NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: The FCD was introduced in this (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=366261&page=1) thread; feel free to use it for diplomatic purposes not concerning this.

IC:

Captain Jeremy Parker scratched his head, feeling uncomfortable in his parade uniform, entirely white, with the exception of the black armband, with the party logo in white, and the same logo in black on the left side of his chest, just by the heart. His head was covered by a white balaclava, under which he wore red goggles, which contrasted heavily with the rest of the uniform, giving an inhuman appearance to the soldiers of the Party.

The soldiers, about 20 percent of which were Nightwolves under his command, where stationed inside and around the Political Dome, awaiting the Party leader’s announcement. The Political Dome was one of the absolutely largest buildings in the capitol, an arena with room for more than 200 000 spectators, which was exclusively used for political announcements, speeches, and important debates. The fact that there hadn’t been a debate since the Party came to power due to the lack of opposition was entirely beside the point.

Once again, Parker found himself wondering about his mission. This time, the objective and reason was quite obvious; the Party leader had to be protected at all costs. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why he and his pack of Nightwolves had been assigned to a simple security mission like this. Nightwolves were an elite element of the armed forces, usually used for missions behind enemy lines, or other operations of extreme importance and danger. As there had been no threats made, he could only assume that the announcement to be made was something well out of the ordinary.

He checked his watch. 14:57. The announcement was to be made any moment now. He looked at First Sergeant Swenson, who was standing next to him. The mask covering his face showed no expression. The masks never did.

“Let’s enter, shall we?” Parker said. Swenson didn’t answer, but simply walked through the grand entrance. The security guards simply let them pass, seeing the golden outline on their logos on the chest, identifying them as Nightwolves.

They entered the Dome. Most of the space was used by the spectator seats, facing a huge stage, on which a grand podium was placed. Large banners with the Party logo were hung from the roof, and on the sides of the stage. The Dome was full of spectators as usual, attendance was highly encouraged. Even if it hadn’t been, many of the people came just to catch a glimpse of the Party’s as well as the Federation’s leader, who was otherwise quite elusive.

The crowd became silent as a voice from the loudspeakers boomed out: ”People of the Federation! Rise for the leader of the FC-Democratic Party, the honourable Leon Vladimirovich Covski!” The people stood up. Accompanied by the Party’s Honour Guard, Covski entered the stage and walked up to the podium. He was a rather short man, with dark blond hair, and thin glasses. As he walked over the stage he radiated an aura of inner strength, and no one, probably not even Swenson, could help to be impressed. If not by the man himself, then by the power he held within the Federation.

As he stood at podium, looking over the silent crowd, the voice in the speakers boomed again:
“Hail Covski! Long live the FCD! Long live the Federation!” Parker, together with the hundreds of thousands gathered stiffened into the Party salute, his right hand raised beside his head. It was an awesome sight, seeing the masses united in the salute, stiff, respectful. Slowly, the crowds began to chant. Hail Covski! Hail Covski! Hail Covski! The chanting increased in intensity, as more and more people joined in. Finally, every last person in the Dome was chanting, including most of the soldiers. All of a sudden, the crowds fell silent in a matter of seconds, as Covski raised his hand into the salute. The contrast to the noise a few seconds before was stunning. Leon Vladimirovich Covski, the most powerful man in all of the Federation, was about to make his announcement.

(To be continued in a moment)

There was a short pause before Covski began to speak. His voice was calm and confident, as his words boomed out over the crowd.

“My comrades, People of the Federation, it is with a heavy heart but with a mind full of hope and confidence for the future that I make this announcement. The Party has decided that, despite the efforts of the Legion and the FCD Response Forces, for which we are eternally grateful, the scourge of the Communist insurgency, led by the traitors of the DCM has grown out of control by normal measures. It is therefore the Party from the moment forward has decided to pass the Second FCD Security Act.

Effective now, everyone involved in unauthorized political activities, all earlier convicted criminals, anyone related to leaders of insurgency-movement, and any other individuals deemed dangerous to the stability of the Federation shall be registered, bar-coded and traced by means of microchips inserted under the skin.

This is only in order to put pressure on the illegal movements which are trying to corrupt our form of government. You, loyal citizens, need not worry, no harm will come to you. Also, all forms of election will be postponed indefinitely, until the Party decrees that the communist situation is under control.

All individuals affected will be called. Failure to attend during the preparation will result in being charged with treason and executed.

People of the Federation, our nation is undergoing harsh times, but with your support and cooperation we will prevail. That is all. Long live the FCD!”

As Covski walked off the stage the crowd was silent for what felt like hours, though it was surely only a few seconds. Then, the crowd began to cheer. Many shouted “Hail Covski”, or “Long live the FCD”. Others yelled “Death to the communists!”, or other things to the same effect. The cheering kept on for several minutes, but finally the Dome slowly emptied, leaving only the soldiers and security personnel. Parker removed the mask and goggles, and sat down to get his thoughts straight.

Oh my god… This was big. Much too big for comfort.

*** Official Diplomatic Communique ***

Fellow nation leaders.

By now, you have surely heard about the institution of the Second FC-Democratic Security Act (the SFSA). The Party assures you that this is only temporary, and will only be in effect as long as absolutely necessary. The Party has no wish to shirk any of the freedoms our People deserve, and this is only aimed to strike a decisive blow to the forces of anti-FC-Democratism present in the Federation. We hope that this action, taken in self defence, will not upset relations with fellow nations. Au contraire, we believe that the SFSA may prove beneficial for world security, and we urge fellow nations to investigate the possibility for similar acts in your own societies.

Sincerely,
Leon Vladimirovich Covski, Leader of the FCD

Richard Fredricson, Vice Party Leader and Minister of Defence

*bump*

*bump zwei*

The VAL 74SL slid easily into FCD airspace.

"Control, this is VAL flight 2006, we are at three-one-six-zero-zero and level. Please give instructions for landing."

In the back of the plane, the two ambassadors - Thaddeus Noordi al-Naaman al-Kava and Rima Mokotoff al-Ruqayyah - reviewed the notes they had been given on the Federation of FCD:

The Federation of FCD is a very large, safe nation, renowned for its barren, inhospitable landscape. Its hard-nosed, hard-working, cynical population of 151 million are kept under strict control by the oppressive government, which measures its success by the nation's GDP and refers to individual citizens as "human resources."

It is difficult to tell where the omnipresent, corrupt government stops and the rest of society begins, but it devotes most of its attentions to Law & Order, with areas such as Religion & Spirituality and Social Equality receiving almost no funds by comparison. Citizens pay a flat income tax of 46%. A robust private sector is led by the Arms Manufacturing industry, followed by Pizza Delivery and Automobile Manufacturing.

Political activists are routinely executed, the government snoops on private internet connections, the government has cut its subsidies for all special interest groups, and teachers are routinely tested to keep their jobs. Crime -- especially youth-related -- is totally unknown, thanks to the all-pervasive police force and progressive social policies in education and welfare. FCD's national animal is the meercat, which teeters on the brink of extinction due to widespread deforestation, and its currency is the fcd credit.

"It is rather a good thing we were not instructed to bring along a trade delegation this time", Thaddeus put forth timorously.
"I would rather thing they would be eaten alive in FCD."
"Quite possible. But, eventually, a delegation will be sent."
"True. However, we might be able to escape the honor of being their... escorts."

A chuckle passed between them just as the plane gave a slight rumble, passing through turbulence.

An omen, perhaps?

***

OOC: A 74SL is a box-wing extended range version of the 747

"VAL flight 2006, you have clearance to land on runway 12. Our delegates are standing by to meet you as soon as you touch down."


On the runway, diplomat William Sjödin was waiting along with his assistant and two soldiers from the Legion. The soldiers wore their parade uniform, and the faceless men with rifles made William uncomfortable.

"Was it really necessary to bring the soldiers, Stephen?", William sighed.

"Well, command certainly seemed to think so", the assistant, a scrawny man with thick glasses answered. "Are you afraid we'll make a bad first impression?", he continued with a smile.

"We can hardly afford to look like some sort of military dictatorship, now can we? Never mind, we're just here to take them to the Foreign Ministery, were the negotiations are to be held. No sightseeing for now. What could possibly go wrong?"

The assistant didn't respond. The plane was touching down.

Both of the diplomats stepped casually out of the plane, both of them smiling casually, enjoying the view of what was around them. Vastiva was many things, but “noted for scenery” it was not. Unless you liked ice and snow, in which case it was a treasure trove.

They stopped in front of the small FCD delegation, and as one, bowed and genuflected, with Rima’s a tad slower.

“Ab-shalom and greetings from Vastiva, gentlemen. I am Thaddeus Noordi al-Naaman al-Kava and this is my counterpart, Rima Mokotoff al-Ruqayyah. Our credentials?" He holds out a small leatherbound packet.

She gives a short bow. “Our secretary shall be following shortly; she can accompany the baggage if there is a need for alacrity of movement?”

Both of them studiously ignore the presence of the soldiers, much as one might ignore the presence of a shrub in a garden.

Both are dressed in burnoose, light boots, and underneath is more formal garb, but nothing outlandish. The pair much reminds any who look upon them as simple country folk, well dressed, but their "polish" is casual, nondescript.

"Greetings, and welcome to the Federation.", William said, letting his assistant take the packet. "My name is William Sjödin and this is my assistant, Stephen Holmes. I am going to be responsible for the negotiations, I'm sure we'll get along just fine." He smiled again. "I suggest we move ourselves to the Ministery without further ado, there will be time for sightseeing later, if you would like to see the sights of the city."

Still smiling courteously, he led the delegation through the small terminal, the soldiers accompanying them wordlessly. They soon reached the parking lot, where a black limousine was waiting along with two black vans and another small contingent of soldiers, all dressed in their white uniforms. As the diplomats approached, one of the soldiers opened the car doors for them and offered them to step in.

"Going smoothly so far", Sjödin thought to himself.

*** Meanwhile, in the military sector of the capitol, three days after the announcement ***

Captain Jeremy Parker looked out through the second floor window of the barracks, down on the courtyard below. Hundreds of people standing in line, waiting to be "branded" in accordance with the SFSA. Every individual would be barcoded on back of the neck, and have a small tracker placed just below the barcode. In addition, they would all recieve new IDs, identifying them as threats to society of varying danger. Parker sighed, not knowing what to think. His pack of 20 men were sitting in the large room, playing cards, talking to each other, working out, or just generally minding their own business. The door opened, and Nightwolf-major Frank Hertford entered.

Without as much as looking at any of the soldiers, the major walked over to him and handed him a folder. Parker looked at him inquisitivly.

"Parker, as you know, this is the last day for people called to be branded to turn themselves in. Those who haven't by the end of the day will be found guilty of treason, and shall be eliminated."

"And I suppose that will be our task? Killing off these 'traitors'?"

"Not all of them, by far. You see, the threats are divided in to four categories. Fourth class threats are mostly petty criminals, the Response Forces will take care of them. Third class contains known communists and friends and relatives to known subversive activists as well as more severe criminal elements. Those guys belong to the Legion. You'll handle second class; individuals believed to be directly associated with the DCM or other outlawed organisations, and close friends and family of insurgence leaders. Luckily, there aren't to many of them. Everything you need to know is in that folder. Good luck."

"Wait. What about first class threats?", Parker asked as the major turned to walk away.

"Ah. They are individuals who can't be handled by ordinary means. They "won't" be taken care of, you know what I mean." The major gave him an uneasy look, and left the room.

Parker knew very well what he meant. The executive platoon. Not wanting to think about it, he opened the folder and prepared to brief his men.

Thaddeus swoops inside, settling in the seat behind the driver. His counterpart crosses the car, sitting facing forward. She smiles at the first FCDer in.

"Sorry, I tend to mild carsick now and again. Will we be passing in front of anything memorable?"


OOC: For clarity

AB
CD He's sitting at A, she at D.

William took the seat next to Thaddeus, and his assistant sat down next to Rima. The soldiers closed the doors, and entered the vans escorting the limousine. A moment later, the small convoy started is journey. The small airport, mostly used for special flights such as this one, wasn’t located far from the city, and limo entered the capitol of the Federation.

The city, with a population of roughly seven million, was predominately made up of structures of steel, glass and white concrete, remarkably uniform and orderly lined up. Huge white banners with the Party insignia in black were hung from many of the larger buildings.

The broad streets were unusually clean for a city of this size, and every now and then, one could see soldiers of the Response Forces (a combination of Police, Fire Department and Ambulance service) patrolling the streets in pairs. One couldn’t help but to notice that there was rather few civilians out on the streets, which made the atmosphere of the city seem quite gloomy.

Inside the limousine, William was doing his best to humour the visitors.

“If you look to the right, you can see the Political Dome. That’s where most of the important announcements are made. And just beyond that you can see the Goldhawk Building, from where the largest corporations of the Federation are regulated. Magnificent structure, 110 floors all in all, if I recall correctly.”

“120 floors, rather.”, his assistant interjected.

“If you say so, Stephen. Now, we are entering the Diplomatic Sector of the city, this is where the vast majority of foreign nations have their embassies. Oh, and if you look to the left, you should be able to see the Party headquarters. Very well. We are going to reach the Ministry in just a few minutes now.”

William looked at the guests, waiting for them to say something, afraid that all his talking about the city had bored them.

*** Meanwhile, in the Party Headquarters ***

Leon Vladimirovich Covski, Party Leader, was in a bad mood when he entered the conferance room. Without a word, he threw a folded newspaper on the table.

"Comrade Party Leader, the diplomats from Vastiva have arrived, they will be reaching the Foreign Ministery soon", an aide said, not seeming to take note of the Party Leader's anger.

"Oh. Bloody great!" Covski sighed. "Now, explain this to me." He pointed to an article in the paper.

Noted Partymember mysteriously missing. Communist involvement suspected.

The aide eyed through the article, quite an uninformative piece on the disapperance of James Grevthon, a Partymember known to be a bit "soft" in his anti-insurgency policy. The aide knew well that Grevthon had been branded as a Class One danger, and thusly removed.

"What about this, comrade Partyleader?"

"One. How did the newpaper get a hold of this? Two. How, how the hell were they allowed to publish it? You know as well as I do that indiviudals removed by the Executive Platoon don't exist. Hence, the have not disappeared. Therefore, they don't get in the newspaper! Damnit!"

"Well, comrade Partyleader..." The aide suddenly looked a bit nervous. "There must have been some, or several, mistakes made with regards to the news administrative branch of the PR Department... Still, the blame was put on the commies, right?"

"That doesn't fucking matter, now does it?!" Covski was quite aggravated. "Anyone with half a brain will understand the the communists didn't kidnap him! Why would they capture one of the Party members most sympathetic to their cause? Let's just hope that this doesn't get into the international press, or things might get bad, quickly. Remember, we are working in self defence, we are not trying to kill off dissidents, remember? Damnit!" The Partyleader took a deep breath, and seemed to regain his composure. "Ah. At least they can't prove anything. The Party doesn't want to comment on the incident. Conduct an investigation to find where the breach of security was. If this gets bad, heads will roll! Figuratively speaking, of course.", he added as he noticed the aide's chocked expression.

"What about the diplomats, comrade?"

"Yes." Covski thought for a moment. "Inform them that I shall greet them personally later. Keep them safe."

William took the seat next to Thaddeus, and his assistant sat down next to Rima. The soldiers closed the doors, and entered the vans escorting the limousine. A moment later, the small convoy started is journey. The small airport, mostly used for special flights such as this one, wasn’t located far from the city, and limo entered the capitol of the Federation.

The city, with a population of roughly seven million, was predominately made up of structures of steel, glass and white concrete, remarkably uniform and orderly lined up. Huge white banners with the Party insignia in black were hung from many of the larger buildings.

The broad streets were unusually clean for a city of this size, and every now and then, one could see soldiers of the Response Forces (a combination of Police, Fire Department and Ambulance service) patrolling the streets in pairs. One couldn’t help but to notice that there was rather few civilians out on the streets, which made the atmosphere of the city seem quite gloomy.

Inside the limousine, William was doing his best to humour the visitors.

“If you look to the right, you can see the Political Dome. That’s where most of the important announcements are made. And just beyond that you can see the Goldhawk Building, from where the largest corporations of the Federation are regulated. Magnificent structure, 110 floors all in all, if I recall correctly.”

“120 floors, rather.”, his assistant interjected.

“If you say so, Stephen. Now, we are entering the Diplomatic Sector of the city, this is where the vast majority of foreign nations have their embassies. Oh, and if you look to the left, you should be able to see the Party headquarters. Very well. We are going to reach the Ministry in just a few minutes now.”

William looked at the guests, waiting for them to say something, afraid that all his talking about the city had bored them.

Rima nods. "Fascinating. I wonder what the view is like..." She watches as the building retreats from the window. "Is the name 'Goldhawk' of significance?"

"Very well dressed soldiers." Thaddeus remarks. "Do you produce those weapons locally?"

"Party Headquarters!" exclaims Rima, "Ah, we must stop on our way back. I am most fascinated."
"Don't worry overmuch, Rima, I'll make a note." He almost blushes during his reply to William. "Many apologies. She enjoys archetecture. Perhaps that is why we were paired; my father is Chief Archetect in Vastiva."

William smiled warmly, happy about the interest shown by the visitors.

"The building is namned after the Goldhawk Act passed shortly after the Party coming to power, which served to regulate the power of corporations. The building was actually corporate headquarters for one of the regions largest information technology businesses, but the Party bought it for quite a lot of money to use as base for the regulation of corporations. A bit inronic really. Heh, God only knows where they got the name 'Goldhawk' from though. Ah yes, most of the weaponry are produced locally by Party controlled weapon plants, to ensure that they get the best equipment."

William chuckled slightly seeing Rima's entusiasm.

"I can ensure you, there will be plenty of time for sightseeing later on. We'll make sure to stop by the Headquarters. Ah, we're here."

The limousine and their escorts had arrived at the Ministry. After a quick check of the papers carried by the soldiers in the first van, the small convoy was let through the gates of the wall surrounding the main ministry building.

The limo parked, and a soldier opened the door. William left the vehicle first, allowing the others to exit by the same door. He found himself standing in the courtyard of the Ministery, just below the marble steps leading up to the entrance. The building itself was constructed in neoclassical style, with large pillars along the sides, as if to support the slightly sloped roof. The white stone building was seven stories high, and quite impressive. Not to anyone's suprise, the banners with the Party insigna was hung from this buildning, much like the others.

The courtyard was somewhat crowded, with a few lines of soldiers and a couple of embassy workers, who were involved in the meeting one way or another.

"Well, my friends.", William said as the other exited the car. "The Foreign Ministery."

As soon as she is out of the car, Rima looks around like a novice tourist. She whirls around in slow motion, taking in everything. "Do you have photographs of this? Postcards? It is just so lovely! How it must be in the winter!"

Thaddeus, on the other hand, continues to watch Rima, giving the landscape only a cursory once over. "You'll have to forgive her, she gets like this. Given the chance, she would likely take in most of your country, one building at a time."

OOC:
I'll be away for the weekend, expect me back by monday. Vastiva, I'll telegram you when I return, or something.

William smiled, feeling that the visitor's entusiasm was a good sign.

"Heh, I understand completely. Trust me, we will do all in our might to show you everything you want to see and tell you everything you want to know during your stay here. Very well." William raised his voice, adressing the people gathered in the courtyard. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the envoy from Vastiva. Let us welcome them to the Federation!"

The soldiers all made the Party salute in unison, and around a dozen people, all working in the foreign ministery, approached the envoys, shaking their hands, and welcomeing them to the Federation.

All going smoothly, William thought. I'm SO going to get a promotion after this.

~lots of handshaking, general looks of slight overwhelmedness, much smiling~

"Thaddeus, you must remind me, postcards!" She looks at their guide. "Is there a chance this is being recorded? Our news would love to broadcast such an event!"

"Yes, this is indeed being recorded, to be broadcasted in the news later today. If you want to, we can arrange so that your news agency gets a copy of the tape. We'll see to that later."

The diplomats had more or less finished their greetings, and backed away to form up in an orderly line.

"Very well, let us enter, shall we?", William said, leading the guests up the stairs to the ministery, placing his hand on Thaddeus back. "Do you want to see your rooms and maybe freshen up a bit, before we start the negotiations?"

[OOC: Excuse my lack of posting, I've just been insanely away and/or busy the past week.]

"Ah yes." William lead the guests through the entrance, accompanied by a few aides. "The Foreign Ministry is basically a compound consisting of four buildings.", William explained as they walked through the grand entrance hall, a marble room, sparsly furnished with the exception of a red carpet leading through the room, a few potted plants, a few sofas and and a reception desk. And, of course, the banners with the Party logo hanging from the walls.

They walked through a corridor, and exited on the other side of the building, entering a somewhat large garden, with mostly evergreen trees and shrubs, as well as a few patches of flowers here and there. on all four sides of the garden, similarly looking buildings were standing.

"In front of you, you can see the Diplomatic Headquarters building. That's where the most important work is made, and also where the talks are going to take place. To your right, that's the Administrative building, mostly offices. Lots of paperwork going on in there." William smiled.

"You'll be staying in the building to your left", William continued, leading the group along to the fourth building. "This building contains living space and a small measure of administrative offices for foreign diplomats and the like."

William lead the group in through the door, showing the guard his pass. They proceeded to walk up the stairs to the third floor, and kept going a bit through a hallway before stopping outside a door.

"Here are your rooms, William said, holding out two keys. Room 306 and 307. The rooms have everything you could expect from a first-class hotel suite, so I hope there won't be any problems. The rooms will be guarded 24/7 to ensure your safety during your stay, and if there is anything you would like, don't hesitate to ask the guard."

The guard in question, a soldier who according to his nametag was named "Winston", nodded to envoys.

"Any questions? We'll give you an hour or so to freshen up and prepare yourself before we get down to business."

William showed them his most charming smile.

*** AT PARTY HEADQUARTERS ***

"...and so, Comrade Partyleader, having them assassinated would be..." Diplomatic advisor Thomas Randall stopped talking as his cellphone rang. "If you'll excuse me, Comrade?"

Covski nodded slightly, adjusting his glasses. Randall answered the phone.

"This is Randall."

"Stephen Holmes here."

"Ah, yes."

"The envoys from Vastiva have arrived at the Ministry. We expect the to be ready for the meeting in a little more than an hour."

"Perfect. Has Sjödin done his job well so far?"

"Without a doubt. Charming as a credit."

"I'm glad to hear it. The visitors haven't seen anything that would have made them upset, have they?"

"Not as I've noticed. They haven't mentioned anything, anyway. Maybe they've been scared silent by our protection measures?" Holmes chuckled.

"Heh, let's hope not. Carry on."

"Indeed."

Randall hung up.

"And that was?", Covski asked.

"Holmes, Sjödin's assisstant. The envoys are at the Ministry, healthy and happy. The meeting should commence in an hour."

"Very well. Let us hope no one is going to mess this one up. Now, returning to the subject at hand..."

"Indeed, you see, the survival of these people are necessery to our cause, beacause of..."

Their discussion continued.

OOC: np, will post in a bit. Well done writing, btw

Rima and Thaddeus were completely smiles, "ooohs" and "ahhhhs" throughout the tour, with Rima all but insisting (A Vastivan would never insist) on photos of everyone and everything, including Winston. Added to that were Thaddeus' questions about the types of flowers and trees, were seeds available, how about cuttings...

On and on and on, the good tourists did their tourist thing.

"Do the rooms adjoin? They do? Delightful! We shall be doing much shuttling back and forth. Our secretary should be along sooner or later, perhaps? Yes, we will wait for all the luggage to arrive. Perhaps a shower... Is there a pool for later? I simply must see more of the city!"

Entering room 306, they continued their tourist banter and looked around the room, opening drawers and commenting on drapes.

And playing with the controls on their M-TCODs as they did, rather secretively. What looked like the yokels from down south looking over the "yee haw fancy" room was actually two well-trained Vastivans from the Diplomatic Corps doing a bug and camera sweep of the room. With their detectors set to "vibrate", it was unlikely anyone watching would think they were anything else then what they appeared - tourists playing diplomat.

(OOC: Is room bugged and/or are there spyholes or cameras? They're not going to do anything about whatever they find, simply to note the presence of)

[OOC: The rooms themself aren't bugged, though the hallway outside is properly surveilled, including microphones that may sometimes pick up conversations in the room, if they are fairly loud and somewhat close to the door. Oh, thank for the compliments on the writing too.]

William was now sitting in the Diplomatic HQ building, together with his assistant, two aides and Randall, planning the meeting.

"Alright, so we'll begin with a short presentation of the Federation. Then, we'll discuss what our nations can do for each other, etcetera.", Sjödin said.

"Indeed, then, we'll talk about what they'd what to do during their stay here. We have clearance to offer them tours of basically anything they want to see, including Party HQ and the Armed Forces.", Randall continued.

"The Armed Forces too? That's a bit unusual. I understood the Partyleader wanted to meet them too."

"He does. So does our 'dear' minister of trade..."

"Poyle? Damnit. He's bloody going to bore them to death."

"That's a risk were going to have to take, unfortunatly. We can hardly deny our minister of trade the right to meet such important visitors, can we?"

"Nope. Half an hour left until the meeting commences. Peters, have you collected the necessary materials for our presentation?"

"Yes, sir.", one of the aides responded.

"Very well. I hope our visitors are pleased with their accommodations.", Sjödin said.

"I'm sure they are.", Randall smiled. "I'm sure they are."

Their luggage and secretaries arrived a short time later - with the former being far more needful.

Two quick showers and a change of clothing later - with Riva adopting a more grecian hairstyle, complete with scrimshawed whalebone combs holding it in place - both felt a bit better.

Their M-TCODs swapped data quickly; Thaddeus checked by the window for a clear place for a burst data send to a Vastivan satellite while he monitored local stations by earphone.

Riva swung casually about, gaining a nod by Thaddeus - her hairstyle and green dress melded perfectly. He had chosen something less flashy, the better to show her off. Besides, there was little besides suits he felt comfortable in.

"Do you think I'll be able to get all those postcards?"
"If not, I'm sure they'll send them to you." Thaddeus downed a pill, handed a second to Riva who downed hers with a handful of water.

Carefully, their M-TCODs were stowed, appearing as little more then cellphones or pagers.

"Now do stow our things, dear. And be careful about the natives, they might bite."
"Yes, ma'am", smiled their secretary.

Sjödin checked his watch.

"Ten minutes to the meeting. Shall we go and see if they're getting ready?"

"You go. Bring a couple of soldiers, too. For safety's sake.", Randall said casually.

"Do you really think it's necessary? Who on earth could attack us in the middle of the Ministry compound? I mean, this is one of the safest areas in the Federation, probably in the world for that matter, and..."

"I know how you feel about having soldiers around visitors, William", Randall interrupted. "But we have clear directives from the Party to keep the Vastivans safe at all costs. I'd hardly believe two soldiers would make them think us some kind of psychotic dictatorship, now?"

"You're probably right.", William sighed.

He stood up and walked out of the room, gesturing to two of the guards posted outside to come with him.

"So, were getting down to business. And one step closer to promotion, too.", William thought to himself as he walked through the park towards the building.

Both were ready and waiting, full of smiles and childlike expectations, perfectly happy to be guided about.

And both treated the two soldiers with the same sort of attention one reserves for bushes and shrubs - there, but not paid any mind.



OOC: Will note at this time both are wearing CAVEX (carbon nanochainmail) under their clothes, which essentially makes them immune to blades, and will prevent bullets from penetrating. It is nonmetalic, being made of carbon, plastic, and cloth, so should not show up on any scans though an X-ray would show a shadow around them (due to density).

Sjödin led the visitors along with the guards out through the garden, turning left where the paths crossed, and walked towards the main building. They entered, walk trough a reception room, walked up some stairs to the fourth floor, and entered a restricted area of the building.

Another short walk through a hallway, and they entered a conferance room guraded by a few soldiers.

The main feature in the room was the conferance table, surrounded by comfortable looking chairs covered in red cloth. On the wall on the far end of the table, a projector was placed, pointing to the flat white wall. Some kind of large potted evergreen plant was standing in a corner, and a small bar next to the war near the door.

As the diplomats entered, Randall rose and approached them.

"Welcome to the Federation and the Ministry!.", Randall said, shaking their hands. "I am Thomas Randall, diplomatic advisor to the Partyleader. These are aides Peters and Berglin. I believe you've already met Holmes, Sjödin's assistant? "

"By all means, sit down!", Sjödin said, gesturing to the chairs. "Would anyone like anything to drink before we start?"

"We'd like to begin with a short presentation of the Federation and the current states of affairs, if you don't feel that you would like to skip it.", Randall continued.

The soldiers outside locked the doors.

"Ab-shalom and greetings from Vastiva." Thaddeus smiles warmly. "I am Thaddeus Noordi al-Naaman al-Kava and this is my counterpart, Rima Mokotoff al-Ruqayyah. Vastiva is most happy to be hosted by your nation."
They both give slight head bows.

Thaddeus smiles at the offer. "Thank you, tea would be nice, if not that much trouble."
"Iced, if you have it." Rima adds.
"Though hot would not be an impossibility."
That gets a nod from Rima. "If there is no iced, hot will do."
"Do you mind if we make a few notes on the presentation?"

Sjödin nodded to one of the aides, who turned to the intercom on the wall right next to him.

"Two iced teas for our guests in conferance room A-C.", he said.

"All right, in a moment.", a voice at the other end replied.

Randall smiled at the Vastivans.

"By all means, do take notes, and don't hesitate to ask if there is something you would like clarified. Remember that this is only a brief summary of the history of the Federation and the Party, but we can provide you with more in-depth material, if you wish."

The door opened, and a man with a small cart entered, placed a tall glass of iced tea in front of both of the Vastivans and, after a short nod from William, turned around and left the room. The doors were locked once more.

"Any time you're ready, Peters.", Sjödin said, and the aide next to projector nodded. He flicked a switch on the wall, turning the lights of in the room. Then, he turned on the projector, which resulted in a picture of a flag being projected on the white wall. The motif of the flag was a black owl, carrying an olive branch in the left talon. Peters cleared his throat.

"The flag you see here is the flag of Vinostravia, a nation which ceased to exist shortly before the birth of the Federation. When Vinostravia was made a sovereign nation, it was promised that it would be ruled by the people itself on a directly democratic level, giving each citizen a chance to make a difference. Of course, this didn't turn out quite as planned." Peters pushed a button, and the image of a man in his sixties or late fifties was displayed. The man had a harsh look over him and a stern look on his face, somehow radiating an aura of power.

"During Vinostravia's second year of existance, the ruling politicians led by Yuri Lintovich, the man you can see here, preformed the so called August Coup, more or less totally abolishing the democratic system. What was worse, they also created a new lower class, a group called "Status 9". These were the people who had been the most active in improving the society, who were now being punished for their work. Status 9 were constantly under control, and assigned workplaces by the a special sector of the government." Peters pressed the button again. This time, Partyleader Leon Covski's face appeared. He was a somewhat small-built man, in his late thirties, with dark blonde hair, and thin glasses.

"Leon Vladimirovich Covski was a member of Status 9. He was determined not to let the Vinostravian government get away with this treason towards his people, and so he began work on a secret underground resistance movement, which was to be the beginning of the FCD Party. Very well, to make an extremely long story much to short, eventually the FCD was able to gain enough popular support to overthrow the Vinostravian government, and thus claimed the main portion of the land, creating the Federation."

Peters turned the lights back on.

"That about covers the very basics of the Federation's history, but I believe Comrade Randall will go more in-depth about the policies of the FCD."

"Indeed", Randall said, rising to his feet. "Good job, Peters. Any questions about this part before I begin with the next?"

[OOC: Too be continued in a few hours.]

Both delegates shook their heads and waited expectantly.

"As you can understand", Randall begun, "The Party's attempt to liberate the people of Vinostravia didn't go unopposed. Not only did the Vinostravian dictatorship fight with all means available, but the Communist Workers Movement, an organisation which had very close ties to the precidency betrayed the FCD at a crucial time in their work, costing us many of our best members, and resulting in the capture of Comrade Leon Covski. Thanks to some 'influential friends' abroad, Covski and other high ranking members could escape, and finally Vinostravia was liberated in a full-scale battle between the FCD and the government, killing thousands of people."

Randall suddenly had a grim expression.

"Unfortunatly, the communists held on to their unprovoked grudge against the FCD even after the Federation was created, and metamorphosed into the Democratic Communist Movement, which was little more that a terror organisation attempting to disrupt the society. The DCM had to be outlawed shortly afterwards, but they still to this day continue to cause trouble throughout the Federation. I'm certain you've all heard about the FCD 'oppressing and hunting down' communists and other dissidents, but everything the Party does, it does with the safety and prosperity of its people in mind. For example, the newly imposed Second FCD Security Act allows the Party to keep individuals deemed dangerous to society under close check, making the Federation a safer place. This includes known terrorist sympathisers, convicted criminals, and the like. We understand how such an edict might be viewed as oppressive and dictatorial abroad, it is the Party's hope that our fellow nations will understand the need for such measures in times such as these."

Randall sighed, Sjödin nodded slightly to himself.

"Any questions regarding this?", Randall asked, still with the grim look on his face.

"The internal policies of a nation do not much concern Vastiva, please be assured," Thaddeus smiled, "and we have more then our share of terrorist problems. Whatever you do, you do. Pray, continue."

Randall suddenly looked more relaxed.

"Ah, we're very pleased to hear that you choose to take such a reasonable standpoint. Unfortunatly, many nations often respond with agressive knee-jerk reaction at the first sign of 'oppression', without any regard to the circumstances. It's a damn shame indeed."

Sjödin smiled.

"It sure is. With that nasty part taken care of, let us summarise the main points of FC-Democratism for you." Sjödin shuffled through a few papers on the table in front of him. "Right. One of the main concerns is the safety and stability of the nation. This includes a zero-tolerance policy with regards to crime and subversive activities."

Sjödin cleared his throat, and took a sip from a small glass of water.

"Also, it is the Party's firm belief that corporations should be kept under strict control, to avoid the common situation where the corporations control the state, as is seen all around the world. Some of the more important businesses, such as arms manufactoring and insurance companies are directly controlled by the economic branch of the Party."

Sjödin shuffled about with the papers again, taking a moment before finding the one that he was looking for.

"Sorry about that. Diplomatically, the Party is eager to expand our influence through trade, alliances and other forms of cooperation, mainly with nations with a political and economical situations resembling our own, but also with nations which are different from our own in terms of culture, to enrich our understandig of the world. The Party feels that globalization is a good thing, if preformed at a reasonable rate."

He gave his papers one last glance.

"Yes, that should be the main points of FC-Democratism. Any questions about our policies?"

OOC:
*bump awaiting response*

Thaddeus looks over the papers briefly. "As nations, we will surely define crime differently. To Vastiva, a crime is that which infringes on the person or property of another - we have no consensual crime as a result, which has lead to some... fascinating methods of acquiring captialization."

Riva suddenly speaks up. "What did happen to the Vinostravians? The leadership, I mean. Were they wiped out, deported?" She blinks. "And how do you have Democratic Communism? The two would seem to be counterpoint to each other."

She sits back, twirling an errant bit of hair, deep in thought.

Thaddeus shakes his head. "Apologies. She is occasionally a bit... flighty when things occur to her."

Randall stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"That is indeed an interesting approach to the definition of crime. And it works well for you?"

"Maybe we've been a bit unclear", Sjödin began, rather animatedly. "The FCD hasn't any kind of 'democratic communism'. In fact, the Party clearly dislikes the wasteful policies of communism, not only because of the way the communists within the Federation works to topple our government. The policies of the Party are actually quite difficult to place on a right-left scale, and rightly so. Even if they could, they would most likely be more rightist then leftist overall."

"Sjödin is right. Say, would you like to tell us a bit about the Vastivan policies? We have all read what the dossiers say, of course, but we'd love to hear your views on them." Randall looked more courteous than ever.

"You should see the revenues from pharmaceuticals alone," chuckles Thaddeus. "And of course, you can't sue the company that supplied it, provided what they supplied is what they say they supplied in toto. Keeps the courts clean. The side effect of killing the stupid has its own... bonuses."

Riva says something in about eight to ten languages, with a very strange accent to Thaddeus.

"That's 'communalism' you're thinking of," he replies in English.

"Oh." She goes back to twirling her hair.

"Which policies were you interested in? Or a generalist overview in comparison to what you have shown us already? I must say, the more we hear, the more I can see our Sultan will be most interested in formalizing trade relations at the very least."

"Tourism." adds Riva, still twirling. "Lots of good buildings."

"Ah. Yes. And tourism."

"Ah, a simple overview of your policies in general would be quite sufficient", Randall smiled. "I must say the similarities we've seen so far bodes well for future cooperation between our nation. I suggest we get down to discussing what our nations can do for each other in just a moment."

Thaddeus nods. "The basis of Vastivan Law is Self-Responsibility. We believe you are free to do whatever you want to yourself or your property, but your rights end where they intersect someone elses self or property. Of course, our Sultan owns 50.1% of all businesses directly, along with all of Vastiva, which makes many things seen as misdemenors elsewhere as felonies in Vastiva.

"We do not, for example, legislate against jaywalking. Equally, if you jaywalk, it is seen as your own problem if you are struck. In this, we give to the people all their essential freedoms. And with those freedoms come the responsibilities of living with the results. It did clear the courts.

"At what you would call the 'Federal Level', there is our Sultan - he is penultimate, and unchallenged. Therefore, we do not worry about Communism, or Theocracy, or any other government system attempting to take over - it is not possible. There is, quite simply, no way to that level.

"As self-responsibility is the basis of law, we do not seek to interfere in the internal activities of other nations - of course, should such actions interfere with the workings of other nations, particularly Vastiva or her allies, we would then have a reason to interfere, if we chose."

Riva whispers something, still twirling her hair.

"Ah, yes, what we can do. Our people are gourmets; new foodstuffs and new preparation methods are always wished. My counterpart mentioned tourism. And Vastiva has extensive publishing facilities, both hard and soft if you include our information technology departments."

He smiles. "Easily, we could become long and fruitful partners."

"Ah." Sjödin glanced briefly at a sheet of paper, and looked very pleased. "Our nations policies seem to compliment each other nicely, in fact."

"They do indeed", Randall said. "So, the Federation's main industry is its arms manufactoring, which is directly controlled by the state. It specializes in small arms, assault rifles, body armour and the like. We also have quite a decent information technologies industry. I believe there would be a mutual interest in tourism as well as foodstuffs. Maybe we could even establish some form of cultural exchange program, seeing as our nations has very different culture and climate. I believe the Party would be quite interested in such a prospect."

"We will gladly sponsor a student exchange as well, the better to get to know your people."

"Then it is agreed. We'll have our staff prepare the arrangement as soon as possible." Randall paused for a moment. "So, what deals do you think could be made regarding trade?"

The two looked at each other briefly.

"Vastiva will import as much cheese as you care to export to us. We have a large market available for such. We will gladly export a variety of tropical fruits from our colonies.

"It might be suggestable for our information technology industries to go into direct competition with each other, resulting in a net gain for both with the competition as the stimulus.

"We would also ask for rights to acquire your literature and other works for distribution abroad. We have a protected market in our region and other areas - in return, FCD gets a share of net profits.

"Our colonies are looking for armaments designed for their regions; we will give FCD preferential treatment in the procurement of such, if you display arms which can fit the bill.

"There is then the matter of cultural exchange, displays for museums, speakers, teachers, that sort of thing." Thaddeus smiles. "We can work out the details later."

"Indeed." Randall nodded slightly. "Your proposals all seem very well, and I'm sure that our respective diplomatic staffs will work out the details most agreeably. We will forward all necessary details to the appropriate departments here in the Federation, and see to it that you are provided with all information necessary."

There was a short silence, Sjödin cleared his throat, but said nothing.

"There was one more matter which I was asked to bring before you." Randall stroked the back of his neck. "Some of our military advisors suggested that a military cooperation might be beneficial for both of us. The FCD's armed forces' main focus is our elite special operation divisions, as our military relies heavily on covert activites and other operations between enemy lines. Even if you don't agree to a full scale military alliance, maybe a joint training program or wargames some time in the future isn't out of the question?"

Randall took a sip from his glass of water. For a moment, he almost looked like he was blushing, as if he had just come up with some sort of indecent proposal.

"Gladly. Our concentration is in naval assets, but we are always happy to help."

Randall nodded. "What are your thoughts on a defensive alliance? If one of our nations should come under attack, the other will come to their aid. We could, if need arises, call upon each other if we need help abroad, with no strings attached, of course. Also, we'd complement this with a joint training program where our troops can learn from each other's experience. Our different focuses could compliment each other nicely, I think. We'll leave the details to the ministries of our governments best suited to the task, of course. So, what do you think?"

Randall nodded. "What are your thoughts on a defensive alliance? If one of our nations should come under attack, the other will come to their aid. We could, if need arises, call upon each other if we need help abroad, with no strings attached, of course. Also, we'd complement this with a joint training program where our troops can learn from each other's experience. Our different focuses could compliment each other nicely, I think. We'll leave the details to the ministries of our governments best suited to the task, of course. So, what do you think?"

There is a pause.

"We are not opposed to it, though we note this would not include actions where one of us is the original aggressor or in support of the aggressor nation. Vastiva will also not violate its other agreements, meaning if there was the possibility for a conflict of interest, we would declare ourselves neutral to both sides and take no part.

"Joint training - of course. We know much of polar and arctic operations we would gladly share."

"Of course. Your sentiments are most agreeable. The alliance itself shall be a strictly defensive one, and neither nations needs to feel any obligation to aid when the other part is the agressor or in support of the agressor nation, or in case of a conflict of interest. That about sums up the basic terms, doesn't it? So, have we reached an agreement?"

"On base terms, of course."

Riva immediately 'wakes up' and stops twirling her hair. "Sightseeing?"

Randall chuckled slightly.

Sjödin smiled. "Yes, now that we've got the most pressing issues out of the way, there will indeed be time for some sightseeing in our proud capitol. We have full authority to show you more or less anything you want to see, even some of our military resources if that would interest you."

"Among the sights we recommend we have the Party HQ, the Goldhawk building, which you saw on the way here, the Political Dome, and the Senyov Cathedral.", one of the aides explained. "These are some of the most popular attractions among common tourists, but you might have some more specialized interests in mind."

Riva sighs dramaticly, a cat smile on her lips. "All of it. Sounds delightful... will there be postcards?"

Sjödin smiled amusedly. "Yes, postcards will be avaliable, in fact..."

Without warning the door opened, and four armed soldiers entered the room. The aides as well as Sjödin's assistant rose to their feet, while, the two other men remained seated. The guards made a quick but thorough body search of the men, and then gestured to the Vastivans to stand up. Sjödin waved his hands in a dismissive manner.

"It's alright, there is no need to check them.", he said.

Two of the soldiers looked at each other briefly, and then nodded. The one on the left went outside, and said "It's clear.". Two more soldiers, entered the room, and one of them spoke up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, comrades of the Federation, friends from Vastiva, rise and greet comrade Leon Vladimirovich Covski, Partyleader of the FCD!"

All the men in the room rose to attention, putting their heels together, and raising the right hand beside their head in the formal Party salute.

Covski entered the room, a not too tall man with dark blonde hair and thin glasses strolled into the room. He was somewhat casually dressed in a black shirt, with an black tie. Around his left arm, he wore the white Party armband.

He smiled. "At ease", he said. The other men seemed to relax slightly, lowering their hands, but everybody remained standing. Despite his friendly manners, the athmosphere still seemed distinctly less laid-back than it had been only minutes ago.

They both stand and give formal bows.

"Ab-shalom and greetings, Partyleader Leon Vladimirovich Covski. I am
Thaddeus Noordi al-Naaman al-Kava and this is my counterpart, Rima Mokotoff al-Ruqayyah. Vastiva is most pleased to be made welcome in your nation."

"I am very pleased to meet you both", Covski said, shaking both their hands in turn. "Have you enjoyed your stay so far?"

As he spoke, a small camera team entered the room.

"Ah, let us do the handshaking again, for the camera this time", Covski said, smiling. "The people love these kind of photos, as arranged as they may be. We will of course provide your media with copies."

The cameramen did their work, and after getting their shots of handshaking, smiling and making pleasantries, they left. Covski nodded.

"So, please tell me, what are your impressions of the Federation so far? Don't, be shy, tell the truth." Covski chuckled slightly, and smiled, amusedly.

"I am very pleased to meet you both", Covski said, shaking both their hands in turn. "Have you enjoyed your stay so far?"

As he spoke, a small camera team entered the room.

Riva perked up first "Yes, the room was lovely, and you have so many interesting buildings for..."



"Ah, let us do the handshaking again, for the camera this time", Covski said, smiling. "The people love these kind of photos, as arranged as they may be. We will of course provide your media with copies."


"Of course, of course."
*smiles set just so*



The cameramen did their work, and after getting their shots of handshaking, smiling and making pleasantries, they left. Covski nodded.

"So, please tell me, what are your impressions of the Federation so far? Don't, be shy, tell the truth." Covski chuckled slightly, and smiled, amusedly.

Riva beamed. "Your architecture is absolutely first rate. It would be a great honor to see more of it, particularly from the inside."

This gets a chuckle. "Your pardon, that is most of her interest. We have seen very little of your nation, mostly soldiers, a crowd. To see more would be... educational, particularly those areas of cultural interest." He smiles again, gives a slight bow. "Apologies, we have something of... a fascination with the cultures of other nations. Art exchanges are the norm in our nation, particularly those of many colors, or deep aesthetic value."

"Oh yes, and to see your manufacturing plants, your factories, perhaps a school?" Riva is absolutely impulsive; at a glance from Thaddeus, she takes a sip of tea.

"Ah, of course." Covski nodded. "William, I'm certain you'll be able to put together a tour of the capital to satisfy our guest's interests, will you not?"

"Oh, I'm sure we will.", Sjödin assured him. "My thought was that we'd start around the HQ area, showing off the museum of fine arts and the Party University. Oh, and the HQ building, of course. After that, we could take them to the Military sector, where we have some factories that may interest them, and maybe give them a show of our Armed Forces. And of course, we'll cover the main tourist attractions that may be of interest."

"That sounds like it should cover a full day of sightseeing, yes. But, it is probably them who should approve of the schedule, not me. Heh, I mean, not everybody enjoys being led around the city for a whole day because of some whim of a Partyleader in a far away nation." Covski smiled.

"Heh, of course not", William chuckled. "Does this seem alright with you?", he asked, looking at the Vastivans.

"Oh! Please, we are most happy to be guests of your nation, to see what you have available to see. We endeavor to keep our askances small, the better to have them fulfilled at this time."

Riva puts down her glass and continues. "Vastiva is interested in trade, and tourism. As such, we need see what they will see when they arrive."

She looks a moment at Thaddeus. "Oh yes, and shopping."

Thaddeus rolls his eyes to the ceiling, but says nothing.

Covski smiled. "Heh, yes. See to it, William. My friends, I would be thrilled if you would join me for dinner here in the Ministry in about two hours or so, I believe that there is a lot that we have to discuss."

Both of their eyes perk at the sound of being invited to eat.

"We most certainly thank you for the invitation. We only request the ability to change before dinner, as most certainly our attire will have... met with use after our tours."

OOC: More information about Vastiva and Vastivans (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=366388) if I haven't given you this already. I think the bottom entry is relevant.

OOC: Ah, thanks for that link. A very interesting read.

IC:

Covski checked his watch. "The dinner will be in two hours, in the diplomatic ministry dining hall, I'm sure William or someone else will be pleased to show you the way. Randall, how is your schedule for the guests?"

Randall thought for a moment, looking at some papers. "I think... I think we'll take the tours first thing tomorrow morning, so that leaves our guests with a bit of free time before the dinner. We've just a few details to clear up here."

"Very well. I'll be expecting you for dinner then. Au revoir." Covski walked to the door, and everyone rose and saluted him before he left, taking the soldiers with him.

"He his quite a remarkable man, Covski.", Sjödin explained with respect in his voice. "He went through quite a lot of hardships leading the resistance against the Vinostravian government. I wasn't around at the time, but I hear it was really bad at times. That man has had more friends killed than one man should ever have to, but that hasn't changed him. A great person."

"He really has quite immense power within the Federation.", Randall added.

"Ah, anyway. Have you any special requests for the dinner, allergies, dislikes? Just tell us, we'll have it forwarded to the chefs." Sjödin asked, sounding unsually eager to please.

"No allergies. Either of us." Thaddeus thought a moment. "No great dislikes I can think of offhand."

"Cultural." Riva clicked. "It has to be cultural. After all," - she smiled at Thaddeus, who was giving her a look - "it would be part of our duties to see what the FCD has to offer, would it not?

"Would it be possible to get some stills of him, a history or two, some documentations for publication? Vastiva has a protected area of distribution, and we have oft found biographies to be large sellers in some areas." She returned a smile to Thaddeus. "We might see a view or two, is it sunset yet?"

"Oh, I think our Comrade Partyleader will be most helpful if it is literature you want." Sjödin smirked. "He's written quite a biography about the years he fought the Vinostravian government. A really powerful book, Covski is quite a fine writer."

Randall looked at his watch. "Sunset should be in about twenty minutes or so, we could get a brilliant view of the city from..."

As he spoke, a fat man in a suit entered the room. Sjödin made a sound, not loudly, but clearly displeased. Randall stroked his forehead, clearing his throat. The man promptly walked over to the table and took a seat, looking eagerly at the Vastivans. There was a short unconfortable silence, before Sjödin spoke up.

"This is Patrick Poyle, minister of trade." He looked at the Vastivans, then glanced down at a paper "This is Thaddeus Noordi el-Naman el-Kavaa, and Rima Mokotoff el-Ruqyah", he explained, struggling with the pronounciation of the foreign names. "Er, sorry if I got your names wrong."

Poyle was quite skilled at his work, managing and administrating trade routes, maximizing profits and solving logistical problems. Unfortunatly, he was quite lacking in the social department, not really rude, but extraordinarily boring, and he really had quite an amazing ability to believe that everyone around him were simply dying to hear what he had to say. These two characteristics made him the kind of person that all good hosts aspired to keep away from their guests.

"Ah, you are very welcome in the Federation", Poyle began. "But I'm sure you knew that already." The fat man chuckled. "You have begun discussing terms of trade already, right?"

"Poyle, we..." Sjödin began, but was interrupted.

"I really hope you have considered importing our cheeses, our cheese export is quite a large one, among the top 7000 nations in the entire world. An interesting fact is that the income from cheese exports last year increased by over 28.9%, while the amount exported only increased by about 8.9%. You, see this difference is because the new trade system inplemented by..."

"Actually, Patrick, I think we...", Randall tried, but the man just kept on talking. The aides all looked bored out of their skulls, Sjödin seemed very bothered, stroking his forehead thereby covering most of his face with his hands. Randall was annoyed, his patience was running out. Poyle wasn't very good at reading the signs.

"... and after that, we immidiately went on search to establish ourselves in new markets. Heh, it turned out that 6.5 % of the population within the Federation had never heard of..."

"Poyle, we have to..." Sjödin said, but no avail.

"...so, comparing 10% here, and another 6% there, we decided at once to divert a full 20% of our budgeting to public relations, for an extended period of 3 quarters of a year. Much to everyones suprise, sales to companies alone increased by 35% in the first 7 months! Can you believe it!? So, we immidiatly took 7% of the new income and repeated the process, and..."

"Oh my god... Eight minutes, and still going strong...", Sjödin said to himself.

They both smile at the pronounciations. "If it pleases, referring to us as Thaddeus and Riva is functional."

As the minister drones onward, strangely, both Thaddeus and Riva sit with wrapt attention, hanging on each word Patrick says. Someone entering the room might swear he was the most profound lecturer in the known world.

"Pardon me, Minister, but with the 14.2% growth in domestic production, would that perhaps be able to be diverted to Vastiva, at wholesale cost with Vastiva absorbing the costs of transport, giving us a net cost of AWP-6%, to be paid quarterly upon delivery? Or would a payment per annum at AWP-6%, with a moderate interest of..."

"2% standard, minus holding fee." chimes in Riva.

"Of 2% standard, minus holding fee, be more to your advantage? It is, of course, our interest to drastically increase your cheese exports."

"Then there is packaging costs."

"Ah, yes, indeed, forgive me for the oversight. Would FCD absorb the repackaging in weather-resistant transportation containers, or would Vastiva be eligible for a discount, say to a level of AWP-7%, giving a percentage to expenses in view of our climate?"

Randall and Sjödin looked at each other with expressions could all most be described by disbelief.

"They are actually... ...interested?", Sjödin said to himself.

The two, completely unprepared fo this reaction weren't quite sure what to do. The usual policy was to keep Poyle away from any visitors with most means possible, but when the visitors in fact seemed interested? They weren't sure, but they let Poyle keep on talking for a few more minutes. Finally, Sjödin decided enough was enough.

"Excuse me", he said, interrupting Poyle's extremely well thought out argument on the superiority of subventionizing local transportation companies when attempting to export dry foodstuffs outside the immidiate region. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but unless we head for the roof soon, we'll miss the sunset. You don't get to see a sunset every day." He smiled, though he feared that his desperation to shut Poyle up was showing.

Randall and Sjödin looked at each other with expressions could all most be described by disbelief.

"They are actually... ...interested?", Sjödin said to himself.

The two, completely unprepared fo this reaction weren't quite sure what to do. The usual policy was to keep Poyle away from any visitors with most means possible, but when the visitors in fact seemed interested? They weren't sure, but they let Poyle keep on talking for a few more minutes. Finally, Sjödin decided enough was enough.

"Excuse me", he said, interrupting Poyle's extremely well thought out argument on the superiority of subventionizing local transportation companies when attempting to export dry foodstuffs outside the immidiate region. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but unless we head for the roof soon, we'll miss the sunset. You don't get to see a sunset every day." He smiled, though he feared that his desperation to shut Poyle up was showing.

Riva stood up immediately.

Thaddeus, on the other hand - "Would you go over that bit you said about the amortization rate being carried forward to the next period under negative growth fiscal conditions? Do you mean of the contract, the signee, or the signatory?"

"Usually of the contract, but we sometimes, depending on circumstances, decide that if the annual loss in the specified area is larger than..."

"Fascinating", Sjödin interrupted. "But I'm afraid you'll have to resume your discussion at a later time, as we have other matters to attend to right now. I assure you, there will be ample time to discuss amortization and human resources-paradigms later on during your stay."

"Ah well." Poyle sighed. "You have quite a bit of interesting points, I'll be sure to forward some of them to the ministry. I'd be delighted to speak with you some other time."

With these words, he rose and left the room. Sjödin drew a sigh of what might possibly have been some form of relief.

"Now then, to see the sunset?" Sjödin smiled.

"Usually of the contract, but we sometimes, depending on circumstances, decide that if the annual loss in the specified area is larger than..."

"Fascinating", Sjödin interrupted. "But I'm afraid you'll have to resume your discussion at a later time, as we have other matters to attend to right now. I assure you, there will be ample time to discuss amortization and human resources-paradigms later on during your stay."

"Ah well." Poyle sighed. "You have quite a bit of interesting points, I'll be sure to forward some of them to the ministry. I'd be delighted to speak with you some other time."

With these words, he rose and left the room. Sjödin drew a sigh of what might possibly have been some form of relief.

"Now then, to see the sunset?" Sjödin smiled.

Thaddeus blinks as if breaking a trance, stands, smiles embarrasedly, finishes his tea in a gulp and says "Of course. Lead on."

OOC:
I'm painfully busy at the moment. Will post again tomorrow, promise.

OOC:
I'm painfully busy at the moment. Will post again tomorrow, promise.

OOC: Not a problem, take your time - this is fun and wellwritten!

Sjödin smiled again, opening the door and leading the guests out in the hallway. He lead them on through the hallway, back to the stairs, accompanied by Randall as well as one of the soldiers. They walked up the stairs to the fifth floor, the across the hall, opening a door fittingly labled "To the roof", which revealed a spiral staircase leading upwards.

Another door was opened, and they all exited unto the roof, a large flat area surrounded by a high enough wall to prevent accidents. The roof was clearly designed as some form of social area, evidenced by the presence of benches and small tables with matching chairs, perfect for somewhat informal events.

Even though they were no more than six or seven floors up, the fact that the entire Diplomatic aera was located on top of a rather high hill granted them a better view of the city than could be expected, fitting for a much taller building. A frisk wind was blowing, but it was still not really cold outside. The sun had almost begun to set.

The capital, Citadel, was without doubt most beautiful in the sunset. The sun, by now quite red, shone over the structures of the city, which were mostly white or made of glass. This made the scene rather breathtaking, as the red sun reflected marvellously in the magnificent glass building, their shine being increased even more by the whiteness of the structures surrounding them. The city looked more remarkably clean and proper than ever. Orderly, pure. Almost sterile in a way.

Sjödin couldn't help but to feel proud. It was a sight he had seen many times before, but he never ceased to be amazed by the beauty of the reflecting sun in what looked like a world of mirrors.

Both delegates respectfully take in the view, Riva making astonishingly arousing coo-ing noises as the display continues.

Mindlessly, both of their M-TCODs record the view.... transmissions back and forth... all the chatter of the city below.

"*sighs* I wish more people could see this view." Riva smiles at Sjödin, "Its rather a perfect place for an interlude."

"Ah, it is indeed." Sjödin smiles back at Riva. "I can't help it, I just love this view. Heh, I've probably spent more time wtaching the sunsets here than I should. Unfortunatly, I'm not paid to look at sunsets."

Sjödin ran his fingers through his hair, again looking at the view.

"Ah, it is indeed." Sjödin smiles back at Riva. "I can't help it, I just love this view. Heh, I've probably spent more time wtaching the sunsets here than I should. Unfortunatly, I'm not paid to look at sunsets."

Sjödin ran his fingers through his hair, again looking at the view.

Her smile grows warmer. "That is too bad. In Vastiva, sunsets - and sunrises - do not happen so frequently. Indeed, we do hire artists to capture moments for all to enjoy. Some of the artistry is rather sophisticated, though there are still some problems with some of the more... outlandish ideas. Still.. to view the setting sun remains somewhat of a marker. We find this begins a period of clannishness, togetherness, closer bindings. After Laandsfall, it was a geothermally heated lake, the ability to fish, and to adapt, which kept our ancestors alive through their first winter. They were very unfortunate - the sun did not rise for five months, and many went mad, or believed they were in hell. But those who survived...."

A tear forms.

"Many apologies, it is an emotional subject."

Riva's emotionality rendered Sjödin rather lost for words for a short moment, unsure of how to handle it. This was not a situation he had proper training for, and he supposed he had better handle it as professionally as possible.

"It's... It's alright, Riva. I understand. Living in darkness like that, not knowing when it's going to end, it must be... ...unbearable." Sjödin sighed. "I understand, I... I think I do. There was a lot of pain involved when the Federation was formed too, especially the period before. But I like to think that the past is only a path leading to were we are today. And today, we are looking at a beautiful sunset."

He sighed again, looking away over the sunset. That was not the professionalism he had had in mind.

She wipes away the tear, her mood warming the air.

"And tomorrow, there will be a sunrise, will there not? And again, the city will dance. Do you dance?"'

Thaddeus studiously ignores all the goings on, watching the play of light on buildings with an artists eye.

Again, Sjödin was suprised.

"Dance? Er, no, I don't really dance." Sjödin laughed softly. "Not really many diplomats of the Federation dance very often, as far as I know. A shame." He smiled warmly, more warmly than strictly necessary.

Meanwhile, Randall stood a fair bit away, not seeming to take notice of his younger colleague, appearing to think deeply about something.

"A shame. It is part of all our schooling that we learn, the better to teach our reactions and our body awareness. And it is fun...." she lets her voice fade, still watching Sjödin closely, a smile on her face.

Thaddeus clears his throat as the final rays vanish into the night. "We shall have to make sure such things are viewable from our embassy - they will certainly be a worthwhile experience. Randall, are we on time with our itinerary?"

Randall checked his watch.

"Approximately one hour and fifteen minutes to your dinner with Covski. Yes, we should probably let you return to your rooms to freshen up for for a while. Right, William?"

Sjödin, who was still smiling at Riva, twitched slightly and blinked as if he had just awokened. Glancing quickly at is wristwatch, he nodded.

"Yes, of course. I'll accompany you back to your rooms.", Sjödin said, making a gesture towards the stairway down.

Randall again turned to look at the city at night, and made some kind of quiet indistinguishable sound.

Riva winked at him. "Did you wish to follow or lead?"

Thaddeus rolled his eyes. "I think I shall tarry a moment, then follow."

When Sjödin and Riva are gone, Thaddeus mutters "Ah, to be young..."

As Sjödin and Riva left, Randall turned around, looking at the stairs down which they had just disappeared. He laughed quietly.

"Heh, the youth. And this is how the policies of the world are formed?" He smirked, shaking his head slightly.

At the same time, Sjödin and Riva were walking down the stairs. Once more, Sjödin wasn't quite certain what to say. Finally, he decided that he had to say something, thsi was what he was trained for, after all. Almost.

"You know, being invited to dine with the Partyleader, it's quite an honour. And to be invited by him personally, that is incredibly unusual. I've only seen it happen once or twice before. He must... He must have really enjoyed meeting with you." He became silent.

They had just entered the small garden in the middle of the compund. It was dimly illuminated by lampposts along the path. The evening breeze was blowing through the evergreen trees, making a relaxing sound.

"If that is the case, I am most unsure of what we did to deserve such an honor. But it shall be treated as such an honor, nonetheless."

Below, Riva continued to make eyes at Sjödin. "Will you be coming to dine? And indeed, will you be part of the contingent once the embassy is established? It would indeed make life here more... friendly." She gives another smile, leaning slightly into his answer.

Sjödin kept smiling back at Riva.

"Ah, no, unfortunatly I don't think I will be joining for the dinner, but I'll make sure to meet you afterwards. To discuss the activities of tomorrow, of course. I'm quite certain I'll remain with your embassy once it has been properly established, in one way or another. Anything to make your stay here more... ...enjoyable." He made a friendly gesture with his right arm, and unnoticably moved slightly closer to Riva.

*takes his arm*

"Another day, perhaps?"

"Another day, for sure."

Sjödin quite enjoyed the sudden closeness to Riva. They had now reached the Vastivans door, a soldier was standing guard, looking exeptionally uninterested. Sjödin turned around to face Riva.


Meanwhile Randall was still standing on the roof. He cleared his throat, turning to Thaddeus.

"I must say, I am quite pleased with the progress we've done today. I am certain that this cooperation between our nations will prove most profitable for both of us."

"That it should," Thaddeus smiled into the darkness, "particularly in our exchanges."

He looked at his opposite. "We have a few minutes before we must return. It does appear the peace is stable here."


Riva leaned up, lifting her chin towards him. "A wonderful evening, though brief indeed. Perhaps it should end... properly?" And she smiled again, her eyelashes fluttering.

Randall chuckled. "The peace here is probably the most stable thing in all of the Federation, and rightly so. Very well. We should probably get going, I'm certain you have to prepare before your dinner with the Partyleader." He made a nondescript gesture towards the stairs.

"It's been a far more enjoyable day than expected, indeed." Sjödin smiled again. Placing his hand on Rivas cheek, he gently pulled her face closer to him. He slowly moved closer to her, and planted a soft kiss on her lips. He looked deeply into her eyes for a moment before moving away from her. "I look forward to seeing you after dinner."

At the same time, preparations for the morning were being made all over the city.

Captain Jeremy Parker, 3rd Nightwolf Legion, was sitting on a chair in his pack's barracks cleaning his handgun, and feeling unusually pleased with himself. During the day, he had personally finished the pack's alloted share of enforcing the SFSA, without much trouble at all. Sure, one man, a young communist named Woodman, had been exeptionally unwilling today, had had given one of his soldiers a pretty nasty gunshot wound in the thigh. But, as Parker saw it, if no one dies, it's a job well done.

As usual, whenever he was in a pleasant mood, Major Hertford entered. Noticing this, Parker made an unhappy kind of sound, but the major didn't seem to hear him.

"Major.", Parker sighed.

"Captain Parker, you will recieve guests tomorrow.", the Major said, without any form of pleasantries.

"Guests or 'guests'?", Parker asked him, raising his eyebrows.

"Guests. Diplomats from Vastiva, or so I've understood. They are to be taken on a tour of the city and you, Parker, are obviously one of the attractions. That is, they are to get a peek of our military resources, and you and your men have been chosen to represent the Nightwolves."

"With all due respect Major, my duties hardly include guided tours of..."

"It does not matter. All you need to do it tell the about what your duties actually are, your equipment, etcetera. I believe all the information you need is in here." He handed Parker a folder.

"Right. Of course, Major." Parker sounded more than a bit sarcastic.

"Parker, I hardly need to stress the importance of your mission tomorrrow. See to it that you and your men are in the best shape possible. Right. Good luck, then."

Parker tried to say something, but the Major simply turned and walked away. Parker swore. Every time something went right, something like this came up. Giving a tour as if this was some kind of museum? Bah! Opening the folder, he gathered his men. A mission was a mission, after all.

The bone-combs and backlighting caused Riva to shine as she replied "Of course. The question is, how much?" She winked and went into her room.

Thaddeus nodded. "As you wish, as you wish. It was a nice private moment."

He said nothing else as he returned to his room, and changed.

When Sjödin was returning to his office,he met Randall who was waiting in the hallway, smirking at him.

"Why, William, I didn't know seduction of foreign diplomatic staff was among your duties. Maybe you should ask for a raise?", Randall said.

"Oh, shut up, you dirty old man.", Sjödin replied jokingly, and Randall laughed.

"Of course. Just don't let these antics disturb your misson, right?"

"In fact, there...", Sjödin began, as Peter Lebov entered the room. One of his associates, as well as closest friends in the diplomatic staff, he knew Lebov as a witty man, perhaps to witty for his own good.

"Ah, the youth...", Lebov said mockingly, despite the fact that he was about a year younger than Sjödin. "To be young and free, unfettered by the grueling demands of Real Life. Ah."

"Look here, mate, I'm...", Sjödin was interrupted by his friend once more.

"Red - I feel my soul on fire. Black - My world if she's not there. Red - The colour of desire. Black - The colour of despair.", Lebov recited.

"I was... Eh. What was that all about?". Sjödin was now a bit confused.

"Ah, don't you know your musicals?", Lebov asked, as if musicals was a part of basic diplomatic training. "'Les Miserables, Red and Black'. Enjolras and the students are planning their revolution when Marius enters, all preoccupied thinking about some bourgeoise girl he just met. I don't know why I thought of it, I just..."

Sjödin laughed. "I really hate you, you know that. I haven't got time for this. I have phonecalls to make. For the tour tomorrow.", he added after a glance from Randall.

As he walked away, he could hear Lebov whistling behind him, and he smiled slightly. Stupid musicals.

{the following spoken in Vastivan, which sounds like several Romance languages being eaten by a cat fed backwards through a blender} *

"How did it go?"
"Not badly. He is a good kisser. I wonder if the rest works?"
"I'm sure you'll find out."
"Brat. I'm going to have a shower."
"Wear something nice, he's a leader of a nation."
"Mmmmm... conservative, liberal, or vavavoom?"
"Conservative in that Francesca way."
"Ah, letch you are. Very well. But I prefer Sjödin. Maybe some late night trysts, trading documents in broom closets over a shared stick of gum..."
"You read too many bad novels."
"I read too much now?"
"And later."
"Git."
"What of the reports we have?"
"So far, nothing, but not much is expected. At least not yet. It will be interesting looking at a military unit."
"Armor would be a nice change."
"True. Most likely, infantry though. Maybe they will be cute, yes?"
"Perhaps. Bring treats."



*not really, its a pidgin of most known languages, a metaphoric language, and a pain to boot.

Covski was getting ready for dinner. He was currently sitting in the lounge, eyeing through a folder of security reports. Personally, he wasn't overly concerned, though several members of his staff were. Covski had a remarkable ability to be unbothered by whuat others considered to be problems, knowing that it would work out in the end. He took a sip of whiskey.

The dinner itself wasn't overly important, what mattered was that the Federation would look just like the open and democratic nation it wasn't. It was all a matter of emotion. To make someone emotionally attached to someone or something was to make them vulnerable, and thereby useful. Diplomacy was an act, a game. Covski's expertise was playing this game using psychology. He chuckled as he remembered what his old friend Fredin Napov always used to say. 'Leon, the psyche is not a toy.'

He looked up as a soldier opened the door and saluted.

"Comrade Partyleader, the dinner is about to begin. We've sent a man to pick up the Vastivans."

"Very well. I am quite hungry, in fact."

He stood up, locking the folder into a small safe before following the soldier to the dining hall. This would be most enjoyable.

Riva had taken Thaddeus' advice and poured herself into a wine-purple gown, illuminted in strategic areas with hints of gold thread, woven in patterns to bedazzle the eye and catch the attention. She took a look at Thaddeus' minimalist tuxedo and sniffed.

"At least you could have tried."
He snorted. "Over the years, I've learned better, my dear. How is the reception?"
"Good to Very Good."
He nodded. "The drone is going to see if it can pick up anything while we're gone, though I doubt anyone will be beaming anything directly at this room."
"One never knows. God could be talking."
That got another laugh. "If he does, he snickers alot."

At the knock at their door, they came out, smiles and simplicity.

A pair of soldiers, as ususal dressed in their white uniform complete with face covering masks escorted them to the dining hall, amlost without any words at all. They opened the door to the room, and ushered them in. The hall was, much like all other rooms in the Ministry sparsely decorated. The banners, the potted evergreens, a few photos. A beautiful chandelier hung over a nice mahogany table, and the wooden chairs with white upholstery looked comfortable enough.

Covski was standing up at the end of the table, holding a cellular phone in his hand. He smiled at the Vastivans, making a gesture inviting them to sit down. Excusing himself, he then began to talk on the phone in what appeared to be Swedish.

"Richard, min vän, jag är övertygad om att du har viktiga saker att tala om, men mina gäster har anlänt, det är middag. Vastivierna, ja. Heh, såklart du inte gör, det gör du aldrig." He again made a excusing gesture. "Nå, jag har ingen anledning att misstänka något än så länge, men om du känner behovet kan du sätta några Shad... Eh, skuggrävar, på dem. Du har redan gjort det? Hah!" He raised his eyebrows. "Nåväl, vi får ta den här diskussionen efter utvärderingen... Jag menar middagen. Leve FCD!" With a quiet laugh, he hung up. He sat down and turned to the Vastivans.

"Please, do excuse my rudeness. I had a urgent call which apparantly couldn't wait. Now then, the waiters should arrive any moment. Tell me, how was your day? I imagine William did his outmost to make your day as... pleasurable as possible."

He smiled, carefully looking at both of the Vastivans for anything that could tell him something he might want to know. Or anything someone else didn't want him to know.

They both smiled at him. "Of course. Shall we?"

That no one had managed to tell anyone in FCD that knowing Vastivan gave you a penchant for languages was, well, their fault. And that the two M-TCODs recorded the goings on - particularly from the antenna wired into Riva's dress - just gave another opportunity to study later.

OOC:

For future reference etc, here's the translation of the conversation:

"Richard, my friend, I'm certain you have important matters to talk about, but my guests have arrived, dinnertime. The Vastivans, yes. Heh, of course you don't, you never do. Well, I haven't any reason to suspect anything so far, but if you feel the need, you can put some Sha... Er, shadowfoxes, on them. You already have? Hah! Very well, we'll have to take this discussion after the evaluation... I mean dinner. Long live the FCD!"

IC:

"I trust you have no complaints with the reception, so far?", Covski enquired, still smiling. "William is one of our most promising young talents in the Ministry, quite enthusiastic. He's actually being considered for a rather hefty promotion too, so I suppose this assignment is important to him."

The waiters arrived, placing a bowl of fresh looking salad in front of each of the persons at the table. Covski looked at it approvingly.

"Fresh salads with crutons and a dressing made with local herbs. Quite a nice starter, in my opinion.", Covski explained as the waiters proceeded to pour up glasses of water and and white wine which probably went great with the salad. "Ah, bon appetit.", Covski nodded as he sampled the starter.

"Ah. Young William has a bit of a... Bad background with the Party.", Covski said, returning to the earlier subject without apparent reason. "You see, his brother was... Executed during our time as a resistance in Vinostravia. On my very orders, too. His brother was pretty much spying on us, selling information to the government. We found him out, and we had to dispose of him. Of course, we couldn't abide treason. So, he got a bullet between the eyes. Horrible, but necessary." Covski took a sip of wine.

"Anyway, it's been said that William holds a bit of ill will towards the Party after this, but I'm not sure. I could understand if he did, certainly. Ah, politics never were beautiful, were they?"

After his long, rather unprovoked monolouge, he looked down and put more focus on his salad.

Thaddeus smiles and gives a slight nod. "An enemy of the state is an enemy of the state. Even if it is a state which has not yet been born."

A sip. "Marvelous! The undertone is just right with the vinagrette."

Riva tipped her empty glass at a waiter and continued to listen, watching Covski with feminine interest.

A waiter quickly and efficiently filled Riva's glass.

"There is a saying in the Party: 'Tolerance is the first step towards destruction'. This is true for almost everything, don't you think? That way, some people just have to die. Murderers, rapists, spies, rebels. Of course, a spy is only your enemy's tool for as long as he is undetected, then he becomes your tool. Or so they say. But, there is never certainty as long as human beings are involved. Therefore, it is better to be safe than sorry. Death is the answer."

He laughed quietly, as if he had said something amusing. He took another sip of wine, looking closely at his guests.

"There is a certain beauty in taking a life, think you not? The simplicity, with which a being is bereft of its existance? A creature which has spent a lifetime to become what it is, cleared away in a matter of seconds."

He smiled again, more warmly than could be expected by his sinister words.

"You are, of course, aware we are from a land where it is cold and dark for six months, and cold and light the other six. Persephone's realm, in a manner of speaking. Time there, and life and death become concepts, common enough to forget... or dismiss. There is always something more worthwhile. And loyalty is merely one of those things." She sips from her glass.

"Ah, yes. I find your country quite interesting, in fact. Would you mind telling me a bit more about its history? What in life would you say a Vastivan values the most?" Covski looked truly interested, leaning forward slightly and raising his eyebrows.

The waiters returned, removing the empty salad bowls.

Riva's smile caress touched the edge of her glass. "That is easy. Choice."

"Choice?" Covski smiled, playing with his fork. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"Certainly. Our legal system is based around the freedom to choose, and to accept responsibility for one's choice. Our language is a matter of choice, to better demonstrate by inflection or precise word. Our scholastics are a matter of guided choice, our work a matter of talent, skill, and choice. What we eat, where we eat it, what we wear - or do not - are all matters of choice. Everything in Vastiva bases on choice, and the freedom to choose most of all. Therefore," she took a sip, "what Vastiva values most, is choice."

"Fascinating." Covski nodded, remaining silent a few seconds. "The Federation, and the very principles of the FCD, relies upon cooperation and order, working together to achieve your goals. Our vision is freedom, within the boundraries of necessity. For example, everyone are born equal, at least with regards to rights, of course. Gender, nationality, class, it doesn't matter. Everybody has the right to live and be free, as far as needs permit. But, upon commiting crimes, trying to harm the society, and so on, you basically forfeit your rights. As you have then dismissed your chance to be a member of society, the Federation has no obligation to support you. And so, as you are no longer a part of the Federation, there can be no moral qualms about removing you."

Covski seemed a bit lost in thought, stabbing his napkin with his fork. After a couple of seconds, he again looked at his guest, smiling slightly.

"If you choose to commit a crime, would it not be appropriate to assume you have also chosen to accept the possible consequences of such an action? A criminal breaks into a house, he has accepted the possible consequence of being shot by the owner, of being beset by the guardians of that house, of possible incarceration and exposure?"

She smiles and, taking another sip, looks at Thaddeus. "This is a rather good vintage, we might look into procuring some for Sinjin."

"Of course, you could argue that choice is his, in a way. But, to discourage choices like this, which only result in damaging the state and the society, what better way is there than to make sure that there can only be one consequence? With death as the only possible outcome, who commits a crime? The Party believes that freedom of choice is great for a nation, as long as the choices taken don't harm the cooperation of the nation. You are free to make decisions that hurt yourself, but when they go beyond that, you will have to be stopped. Quite simple."

He gestured with his empty glass to the waiter, and it was promptly refilled.

"Even discouraged, the choice is his. Though it is a quite workable system."

"It is indeed. It is our belief that the people have the intelligence needed to make the right decisions, if given proper guidance. Alas, it would be unfair not to give them a few pointers here and there, wouldn't it?" He smirked.

He made a pause, as the waiters returned in force, serving up the main course of the dinner. They also reclaimed the wine glasses, instead offering them a red wine better fitting the sizeable pieces of meat on the plates.

"A steak of moose, served with fresh vegetables and baked potatoes with garlic butter. To that, a somewhat spicy mushroom sauce. I trust everything is satisfactory?", a tallish waiter inquired.

"It is.", Covski nodded. The waiters withdrew once again.

"I hope you'll enjoy this, some of the nation's finest specialties.", Covski smiled. "Now where were we? Ah yes, choice. In fact, I have often thought, many if not most or even all of the choices we make in life are illusions. Let me explain. Faced with any given situation, will a person ever do what his doesn't think is the best thing to do, given the circumstances? I think not. According to this theory, it could thusly be said that there is in fact some form of fate, as there is really only one viable path. If this is true, can someone really be blamed for the situation he is currently in, or for that matter, the choices he makes? What do you think?"

He took a small sip of wine, looking closely at his guests.

"We do not believe in fate," Thaddeus' voice was soft but clear throughout the room. "We believe in choice, and the responsibility of choice. Take this moment. You could serve a red wine, you could serve a white wine. Education and experience would say to you the red would usually be the superior choice. A talented chef could create a dish which favored white. All this goes to experience, and education. Both of which we are rather strongly in favor of in our nation."

"True. Of course, there is no such thing as fate, in the sense of the word. But, as you just said, choices made are made relating to your own experiences. We shape our own destiny, only that we do it long before we think the choices are actually made. The person who chose the wine wouldn't have chosen a white wine to the steak. Granted, this is because he knew better, because he was trained to know better. He knew better, because years ago, he decided to get the proper education. If he had rather been a soldier, based on experiences, he would have chosen a military education. His choice of education relates even further back to even earlier experiences. And so on. For every door you find stadning open, you close hundreds. And whenever you find a new door standing open, it's only because it was the only one not closed." He looked deeply into his glass of wine. "A brave little theory. Even if it isn't correct, the logic of it is certainly appealing to me."

Thaddeus smiles. "All is chosen, the results create ripples, the ripples create our lives. It fascinates that we say the same thing from two sides."

He does not add and you condescend to our entire way of life, you arrogant fool.

"Indeed. Mere perceptions, all of it. Such is life."

He studied a piece of his steak for a moment before eating it.

"Whether or not the 'fate'-theory is correct or not, it doesn't matter. I almost wish it was, in a way. If it was, a man's actions could be predicted, if the right information was avaliable to you. But alas, man remains as unpredictable and deceitful as ever. 'Human interaction is deception, the human mind is deceit.' A saying of an old friend. Oh, do forgive if my dystopian ramblings are boring you, ít's just an old habit from my time in the Resistance of Vinostravia."

He took another sip of wine, smiling to himself. This dinner interested him.

Both waited, watching, interested in their meals, but rather unsure of what to expect next.

Covski raised his eyebrows, prodding a potato with the fork.

"I must admit, those years in the resistance contained more betrayal and pain than I like to think about. But I strive to remain unchanged. And, if I may say so, I think I manage rather well. So well, in fact, that some call me a madman because of it. Some say that the pain turned me into a monster, a machine, devoid of emotion." He chuckled. "I promise you, it didn't. Those years told me that the most important things are to remain true to yourself, to remain in control of what's important to you, and knowing who to trust. I you can manage all three, you will live, and prosper." He frowned as he cut through a haricot vert. "But surely, my rambling monolouges must be boring you. It they are, I apologize."

He wanted to smile, but didn't. He felt he was having a much too good time.



***



At the same time, a young security technican was watching the live feed from the dinner, from the multiple hidden cameras in the room. The Partyleader's behavior slightly confused him, this was not the way he knew to act.

"What the hell is he doing...?", he asked himself.

"He's testing them.", a voice behind him answered, sternly.

Removing his headphones, the technican turned around to look at Richard Fredricson, Vice Partyleader and minister of Defence and Security. He was a large man, looking almost brutish in his unkempt demi-long hair and his dirty-looking beard. An old friend of Covski, a criminal, a gangleader at the time of the resistance. covski hadn't given him a high rank within the resistance or the Party because of his diplomatic or political prowess, but because of his ability to lead, and to some extent, to instill fear. Covski needed muscle, Fredricson had provided it.

"He always does this. He tries different methods in order to understand them. Their motives, their fears, their thoughts. After a dinner such as this, he usually has enough info to compile the better part of a psych profile."

"Does he suspect them of anything?", the technican asked, questioningly.

"Probably not. He enjoys doing it though, it's like a game to him. 'Covski, the psyche is not a toy.' Heh. Doesn't matter, get back to work.", Richard commanded, and the technican turned back to the screen.

Covski probably didn't expected anything, but Fredricson sure did. Of course, he always suspected everyone. Especially foreigners, such as these. And it didn't matter what Covski or anyone said, he wouldn't let them cause trouble. Not here. Not now. He reached for the phone.

"This is Fredricson. Are the SFX's in position? Good. Proceed with the cleaner routine. As usual. Let them leave a few signs, move around a few flowerpots, let a painting hang crooked, whatever. Just make sure a keen eye kan tell they've been there. Good." He hung up. He looked over the technican's shoulder, at the visitor's at the Partyleader's table. Oh no, they weren't going to cause any trouble if he could help it.

***

Riva smiled for him as Thaddeus tucked into the fine dinner. "Most assuredly, whatever topic the host brings up is of vast and deep interest to the guests, is it not so?"

Covski chuckled, amusedly.

"Heh, I'm not too sure about that. Ah, I fear the conversation has become a bit too heavy. Let us speak of more light-hearted matters. Say, what sports do you play in Vastiva?"

"Hockey, skating, skiing are, of course, rather easily engaged in. Our dome constructions allow for most ball games to be played, though only indoors."
Riva gives a slight chuckle at the jest. "I would suppose most any sport you could find anywhere would be found in Vastiva, with the exceptions of yachting and waterskiing, which could be easily lethal."

"Heh. Of course. I must say, I find how you manage to adapt to such extreme conditions quite astonishing. I'd like to see it myself some day. In the Federation, the main national sports are soccer in summer, and ice hockey in the winter. Maybe our teams could face each other some day?"

He smiled, and let his glass be refilled by one of the waiters.

As Covski spoke, his cellular phone started ringing again, and he answered with an bothered expression. This time, he spoke english, sounding quite annoyed.

"This is Covski. Yes. No, I can't speak to you right now, I'm trying to have dinner with the envoys from Vastiva. Well, no! These affairs can wait, they're not bloody likely to move anywhere, are they? Right. I'll call you back." He hung up, and smiled at his guests, sighing.

"Sorry again. Sometime, I'll have to teach my staff not to call me when I'm trying to have dinner. Well, where were we?"

Thaddeus shrugged. "Perhaps a note from a waiter. These things are often easily resolved. Particularly when one has all the power."

"We are happy to discuss arrangements for league meetings, though our soccer teams are, as yet, not that good." He gives a poker blandfaced smile.
"If you were looking for a place to vacation, we can offer that as well. And our cruise lines would be opened to your countrymen. I could see great opportunity for profit there, with a lowered travellers transit visa."

Another smile.

Riva shakes her head and finishes her drink. "Sharks are not a problem in Vastiva. At least not the marine variety. But we have contracted for new casinos in some of our cities."

Covski nodded approvingly, smiling at Riva's joke.

"Great. I really believe that our nations have a lot to offer each other when it comes to tourism. I believe our travelling agencies are still looking for new areas to expand into. You see, tourism is a rather large business in the Federation, and all the travelling agencies are controlled by the state, to provide the population with as cheap offers as possible. That way, we can focus our tourism on very specific locations, if we need to. And we can, of course, keep half an eye on where the people are going, too. Heh."

Again, a waiter stepped up to Covski, gesturing to his plate.

"Are you finished, Comrade Partyleader?"

"Yes thank you, quite fine. I'm not sure if our Vastivan friends are done yet, though." Covski looked at them, as if expecting an answer.

OOC:
Heh, I just noticed Riva's sneaky change of name.

OOC: Argh! Ooops! Oh well... will stick with Riva. I hope. :rolleyes:

"Yes, if you would?" Thaddeus smiles.

Riva shakes a hand over the wineglass, but allows the rest to be taken. "As Vastivan Cruise Lines goes to many locations around the world, if you want complete itineraries of where everyone goes, it will take some work. And what is to say, when someone goes somewhere, where that plane stops is where they stop?"

The waiters efficiently gathered up the plates, and returned into the kitchen once more.

"No, of course. Ever hoping to control the people is plain idiocy. It is just that we like to get a sense of the general direction of where the people are going. For safety reasons, of course. With commies and capitalists and nazis, and fascists and heretics and furries and god knows what else being rounded up and shot all over the world, we are naturally concerned with our people's well-being, escpecially outside of the Federation where we can't protect them."

He drank from his glass of water, and wiped his mouth with the napkin afterwards.

"No... Direct control never works. The government of old Vinostravia tried to do that, and look where that ended up. Some damned low-life rebel came along, destroying the government and taking most of the population with him. Hah, one of my proudest achievements."

He smiled, almost as if being self-ironic.

"Are you not worried about the next revolution?" Riva's question was hardly as doe-eyed innocent as she looked when she asked it.

Covski raised an eyebrow.

"No. It is different this time. You see, this time, the people are happy. Sure, some of them would like to have more liberties, but for most part, no one is displeased. There are the communists, of course, but they are sorely lacking in power as well as popular support. One thing is know for certain is that there can never be a revolution if revolutionary sentiments aren't flourishing in the nation. And we know for a fact that there aren't any, as of now. Everybody is well fed, crime is non-existant, the Party, and myself, are held in deep respect by the general population. And that's the way we strive to keep things."

He took another drink of water.

"The thing is, our form of government is based on need. We make sure that our people need our leadership. And, if they depend on us, they remain faithful to us. And besides, with our... extravagant security budgets, we would know of any risks months before they became critical. All in all, we are playing a rather safe game."

He smiled again, without looking too pleased.

"If open discussion is allowed, then would not revolutionaries be a natural product of such?" She looked at the waiter. "Apologies, yes, please, more water."

The waiter quickly refilled her glass.

"Not necessarily." Covski thought for a moment. "Revolution comes from a will to change. Hence, the best we to safeguard against revolutions is not to supress the people, but rather to see to it that the will to change society never takes root. The population doesn't experience any oppression, so they have no reason to change their percieved world. And frankly, if someone was to put forward the idea of a revolution, or even any form of drastical change, most people would scoff at them, regard them as fools. Some once said: 'Peace through order. Order through happiness. Happiness through need.'. And this, this is one of the cornerstones of the Party."

"The nine-tenths rule comes into effect. Nine-tenths of the people in a perfect society are content and happy. The other tenth causes trouble and tries to change things... 'for the better'." She drinks. "Even restricting ideas does not change that, save now your revolutionaries think they were the first people to think of the 'grand change' they are trying to enact."

"True. That's where our security measures come in. Communists and known criminals or dissidents are being traced, any any attempt to start a serious anti-government group would be nipped in the bud before there was any risk involved. The thing is, the people are supportive of these actions, and see them as necessary evil to keep them safe. And they are happy, and see no reason to worry."

"So, you oppose free discussion?"

"No, not at all. Discussion itself is never directly harmful. Rather than directly opposing political discussion, we make sure that effects are minimal. One will never be able to fully change the mind of those who oppose you, but if it can be arranged so that no one will listen to them... Let them speak. Then, there is of course the fact that it is a fine line between an open discussion and "Incitement", which is a capital offence."

"Ah."

They both get interested in dinner again.

"So yes, all in all, we are playing a very safe game. Heh, the only large group that could possible cause trouble would be the students, as usual, but they're hardly going to rise up against us any time soon.", Covski concluded.

As he spoke, the waiters returned once more, putting down plates with assorted cheeses, crackers, and different kinds of fruit to go with it. They also filled glasses with a rather sweet dessert wine, before retreating into the kitchen after an appreciative gesture from Covski.

"Say.", Covski began, seemingly picking a new topic out of the blue. "I was wondering about the media industries in Vastiva. Is the nation a large producer of movies, TV shows maybe? Are there any Vastivan actors I might have heard about?"

"Vastiva has a national array of 5000 stations, all available to any. As such, no particular actor or actress is likely to stand out. Things do get rather... amusing."

"Amusing?" Covski smiled. "Explain to me."

*** Meanwhile ***

The cleaners left the Vastivans rooms, after finishing their duties. Everything was in order in the rooms, with the exception of a few small details. A few paintings were now hanging a few degrees crooked, some small decorative items had been moved a few centimeters to the side. Hardly noticable things, unless you were specifically looking for it.

OOC: Gee, there's this secretary....

IC:
"Consider. 5000 stations, everything - particulary budget - is determined by viewership. Our nation considers penguins and furries as citizenship material. Nudity is legal. We import from 134 nations if you include our regional allies, without much regard for what the program is - there are those who follow live camera autopsies, and the "all goldfish channel" was #1 for six weeks running."

Riva swallows and continues. "Nude news was passe a decade ago. Public access channels are regularly swamped with people who want to put things on - and several shows have been picked up by other channels as regular shows. Only the Sultan can pre-empt the entire network, which he has done once in three years, for an announcement of the arrival of a cheese shipment. It went into syndication."

"The system is far from overburdened," Thaddeus continues. "We have capacity for 130,000 stations overall, or will once the update is finished. Our Sultan has stated this will be the last update for quite some time to come - there is no need for more. Even now, the only commonly viewed station is channel 722, the Vastivan News Network. Everyone watches it at some point, or hits the intranet websites." He takes a drink. "With VNN being directly controlled by the Heralds, it is the best place to get news from, straight from the horse's mouth. Of course, it's also boring and occasionally tedious - and its supposed to be, its information, not infotainment."

"You see, Partyleader Covski, we do not dissuade our dissidents. We simply bury them in irrelevance." Riva grins cattily at this. "They can say whatever they want, it is most unlikely anyone will listen for very long."

Covski chuckled at the Vastivans' explanation.

"Ah, I see. The old 'Peace through irrelevance'-thesis. It often works quite nicely, but becomes rather ineffective if there is an organized and determined resistance already present in the nation, as is the case in the Federation. Hence, we found that the best viable means of maintaining order was by turning the citizens against them. A content population, happy with the government and with a low opinion of the opposition, it gives the dissidents minimal room to move. And with the law enforcement breathing down their necks, they keep pretty damn quiet. Well, no single method works under every condition, I suppose."

Riva and Thaddeus continued to smile, each taking note of "...if there is an organized and determined resistance already present in the nation, as is the case in the Federation". Also, "They keep pretty damn quiet" was rather interesting. They do, do they? And they are who?

How curious indeed.

"Your pardon," Riva managed just ahead of Thaddeus, "but Vastiva has been quite unoccupied since the Soviet left our shores. Our people have a peculiar form of togetherness. It comes with the climate."

"So I can understand", Covski uttered. "All nations are unique, in that their histories are so different. The Federation is still young, a nation born from conflict. Indeed, there are groups which would rather go back to it the way it was, as there is always."

He took a sip of wine.

"But, as most should understand, killing of an entire minority is never a real option. It is done all over the world, and without exception the boot of the international community comes stomping down just a while later. Heh, of course, you have the choice, but actually making it would be folly."

OOC: And Merry Christmas, too.

Covski glanced at his wristwatch, and then emptied his glass.

"My apologies, friends, but I really must get going. I've important matters to attend to, which unfortunately can't wait any longer. It was a pleasant chat we had, and I wish you a most enjoyable stay here in the Federation. I believe your guides are waiting to escort you back to your rooms, it must have been a long day for the both of you. I will make sure to meet you again, soon enough."

He stood up, and proceeded to shake their hands before walking out through the door, escorted by his guards. Only seconds after he had left, Sjödin entered the room along with another guard, a smile on his face.

Riva gives a long look at Sjödin, eyes playing over his figure. "Ah, mon chere, why the guard? Certes, but I would follow you most anywhere?"

"Maybe he's for me. Not my type though." Thaddeus gives a chuckle.

Sjödin smiled warmly at Riva.

"Ah, but it is standard procedure, for your safety. It not that the Party doesn't trust you, they do, and certainly not that I don't trust you. You should know I do."

He smiled at Thaddeus' witticism, and gestured to the both of them to follow him.

*** Meanwhile ***

"I don't trust them.", Covski stated as he entered the security room where Fredricson was standing, along with the security operatives. "That is, I haven't any real suspicions, but they sure as hell didn't reassure me. The seem pleasant enough, but I rather think there were a few questions an ordinary guest wouldn't have asked."

"So, your 'evaluation' went well?", Fredricson asked, smiling.

"Well enough." Covski said brashly. "I suppose they either think me a bloody boring blabbermouth, or quite an arrogant bastard. I prefer the second. Well, it doesn't matter. Go on with your intended procedures, keep a close eye on them. With any luck, they'll expose themselves anytime soon if they're up to something."

"Oh, they will. And they'll pay...", Fredricson said, with satisfaction in his voice.

"Don't judge them just yet.", Covski corrected him. "They may still be good guys, though inquisitive ones at that. Carry on."

As Covski was about to leave, one of the operatives surveilling the dinner room noticed something. "Hey!", he shouted. "I believe the lady just referred to William as 'mon chere'... Is that usual in Vastiva, or what?"

"What the... Let me see that..." Covski said, watching a replay of their conversation. "Well... I'll be damned. They've fallen in 'love' after what? A whole whopping day in a foreign nation, one which should probably mostly have been filled with negotiations and other official matters? Likely. Monitor young William. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

Covski again left the room, thinking.

It was a well know fact that there were to kinds of people in the Party, even in the Upper Party. Covski liked to refer to them as the inner and outer Party. Young mister Sjödin was a member of the outer Party if there ever was one. Inexperienced and enthusiastic, he believed everybody around him was playing a fair game, showing all their cards. He would believe anything if he was assured it was true. Then, there were people like himself. Masters of the game. And, of course, there were people like Fredricson, who didn't trust anybody. Good for him.

The entire walk back to their quarters, Riva continued to entertain Sjödin with an ongoing flirtation - not entirely overt, not entirely subtle, definitely a presence.

That she took his arm as they walked was simply icing on the cupcake. Her dress added nicely to his view.

Thaddeus entertained himself with a short look at the guard and a blandfaced "So, come here often?"

Riva began to ask Sjödin in for a drink before Thaddeus cleared his throat. "Perhaps another time? At the embassy, perhaps? Once it is built." She smiled and kissed him again, long enough for the guard to get a bit uncomfortable. "Tomorrow then, mon chere. Tomorrow, and perhaps another tomorrow beyond?"

Thaddeus cleared his throat again, addressing William Sjödin not as diplomat to diplomat, but as man to man. "If you have unfinished business, I am most sure our secretary could use some checking up on."

William nodded to Thaddeus.

"Ah, of course. I do believe there aren't any matters that need checking up on right now, it can wait to tomorrow. At what time would you like to have breakfast? It's your choice, there will be ample time to do all the sightseeing we'll want too, and more." He smiled, putting an noticeable emphasis of "and more".

"Also, I was told to inform you that there were cleaners sent to your room, just for a check up. They probably thought you should know."

The soldier accompanying Sjödin did seem a bit uncomfortable, while the guard stationed their door was remarkably calm, his mask covering his entire face, showing no emotion. Sjödin was almost a bit unsure if he even breathed.

"As early as you like, no hurry. I assume we can view the news and get an idea of climate tomorrow?"

Thaddeus took only a few minutes to check up on their secretary - during which time he downloaded a copy of his M-TCODs information to hers. At some later point, a spitsend would reach a satellite.

Riva, on the other hand, looked around their room, her unit looking for bugs, cameras, all that good stuff. She was mildly perturbed at the movement of this and that around the room - either unprofessional, or with intent. In either case, vulgar.

They had a short meaningless conversation, rather fluffy, which covered some quick inquiries between their M-TCODs to one another. A listener or watcher would notice little to nothing - in the meantime, they compared notes, particularly on anything which had been "added" to the room.

Sleep was easy, even in a strange location. In the morning, they would dress according to the dictates of the weather.

It was questioned what FCD was up to, but then again, this was diplomacy, and such was always somewhat odd.

*ping*

OOC: Sorry about the lack of response, but I've been sick, away, busy, or combinations of the three, and as such unable to post until now.

IC:

And so, the darkness and night settled in, and the city went to sleep. In the ministries however, the preparations, for the sightseeing and other otherwise, continued somewhat frantically during the better part of the night. Eventually the preparations made were deemed satisfactory, and the better part of the staff also got some rest.

As predicted, the sun soon rose again, and another day awokened.

At 9:00 AM, the Vastivans were too awokened by a simple announcement, coming from the rather fancy radio systems mounted in the walls near the beds. The announcement, besides informing them of the time, also briefly informed the of the weather forecast (predicted to be sunny but rather windy, about 10 degrees celcius), and did a quick rundown of the most important news items from around the world. It was also explained that they would be picked up in about half an hour, to have breakfast in the small dining hall of the compound.

A few minutes after half past nine, Sjödin walked through the corridor, accompanied by a soldier, another faceless soul walking close behind him. He hadn't slept very well, and he couldn't really put his finger on why. The dreams were back, for the first time in months. He supressed the thought. Frowning slightly, he noticed the soldier standing guard between their doors. With no way to separate the faceless beings, he almost believed that the same soldier had been standing in the same spot all night, without moving. The soldier didn't turn too look at him, he only raised his hand and saluted as he passed, and the soldier accompanying him did the same. He had never really liked soldiers, with their only purpose being killing, and he certainly couldn't stand theme in these outfits. The faceless men were... ...frightening, frankly.

Nevermind. He stopped to knock at Thaddeus' door, but changed his mind. Instead, he walked over to Riva's door, and knocked on it instead, not quite knowing what to expect. He was, frankly, confused. Red and Black, he found himself thinking, remembering Lebov's mocking, and he smiled sardonically to himself. I have NO idea what's going on here...

Riva's door is pulled open - she goes to full gush as she notes Sjödin standing there, steps forward and kisses him again.

"Good morning. I trust you slept well?" She turns to quickly to note an answer, if any was given by feature or word. "We heard it will be spring in the air, so lighter garb will be the norm. Do tell me, do I look better in purple or blue? Thaddeus thinks the purple is a bit pretentious, but I think it highlights my eyes. What do you think?"

Two burnooses, one blue, one purple, are on the bed, laid out for viewing.

Next door, Thaddeus finished putting on his simple green burnoose, his M-TCOD resting in a pocket, active but unnoticed. Mentally, he reviewed his notes again, a bit disturbed still by the previous evening, but it was not for his decision-making ability that he was chosen for this position.

At the desk, their secretary finishes writing out the first official missive, to be posted at some point during the day. Assuredly it will be looked at by their hosts - as there is nothing to find, but much to infer, it may result in some questions later. Or not. All part of the game.

He smiled, feeling slightly better than moments before.

"Good morning. Ah yes, I've slept well.", he lied. He eyed the burnooses quickly, confused and not an expert on the subject. "Well...", he began. "I do think the purple one suits you best, I'd say." He looked at her again, and smiled. "Now then, I'll have to see if your colleague is ready. It's time for breakfast."

He left her room, and knocked on Thaddeus door, preparing to accompany them both to the dining hall.

With a swirling motion, the purple burnoose is into the air, and Riva works on completing her dressing.

Thaddeus opens the door on the first knock. "Ah, yes. And how are you this morning?" He pulls out his handkerchief and hands it to Sjödin with a smile. "Is it normal for you to wear lipstick this early?"

Slightly blushing, Sjödin accepted the handkerchief and quickly wiped his mouth. "Erm, thank you."

"Oh, err, I'm quite fine. Let's get ready for breakfast then, shall we?"

He gestured out towards the corridor, wanting to get out of here as fast as possible.

They follow, Riva sliding forward to take Sjödin's arm. "Will you be staying for breakfast? And the tour?"

"Yes. I've been selected to accompany you during the tour. Randall will give you all the details after breakfast."

Another quick walk through the compound, and they arrived in the smaller dining hall, currently outfitted for breakfast. It quite resembled the breakfast buffet you'd find in any rather upper-scale hotel in the world, but of course with the sparse decorations common in the Federation, or at least in the official buildings of the Party. There were a few other visitors seated at some of the tables eating, often accompanied by a guide or member of the diplomatic staff.

"Here, you'll find a full selection of the usual breakfast cuisine in the nation", a waiter explained, meeting them in the door. "You'll find a wide variety of fruits and berries over there, and there are cereal, porridge, warm foods, and bread in that order.", he explained, pointing to the buffet tables of food. "Drinks are over there, we have juices, coffee, tea, water and wine availiable, if there is anything else you'd like, don't hesitate to ask."

Sjödin gave him a brief nod, and led the Vastivans into the room, claiming a table. He then ensured that they were pleased with the assortment, before helping himself to a light second breakfast. He never could eat a lot when he had just woken up.

Bump, or similiar.

Both the diplomats appear to eat sparsely - until you start to add up plates.
Most everything is at least sampled. Riva spends much of her time chatting with Sjödin, asking many simple questions. And when she isn't, Thaddeus is.
Not anything of depth, just chit-chat.

It isn't until midway through the pattern is obvious - the speaker distracts while the other moves off for another "sampling". Though there is nothing false about Riva's interest, Thaddeus' is a touch... playful. Amusing to the speaker for the private jest.

Sjödin did his outmost to please the guests, and quite successfully at that. He did a great job not take note of the Vastivans's 'special' behaviour, and an even better job not showing it, if he did.

When the breakfast had gone on for quite some time, Randall entered the room, quickly walking over to the table where his younger colleague was sitting.

"Good morning, Mr. Noordi, Miss Mokotoff. Comrade Sjödin." An amused smile crossed his lips briefly as he greeted his colleague, who didn't seem to take note. "I trust you have all slept well, we have quite an eventful day ahead of us. We'll start if by touring the HQ area, visiting the museum, the university and of course the HQ building itself. Then, a tour of the barracks in the military disctrivt has been arranged, possible showing off some manufactoring plant, if that would interest you. After that, we should have plenty of time to visit any of the more common tourist attractions of interest. With a lunch and a dinner thrown in between all that, of course."

He seemed to stop and think for a moment, stroking the back of his neck, as he often did.

"I suppose you'll want to make a quick stop by your rooms before you get going.", he suggested. "No stress, of course. Well... As you're going to be staying in the Federation for quite som time, we would request that you and any of your staff fill out these forms, for the registry. These are standad records, like those kept on any citizen of the Federation. They would usually be accompanied by a psychological evaluation, but that will not be necessary in your case." He smiled, as he handed them a folder containing a number of forms, asking not only the standard questions, but also a few which could be considered a bit on the personal side (such as sexual preference, political background, etc) and a few that seemed quite out of place. (among others a couple of Rorschach tests and a few seemingly nonsensical questions.)

"We would like to have these returned before you leave today. Of course, they will be handled strictly confidentially, just like any personal records." Randall looked quite reassuring, while young Sjödin looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh, are we now citizens of the Federation?" Riva smiled, much blonde for the moment.

Thaddeus looked mildly perturbed at her sudden change in IQ.
"Possibly not, Riva, but we should ask our... host why such would be necessary on diplomatic personnel."

He looks at Randall. "If you would explain the necessity? For our reports, you understand, we must be clear on absolutely everything."

"Collecting information on individuals like this is a standard procedure, both for reference and statistics, but also to better provide security for all parts involved." He paused. Sjödin was busy looking at his shoes. "This information will be used for a multitude of reasons, all confidentially of course, such as by medical personell, our security staff when determining the likelyhood of any threats to you, etcetera. Your security is of highest priority to us. Rest assured that all information gathered will be used in your best interest." He thought for a moment. "Tell you what. As your are indeed here as diplomatic staff, you may if you wish skip any questions which you feel uncomfortable with, but we must ask that answer all the basic questions. Sounds acceptable?" He smiled, looking quite trustworthy.

While smiling, he glanced at Sjödin, and thought about what Covski had said about the forms. A question left unanswered often tells us more than a whole page of answered questions.

Thaddeus gives a most warm smile, adding "You do realize, on a quid pro quo basis, this will have to enter any diplomatic treaty as required documentation by any member of your government to set foot on Vastivan soil? We do not, of course, mind - but we would point out the results of these actions before they are taken, just to reassure ourselves this is what you desire."

"Are you sure that's fair, Thaddeus? After all, our people are monitored from birth. Surely, such in depth analysis..."

Thaddeus gives Riva a glance - she goes quiet.

"Of course, that shouldn't constitute any problem. Information is and will always be a necessity. As long as the information kept is of an appropritate nature and is only used for equally appropriate matters, keeping information on citizens and residents is all for the best. Surely, the government has the right to know who its citizens are? Never mind that, this is not the time to discuss these matters."

He turned to Sjödin, who finally looked up at him.

"William, everything is ready and waiting in the outer courtyard, as soon as you and our visitors are ready. No stress." He turned to adress everybody seated at the table. "I have other matters to attend to, but I hope you all have a very pleasant day." He nodded to them, and then turned around and left the room.

"Very well." Sjödin spoke up after his couple of minutes of silence. "As soon as you're ready, we... Er, you can return to your rooms and make any preparations you wish, filling out the forms and whatnot. It seems evereybody is ready to go as soon as we are."

Riva blinks at Thaddeus. "Who their citizens are?"

"We've been....repatriated, apparently." Thaddeus shrugs it off. "Very well, if such is necessary, I suppose back for some paperwork. A copy each, I suppose?"

They are easily returned to their rooms, Riva a bit preoccupied and put out, Thaddeus more egalitarian about the whole thing.

Once in private, all forms are scanned into the databases, along with answers given and each ambassadors opinions on the whole thing.

(OOC: You'll have to ask about what info you want)

(OOC: Enjoy! ^^)

IDENT-FORM 2681-79 - REGISTRATION OF DIPLOMATIC STAFF RESIDING IN THE FEDERATION

Full name:

Sex: M/F

Height (When last checked):

Weight (When last checked):

Date of Birth:

Place of birth:

Place of residence in home nation:

Current civil status (Single, married, etc):

Education:

IQ (When last checked):

Current occupation:

Previous occupation:

Mother's occupation (at time of birth):

Father's occupation (at time of birth):

Political background*:

Religious belief(s):

Criminal record in any nation (if yes, specify):

Sexual preference:

Allergies (if yes, specify):

Cronical illnesses (if yes, specify):

Diagnosed any for mental illness (if yes, specify):

History of mental illness in the family (if yes, specify):

Smoker: Y/N

Favorite animal:

Military experience (if yes, specify type and time period):

Civilian experience with firearms:

Martial arts practised:

Hobbies:

Favorite artist/actor:

Favorite music type:

Please state what you see in the following pictures:


[a rather pretty blob of ink]

[another blob of ink, much like the first but more spotty]

[a third blob of ink, like the first ones except uglier]


* (Refers to political views of parents, schools or other individuals or institutions which had a major inpact during the upbringing of the individual)

The information entered in this form will be handled confidentially, and only used by official institutions and for cases when the information may be used to assist the visitors in any matter.

OOC: Yeah, that's it, make me work. TG me an email to send these to. And you've got three people - Thaddeus, Riva, secretary.

OOC: There, telegram sent.

OOC: Continue, or wait for the forms?

OOC: *wonders if this will ever be replied to*

OOC: Ach! Again, sorry for not being around. My life on the internets seems to have been rather ill-fated lately, this time my ISP was acting up, badly. I'll see to it that I will be more active from now on. Again, I apologize for my away-ness.

As I still cannot access my email right now, I guess we can continue from where we left off, supposedly with Riva and Thaddeus returning from their rooms.

OOC: Ach! Again, sorry for not being around. My life on the internets seems to have been rather ill-fated lately, this time my ISP was acting up, badly. I'll see to it that I will be more active from now on. Again, I apologize for my away-ness.

As I still cannot access my email right now, I guess we can continue from where we left off, supposedly with Riva and Thaddeus returning from their rooms.

OOC: Ah, this explains the lack of email reply... no problems.

OOC: For the sake of simplicity, I'll continue as Riva and Thaddeus return with their forms.

IC:

As the two Vastivans returned from the room, they were escorted to the courtyard, where a small group people were waiting for them. A young clerk effectively took the forms of their hands. Randall, who was standing in front of the small group smiled and nodded to them as they arrived, and turned to adress them.

"Ah, very well. You are all set to go then? Just a few things before you leave. You will be visiting some high security ares which would usually be off limits to all but a small group of people. At these locations, security measures will be extremely extensive, and we must warn you that, according to the laws of the Federation, your diplomatic immunity will be rendered void should you be suspected of espionage activites. Needless to say, we have no suspicions against you, but we ask that you take precautions to avoid any misunderstandings about these matters. The security measures at these installations are often of a very... ...efficient nature."

He paused for a second or two, and let a friendly smile cross his lips briefly before gesturing to an a soldier, uniformed and with an assault rifle slung over his back, to step up next to him. Randall continued.

"This is corporal Shaw F. Doox of the 1st legionnary corps of the Federation." The soldier nodded to both of the Vastivans in turn, his face hidden from view the same way as that of all the other soldiers. "He is to act as your bodyguard during the sightseeing, and shall accompany you at all times. This is a measure to insure your safety during your stay, and should not impede with your privacy in any way. Rest assured, corporal Doox doesn't speak Vastivan, any conversation in any other language than english or vinostravian should be completely concealed from his ears."

Randall paused again, looking to the people at the left and right of him, trying to recall if there was anything he had neglected to inform the diplomats on. He frowned, making a last attempt to spot anything he had overlooked, but as he couldn't remember any such matters and noone around him said anything to imply that this was actually the case, he nodded to the vastivans.

"That should be all. You will be instructed more thoroughly on matter of security as you approach installations where such are required. Now then, any questions before you leave?"

They both shake their heads.

Riva, however, decides to add more. "Vastivan, to be sure, is an amalgam language. It does contain elements of English, though their position and usage would be rendered strange to the untrained..."

Thaddeus glowers.

"...ear", she finishes, blushing.

Nodding thoughtfully, Randall made a nondescript yet decidedly friendly gesture. "Very well. I hope you have a nice and interesting day, and I'll see you all later. William, take good care of our guests today. Good luck."

Sjödin simply nodded to him, and ushered the Vastivans towards the exit of the courtyard and into the waiting limousine, closely followed by the corporal.

*** In the HQ ***

Meanwhile, Covski was sitting at his desk, skimming through a report which had been delivered to him a few minutes earlier, when his secretary opened the door.

"They're about to leave the ministry now, comrade."

"All right.", Covski uttered without looking up. "They were assigned a bodyguard according to the instructions?"

"Yes, comrade. A corporal Shaw F. Doox of the 1st legionary corps."

"Shaw F. Doox?" Covski couldn't help but to look up and raise his eyebrows. "How infantile... And dangerous, possibly. No. We have little to fear from our Vastivan friends in that way, I'd think. Our young Shaw will do nicely, certainly. You are dismissed. Keep me updated on these matters."

"Yes, comrade."

The secretary left the room. Covski gave a quick chuckle before returning to his report.

Both of the delegates remained patient sheep, content to be lead about. Riva occasionally noted this and that about buildings, or bridges, or whatever archetecture she noted.

Thaddeus remained quiet, smiling, watching.

As the limousine drove through the main streets of the city, Sjödin engaged the Vastivans in a bit of casual conversation about the day ahead of them.

"I believe we've picked a grand day to do the touring, I'd say. This weather is the best in quite some time, and there will hardly be any fog today, as far as I've gathered. That should make for some great views of the city later today."

Outside, the streets were rather full with people moving about, going to work, running errands and whatnot. The soldiers-cum-police officers were seen patrolling the streets in pairs with modest intervals. Sjödin seemed to watch the people on the streets with a bit of interest, while the corporal appeared to be staring blankly in front of him.

"We are now entering the HQ sector of the city.", Sjödin explained as the limousine stopped briefly for a security check. "This is one of the more upscale districts, where many of the most important municipal buildings are located."

It only took a few minutes before they arrived at the first stop of the day, the Museum of Fine Arts. One could describe the building as a masterpiece of neo-simplistic mono-classical architecture, but frankly it just looked like a huge, perfectly rectangular slab of white stone.

Getting out of the car, Sjödin led the small group through the entrance, and into the halls of the museum. Most of the arts displayed were older works, many from the Soviet and Vinostravian times, and quite a few works from before that time.

The contemporary works were mostly landscapes or typical works of modern art, though there were a few paintings of political character, including an exeptionally extraordinary one which displayed partyleader Covski standing on top of a barricade, thrusting the Party flag towards the sky, with blood running down his face, heavy rain with lightning pouring down, and dozens of corpses strewn on the ground, with a burning city as the background.

Sjödin did his outmost guiding the visitors around despite his somewhat lacking knowledge about the works of art, with the good corporal walking closely behind them like a white shadow.

Once again, Riva does not stop chattering for an instant, peppering Sjödin with question after question about archetecture, art, histories, sculpture, postcards, pictures, whatever else shows up in front of them. That she holds his arm and presses close, lovers on a walk, is surely... comforting.

Thaddeus, on the other hand, watches quietly, save for a spoken wonder of why the Vinostravian works are present.

"Well", Sjödin explained, "the presence of the Vinostravian arts is quite natural, as the Federation was merely different sectors of Vinostravia up until less than fifteen years ago. We owe a lot of our cultural heritage to the Soviet and Vinostravian eras even if they were times of oppression and..."

He suddenly became silent, as though a painful memory he'd managed to supress until now had surfaced. Changing the subject of the conversation, he continued to guide to visitors, focusing on showing off the most influential and famous works, the ones he actually knew anything about.

Riva pipes up "Completely understandable - our time under the Soviet was repressive, yet it did produce art works able to better express the feelings of the era. Truly, some show how cleverly these things were resisted - is there a chance you'll come and see them?"

Sjödin was silent for a second, looking up at her. He then smiled as he answered. "Yes. Yes... Perhaps some day... Yes."

Again, the madness of the situtation struck him. He had only met this woman less then a day ago, and already... No. He refused to to attempt to understand it all, he knew it wouldn't be worth it. "To analyse the actions, motives and feelings of a human being, trying to understand - that, that is what drives a person insane." Covski's words.

Instead, he just went ahead with it. The touring continued, they had been strolling around the museum for a little more than an hour, and he tried to be as receptive as possible for sign that his guest wanted to go on to the next location of the tour. The corporal kept walking silently behind them, and his ghostlike presence made him slightly uncomfortable.

At a particularly awe-inspiring piece, Thaddeus turns to the Corporal and says "And what do you think of this?"

"Thaddeus!" chides Riva, "That's not fair of you!"

"Life is most certainly not fair. Besides which," he demures, "he paid for the tour, we might as well hear his side of things."

Riva's mouth goes into a pout as she looks up at Sjödin. "He really shouldn't do things like that."

"Come now," he continues, completely ignoring Riva. "You must have seen, or at least heard of this. What do you think about it? Does it inspire? And if so, what does it inspire?"

The corporal glanced at the painting briefly, before looking straight at Thaddeus and replying in a indifferent voice:

"My dear Mr Thaddeus Noordi al-Naaman al-Kava, Sir, this painting is another independent work of a sort which was common after the rebellion. Like most others, this work glorifies the actions of the FCD Resistance, which was later to become the Party. This piece is particularly interesting as it uses methaphors to a greater extent than most other similar works of this period, the owls, for example, representing the old Vinostravian government. This gives this painting an air of sincerity, compared to other works which seem to be more overtly "sucking up" to the, at that time, new entity of power. An interesting sidenote is that Covski himself never actually approved of or endorsed any of these types of works, even though most of them were actually non-commissioned works spontaniously made by independent artists. Was there anything else, Mr Noordi, Sir?"

One could almost swear that the soldier was grinning sardonically behind that mask.

Sjödin just stood with his mouth half-open, looking at disbelief at the soldier who was now standing as emotionless and silent as before. It actually bothered him that a soldier was more well-informed of the post-rebellious artworks than he was.

"Well now I'm much wondering if there's a digital reader inside that mask. I'm rather impressed."

"Thank you, Sir." The voice only sounded slightly smug. "I can assure you, Sir, that any knowledge I possess of these works is entirely my own. In fact, I took a course in national art history in addition to my formal military education. But, Sir, if I may be so bold, I'd rather suggest I'm not the most prominent point of interest here."

Sjödin seized the opportunity to speak up.

"Indeed. Perhaps, if there is nothing else you'd like to see here, we should move on to the next location? We have much to see, and not too much time."

"No time?" pouts Riva, then brightens. "Perhaps some postcards, or a few viewbooks or printbooks on the works here?"

Thaddeus, on the other hand, considers the Corporal again, then shrugs. "Of course, we are at your disposal."

Sjödin couldn't help but to smile. "I assure you, my dear, there will be no lack of postcards." If one listened very attentively, one could hear the corporal mumble "charming" in a very low tone of voice, directed at noone in particular.

Back at the car, the driver who was waiting for them by the limousine adressed Sjödin. "A slight change of plans, comrade. We are going to tour the HQ before the University, instead of the other way around. HQ's directive."

"All right.", Sjödin responded, not too baffled by the slight modification of the plans.

Entering the car, it was only a couple of minutes long ride before arriving at the HQ of the Party of FCD. The building was surrounded by high stone walls, complete with barbed wire and all. The HQ itself was a collection of structures which had been a manison constructed in the early 19th century by a local nobleman. Very little modification had been made to the actual outer structure, with the exceptions that the stones had been whitened and polished to resemble marble, and a few stone pillars had been added here and there, more as a decorative than a structural decision.

In the middle of the courtyard the grand "Monument of Sacrifice", a marvellous white marble sculpture of a man raising a laurel and a sword to the skies. On the base of it, the name of every last member of the FCD resistance killed before the rebellion was engraved. In a place as this, it was hardly a suprise that the Party banner was as frequently displayed here as anywhere else.

As soon as they left the limousine, they were greeted formally by a squad of soldiers. The soldiers escorted them to the entrance at a modest pace, giving them ample time to admire their surroundings.

Entering the entrance hall, they were greeted by a captain of Covski's personal Legionary Guard, uniformed but unmasked. He saluted them.

"Welcome to the Party Headquarters. A guide should be here for you in just a moment. As you are authorized to be given a full tour, which includes areas which would be off-limits for regular visitors, we must ask that you hand over any and all devices capable of recording sound or video, as well as devices capable of taking photographies. As you have surely been informed, should you be caught with any such devices within these premesis you will be arrested and charged with espionage, in which case your diplomatic immunity will be rendered void. Any items deposited will be held in locked strongboxes, to which you will be given the keys, to assure you that your items will be untouched."

Two soldiers appeared, flanking him, carrying boxes just waiting for items to be put in them.

Thaddeus clears his throat. "Of course."

Two M-TCODs are placed in two boxes, with a definite shrug by Riva, once they are set in the "OFF" position and locked.

The soldiers immediatly locked the boxes, handing the keys over to the respective owners of its contents. At the same time their guide, a man in the early thirties wearing the civil Party, walked up to greet them.

"Welcome to the Party HQ. My name is David Saratov, and I will be your guide today." He led them through a pair of sturdy wooden doors into the main hallway, where a security checkpoint complete with metal detectors and X-rays awaited.

"Just a quick security check before we begin.", the guide smiled. "I'm sure you understand."

The corporal walked through first, handing over his rifle and his equipment belt to the personnel before passing through. Sjödin, on the other hand, waited for the Vastivans to pass through before going through himself.

*they look at each other, shrug, and walk through, then look at their... guides.*

*they look at each other, shrug, and walk through, then look at their... guides.*

Sjödin hastened to smoothen the situation. "We apologize for all these hassles, but standard security procedures hav got to be followed. Please, do not think that we do not trust you." He smiled. "God knows we tried to convince them to make an exception in your case, but these lads are quite stalwart. They have to, I suppose, this being the HQ of the main governing body of the Federation. Who knows what havoc a spy could cause here if undetected."

"Indeed", the guide interjected. "Well then, let us begin."

Their guide led them along, and Sjödin gestured for the others to follow. The corporal cleared his throat, then followed a bit behind the others.

The interior of the Party HQ was very much like that of any modern office building, wide hallways brightly illuminated by warm lights in the ceiling, and decorated with large potted plants and Party banners with even intervals. Clerks and Party officials hurried back and forth, attentively taking care of their assignments. The whole complex vibrated with life and activite, even though in a peculiarly orderly fashion. Every now and then, a pair of guards could be seen patrolling the building, moving slowly and somewhat casually compared to the people around them. They wore the same uniforms as ordinary soldiers, even though their faces were uncovered.

After about a minute of walking, the guide stopped outside a pair of large wooden doors, flanked by two guards.

"This", he explained, "is the main Party hall, were the ministers and other important officials meet when engaging in voting, debates, and other important matters of the Party. We'll be let in in a moment, just waiting for clearance."

Thus, he gestured for them to sit down in a sofa conviniently placed next to the doors. The corporal, of course, remain standing, motionless as ever.

They sit, both smilingly neutral.


OOC: For the record, both M-TCODs are boobytrapped. If they are mucked with, they explode.

They only had to wait a few minutes, before the door swung open and a guard gestured that they could come inside.

The Party hall was a great deal larger than one would expect, but apart from the size, there was little suprising about the room itself. The room was furnished much like any council chamber in the U.N, the focus of the room being the podium on an elevated stage, in the far back of the room. The room was, just like most other official installations of the Party sparsly decorated, white being the predominant colour. The fact that the room was very light only served to make it seem even larger, especially as it was entirely empty, apart from a lone guard and a few cleaners sweeping the floors.

"So, here it is.", the guide stated. "This is the Party hall, where most of the important meetings take place. This room could seat a very large portion of the entire upper Party, if special furnishing arrangements were made beforehand. The hall is sometimes used for important trials, and is then refurnished as such. That's usually when charges are brought to a member of the upper Party or when high-ranking insurgents have been caught, for example."

While the guide spoke, Sjödin had been listening attentively, while the corporal had been drifting away slightly, strolling a few meters away from the group and returning as the guide finished his presentation.

"Well", the guide asked. "Any questions before we move on?"

Bumpz0r.

"What sort of media coverage is allowed in here? What is your security like? Are foreign diplomats allowed to sit in?" Thaddeus begins.

"Do you have postcards of it?" Riva adds brightly.

Thaddeus glares at her for a moment.

"Ah, it depends entirely on the activities conducted in the hall at the time. A few standard Party meetings every month are open to the public, while the most confidential affairs are entirely off-limits for all but members of the Upper Party. The media are usually allowed to whenever they may have any interest in the affairs being handled. Diplomats can attend if they get clearance to do so by the appropriate ministry beforehand. Security measures are basically the same as the ones you went through on the way in, sometimes more rigorous if there is a need. And, er, yes, yes, there are probably postcards. That will be, erm, arranged."

The guide quickly glanced at Sjödin before continuing.

"Right then, moving along." The guide led them out of the hall, and after a quick walk they soon reached a restricted office area, separated from the rest of the building by another checkpoint. Another quick control, and they were allowed in without further hassles.

"Now then", the guide explained. "This is the area from which the most important affairs of the Party are handled. As you understand, this area is one of the most secure in all of the Federation." He suddenly looked at his watch.

"My apologies; I must make a phonecall to confirm a few clearances, one moment if you please." Without further explanation, he produced a phone and walked away from the group, well beyond earshot.

Sjödin smiled, commented on the sparse decorations in the building. The corporal, for the first time, showed any sign of real visible emotion, actually turning his head to survey the surroundings and briefly looking over his shoulder.

"He'll be back in just a moment", Sjödin assured them.

"Spartan for efficiency?" inquires Thaddeus.

Riva just gushes about the scenery all over Sjödin, pointing out abstract and trivial archetectural details, either in building or decoration - or both.

"Partially for efficiency, I suppose", Södin began, "but also because the vision of the founders of the Party was that it was to be an purely political entity, and not coloured by culture or religion or wealth. Supposedly, the furnishings are rather... sterile to ensure that they don't give the appearance of wealth or..."

Sjödins explanation was interrupted by the arrival of a blond quite short man in a black suit, wearing sunglasses despite the fact that he was indoors, walking quickly towards them and displaying a smile glowering with well-trained charm.

"Ah! You must be the visitors from Vastiva!", he approached Thaddeus and shook his hand, completely ignoring Sjödin, who glanced at the corporal who didn't even seem to note the short man's arrival. "I'm quite pleased to finally meet you", the man continued, now shaking Riva's hand, still glowering with the kind of charisma one would expect to find among the visitors of an upper-class cocktail party. "My name is James Carthew, minister of corporate affairs, and executive overseer of some of the more notable Party-controlled corporations, the FCD Arms industries to name one. I've come to understand that there is quite a bit of trade to be made between our nations, is that not so? I'd hope we'll have the chance to converse quite a few times during your stay, no? Ah, so tell me, have you enjoyed your stay so far?"

Sjödin, clearly not the target of Carthew's charm offensive, just stood quiet. The corporal was as uncaring as ever, directing his attention to a banner on the wall.

"Ab-shalom and greetings, Mr Carthew." Thaddeus' pronounciation was precise as he gave a short bow while continuing the handshake. "Yes, yes, we most certainly have enjoyed what we have seen, so far. And we must indeed speak many times in our stay."

Riva, on the other hand, looked at the banner the Corporal was paying attention to. "Why this one?"

"Delightful!" Carthew went on, smiling, seeming as if he hadn't even listened to the response. "Surely, this city has much to offer, even though the tourism industry isn't even a fraction of what it could be. Nevermind. I presume your..." He gave Sjödin a dismissive glance. "...guide will be taking you to catch the view from the Goldhawk building later today, no?" He didn't stop await a reply. "I shall be delighted to see you in my office for a couple of drinks and a bit of friendly chit-chat, then. I'm certain we'll have plenty of time."

The corporal turned to look at Riva for a short moment, then turning back to the banner.

"This banner? No particular reason. As for the choice of banner itself. These banners are mass-produced. Found in all kinds of official places in the Federation. The banner is not interesting. As it turned out, I happened to be standing next to it. As such, it was a suitable piece of decoration to rest my eyes on. It is impolite to stare. And, I might add, I'm here as a bodyguard, not to be an attentive listener."

Uninterestedly, he glanced at Riva once more.

Riva looks entirely nonplussed, and turns her attention to the newcomer.

As if to ensure that his verbal offensive didn't lose momentum, Carthew went on, all the while smiling amiably at the Vastivans, revealing a set of frighteningly white teeth.

"I say! If you are going to remain in the city for a while, me and a few friends will be throwing a little private gathering a few weeks from now, I'm certain we'd all be delighted to have you as guests there, if it pleases you. Indeed, I really hope you'll will get to see quite a bit of the the social life of the Federation during your time here, I'd hate seeing you being stuck in the Ministry with nothing but diplomatic business during your entire stay." He nodded his head slightly in the direction of Sjödin.

Sjödin, glaring at Carthew, tried to interrupt, but the blonde man totally ignored the diplomat once more, adressing the visitors with new-found social intensity. Sjödin resignedly looked first at the corporal, then at their guide who seemed to be about to finish his call.

"Why, tell me, what is the nightlife like in Vastiva? Seeing as there is quite a bit of night to go around, if you know what I mean. What sort of entertainment is predominant? Are there any good liquors produced locally?"

One could easily get the impression that Carthew had accidentially mistaken the term "Party HQ" for a headquarters of a cocktail party, rather than a political organization.

(Does anyone fancy a bump, perhaps?)

(actually, I fancy a week off - but will reply to this tonight after work. *sigh* sorry, RL is getting in the way again)

As if to ensure that his verbal offensive didn't lose momentum, Carthew went on, all the while smiling amiably at the Vastivans, revealing a set of frighteningly white teeth.

"I say! If you are going to remain in the city for a while, me and a few friends will be throwing a little private gathering a few weeks from now, I'm certain we'd all be delighted to have you as guests there, if it pleases you. Indeed, I really hope you'll will get to see quite a bit of the the social life of the Federation during your time here, I'd hate seeing you being stuck in the Ministry with nothing but diplomatic business during your entire stay." He nodded his head slightly in the direction of Sjödin.

Sjödin, glaring at Carthew, tried to interrupt, but the blonde man totally ignored the diplomat once more, adressing the visitors with new-found social intensity. Sjödin resignedly looked first at the corporal, then at their guide who seemed to be about to finish his call.

"Why, tell me, what is the nightlife like in Vastiva? Seeing as there is quite a bit of night to go around, if you know what I mean. What sort of entertainment is predominant? Are there any good liquors produced locally?"

One could easily get the impression that Carthew had accidentially mistaken the term "Party HQ" for a headquarters of a cocktail party, rather than a political organization.

Thaddeus gave an easy smile. "Yes, we have about four to five months of straight dark. As such, most domes are equipped to simulate a 'night' if that is what is desired. We embrace all sorts of entertainments - I know of at least one foreign bard who is doing rather well regailing bars with tales of places and things which probably never happened on the good side of a bar stool. On the other, we pay all sorts of musicians much to come and perform. And clubs exist, most assuredly.

"As to alcohol - being an antarctic region, there was not the climate nor ground to create a good enough crop of anything excess enough to allow brewing, until recently. So we import still. From all over."

"Ah, lovely!" Carthew pondered for a second. "Perhaps you would be interested in..." He interrupted himself, as he noticed that their tour guide had returned. "Well then", he began, as he produced a cigar and proceeded to light it with a gold-plated lighter. "I had better leave you to your tour. I'm certain your... escort will be so kind as to lead you by my office, should you be paying a visit to the Goldhawk building. Au revoir."

With a last condescending look at Sjödin and a final charm-filled smile to the Vastivans, he turned away from them and walked towards the exit, Sjödin glaring at his back as he left.

"Sorry for the interruption", the guide apologized. "A few simple matters had to be cleared up, a bit of bureaucratic formality which should have been handled prior to your arrival, really. Very well, if you just follow along for a little bit here..." He began walking, gesturing for the group to follow him.

As they walked, Sjödin adressed the Vastivans in a low tone of voice, almost sounding a bit sullen. "I do not trust that Carthew character... He's a snake."

Behind them, the Corporal mumbled something, clearly not intended for the others to hear.

Thaddeus shrugged. "He is a salesman, we are diplomats, it is part of the job."

Riva's opinion, on the other hand, was stifled in a sudden coughing fit.

"Well, it's not just that...", Sjödin continued hurriedly. "It's well known that Carthew has a background in organized crime, and for all we know he's probably still involved. Not really a savoury type of character, if you ask me. Then again, much of the Party was..."

Sjödin was interrupted as their guide suddenly stopped, punching in a code on a small keypad next to a nondescript wooden door. He then opened the door, and ushered his small group inside. The room wasn't very large, and mostly resembled a exhibition room at a museum. Along the walls, various items were placed on display in glass cabinets, including among other things a few documents, a couple of items that looked like they had been torn from some sort of parade uniform, and a pair of handguns. On one of the walls, a soiled crudely crafted Party flag was framed.

"This", the guide explained, "is the archive of the Resistiance. Here, items of great importance from the time of the resistance movement against the Vinostravian government which was later to become the Party of FCD are displayed. That, for example," He gestured towards the flag on the wall, "is the very first Party flag, sewn in the basement of an abandoned warehouse in the capitol in the infancy of the resistance. This very flag was carried during the final storming of the Palace which lead to the ousting of the Vinostravian government from the capitol. Go ahead, look around. I'll be here to tell you more about any items of interest."

Sjödin, cleary impressed with the exhibition began to examine some of the artifacts more closely, inviting the Vastivans to do the same. Meanwhile, the corproal remained close to the door, as impassive as ever.

Riva begins to drag Sjödin about the room by the arm, absolutely fascinated with everything. She reads each available placard and begins a litany of questions about each and every item - particularly the documents and awards, though she shows no lack of enthusiasm to the firearms.

Thaddeus, on the other hand, stands before the flag and considers it, silently.

Sjödin did his best to answer the flood of questions, even though he was himself cleary fascinated by some of the items on display here.

The guide noticed the interest Thaddeus showed for the flag, and stepped up next to him.

"That flag is a very important symbol for the Party, to many of the members who were active in the Resistance, it represents the movement's evolvement from a band of 'criminals', causing disorder, sitting in a warehouse plotting against the state, into something organized, an entity which brought people hope and had clear ideals for the future. One can almost say, the making of the flag was the beginning of the Resistance becoming the Party. Quite powerful."

Sjödin, who had paused to listen to the guide's explaination, raised his hand slightly to attract his attention.

"Excuse me", he said gesturing to an empty display case. "What's supposed to be in this display?"

"Well," the guide began, "that case is intended to hold comrade Partyleader Covski's handgun, but it appears as if he prefers to keep it on him for whatever reason. It's much the same thing with the gun as it is with the flag, but on a much more personal level for the Partyleader. I actually don't know the story behind it, as far as I've understood it is a standard issue pistol from the Vinostravian military."

As the guide spoke, Sjödin had turned away with a pained expression on his face. "I... I see.", he answered shortly. The guide went on to tell the visitors about a large torn-away piece of cloth which had been part of the Vinostravian president's uniform.

"Why didn't he just have it repaired?" asks Riva, a momentary blonde.

The guide smiled. "The president of Vinostravia was exiled shortly after the storming of the palace, having his uniform repaired was most certainly the least of his concerns at the time. Some say he was lucky to escape the nation alive, some say he didn't deserve to."

"Why didn't he have it repaired later? It can hardly be fashionable to be seen in public in a torn uniform!"

Thaddeus rolls his eyes.