NationStates Jolt Archive

In the vast expanse of the multiverse, states both internationally active and peaceful are increasingly difficult to come by. For the people of the Socialist Republic of Xanthal, a populous nation occupying three star systems in a small but busy sector of the Milky Way, there is little reverie to match the annual celebration of the nation's democratic elections; the inauguration of a new set of incoming Councilors and, on some occasions, a new Triumvir. An event attended by virtually the entire Xanthalian national government and open to the public, it is broadcast across the country to a people invariably eager to hear the introductory words of their new leaders, and enjoys viewership in excess of 90% of the Xanthalian population on Inauguration Day, which is a national holiday. It is rare for foreigners to be included in these events, rarer still for them to speak there. However, on just another day, carried by just another courier vessel stopping by the once-again war-embroiled Humankind Empire, a message is dispatched to the office of his Imperial Highness Abriel Nei Dobrusk Dubeusec.

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Text message
Via KKPZ-816
Open, Unclassified, Unencoded
Origin: The Xanthalian Triumvirate, Mirfak III, Socialist Republic of Xanthal
Destination: Emperor Abriel Nei Dobrusk Dubeusec, Lakfakalae, Humankind Empire Abh

The Socialist Republic of Xanthal humbly requests the presence of an Imperial representative at the inaugural address ceremony of the Socialist Republic at Government Square, Jin Rin city, Jin Rin province, planet Mirfak III in orbit of the Mirfak star at 20:00, February 26, 2998 Earth Standard Time. The representative should arrive at Jin Rin International Spaceport at 1:00, February 26, 2998. The representative should be prepared to deliver a public speech on the commencement of Abh-Xanthalian relations before a live audience of approximately 1,000,000 and a broadcast audience of approximately 4,500,000,000. The content should be serious, patriotic, and respectful to both the Empire and the Republic. The speech should also be appropriate in its context of a celebration of Xanthalian democracy and socialism. We are confident that you are capable of providing a representative and oratory within the set boundaries, and encourage you to send an official of high importance with the minimum possible level of security personnel and armament. Highest thanks and best wishes for the longevity and productivity of relations between our nations and peoples.

Triumvirate of the Socialist Republic of Xanthal

The message was received by the Emperor quite promptly. Quick thinking on the part of Xanthal by sending a text message made it easy for the Abh to reply in kind with the lock down and all. The message had gone out to the public that the Abh would still retain its ties to all allies and this was no exception.

The Prime Minister had quickly arrived in the Throne Room to appear before the Emperor. "Your Highness, I have heard the news. If you are going, may I recommend you take a fleet for protection."

The Abriel on the high dias nodded. His voice was calm and soothing. Something unique for an Abriel. "If I was to depart I would agree with you, however the nation of Xanthal is not like many other nations. I have studied previous encounters with them and they do not take to armed processions such as us and others. I will not give the order but I will ask it. Will you go to take my place in this diplomatic mission?"

Teal bowed to one knee. "Of course your highness. I will leave right away."
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Samson had been working on the engines of the new sleek presidential diplomatic class transports for the Abh Empire. They were capable of both Plane and Hyperspace travel. His knowledge of drive systems had increased over the years but unfortunatly he has still not gotten back to his farm.

He had just finished putting on the final armor platting. "So Pervuryua, do you know why we got dumped with this last minute job?"

The bald man nodded. "It has something to do with a diplomatic mission to the nation of Xanthal."

"What?! Really?"

"That's what the announcements have all been saying. There is to be a large celebration and the Emperor is supposed to make an announcement."

"The Emperor?" Samson looked doubtful. "Not during a time of war."

"I don't but anyways it doesn't start for a while so I'm sure who gets sent will be decided before then. All I know is that we are supposed to get this ship ready to roll off dry docks."

Samson's work was finished about an hour later and he was heading off to pull a few strings. It had to deal with knowing a certain royal family and making a request to contact a certain Xanthal citizen requesting that her pressence be at the ceremony when the Abh ambassador arrived.
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Keirn've was already in his Star Forces uniform and standing outside a shuttle to take him to his ship. Keirn've had his clyuno up close to his mouth. The jewel was flashing in sequence with his voice. The signal was finally dispatched to a waiting clyuno wherever Sabriel had it stored.

Obviously no one there, the man sighed. "Hello Sabriel. This is Keirn've, a voice from the past. As you may already know, someone from the Abh Empire is going to be attending your celebration and make a speech. I was hoping that you would attend so I could have something delivered to you. It's nothing large but I thought it might be nice. I'll send instructions with it so you know how to work it. Well...farewell."

He let his wrist fall and went off to deposit his gifts to the Prime Minister so it could all be delivered.
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Text Message
Open channel
Origin:Emperor Abriel Nei Dobrusk Dubeusec, Lakfakalae, Humankind Empire Abh
Destination:The Xanthalian Triumvirate, Mirfak III, Socialist Republic of Xanthal

I regret to inform you that I personally will not be attending your momentous occasion. However, I will be sending my Prime Minister Teal Sune in my stead. He is quite qualified to give a speech to a large audience. He will be arriving in a diplomatic transport, unarmed with no guards. The transport should arrive as scheduled at 1:00, February 26, 2998. I look forward to hearing of this ceremony.

With regards~
31st Emperor of the Jade Throne: Dubeusec

Doräŧe recieves Samson's message four days later in the Asha System. She is surprised to hear from him, and actually has to think a moment upon seeing the sender's name who he is. She's pleased and flattered that he wants to see her again, and feels a bit guilty that she hasn't seriously thought about the foreigner since he left. Still, with the Bomowas scheduled to attend the inaugural ceremonies there's really no reason not to grant Samson's request. KLZ-1 will be in port by the ninty-eighth, giving her plenty of time even with her duties as resident foreign technology expert on the patchwork ship. It is still several weeks until then though. Plans can wait. After a full day of work on the bridge (oh, how she hates working on the bridge), sleep is much more urgently needed.

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Many things have changed in the decade since Săbreĕl last saw Keirn've, but not her style. They'd tried to move her to a Lĕsö twice, but she could never leave the Hokäl. Strike hard and fast, don't let the enemy get near you. It's a philosophy that could easily have put her in an assault fleet, but even though she is an abh, time has left her with a desire to stay closer to home. Aboard KLZ-1922, Bomowäs Dobröscr retires to her room, a private room. It still feels strange, even though she's been in command of the Seventh Fleet for over a month. In the dim light, the glowing orb of the clyuno is clearly visible. Her face lights up at the sight, and she quickly strides over to it and, with a bit of trial and error, plays the message.

"Hello Sabriel. This is Keirn've, a voice from the past. As you may already know, someone from the Abh Empire is going to be attending your celebration and make a speech. I was hoping that you would attend so I could have something delivered to you. It's nothing large but I thought it might be nice. I'll send instructions with it so you know how to work it. Well...farewell."

Celebration? She mutters the word in Abh. That was Keirn've; careless. The man could send a request for attendance and forget to mention what she was supposed to be attending. She smiles and shakes her head, then presses her palm onto the gem and speaks his name. It's been a while since she's spoken Abh, and her inflection is a bit rusty. Still, she speaks like she would to a friend, abandoning formality, letting a touch of humor enter her speech in her happiness. "Keirn've; what are you referring to? Celebration? Use some common sense, old man. I'm no mind-reader. You must be going senile. What celebration?"

Keirn've's jewel began flickering with a voice he had not heard in a long time. He had been going through last minute checks on his Whitestar and getting the crew situated when he heard her voice. Unlike Sabriel, Keirn've had become a man of some importance thanks to the late push by Dusanyu. He was now in the thick of everything eventhough the man didn't really desire such attention. He was grateful for the compliments that were given to him but the AIA bereau wasn't always considerate of someone's personal life. He cringed when he had forgotten to mention what celebration and when it was. "Keirn've you doku," which was "fool" in Abh.

He brought the clyuno up to speak. "My apologies Sabriel. I was referring to the inaugural ceremony that was taking place about a month from now. I've learned that the Emperor unfortunatly will not be able to attend due to extrenuous circumstances but the Prime Minister himself will be attending. I have entrusted a few items in his care to be delivered to you. He knows who you are so just introduce yourself if you see him. If circumstances prove that this is impossible, he will hand the items off to one that is capable of getting it to you.

Anyways I'm blabbering and keeping you from something important. The celebration takes place in Jin Rin city, Jin Rin province on planet Mirfak III."

Săbreĕl shakes her head. "Keirn've, I wouldn't be talking to you right now if I had something better to do." She switches to a more contemplative tone as she sits on the edge of her bed. "So, the Empire is getting a time slot at the national inaugural ceremonies, huh? The Alphin must really be serious about this relationship. I'm sorry though, I can't go. I'm not an inconsequential pilot anymore. I command the Trasnian System Defense Fleet as an admiral now, and we're on constant patrol with the war going on. The Alphin is more than a little worried that the Republic could be a target for the GE."

Keirn've grinned. "That's probably the best news I've heard in a long time Sabriel though I am a little disappointed that you won't be there. I'll have to send additional instructions with the Prime Minister to hand the cargo off to someone that can deliver it to you."

Keirn've turned away from his clyuno for a moment. A faint conversation could be heard:

Hey! This is going to be a quick mission, we don't need all those supplies. We are taking a look at a system, not invading it. Our purpose is first contact after a long silence.

Sorry- The sound of hushing could be heard and then Keirn've was back to the Clyuno. "My apologies Sabriel, just taking care of a few last minute things. Will there be anyone there be anyone there that you know so I can have this stuff dropped off to them and they can in turn pass it off to you?"

"Er..." She considers this. "I could probably get a special courier. Is there some reason that it can't just be put in the mail? You and I both know that there's no way in the Universe the receptionists would try to charge the Imperial Prime Minister for postage."

He smiles though she can't see it. "I suppose that would work. I imagine it would also get there before the Prime Minister ever does."

There's a bit of a long silence.

"Hey Sabriel...take care of yourself out there. I know you are more than capable of doing so but just be careful."

She nods, a faint smile on her lips, a unique mix of good humor and deadly seriousness in her voice. "The Republic isn't as proficient at getting into trouble as the Empire is. You still owe me a visit on Răknăm. If you don't show up you're a coward. Death is no excuse."

He couldn't help but laugh at that one. "You speak truly on all accounts. I'll make you a deal. Inform me when you have leave and I'll make arrangements to come out and see your home. Trust me, I don't plan on dieing for at least another 200 years. Do we have a deal?"

"Quite, provided I can get this strange orb you call a communicator to work. Real-time speech over interstellar distances.... I don't doubt that Xanthalian research and development would love a chance to study this contraption. You took quite a risk giving it to me." She pauses. "Thank you, my friend. Goodbye, until next time." She gently deactivates the clyuno and hangs it up on the wall, just as it had been when she entered the room.

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Jin Rin International Spaceport : Diplomatic Reception Area --- approximately four weeks later

The terminal, frequently used for diplomatic arrivals, is comparitively tiny alongside the hundreds of square kilometers taken up by the landing areas, parking lots, and public and private terminals that make up the paved urban sprawl of the Jin Rin International Spaceport; the largest planetary starship terminal in the Republic, serving the entire area of Mirfak's Nibel continent and placed just a few kilometers from Jin Rin City, the Xanthalian capital, which houses a population of nearly ten million, spanning outward from the Government Square at its heart, the seat of power for all three branches of the national government.

Outside the spaceport's Diplomatic Reception Area is a set of perhaps a dozen landing pads, one large enough to land a frigate if need be, the rest designed with small shuttles in mind. Inside the terminal, a stately human in diplomatic attire is flanked by two xanthalian police officers armed with pistol-sized beam weapons, of which both carry one at their waist in an indiscreet holster. Though one unfamiliar with the Socialist Republic would never know it, these humble pistols are excessive armament for normal law enforcement agents, who generally carry reversed-blade katanas as their sole weapon. However, these officers are to be entrusted with the safety of a Xanthalian diplomatic representative and an important foreign leader. In the barely-organized chaos that engulfs Jin Rin every year at the time of the inaugural ceremonies, extra precautions are taken across the board, especially since the wave of terrorist attacks four years earlier.

It is 0:50 on February 26, 2998 by Earth Standard Time. The Prime Minister of the Humankind Empire Abh is reported inbound by system traffic control, escorted by two light Labule attack craft, scheduled to arrive in ten minutes' time; right on schedule. It promises to be an exciting day.

Prime Minister Teal waited patiently in his quarters as the royal class transport glided through Plane Space. His chair rolled back as he stretched. Writing speeches wasn't exactly his most enjoyable pass-time but it was a necessary evil.

He stood gingerly and twisted to stretch his back after being hunched over at the computer for most of the flight. "I wonder if these people prefer the long winded speech. I sure hope not."

There came a slight knock at the door.

"Enter."

A young Abriel of the Cluyve royal family entered the room. His had become long so that it reached down below his ears. "Ah Admiral Abriel, what can I do for you?"

Dashnu hooked his cape around so that the door could close and not trap it. "I have come to inform you that we will be exited the Xanthal Sord in a few minutes. Prepare your things and gather up Samson and please come to the bridge."

Teal nodded. "I will and thank you Admiral."

Admiral Dashnu bowed and left the room to the Prime Minister's bidding. The speech was quickly downloaded to his clyuno so that he would have it when it was needed. He was out the door and heading down the hallway to a few doors down on the left. Teal pushed the pad on the wall and the door whooshed open. Samson was there leaning over a duffel bag putting one last item in and then synching the top.

"Ready to go Samson?"

"Just finished packing Mr. Prime Minister."

"We only have a few minutes until we enter Xanthal normal space. Come along now." The two men left the room and made their way to an elevator that would bring them to the command station.

Admiral Abriel turned in his seat. "Gentlemen you're just in time. We are about to pass through the Sord." The outter hull appeared to liquidize and become translucent. Bright blue hues of what is Plane Space passed by the ship.

Off to their right, the Senior Aviator was counting down to when the ship would pass through the Sord. The woman's voice rose as it drew shorter. "Passing through the Sord in 10. . . .9. . . . .8. . . . .7. . . . .6. . . . .5. . . . .4. . . . .3. . . . .2. . . . . .1. . . .passing through Xanthal Gate...."

1:00 February 26, 2998 Abh Royal Transport passes through Space Time Gate

"Communications, send a text message to the space port and inform them that we will send a shuttle to dock in the space port. Our ship will remain in orbit unless they have docks large enough for an 800 meter ship."

The woman began lighting up the glass screen as she put the message through.

The automated traffic system gives the ship its flight path to the third planet, assigns it an orbit, and lays out a flightpath for the shuttle down to the surface; complete with an assigned speed and timed checkpoints. It is a no-nonsense set of instructions which convey the importance of adherance through their specificity. While most nations simply monitor traffic that is allowed to move freely in authorized areas of space, Xanthal keeps traffic in lanes. This setup gives authorities much better control over vehicles in the system, but it places responsibility for safety much more on the coordination of the control AI than in the hands of actual pilots, who can do little more than react to emergencies. This is rightfully upsetting to many who pilot in Xanthalian space, but the method shows no signs of changing. Today there are no major problems. Aside from a few ships pulled out of the lanes for inspection or due to technical problems, all is proceeding normally.

All instructions are followed to the letter considering that this flight system is similar to that of Lakfakalae. The only places that are allowed free reign are the outter rim territories. It wasn't long before the transport had settled into orbit around the third planet. The hangar door slides open under the large ship and the calicke drops out carrying its two guests, Samson and the Prime Minister.

The young pilot trainee resists the urge to play around a bit but maintains her course as she passes through the checkpoints. She continues to make her way through space to whatever destination they have setup to drop her passengers off.

The shuttle makes its landing successfully on a pad near the terminal, an enclosed space with a forcefield roof, well-lit and painted in a welcoming peach. It is very fancy compared to the paved fields that make up most of the landing space at JRKB, but that is perhaps to be expected due to the special nature of the terminal. With the shuttle's engines turned off, the human and xanthalians make their way through the metal tunnel to the proper landing area and enter through a heavy metal door. From there, they walk inside and stand waiting inside the large enclosure, waiting for their guests to emerge.

The ramp to the back of the calicke slowly slid down. The Prime Minister slowly descended the walk with his head held high. Teal wore grey pants that flared off to the side with a white over coat and olive green undershirt that matched the emeralds that hung at the end of his twin winged golden tiarra.

Behind Teal was Samson wearing a simple outfit of black dress pants, dark blue shirt and silver tie to match. His hair was actually combed for once and he had his duffel bag slung over his right shoulder.

Teal and Samson both curtly bowed to those that were waiting for them.

The human, a graceful man about thirty standard years of age, returns the bow, as do the xanthalian escorts, both females. He addresses the dignitary in Galactic Standard. "Welcome to the Socialist Republic, Mister Prime Minister. Is there anything you need before we begin?"

Both Samson and Teal rose from their bow. "Thank you for the warm welcome. There is nothing I need at the moment, only perhaps a quick tour of the facilities so that I may become familiar with my surroundings."

The Xanthalian diplomat straightens. "Of course. My name is Zanza Upton; I will be your guide. The officers with me," he gestures to them and they nod in turn, "are here to see to your safety while on the planet. You have landed at the Jin Rin International Spaceport Diplomatic Reception Terminal. We will be leaving here directly to Xanthalian Government Square, where you will be briefed on the order of events of the ceremony. If you are ready, we will proceed now."

"This here is Samson Bulge Attoluse. He will be attending the ceremony as well but is here on personal matters also. He struck a friendship with one of your citizens when our nations made contact for the first time and has come pay a visit. My apologies if this is not acceptable. He can return to the ship if need be. Other than that, we may proceed."

"Then please, come with me." Zanza makes no specific mention of Samson, equally happy with the underling's presence or absence. He turns and proceeds down the hallway.

Samson shrugs to himself and falls in line with the Prime Minister. They both follow their guide as they proceed down the hallway.

The party, followed closely by the police officers, emerges into the terminal and heads for the exit, a pair of thick clear-metal doors beyond which is a narrow road and a landing pad, upon which is parked a small länjeä type shuttle. As they exit, an irritated voice can be heard from the left. There, on a comfortable bench under the extended awning of the terminal, is Doräŧe Sĭŧrăn, wearing the uniform of a Labule Senmon, the same woman of ten years earlier save for a few subtle signs of aging. "There are." She gives a passing glare at Upton, then addresses Teal. "Prim Minstr, I need shood stop you minoot. Samsan, I is sarry I naht meet you, Zanza no let me in room. You hav somthig for me?" She obviously hasn't gotten any better at speaking Standard since Samson saw her last. In fact, her command of the language seems to have deteriorated slightly.

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===Länjeä===
The Länjeä personnel shuttle is a very small vessel designed to carry up to twenty passengers in relative comfort within a solar system. It has no space-time bubble generator, but its powerful ion engines provide quick short-range transportation between planets, stations, and ships. Länjeäe are usually stationed aboard space stations and at planetary facilities.
http://url.photobucket.com/albums/v88/Zorak950/NS/Space/Longia.jpg
*Class commission date: 228-3-41.
*Dimensions: 10x6x3 meters.
*Decks: 1.
*Cost: $100,000.
*Powerplant: 1 substance/antisubstance reaction chamber (10 gigawatt maximum output).
*Ion engines: maximum speed 65,000 km/s.
*Maneuverability rating: 3.
*Fuel capacity: 100 liters.
*Fuel range: about 1 day normal operation.
*Complement: 2 crew, up to 20 passengers.
*No weapons.
*No shields.
*Armor rating: 1.
*Takeoff/Landing capable with adequate landing pad.

Samson smiled at the woman. He turned to the Prime Minister. "Why don't you go ahead and I'll catch up in a moment."

The Prime Minister turned to regard the woman. "Will you take care of him, miss?"

"Yis, sarry." She goes to Samson as the rest of the procession makes its way to the shuttle. "Been lahng time, Samsan. Glad for see you."

Samson set his duffle bag down. "Indeed it has been."

He unsynched the top and began rooting around for Dorathy's gifts that had fallen from the top. "Now where did it . . . ah, there it is."

He pulled out a violet handkerchief made of fine silk. "I thought you might like this. Who knows when you might have another problem with the ship and need to borrow someone's handkerchief."

He looked at her with a grin and then went back to his duffle bag. "I have never known a woman that didn't like flowers. It's only a matter of what kind so I figured I'd go with the safest one."

He stood up again, this time with something wrapped in a piece of cloth. He undid the folds and there rested a crystallized red rose in all its glory in his palm. "I know that flowers tend to wilt over time so I thought this one might last a little longer."

He presented both gifts to her.

She doesn't understand everything he said, but the sentiment is obvious. Dorathy smiles, admiring the flower. "Is..." she struggles to find the correct word, settling on "good, Samsan. Thank you." She wraps it in the cloth and holds it in her left hand as she bows gracefully. She seems a bit less socially awkward now than she was ten years ago. She doesn't blush at all accepting the gift and seems to take the whole thing in good humor. "Better go quick or they leave you," she says. "You no want miss big ent."

Samson smiled. "I don't think they can get rid of me that easily. Besides, I know where the ship is and I have the badge from Star Forces so hopefully that will get me past security guarding the ship."

He looked around. "Are you busy? Do you have time to show me around?"

"Show what? This is no my place. I no good remember things place." She prods him towards the shuttle with her right index finger. "You go now. I watch you on picture trasmit, yes. Goo'bye Samsan."

Samson turned around to face her fully after following her finger. "I wish you would come with me Dorathy. Perhaps I may see you again?"

"I no..." She sighs, frustrated at her own bumbling. "What is word? No other say was good for me to go." She rolls her eyes. "Just go, Samsan. I no think chance to see you more is good if you no try. You me are far part allway." She turns and begins walking down the road. "Thas elivali, Samsan. Zolka watal to vala total cilal."

Samson watches her leave, a bit disappointed. I suppose she is right. We are from two different nations and live on opposite corners of the galaxy. With a final sigh and heave of his duffle bage, he hurries off to catch up to the Prime Minister.

As they begin their flight towards the city's center, the passengers can't help but notice that the streets are eerily clear; with only a few cars in sight. In fact, the city's heavy pedestrian traffic can often be seen using the roads as well as the sidewalks, periodically clearing the way for an automobile. The Xanthalians remain quiet within the comfortable interior of the shuttle, keeping a vigilant eye on their Imperial guests.

The empty streets were not lost on the two guests. It was so unusual that it prompted a question from the Prime Minister. Samson was thinking the same thing but he realized that he might not receive an answer.

Teal looked away from the window to the Xanthalians. "Why are the streets clear? I'd imagined that a city this size would have life down there moving around freely."

Ambassador Upton looks out the window, down at the street. "It is mostly pedestrians now. Since the underground metropolitan public transportation rail was restored to service three years ago our government has forbidden the general use of privately-owned motorized vehicles. Prior to that, Jin Rin was subject to frequent gridlock and a chronic lack of parking space in the downtown area. The new arrangement is much more efficient; the average daily intra-city commute by subway today takes one fourth the time of the average commute by bus or car four years ago. It has been a welcome transition, and lowered traffic death rates enormously besides. Of course, there was a great deal of trouble at first with automobile manufacturers and owners, but the short-term loss has been more than compensated for by the long-term benefits." He nods, as if to confirm his approval of the whole affair, then returns to his previous posture.

The Prime Minister shrugged noncomittingly. Each planet was allowed to govern themselves as they chose in the Empire and he couldn't really ever seeing an Abh drive a car. Certainly there was no such thing in Lakfakalae. It was an orbiting city after all.

"Interesting," was all he could really think of to say.

The shuttle arrives very quickly at the city's center, and makes a smooth landing on the roof of the ultramodern high-rise skyscraper that is the headquarters of the Xanthalian executive branch. Far below in the square, framed by the Council and High Court buildings, is the Government Square, a huge plaza dotted with small planting areas in a huge paved area spanning several city blocks in each direction. At the center of the square are a grouping of statues, though the details cannot be made out from their current angle and height. In front of these is a large stage, and entire half of the square before the stage is packed with a mass of people so tightly squeezed into the space that from the roof of the Alphinic building it seems but a sea of flesh and clothing.

As Samson, Teal, Zanza, and the two KGB officers exit the shuttle into the windy air of their high altitude, four snipers in military dress keep careful watch on the scene below through the scopes of their high-powered energy rifles. Though Xanthal is a peaceful country, this event bringing all the nation's six hundred twelve leaders, executive, judicial, and legislative, together in the open is carefully guarded against opportunitistic attacks. In the brief time it takes them to walk from the shuttle through the roof access door and into the building, several armed KGB patrol craft may be noted in the sky above and below their height by the attentive observer.

The Xanthalian ambassador places his hand on a panel next to a heavy metal door, which promptly swings open. The group enters a small, bare entry room, with what appears to be an elevator ahead and a stairwell to the side. The outside door shuts firmly behind them with a loud clang, and the ambassador keys a code into the panel by the elevator doors, careful to put his body between the controls and the Imperials, hiding the number he enters. Then he folds his hands behind himself, turns to look upon the visitors, and waits patiently for the elevator. Near the outer door behind them, the two police women retain the almost painfully formal silent pose they have held for the entire trip, cold and distant; appearing concerned only with their duty to protect the ambassador and the guests of the Republic.

The two guests from the Empire do not even attempt to peer at the code for the elevator. Teal is busy going over the speech in his head while Samson gets over the uneasy feeling of being watched.

The Prime Minister glanced from one police woman to the next and couldn't help but muse how Abrielisc they appeared. Trying to show no emotions at all. Deciding to break the ice a bit, Teal leaned back on his heels abit and crossed his arms. "It looks like there will be a nice crowd for the ceremony."

Representative Upton looks doubtful. "This event draws hundreds of thousands of people into one place. It is a severe strain on Jin Rin's infrastructure. Appreciative as I am of the importance of the ceremony to our people, it would be much more practical for everyone to simply watch the broadcasts." The double doors open into a small car, and the group boards the elevator, beginning to decend. Zanza adopts a businesslike tone. "Is there anything you need before we go outside Sir? This will be the last opportunity you have to take care of personal matters for several hours."

Teal shook his head. "No I'm fine. Thank you. All personal matters were taken care of prior to all this. The ceremony is what I wish to focus on at this time."

The ambassador nods. "Very well." The elevator arrives in a busy, well-furnished, spacious lobby. Ahead of them a set of clear doors look out into the square and a mass of people kept at to one side of the area by temporary fencing lined with police armed with energy rifles. Zanza takes the Imperials to a sitting area by the door, then bows. "Excuse me for a moment." He walks to a door labelled with indecipherable Mirfakan text, but the symbol above the writing is universally recognizable: it's a bathroom. He disappears inside.

Teal and Samson both take a seat while Samson gazes out the door. He smirked slightly then leaned back and closed his eyes. "It must be some life, that of a politician I mean. Always giving speeches and making appearances. It must be something completely different for the Abriel family."

Teal nodded with a smile. "I agree. I don't think I would ever want there job, nor Lord Rahl's for that matter. Did you hear? His family line is now the eighth royal family of the Empire and will now be the first land-dweller to ever rise to Emperor."

Samson let out a whistle. "That's another man that appears strange to me. I've never been to D'Hara but I hear it is just as strange."

A few minutes later Upton emerges from the restroom and leads his charges outside. The group is greeted by an onslaught of sound; a mix of voices, each raised over the others, combined into a colossal din of humanity. The square is large, almost park-like, cut by polished stone walkways and gardens. In its center is a towering metal statue of a human man. Around him are four more statues: another human man, two xanthalian women and a catgirl. Behind them is the towering high-rise that is the executive branch's headquarters, made of glass and steel. Opposite it is the five-story Xanthalian Council building, built with the stone pillars and nostalgic look that makes one think of Earth's ancient Rome. Off to their left, facing the open side of the square is the nation's high court; a building that defies description, a hybrid of the legislative and executive buildings. It stands ten stories tall reflecting the past and the present in a sort of pseudo-ancient mesh of glass, steel and stone that, while unique, is actually quite elegant and by far the most creative of the three structures. The square and its buildings take up a space roughly equivalent to nine city blocks, and create an impressive effect in this cradle of government at the center of the nation's largest city. The graceful archetecture of the square and the government buildings is somewhat ruined by the downtown high-rises that literally surrounds it, but care has been taken to maintain the urban frame well, allowing visitors to focus on the square itself.

In front of the grouping of statues at the area's center a huge graded semicircular stage has been set up. Upon it are a smattering of officials, most notably groupings of seats for the Council, Justices, and Triumvirs; each positioned corresponding to the government buildings in which they work, with the executives to the audience's left, the legislators opposite them, and the judiciary seated just behind the forward podium. In three rows against the rounded edge of the stage, out of the way, sit various native and foreign dignitaries invited by higher officials. Of the approximately eight hundred chairs onstage about half are filled, but it is still early. Perhaps ten meters from the front of the stage is the police line holding the crowd at bay. Beyond their short metal fence are the onlookers, hundreds of thousands of them, an impenetrable mass of people filling the entire outside half of the square and spilling out well into the streets beyond. Some hold large signs, presumably with political themes, though it's hard to tell if one doesn't know the language. Looking up the snipers Samson and Teal witnessed earlier are hidden from view, but the police patrol craft are visible, though they might as well not be there for all the attention the crowd pays them.

As the Prime Minister and Linewing Aviator ascend and step onto the raised platform, the Xanthalian ambassador leads them to a pair of seats in the forwardmost row of the peripheral chairs; front and center so to speak, though it is immediately apparent that this position of honor will nevertheless afford them only a view of the backs of the high court justices main speakers. These seats are, after all, to honor their occupants, not improve their view. It is at this point that they notice their silent escorts, the two xanthalian KGB officers, have vanished. In the chaos around them and the progression of their linear journey, their departure had gone unnoticed. Zanza takes a seat just behind the Imperial guests, and then the waiting begins, long and tedious, to the constant overpowering roar of a million voices.

Samson himself is engulfed at the multitudes of people. This is by far the most people he has ever seen in his life let alone in one place. He visibly gulped as he sat down, a bit unnerved by it all. He looked at the Prime Minister to see that Teal was sitting tall and erect with a calm and cool expression on his face. Jaw set firmly in place, his eyes were steeled forward.

How does he do it?

A considerable amount of time passes, perhaps an hour, and the number of vacant seats steadily decrease. Without warning, a hand is placed on the Prime Minister's shoulder from behind. There stands a tall, stately-looking xanthalian woman clad in black robes and a sort of inherant beauty tangible even to other humanoid species. Her head is turned backward, gazing upon the magnificently detailed statues that tower over the stage behind them, a different expression worn by each, but all stately, all dignified, all determined. All leaders. "Ezekiel Zabertini, the founder; Fina Strength, the conqueror; Simon Gebraldi, the scholar; Nightshade Carrin, the shepherd; Wazuka Isayama, the revisionist." Her tone is respectful, even reverent. She looks down at Teal with an expression of mixed joy, pride, and sadness that could melt the heart of an artificial intelligence. "Look upon these people, Imperial Prime Minister Teal Sune. Look well. Guided by generations of leaders like those whose likenesses watch over us with those marble eyes, they stand here today as one people, a million individuals who have realized themselves not only as individuals, but as a single community of billions."

Peering around her flowing dress, the ambassador's face is crossed with what can only be described as dismay. "Madame Lanalphin, perhaps if you were to introduce yourself to our guests..."

The woman turns her head and adjusts her eyes steadily to fix upon the young human, continuing in a calm and level tone, betraying nothing and leaving the listener hanging on every deliberately spoken word. "Vwai sumidal, Zanza. Wa posib vwai grelval, por ea esti gunanal."

Zanza looks horrified at the response. "Wa ea mastrai...!" A raised eyebrow from the Lanalphin is enough to silence him. He sits back, looking quite discomfited by the exchange.

The woman slips between the seats, moving to stand before the Prime Minister, and clasps his right hand in her own hands while she gives a deep, respectful bow. It is a unique method of greeting, one that feels comforting and intimate, yet somehow makes Teal feel subordinate, as if the woman were claiming a sort of natural authority over him. "Mister Prime Minister, it is an honor to meet you. I am Eiko Oishi, Second Triumvir of the Socialist Republic of Xanthal."

Teal rose from his chair to properly greet the woman. He returns the bow in kind though it probably didn't hold the same significance to the woman but it was merely meant out of respect. "Miss Eiko Oishi, it is an honor to meet you. This structure is impressive though calling it so doesn't do it justice. It is a masterpiece of artwork in of itself."

The Triumvir puts her hands at her sides, swaying side to side ever so slightly as she speaks, as if to a slow tune. "Your flattery is unnecessary. Symbolic though it may be, this stone is but stone, this metal is but processed ore, all shaped by the toil and will of a faceless many. People come and go, buildings and statues are torn down or overcome by forces of primal magnificence. It is the spirit that survives; the spirit of each person in this universe we all share." She touches Teal's chest lightly with her left index finger. "It is the passion you feel burning here when you know from the depths of your being that something is right or wrong, despite the irrelevance of such two-dimensional distinctions. That is what each one of us has in common. That is what we all must come to know, understand, and share with one another if we hope to be as one." She raises the left hand to touch his face ever so lightly, then smiles, still wavering from side to side in near-perfect rhythm. "For our people the best we have is the most we may offer, but it is the least they deserve. You are to speak, I am told, at the end of the proceedings. Please, be seated Imperial Prime Minister Teal Sune. Take rest in this harmonious cacophony, for soon you must offer your best to them."

At her mention of the sound from the audience it is almost as if a spell has been broken. The crescendo of voices floods back into the ears and only now does it dawn upon Teal that, even as words are shouted across mere inches just to be heard in this sea of noise, the Triumvir's voice, soft and wise, carried over several feet so clearly that it was as if the million others present had stopped their chatter all at once simply so that she might speak. In the brief time his mind must take making sense of the almost-magical trance in which he was held, the woman somehow drifts across the stage to her seat, nearly fifty meters away, and her face is lost from view.

As the enchantmen fades to nothing but a memory, Teal sits there a bit disgruntled as he would have liked to have argued the point about the structure a bit further. Instead, he found that he was sitting down and watching the peculiar woman until she drifted out of sight.

The roar of the crowd brought him back to his senses though. He went over a few more memory selections with his speech to make sure that it was well prepared when he would be called upon to speak.

"I apologize," Zanza calls into his ear. "The Lanalphin is... a unique personality." Before he can respond, his attention is drawn to the forward podium. A man clothed in a thick ceremonial red garment that resembles a long hoop skirt and sporting a heavy-looking metallic headdress is addressing the crowd, a face painted white with makeup visible when he turns his head momentarily towards those sitting behind him. He looks ridiculous by nearly any fashion standard, but he seems to command great respect judging by the quick decrease in volume and solemn faces from the crowd and those sitting on the stage, including eight more people sitting between him and the Prime Minister with identical garb. The man speaks in a deep, measured tone, drawling on for several minutes.

Teal waves his hand to dismiss the apology and show that no offense was taken and that there were no problems. The individual with the wihte painted face did appear rediculous, especially to Samson who averted his eyes to the ground to keep from grinning and cause major offense.

Both Imperials were wondering what position the man held and would wear a garb like that. He apparently carried some authority with him.

Zanza narrates the proceedings in a hushed tone as the man proceeds. "That is William Farfallo, chief justice of the Xanthalian high court. He is going through the welcome address now. In a moment we will sing the national anthem. You are asked to stand in respect when we do." As if on que, William finishes with a sweeping geture and steps down, joining the other eight justices. All on stage rise from their seats as a unit, each individual seeming to choose a flag to face independently from the many large Xanthalian standards that flutter in the wind on sturdy poles over the government square. At the sound of an extended first note from an ingeniously hidden sound system that fills the square with clear sound, the entire population snaps to attention.

There does not seem to be a single standard; most of the military officers salute, right fists firmly pressed to their chests, some place their hands over their hearts, some bow their heads, some simply stand rigidly, arms at their sides. Even the small scattering of non-humanoid sentients in the massive audience seem to shift position somehow. Each individual seems to select the pose they think most appropriate. Then the music begins, and with it an onslaught of voices; in various keys, with no real harmony, even some of those who cannot speak Mirfakan, either as a result of biology or due to lack of proficiency, chime in with hums or in their own native tongues. It is a shoddy, off-tone affair, but the power of the many voices from the stage and audience are a powerful statement nonetheless.

The Xanthalian National Anthem (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Xanthalian_National_Anthem)

Samson and Teal both stand tall and erect. They favor the typical Abh salute with the Prime Minister bringing two fingers up to where all wings of his tiarra meet while Samson brings two fingers up above his brow since he no longer wears a tiarra.

The duo hums along the best they can and pick up a few of the words as they go along. The noise was so loud that they did not reallty worry about being heard.

The anthem finishes with a fanfare of claps and cheers that continues for nearly five minutes. Finally the event proceeds, those with seats sit, and a parade of incoming legislators, dressed in their gold-trimmed white robes, begins; each introduced by the chief justice as they emerge from the Council building and walk across the square to the stage; each giving a speech, some only a few minutes in length, some approaching a half-hour; and each finally taking a seat with the rest of the Councilors. Zanza paraphrases for Samson and Teal as they go, though he doesn't really need to. This is so-and-so, from such-and-such province. I pledge to support the rights of whosits to do whatever, and will work for the good of blah, blah, blah...

Teal nodded through it all letting Zanza know that he was understanding what was going on. Basically the typical speal about politics and the good of everyone yady yady ya. Teal sat there waiting for when his time would come to give his speech.

Samson was struggling to stay awake and very much regretting this idea of coming to see Dorathy one last time. The more he thought about though, he realized it had still been a good idea.

The presentations drag on for literally hours, and the sun, at its zenith when the event began, has begun to sink low in the sky. Finally though, a sign of hope: the next speaker is to be the new Triumvir, Teinin Kisnash. He emerges from the Alphin building in black garb to the usual onset of cheers and applause, and ascends the steps. This is the man who narrowly beat out the vehemently xenophobic Charles Lawrence in the recent elections; a moderate and a godsend to the groups that watched the Republic's ties to the ESUS, TA, UN, and other nations and treaties disappear over the past three years. Teinin Kisnash is a mon calamari, a species composing just over one percent of the Xanthalian population. Red skin, squid-like features, and broad, bony limbs define him alongside the comparatively human xanthalians that fill the other two seats in the executive. He reaches the poduium, clears his throat, and begins to speak.

This was definantly something new for both visitors. A squid-like species had never been seen before in Samson's or Teal's case. Their shock might have been more apparent if the speaker had perhaps made an appearance first instead after the seemingly endless hours of one speech after another.

Still, it did help keep Samson awake and alert. Teal leaned over and mumbled into his ear something about making sure he doesn't stare.

Staring or not, all eyes are on the incoming Lanalphin as he makes his speech. Most of it is not a particularly gripping oratory, but it is more relevant at least to the foreigners due to his place on the Triumvirate. He gives his thanks to the people of the nation for their confidence in him, and notes that as an independent he will make an effort to bridge gaps between political parties rather than simply acting on his own accord. He acknowledges Omsai and Oishi, each who stands and bows deeply in turn at the associated applause, and then moves on to his policy intentions, familiar to most in Xanthal after the campaigning process, but new to Samson and the Prime Minister at least. The voice of the mon calamari is deep and somewhat strained, though the cause of the latter is unclear. Zanza relays a translation to the visitors.

“...As a nation, we must be cautious not to allow our way of life to suffer under foreign influence, but we similarly cannot neglect the maintenance of our ties to the rest of the galaxy. Nationalism is a policy that can be practiced without alienating outsiders, and it should not stand in the way of this government forming alliances, friendships, and treaties with other nations and states. Like most sentient beings, a state is a social entity. Isolated, it is beset by ignorance and weakness. We must have lasting relationships. We must be attentive to and active in foreign affairs. We must also be ready to fight for our own preservation when need demands. My aim is simple: I want our country to be seen as a force of peace and stability in the galaxy. I want to stand side by side with other leaders of reason in union; to defend them when they are threatened and to receive their aid in kind. ‘Give and you will receive’ has been a saying since ancient times, and I fervently believe its truth. We cannot expect, nor should we desire, that the universe will overlook us and leave us in peace. Xanthal is built upon the principle of collective strength; the effort of many in unison may accomplish the task one person could never hope to do alone. What we do not always remember is that the same principle applies on a larger scale. By bonding with other nations and other peoples we can face the inevitable perils of our fragile existence with combined strength and will that we might prolong our fortunes another day. For Xanthal, and for the individuals that work so hard to make it a reality, I accept the post of Lanalphin... and I thank you.”

Going by statewide election statistics less than one third of the audience selected Kisnash as their first choice in the primaries, and barely half chose him in the final election, but nearly all seem pleased with the speech as the square erupts in tremendous applause and cheers, with only a few dissenters; most of them touting signs that the visitors can only assume bear something other than a message of support for the new executive. When the fanfare dies down, the mon calamari continues. “Now, citizens and guests, please lend your ears, where applicable,” the quip is met with scattered laughter by the diverse crowd, “for a while longer. As most of you know, the Alphin has been engaged for quite some time in periodic talks with the independent Abh Empire. As I assume the duties of my predecessor, Charles Lawrence, I look forward to playing an active role in making the relationship between the Empire and the Republic flourish. That is why today I am pleased to announce the presence of Teal Sune, Prime Minister of the galactic Abh state.”

Zanza then gives Teal a light push from behind. “That’s our queue.” The new Triumvir turns and extends... well, what serves as his hand, to the human as he steps forward. Zanza rises as well and steps past them as they exchange a handshake, grabbing a pin-on microphone from a compartment in the podium and placing it on his chest. Teinin retreats to the right, going to join the other two Lanalphini. Zanza takes position at the right of the podium, and the reserved ovation of the audience dies down. Teal steps up to the microphone, facing the dozens of cameras and the countless faces of the crowd, all trained squarely upon him.

Samson sat there watching Teal take to the podium, hardly envying the man at his position this point in time. However the crowd, the cameras, and the fact that this speech will have consequences on the Empire; the man didn't seem phased a bit.

Teal strode up to the podium with confidence. Public addresses was his job as being the Prime Minister. Whatever the Emperor delegated, he announced and enforced it. The stage was not something to be feared for him, well not in this case at least.

"First I would like to thank you all for the honor in allowing me to speak here today. I would also like to congratulate Teinin Kisnash on his successful campaign and election. I believe the people have chosen wisely."

Now that he was done with the formalities, he got down to the meat of the speech.

"I have been fortunate enough to keep my position of Prime Minister through the reign of two emperors and have seen the making of several treaties between the Abh nation and others. None I might add, have more promise than the relationship that Abh have with Xanthal. It is my hope along with every member of my nation, that our relationship grows and the bonds become stronger with time.

Ever has it been the desire of the Empire to know peace in the universe and it has sought to bring it about. Though our methods were unconventional, our people have lived without fear for many years. It is through diplomacy that the Abh have reached across space to make peace with various races and nations. No greater accomplishment has there been when measured against the formation of relationships with this nation."

His voice began to rise both in tone and force as he moved to the climax of his speech.

"I speak to you now with the authority that his majesty, Emperor Dubeusec, has given me. Ever have the Abh held allies in the highest regard. It can never be said that we have abandoned them in their time of need nor have we ever refused them of any help that they ask of us. We stand ready to be ever at your side should you need us. Call when you will of us, ask what you will of us, our service, our ships, and our lives are yours. We will be the candle against the night should you ask it of us, to die alone without renown so that the citizens of Xanthal may be protected. All to treat you as one of our own people for there is no difference when the Abh call another nation friend."

Zanza looks dubiously at him as he reaches the end of his speech, but faithfully executes his task and translates the Prime Minister's words. When it is finished, the crowd, including the officials onstage, seems unsure of how to react to the speech. Some hesitantly applaud, some look thoughtful or respectful. Many appear confounded. Zanza looks nervous, but remains silent. The people do not take their eyes off of Teal, as if expecting something more from him.

Even Samson, along with the Emperor who was viewing it back at the palace, looks at Teal a bit surprised.

"May the friendship between our two great nations last until the final star finally twinkles and goes out. May nothing ever come between this relationship and may the stars shine brightly down on all of you. Thank you."

The audience applauds, though it seems more dutiful than anything else. However, after concluding remarks by the high court judge and a second rendition of the national anthem they seem as enthusiastic as ever. The officials file out and the crowd dissipates with surprising rapidity. The Prime Minister and Samson say their goodbyes to the three Triumvirs, then to Zanza. As the last tenuous glow of Mirfak disappears beneath the horizon, the Abh shuttle lifts off, beginning its journey back to the Imperial Capital.

Samson had been thinking over the proper response to Teal's speech but he could never quite settle on anything respective or diplomatic. Finally settling on the fact that Samson was neither respective or diplomatic he finally looked curious at him like Teal had lobsters comign out of his ears. "A bit eccentric don't you think?"

Teal shrugged. "The Abh can be eccentric at times don't you agree?"

"Well yes, but these people aren't Abh at least not all of them and even they are different than those of the Empire. Couldn't you have gone easy on them? I think you scared more than a few."

Teal smirked, "Samson, what speech do you think they will remember longer? Those of every last diplomat or mine?"

Samson scratched the right side of his cheek under his eye. "Well if it was me I probably wouldn't remember any of them but I suppose yours would be the last one they forget. I mean that's not something you easily forget."

"Indeed." Feeling that the conversation was settled, the Prime Minister leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes feeling that he had delivered a strong message to the people and government of Xanthal.

Somewhere in the Trasnia System, a courier ship breaks away from the flagship of the Seventh Fleet. In the privacy of her room, Bomowäs Zănŧäl Dobröscr Săbreĕl unseals a small, nondescript package and draws from it a sturdy datachip. Fingering it carefully, she inserts it into the disk port on her desk, rolling her chair back a few inches to distance herself from the bright screen. She waits patiently for the security program to run, then accesses its contents.

The screen flashes to reveal a small comfortably furnished room in the background while Keirn've has a small smile on his face in the foreground. He has a new scar on his face sine the last time Sabriel has seen him, one crossing his left eye but still functional.

"Hello Sabriel, it has been a long time, ten years I believe since you piloted the Sankakue. I don't know if you remember this or not..." Keirn've raises a metal rod with rounded top. "...but it was the joust you used in the arena when you fought me. I procured it the day you left so I could send you somewhat of a souvenir to comemorate your stay but it seems there are certain regulations about sending something like this across the galaxy. I would like to give it to you personally but I don't believe that will ever happen unless there is some miracle out there waiting. There is a little inscription here along the handle written in abh. It reads roughly translates into, 'Woman's Wrath.' It's yours, if I can ever find a way to get it to you."

There's a silent pause followed by a sigh. "I feel sorry for our new Emperor. He is honestly a peaceful man. I know you and Lord Dusanyu did not get along but someone that has spent so many years as Imperial Admiral and been in the middle of countless engagements, it's no small wonder why the Abriel side comes out so often. Emperor Dubeusec is a different man. He has children though he does still treat all subjects equally, he is already being plagued with war early in his reign. A war that he is being forced into whether the Abh want it or not. With such tensions across the galaxy, I have been enlisted by the Abh Intelligence Agency and have been promoted from pilot to Second Captain of the Head Hunter Squadron. Not possession I enjoy trust me. I'll be leaving for a few days on a mission given to me by both his Highness and the AIA. If all goes well, I should be back home within a few weeks. By the time you receive this, my mission will already be well underway."

Trying to end the conversation on a lighter note, he tries to bring a smile back to his face. "I congratulate you on your promotion Sabriel. It was a wise decision on their part, I'm sure, and I know you will serve with honor. Woe to anyone that comes against your ship should they choose Xanthal as a target. I would not want to be your enemy. Anyways..."

Muffled voices can be heard as Keirn've attention is distracted for a moment.

"I must be going now. Take care of yourself while you are out there. You probably think I'm being foolish but then, when is that ever a surprise. Well...I guess this is goodbye for now. Take care Sabriel."

His arm moves towards the bottom and the screen switches off.