NationStates Jolt Archive

...that happens to involve vital diplomatic talks and military wargames.









Major-General Gregory Neil was tired. He had said that a lot, and he had been tired many times over, but never as truly bone-tired as he was now. Every muscle in his body ached, he had tunnel vision, the backs of his eyes burned, and he could barely stand up. If he tried, he stumbled around like an aimless drunk.

At least he had a comfortable chair. It was remarkable. In most airports he'd been in in Haraki, there had been comfortable, new chairs, and uncomfortable old chairs. Inevitably the comfortable ones were all filled, even if he arrived many hours early, and he was forced to try and get comfortable in the awkward chair shapes that he was left with. Of course, any time he asked about it, read about it, or complained about it, he got the same response: the old ones were being 'phased out' for the new ones. Always the same words: phased out. In military terms, which was what he was used to, it meant there was a plan, and the plan was followed, involving slow and gradual, step-by-step replacement of the old with the new.

In airport terms, it seemed to mean fuck all. For ten years he'd been asking about it, and for ten years he had been told they were being phased out. Yet he had never seen a change in ratios of new:old chairs, ever. It was a mystery, indeed.

The difference now, and why much of his limited, tired brain's thoughts were focused on chairs, was that he was sitting in the airport he usually sat in, the North Atherlon International Airport, only this time he was in one of the comfortable chairs. It was the first time he could remember, throughout his entire life, that waiting for a plane had been so comfortable. Later he would wonder whether it had been an uncomfortable one but he had been so tired it felt like a king's throne, but would dismiss it out of triumph.

It was not that there were more new chairs than usual, it was simply that there was no one else waiting for the plane he was taking. A Haraki Diplomacy Corps jet and a private governmental branch of gates meant that he, a few diplomats, and a party of what looked like economists reading newspapers were the only ones in the entire lounge, which left more than enough nice chairs for all of them. It felt like heaven.

He was the only one getting on his plane. In order not to be wasteful, though, the government was including a few gifts for those he was visiting: Harakian wine, joint research grants, and several crates of assault rifles and blueprints for tanks and airplanes. He also had a folder. The folder he had been dreading having to present, partly because he would be presenting it to peopel he hadn't met, and partly because he didn't know how well it would be received.

He was a fish out of water. A natural military man, one who one of his instructors at the Harakian Military Academy had described as 'a born leader', another as 'a natural general if I ever saw one', and one as 'born to lead men into combat', he felt very out of place being diplomatic. And it was all because he had happened to become very close to the highest-ranking member of an allied military force, and his close relations with her had led to a non-aggression pact, treaty of friendship, and a massive Harakian-subsidized military expansion program. He had been appointed the 'Military Liaison for Harakian-Neue Neue Deutsch Affairs', which basically amounted to a diplomatic post involving the military in some way. He didn't even think there was a Non-Military Liaison. No, they'd pawned off a diplomatic position on him like it was a bad guitar. At least he was a fish out of water in a comfortable chair.

A chair that had put him to sleep.

He was roused by the only attendant on the entire flight shaking his shoulder gently. "General?" she said in a soft voice, trying not to wake him suddenly. "General, wake up."

His eyes slowly opened, mumbling something, the dream he had been having fading rapidly, and his fuzzy vision kicked in almost immediately - years of combat training paying off in real life. "What? Right. Time to go?"

She nodded and stood up. He followed, grabbing his small case to take onto the plane with him, filled with papers to read and a crime novel. He assumed they would serve food on the plane. He hoped so, since he had developed quite an appetite during his short nap.

The plane was airborne fairly quickly, and a relatively short trip would be made. To Neue Berlin. To see Luisa. To present diplomatic briefs, and diplomatic plans, and see just what the hell a Military Liaison was supposed to do.

He missed the 72nd already. At least, when in command of an infantry division, you knew where you stood in the world.

He didn't know if he missed it more or less than the comfortable chair.









OOC: Closed to me and Neue Neue Deutschland.

Leutnantgeneral Luisa Rhurlunder waited at the appropriate gate in the Arrivals terminal of the Neue Berlin airport, and watched the clock nervously. She was far from alone - some twenty odd reporters were crowded in, kept back at a decent distance by a simple velvet rope, like something used to keep the crowds orderly at nightclubs. Of course, she doubted that many bouncers were as heavily armed as the soldiers from the newly formed 12th Battalion who stood guard along the rope.
They were there for show, really, to make a point - Neue Neue Deutschland was a power now, was becoming militarized, and wanted to show that to their allies even as they greeted them in friendship. Personally, Luisa doubted that that posturing was anything but posturing.
Other than the guards and the reporters, a few higher ranked officials waited - herself, four people from the Ministry of Economics, Minister Roth from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs with two of his people, and a young Hauptman from the ministry of defense. His name was Ludwig Eisner, and he'd made a name for himself during the short-lived Neue Neue Deutsch expedition to The Khornate Tribes. Of course, he'd been disgraced, but it hadn't been his fault - he'd done what he had had to to avoid a slaughter as the Undershi armour had advanced. Still, he was anything but popular with the Khornate refugee population, even if he had managed to get thousands of people out before the Undershi had moved in. She considered him a useful man to have around - he had all sorts of interesting ideas about the future of the Neue Neue Deutsch military.
Soon the plane would arrive from Haraki - she wondered what she would say. Not as an official greeting, of course - that was planned and choreographed. After - once they had had a chance to talk. There was just so much to talk about, and that worried her, at least a little.
Outside of the airport, three limos waited, along with four Eagle scout car escorts, the later utterly for show. Once the plane arrived, they would have a quick ceremony at the gate, then take the Haraki diplomats to their embassy to prepare for a larger ceremony the next day.

The plane's wheels touched down lightly, more thanks to the autopilot than the pilot skill, and it slowly came to a halt at the end of the runway before turning and taxiing slowly into a berth which it had been designated hours earlier. Gregory Neils sighed a deep sigh, that of a man not involved or interested in politics, but who was forced into it anyway, and stood up, grabbing his case and walking towards the door. he had changed on the plane, getting dressed into his full dress uniform to make a show for the press and any observers outside the gate. it made his shoulders itch. The fabric on the dress shirt was fraying, and the more uncomfortable outer jacket was scratching back and forth against his shoulders as he walked. He'd tied his tie too tight, and pricked himself twice trying to pin on his rank badge on a moving plane. Accompanying it were the Neue Neue Deutsch medals he had received while in Danteri, as well as two Harakian ones: the first for being shot in the stomach while leading a company of troops in the NATO wars, as a young captain fresh out of the Caltis Military Academy.

The second was for saving the life of a man under his command, whose tank had been shot with a white phosphorus artillery round while fighting the forces of Atherton in a war that hadn't lasted three weeks. The general, then a colonel, right beside the tank while inspecting the troops there, had seen the shell hit and had seen three badly-burned soldiers come stumbling out of the four-man tank's hatch. He had rushed in to try and save the fourth man, and while grabbing him had received first-degree burns on his upper arms against the scalding metal of the tank. He had saved the man's life and won a medal. The scars remained on the outsides of his arms, and would for the rest of his life.

Shaking off these morbid thoughts, he cleared his mind and stepped past the smiling flight attendant into the long extendable hallway that attached the plane to the airport. As he stepped towards the door,s he took a deep breath to steel himself for what was coming. Stepping through the doorway, he was greeted by a series of flashes from the cameras of the twenty or so journalists behind a rope guarded by armed soldiers. A show of force, he thought. Nice.

Around ten other people were waiting for him. He recognized one instantly: Luisa Rhurlunder, his opposite number and the highest-ranked soldier in neue Neue Deutschland, last he heard. Another face took him a moment to place, but he recognized it from the files he had been reading on the plane on Neue Neue Deutschland's government. He was the Minister of Foreign Affairs, but Greg wished he could place his name. Ruth? Roth? Wrath? It was something like that. He hoped Luisa would introduce the man before they had to speak to each other formally.

What looked like six government suits accompanied the minister, while Luisa was accompanied by a younger man in dress uniform. Greg didn't recognize him, but could place his rank at Hauptmann, recognizing the insignia from that he had seen in Danteri.

Not really knowing what to say, as he stepped through the door he resolved to wait until the welcoming committee instigated talking and then respond to what they said.

He was hungry. The food on the airplane had been awful, and he hadn't eaten much of it. He hoped they went to lunch, or dinner, or some kind of food sometime soon. If not, he resolved to skewer and roast a journalist. Quell his insubordinate appetite, make an example, and scare away the rest of the press all in one.

Luisa smilled as she saw Greg walking off the airplane. He looked a bit uncomfortable, so she moved to get it over with quickly. She walked towards him, smilling with no feigned emotion, and said:
"Greetings and welcome to Neue Neue Deutschland, on behalf of the Neue Neue Deutsch government. Minister of Foreign Affairs Roth here," at that point she gestured towards the Minister, "has a few words to say, and then we can get moving - your embassy is, I believe, under construction, so we have reserved a floor for your people at the best hotel in Neue Berlin." she stepped aside, and the Minister began his speech. As he did, she winced mentally, and perhaps a little physically too - Minister Roth was known to be a long winded, boring, speaker.
He didn't disapoint her expectations either, begining:
"I greet you on behalf of the honorable government of the Republic of Neue Neue Deutschland. We are always proud to welcome our allies from the Social Democracy of Haraki. We have noted with interest the occurences in Danteri and Okielahoma, and look forward to many more such acts of cooperation, although needless to say we do not long for more wars to break out. To do so would be quite militaristic!" he continued in that convoluted vein for several minutes longer, until even the reporters looked annoyed, before concluding:
"And so, we welcome you to the great city of Neue Berlin." he seemed about to begin again, but Luisa interupted him, saying:
"I'm sure that these people have had a long, tiring, flight - we should let them get a rest and something to eat." that said, she motioned towards the limos, eager to prempt another long-winded speech.

Greg smiled openly at Luisa's greeting, inwardly kicking himself for not remembering Roth's name as she introduced him. He was about to open his mouth to speak when Roth began to talk. And continued to talk. By the time he finished, Greg had forgotten what he was going to say, and was merely standing there with a sheepish grin on his face, his stomach rumbling, and the crew of the plane coming down the hallway, not expecting the ceremony to still be going on.

He nodded gratefully to Luisa as she interrupted the Minister, and he was finally allotted a time in which to speak. "Well, I'm very glad to be here," he said with more than one false start. Getting into the flow of an improvisational speech, he added "We in Haraki are always glad for an opportunity to co-operate with the Neue Neue Deutsch, and I'm very glad to be here doing so."

A natural born politician? he wondered. Could I be one?

Then he dismissed it outright as he began to walk forward and hopefully fall into step beside Luisa as they walked towards the limos. Partly this was to strike up a conversation about some inane military matter or something small-scale from Danteri. Something Roth would know very little or nothing about, so that he could avoid any more lengthy monologues. Partly.

With a memory like that, he should be in theatre, he thought cynically as they walked towards the limos.

The limos stopped at the hotel, where a small crowd had gathered. Most of the assembled people waved flags, both those of Neue Neue Deutschland and of Haraki, but a small group near the back, with armed Polizei officers surrounding them, seemed angry - they were chanting anti-war slogans, and had signs with slogans like "Haraki Militarists go Home" written on them.
Luisa noticed, and seemed embarassed as she explained:
"That... that's the Radical Liberal party's contingent. They consider all of the expansions we've made to our military to be shameful, and despise all members of the armed forces." she hesitated for another moment, then continued,
"Right now they're protesting because the Bundestag, our parliment, is considering instating conscription. We need manpower in the armed forces, after all. With a newly active Kraven out there, not to mention Undershi, I think you can see why we don't want to leave ourselves defenseless." the other members of the Neue Neue Deutsch greeting party started to exit the limos, so she moved, motioning for him to follow as they made for the entry to the hotel.
In the background, and anti-military protestor shouted:
"No more bombs! No more killing innocent children like in Okielahoma!" the other protestors shouted their agreement, and the Polizei officers tensed, as if expecting one of the protestors to throw a bomb, or rather for a member of the larger pro-Haraki crowd to try to shut them up. But nothing happened - Neue Neue Deutschland was a country that respected its citizens freedom of speach.
As they entered the lobby, Luisa leaned in towards George and appologised again, whispering:
"Sorry. You know how things can get."

Greg strongly considered walking over and giving the anti-war activists a piece of his mind, but remembered that he was supposed to be a diplomat. Instead, he curtly ignored them and continued walking into the restaurant, giving a friendly smile to the people gathered in support of him. Entering the restaurant, he breathed a small sigh of relief. After many years spent in command of frontline combat troops, seeing wide open spaces or crowds made him slightly uneasy, and as he entered the restaurant beside Luisa he reached up and loosened his tie. Realizing he had completely forgotten to see what sort of restaurant it was, he turned to Luisa. In a low voice, he replied "It's no problem. I'm used to it. By the way, what kind of food do they serve here?"

He had left his case in the car, but took this opportunity to remove his outer coat, leaving only the dress uniform, and hang it over his left arm.

Luisa smilled as the serving staff laid out the menus. She answered his question while removing her coat and laying it across her chais:
"Here they are famous for their barbeque. I've never been here before, so I can't really recomend anything." She kept smilling, and sat down. As she motioned for him to sit next to her at the large table, coincidentally at the head, Minister Roth claimed the other end, and began a long winded toast even as the other people started to sit.
Luisa's smile became a bit forced as she listened to him repeat almost word for word the speach he had made at the airport. Quietly so as to not be heard by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Luisa leaned in and whispered to Gregory:
"You know, this reminds me of a joke they have about the Minister. They said that he got the job because when they were choosing from the various candidates, they put them all into a room and gave them each a chance to speak. When Roth had finished, all of the others had killed themselves rather than endure his speach... so of course, he got the job." that little joke restored some genuine humor to her smile, but she still seemed quite annoyed - no doubt she was almost as hungry as he was.

OOC: Hello? Haraki? I'm sorry if I haven't been the most prompt poster, but where are you?

OOC: Shit. Sorry. I never saw your post, and I thought I was waiting for you.









Greg waited a moment, nodding and laughing quietly to the joke. But, above all, he was not a diplomat. This man was testing his nerves, and the dull monotonous tone of his voice was nearly sending him to sleep. Grabbing his glass in his right hand, he waited, poised, until the minister took a breath and stopped talking for a split second, at which point Greg stood up, raised his glass, and said loudly "Thank you, Mr Roth. Now, I believe it's my turn.

"A toast! To Neue Neue Deutschland, and to Haraki. May we have many years of prosperity and cooperation between us. Also, may we all eat and drink tonight for all the nights we have not eaten and drunk together, because frankly, there are three things you shouldn't talk about at a good dinner table: politics, suicide, and religion. I'd rather we forget about all of them for now." he raised his glass a bit higher, nodded his head to the assembled group, and drank deeply before sitting down again.

"I wish I'd had about a dozen more glasses before I did that," he whispered to Luisa. "This stuff's got almost no alcohol in it, and it would've been nice to be a bit buzzed. Maybe I could've gotten my point across even clearer."

She smilled as he said that, then began eating as the food was brought in. It was a good meal, if one appreciated roast meat and lots of it. Otherwise... well, a vegetarian would likely have left the table hungry.
As they ate, Luisa leaned over and asked Greg:
"Well, negotiations start tommorow... how do you feel about them?" the question seemed casual, but there was something about the way that she asked it which seemed a bit... worried, as though something was going on which he didn't know about.

"Truth be told, I'm a bit nervous," he replied, setting his fork down to avoid the temptation to continue eating the brisket in front of him. "I've never had to deal with politics before, and I have to propose and deal with some stuff that goes beyond what limited experience I have with politics. My knowledge is ... flawed at best, I suppose you could put it."