NationStates Jolt Archive

Cyro River Delta, Dyelli Beybi

- ‘Oh God’ - said Jonathan Kwark, the new Allanean Ambassador to Dyelli Beybi - ‘HOW hot it is here, on average?’

- ‘I just told you, Sir’ - replied the pilot, calmly steering the seaplane into a descent. ‘It gets up to forty Celsius. Horrible, isn’t it?’

Kwark moaned - ‘Holy mother of God, how did I end up signing up for this terrible place? How did this happen to me, Josh?’

- ‘ I suspect it’s something about the enthusiasm of youth, Sir’. - replied Josh. He was pilot, driver and manservant to Kwark - simply because in its current state, the Allanean government could not fund three people to serve the Ambassador.

"Well, Josh, at least the city is beautiful." - - commented Kwark, trying to lift up his own spirit before the perspective of staying here for years and years.

"Yes, sir - let’s just not screw up here like most out diplomats" - the pilot replied with a chuckle - the low quality of Allanean diplomacy was famous throughout the world - the arrogant, uncompromising nature of the Allaneans made them very bad diplomats.

And pilots.

"Hold on to something, Mr. Kwark!! We’re laaanding!"

The seaplane hit the water, hard, and spun along the surface of the river, breaking tail spar and very nearly throwing Kwarl out through the front window before it ground to a halt on the water, in front of the amazed Beybians ashore.

Then there door opened, giving the Beybians their first taste of Allanean culture.

http://catsonmars.com/otaku/cosplay/feb04-03.jpg
Jonathan Kwark, Allanean Ambassador to Dyelli Beybi, Former President and Honorary Member of the Port-Allanea University Anime Club

(OOC: Yup it's closed thread but this is an intelligence tag for the FKC we are watching...)

Octogon Level B5
"Looks like someone had an accident in Cyro with a seaplane..."
The young man watching a screen noted quietly
"File it...." Someone else stated dryly.

Cyro (pronounced S-eye-row) was a beautiful city, if grand Gothic architecture was to one's taste. The central city, the older medieval part was mostly built in that style, with newer buildings here and there where one of the older ones had collapsed or been blown to shreds in one of the numerous civil wars. It had something of a Venetian feel to it, spanning the Djel River Delta and being built across inumerable small islands, all of which were linked by a series of bridges. The far banks of the river were where things had gone highrise, the ground was too soft to build anything too tall on the islands.

Further out the waterways became deep enough to carry large freighters (helped along a bit by dredging), as the islands became sparser and generally uninhabited. The highrise buildings on the banks gave way to docks, and at the far end Naval facilities. At the very mouth the river was broken by four major islands, each one of which held an impressive coastal battery. Dyelli Beybi was paranoid of invasion.

It was the usual completely cloudless day. It very rarely rained in Dyelli Beybi. In Cyro there was occasional drizzle. It was the swamp that made the place so humid, and added to the impression of extreme heat.

The Dyellians were generally, at least on first impression a short, slender
Caucasian race of people who just about all had dark hair and equally dark eyes. A couple of soldiers watched the proceedings curiously. The uniforms were dress, field grey with black jack boots and Germanic style helmets. People who didn't know anything about the Government frequently assumed Dyelli Beybi was fascist. They were supposed to be guarding the precinct, but were really more interested in which foreigners were visiting Dyelli Beybi this time, and anyway, it wasn't like there weren't enough other soldiers who were paying attention.

Cyro International was unusual as Airports went, as it had facilities for Seaplanes and terminals to process their passengers. One of the smaller domestic terminals had been taken over for this task. The two soldiers were miles out of earshot, and as such felt no compunctions at letting their opinions be known, "Well you can strike me down right now if I've ever seen a more garishly dressed diplomat." the accent had a distinct lilt to it and was frequently mistaken for Irish.

"Whats the big lolipop for?"

"I don't know." the other considered this for a moment, "Maybe he's diabetic and needs lots of sugar."

The second soldier looked suspicious, "I didn't think diabetes worked that way."

"Sure it does." the other assured him, "That's what my uncle Deg told me, and uncle Deg is never wrong..."

Meanwhile, at the dock itself, Kwark was just encountering his first taste of Dyelli Beybi. Someone in a dusty coloured suit had hurried out to meet him. He was a fairly typical looking Dyellian with a well trimmed moustache. For a moment his eyes registered surprise, but then all traces of that particular expression were wiped over with a perfectly practiced smile, "Welcome to Dyelli Beybi."

He gave a bow, "It is indeed our enormous honour to meet with delegates of your esteemed Nation."

"Christopher Medway" he introduced himself, "Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade. If you'd like to come this way, we can take you somewhere with air conditioning. Most foreign delegates find Cyro disagreeably hot."

Dyelli Beybi had done something unusual. The Cheka (Intelligence Service) wasn't present, and they usually had their nose in everything.

Jonathan Kwark smiled happily as he surveyed the city. It was somewhat reminiscent of his favorite films. At least the view was going to be enjoyable, he thought. Wow… just like in Vampire Hunter D, he pondered. It was pretty hot, despite the cut-out on the front of his suit. He turned towards the Beybian and spoke, "Hello Mr. Medway. I am Jonathan Kwark, Ambassador of the Confederate States of Allanea. I hope we have a pleasant working experience here. And yes, it is slightly hot - the part of the Confederacy I am from, Delania, that is, is rather cold even compared to the rest of Allanea. So a - what is it, forty-degree average? - is way too much to a spoiled city boy like myself. So yes, show me where the air conditioning - and, if you would be so kind, cold Coke - is."

He followed his host, handing his pilot and manservant the oversized lollipop. "Josh, be a sweetie and take care of my luggage, will you?" The pilot grumbled as he grabbed the otaku Ambassador’s suitcases. Carrying even moderately heavy objects in this weather would be slow torture - and these suitcases were not moderately heavy. He groaned on the verge of audibility, pondering I wonder if I will get any of this cold Coke he’s talking about - it’s insanely hot here. Dammit. I wonder how long we’ll be stuck here for. Probably until he screws up Prolly be back in a month or two, given the way we do diplomacy - but I’ll probably croak from this heat by that time.

They proceeded to follow the Beybian through the city, the Ambassador looking boyishly careless. But in fact, observed the architecture of the city and it’s layout, it’s industrial might and the uniforms of the soldiers he sometimes could see. While he was certainly no fascist, the style of the uniforms appealed to him, reminiscent of the gear of some of the Imperial Guard troops he saw during the last wars, when the Greater Prussian Empire once again intervened to save Allanea. He knew from his knowledge of history that a nation standing alone has no hope in this hostile world. And he knew - from the looks of the soldiers, the emplacements - Dyelli Beybi was in danger. And he knew that a nation that provided help to Beybi right now would probably be doing the right thing - and it would be doing the right thing with a healthy profit. Something, Kwark thought, the new Allanean diplomacy was all about. Of course it will suck at much as the Old Diplomacy.


And the heat is terrible. - thought the young Ambassador again a minute later - What the bloody hell did they think building a nation here? Fighting an offensive war here, though, will be a cast-iron bitch, what with the foreign soldiers being even less suited to the climate than the locals - nobody can be entirely suited to this, of course. Way I know the Midlonians, they’ll get their humongous cannon stuck here and that will be the end of it. Of course, it won’t hurt to keep a different face to the Beybiians. Won’t do to have them overconfident and assured they don’t need our help. Some fancy contracts for our industry would be excellent. And hell, our rifles and instructors would do them jolly good down here.

(OOC: Well a giant plastic sword could be mistaken for a lolipop if you hadn't seen one before and you were a bit slow)

The Dyelli Beybians may have been more used to the heat, but even they didn't like it. As soon as they entered the largely deserted terminal, the air conditioning hit like a vast cool wave, "Coca Cola aye?" Medway pondered this, "Not really the drink of choice in Dyelli Beybi, sure we couldn't interest you with a 'Helmut Cola'?"

Helmut Cola was outlawed in several countries, it was mildly halucinogenic and was about twice as alcoholic as the average whiskey. It still tasted like Cola though... more or less.

Someone among the Dyellians, and Medway had picked up a few assorted hangers on, did manage to produce a Coke, feeling it probably wasn't a good idea if they gave the local brew to foreign dignitaries.

The other side of the terminal held a black limousine, which came free with four police motorbikes, "I was thinking, it was a long flight and all that, you'll probably want to head to your hotel room and check in, even if you're not jetlagged."

Medway opened the door for the Ambassador, before seating himself opposite him, and waiting for the bag carrying fellow to get everything stowed in the boot and join them. Once he had, the limousine slid slowly out onto the main road, two motorcycles taking the front and another two the rear. The cyclists wore dark green uniforms. At the first set of trafic lights the lead two dropped back to next to the limousine. The logo on the left sleeve proudly proclaimed that the riders were the 'Cyro Armed Offenders Squad', which was the Dyellian equivalent of SWAT, "We don't expect anything, but you can't be too careful." Medway explained, indicating the officers, "Turbulent times."

As they drew closer into the interior of the city, the soldiers were rapidly replaced by pale blue uniformed police officers, most of whom seemed to be doing more or less nothing apart from loitering around hoping someone did something criminal to liven their day up, "I've got you booked in to meet the Minister tomorrow. Dzerzhinsky absolutely insisted one of his Commisaars get to speak to you tonight, sorry if it's an inconvenience."

Apparently the Cheka weren't keeping their noses out of this.

After a fairly long drive, made longer by traffic congestion crossing the bridges, the car pulled into a single lane that detached from the main road, leading to the front of a Hotel that displayed a large ornate sign naming itself 'The Ritz: Cyro'. There was a porter who wandered over, opening the door. He wore a long mauve coat which looked stifling, but turned out to be very lightweight linen, "Don't tip in Dyelli Beybi." Medway advised, "They get paid enough, some people even get insulted if you try."

The inside was cool and had a large fountain bubbling merrily in the foyer, the receptionist explained that Kwark was in Room 1201 which Commanded a majestic North facing view of the Djel at sunset, and made no comment on his choice of dress, although it was a little out of place among the suited businessmen and beaurocrats who frequented the Hotel. Dyellians were generally a diplomatic race, and were fairly easy to get along with, which made it all the more unusual that as a Nation they had made so many enemies, "Well if there's anything you need?" Medway asked, his eyes darted about to try to spot the Commisaar, but gave up.

(OOC: Well I don’t know what it is - I thought it was a lollipop, myself. Nor do I care. P.S. It’s nearly impossible to consume a drink ‘twice as alcoholic as an average whiskey’ - that would mean it’s 80% alcohol. Now, ‘twice as intoxicating’…)

‘Helmut Cola, ah?’ - asked the Allanean - ‘I heard of that drink. It’s rarely imported into Allanea for some reason - but a friend of mine has a swill of it somewhere, and I heard it’s totally the thing. Can I have a swig? Oh, and if you could arrange for a portion for my pilot, it would be utterly the thing.. You understand, carrying all my luggage in all this heat, he’s pretty exhausted by now…'

In the Confederate States, Helmut Cola was legal. Any substance was legal for sale - as long as you truthfully notified your clients of the content - selling pure heroin, marked as such, was not a crime, yet selling 14% alcohol and marking it as 15% was punishable as fraud. Thus, Helmut Cola would be perfectly legal - if not well-known, as Allaneans had so far little if any direct contact with Beybian civilisation. However, given the propensity of Allaneans to celebrate - and celebrate loudly and drunkenly - this would be just the drink for them.

As he sipped on his drink and the vehicle travelled forward, he observed the cyclists approvingly. ‘Why, nice, nice! Armed security is a good thing indeed, and the more of it, the merrier really. Back home we have it at every major business and bank. But really, their weapons are not really the top of the cut - you should consider something like Allanean Arms… but well, I don’t work for them.. I work for the Confederate States Congress- though of course at a later date we could link you up with Allanean suppliers if you’d like’. Thus ended the semi-subtle hint and he proceeded to observe the road further.

‘Commisaars, heh? Well I guess I won’t mind meeting them - but how formal is it? I intend to get some more of this Helmut Cola stuff and, err, celebrate my arrival to this glorious country of yours - of course, if the meeting with the Commisaar will be formal, I will have to postpone it until after the meeting. If not, we can celebrate together with the honorable Commissaar - so I’d like to order up a few bottles of Helmut at the hotel, if nobody minds - surely that will be an option, yes?’

As the Allanean made his way towards his room, he turned towards the porter - ‘Say… since I’m celebrating tonight - is it possible to rent films through the receptionist? If yes, there would be some DVD’s I would like to rent, if nobody minds - in a discreet fashion. Japanese animation. Japanese animation of the discreet kind, namely.’ He did not blush in any way as he made that request - Allaneans were known for their wild parties and for the strangeness of their habits. Kwark was every bit an Allanean.

He entered the room with his pilot - servant -friend and began to prepare for the night - making stocks of drink and icecubes and enjoying the fine view, mainly. They hoped the Commissaar would arrive early -leaving them enough time for their ‘party’ - or, at least, that he would be nice enough to party with them. Or, that ‘he’ would be a ‘she’. That would be real nice. But they didn’t very much bet on it - that’s why Jonathan Kwark was thoughful enough - or sick enough, make of it what one will - to inquire about the film renting option.

(OOC: It is possible and I have done it, some of the stronger absinthe's are up at that end. Basically Helmut Cola is the 99% alcohol stuff you use to sterilise benches mixed with Cola concentrate.)

"Sure thing, get you a crate sent up, don't drink it all at once, it isn't safe." Medway advised regarding the Dyellian national drink, "You'll probably find the Commisaar quite informal, but I don't really know, never had the pleasure of being interviewed by one of them."

The Djel wasn't the prettiest river in the world. It was a bit muddy, but as evening approached (the sun setting at six), the whole place was bathed in a deep red glow, giving the city an almost surreal beauty. The setting sun also saw swarms of biting insects burst out of the swamp, hunting for anyone foolish enough to be outside and not wearing insect repellant. The windows in the hotel were all fitted with mosquito nets, if Kwark were to go to the hotel reception he would pick up the faint scent of Pyrethrum.

The video selection was fairly standard with a few strange Dyellian films most of which looked like the kind that would sit happily at the Cannes Film Festival, but not at the local Movie Theatre. There was also a discreet range of imported pornography at the bottom. Certainly there was none of that sort of stuff being made in the very Catholic state of Dyelli Beybi. It was about that time that the Comisaar arrived, rapping smartly on the door.

What Kwark didn't know, was that the Cheka Hierachy, had done quite extensive research, and found that dignitaries who knew someone from the Cheka was coming to talk to them, responded best to an Intelligence officer who was young, attractive and of the opposite sex. It was really quite a cynical country...

"Commisaar Davies." the voice introduced herself from the other side of the door, "Here to talk to an Ambassador Kwark from Allanea, if he happens to have a moment?"

The door would open to find a slender women in her mid twenties, with raven black hair tied back in a pony tail, and similarly dark eyes. She had the uncertain look of someone who suspected there was some hidden catch in her latest assignment. It all seems so simple this time. It isn't a warzone and I'm not likely to get killed or maimed. There must be a catch somewhere...

She was wearing a military style field grey uniform, with a mid calf length skirt of the same colour and a peaked cap. In fact she looked indistinguishable from the military, were it not for light blue webbing on the uniform and police rank insignia. She had fine boned, almost elven features. Of course if you mentioned anything like that to a Dyellian you usually ended up with something violent happening to you. The Dyellians had had a long running 'disagreement' with Klatch's local elven population.

OOC: Neat, then.

"Oh very well, very well" - replied the Allanean - "We like ‘em just like that. Bring ‘em up - we’ll love it. Nothing like quality dual-action booze - served cold, not shaken, not stirred, no bullshit. Well, ice cubes would be nice, but I understand I am dreaming. You probably can’t find an ice cube within fifty miles of here, can you?" - he smirked, pointing at the burning-hot streets outside. "Of course, if you could arrange for ice, that would be so totally the thing. I be telling you, sir, ice is like totally the thing." He picked up a range of anime pornography - ‘Bible Black’, ‘Teacher’s Friend I’ and a few other classics of the drawn erotica. This is going to be a great night, he thought. Now if we had some babes, it would totall kick ass. Though something tells me prostitution is illegal here. Oh well. Not everybody can be fully civilised. Of course, he didn’t say that out loud.

He smiled at his host. "Thank you, Sir. I think there’s nothing we can do for you now - can we do anything for our kind friend here, Josh?"- he asked the pilot. "Well, I guess we will get some rest now - maybe even down a few glasses while waiting for the Comisaar. Nothing like Coke on the rocks, right, Josh?" He kicked the hotel room’s door open with a flamboyant motion, then grasped the blue ovesized lollipop / sword and tossed it into a corner, as if part of a strange ballet without music. "And, good night Sir. See you tomorrow, I suppose?"

As the new Allanean Ambassador to Dyelli Beybi closed the door - politely, but firmly ushering the Beybian out of his quarters - the last thing that man would see is the ambassador’s servant begin to impatiently pour out the precious hallucinogen.

* * *

Several hours later

By the time Comissaar Davies knocked on their door, the two Allaneans have already downed several glasses - though the strange drink seemed to have little effect so far on the representatives of the hardest-partying nation in all of Haven. They have broken out some of their own ‘party drugs’, but have not yet begun to use them - although an inspection would find that the substances were absolutely pure - as befit an ambassador’s personal kit.

Still, the Helmut Cola still did have at least some effect on the young men. Or perhaps this kind of effect didn’t really require much Helmut Cola. The point is, when Kwark opened the door and saw Davies, he had only one though. Oh I see this is going to be an even more entertaining night than I thought. I begin really, but really, liking Dyelli Beybi.

Back in the 18th century, ice had been unknown in Dyelli Beybi, but with the development of refrigeration it had grown into an essential item in the population's dayly lives, and it was sent up to the room without any hassel.

Davies had developed something of a nervous streak after capture by marauding tribesmen on one overseas trip then being dumped into the middle of a war and told to report on 'how bad the situation is' on the next. In fact the Chief Constable had decided she was the luckiest agent on the force, this was not something she entirely agreed upon.

As it was Kwark's outlandish dress sense provoked immediate alarm, alarm which certainly never showed on her face, she was an Intelligence Officer after all. She smiled pleasantly, "You'd be the Ambassador I presume? Had a good flight?"

"Anyway, I know you must be tired and jet lagged, but well, my superiors in the Cheka were hoping we could touch base with you briefly, before you go and meet with Ministry Officials tomorrow. May I come in?"

"Oh surely, surely" - Kwark spoke. He was not at all tired - he was in fact being more alert than he usually was, due to the portion of Helmut Cola he has consumed, and the methamphetamine pill he took. "Please do come in. Please sit down. Want a drink?"

Before Davies could protest, he poured her a drink and dropped four icecubes into it. "Here you go. Of course we’ll be happy to ‘touch base’ with you. I think you should join our party, in fact." He pushed the glass suggestively in her direction. "Oh, and try this one" - he offered a pink pill of some kind. "Newest rage in the capital. Called ‘Party Special DPA’, but I don’t really know what the letters stand for. Kick ass, utterly." He broke the pill in half "Here’s your bit - and here’s mine."

As he waited for Davies to go for it, he looked at her with certain inquiry. "So, what did you want to ‘touch base’ with us about, anyway? Didn’t you get the FAXes that were sent to you about the goal of our arrival? The entire "Establishment of Embassy and Business Relations" part?"

She seated herself in one of the hotel room's chairs without fuss, crossing her legs and smoothing down her skirt as she did so. She was worried she might have walked right into the lion's mouth. Nevertheless she accepted both the drink and pill with a smile, "Thanks."

The pill was a bit suspicious, Dyelli Beybi, unlike Allanea had very strong drug laws, and knew full well she'd lose her job if she was caught taking anything of the sort, so waited until nobody was looking before hiding it in a pocket, "Oh yeah of course we got the faxes." she sounded dismissive of such impersonal forms of communication, "We usually find it's better to get our information straight from the delegate, that is you, rather than relying on what some third party has to say. Of course the Cheka didn't get invited to the negotiations, they think we'd spoil the mood."

"So." she looked at Kwark inquiringly, "What do you personally hope to achieve out of this whole business in Dyelli Beybi?"

She sipped at the drink slowly. Usually she was a fast drinker, but didn't want to be drunk just yet.

"Oh nothing special, really." - smiled the Allanean - "Free trade, contracts for our arms industry and maybe a small basy on the Dyelli Byelli coast - we would like to have some form of logistical support for the Confederate States Navy on its manoeuvres through Klatch, and having our own sovereign base in the Socialist Republics is just as well - and of course, it is in your interest to have a friendly nation like Allanea based in the USR. I am sure you can already see the benefits to us all."

He smiled. "Oh, and if I understand international law, this hotel room is temporarily Allanean territory. Feel free to party here." he wondered if he should tell her if he and his pilot have ‘messed’ a little bit with the content of the Helmut Cola - adding to it just such a pill as they had shared. DPA, dual-purpose aphrodisiac, of the kind that affects both male and females - a common trick taught to Allanean Foreign Office officials. Offer someone a pill - to have him refuse it, while distracting him from the actual glass. He decided against it. After all, he wasn’t poisoning her. He was drinking it with her, after all. He pointed her to the diplomatic necessaire -"Here, all you need. Pure methamphetamine, pharmaceutical-grade LSD, party drugs - here’s methylenedioxymethamphetamine, which you may know as ‘extasy’. Here are varying aphrodisiacs. Here is hash tea, and if you want some, Josh will boil it for you. It’s not Stossel, but it will do."

OOC: DB, telegram on the way.

"Oh yep." Davies agreed, "It probably would be an advantage to us to have you build a military base around here, but I'm not really certain how it benefits you, unless you're trying to upset the Walrus."

The President of Klatch was quite literally a Walrus. A sentient Vrakian Walrus, who seemed quite paranoid of what their immediate Southern neighbours were up to. Most Klatchian States didn't trust Dyelli Beybi.

She was sipping quite slowly at her drink, her desire to stay completely in control was clashing with her desire to down all of the State sponsored alcohol she could in the available time, which was until the Ambassador got bored of her and booted her out of Allanean territory.

"Quite right of course." she didn't actually know if it was Allanean territory, she knew though that the Allanean's had diplomatic immunity no matter what, "I'll give the drugs a miss though..."

Honesty was possibly the best policy, "... if I leave here with that in my system though I can kiss my job goodbye."

"Besides." she punctuated the statement with a cheeky grin, "I like to keep the body pure, with the possible exception of a little bit of alcohol from time to time. It keeps your skin in good condition."

And hers certainly seemed to be, with the inevitable light tan you picked up living under the clear Dyellian skies, Methamphetamine, christ on the cross, its a great big pile of 'P'. Hope he's not planning to smoke any of that now...

Interestingly enough, 'Pure methamphetamine' or 'P' was the most illegal drug in Dyelli Beybi, existing in a class of it's own. In a fairly laid back society, the agressive response induced in a lot of it's users had caused a fair degree of public alarm, prompting a massive Government crackdown. With a tool like the Cheka at their disposal, it had been a very efficient crackdown.

OOC: the one you’re thinking of is PCP, not meth.


"The Walrus, heh?" - chuckled the bizarre Allanean - "’round our parts, we don’t pay much respect to authority, established as it may be - if you know what I mean. Though we wouldn’t deliberately try ot upset the Walrus. We will simply be trying to establish a - leverage point, if you will. A little bit of Allanea to represent our interests in the Klatch - though those interests are not at all well-defined. Perhaps your nation will help define them.

He smiled at the Beybian’s other comment. "Bah! Most of the after-effects of drugs are actually due to the impurities your dealers add to them - thank prohibitionism. But yes, you’re right. Your skin is simply beautiul" - He stopped for a second, looking enchanted at Davis’ body- or whatever part of it was exposed. Yes. Indeed he was right. It was beautiful.

(OOC: No the one I am thinking of is methamphetamine. Trust me I'm a Pharmacist, I know my drugs inside out. You should see what happens when you give a mouse SC methamphetamine.)

She held a finger up in protest, "That sounds like addict talk. I'm a Police Officer, Cheka Subdivision Two, Military Liason, although technically this should really be a job for One."

She shook her head, she was feeling a bit... unusual, which was odd, she could normally take her alcohol a lot better. Carefully she set the glass on the side for the time being, "Call it something to do with working in Intelligence, but I really can't cope with the idea of not being in control of myself. I don't 'do' anything stronger than alcohol, and I try not to get drunk."

The thing about a mid calf length skirt was that it tended to ride up to just below the knee when you sat down, quite practical in hot weather, but a little provocative. She didn't mind Kwark eyeing her up, she always found it quite amusing the effects she could have, usually though she had to try a bit harder. In fact, she was begining to feel more and more like someone who'd inadvertetly blundered into a lion's den, Damn Felix, he could have put some boring male in here and he'd probably have gleaned more information. Then again, I could always pull an Alwood...

She was nervous, but wasn't showing it. She was trained not to, "Why don't you come over here?"

She beckoned Kwark to come and sit next to her, he really needs to work on his dress sense if he's going to last as an Ambassador here. You can't turn up to functions featuring all the Klatchian nobs looking like you've just left a comic book convention, even the Walri wear ties.

"Then you can tell me all about Allanea." she smiled invitingly.

"No, my dear Davies…" - replied the Ambassador - "I ain’t not addict. Would only be called one if I could no longer do my job. I do it well - compared to the rest of the Allanean Diplomatic Corps, and that sucks terribly. You will eventually discover that we are probably the worst diplomats on planet Earth. Off-world, the Skeelzanians have us beat of course. They always do when it comes to really, but really, bad diplomacy. That’s what they are for."

Kwark smiled inadvertedly as he moved next to Davies. "I believe we sohlud have one more drink then - for friendship? For Allanea? For Dyelli?"

Davies wasn't just a pretty face. Inside she also had a brain to match, and it was very quickly running through possibilities for her distinctly... odd urges. Then suddenly it dawned on her. It was almost inconcievable she'd been so stupid... She picked up the glass she'd set to one side, downing the remainder in one gulp (which just about had her choking), "You think I need another?" she gave the ambassador a quizical smile.

"Tell me who you are." she leaned her head on her hand, proping her elbow on the back of the furniture, "You see at the moment you're a total stranger, and I don't know if I can trust you."

She knew she could trust him... about as far as it was safe for him to trust her, which was to say not very far.

"You always need another glass, Ms. Davies..." replied the Allanean. "Nothing like spending the night with good music, good wine - which I personally count to be just another recreational drug - and good people. Which is what I am,"- he replied, pouring Davies a glass and sipping on his own. "I am an otaku - an anime fan. Honorary membership in my uni’s club, and all that jazz. Also have a neat music collection - and can throw quite a party if you’d wish me to. Oh, and of course - of course, my dear - I dabble in diplomacy sometimes. As all my people, I suck at it like nobody sucked at it before. On the bad side, I got kicked out of several courses in Uni for rowdy behavior - drinking too much even for back home, you may say - and having too much sex and partying even for an Allanean college is quite a feat, if I may say so myself."

"You're a student?" she sounded incredulous, in fact her thoughts were more along the lines of, Felix is going to hate him...

Her tone was smooth, as she edged closer to Kwark, close enough to be almost touching him, "So you're a crazy student, and a fan of oriental cartoons? Do you have any idea what you've just walked into?"

"I sure hope you're a good negotiator, or you'll be eaten alive tomorrow. Do you want to know a little bit about the Cheka?" she figured he wasn't the slightest bit interested, but he was going to find out anyway.

She leaned in close, whispering in his ear, "We make annoying people who threaten the State, cease to exist."

She was finding the peculiar person quite attractive, although she guessed she wouldn't in the morning, she certainly hadn't lost all control though. She was a highly trained agent of the State, it would take a bit to completely knock her off her feet, and she wasn't about to drink that next glass, at least not yet. Davies was begining to suspect she was being doped up with something, probably a hormone agonist of some sort. It was cheating, down and out, she was going to make Kwark do some work, if he wanted to get his hands on her.

"Graduate, my dear. Walked out of Uni two months ago. Diplomatic Corps a bit short on staff these days - they take them straight out of the cribs these days. Doing like the Army did in the old days, but except now, the CSDC - that's the Confederate States Diplomatic Corps, Ms. Davis - right now, the CSDC is getting more money then the army. They even have special aircraft series on developement. Like that seaplane I arrived in. Personnaly, I think that's pretty neat, except of course it won't make it suck any less than it normally sucks.

"Let's hope I work better than most diplomats in Allanea. And yes, I've heard about the Cheka. Did a little bit of my homework before coming here. Not exactly the way we work, but oh well - to each his own, I suppose. We do it otherwise. Unless they're violent... we hit them with bad PR. Very bad PR." He smiled, remembering the lectures about the CSDC Public Relations Division. Not violent perhaps, but ruthless, very, very ruthless.

He enjoyed Davis' voice in his ear... "And hello, darling. I don't think you need to worry about listeners - except those of your own... however... perhaps we may need a bit more privacy..." and he moved cautiously towards her.

"PR?" she bit her lower lip as if trying suppressing a laugh, "The kind of enemies of the State we have in Dyelli Beybi wouldn't think twice about roasting alive myself or any other agent of the State they just happened to get their hands on. They executed all the police and Cheka in the city when the Tzarists took Fiord Harbour."

She seemed to find this topic of conversation somewhat dull though, and dropped it, "Graduate eh? Well I never did High School, so you undoubtedly know more about the world than me."

She smiled at her own lack of education. She watched Kwark for a moment, one hand toying with her hair as she listened to his somewhat fumbling line about privacy, "My listeners." she laughed, "Ambassador, but I am the listener."

Her smile was both cunning and suggestive, "Just get rid of Robin over there and this room will be as private as any you're about to find, besides I find I quite like this couch. Just one thing Ambassador... slip me a mickey finn again and you'll be going for a swim with the crocodiles."

She was an odd girl, the kind you found with alarming regularity in Dyelli Beybi. A young erring Catholic, full of life... and as dangerous as a hand grenade without a pin. It was probably something to do with the Revolution.

(OOC: Fell free to zip forward here.)

‘Very well, darling.’ - the ambassador giggled - ‘Trust me on this, thought… later… you will want my pilot back in the room. He’s my third-cousin, and he’s bisexual. Quite a piece of work, if I may say so myself. But private, you say? Okay…’We can adjust later, he thought.

In the morning

‘Dammit.’ The Ambassador woke up. His head hurt. Some other parts of his body hurt, too. Mainly his forearms. He wondered if he had tried the ‘mill vanes’ again. It was not a really comfortable way to do things… but he was wont to try it with girls sometimes. Especially with some party drugs in his system.

Slowly, slowly, the events of the past night began to came back. Himself, Ambassador Kwark, snorting a line of coke from what appeared to be someone’s buttock. The pilot’s, probably. The girl, screaming in pleasure as he performed yet another arcane trick from his ‘hentai repertoire’. The pilot’s face, contorted with the effects of a mixed-drug cocktail and sexual exctasy.

So what actually happened?

Josh was sprawled on the carpet near the TV, entirely naked, clutching at some device. The Ambassador did not know what it was. Nor did he want to. The TV was playing his ‘Teacher’s Pet’ film in endless loop. The girl - What the bloody hell is her name? - was lying next to him. She was beautiful, but…

So we got drunk, possibly high- I certainly was high - and I and Josh screwed her - and each.. Who is she… works for the Cheka, I think.. yeah, that’s her uniform pants there… how rhe hell did they get to the ceiling fan?

The device rotated slowly, flailing the gray uniform pants about the room, providing no answers.

Suddenly, Kwark shuddered.

Wait. I am in a room with a CheKa officer whom I and my aide just screwed the living daylights out of. If she wakes up and I [b]stil[l/b] can’t remember her name… sh*t.


OOC: I am making the assumption that as she drinks more, the effect of more alcohol and the dose of DPA will make for one freaking hell of a party.

Davies awoke, but didn't open her eyes. She'd been very stupid last night. She'd thought she had more self control than she had, and had ended up sleeping with some foreign drug addict, and he'd wanted to bring one of his relatives in as well. Her mind clicked away for a few moments more, working out exactly what she was going to do with the information.

The Ambassador was so chauvenistically naive, most people trod more warily around Commisaars. She rolled over, feigning sleepiness, "Good morning." she smiled, counted to ten in her head, then got up.

She dressed more slowly than was entirely necessary, checking her reflection in the mirror, "Remember you have a Meeting with the Department of foreign Affairs and Trade. I'm already late for work, so goodbye."

With that she left. She wasn't in fact late for work, but wanted to go home and get a shower and fresh uniform before turning up to meet with Felix. Felix was a very important man, a shadowy figure who many in the know regarded as far more important than the High chancellor or the Government, she wanted to look her best.

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Dzerzhinsky listened to the report with raised eyebrows, not saying anything until it was concluded, "Interesting... so you're saying we're dealig with some kid fresh out of University?"

"Yep." Davies nodded. She was in the offices of the Chief Constable. The last time she'd been here he was busily explaining how she was getting the easy mission and Commisaar Hind was getting the hard one. As it turned out neither had been particularly easy.

"And you think he's addicted to a variety of narcotics, all of which are held in his hotel suite?"

"Well either in the suite or on his person." she conceded.

Dzerzhinsky nodded again, "Furthermore, you say he has potential to become a sexual predator?"

"Not exactly." she clarrified, "I said he has bisexual tendencies, doesn't seem overly worried about incest and will readily administer narcotics to get what he wants."

"Its that last bit that worries me." Dzerzhinsky grunted, "We'll turn it over to a profiler and see what they think, if he didn't have diplomatic immunity we could undoubtedly lock him up for date rape."

Davies grinned, "Oh don't be cruel, he obviously just couldn't resist, and I don't really care to be frank... although I'm not going down that path again, there might be some usefulness to him, but if there is it is very much occluded by his many unforgivable flaws."

The Senior Commisaar grunted again, "Well even if you don't care, other members of Society might, and remember our job is to protect Society."

"So put a tail on him?"

Dzerzhinsky nodded, "Of course, I'll leave you in charge of that Chief Inspector."

She nodded, "Yessir, may I leave and proceed with my duties?"

"Of course... You're being temporarily absconded to Five to head a team, so you can lose the uniform. By the way, HQ has been most impressed by your handling of recent solo missions, there is an opening for a Superintendent in Five, may I reccomend you apply for the promotion?"

"Of course Commisaar." It had been an unexpectedly good morning for Commisaar Davies, while she had woken up with someone she really hadn't intended to sleep with, she'd managed to get a temporary transfer to take Command of a Five team and was looking in line for a promotion. Inwardly she thanked Kwark for being such an obvious problem.

In the meanwhile, the Allanean packed away his drug kit. He put on suit similar in style to the one he wore yesterday - still an anime cosplay suit, but slightly more sane in it’s outlook. He shaved, brushed his teeth, grabbed his PocketPC and went off to his meeting - Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, right?

Outside in Cyro it was a blindingly clear day, the marshes litterally steamed in the sweltering heat. Medway was waiting in the Foyer of the Hotel, looking very smart in a crisp grey suit.

"Is Sir going to a fancy dress party?" one staff member inquired politely (with just a hint of smugness).

The journey today took them to the massive square edifice that was Parliament, with all it's associated trappings. The exterior facade housed monstrous columns, with heavily carved plinths. These gave way once inside the somewhat dimly lit entry hall to two rows of statues (or in some cases feet of statues) that stood around 4 metres high. It was traditional that each fresh regime in Dyelli Beybi destroyed the previous Regime's Statues. The current Socialist Regime still hadn't replaced all the Tzarist ones. Where there was a gap, a large Dyellian flag was draped from the second floor balcony.

The second storey held offices, and a lot of heavily armed police officers, a flight of stairs led up to it. They stopped in the ante-room of one, where they were told by a secretary that "the Minister will be with you in a minute."

"The world is a fancy dress party." - Jonathan Kwark replied, not missing a beat. The Beybians would not know that he was merely quoting the motto of the Port-Allanea University Anime Club - his previous place of work. He followed the Beybians with a strange air of confidence which seemed to clash with the strange outfit he was wearing and the way he and his aide looked among the Beybian officials - that is, they looked like utter weirdoes. That’s what Allanean diplomats usually looked like, of course.

As they arrived at the Parliament building, Jonathan allowed himself a mild smile. Despite Allanea’s poverty, the Congress building was much bigger - enough to house a meeting hall big enough for over 4,600 Congressmen. Of course, it was inefficient - but then, it was designed to be just that. Between that, the bicameral system and enumerated powers, the Allaneans were pretty much safe from the bogeyman called unlimited governments.

Eventually, and after a very long delay Kwark was admitted into the Minister's conference room. It had a nice wooden table at it's centre and seating for eight, although only two seats were taken. The man who turned out to be an aid, stood, introducing his sedentary superior, "The Honourable Doctor Jack Ledoux, Minister of Foreign Affairs and trade."

The Doctor inclined his head politely, he was a small weasely looking man, who was much better suited for Revolution than politics, "You would be the Ambassador for Allanea?"

He looked Kwark up and down quizically. Unlike Kwark he was wearing a well tailored grey business suit, white shirt and tie, "Please take a seat."

An AOS Officer loitered in the corner, he also eyed Kwark suspiciously, although being AOS he was looking for concealed weapons. There was one other person in the room, perched on the windowsill as if she owned the place was Commisaar Davies, now wearing plain clothes; grey jacket and skirt, white blouse and dark sunglasses despite the fact that they were inside. She gave no indication that she recognised Kwark, sporting a bored expression that seemed to say that the petty work of Government was far beneath her exulted Station.

"Now." Ledoux coninued, "It is of course a pleasure to have you here today, so perhaps we can start with you, Ambassador telling us what exactly your State hopes to achieve from these negotiations."

"Several, Comrade. First and foremost, we would like to establish a state of free trade with Dyelli Beybi. Second, we would like to try and secure some contracts for our arms industry -we hear you have a need for weapons, given the… tense situation in the region. Third, and final, we would like to purchase a small island off your shores, for the purposes of setting up a trading outpost and a military base, such as would serve to protect both ours and your interests in the area."

Ledoux smiled, "An intriguing ofer. It would of course be highly illegal under Federation law to sell any piece of the Klatch to a foreign power, but let us not entirely rule something of the type out. How would this be of our 'mutual benefit'?"

"I can see how it benefits you, but it seems to be of limited benefit to us. In these days of mass freight and air travel such a trading post would be more o less pointless. What kind of military would you be intending to place on our doorstep?"

In the background, Davies had got out a nail file, staring out the window with a bored expression as the Minister continued, "Arms trade is strictly controlled. Before we agree to anything, we will be unable to buy goods not produced in Dyelli Beybi, so one would need to set up a company in Dyelli Beybi, unless selling the liscence to a Dyellian Company is easier."

Ledoux found the whole 'Comrade' business intriguing. Ledoux was not, nor had he ever been, affiliated with the Communist party. He was NSWP and had later changed to NPRP, the party currently in Government. He also found it interesting that Kwark negotiated on behalf of what he had presumed were private companies, "Is the arms industry in Allanea is an SOE?"

OOC: What's an SOE?

IC: "Oh, a small group of light gunboats. As per benefit… Think of it this way. Officially, we’re not allied to you. We are prohibited from entering mutual defense pact under the Treaty of the Wolf. However, if a bit of land between you and your enemies belonged to Allanea… and their ships passed in our territorial forces… that would be an act of aggression, now wouldn’t it? And then.. we would be very, very, very angry. So would be our allies, I assure you, Mr. Ledour." He smiled. As per the arms trade… we don’t regulate it as much. We would be perfectly fine with building a factory or three in Dyelli-Beybi, if you let us of course."

OOC: State Owned Enterprise. Will post more later.

"That's what the minefield is for." Ledoux remarked, "we will consider the proposal, however at this stage we can't actually sell land to a foreign power."

"You see." he steepled his fingers, leaning forward in his chair, "Dyelli Beybi isn't independent it is just one of many States in Klatch. We cannot sell land without approval from Central Government. I can promise we will consider the matter, but I can promise no more, if the Vrakians don't give it the go ahead, it will not go ahead."

"Now as for firearms, we can of course facilitate something of the sort, but it will require the Allanean Company involved to submit a full business proposal and will require the M.O.D. to look over the weapon and give it's stamp of approval."

"Now, while we're here I'm sure we can discuss a mutual lowering of protective tarriffs on automobiles valued at under $10,000 US, as well as on titanium and iron exports."

"Very well. I am authorized by the President of Allanea to sign such deals - and then all we have to do is for them to be approved by the Senate. Also, is there any place in Cyro where a permanent embassy can be established?"

"Of course." Ledoux nodded, "There is plenty of room in and around Cyro, although if you wish to establish an embassy compound, rather than renting Office space, you will need to locate on the outskirts. To buy out a suitable area in Central Cyro would be... excedingly expensive, going into the billions of Kronors."

"Anyway, I will get my department to issue a draft proposal for the aforementioned trade deal, which will be given to you at the soonest possible date. Meanwhile I suggest that you speak to any arms companies thinking of trying to enter the Dyellian market and reccomend they issue a proposal to the M.O.D. explaining why exactly they need new weapons, and what exactly they can supply."