NationStates Jolt Archive

Lieutenant-General Caralyn Roseti smoothed the slight wrinkle which had spread across her earthen-coloured lap; the duty uniform of the Defence Terra being coloured a chocolate brown to cement the link between the soil and the fighting—and the dying—her branch did upon it in times of war.

Sat opposite, eyes closed, her counterpart in the Defence Solarri reclined—one Lieutenant-Major (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Ranks_and_Uniforms_of_the_Defence_Solarri#Comissioned_Officer_ranks) Elannan passed the short flight away resting. A world away from each other in doctrine, tactics, responsibility and training the two branches of service which made up the majority of the Kaeneian Defence Force now sat across from each other in clashing colours of brown (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Ranks_and_Uniforms_of_the_Defence_Terra) and navy blue (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Ranks_and_Uniforms_of_the_Defence_Solarri#Uniforms).

For Caralyn, the myriad other officers, NCOs and enlisted personnel the Defence Terra had always retained a grounding that its star-spanning sister organisation did not. The General had always tended to believe that routinely seeing one’s enemies no closer than the sensor signatures or imaging scanner readouts of a typical starship did much to reduce one’s humbleness towards death.

She freely admitted of course that much of this ill-feeling stemmed from a not-entirely rational (though equally not without a point) grievance that the personnel of the Defence Solarri typically enjoyed better odds of survival.

More often than not for Caralyn and her men (and women), the TAC suit was the most to look forward to—and that was standard issue in combat theatres.

“Nervous, General?”

Roseti hardly missed a second as she panned her head to the figure taking a seat beside. “In my line of work Overseer,” She began whilst taking note of the shuffling which announced Major Elannan sitting up, “It’s regarded as healthy to always be nervous.”


Riordan Likonesse (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Riordan_Likonesse) nodded as he flicked through pages stored on the data node he held in his hand. “I’m inclined to agree with you—this was the sum knowledge on the Xirnium Republic my office held.”

“Then it is fortunate you head the Officer of Foreign & Extra-Solar Affairs, Overseer.”

“Not as fortunate as you might think,”The senior of the group replied as he cast the node down. "For all the pages it contains the only first-hand information consists of Commodore Xiaz’s current reports to the Unified Defence Committee regarding the Xirnium ship in Europan orbit.”

“The Commodore is very precise,” Lieutenant-Major Elannan added as if the honour of the Defence Solarri had been impugned in some minor way. “He will have included anything both useful and known to him.”

Riordan nodded almost diplomatically, “Of course Major. However it is never wise to base your assumptions on one source of information, especially a source which has been recorded on the cusp of a possible conflict.”

“Ladies and Gentleman we are beginning our final approach to destination—please ensure all safety belts are fastened, that all luggage is stored in the overhead compartment and free of providing an obstruction, and that you have cleared the conference table in front of you of any personal items. Air Kaenei (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Air_Kaenei) once more reiterates its hopes you had an efficient journey.”

The thrum of the Gravliner’s engines increased audibly as the gradually widening tilt of a left turn and the steadily building whine of the ever-present gravity field combined to announce with the Captain an approach to landing.

Riordan tugged at his lap belt once more as the rapidly scrolling landscape of their destination loomed in the expansive oval windows to his left, accompanied by the dull thud of the landing gear deploying. “At least introductions will be short however—our party is only three strong.”

Vardwën International Airport
Naèräth, the “City of Amaranthine Light” and capital of the nation of Xirnium

Twilight in the Eternal Republic.

As the dying sun set slowly beneath the glittering skyline of the Naèräthian metropolis it projected a brilliant succession of intricate and complex fires across the heavens, casting the very firmament aflame. Strangely foreboding clouds turned a fierce blood-red and vivid amaranthine purple. Innumerable fulgent sunbeams, all of scarlet gold, splintered dramatically in a pale azure sky. For those who cared to watch, the resultant effect was exquisitely sublime. A gorgeous kaleidoscope of a thousand different clouds in constant, elegant motion, all uniquely fired with reflections of cardinal reds, aubergine purples and titian golds.

Though lovely, the scene was one of fleeting evanescence, and would soon sadly fade from sight and memory. Before too long the setting sun vanished entirely beyond the distant horizon, causing the evening sky to darken eerily and plunging Xirnium once more into the deep dusk of twilight.

For Eléanor Sabëlinà, countess of the ancient aristocratic family of House Numêsalquó and foreign affairs minister of the Eternal Republic’s government, the twilight was itself a most seductive metaphor. She found that it resonated extremely well with her as a representative symbol for Xirnium, that the notion of twilight intuitively summed up her own pessimistic, decadent attitudes. After all, perhaps the Xirniumite civilisation which she so loved had finally reached its own peak, and must now begin a gradual and yet mournfully inevitable decline. As darkness gathered over a tired globe, maybe the Eternal Republic herself, guardian of Western values and champion of civilised humanism, would finally wane like the autumn sun.

One could reasonably maintain, for instance, that the present glory of Naèräth lay not in its modern eminence but, for the most part, in its mighty past. Its many buildings were masterpieces of baroque and flamboyant art, abounding with yet more splendidly unexampled art. Art for art’s sake, art the likes of which might never again be equalled. Could not the claim therefore be made that everything of worth had already been said and done, written and felt, thought and built? Xirnium had always been characterised as rather inwards-looking and self-indulgent, but perhaps these iconic national traits had now developed into something more, a deeply rooted cultural malaise. Xirniumite society, Eléanor mused, was myopically self-absorbed and profligately decadent; indeed, it was exuberantly so, and immensely proud of it. Xirniumite culture veritably revelled in refined, fashionable debauchery, even as it delighted in it’s own sophisticated cynicism.

And so it seems that the Eternal Republic stands alone at the fin de siècle, last lonely bastion of civilisation; beyond the cusp lies eternal, doleful twilight. Perhaps such is only fitting. At the very least, we must always remain true to ourselves....

Eléanor smiled a little at such thoughts and shook her lovely head, causing long, curly tresses of golden auburn hair to shimmer attractively. It was all, somehow, far too melodramatic; fashionably romantic tripe with no real foundation in reality. The sun was no closer to setting for the last time on Western Civilisation (and, by extension, the Eternal Republic, with which it seemed inextricably intertwined in the countess’ mind) now than it had been at the end of the nineteenth century. Had the foreign minister not only yesterday declared to her friends that Xirnium stood at the brink of a new, golden age of boundless hope? Eléanor perceived that she mourned not the Eternal Republic but her own fading world, indeed herself. Countess Sabëlinà was after all a listless, aimless, and self-indulgent aristocrat in an age that seemed no longer to need her.

Yes, in her more melancholic moments, even Eléanor sometimes yearned for the atavistic. The noblewoman was loath to admit it, but this realisation unsettled her.

‘Did you want to say something, Eléanor?’ asked Lady Agáta Nársúlë, the minister for science, research and technology.

‘No, no. Please, go on,’ replied the countess with a small smile, forcing her gloomy thoughts from her mind.

As Agáta continued to prattle on about the feasibility of mining near-Earth asteroids with self-replicating, automated facilities, Eléanor soon found herself distracted once more, her gaze drifting over to the rich, elegant and exquisitely detailed patterning of the terminal’s plush floor covering. The countess noticed that the delicate carpet was made of fine silk augmented wool, enriched with gold and silver filigree threading that heightened its subtle shades of luxurious colour. Of distinctly Northern European character, the sumptuous carpet embodied fantastic floral tracery and intricate architectural motifs, seamlessly blending the finest of renaissance and baroque forms.

‘And that, I daresay, will be our guests,’ noted Agáta suddenly, although she didn’t really need to. Even Eléanor could tell that the distinctly shaped aircraft which was visible from the terminal’s observation windows was highly unusual (obviously of unconventional design and presumably powered by some exotic propulsion device).

Eléanor stopped absently pleating her skirt between her fingers and stood from her seat, getting ready to greet the Kaeneians at the diplomatic terminal’s primary gate. Agáta duly followed her colleague's lead, standing gracefully on high heels.

‘Do you think I look okay?’ asked the foreign minister with a frown.

‘Yes, you look fine,’ replied Lady Nársúlë, not usually one to indulge the countess’ vanity.

In fact, Eléanor wore a highly fashionable couture suit that succeeded in arousing something very much akin to envy in the Xirniumite science minister. Elegantly tailor-made to flatter her feminine sylphlike form, it consisted of a stylish, braid-trimmed and gilt-buttoned cardigan jacket with gracefully slim skirt, one that was both figure-hugging and long enough to almost touch the ground, flaring out slightly at the hemline. Agáta, by contrast, wore a simple yet chic, tailored skirted suit cut from a rich, lustrous fabric in silver grey. The science minister’s attire was from a couturière known predominantly for elegantly modest fashions with a streamlined look, rather than the sheer luxurious glamour of Eléanor’s outfits. Both ladies wore tasteful dashes of expensive jewellery; including a flawlessly elegant pearl necklace in the countess’ case, and a splendid parure of diamonds and sapphires in Lady Nársúlë’s.

‘The Kaeneians are supposed to be really very reasonable people,’ explained Agáta in somewhat a hopeful tone. The parliamentarian seemed excited to meet her interplanetary guests, although this feeling was tempered by a disquieting concern for Xirnium’s space programme.

‘Oh, I’m sure that they are…’ murmured the countess doubtfully. First it was the Elves, now it was these strange “Kae Solarri” aliens. What ever happened to dealing only with civilised Europeans? she wondered briefly.

Decidedly unenthusiastic, Eléanor only hoped this meeting didn’t take overly long.

In truth, the Kaeneian visit and the circumstances which surrounded it were something of a mild embarrassment to the Xirniumite Government, who only wished that it would all soon go away. The vested interests of a number of important members of the Eternal Republic’s ruling elite demanded a quick and quiet resolution to the controversy. Certainly the press’ picking up of the story had not helped in this regard.

Consequently, the Kaeneian delegates were not greeted on the tarmac of the airport, with full military honours, brass fanfare and a guard of honour. They would be greeted instead inside the terminal, where discretion was possible.

‘Welcome, honoured guests, to the Eternal Republic,’ spoke the countess, her lovely voice unexampled in its clear and silvered euphony. The two Xirniumite politicians politely introduced themselves and, as was only customary courtesy, exchanged friendly, soft cheek kisses with the three Kaeneian delegates.

‘How so very unfortunate that your visit could not have been undertaken in somewhat more pleasant circumstances,’ Eléanor noted, a distant smile curling the edges of her carmine, lipstick-coated lips. The countess’ allusion was designed to pre-emptively steer the conversation towards the main purpose of their meeting.

The reinforced and isolated control centre of the DSAED-800 model Gravliner was relatively isolated from the four engines mounted beneath wings and upwards on parallel sweeping pylons--sitting as the cockpit did above and to the very rear of the stretching fuselage much like a rider might oversee a sweeping animal from its lofty back. Despite the tranquillity of sorts the audible thrum increased sharply as the thrust reversers obeyed the urgings of the tapped command runes and sections of engine cowling yawned forward to spill forth burning gases.

The screech of tyres placed under tremendous pressure which had laid claim to largest distraction was promptly relegated to unimportance as the high-pitched scream of super-heated and ambient temperature air mixed, slowing the craft upon the long runway.

After a time the roar subsided now that journey completed, only a single engine was required to provide the minimum thrust necessary to turn and steer the eight-hundred seater liner. Slowly as if hesitant in an unfamiliar environment, the Air Kaenei charter pulled into its assigned gate and finally quietened with the silencing of its final engine.







Lieutenant-General Caralyn Roseti stood at the forward exit hatch--the seal already broken and the door slightly ajar though her hands remained clasped to the separated rim so that not even the most obtuse individual could fail to notice she was effectively holding it shut. She nodded to her Defence Solarri counterpart as he took up the opposite side; straightening as their civilian superior entered the fray.

“Are you ready Ambassador?” Lieutenant-Major Elannan asked more out of duty than because he expected a member of the Council of the Aengelistoria Dominica to be more interested in conversation than punctual.

Riordan nodded, “I have what little may be of use--are you two ready?”

It was the turn of Elannan and Caralyn to exchange slight frowns. “We do not anticipate being shot before we leave the terminal, sir.”

The older Kaeneian dipped his head slightly, “You may be in for something more surprising … Shall we?”









The journey from staircase to civilisation was a short one, though all three members of the delegation took time to observe their surroundings and attempt to place a compatriot; the two representatives of the military likening the Xirniumite architecture to Aelosian design and the senior veteran more sure of Menelmacari similarity. Such internal musings were terminated by the appearance of two representatives of this “Eternal” Republic.

General Roseti took note of the intensely styled garments worn by both females, though one seemed to the Kaeneian to be more ornately adorned than the other. Caralyn deduced a free-market, or at the very least a functional capitalism must be in place to make it both worthwhile or survivable for tailor or costume-maker to make so. Major Elannan studied the duo’s faces intently as if he might be able to read the words of a script from their eyes, feeling perhaps that one of the attending seemed less enthusiastic than it appeared. Though Elannan made no certainty of his ability to read strangers.

Strangers with poor etiquette all three Kaeneians remarked to none but themselves as unwelcome kisses were entered into. General and Major alike remained utterly unmoved, save for the near-imperceptible whitening of knuckles held together beyond sight behind the back.

“I am Riordan Likonesse, Supreme-Overseer for the Office of Foreign and Extra-Solar Affairs, representing the Council of the Aengelistoria Dominica on behalf of the Serene Union and her united Provinces.”

The aging Overseer pointed first left and right; “Lieutenant-General Caralyn Roseti, representing the Defence Terra. Lieutenant-Major Elannan, representing the Defence Solarri--together representing the Kaeneian Defence Force.”

Riordan cocked his head slightly at the mention of better circumstances; “The circumstances behind the reasoning for this meeting have not yet been set in stone, my Lady. As such I will reserve judgement until the benefit of hindsight allows me to decide whether that is true.”

Eléanor seemed to find something about the overseer’s response to her comments rather amusing, and the very corner of her lovely mouth appeared to twitch slightly, curling her scarlet lips into a private smile.

‘Of course,’ replied the countess in her pleasant aristocratic lilt, her soft voice coloured with a tone of languid thoughtfulness. In Eléanor’s private opinion, the circumstances that surrounded their sudden meeting were remarkably clear, requiring of neither examination nor debate. ‘A most prudent and sensible course of action, if you shall permit me to observe.’

If the Xirniumites were at all aware of (much less concerned with) the discomfort that their intimate greeting kisses had caused the Kaeneian dignitaries, nothing noticeable in the ladies’ demeanour betrayed such a fact. The science minister’s piercingly dark, inquisitive grey eyes smouldered as they flitted briefly between Riordan and her parliamentary colleague, and she smiled nervously.

‘Doubtless you must all be rather tired and hungry after your long journey,’ indicated Agáta vaguely, searching her guests’ countenances for meaning. In truth, the minister had not even the faintest idea just how long it might have taken the delegates to arrive in Naèräth from the great unknown which was the Serene Union. ‘We should both be terribly pleased if you all would join us tonight for dinner, and grace our table with the honour of your presence. Isn’t that so, Eléanor?’

‘Quite so,’ smiled the foreign minister mysteriously, as was often her wont. ‘After we have dined, there should be ample time for us to discuss our unique little problem at great length.’

‘Indeed,’ agreed Lady Nársúlë. ‘Now, if you should be so kind… pray follow us.’

Although the faint purple glow of twilight had not yet faded from the sky, it was already freezing cold outside the terminal building. Eléanor adjusted her furs and shivered, her colleague tightened a silk scarf. Exhaled breath turned instantly to clouds of steam in the frigid air. The Kaeneians and their hosts found a sleek and gleaming silver-grey limousine waiting at the kerb, purring gently as its engine idled. Produced by prestigious automobile manufacturer, and engine building giant, Sílmâtuëmanér Motor Holdings Limited, the limousine followed a design quintessential of the Xirniumite approach, one of elegance and grace, uncluttered styling, and lightness of line and substance. Luxuriousness was clearly the order of the day, and the attention to detail found in the vehicle’s interior appeared both singular and unrivalled, whether as regards the plush upholstery in lavishly soft, fine-grained ostrich hide leather with exquisitely carved ivory buttons, or the gorgeously curved dashboard in rare polished rosewood.

The short drive to their destination did not take overly long, and the Xirniumites seemed content to let it pass for the most part in silence. From behind the limousine’s tinted windows, the foreign dignitaries could observe Naèräth coming alive with countless glittering lights. As night gradually fell over the capital and the metropolis became shrouded in gloomy fog, a different world awoke, one notorious abroad for its dissipated lifestyle and sophisticated decadence. The elegantly refined flâneurs, dandies and mondaines of the fashionable Xirniumite demi-monde mingled gaily with bohemian artists and writers, radical champagne socialists and witty intellectuals. These colourful denizens of Naèräth’s vibrant nightlife met across a sprawling and diverse urban landscape, in innumerable variety theatres, in popular dance and music halls, in plush brothels and cafés, in stylish and prestigious clubs, and in classy and risqué cabaret restaurants.

‘Vandárien plays at the Arandôniel Concert Hall this evening,’ remarked Countess Sabëlinà to her cabinet colleague, referring of course to the celebrated Xirniumite violin virtuoso and composer. There seemed to be a touch of regret in her voice, for most of Vandárien’s concert tours in recent years had been held on the Continent, and his return to Xirnium was something of a rare treat.

‘Oh yes, that’s right. I wanted to see him too,’ explained Agáta. The science minister greatly admired Vandárien’s performances for his perfect intonation and sweetness of tone, and had seen the instrumentalist play on numerous different occasions. ‘Do you know where he might be playing tomorrow night?’

‘In Neúvenärta,’ replied the countess, doubtless mulling over whether she might find the time tomorrow to make a dash down to the famous city on the icy lagoon. ‘And here we are, I think,’ she announced to her guests with affected brightness in her voice.

Owned by the Eternal Republic’s foreign ministry, Närnyänbánd Palace had been constructed in an ornately decorated, frothy baroque style with slightly gothic touches, built to truly monumental proportions that inspired both wonder and awe. The scale of its conception was vast and daunting, dominating the stylish city apartments, hotels and shops, fashionable government buildings and fine embassies and legations that surrounded it. Sweeping interiors and elaborate ornamentation defined the splendid structure, and a sense of yawning spaciousness was provided by innumerable, lavishly decorated galleries, foyers and plushly carpeted corridors. The Palace of Närnyänbánd abounded in magnificent and luxuriously appointed private and state apartments, a thousand grand rooms all fabulously decorated in dainty rococo style, its walls enclosing several splendid courtyards. A touch of brooding menace was afforded to the splendid building both by the presence of forbidding, crenellated grey turrets that kept a solitary vigil over the vast palace, by high, flamboyantly decorated lucarne dormers that projected fearlessly from its sloping roofs, and by lofty, elongated spires and towers that clustered together attractively, as if to challenge the authority of the very heavens themselves.

The main dinning room lay in the left wing of Närnyänbánd Palace and on the ground floor, beyond a massive echoing hall whose vaulted ceiling seemed poised elegantly atop a trellis of sinuously carved, slender marble columns. Thirteen monumental gilded bronze double doors with intricate relief panels opened onto the room, which projected out into the Avârya garden. The dinning room’s great coffered ceiling was elaborately painted and decorated with extravagantly delicate curvilinear motifs in matching gold and indigo colours, outlined with fine silvered mouldings and embellished with gilt. Brilliant, frosty crystal chandeliers hung serenely above the room’s guests, their glittering light mingling with the candle tapers of countless delicate girandoles and reflected in the splendidly carved and gilded looking glasses that adorned the cream coloured walls. The vast dinner table that dominated the room was made of the finest polished ebony with silver mountings, reflecting an atmosphere of conspicuous opulence and covered with a white linen damask tablecloth and elegant silver cutlery.

Aside from the two politicians and their Kaeneian guests, the room was entirely empty. Nonetheless, the lavish banquet that greeted them all exhibited typically Xirniumite extravagance, proudly showcasing sumptuous style and culinary excellence. The meal included, amongst various other fine delicacies, pâtés made from goose foie gras lined with jelly and prepared with brandy and truffles, escalloped turbot, soufflés with creamed partridge, delicate fillets of sole, gorgeously marinated pullets cooked with fresh tomatoes, onions, and garlic, flat médaillons of lobster glazed and elaborately decorated, lightly salted sterlet caviar, stuffed ducklings presented on silver gilt platters and served with a fine red wine sauce containing puréed liver, little ortolan game birds on thin crisp toast, savoury shellfish mousses, thick potage soups prepared with almonds, rose hips, and whipped cream, and tournedos of beef fillet topped by foie gras and truffles, served with croutons and a fortified white wine sauce. Neither Xirniumite lady was particularly hungry this evening, however the two appeared to think nothing of the fact that so much fine haute cuisine should go to waste.

‘I do hope that our humble dinner is to your liking, modest though it may be,’ apologised a frowning Eléanor, briefly casting her eyes over the table’s beautiful crystal carafes and goblets as she was helped to her velvet upholstered dining chair by a gallant attendant. The countess observed that the table was already laden were a staggering variety of appetisers, hors d'oeuvres and canapés, including braised veal in tuna mayonnaise, pickled and marinated herrings garnished with mint and garlic, and thin slices of salt-cured ham.

‘Apparently, the deputy chef in charge of the kitchen was suddenly taken ill this afternoon, and there was some trouble in replacing him at such short notice,’ added Agáta quickly, by way of explanation. The science minister took a small sip of a dry, pale sherry apéritif, smiling a little, encouragingly, at her bizarre and quite out of place guests.

Lieutenant-General Caralyn eyed the table with an absolutely stony expression. Her gaze filtered over the elaborate, almost-painfully crafted dishes and impeccable cutlery. Of all the decadence on show, the Kaeneian could think only of the enormous waste of resources and energies placed into such an over-blown and unnecessary display of supposed Xirnium elegance. A quick glance at her Defence Solarri counterpart confirmed his similar thinking; pure extravagance.


Riordan shared all the feelings of his military attaches but being somewhat more practised than them in the diplomacy game, elected to combat this semi-obvious show of the wonder of their host’s civilisation with some typically Kaeneian stoicism. Passing along the table whilst scarcely eyeing the culinary desires on offer, the Supreme-Overseer plucked a glass from aside a jug filled with water and filled it to the near-brim, taking a sip. To his left Lieutenant-Major Elannan followed suit whilst Roseti merely followed in their shadow.

“Now that we have completed the necessary introductions,” Likonesse began whilst sipping the water again. “I believe we should move on to more pressing matters; a precedent must be set for which any future violations of our territory shall be redressed with. As you have issued an invitation I assume you have a proposal -- let us see if it is acceptable to the Office of Foreign & Solar Affairs, and the Council of the Aengelistoria Dominica.”

Steepling her fingers, the countess leaned back slightly in her chair, smiling pleasantly at her guests. When finally she spoke her tone was one of measured deliberation, her manner unhurried and languidly considered.

‘With the greatest possible respect, sir,’ Eléanor began thoughtfully, crossing her legs at the knee, ‘I am afraid that I shall have to disagree with you regarding the very purpose of our meeting. Of course, in principle, in theory, the setting of a clear, strongly-made precedent, especially with regard to the redressing of territorial violations, is quite simply a grand idea. It has always been my opinion, and on this point I suspect that we are of entirely like mind, that all sovereign nations should vigorously pursue the safeguarding of their territorial integrity.’

‘Not to put too fine a point on it, however,’ continued the countess, sighing a little as she paused, ‘there has been no, nor shall there be, any actual violation of your territory to redress. Endeavouring, as I am sure you will welcome, to prevent such embarrassing a possibility from eventuating, I immediately instructed the particular vessel in question to suspend the pursuit of its planned objectives. Unless I am gravely mistaken, therefore, our spacecraft has abandoned its intentions to land on Europa. We simply have no intention of violating Kaeneian territoriality. Hence, our meeting.’

‘Now, if I might be so bold,’ Eléanor went on, folding her arms across her chest, ‘and by no means would I presume to underemphasise the importance of your concerns, what I should like for us to consider is whether our respective governments might after some discussion reach a form of ad hoc arrangement. We should dearly like the opportunity to salvage something of our endeavour, so that the costs associated with it might not be incurred for naught. This should not be understood as a request for quid pro quo. It would be unseemly to expect any advantage in exchange for merely respecting another nation’s sovereign legitimacy. That is not our intention at all. What we are hoping, however, is that our good faith might be kindly reciprocated.’

‘You see,’ said Eléanor, ‘this mission to Europa represents the final culmination of years of careful planning, the work of thousands of different individuals across dozens of different fields. I should be remiss if I neglected to add that it also represents the spending of a vast sum of taxpayers’ money,’ the countess explained. ‘Let me emphasise that by no means was our imposition on your nation a deliberate one. Had my Government known then what it does now this regrettable mission would never even have proceeded beyond the initial brainstorming stage. Naturally, we take full and total responsibility for all of the unpleasantness that has resulted from our oversight. Nonetheless, the situation is what it is. To put things in more vulgar terms, your government can help us.’