister Currey was a bit delayed, but he should be here soon." She seated herself in a chair near the end of the table where Currey had sat the day before, propping her leather booted feet on the edge of the table. "Frankly, I doubt that Kazansky is actually dead, and I'm more inclined to believe the intercepted transmission, myself. Might I have your permission to put a price on his head, assuming he is indeed still alive?"

Paisley looked up from his scone as he buttered it. "If Kazansky is dead, my name is Mother hubbard. I'll contribute to the bounty. I want his head on a pike." Paisley took a bite out of the scone. Pouring himself a cup of coffee he inquired, "As of now, we have a bit of a problem covering Allanea from space, so would it be fine if you managed to keep a couple of ships in orbit?"

Cortana nodded. "I can't speak for the Military Directorate, but First Fleet is also Home Fleet. I can't imagine more than half of them departing Earth at any given time. With a hundred sixty ships at a minimum, plus the three battlestations, I'd say Allanea will be covered as long as you would like, though once we withdraw our troops, I hope you understand that we would want to limit out involvement to as minimal as possible."

She toyed idly with a lock of her purple hair. "As for the bounty, I was figuring on fifty million Federation credits, or about seventy million Universal Standard Credits. Of course, we would require the body as evidence, if nothing else so you can mount his head on a pike. You can add whatever money you want on top of that."

"About 43 million Reichskoenigs, we will essentiallypost the same ammount as your bounty. We will match it." Paisley sipped his coffee. "We understand that you wish to keep involvemet to a minimum. I doubt we will need much involvement. It's just a safeguard you know, until we can get Imperial Ships up there to do the job."

Cortana's eyes seem to dim for a moment, and then she blinks, smiling at the Emperor. "I've just checked. We can leave some ships in place as long as you want them. Further, I've posted the bounty on Kazansky's head throughout the worldnet. Everyone should know very soon."

She popped her chair upright, letting her booted feet hit the floor with a thud on the carpet as Minister of International Relations Currey walked into the room. "Sorry I'm late, Emperor. My six-year old daughter was refusing to go with her mother for her yearly physical." He reaches out and pulls a grape off the tray, swallowing it nearly whole. "Shall we bring this to a close by signing the treaty? Your Guardsmen and Cortana can act as enough witnesses, at least under Federation Law."

"Sounds decent to me." Paisley said as he finished reading over the treaty (OOC: Don't throw in any odd clauses or anything for Paisley would have read them.) He picked up his pen and signed, rolling the inkblotter accross it. "This is going to be a tough job." he sighed.

Currey quickly signed the treaty without reading it, having read through it before he arrived, and having made sure nothing odd, beyond what had been discussed was in it.

His people were always playing pranks like that, like he remembered that the first copy of the treaty had contained the phrase 'Alexander Kazansky is a doo doo head.' as one of the clauses. He had had to correct that before Paisley saw it. This one had no alterations, though, from the discuss materials.

He offered his copy to Paisley for his signature, and slid Paisley's copy over to sign, again quickly dashing off his official signature. Johnathan Currey, Minister, International Relations Directorate, for the Imperial President, D'ron Christopher Smith. It could be pain in the ass, but that was how he had to sign.

Treaties were not legal, after all, unless the Imperial President, or his designated representative, signed them. He grabbed another grape while Paisley signed, then handed the copy back to Paisley. "So, anything you'd like to do while you're here, Emperor, or do you just wish to return to the Empire and set things in motion?"

OOC: I love how you address those things ICly. I know you wouldn't pull a fast one like that, I am just paranoid. Also, what parts of this do you want to RP, because I want to get things going fairly quickly for I anticipate an interesting situation to develop here.


IC: "No," Paisley responded with a smile, "I am set to abdicate in two months and I want to get the affairs of State in order before my departure." He paused for a moment, and then exclaimed, "I am unsure if this is possible, but I would like to meet with the Imperial President to dicuss perhaps a much larger issue. If this is not possible I will merely call him later from the Palace in Prussia."

OOC: I'd like to RP enough of the changing hands to be able to say it was done, but we don't have to do every little village and crossroads, for sure. I'd like you to start the thread, if you don't mind, since I'd not know the appropriate ships and all you'd be sending with the force. Let's do Hestonia first, since I've currently got a battle going on Atlantic Island with the militia.

Currey nodded. "The President's fairly busy, which is why he wasn't able to be here, but if you would like to meet with him, I'll see what can be arranged." This face became even blanker than Cortana's had been moments before, his eyes glazing over.

After a moment, he blinked, and looked back at the Emperor. "He can see you as soon as we can get to Imperial House. He doesn't have time to come here, unfortunately, since I'd assume you'd rather meet him in person." He snagged another grape. "If you're ready, follow me."

When indeed they were ready, Currey led them back into the tower complex, and they descended to the floor which they had arrived on the day before. Again, the black air car was waiting for them. Once everyone was settled inside, it slipped into the early morning traffic pattern, and then, using its government clearances, slipped out of the traffic lanes and sped through the massive towers, which despite the two kilometer high traveling altitude, still towered overhead.

Clearly, Griffin was a very modern city, utilizing every element of technology at the Federation's disposable. After about twenty minutes, the landscape became flat, and the air dropped through the sky quickly, until the green blanket upon the land became visible to be massive, old trees.

A clearing could soon be seen ahead, and then a few buildings. Nothing like the city proper, the Imperial Compound contained no buildings more than two stories high, and appeared to be a sprawling estate more than the seat of Government of one of the most powerful nations in the world.

The air car settled to the ground with a soft crunch of gravel under it, and Currey led the way through the main doors, into the Emperor Roger II Ballroom. Down corridors and around corners they walked in the building, over thick carpet and wall adorned walls, tastefully decorated with numerous paintings.

Eventually, in the heart of the North Wing, they entered a smallish office where a man in all black stood facing away from them, before turning with a smile, his brown eyes revealing the heavy burden that was his, his face tired despite the early morning time and despite his only thirty-one years of age. This man then, was the Imperial President. The holodisplay he had been viewing shut off, closing down on a scene of intense fighting, though there had been no sound. "Good morning, Emperor Paisley. I trust you've found your time here enjoyable and productive so far?" He offers his hand, then following, he waves, indicating a comfortable looking chair. "Please be seated."

For the Guardsmen, they might, if looking carefully, notice the man dressed in similar black to the President standing the shadows of the room, his demeanor screaming bodyguard as well.

After everyone is settled, the President sharply tilts his head at Currey, who departs, then he turns back to the Emperor. "What can I do for you, Emperor?"

OOC: Good post SP. I very much liked it. I shall post in short order, perhaps tommorrow night, we shall see if that is able to be done.

God Bless,

Reichskamphen Player

"Good sir." The Emperor began. "I am here to broker better relations between our respective nations. By this I mean between the Federation and Greater Prussia. Your surrogates and I had a fairly productive session as soon as they figured out the main point that I have to make. I am not Melkor. Furthermore, I would like nothing more than to see that rat burned alive, or boiled in oil perhaps. He is a cancerous tumour...nothing more...nothing less. As members of Metus we are allied with him...and will not betray him as that is not our way. But what we shall do is simply make the point to him that we aren't bound by his restrictions and though we are allied with him...we swear no fealty as such to him. We seek to point out that the Charter as he calls it...is just another piece of paper. Our sovreignty...no matter how real or imagined...is more important to us than anything he can offer." The aging Emperor paused to catch his breath.

"I am here to propose the opening of economic relations between FSP and the Empire. As well as to open my borders to any" he made sure he put a strong emphasis on any, hoping that the President would catch the point "Federation civilians or military personell...of course not exceeding a couple thousand men."

D'ron felt his eyes narrow in suspicion. He was not at all inclined to trust Paisley, despite the quick resolution of the Allanean situation, though he was perfectly happy to get his people out of that waste of a country. He pursed his lips, trying to look thoughtful. “I’m not entirely sure what you have in mind. I’m not adverse to opening up economic relations, really, in fact, I’ve been looking for a new market for our businesses to expand into.” He frowned thoughtfully, his expression blanking much as Currey’s and Cortana’s had. A moment later, Commerce Minister Williams appeared out of thin air and sat in one of the other chairs. Or at least, his hologram did. D’ron spoke again. “I’ve invited Arthur to join us as this is really his area of expertise.”

Williams spoke softly. “Well, we could easily expand into Greater Prussia, the markets would take a small, temporary hit, I would imagine, but nothing like when we were fixing Allanea, and would bounce back quickly.” He looked pensive. “What kind of trade did you have in mind?”

D’ron meanwhile looked thoughtful, pondering what exactly Paisley meant by offering to allow troops into Greater Prussia. A few thousand was not exactly an embassy security force, after all. And as sure as daisies do not bloom without water, it would piss Lord Melkor off. D’ron certainly did not want a war on his hands at the moment.

"I am thinking of expanding factories, having FSP Corporations open shop establish Hqs in Reichskamphen or GP...things of that nature. I would also be interested in signing a free trade agreement. In it I would like there to be a clause about working towards the peaceful resolution of our differances despite external pressures." It was obvious Paisley was referring to Lord Melkor.

"I am a preacher first and foremost. I love God. Melkor doesn't...he hates him. He reviles ALL good. He is as much my enemy in ideology as Satan himself! But unfortunately, I am bound by this senseless treaty. The only way I have to get out of it is to claim that the Leipzig throne was illegitimate due to the forceful deposing of King Marcus for its creation, and as such all treaties made by it are void, but then I would undermine the entire Empire including myself as I am technically the heir to his crown. Every bone in my body is crying out in the night against this 'dark lord' and his evil, and his apostacy! I am seeking to find a way to get out of it peacefully. If he gets mad enough at the free trade agreement, and my agreeing with you to give you a base on an island off of GP in lend lease agreement, he will more than likely forcefully expell me. Melkor has not the capability at this time to pursue two enemies at once. He is already fighting one, and his spacefleets are there. Our ground army can whip his with everything tied behind their backs...so he will not come after us. Especially with us making strong overtures to you and others. He would be rather unwise as the Temporary King of Allanea, my Cousin by adoption I suppose, Arch Duke Napoleon is a military commander rivaling Will the Great. He could easily trounce the Orcan hordes."

"But perhaps I am getting to far ahead of myself. The point is...we want out...but without blood. And we are doing what we can. I am abdicating in two weeks as I set a deadline to do so...due to my age. I want to hold up to my people the proof that I did one last thing for their futures. That I extricated them from this mess..."

D’ron frowned. “It’s not the Orcs I’d be worried about. It’s the Sky Furnaces and the gravships, with their human crews. They’re smart, well trained, and very deadly.” His mouth turned upward. “It is true, that if you garnered enough support actually willing to fight with you, it is unlikely Melkor would move against you, but that support will be hard to come by. Lord Melkor, frankly, scares the shit out of a lot of people.” He fell silent for a moment.

“Well,” broke in Williams, “I think that we could easily begin expanding our markets into Greater Prussia, but given our trade policy, and laws, you would have to be out of Metus first. As for a free trade agreement, that would be up to the Imperial President…”

“Yes,” D’ron picked up the line of thought, “that would require me to give explicit permission. And while I have no problem with free trade in principle, it is something we prefer not to give away. Like trust, free trade must be earned. Earning it, on the other hand, is relatively simple. You simply prove yourself to be a loyal friend, who shares our goals, and a good trading partner.” He looked down at his lap, his eyes squeezing towards shut, before looking back at Paisley. “Now, you mentioned a lend-lease agreement. Since we’d be getting the island, what would we be lending you in exchange? Additionally, I’d be willing to sign some sort of treaty of friendship, including the lend lease agreement, and the authorization of trade, pending your withdrawal from Metus. It would also include logistical support should Melkor move against you, but I’m afraid I couldn’t justify putting the Federation into another conflict so soon, especially as we’re fighting a Lost Americans Invasion Force currently in the Commonwealth of Peitha as it is.”

"If you want to defeat Metus...you are abandoning your best opportunity. Half of the Alliance wants to leave...and you refuse them help in leaving. Lord Melkor scares people...but he doesn't scare me. And I know he shouldn't frighten a powerful nation such as yourself. And you have to realize...we have the intelligence to defeat his greater weapons systems. You have everything you want in the palm of your hands...we are trying to ask your help in withdrawing from metus...but you won't promise support until we do...and then not enough support to help. In my opinion you are shooting yourself in the foot. If you want to win...support me...if you will not support me...I will leave." Paisley folded his arms and looked on.

"If you want to defeat Metus...you are abandoning your best opportunity. Half of the Alliance wants to leave...and you refuse them help in leaving. Lord Melkor scares people...but he doesn't scare me. And I know he shouldn't frighten a powerful nation such as yourself. And you have to realize...we have the intelligence to defeat his greater weapons systems. You have everything you want in the palm of your hands...we are trying to ask your help in withdrawing from metus...but you won't promise support until we do...and then not enough support to help. In my opinion you are shooting yourself in the foot. If you want to win...support me...if you will not support me...I will leave." Paisley folded his arms and looked on.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Allanea*

King Napoleon read the memo that came accross his desk. *Top Secret: Emperor in talks with FSP*

"Paisley, that old doddering fool..." he sighed deeply. "Metus may not outlive him at this rate. We'll figure out a way to keep Metus afloat..."

D'ron was silent for quite some time. Paisley was right, of course. But very wrong as well. He did not want to defeat Metus. He wanted the threat eliminated. There were multiple ways of accomplishing that, not all of which involved military force.

Violence, violence was always a last resort. Life was too valuable. But frankly, he did not care one bit if Metus was utterly destroyed or not. He wanted peace, and only peace. And he was reasonably certain that Metus could be contained. Finally, he shook his head slightly, clearing it, not in refusal of Paisley's offer.

"Very well. First, there are some things you must understand. Allanea has eaten a third of the Federation's military for the last year. Every single one of those soldiers has a minimum of six months of leave and non-combat time accumulated. I cannot deploy them anywhere but to their home bases in the Federation. Another third of the ground force is fighting at approximately three to one odds in the Commonwealth of Peitha at the moment. That leaves only a third of our military as reserve at the moment. I cannot justify cutting into that. What if I need them? What if the forces to our north break through Federal lines? How do you propose I explain to a group of my citizens, who are my primary responsibility, that their city was sacked, their loved ones murdered, because I had deployed our military overseas?" He raised his eyebrows in question.

"I'll tell you what. You get more backing for this, somewhere, other than me, and the Federation Space Navy will do all it can. I'm not sticking any Federation personnel on a limb that I know will be cut off behind them." He smiles grimly. "Besides, you say you can confront his ground forces evenly. What would you need mine for?"

Arthur cleared his throat, and the Imperial President nodded slightly. "I renew my earlier question as well. What would you want us to lend you to lease this island of yours?"

Paisley took a breath, and prepared himself for a long speech. (OOC:It's late and I didn't feel like doing it in a more narrative fashion.)
"Lend? It isn't a matter of lending. We get your co-operation either furtively or openly in opposing Metus. You back us up basically. I understand your concernes about personel. It is mainly the Space Navy that I am concerned about. That is what would be rather helpful. However...you mentioned where your men were facing three to one odds. I would like to know more about this situation and if there is any way we can help out a friend in a time of trouble.

We also would like you to perhaps send agents into the Empire. You can establish a network...we will look the other way. It is happening with other nations, we will not say who at this time, but it is rather common. We would also be interested in setting up some funds. Funnel money into bank accounts that we more than likely will base in FSP that will go towards the destruction of Metus. These funds will come from a variety of locations...but will end up here one way or another.

Also, we would be quite excited to see FSP corporations perhaps expanding their markets into Greater Prussia. Perhaps even establishing a regional Headquarters in the Capitol. I have very many plans and ideas. And though I am abdicating...my work will go on...it doesn't matter if the next Emperor loves Metus like no other...my work will go on unhindered."

Taggedy

D'ron was quiet for a moment, then shrugged slightly. "The combat to the north doesn't really concern me. I know the odds, and I know my people can handle it. Our tech is better, our tactics, and our training. It's more just time that we need, and we can buy that ourselves. I don't think you could redeploy anything here in time to do much. Besides you're going to have your hands full with Allanea." He glanced at Arthur.

"Well, Emperor, I can't speak for the corporations of the Federation, obviously, since a free market means just that. If you want them to come to Greater Prussia, you'll have to approach them, not us. The most we can do is make it legal for them to do so, and if you withdraw from Metus, it would immediately become so." Williams sat back in the chair.

D'ron spoke again. "As for the Space Navy, it's yours, contingent on a Metus Attack on Greater Prussia for withdrawing from the Alliance, and you acquiring more allies than just the Federation."

No one mentioned the tacit admittance of Greater Prussia being willing to look the other way over intelligence gathering. That was not something normally discussed. But the approval was noted, and would be considered, and quite probably acted upon. But that was not for these men to say. Somethings had to be spoked with actions, not words.