NationStates Jolt Archive

Halfway around the globe from the Shield, an much-abused East Gallagaman, the name ‘Baghalpur’ engraved on her bow, makes her way into harbor in Knootoss. She is a small ship, perhaps five thousand tons fully loaded, and right now she is riding high in the water, revealing much of her rust-streaked hull. Her prow is the most disreputable: the high seas of her long voyage have blasted her orange paint straight off. If anyone took a closer look, they would also notice that her steam-pipes had been jury-rig patched so many times under way that it is a minor miracle she even managed to maintain the eight knots she is currently making. Her machinery is kept working with a combination of spit and prayer.

Most ominously, however, are the shell fragments lodged just abaft her bridge, from an Iansislean sloop when she had refused to obey an order to heave-to for boarding near Ceyloba. Baghalpur lost that ship in a storm in the Gallagan ocean, but it was a near-run thing the whole way. Every close scrape with the Iansislean Navy, from running the guns at Fort Jackson to dodging the patrols in the Western Marches to forcing the Strait of Malacca, is recorded as another grey hair on her captain’s head.

Nonetheless, however, her she is, a free ship. She flies St. Adie’s Cross proudly from her masthead, not the Gull Flag of the Republic. And, below her decks, a miracle is taking place

“That’s the spirit, Anna!” exclaims Alice as she, in lieu of James, holds the High Queen’s hand. “Just keep pushing!”

“I think it’s almost out,” says the Baghalpur’s captain, who is delivering the baby. The voyage has taken many more months than he anticipated: they did not see the need to leave port with a doctor aboard. “Yes, yes...”

And then, with a cry that was really more of a muted whimper, the baby is free. The captain cleans it and wraps it in a blanket, perhaps the only clean thing in a cabin which reeks of bilge water and human sweat.

“It’s a baby boy, Your Majesty,” he says, handing it to Anna.

Her two sisters-in-law looking over her shoulder, Anna forces her eyes, slick with tears and grime, open and looks down at her son.

“He has dad’s eyes,” she says, taking a deep nasal breath. “And that’s James’ chin -- I’d know it anywhere.

“He’s a beautiful boy,” Alice says, kissing Anna on the cheek. “Have you thought about a name yet?”

“Well, I had rather thought...maybe James Richard. But I don’t know -- that doesn’t sound right to me. James was thinking about Jeffrey, but that’s not very regal, is it?” The words came pouring out of Anna as she looked at her son, with his bright blue eyes and tiny, grasping fingers.

“If you don’t think it too impertinent of me,” the captain says, holding his cap in his hands, “I was just thinking: the dynasty has faced one major crisis before, and the newborn son of the King was the one who saved it...just speaking out of history, of course, Your Majesty.”

“Well, I think it’s a wonderful idea,” says Jessica.

“Yes,” agrees Anna, running her thumb across the baby’s chest, who giggles and grasps at it. “Ian it is. May he be everything like his ancestor -- and his father.”

“Ring the ship’s bell,” orders the captain. “The King has a son and heir!”

And, with her tiny bell ringing, Baghalpur inches closer to Valinon’s embassy with the entire royal family of Iansisle aboard, minus the king dubbed a tyrant awaiting sentencing by his one-time subjects.

-------

Christopher Leonard Dalen did not have to turn from his shaving to know who was knocking at his door. There was only one hand in all of the Iansislean embassy which rapped quite so precisely.

“Come in, captain,” he said and Captain Roger Evans-Billingsworth, the naval attaché, let himself into the room.

Dalen secretly despised the man, who coupled all the arrogance bred into Iansisle’s naval officers with the aristocratic mannerisms of the eastern Shield. The ambassador didn’t know much about Evans-Billingsworth: just that he had been unfortunate enough to accept an elevation to the peerage for service to the King not a year before the Revolution. Like most of the noble officers, Evans-Billingsworth had been quietly shipped out of active service, doomed to spend the rest of his career shuffling papers in one embassy or another.

“I just thought you should know that a rather important ship has arrived in Knootoss.”

“Oh?” replied Dalen, managing to sound just a little less disinterested than he actually was. “Which one?”

“My men have positively identified it as the rogue Gallagaman which was reported by the Dunerbridge near Ceyloba a month and a half ago.”

“Your men have reported?” asked Dalen suspiciously. “Is that to mean that the Admiralty is housing spies in my embassy without my knowledge?” He had long suspected that, but this was the first solid evidence of the Naval Intelligence Office’s presence in Knootoss.

“I’d hardly call them ‘spies,’” said Evans-Billingsworth calmly. “They just monitor events in the harbors -- nothing more than the average warfmaster would be able to tell me. At any rate, the Admiralty has reason to believe that the crew of this Gallagaman mutinied and stole the ship’s cargo of opiates. It would make sense that they brought it here to Knootoss to sell. I’d like you to see if you can’t persuade the Knootians to prevent anyone from entering or leaving the ship until we’ve had a chance to more fully investigate the problem.”

Dalen immediately protested the suggestion. For one thing, he did not answer to the Admiralty; for another, he would feel uncomfortable putting the request in.

“I’m not sure that our relations with the Dutch Democratic Republic have ...progressed to the stage where such a request would be diplomatic,” said Dalen. Even as he said that, though, he looked at Evans-Billingsworth’s surprisingly intense expression. He realized that this might be a ticket back to a sea-going command for the captain and, despite his better instincts, felt sorry for the man.

“All right, I’ll see what I can do,” sighed Dalen. He sat down to dial Femke and waved Evans-Billingsworth away.

The naval officer strode out of the room with a half-grin on his face. There had been no reason to mention that, when he wired the report to the Admiralty, they had detached the destroyer Argonaut from its Gallagan Ocean convoy for a good-will tour of Knootoss. Dalen was just too easy to manipulate into doing things he was not comfortable with: not the best quality in an ambassador from a diplomatic perspective, but very good from his point of view. He could almost taste the salt spray already.

((ooc: I know it’s not exactly what we were thinking of, Valinon, but what’s a RP without a bit of intrigue? =)

And Knoot, sorry if I took any undue liberties. Just slap me over TG and I’ll fix any problems you have with the post. Sorry to drag you into this mess =).))

((*cough* tag *cough*))

OOC: Do not be sorry. I’ll just reciprocate ;)
IC:

"Ship ahoy!"

The crew of the KDF Barentstochter assembled itself on deck as the destroyer Argonaut moved from being a an electronically registered dot on a radar screen to being a greyish metallic tube on the horizon of the North Atlantic ocean. The sea was as calm as the North Atlantic would ever get on this freezing day in January as she steered herself to a position where she would be alongside the Iansislean Navy vessel, falling in from the north-north-east with a gracious circle movement around the approaching ship.

The men of the old De Ruyter-class Battlecruiser (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/De_Ruyter-class_Battlecruiser) began to assemble on the deck, standard at the ready. A row of men and women of the Marine, in their perky dark-green dress uniforms, neatly arranged themselves in a line on the freshly painted ship. A small navy band assembled itself to play the anthem of the Gull Flag Republic.

The Barentstochter was one of the older ships in the Marine of the Knootian Defence Force. The paint that covered the old rusty spots on its reinforced steel armour hid the age that came with a vessel which had, at one time, been one of the (albeit second-rate) Queens of the Marine. Without any real battleships for competition the De Ruyters served as heads of fleets with some regularity, and the Barentstochter had been a regular sight in North Atlantic patrols several decades ago. Now she was back on the Atlantic, but only to see her role severely reduced to that of an overpowered but somewhat outdated General Purpose Escort. After having previously served in a very pleasant assignment as Station Guardship in a warm harbour of Knootian Colombia, escorting the Argonaut to the eager Evans-Billingsworth seemed routine and boring to her crew.

"Long live the Republic!", a Luitenant-Commandeur called out as the attention sounded, a clear trumpet blowing into the wind to signal the start of parading the guard of the day …

Rotterdam, Knootoss

"Open up, Open up! Harbour police! Open up this door now or we will have to force it open!"

The impatient knocking on the cabin door that gave access to the main deck of the Baghalpur continued. The Iansisle ship had been relegated to a lonely dock somewhere on the outskirts of an older Rotterdam harbour, more inland and away from the great industrial processes and chemical plants that dominated the gigantic mainport. Most of the day it had been quiet, but now there were footsteps all over the deck and there was shouting on the dock in strange, Hunnish voices. Of course the demanding voices were speaking Dutch, not German, but the difference to one who did not speak either language was not so readily apparent…

Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler had never considered himself a nervous man, but the seemingly innumerable changes in his world were working on it. The late afternoon sun streaming through the vast window that dominated the wall behind his desk was giving away to the blazing fire that set the embassy’s grounds on fire.

A few years ago, when the Star Empire abandoned the last of its Old Earth treaty ports, the former embassy to Knootoss had become the central bastion for Her Imperial Majesty’s Ministry for Foreign Affairs. And Reinstadler had suddenly found himself bearing the title of Fourth Minister for Her Imperial Majesty’s Foreign Affairs, with responsibility over all diplomatic initiatives and missions on Earth and Luna. With a growing staff, and with pressure from the Home Office, Reinstadler had relocated the embassy to a sprawling enclave along the Knootian coastline, a short drive by ground-car or a quick flight by grav-coptor to The Hague and Knootcap proper. Plus he had fought and still retained the smaller building and grounds located in the Wassenaar District in case a protracted situation required an extended stay in Knootcap. But that still left him spending more and more time at the new enclave, which many that worked at it jokingly called Das Reich Haus alluding to the luxurious hotel chain scattered throughout the Star Empire.

As for Reinstadler’s nerves, the ongoing war in the Raumreich continued to consume more and more of the Star Empire’s resources and last week the Home Office had sent out a message to all Solar offices that they were to “hold the status quo”, “not seek to provoke any crisis”, and finally to “ensure that the alliances and bilateral agreements to Her Majesty and Her Government remain strong.” That alone would have been enough, considering the fluctuating state of Old Earth’s affairs, but then the Iansislean crisis had flared again. And now Reinstadler found himself awaiting the arrivals of the remaining members of the free Iansislean royal family and a direct representative of House Alderman along with his retainers from Her Majesty’s Special Liaison Service and a Sovereign Protector (or Hochste Protectors) contingent. No official announcement had come from Imperial Centre, but given the fact that High King James was being tried by the self-proclaimed Gull Flag Republic and the flight of the rest of the royal family it looked that the Star Empire would be aiding in the establishment of an Iansislean government-in-exile.

Reinstadler is interrupted from reading the last reports from the KIST diplomatic meetings by a sharp, steady rap at the door. He glances at his watch, seeing it is time for Roger Gray, his ESS adjutant, to arrive.

“Come in.”

Gray wears the black tunic and gray pants of the Ministry of External State Security, the rank pips of Oberfuhrer ride on his collar and shoulders.

“We may have a problem in regards to our new refugees, Sir Wilhelm,” Gray says as he takes his accustomed seat in front of Reinstadler’s desk. “It seems their vessel is being scrutinized by the harbour police. The reports I’ve been able to intercept from the dispatches list the freighter as being a suspected pirated vessel run by a crew of mutineers. They are investigating those claims.”

“A little to convenient for my tastes, Roger. I take it our new friends in the Wassenaar District may have had a hand in this.”

“Whether Ambassador Dalen and his staff were involved is only something I can speculate, sir. The Gull Flag Republic’s embassy is too new and I have no faithful contacts in it. Most of what I can gather from it comes from intelligence gathered from the other intelligence services, and from informants I have in the Knootian bureaucracy. But I would be inclined to believe speculation here.”

Reinstadler rubs his eyes, “And if that is the case there is a high chance it’s more than just harbour police inspecting the boat. If that is the case that leaves us very little room to be either subtle or nice about this, doesn’t it, Roger?”

“No, sir, it does not.”

Reinstadler sighs, “Can I trust that you have been your usual efficient self, Roger, and already have a few eyes, ears, and hands around the ship?”

“Have I ever failed you before, sir?”

“That I can remember, no, but you may have very well covered it up so I wouldn’t have found out about it.”

“That is my expertise, sir.”

“Yes, and sometimes it scares me. Here’s what we need to do, Roger. I’m going to send Lyn Arryn to the docks with a pair of Hautpmann Tarly’s men. I will tell him the nature of the true situation at the docks, but his basic motive will be to recover an unspecified number of refugees who have expressed their wishes to seek political asylum from Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty’s Government and fled Iansisle. With luck the Knootians will stand down long enough to contact their superiors, and that’s where you and your men come in. I want you to have one of your devious little hands get onboard that ship and find our royals. He’s to tell them to be as unobtrusive as possible, and if they are interrogated by the harbour police, they’re to start demanding political asylum and the right to speak to a representative of the embassy in Knootoss.”

The ESS man smiles slightly, “You have a mind for sowing conflict, sir.”

“God willing it won’t. The Knootians are renowned for their own international reputation and for taking in refugees; hopefully they won’t begrudge other nations taking on some. Otherwise, this could get a lot more interesting and a lot dirtier than I think the Home Office anticipated.”

“Shall I prepare for the worse?”

“You don’t always?”

Roger stands with the same small smile, “From time to time I do get a surprise. I shall make sure my men at the docks know what to do.”

“Good,” Reinstadler summons his secretary with a n-plant message. The young woman enters as Gray excuses himself to get through the door.

“Arya, tell Herr Morya I need to speak with him regarding the Iansisleans. And tell him I suggest that Wächter Sethson come with him.”

Arya nods and leaves. Reinstadler turns to face the fiery orb of Sol while waiting for the retainers of the Star Empire’s imperial family. Neither of them are anywhere near as bad as the “Hands” of Gustav II Reinstadler can remember visiting Sol and Earth on occasions during the reign of the self-proclaimed Lion Emperor, but there has been an aura that surrounds the personal agents of House Alderman. It’s one that still makes even members of the peerage uneasy. The Aldermans are still the executive power in the Star Empire, and one that has a good deal more power than many in the international community. Given that Reinstadler doubts that their personal agents will ever rid themselves of a certain presence that will always inspire a little bit of fear in those they visit.

And given the personal interest Empress Friedelinde and many of the Star Empire’s own aristocrats are taking in the Gull Flag Republic’s campaign to stamp out the Iansislean royal family and Iansislean peerage, it is not an area that will brook room for many failures. Reinstadler would even admit he’d be among the first to support action against the new Iansislean “government”, and he wished fervently the Star Empire could spare the manpower to restore sense to the Shield. But that didn’t make his job any easier at the moment, so he waits seeking a way to spend this less than desirable development.

**********

Several minutes after the harbour police board the Baghalpur and prepare to undertake the inspection of its cargo and crew, a simple black ground-car of Knootian manufacture escorted by a pair of Reichswehr grav-bikes slides up to the pier. A man wearing one of the somber three-piece suits favored in Valinon gets out of the car as the Sardaukar get off their bikes. The Sardaukar are relatively unobtrusive, each wears only the charcoal uniform trimmed in black and their side arms. Both have bear the unique crest of the Emergency Response Teams (ERTs), the specially trained unit that serves as the security personnel at all embassies, consulates, and trade legations of the Star Empire, and the unit designator identifying them as the Knootian detachment—specifically the ones assigned to the enclave in the Wassenaar District.

Consul Lyn Arryn, Lord Reinstadler’s personal representative and adjutant in Wassenaar, moves rapidly down the pier and up the ramp connecting the Iansislean merchantman to its berth with is single guardsman in tow. He calmly approaches the ranking member of the police inspection crew and pulls out his credentials from his jacket’s internal breast pocket.

”Sir, I represent Her Imperial Majesty, Her Majesty’s Government, and the United Star Empire of Valinon. I am here on behalf of Lord Reinstadler, Her Majesty’s Ambassador to the Republic. We were contacted by several private citizens of Iansisle several weeks ago who were growing increasingly concerned with the state of affairs on the Shield and wished to seek political asylum from the Star Empire. Lord Reinstadler has reason to believe that they were to arrive in Knootoss on this ship. If your men have found anyone claiming to refugee status, I would like to speak with them posthaste.”

While Arryn speaks with the harbour police, a small group of dock hands moves down the pier opposite the Baghalpur. They reach a smaller tramp freighter a few slips up from the Iansislean ship and start to unload the cargo. One of the men, apparently the crew supervisor barks some orders and then wanders to the rail. He eyes the Baghalpur lazily as he leans against the rail, his expression obviously that of a man thinking “thank God it’s not my ship!”

**re-edit** -- I've added / changed a bit so this now takes Valinon's post into account. =)

Compared to a battlecruiser, Argonaut was simply not a very imposing vessel. Completed as part of the first flotilla ordered by the 14-year Linhower Plan, she was barely 1/25th the size of the Barentstochter. However, Lieutenant Commander F.G. Euvine, her commanding officer, turned up his crew as they prepared to render passing honors.

Had she any music aboard, Argonaut would have returned the honor by playing the Knootian national anthem*, but they had to make do instead with drums and the marines firing off a twenty-one gun salute to their flag.

Keen observers on the Barentstochter might notice that the Iansislean destroyer hardly looked the part of a ship of state. Her brass was well-polished and her decks clean, but Argonaut had the distinct impression of a working ship -- hardly what would be sent on a ‘show the flag’ tour.

*which I know has a name, but for some reason your wiki site isn't working for me =/. Just pretend I inserted the proper name right there =P

"Open up, Open up! Harbour police! Open up this door now or we will have to force it open!"

“Is it the Gestapo?” asked Jessica, backing away the hatch a bit.

“No,” replied the Baghalpur’s captain. “I’d say, considering that we’re in Knootoss, that that is Dutch, not German. Still...” He looked around at his royal crew. “Perhaps we ought to allow them to explain themselves first. Jones! Aberny! Take the gentleladies below and hide them well. I’ll see what this is all about.

Perhaps it is just the Valinor coming to collect us.. he thought, but still patted the familiar lump inside his coat pocked. Then, with a deep breath, he threw the hatch open.

Outside, a pair of dock workers were watching the entire operation keenly.

“It looks like they’ve been let in,” said one to the other in Dutch. “Come on, he added, jogging easily up to one of the guards on the dock.

“Hey!” he said. “Can you spare us a light?” He held up a pack of cigarettes. “I’ve left mine at home.”

((now inclusive of Valinon's post! =) ))

"Well, that's nice!" the man said as Lyn Arryn swept past him up the gangplank. However, the NIO man was thinking quickly -- the situation had suddenly become critical.

Back on the pier, a similarly disreputable-looking dockworker pulled out a hand-held wireless unit and began speaking quickly into it in English. Back at the Iansislean embassy, a large Westerton Jackrabbit fired up its engine and lumbered out onto the street -- reinforcements of the official kind had been summoned. They could only hope that the Knootians would stall the Valinor long enough for Captain Evans-Billingsworth to arrive.

Ooh, isn' it exciting?

*poke Knoot*

*poke WoS just for fun*

OOC: sorry... tried last night but didn't get this one in even if I know what I want to say... visit to grandmother now, post when I get back.

OOC: managed to squeeze this in before leaving anyway. Also: purple=Dutch please. I’m trying to beat consistency into people. :P

"I dun’ care if you are the Empress of Lavenrunz herself, mister", a tall, bearded man in a police officers uniform replied to Consul Lyn Arryn with a very thick Rotterdam accent. He was clearly displeased that some foreign windbag had been allowed to just walk onto the deck in the middle of the investigation. "This is a police investigation, and all civvies have to stand back. Get yerself off this boat or I will have to report yer." In a rapid motion the Knootian inclined his head sideways in a not-to-be-misunderstood gesture that the unwanted visitor was to clear off.

"No smoking on duty, sorry" one of the three armed policemen holding guard on the dock itself said apologetically to the 'dockworker'. "Now unfortunately I’m going to have to ask you to back off… this ship is under review."

Baghalpur’s captain, meanwhile, found himself staring right into the cold steel end of two police guns and a very official-looking blue badge with some blue markings, the colours of the Knootian flag and a marine anchor of the harbour police.

"Police investigation", an unpleasant-looking man told him in English as he was pulled up onto the deck. "This vessel is suspected of carrying stolen materials and smuggled wares. We have a permit to search this vessel. Any stolen goods found will be impounded and those responsible will be persecuted to the full extent of the law. Do you understand this?"

OOC: sorry... tried last night but didn't get this one in even if I know what I want to say... visit to grandmother now, post when I get back.

((It's no worries, Knoot, considering the rate at which I usually post. Just that I got off work for a quick vacation yesterday (yay!) and now I'm not sure to do with all this free time =) ))

"No smoking on duty, sorry" one of the three armed policemen holding guard on the dock itself said apologetically to the 'dockworker'. "Now unfortunately I’m going to have to ask you to back off… this ship is under review."

The NIO man retreated a few steps to the edge of the warf, where he stood and rubber-necked the operation.

"What's this all about?" he shouted to the same guard. "Seems like a while since I've seen this much to-do about a little Gallagaman on her last legs."

Baghalpur’s captain, meanwhile, found himself staring right into the cold steel end of two police guns and a very official-looking blue badge with some blue markings, the colours of the Knootian flag and a marine anchor of the harbour police.

"Police investigation", an unpleasant-looking man told him in English as he was pulled up onto the deck. "This vessel is suspected of carrying stolen materials and smuggled wares. We have a permit to search this vessel. Any stolen goods found will be impounded and those responsible will be persecuted to the full extent of the law. Do you understand this?"

The captain was so happy that he was not facing the olive green of the Iansislean marines that he was quite unable to resist being dragged up on deck. A precursory search of his person would probably reveal the ancient Galveston .38 revolver stuffed into his jacket's inside pocket. The only word he heard, however, was 'persecuted.'

"No, sir, please, whatever you do don't send us back!" he said. His strong Shadoranite accent -- which is generally described as 'quickly spitting out syllables as if they had a bad taste' -- might be a little hard to understand for a non-English native.

Down in the hold, the police would find six crates with the words "Property of the East Gallaga Company" stenciled on the side. Inside of each where hundreds of bricks of processed opium -- a huge fortune on the streets of those countries where it was illegal and a slightly smaller one in those where it was not.

In the captain's cabin, the harbor police would find two sailors guarding the closet, where they could hear a baby crying.

Lyn Arryn arches an eyebrow at the police officer, seemingly unaffected by his brusque manner.

"I am afraid that I cannot do that, sir. Just as you have to discharge your duties required by your government, I must discharge the ones required of me by mine. And right now that is seeing to it that refugees fleeing the crisis in the Shield that have requested the protection of asylum from Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty's Government are given that protection and all it entails. Her Imperial Majesty takes request of protection from House Alderman quite seriously, and fully intends to make sure that the faith and hope of these innocents are not misplaced, especially after the considerable stress they must have endured during their journey to Knootoss."

"Her Imperial Majesty will personally certify that these refugees are not violent criminals. Although we will admit that the accomodations they were forced to resort to for their travel are somewhat...less than desirable...this is due to the current nature of affairs within the Shield. Being refugees seeking to escape the brutalities of the current illegal government of the Shield, the refugees were forced to find less than scrupluous men to see to their journey. The refugees are merely unfortunately associated with these men, but they are not responsible for their actions or any illicit cargo this ship may be plying across the sea lanes. Her Imperial Majesty has sent me to be ensure that they are not unduly harassed because of associations made in sheer desperation."

Arryn locks his gaze with the officer's own, "All I am asking, sir, is that myself and my men be allowed to accompany you and see to the safety of the refugees--not interfere with the inspection of the ship's cargo. However, if you choose to make an issue of this I will respond in kind. First I will walk down to the pier and file a complaint with the Harbor Police's main office, then I will file a complaint with the Foreign Office, and then I will report to Lord Reinstadler and urge him to file a petition and a compliant with Prime Minister Daatman's office. Meanwhile, I will continue to stand on that pier and if anyone shouts out for asylum--even if it's the entire crew of this vessel--I will personally see to it that it is granted. And in all cases I will make sure your name appears at the very top of any report or complaint filed."

"Now shall I be allowed to see to my refugees, sir? Or must I start making calls to see to it that your job becomes a tiny piece of hell?"

Arryn waits patiently for the officer's response, already bringing up his n-plant's skull phone just in case. His Sardaukar escort is already one step ahead of him, mostly because his orders were to contact Oberfuhrer Grey's men if this sort of situation arose. He sub-vocalizes a message and sends it to the blind delivery address given to him by the ESS adjutant.

<Police posing possible threat to safe extradition of the subject. Recommend implementing Hermes>

Seconds later a response comes.

<Received, thank you for your services>

**********

Apparently bored with the situation a few hulks down, the supervisor on the other docked freighter wanders away from the railing and turns back to watch the cargo containers being unload. Suddenly, given his tone angered by some underling's failings, he starts cursing and barking in Dutch. The containers are not being handled to his standards, an unforgiveable sin in the eyes of this man.

As the supervisor rages at a pair of younger dockhands, who look sheepish as he yells and berates them with his hands, another one of their crew calmly walks between a row of containers and draws out a small circular device with what looks like ablative wings protruding from each side. The man also detaches a chip from the underside of the device, and pulls off his work glove, revealing a small metal square with several input jacks attached to the back of his hand. He inserts the chip and then stands.

A few seconds later, the device rises rapidly off the deck and hovers at chest level height with the man. Then it flies away from the ship, toward the run-down Gallagan. For a few minutes it buzzes along the hull, feeding audio and visual information to its operator as it peers briefly into portholes and listens with electronic ears. Then suddenly, as it passes over the ship's superstructure, it hears plantive cries. Rapidly the device reorients, flies to a porthole, and attaches. A tiny, relatively low-powered laser activates and traverses around the edge of the device. It slides through the hole, with virtually no spare room to be had.

It flies in, and then drops into the relative center of the room. The top portion opens up like a bizarre flower, revealing more delicate, silver-colored internal workings. There is a brief buzz and a beam of light stabs outward. From the light steps a relatively low-resolution hologram, rendered in various shades rather than full color. It's the price for jamming the small device with so many other components.

The figure of a relatively plain looking man wearing a military cut uniform with a darker tunic, grey pants, and jack boots surveys the room.

"Queen Jessica," the figure speaks, "please do not be alarmed. I am Oberfuhrer Roger Grey, of Her Imperial Majesty's Ministry for External State Security and the United Star Empire of Valinon."

"Princess Jessica," the figure speaks, "please do not be alarmed. I am Oberfuhrer Roger Grey, of Her Imperial Majesty's Ministry for External State Security and the United Star Empire of Valinon."

Roger Grey's figure, appearing in such close quarters as the captain's coat closet, did frighten the three women who were trying to hide there. Anna almost dropped Ian, Jessica just managed to stifle a scream, and even Alice looked a little taken aback.

After a few seconds, Jessica recovered sufficiently to mutter a few unrelated words -- "Who? Valinon? How? Help!"

But that was just about the same time as the Knootian harbor police came into the room.

((I call dibs on the next post.))

((I call dibs on the next post.))

((*posts before Knootoss can*))

((I should also mention that OOC rambling is not only allowed but actively encouraged in all my threads ^.^))

OOC: well, I was a bit miffed that Valinon just posted all that… because really I would have liked to grab that consul and have him dragged him off the ship halfway that rant of his. The same really goes for the buzzy scarab thing, as our guys outside the ship wouldn’t just stand there, drooling and going ‘oooooh… butterfly…. pretty’ as it flies around. But then that situation is about to be remedied...

Oh... and hovercrafty/flycrap would definitely not get permission for flyovers. Let alone Greek (demi)God extraction devices. Sorry. ;)

IC.
The guard on the dockside suddenly appeared too busy to answer the question of the ‘friendly dockworker’ as he turned to observe a row on the deck. The refined-looking man who had just strode by him onto the deck was grabbed under his elbows by two very tough police officers and walked (ever so politely) to the gangplank and onto the dock. This premature departure was accompanied by some tense scathing shouts made with a thick Rotterdam accent. In Rotterdam, the ‘a’ tended to turn into a thick ‘ai’ and the letter ‘t’ had a tendency of finding itself in places where it most certainly did not belong grammatically, but the man yelling them (along with some words that are perhaps not so appropriate for repeating) was perfectly clear to understand.

"An’ you dun’ try to get back on this ship or I’ll take y’all in for questioning!”

After this display, the guards standing on the dock tightened the hold on their weapons as they looked with distrust at the ex-visitor and his friends. It was pretty obvious that they were not going to let anyone else in any time soon, if only to escape the wrath of their very pissed-off commander.

The officer with the badge on the deck, meanwhile, nodded, semi-understanding to the captain. The weapons pointing at him were lowered.

"Refugees eh?", he asked curiously as a group of harbour policemen went downstairs to search the ship. "Well, they’ve come to the right place then. Coming out of the colonies?" He shook his head warily as he watched the Valinon consul and the agitation of his superior officer. With a frown, he patted the captain on the shoulder. "No matter. We'll figure this all out at the police station. However, I would like to know if there is any other cargo that you perhaps have not declared yet..." His lips turned into a thin smile.

Meanwhile below deck the cabin door leading to the Royal Family flung open just as the flying gizmo began to project its holographic display.

"It’s a killer drone!", the young policewoman who happened to stand in front yelled. "Get down!". Promptly she aimed for the device with expert reflexes and fired six rounds at it in quick succession..

The guard on the dockside suddenly appeared too busy to answer the question of the ‘friendly dockworker’ as he turned to observe a row on the deck. The refined-looking man who had just strode by him onto the deck was grabbed under his elbows by two very tough police officers and walked (ever so politely) to the gangplank and onto the dock. This premature departure was accompanied by some tense scathing shouts made with a thick Rotterdam accent. In Rotterdam, the ‘a’ tended to turn into a thick ‘ai’ and the letter ‘t’ had a tendency of finding itself in places where it most certainly did not belong grammatically, but the man yelling them (along with some words that are perhaps not so appropriate for repeating) was perfectly clear to understand.

"An’ you dun’ try to get back on this ship or I’ll take y’all in for questioning!”

The dockworker watched in a rather bemused manner as the Valinor consul and his escort were dumped off the Gallagaman.

"Have a light?" he asked them, holding his cigarette out.

The officer with the badge on the deck, meanwhile, nodded, semi-understanding to the captain. The weapons pointing at him were lowered.

"Refugees eh?", he asked curiously as a group of harbour policemen went downstairs to search the ship. "Well, they’ve come to the right place then. Coming out of the colonies?" He shook his head warily as he watched the Valinon consul and the agitation of his superior officer. With a frown, he patted the captain on the shoulder. "No matter. We'll figure this all out at the police station. However, I would like to know if there is any other cargo that you perhaps have not declared yet..." His lips turned into a thin smile.

"Refugees!" exclaimed the captain, locking on to the word. "Yes, we were told to come here to meet with the ambassador of Valinon -- we're from Iansisle." He didn't mention the royal nature of his mission; it would probably muddy the waters rather than clear them.

"Other cargo? Um, I do remember shipping some crates of -- um -- Gallagan silks and such -- but I assure you they were only there as my cargo before picking up the refugees.

Meanwhile below deck the cabin door leading to the Royal Family flung open just as the flying gizmo began to project its holographic display.

"It’s a killer drone!", the young policewoman who happened to stand in front yelled. "Get down!". Promptly she aimed for the device with expert reflexes and fired six rounds at it in quick succession..

None of the Iansislean women nor the two crewmen spoke Dutch, but the meaning was clear enough once the policewoman opened fire. Anna pulled Ian closer to her and collapsed behind the bunk, Alice ducking down with her. Aberny threw himself on top of Jessica, but Jones went for the pistol he carried in a hip holster, thinking that the fire was directed at him.

((EDIT -- on the topic of accents, I was actually told today by a friend of mine from Boston that I have a 'typical California accent.' I've never been accused of having one before, so I'm rather proud. Rather, I suppose I should say 'radical!' Like, hang ten man! ^.^ ))

((OOC: Har. My accent when speaking English is, well, Dutch... not a very strong Dutch accent though, fortunately. I tend to cringe when some of our politicians at EU summits think they should be internationalist and speak English when they really should not. >_<

Anyway I'm having a bit of trouble trying to translate a local Dutch accent into English so I just faked another accent. The 'get outta my jurisdiction' sentiment was the main thing for me to convey anyway so it does not really matter I suppose. ;) Anyway I'm gonna wait a bit for Valinon to respond...))

((OOC: Har. My accent when speaking English is, well, Dutch... not a very strong Dutch accent though, fortunately. I tend to cringe when some of our politicians at EU summits think they should be internationalist and speak English when they really should not. >_<

Anyway I'm having a bit of trouble trying to translate a local Dutch accent into English so I just faked another accent. The 'get outta my jurisdiction' sentiment was the main thing for me to convey anyway so it does not really matter I suppose. ;) Anyway I'm gonna wait a bit for Valinon to respond...))

((I've never tried to speak Dutch, but I'm sure I'd have a terrible accent. One of the reasons I decided to take Latin at the university was so I wouldn't have to worry too much about my accent since there aren't really any native speakers -- all the kids in my Spanish class used to call me a gringo. =*(

On the other hand, I love regional accents (well, for the most part. New York tends to grate on my nerves), which is probably a reason I was so happy to be told I had one. I couldn't coax a precise definition out of my friend, but I found out it had something to do with dropping low at the end of sentences and elongating vowels but speaking quickly.

'course, she still hasn't learned how to pronounce the letter 'R' (clam chowdah), so take this all with a grain of salt =) ))

((OOC: I was expecting a Valinon post after an IRC conversation we had, but there has been none. I just spent my day watching the entire Napoleon miniseries on DVD and for some reason it really made me feel like posting to this thread. Assuming that this will not end in a shoot-out then I’ll move forward a bit…))

"They are refugees…", a whisper came from the deck above just before the Knootian police officers were going to confront the family behind the bunk. The captains words changed the mood of the agents there. On the other decks, the search for contraband continued but the policemen approaching Jones did so with open arms.

"Friendly", they said in English now. "Knootian police; we are here to help."

The men and women of the harbour police may have been friendly in their approach, but they were nonetheless quite insistent that the family move out. Hurried and sometimes agitated conversations in Dutch flurried past the members of the Royal Family. Aberny, who was first to be brought up into the bright daylight on deck, could just see the ships captain being whisked away in handcuffs. Armed policemen around obscured the situation on the dock as the police captain in charge of the operations clapped in his mobile phone and put it in his pocket as their eyes adjusted to the light..

"Welcome to Knootoss, ladies and gentlemen", he greeted the group congenially. "My name is Hendrik De Maraud, I’m a captain in the harbour police of Rotterdam. This ship has been searched for carrying contraband and is impounded by the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss, which is where you are now…" he paused to look at the young baby that was still cradled protectively in Anna’s arms, "… so it seems, we will have to take you in as illegal aliens on suspicion of illegal entry into Knootoss, and aiding and abetting illegal entry of contraband materials." The smile of the Knootian was friendly, but thoroughly professional. "Recreational drugs may be legal here but certainly not without an import licence and the necessary quality control permits. The captain of this vessel has made no statements implicating your involvement but I am nonetheless going to have you all taken to the police station to clear things up. If you are here to ask for asylum then you have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be assigned to you. The child …" he looked closer, reaching out to Ian. "The child looks as if it has recently been born? " He paused briefly, hesitating as he looked into the mothers eyes. "We have some very good doctors that can look into him, give him a good check up to make sure that he is healthy…"

At this point his words were overtaken by the sound of sirens as several police wagons arrived, pulling up on the dock with screeching tires.

"Please follow me now without resistance, so that we can do this without handcuffs and the like. I would not want your first impression of my country to be a bad one..."

Roughly three hours after Consul Arryn had his unfortunate run of luck at the docks, Lord Reinstadler in his office trying to sort over the details of the most recent dispatches from Alpha Centauri. There is a terse rap at the door, and then it swings open.

Lord Reinstadler does not like the look on Grey’s face as he quietly shuts the door and moves toward the chairs in front of his desk. Reinstadler sits aside the stylus for his comp-pad and pours a glass of water from the pitcher sitting off to one side.

“I do not think you are bringing me good news, Roger. And judging from the fact I have not heard about the Knootians deciding to suddenly declare war on the Star Empire, I will take it this has something to do with our Iansislean friends.”

“I am afraid there have been complications in their extradition, My Lord.”

“This already sounds painful.”

“The Knootian harbor police impounded the ship that the Iansisleans arrived on, apparently they have been implicated in carrying illicit drugs into the Democratic Republic.”

“Drugs that are illegal in Knootoss? What in the world were they carrying? Or is this just a ruse from our friends in the Gull Flag Republic.”

“Given the nature of the vessel they used to arrive in Knootoss, My Lord, I am inclined to think the smuggling charges may actually be legitmate—although I will not exclude the possibility of the new Iansislean having a hand in this. As for the matter of the charges, it is more the fact they were trying to smuggle drugs into Knootoss that is causing a problem, not that the drugs themselves were illegal. But my men have confirmed that our royal refugees were taken into custody by the harbor police, although they gave no indication of knowing who they were and they were not mistreated.”

A buzz rattles the inside of Lord Reinstadler’s skull.

“Excuse me for a moment, Roger. I am getting a call, from Lyn.”

The ESS man nods and waits.

<I hear things did not go as planned, Lyn>

<I am afraid not, My Lord. The Knootians have taken Her Royal Highness and her family into custody, partially because they were trying to enter Knootoss illegally and partially because their ship was trying to smuggle illicit substances. They are being held at the harbor police station. I am on my way there, but I was going to recommend you send one of the embassy’s legal staff to represent Her Royal Highness during the course of this investigation.>

<I think that can be done easily enough, Lyn. But did Her Royal Highness and her entourage seem harmed in any way?>

<No, My Lord. Although there was a newborn with the party we had not anticipated.>

<Newborn?>

<Yes, My Lord.>

<That is interesting to say the least. Thank you, Lyn, please stay as close to Her Highness as possible. I will be sending someone as soon as possible.>

<Thank you, My Lord. But there is one more thing.>

<Yes?>

<Could you see if we can also grant the ship’s crew sanctuary?>

<That may be difficult, Lyn. Especially if they are going to be charged, but I will do what I can.>

<Thank you, My Lord.>

<Don’t think me yet, Lyn. Now see to our guests, I doubt Her Highness will take this well.>

With that Reinstadler cuts the link and turns back to Grey.

“It seems Queen Anna may have had her child during the voyage. Lyn mentioned there was a newborn with the party.”

Grey shrugs, “A possible sympathy card with the Knootian government then. Keeping a mother and her child locked away for a crime they had nothing to do won’t look good if we let it slip to the Knootian media.”

Reinstadler sighs, “I hope that won’t become necessary. But I do need to send Queen Anna and her family a legal representative to deal with the Knootian authorities.”

“You sound like you have someone already in mind.”

“It just so happens Her Imperial Majesty sent us a very highly qualified man with a doctorate in international law and six years of previous service with the Foreign Office’s legal department—including five years of service at this embassy. Would you be so kind as to tell Herr Morya back in, Grey? I think this will be right up his alley.”

Grey stands and bows, “My Lord, I believe I’ve already said it once to day—you have a devious mind.”

“An unfortunate habit that is necessary in my line of work. Now let us try and get through this as quickly as possible, I want to return to my personal comfort zone of normalcy as soon as possible.”

“I will see to that, My Lord.”

((ooc: Yeah, just out of character for now. Sorry =/. I've been hit with a combination of English papers and the cold -- no fun. I've read the posts, though, and there's a plan forming in my head...I think. Might just be the congestion.

Anyway, hopefully I’ll be able to reply to this topic before the weekend. This post is mostly to let you know that I’m still here and still interested.

Oh, and on a purely pedantic note, I should mention that Anna, the wife of James, is the High Queen of the Shield. Jessica is her older sister-in-law, Alice her younger. [/pedant]

k, I’m going to go pop some nyquil (well, some Kirkland Signature nyquil-a-like, anyway) and call this a night. I’ll post as soon as I can. =)

~Ian))

((its okay Ian. I am puzzled how Valinon comes to know about the charges and all that, though, seeing as we did not inform them and I explicitly mentioned distance, people standing around them talking, etc. 0_o ))

OOC: I was working under the fact that my last post came two to three hours after the events at the dock, Knoot. And that Grey and Reinstadler--with pressure being applied to them from on high back in AC--had used their own resources to figure out why the royals were taken in to custody. I also figured it would give you some time to just RP with Ian while the Valinor ready their next move to try and get the royals put into their custody.

OOC: As we discussed on IRC; its fine now. Post away, Ian!

OCC: Does anyone object to my getting involved in this?

OCC: Does anyone object to my getting involved in this?

((It's fine by me, of course, LRR -- the Republic needs all the friends it can get =). But this is Knootoss, so we should probably run it by him. What were you thinking?))

“They’ve already got the cap’n,” muttered Aberny to the people behind him as he was led up to the deck.

"Welcome to Knootoss, ladies and gentlemen", he greeted the group congenially. "My name is Hendrik De Maraud, I’m a captain in the harbour police of Rotterdam. This ship has been searched for carrying contraband and is impounded by the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss, which is where you are now…" he paused to look at the young baby that was still cradled protectively in Anna’s arms, "… so it seems, we will have to take you in as illegal aliens on suspicion of illegal entry into Knootoss, and aiding and abetting illegal entry of contraband materials." The smile of the Knootian was friendly, but thoroughly professional. "Recreational drugs may be legal here but certainly not without an import licence and the necessary quality control permits. The captain of this vessel has made no statements implicating your involvement but I am nonetheless going to have you all taken to the police station to clear things up. If you are here to ask for asylum then you have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be assigned to you. The child …" he looked closer, reaching out to Ian.

Anna held in her breath and pulled the newborn closer to her bosom as De Maraud leaned in.

"The child looks as if it has recently been born? " He paused briefly, hesitating as he looked into the mothers eyes. "We have some very good doctors that can look into him, give him a good check up to make sure that he is healthy…"

"Absolutely not," said Anna. "I'm not letting him out of my sight."

"What my sister means," said Jessica, stepping slightly in front of Anna, "is that we have just made a long and perilous journey to reach these shores, where we had been informed that we would be granted political asylum, not treated like common criminals." She nodded at the police wagons before turning her eyes back to De Maraud in a desperate attempt to salvage some royal dignity.

"We will condescend go to your interrogation room, but I would like it on your word of honor that my sister and her baby will be allowed the medical attention they deserve, and that the men, including this ship’s captain, who have all worked so diligently to bring us this far will not be returned to Iansisle."

------

"Looks like they're taking the crew up on deck now," said one of the NIO men to the other. A small crowd had now gathered to rubberneck the entire procedure and they blended in fairly well. A healthy amount of speculation was going on as to why the ship had been searched.

“Look at that!” he partner suddenly hissed in English. The first man was about to chide him when he put up his own glasses and saw...

“The consort of the tyrant-northman!”

There were a few seconds of silence between them. The other members seemed not to have heard the whispered conversation, or at least not understand it nor care enough to wonder why two of their number were whispering in a foreign language.

“You’d better call this in,” whispered the first at last.

OCC: Oh, the usual inept Robotstani response. Mabye a Spitfire PR.19 will show up, crash and make a diplomatic incident...I'm really up for anything.

OOC: Sure thing. Uh. *sifts through the dusty archives of the Knootian Foreign ministry* Don't we have relations? KIST or something?

IC:
’Aanmeldcentrum’ Rotterdam

The Royal Family was whisked to an old red-brick building in the east of Rotterdam, which (as a friendly police officer in one of the vans explained) was charged with the processing of refugees and asylum requests. Upon their arrival the family was offered some coffee and tea by a female officer. The police escort never left their side until, after a twenty minutes wait, a tall bald man with a tiny moustache came to greet them. His speech (in English) was slow at first, and seemed just a little louder than was necessary. His appearance as a whole was dull, although his bust gesticulation (as if he were explaining something to a child) was somewhat amusing. He motioned for the family to remain seated as he stood in front of them.

"I am Joop Geraert of the Immigration and Naturalisation service. Welcome to Knootoss and I apologise for the wait. I have been informed that the adults amongst you are still under criminal investigation but…" his voice trailed, "in light of the special nature of your particular immigration it was felt that we needed to be especially expedient in processing you. I hope you can appreciate that. After we have processed you here you will be transferred back into police custody pending the investigation into smuggling activities. Any questions so far?"

The man did not actually wait very long for questions, and he kept looking to the door as if he was expecting someone else to arrive.

"Now, according to procedure I am obliged to ask for your identities, your nationality and your mode of travel here. If you posses passports of the Gull Flag Republic I request that you hand them over for review. I am not sure if you currently hold citizenship in the Gull Flag Republic but our people are working with your embassy to find out about this."

He paused and smiled thinly.

"Finally, I would like to ask if you wish to request asylum. If this is the case we will take you in, individually, for a talk with one of our employees. Based on this conversation we will decide whether to accept, reject or defer such a request. You have the right to an attorney during these talks and you may be accompanied by volunteers from an international refugee organization. You will have your answer within six working days, and it may be accepted immediately, rejected immediately and returned to your country of origin, or you may be taken to a centre for asylum seekers pending a closer investigation by our Service. If your family remains in police custody for that period due to the charges brought against you then you shall remain in their hold instead while we process your request. Questions?"

Far above the international side of the line dividing international from Knootian waters, a tiny sky-blue speck flies a squiggly course in the midday sun. The Spitfire PR.19, its Griffon Engine throbbing, is, as far as the Parliamentary Robotic Air Force is concerned, only the best spyplane out there. Who cares about RCS when its bloody hard to see the thing in the first place?

The Knootians might think differently, but regardless it flies the line, taking photos of the dockyards inland, and in particular their Iansislean visitor. A Parliamentary Navy corvette, one of the stalwart Victor Juanqueros class, had been shadowing some tired old vessel for a couple days at least, with the intent to board it, but the corvette's stately and leisurely speed (ten knots cruise, twelve in a pinch) meant that it only got close enough recently. And by that time, they were both in the Knootian EEZ.

So while RNS Julius Nyere sits just outside the said EEZ, the lone Spitfire tries to make sense of the situation, diplomatic consequences be damned...

OCC: A bit abrupt, but something none the less...

IC:
’Aanmeldcentrum’ Rotterdam

"I am Joop Geraert of the Immigration and Naturalisation service. Welcome to Knootoss and I apologise for the wait. I have been informed that the adults amongst you are still under criminal investigation but…" his voice trailed, "in light of the special nature of your particular immigration it was felt that we needed to be especially expedient in processing you. I hope you can appreciate that. After we have processed you here you will be transferred back into police custody pending the investigation into smuggling activities. Any questions so far?"

Jessica looked as if she might have something to say in her new role as the spokesperson for the Iansislean royal family, but she held her tongue as Geraert started speaking again.

"Now, according to procedure I am obliged to ask for your identities, your nationality and your mode of travel here. If you posses passports of the Gull Flag Republic I request that you hand them over for review. I am not sure if you currently hold citizenship in the Gull Flag Republic but our people are working with your embassy to find out about this."

He paused and smiled thinly.

"Finally, I would like to ask if you wish to request asylum. If this is the case we will take you in, individually, for a talk with one of our employees. Based on this conversation we will decide whether to accept, reject or defer such a request. You have the right to an attorney during these talks and you may be accompanied by volunteers from an international refugee organization. You will have your answer within six working days, and it may be accepted immediately, rejected immediately and returned to your country of origin, or you may be taken to a centre for asylum seekers pending a closer investigation by our Service. If your family remains in police custody for that period due to the charges brought against you then you shall remain in their hold instead while we process your request. Questions?"

“‘Citizenship’! It is a word of a Godless republic,” said Jessica, almost spitting in her fury.

“Jessie...” started Anna, clutching Ian a little tighter to her breast.

“Not now. Listen, Mister Geraert,” Jessica continued, putting a special notice on the fact that Geraert held no noble title, “you obviously have no idea who we are, and I have not traveled half-way around the world to be prattled at by a prole dressed up in official clothes. I want you to listen once and listen carefully, Mister Geraert. I am the sister of His Imperial Majesty James, the High King of the Grand Empire of the Shield. You will hereafter address me as ‘Your Highness.’ And as for these ridiculous charges! - we shall see how Knootoss’ reputation as a sanctuary for political asylum-seekers fares our incarceration.”

Jessica seemed to have ranted herself out and merely stood before Geraert, breathing deeply through her nostrils.

------

Even from inside his office, Christopher Leonard Dalen could hear the telephones ringing off their hooks. IanCorp, the Foreign Office, the Admiralty, even Jameston Place -- everyone wanted the ‘official scoop’ from the man on the spot. To top it off, Dalen wasn’t sure how much longer his secretary could convince Evans-Billingsworth that the ambassador was ‘out to dinner.’ Meanwhile, Dalen was on the phone with everyone whom he could dial in the Knootian government trying to avert the greatest foreign policy disaster in the Republic’s history since that idiot Rogerwood got them involved in the struggle between the corporate forces and Williams’ camp in Larkinia.

Dalen still did not quite understand why the Navy was so desperate to get their hands on the royal family. The best he could figure, it had something to do with wounded pride: the Baghalpur, since the nationalization of the East Gallaga Company following the Revolution, was part of the national Merchant Service, and thus technically a naval vessel. And it appeared that her current captain had conspired to usurp her previous one before diverting the cargo of opiates and royals to Knootoss -- mutiny.

The Navy did not suffer mutineers; along with piracy and slaving, it was one of the three offenses which were tried and sentenced entirely by a naval tribunal and could end in a death sentence. In fact, there had not been a convicted mutineer who had not been hanged in all the history of the Iansislean Navy. It was one of the arcane holdovers from the Grand Empire in a constitution cobbled together in haste and by committee which revolted Dalen. Anyone, even pirates and slavers, deserved a fair trail before a jury of their peers, and yet the military was still free to run its kangaroo-courts completely free from public interference.

He shook his head while he contemplated whether the back window or the fire escape would bring a better chance of avoiding Evans-Billingsworth on the way out.

A few hours later an elegant black aero-car slides gracefully to a halt in front of the Aanmeldcentrum. Emblazoned with the lion and sun crest of the United Star Empire, the 'car is capable of considerable speed of travel. But its driver respects the Knootian traffic laws as if it was just any other ground car, a gesture that has long since become habitual to those in the service of the Star Empire's mission to Knootoss.

A single Sardaukar swings the forward passenger door up and then proceeds briskly to the other side of the 'car. He opens the rear door facing the Aanmeldcentrum standing stiffly at a procedural attention. Two men calmly get out of the 'car. One is dressed in the three-piece suits common in the Star Empire. His shirt and tie are brilliant, deep, and vivid purple and silver chain hangs from his vest. His hair is a flax blond and his eyes are a strange green-grey. In appearance he looks to be in his later twenties, or early thirties, although with the Valinor such distinctions of age are virtually impossible until a true "old" sits in. Herr Morya moves with a professional intensity, followed by the Sardaukar and his other companion.

The woman who exited the care is relatively non-descript. Her long, black hair is pulled back in a knot behind her head and she wears a black uniform of military cut. The uniform bears no rank or insignia other than a smal V-like emblem on each side of the collar. In terms of cut the uniform looks like a combination between that of Reichswehr grey trimmed in black and the simple black of the ESS. It has a distinct para-military feel to it.

The trio climb the stairs leading up to the Aanmeldcentrum's main entrance. There the Sardaukar once again holds the door open for his superiors before following them in. Herr Morya approaches the main desk and starts to pull out his credentials.

"Good afternoon, I am Herr Alfred Morya of the Foreign Service of the United star Empire of Valinon. Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty's Government believe that the Harbor Police recently detained several individuals seeking amnesty from our government. Lord Reinstadler has sent me to provide legal consul for them at this time. Would it be at all possible for me to speak with them? Of course I do understand if it is necessary for their to be an observer present."

((while we're waiting for Knoot, I might as well throw the next log on the fire =P))

Meanwhile, Back on the Shield

Radio sets across Iansisle crackled suddenly with static at seven o’clock in the evening, Shieldian standard, interrupting even Real Adventures of the First Lancers, still IanCorp’s most popular serial. “Please stand by for an important announcement from the Government,” said a nondescript voice. “Repeat, please stand by for an important announcement from the Government live from Jameston Place.”

Even in northern Gadsan, where conquering Iansislean troops sat across no man’s land from the Effitians, with whom a cease-fire was but a week old, life stopped for a few seconds. A few seconds of dead air followed, then at last the announcement:

“Gracious Assemblymen, his honor the Premier of the National Assembly, Mr Charles Bradsworth!”

“Thank you, Mr Speaker,” came Bradsworth’s voice. He sounded very much under the weather, and not even a clearing of the throat could fix his voice. “Gracious Assemblymen, and those ladies and gentlemen who are joining us by radio-wave across the nation, it is my solemn duty to inform you that your votes have been tabulated.

“By an overwhelming seventy-seven per cent majority, the great Iansislean people have seen fit to sentence Citizen James Callahan, who would style himself ‘High King of the Shield’, to death.”

Here Bradsworth’s speech paused as thunderous applause erupted in the Assembly room. After the noise at last died away, Bradsworth continued.

“Citizen Callahan will be executed on the gallows in Gull Flag Square at dawn tomorrow. It is the will of the Assembly and the will of the nation.

“But this decision is not my will. I believe that the Republic should be founded on reason and on liberty, both for those who support it and those who oppose our grand enterprise. I have always and shall always love Iansisle and those people who so wholeheartedly supported me even in the dark days of the Revolution. This election, however, must be taken as a conclusive and an indisputable vote of no-confidence in my government and my premiership. Therefore, go always with my love, but I must tender my resignation as the Premier of the National Assembly.

“Thank you, Iansisle, and good-bye. God save the Republic!”

There followed a few seconds of silence before the Assembly again erupted into noise. However, from the crackling of the microphone, it was quite obvious to listeners that Bradsworth had stepped down from the podium and was more than likely on his way out of the chamber.

OOC:

Uhh... tag? :)

I'd be interested to throw in a little intrigue from some conspirator who is planning to hatch a rebellion in Magnus Valerius... (I've got such an RP in the works), bring a distant member of the House Borivich into play, or maybe just throw in a bumbling Valerian citizen or official to make a mess of things. Hehe... well, I will RP along if you'll let me.

“By an overwhelming seventy-seven per cent majority, the great Iansislean people have seen fit to sentence Citizen James Callahan, who would style himself ‘High King of the Shield’, to death.”

((*cocking eyebrow* "Hmmm, it looks like the time has come" Of course this would happen the last few weeks of the semester. ;) ))

"...I don't bloody well care what you do, Leftenant, just don't do nothing!"

"But Admiral, sah, the Knootians..."

"But what?! Go try and arrest them or something! It doesn't have to work, even, but don't do nothing!"

"Eh, understood, sah. Out."

Sitting just outside the Knootian EEZ, ERNS Julius Nyrere prepares to make a diplomatic scene, for no apparent reason. It could be that Kingston wants to show support for its Iansislean allies, or that it is deemed prudent for Equatorial Robotstan to demonstrate something in the way of assertiveness in the region, but most likely there isn't any reason behind it. So, after talking the situation over with Naval Force Command in Dili, the small antisumbarine sloop sails towards land, specifically the port of Rotterdam. It isn't much to look at, somewhat surprising given the ship's name, and might be mistaken for a trawler if not for the 4.5in gun crudely mated to the foredeck. Like all Robotstani Navy Shark class corvettes, it isn't a greatly stable vessel, and as many gun smugglers have learned it is near impossible to hit anything with the main gun in heavy seas, so as it putters towards Knootoos, a Parliamentary arrest warrant for "Recently Arrived Members of the House Callahan" aboard, it doesn't cut a very imposing figure.

"Attention Knootian Port Authority, this is Equatorial Robotstani Navy Ship Julius Nyrere. We request permission to put-in at Rotterdam, over."

((ooc: Well, it's been about a month since the last Knootie post. Is he on an NS break, or did I scare him off? >.> ))