NationStates Jolt Archive

(OOC: As much as I detest fluid time, I didn't feel like waiting with my idea here. This takes place after the end of the Kraven War and destruction of Father, and in the middle of Operation Silva (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Operation_Silva), the APOC invasion of Kahanistan, before significant damage is done to the country.)

Naerath, Capital of Xirnium

Kahanistanian Embassy

Dr. Omar ibn Khalid al-Sanadi, the Ambassador to Xirnium, was speaking via satellite phone to Dr. Margaret Delray, the Kahanistanian Minister of Foreign Affairs.

"These people are just insufferable," the Ambassador ranted. "There's no pleasing them, they terminate the alliance over concerns regarding Allanea, we distance from Allanea to improve our international standing, and we end up diplomatically isolated from a good chunk of the world."

Delray nodded. She was used to the Ambassador's gripes now. "Well... do you think we can do anything about the situation? We're going to get bombed into ashes here, probably the only safe place in Kahanistan pretty soon is going to be Najaster. I don't know where we'd be without the Valens Line. Speaking of Valens... he's pretty sick these days, I think he just got out of the hospital."

"Good lord," said al-Sanadi. "What happened to him?"

"Heart attack. Those Whyaticans are really fucked up. They're trying to wipe us out over a plane," said Delray crossly.

"Crazy bastards. I wish we could get the Xirniumites back in the fold."

"Well, we just might be able to do that. With Kraven forces in retreat and the Corporation's government in turmoil... I think there's hope. One of ours was responsible for it. There are victory parades all over Kahanistan because of it. You might be familiar with her, she was one of the commanders at Xigrat." Delray used the Kahanistanian anglicisation of the Xirniumite town of Xyvarengwe, where Kahanistan and Xirnium had fought for the first and only time against each other. Xirniumite names were very difficult for most Kahanistanians to pronounce.

---

DEMOCRATIC SOVIET REPUBLIC OF KAHANISTAN
Ministry of Foreign Affairs

The Government of Kahanistan, mindful of the changing global political climate and the growing threat of the power of the APOC and Sovereign League, and the changing leadership within our own nation, wishes to revisit the idea of stronger diplomatic and political ties.

We request to send another representative for this meeting, Ms. Nadia Sklenova. We believe she is uniquely qualified to advise the Ambassador and such other diplomatic staff who may be present as to the political and military situation in Kahanistan.

Signed,
Margaret Delray,
Minister of Foreign Affairs

Omar ibn Khalid al-Sanadi,
Ambassador to Xirnium

---

Najaster, Capital of Kahanistan

Brigadier General Nadia Sklenova looked through her hotel room luggage for something to wear. She was in a hotel in Najaster because her home city of Al-Bahr was under siege by APOC. She was going to fly into Naerath to meet with a Xirniumite official regarding the situation Kahanistan had gotten itself into while she was gone. She was talking with another officer she knew who had met Xirniumite officials.

"What do you think of this, Mara?" She held up a one-shoulder tropical dress.

"Too casual... looks like what I wore, and they didn't look too kindly at me." Major Mara Fulton thought back to the time she had visited St. Fedski. One of the Xirniumite delegates had been openly hostile to her, the other seemingly indifferent.

"How so?" Nadia asked. She held up a loose-fitting, mid-calf length solid navy blue dress. "I thought it looked nice enough."

"The woman... absolutely hated me. She just looked at me like I was... like I was scum," said Mara. "Talked down to me, didn't think I knew anything about politics." Dammit, I just turned in my master's thesis, too. Mara had just finished and submitted her M.A. thesis in political science, but her advisor was virulently anti-Amestrian and had made On the Amestrians and their Lies a required main source for the thesis. She knew enough to know that the book was mostly right-wing rhetoric and nobility bashing, and certainly felt that she was knowledgeable in politics.

Nadia sighed. She was very emotional; she could not take the pain of someone openly displaying hostility toward her and still function diplomatically.

"That looks nice," said Mara, looking at the dress. "I'd go a little more formal, though, meeting the Xirniumites on their own turf. You're going to have your work cut out for you..." Mara picked up a light gray business suit from Nadia's luggage. "This looks professional."

Nadia nodded. "Yes..." She had seen the Foreign Minister wear similar suits on TV. She picked up a heavy black overcoat. With the winter gloves, size 10 galoshes (which went over her normal, size 7, shoes), and thick hat, it would keep her warm in Xirnium. Nadia took the clothes into the closet to change.

Crap, the damn thing won't fit. Even at the loosest hook, she found that the same bras she'd been wearing since she was 12 did not fit her. Doubting her sanity, she looked at the size label. 81cm / 32B. The same size she had been wearing for 20 years. Why now... why at this age? Not that she had a problem with more bust, but it just scared her to be growing now. Little did she know what had happened to her in Kraven...

Something must be wrong with my hormones, or something. She continued dressing and came out of the closet, wearing the gray business suit and carrying the overcoat over her shoulder. The plane was still over an hour and a half away.

"Looking nice..." said Mara as the two women left the room to Mara's car. It was an older vehicle about ten years old, a 1997 Pontiac. They entered and Mara started the car, making a frightening noise as the powerful engine roared, rocketing the car out of the parking garage.

"That reminds me of my friend Rachel's car," said Nadia. "Only she drives 250 down the highway with her horn blaring. Where did you get this?"

"My boyfriend gave it to me," Mara said stonily. "For my birthday, in... 2004, I think it was." She still found talking about her love to be painful; he had disappeared in action during the Freekish war and likely been tortured to death, as far as she knew.

As the car tore out of the garage, Mara slammed the accelerator to over 100 kilometers per hour in less than two seconds, and to 150 in four. After making a hard left on the Highway 132 toward Al-Qamar, cutting off a school bus at twice the speed limit, Mara floored the accelerator all the way down, pushing the car to a gut-wrenching 300 kilometers an hour.

"MARA!" Nadia screamed at the top of her lungs. "You're going way too fast. You almost ran that bus off the road!"

Mara slowed down to a more reasonable 200. Nadia took a few deep breaths and clutched Mara's arm to steady her nerves. "How did you get this thing to go so fast?" The car had gone faster than most professional race cars. They were approaching Al-Qamar now, and Mara slowed down to about half over the speed limit, which in cities in Kahanistan was 60 kilometers per hour, compared to a highway limit of 150.

"My boyfriend did it before he gave it to me," Mara said stiffly. They passed a department store, and Nadia remembered something. She couldn't tell Mara; while they were certainly friends, they were not very close. They had sortied together in The State of Britain a while back, and talked a little over Mara's attempts to get the F-90 Guardian Angel, which still weren't going over well. But Mara was not close enough to Nadia that she would tell her exactly what she needed.

"Mara, I need to get something at the department store..." she started. Mara turned into the car park. "I'll go in, too... there are things I could use." They went into the department store and split up, going their separate ways.

Nadia entered the women's department to find something important for the trip. She told the lady at the counter what had happened earlier that morning and the lady nodded and said, "OK, let's get you fitted."

After about ten minutes of various experimentations, the fitting was a success, but Nadia was still puzzled. 32-year-old women didn't just grow from a B to a C; this sounded fishy. She would have to get a physical when she got to Xirnium, after the diplomacy, to have her hormones checked out. Who knew what else might be taking place inside her body?

At the same time she was finished, Mara came out of the department with a small bag. Nadia couldn't see it well, but there was a lot of black lacy stuff in it, which would match Mara's long dark hair and skin tone.

"So, what'd you get?" Mara asked, noticing Nadia's lack of a bag.

"Just something I needed for the trip, nothing too big," she said. Bigger than it used to be, though...

"OK..." said Mara. Nadia could tell that Mara knew she wasn't telling her everything, but she didn't care.

They got into the car and headed for the airport. "Nadia... I'm sorry about earlier, I shouldn't have scared you like that. I thought that you might be used to it, you said your friend drives like that..."

"Which is why I never ride with her if I can help it," said Nadia. "She'll get herself killed one of these days, and take a lot of people with her."

"All right," said Mara. They pulled into the airport. "I'll see you in a few days, Nadia. I won't drive so fast with you again."

The women hugged gently and Nadia left the car to the airport. She boarded the flight from Al-Qamar, Kahanistan to Naerath, Xirnium.

Five hours later, the Kahanistanian civilian airliner landed in Naerath, capital of Xirnium. A young woman stepped off the plane; she was in her early thirties and appeared quite tall. She looked to be about 5'9", but that was probably due to the galoshes and hat she was wearing to protect her from the freezing climate of Xirnium. A closer estimate of her height was probably around 5'5" or 5'6". With her long, heavy black wool coat, only her face and hair were visible. She had long blonde hair, wide gray eyes, soft features and a pretty smile.

The woman approached the Xirniumite delegation, or what she presumed to be it, given the Kahanistanian ambassador's proximity, and smiled. "General Nadia Sklenova." Remembering what she had read on Xirniumite customs, she kissed the head delegate on both cheeks. "The Kahanistanian Foreign Ministry had requested that I meet with the Xirniumite government."

General Sklenova removed her hat to allow the Xirniumite official to kiss her in greeting. The cold air blasted her in the face; even after visiting Kraven she was unused to the harsh weather, possibly because in Kraven she had more important things bothering her than comfort.

Somewhere in the Angâmar Forest
Northwestern Xirnium

Shifting position slightly in her side-saddle seat, and with a few tender, softly-spoken words of encouragement, Eléanor gently urged her horse forward, increasing her mount’s speed from a light and balanced trot to an elegant and graceful canter. The countess’ control over her lovely steed was flawless, an aristocratic skill mastered from childhood. With but the slightest tug on the leather reins or the barest movement of her slender legs and slight heels, Eléanor could effortlessly persuade the horse to execute her every command. As her horse broke into a gallop, riding swifter and swifter, Eléanor’s sylphlike figure was tilted forward, her light weight taken more and more by the stirrups. Reaching a snow-covered, overturned tree trunk, the horse soared confidently through the chill air, returning lightly to the earth with a dull thud.

‘Marvellous, Alyäwen,’ beamed the countess, reining back her steed to a rapid halt.

Eléanor Sabëlinà, countess of House Numêsalquó and foreign minister of the Eternal Republic, affectionately patted the splendid mare as she waited patiently for her beloved sister to catch up with her. The alluringly beautiful noblewoman was stylishly attired in a scarlet riding habit, consisting of a tailor-made, cutaway redingote (with tightly fitting bodice and buttoned lapels), worn with a matching, long flowing skirt whose expensive chiffon fabric covered most of her horse’s haunches. Completing the fashionable ensemble, Eléanor also wore a flamboyantly tied cravat with ribbon bows, stylish heeled boots, lovely scented gloves, and a sable-coloured silk top hat.

‘Warn me next time you decide to suddenly gallop off like that, dear sister,’ exclaimed a delightfully laughing Lucíllia Sabëlinà as her horse eagerly hurdled the great, lichen-encrusted log and came to a stop beside Eléanor’s. ‘I almost lost you!’

The countess’ younger sibling appeared similarly attired to Eléanor, save that her riding habit was a dark navy blue instead of scarlet. Like the countess, Lucíllia also rode aside; a testament to how extremely fashionable the classically elegant side-saddle seat was amongst Xirniumite horsewomen. Also like her older sister, the noblewoman possessed distinctive, finely curled golden auburn hair, its mass of long, silken tresses reaching to her waist.

‘Pray forgive me, although I would simply never allow you to become lost, dear sister,’ replied Eléanor in ancient High Xirnian, the loving adoration in her shining dark brown eyes providing a curious contrast to her pleasantly bantering tone.

Both pretty noblewomen rode elegant, purebred Alánidiel steeds, an aristocratic Xirniumite breed of horse that had been developed at House Numêsalquó’s renowned stud at Aistäthiel and whose founding dated to the fifteenth century. Of grey colour, slender build and with large, expressive eyes, the noble horses excelled at dressage, and proved perfect for cross-country riding and show jumping.

Slowly, the two ladies rode down a gentle hill, entering a small clearing sparsely dotted with handsome coniferous spruce, birch, and fir trees. At the very edge of their hearing, the faintest sound was heard.

‘What do you think that is, Eléanor?’ asked Lucíllia, frowning. The Eternal Republic’s natural parks were areas of pristine and unspoiled wilderness, where one could appreciate Xirnium’s nature untouched by the taint of modern human hands. Here, artificial sounds were easily noticed.

‘Ah, you know who that will be?’ remembered Eléanor, her expression instantly souring. The countess hated to have her time alone with Lucíllia disturbed.

‘Oh do tell, dear sister…’ urged Lucíllia, her interest piqued. As the sound neared, one could clearly distinguish the whirling of helicopter rotor blades, and the countess noticed several brownish-orange owls taking gracefully to the wing, disturbed by the noise.

‘Apparently the Kahanistanians have gone and got themselves invaded again, and now they are coming here to grovel,’ explained the countess succinctly, her expression turning to one of severe distaste. Eléanor’s personal opinion of the Kahanistanian nation was one considerably less than flattering.

A sleek diplomatic helicopter, splendid in its maroon livery, appeared suddenly beyond the line of conifers of the Angâmar forest. Wheeling once above the two ladies, it landed flawlessly in the ice-covered clearing, allowing its passengers to disembark. The noblewomen felt their long hair tousled and elegant clothes ruffled by the disturbance of the helicopter’s spinning blades, even as snow was blown about the clearing. Along with General Sklenova (attired in some ridiculous arctic garb) and Ambassador al-Sanadi (who, really, should have sufficed for this meeting), both of whom climbed awkwardly out of the aircraft first, came the man whom Nadia had kissed at the airport, a low-level functionary of the Foreign Ministry’s bureaucracy.

The countess touched her steed with a riding crop gently on its haunches, commanding it to keep it still. Alyäwen seemed rather frightened by the noisy helicopter, but confidence suffused through the horse at the gentle words of her lovely mistress. As the Kahanistanians arrived, Eléanor rather pointedly did not bother to dismount from her horse and greet them as an equal, prefering that they be left in absolutely no doubt as to who their social betters were.

‘Ah... the celebrated “hero” of Xyvarëngwë,’ noted Eléanor with the undisguised hint of a mocking sneer, quickly noticing Nadia amongst the eclectic group. Countess Sabëlinà had never for the life of her understood why the Kahanistanians considered such a disastrous defeat as Xyvarëngwë in so favourable a light. ‘Well met, dear general,’ spoke the foreign minister disingenuously.

Now on to the next individual. When Eléanor did not look at the petty little soldier, Nadia simply ceased to exist; Lucíllia, for her part, had entirely ignored the overly self-important general from the moment that she had appeared.

‘Dr Omar ibn Khalid al-Sanadi... a pleasure and delight as always,’ the countess lied as she spotted the boorish Kahanistanian ambassador. Although it made her physically ill to do so, Eléanor held out a slender, delicate hand for the Kahanistanian to kiss, its signet ring glittering attractively in the failing light. ‘I do believe that you have not yet had the great honour of making my lovely sister’s acquaintance. Her Ladyship, the High Well Born Viscountess Lucíllia Agáfya Sabëlinà of House Numêsalquó,’ the noblewoman said, introducing her sibling with a most heart-warmingly affectionate tone of voice.

‘Good afternoon,’ smiled Lucíllia condscendingly to the ambassador, a self-amused expression on her face. Taking her sister’s lead, she had remained atop her splendid grey horse. The viscountess bowed slightly to the Kahanistanians, but it was quite obviously a mere, contemptuous parody of the traditional gesture, the mocking bow of a refined society lady to her social and cultural inferiors. Unlike her sister, Lucíllia flatly refused to allow the filthy barbarian to touch her hand’s lovely flesh.

‘How might the Eternal Republic be of service to Kahanistan?’ asked the foreign minister with feigned politeness, the cruel smile which curved her ruby red lips only widening into a malicious grin.

Dr. al-Sanadi nodded and kissed Eleanor's extended hand. Nodding to Lucilia, he extended his hand to her. "Pleased to meet you."

General Sklenova, less accustomed to the Xirniumite cold, held her heavy coat around her body and tried hard to smile while her face was being frozen off. "Likewise, Minister," she said politely. More emotionally sensitive than al-Sanadi, Sklenova could tell that the Xirniumites didn't like her. She extended her hand to the sisters; they could do with it whatever they liked and their response would dictate her next action. They could kiss her or shake her hand or just ignore her.

While the general was greeting the Xirniumites, the Kahanistanian ambassador took a deep breath and resisted the urge to curse out the Xirniumites using the most vile obscenities in his language. "This woman is freezing," said the Ambassador, looking at General Sklenova.

A slim young woman whose home was in the desert and who had little natural insulation, she was clearly more severely affected by the cold than the Ambassador, who had been in Xirnium for the last year and had a few extra kilos from overindulging in Xirniumite cuisine, or the Xirniumites, who were used to living in the colder climate of Xirnium. Sklenova's teeth were chattering and she lowered her hat and head so as to shield her exposed face from the cold.

"Might we first get somewhere warm to discuss matters of state?" the Ambassador asked calmly.

Eléanor and her lovely sister drew their long flowing riding capes closely about themselves as the temperature dropped dramatically with the fading light, the gesture heightening the ladies’ air of regal grandeur. Their exhaled breath turned to steam in the frigid air, and the countess’ long tousled hair blew about untidily in the icy breeze.

‘Can you believe the sheer impudence of these uncultured barbarians?’ asked Eléanor of her younger sibling, shifting to the beautifully melodic tongue of ancient High Xirnian. Pearly white teeth glittered brightly behind the countess’ cruel smile.

‘Who is this peasant soldier, dear sister?’ asked Lucíllia, eyes narrowing in distaste. The viscountess had heard, of course, of the battle at Xyvarëngwë, where fully four fifths of the Kahanistanian invasion force had perished in vain; but she had certainly never heard of this Nadia Sklenova creature.

‘Some gallant “war hero”, apparently,’ sneered the countess. Eléanor shivered slightly; although the two noblewomen’s riding habits were lined with the finest white ermine fur, it was nonetheless still deathly cold.

Eléanor shifted a little in her side-saddle seat, brushing a few strands of auburn hair from her eyes. The countess stood perfectly ramrod straight, her posture impeccable.

‘Ambassador al-Sanadi, I have graciously allowed you to intrude on the all too brief period of time that I occasionally manage to get alone with my dear sister, all so that I could personally expedite the process of addressing your nation’s various concerns,’ explained Eléanor flatly, distinct irritation filtering into her pleasant voice. The countess now spoke in perfect English, save with the distinctive, vaguely continental European-sounding accent that all Xirniumites possessed.

‘Aren’t you at all grateful that I have made such a selfless sacrifice? Wasn’t that enough for you? Do you now also want me to cut short my ride in the country, merely because you find Xirnium’s cold unpalatable? Heavens, Omar, just what do you and your people want from me?’ asked Eléanor helplessly, placing a svelte hand over her breast like a martyr.

‘Either state your Government’s business or else pray leave me in peace!’ Eléanor implored the Kahanistanian, her temper rising noticeably. The countess’ dark eyes glittered dangerously.

Lucíllia, for her part, suppressed a little giggle at Eléanor’s amusing performance, but only with the most admirably gallant effort.

General Sklenova was shocked. She did not expect this kind of reception, especially after her role in driving Kraven from a global menace to a tin-pot isolationist Third World crap hole. She looked quizzically at the Ambassador.

"Maybe we caught them at a bad time..." she said, wondering what idiotic private secretary had scheduled a meeting during the Minister's time off.

The Ambassador shook his head. After a year in the Embassy, trying to negotiate better relations with the Xirniumites and receiving little more than rude comments and hostile voices, he had learned that trying to reschedule anything with these people was pointless. Hell, Sabelina had probably deliberately retreated home when the meeting was scheduled with the intention of creating an excuse to be rude. We really need an ambassador with the cojones to tell these people off.

"Well, Minister," said al-Sanadi, "all efforts at pursuing peace with the Whyaticans have failed. They have outright ignored our Foreign Minister's efforts at negotiation, and seem more than prepared to sacrifice millions of troops for annexation of thirty thousand kilometers of strategically useless land."

Still freezing, General Sklenova looked at the Ambassador, who pulled out an extra scarf and handed it to her. He was more used to the cold than she was, and her need was greater. She wrapped the scarf around her face and neck like a balaclava, so that only her soft gray eyes and her mouth were visible. The general also tightened the belt holding her winter coat against her. She looked something like a Russian peasant dressed for winter.

"Of course, the Whyaticans and Doomani stand no chance against the Valens Line," said General Sklenova, her teeth no longer chattering. "However, the capital as well as other cities may be in range of chemical weapons, similar to the ones used against us in the war with MassPwnage. Also, the A.C.I.D.*, the Doomingsland Air Force, their ACI-73 ASF's can shoot our F-35's out of the sky before we even see them. In eleven years as a fighter pilot, I've never seen anything like them."

The Ambassador continued. "The Holy Empire of Doomingsland sees it as their sacred duty to control the territory our nation is on, it's holy to them. We thought we'd done fighting over that territory when we democratised decades ago and got rid of theocracy. The Whyaticans... they are invading us over one aircraft that entered a NFZ that they established, not over their sovereign territory, but over occupied Clandonian land. We were documenting evidence of human rights violations that would have gotten Whyatica expelled from the Sovereign League."

Sklenova smiled. "We have assessed that individually, neither power possesses the strength to defeat and occupy Kahanistan," she said. "If only one power can be persuaded to leave the engagement, we will have won the war. We've been concentrating on Whyatica because it's not a theocracy and their religion doesn't grant them control over our territory, although we predict over 90% of our casualties will be caused by Doomingsland forces."

The Ambassador nodded to General Sklenova. He felt that she would probably be the best one to actually explain the point to them; she was more open and friendly than he was, something that would probably be needed to soften their attitudes.

"We don't expect Xirniumite military intervention," said General Sklenova. "We merely want the Eternal Republic to... side with us diplomatically, we need powers from outside the Sovereign League to get involved, pressure some politicians, and maybe even rebuild some old bridges between our own nations." With Kahanistan's recent distancing from Xirnium's enemy Allanea, one of the major reasons cited for abandoning the Adamantine Pact simply no longer existed. Then again, if President Valens couldn't save the Pact, certainly a lowly ambassador and a young officer whose main political experience was with the Communist Party would not be able to restore it. On the other hand, such was not really their goal.

"Basically, an easing of hostilities," said the Ambassador. "Coming out in opposition to one of the greatest menaces on the planet, alongside us at the negotiation table... we have nothing to gain from continued hostility."

[*ACID - Arma Caelum Imperium Doomanum, lit. "the arms of the sky of the Empire of Doomingsland."]