NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Continuation (as per Alcona and Hubris suggestion) that DB and myself split our negotiation thread away from the main Neo-Tyr one. This is totally closed, unless someone in the main thread winds up joining us.

(Still writing up IC response)

Wallace may have only been a police sergeant, but the Empire was adhering to an old, if rather crude, saying; "be careful of the toes trodden on today, because they may be connected to the butt that has to be kissed tomorrow". Wallace wouldn't always be a sergeant, and the Empire believed that someone dispatched on such an important mission was probably marked for bigger and better things... in any case, the First Minister had returned from leave, and was on the warpath about something; it was commonly considered better for a Minister's health if she could be delayed as long as possible.

"Of course, ma'am." O'Malley replied to the information about the preferred title, noting it down, before looking back up at her.
"The Ministry has arranged for a reasonable break, of a few days, between your meetings, as well as a possible extension should additional meetings be required. I'm sure there will be more than enough time for you to see our capital," the last was said with a large smile, clearly appreciative and happy of her comment.

The limo crossed a wide thoroughfare, leaving the glass and steel precinct behind; now far older buildings loomed around them, mostly granite faced, however marble trim could be seen on the arches. The effect was austere, and somewhat intimidating. This was not a fickle or light-hearted part of the city. That said, there continued to be greenery scattered among the grey stone, providing a welcome break. The limo turned into a large square; the traffic had thinned considerably when they left the steel and glass, and was now gone completely.

"We have arrived." O'Malley announced, exiting in one smooth motion.
A protocol officer opened the door, and Wallace gracefully climbed out of the car, then stopped.

Towering over them was massive stone edifice of; differing tints and colours spoke of differing architectural periods and eras in construction. Closest to them, at the head of a broad range of stairs, was a facade of Greek columns, in white marble. Across the arches the flowing native script ran; most likely the building's name.

The building climbed ever higher behind the arches; gothic towers reached for the heavens, and as the eye travelled higher, a pattern could be discerned. The towers were actually stationed along curtain walls, arranged in concentric rings that climbed upwards and inwards. Arches could be seen linking the towers, and connecting them to other buildings. Wallace's eye traced one line of arches, and suddenly realised that the construction fooled perception; the whole thing was even larger than she first thought, and was not even one building, but a collection, which had grown and melded over the centuries. The second thing to strike her was the realisation that this place, maybe not this section, but what it represented, was ancient; hundreds, more likely several thousand years old.

In front of them, before the steps, was a marble statue of a handsome young man, clad in Romanesque armour, one hand reaching for the heavens, the other curled around a staff. Carved into the plinth were the words "CONSTANTINE AVGVSTVS REX-IMPERATOR".

Except for Wallace's companions, and a set of motionless guards before the columns, the area appeared deserted.

"Ma'am, welcome to the Houses of Parliament," O'Malley said. "I'm sorry," he added, mistaking her silence, "but they insisted on you being brought in via one of the smaller entrances. I would have taken you via the main entrance, but..." he shrugged.
"If you would please come this way..." he held out one hand.

"Oh what?" Wallace had been in a dream world. Cyro's houses of Parliament were big, partly because they were all one giant building, but they squat, like a huge brick that had been dropped onto an island in the middle of Cyro, (although a fairly aesthetic brick). This one was also lacking in the little pits thats bullets knocked out and niches where someone's statue had once been.

"No, don't mind me. Very impressive complex you have." she smiled, "Wouldn't have even known it was the back door if you hadn't told me."

They were right, Wallace was marked for bigger things. Dyelli Beybi had come out of a period of civil war and chaos and was trying to reform it's image into that of a respectable first world State. She was exactly the kind of Commisaar they needed in the post Tzarist world to front the Cheka. She may be a little lazy, but she also didn't have anything violent on her record, while still having served in the Civil War.

She wasn't certain why O'Malley was holding out his hand, although she had the vague notion she'd probably understand had she been born into the nobility, but then again if that had been the case she'd probably be in a crocodile's belly. Instead she gave him a warm smile, a flash of perfectly aligned white teeth, the kind of smile that made her instantly endearing to most men, "Lead on and I'll follow."

O'Malley grinned in reply, and dropped his hand.
"Right this way, ma'am."
He led her up the stairs, and into the building. They crossed a foyer, made of white marble with decorations in gold leaf that was, nevertheless, very austere, and then entered what O'Malley only half-jokingly called "the warren"; a complex network of passages, offices and chambers hidden behind the entrance halls.
The place was teeming with people, all hurrying along on unknown business.
They must have passed over a thousand different ones as they weaved their way through the structure, all of them in constant motion, and still more briefly visible in offices; what was amazing was that every one of them seemed to know O'Malley, often greeting him by name. At one point Wallace realised that their security escort had disappeared. A few more steps and she realised that only one of the protocol officers remained, the rest having vanished earlier.

As they turned into one corridor, wider than most, there was a sudden commotion ahead, then the bustle froze as people hurriedly made way for another group, numbering around eight, which was marching down the corridor; in the centre was an older, gaunt man with iron-grey hair, wearing a dark suit, surrounded by other people of varying ages and differing genders who were all similarly dressed, except for one woman in a military uniform.
Wordlessly, O'Malley gently guided Wallace into the shelter of a doorway, allowing the group to go past without slowing.
The party swept past Wallace and O'Malley without a second glance, setting a pace which would reduce most people in minutes, but Wallace fancied she caught the words "... hell! She's on the warpath about something..." from the gaunt man, and then they were gone.

"The Deputy External Affairs Minister, Ethelred Aldreset," whispered O'Malley, by way of explanation, before the corridor sprang back into life, and they continued hurrying to their destination.

Finally, after what felt like miles, they were ushered through a mid-sized office into another, rather larger, one, with windows that looked out over an interior garden.

"The Junior Minister of External Affairs, Baron Mordecai Alscarna, Commissar Wallace of Dyelli Beybi." O'Malley announced.

Baron Alscarna, a tall man of later middle years, with an average face, and brown eyes with fading auburn hair, was almost invisible behind several stacks of paper that occupied his desk.
"Ah, yes," he said coming around from behind his desk, with a broad smile. "The radiant Sergeant Wallace of Dyelli Beybi," he added, taking Wallace's right hand and shaking it firmly. "Pleased to make your acquaintance Commissar."
Behind them a secretary slipped into the room and removed the stacks of paper one at a time.
"Please, sit down. Can I offer you something after your journey? Tea? Coffee? A bite to eat perhaps?"
The Baron's entire manner radiated helpful concern for his guest.

Possibly, Wallace mused to herself, she might have the wrong end of the stick, but it looked like the Deputy External Affairs Minister was wearing a military uniform. That wasn't exactly what one would call normal. Neither was a Minister making an arrest. Then it dawned on her, it might actually be the Minister getting arrested. It was all riddles, and none of her business really. She forced the thoughts to the back of her mind as she entered the Minister's office, giving a short, amused laugh as he greeted her, "You flatter me your Lordship. It is a great honour to be able to meet with you, and I must apologise in advance that we were only able to send a Police Sergeant, rather than a more Senior Commisaar."

She was smiling, quite genuinely, Baron Alscarna seemed to be a decent sort of man, "They fed me on the plane, but I wouldn't say no to a cup of tea, thank you for the offer. No doubt though you'll be eager to hear why the State deemed it pertinent to send an emissary to your fine country rather than just a letter?"

The Baron smiled again in response to her compliment, and looked over Wallace's shoulder, releasing her hand.
"Tea for our guest, Ms. Wilson," and to Wallace, "Do you have a preference? Or will plain tea suffice?"
When she had answered him, he looked over her shoulder again and called it out, adding "... and could I have some First Minister's Own please? Thank you."

The Baron looked at Wallace again.
"Please, have a seat." he invited, moving back around to sit behind his own desk. As he did so, the Commissar noted two folders on it. One was sitting in the middle; of the two, it was lighter in colour but at least an inch thick, and on its side, in heavy official font, was written "Secrétariat D'état pour L'aide et Les Efforts Humanitaires: Rapport Spécial sur la Situation dans Néo-Tyr (avec l'entrée de La Croix Rouge de Macisikani)" Secretariat of State for Aid and Humanitarian Efforts; Special Report on the Situation in Neo-Tyr (with input from the Macisikani Red Cross)
The second one, which was perched precariously on the edge of the desk, had the words "Secrétariat D'état Pour La Sécurité Impériale" written on it. As Wallace watched, the secretary removed that one, replacing it with one with the words "Secrétariat D'état Pour L'immigration et Le Tourisme" on the side. It was clearly for a later appointment, as Baron Alscarna ignored it completely, while the first occupied centre stage.

As she settled a cup, milk, sugar and a pot of tea were placed in front of her, while a steaming mug was placed in front of the Baron; the thick scent of coffee rose from it.

Clasping his hands in front of him the Baron smiled again; the lines on his face told Wallace that he smiled often, and rarely frowned.

"But it is common courtesy to be polite to one's guests, no matter where they come from or what their title is. A title is but words after all," he said in reply to her earlier response as he took a careful sip from his mug.
"The important thing is that an envoy is here, no matter the rank; as a matter of fact," he continued, setting the mug down, "I am quite interested to hear as to why an envoy was sent, rather than letters."

Wallace had asked (if it wasn't too much bother) for Earl Grey tea, which was similar to what the Dyellians usually drank (A mixture of normal dried tea leaves and fresh bergamot).

"Thank you." she smiled at the aide who brought the drinks.

As a Commisaar, Wallace also had a fair smattering of European languages. She was hardly fluent in any of them, but understood the meaning of all three dossiers. Imperial Security? The fact that the dossier had been covered implied she probably wasn't supposed to have seen it. Perhaps something was rotten in the State of Macisikan, again Wallace decided to ignore it for now. Macisikan's internal politics was really none of her business.

She took a few moments to straighten her skirts as she sat down, crossing her legs, then busying herself, pouring a cup of tea, "Macisikani hospitality is definantely deserving of note." she remarked, adding milk and two teaspoons of sugar, she seemed to have a sweet tooth.

It was something she'd developed in later life, having never really had access to sugar until after the revolution, "Even so, the State would have prefered to send someone more Senior to attend in the first true contact between the United Republics and Macisikan, unfortunately though with the Neo Tyr situation, most Senior Commisaars are fairly tied down."

She took a sip from her own cup, "Mmmhm yes, where was I? My reason for being here, well it was felt that considering the gravity of the situation in Neo Tyr that it was felt that we really needed to send someone to establish some kind of working relationship between Dyelli Beybi and Macisikan."

She paused, giving a wry smile, "It sometimes seems like we're the only State in the Klatchian Federation with any particular interest in preserving human rights. Alcona and Hubris seem to, but we don't exactly have the greatest record for cooperation with that State."

That was an understatement. The amount of times Dyelli Beybi had accused Alcona and Hubris of corruption and attempting to build a Klatchian dictatorship was uncountable, while the Alconians tended to view them as lazy treacherous and thieving.

The Baron smiled again in appreciation of Wallace's compliment, then grew serious as she continued speaking.

He paused for a few seconds before replying.
"The Acting First put me in charge of of our involvement in Neo-Tyr, and I've been confirmed in that role by the First-" at three o'clock in the damned morning, does that woman ever sleep? "- now that she's back. We've been getting some extremely favourable responses from the Alconians? I am pronouncing that correctly? Good, from the Alconians. They are very concerned about Klatch's international image right now." The Baron shrugged. "To be perfectly frank with you Commissar, Klatch's image here isn't so much mud as manure. The opposition leadership is one step, one very small step, away of accusing them of deliberately destroying Kyrall, not to mention that the Midlonian deportations have provided them with so much dung, as it were. It's all our people have been able to do to keep your nation and the Alconians from being tarred with the same brush; mind you, you have made it easier by actually being concerned about human rights."
He touched the dossier in front of him.
"MCR's reports have actually been quite favourable to you. They say that your nation was constantly been at the forefront of attempts to restrain the other Klatchian forces, but that's an aside right now. Aldir has been making a lot of political mileage out of this; with a general election on the horizon, it's something we don't need right now," he finished with a sigh.

Of course the Baron wasn't saying anything that Wallace couldn't have found out by watching Parliamentary Question Time on MNB 5.

Aldreset then continued, clasping his hands in front of him and staring into Wallace's eyes, emphasising the seriousness of the matter. "You may have heard reports of communications with other nations; a few grumblings from the international community. Commissar, I'm going to let you in on a little secret; we have had telegrams sent to us from other countries, and they are rather unhappy with the Klatch as a whole because of Neo-Tyr. These aren't little tin-pot dictatorships from out the back end of the Horn of Africa either. These are big countries. Nuclear states. Heads of multi-national alliances. Serious countries. Seriously unhappy."
The Baron paused to take a sip.
"Oh, they're not pleased with Neo-Tyr either; interfere with internal politics of another nation and if you come second you take the hit, they say. And they're not exactly happy with the slavery practice either. But they think that the Klatch are being far too harsh; vastly overreacting as it were. We've heard the phrases "Crimes Against Humanity", "War Crimes" and the word "Genocide" banded about," he paused and took a deep breath.
"To be frank, we are most likely, currently, to be Klatch's best friend in the international community involved in Neo-Tyr, and while Dyelli Beybi and Alcona and Hubris are thought of as decent nations, we are slightly upset with the rest of the Klatch."

A sly smile was begining to creep across the young Commisaar's face, "Major powers you say?"

She immediately changed tack, "Well if the opposition is gaining mileage out of this, perhaps you should take a stronger stance, I really doubt Klatch would be prepared to do anything, especially when it's as bitterly divided as it is at the moment."

She sighed, all traces of the smile gone, "This is where Dyelli Beybi's problems begin. Many of the Klatchian States, well two in particular, view Dyelli Beybi as having betrayed Klatch in it's attempts to reduce some of the excesses of other States. In the event of a war, the Cheka is worried we may end up being 'hung out to dry' if an enemy invasion route goes through us, or even stabbed in the back by some of the more Imperialistic States."

"On the other hand." she continued, "We'll make no effort to defend those States which have so vehemently opposed the establishment of a War Crimes Tribunal, and thus recklessly endangered Klatch by opening it up to foreign reprisals. I might add, especially not towards Midlonia, despite the fact that Neo Tyr also practices slavery, their actions are still inexcusable."

She took a moment to hook a stray strand of hair back behind her ear, "How's the old expression go, 'Evil persists while good people do nothing?'"

"Anyway." she smiled apologetically for drifting off the point, "Something needs to be done, and it cannot be done within the Klatchian framework. Might it be possible for Macisikan to organise a summit with concerned International parties. Preferably with selected Regional Klatchian authorities, those being Dyelli Beybi and Alcona and Hubris also invited?"

There was the barest hint of a flicker in the Baron's eyes at her sly smile, no more. He was a seasoned politician, and had been mentally jousting with people far more canny than Wallace since well before the Dyellian Revolution.

"The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing," the Baron quoted, before continuing.
"We could take a stronger stance on the matter... but there is the question of if it is really necessary to do so..." he said, letting his voice trail off, allowing his implication to sink in.
"Now, as to the matter of a multi-lateral conference, hosted I assume somewhere in Macisikan, that can be arranged. I will need to secure Cabinet, and probably parliamentary, approval, and so I cannot make any firm commitments, but I can tell you that your proposal will be given serious consideration. As to the attendees, I can make inquiries on these lines, but any real diplomatic overtures will require approval from higher up. Not to mention that we'd need to know that the Klatchian delegates have sufficient plenipotentiary status to make a mark on what is happening in Neo-Tyr prior to any firm commitment."

"Necessary to do so?" Wallace was a fairly inexperienced negotiator, but even she had noticed the slight conflict in what the Baron had said, "No probably not, but I would have thought it would have been adviseable, considering you are entering election year, from what I can work out it would do nothing but help your poll results, and it would certainly help us if the rest of Klatch thought it's actions weren't going to be ignored."

The second comment brought her smile back again, "Of course. While Vrak holds the Presidency, it is expected that Dyelli Beybi and Alcona and Hubris will control the Privy Council within the next couple of weeks, which means that representatives from our two States will have direct control over the National Military and limited authority over provincial forces."

Some of the words the Baron had used had sailed right over Wallace's head, but she forged on anyway, plenipotentiary status, sounded like some kind of lung disease... best to feign knowlege of the subject though.

She didn't like given serious consideration, it was, in her experience, usually used as a polite refusal, "Of course we would also need Parliamentary approval for such a matter, but it would be more of a formality."

It usually was with Parliament. A lot of the MPs were so in awe of Felix Dzerzhinsky that they did what he said.

The Baron smiled grimly.
"Parliament is currently going through what we term a "Realignment"," again, something that could have been gotten off of MNB. "It's when each of the MP's, usually and currently in the House of Lords, reconsiders their commitment to their parties and policies. Oh, don't worry," he waved a hand, "the government won't fall, we have too many key families on side for that. But we do have to listen to our support base as it shifts. Now, the Reps is suspended; the coming elections will be the first in nearly twenty years." A note of pride touched his voice. It had been the current government, and the current King, who had made the necessary reforms to restore democracy. "The Realignment is only a third of the way through; this one is a big one, and it also reaches to the House of Deputies... nevermind, O'Malley will be able to answer your questions. The point is that the realignment will finishing around election day, and that, like it or not, our internal politics are very much relevant; our government isn't like other nations'. If we lose Parliamentary support, then the government falls. Now, I've said that won't happen; the First Minister is too good for that. But we will have to make concessions to varying blocs. Again, O'Malley can explain; I'm not allowed. Parliamentary Conduct Rules."

The Baron stopped to take a drink, having talked himself dry. In the distance, chimes began to sound, counting the hour.

"But this information about the Klatchian Council is most heartening, as is your news about your Parliament's likely reaction. I can tell you that no matter the results of the realignment, or the election, we can host the conference, if we know that what comes out of it won't disappear into a wastepaper basket in Klatch. I can also tell you, mainly because it's official policy and has been for a long time now, that we won't be taking a more proactive stance, due to the Neutrality principle; Macisikan doesn't take sides. We express our feelings on the matter, and issue statements, send aid every now and again, but we don't take sides."

There was a knock on the door.
"Come in," the Baron called.
"Sorry to interrupt Minister, but the Secretary of State for Immigration and Tourism is here."
"If you could just give us a few moments please Ms. Wilson."
"Of course Minister."
The door closed.

"Thank you for coming Commissar, we will be having another meeting, the day after tomorrow, before we meet with Dame Kimberly. I will have your proposal put on the next Cabinet Meeting Agenda-" the Baron scribbled a note "-for discussion tomorrow... and O'Malley will be at your disposal to show you around our city, and answer any questions you might have about our meeting that I can't..."
He looked up again.
"Do you have anything else I can answer before Dame Lavina is shown in?"

It was the Baron's intention that O'Malley answer those questions that he couldn't, owing to the fact that he was a Minister in the government and an M.P., and it would've been bad form to speak his mind. Not only that, but O'Malley would be able to give Wallace a far more accurate picture of the situation in Macisikan than he would, for the same reasons.

"The fact that we are requesting this conference should suggest we intend to take it seriously. Naturally Dyelli Beybi respects Macisikan's wish for neutrality, however we hope to be able to find someone through such a conference, willing to take a stronger stance on the matter."

Wallace sensed she had made no headway whatsoever, however she was still in a good mood, two days until the next meeting meant she would have an opportunity to mess around a bit. She shook her head when asked if she had any more questions, "No, Baron, thank you for your time."

After leaving the office she didn't speak, a thoughtful expression on her face. She didn't speak to O'Malley, letting him start off any conversation.

The Baron smiled tightly in response, and shook her hand before she left, saying only "I look forward to resuming in a few days."

O'Malley was also quiet, until they had left the suite surrounding the Junior Minister's office.

Wordlessly, the two of them hurried back through the labyrthine corridors, only stopping once; again, the Deputy Minister, Aldreset, was storming along the passageway, his escorts nearly running to keep up, and again everyone got out of the way. The Deputy Minister was using words that Wallace would have never expected someone of that level to use in front of their subordinates; he was clearly unhappy about something.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," O'Malley muttered after the Deputy Minister had disappeared in a cloud of invective.

After what seemed like several kilometres of corridor, the two of them, now joined by a security escort, once again stood on the steps of the Houses of Parliament, where O'Malley paused halfway down the steps, staring at the back of the statue's head.
"Don't worry; the Imperial Government can be so uncooperative that it can make a bull elephant with a toothache look like a worker ant," he said softly. "You actually did quite well in there, getting your proposal put onto tomorrow's Cabinet meeting. Alscarna will see it done - he's an honourable man, almost to a fault in some cases. But remember; the Baron is by far one of the most benign members of the Government... the First Minister isn't nicknamed the Iron Maiden for nothing and there are quite a few Secretaries of State whose names I dare not say into the mirror three times."

The young man paused thoughtfully, before continuing in a lighter tone and louder voice.
"Madam Commissar, is there anywhere you would like to go, a place to visit perhaps? I am at your disposal."

"Seems they're generally a bit tougher than our lot back home." Wallace grumbled, but with a slight smile that conveyed the fact that she was finding the whole situation strangely amusing.

"Well I hear I've got quite a bot of time off." she said, stating the obvious, "I think though that being as I know very little about this country, it would probably be more accurate for me to say I'm entirely at your disposal Mr. O'Malley... or would it be better to say at your mercy?"

The half smile was forming at the corner of her mouth again. She had dimples when she smiled, that acted to make her look even younger than she was. Dyelli Beybi definantely picked it's diplomats young. Perhaps it was something to do with the revolution?

O'Malley grinned in response. Not his usual measured smile; this was a full grin.
"I could inflict the National Archives on you... you'd learn a huge amount about our politics, culture and so on, but you'd die of old age long before you finished... no, I have a better idea. C'mon," he said, bouncing down to where the limo waited, pulling out a mobile phone as he did so.
"Mark 12," was all he said when they gone in, speaking to the driver, before chattering away in high-speed Macisikani down the phone for the entirety of the ten-minute trip out of the Parliamentary Precinct.
----
The limo pulled up in front of a plaza, paved with granite, surrounded by a number of buildings from varying periods; a Gothic Church stood next to sandstone restaurant, which sat next to a Tudor-style pub, which itself was next to a relatively normal looking café.
Placed in the centre of the plaza was a statute of a woman on a rearing horse, sword unsheathed.
Around her, hundreds of people were constantly moving from one place to another; young people, old people, men, women, black, white, students, bankers, people from all walks of life.
"Sergeant Wallace, welcome to the V7 Plaza," O'Malley said, before climbing out of the car; he hadn't said anything about their destination, but judging by this, it seemed like lunch was on the agenda.
O'Malley was silent as he led the Dyellian straight across the plaza, skirting the base of the statue; Wallace noted the inscription on the base, which explained the Plaza's name; it read "VICTORIA VII DE'MALK'AI REGINA IMPERIA"
As they crossed, Wallace noticed that she drew a fair number of admiring glances, and not only from the young men.
O'Malley led her into one of the more contemporary buildings; the motif read "King Mark XII Café".
Jazz was softly playing in the background, and there were several groups, mostly wearing the same cut of clothes as O'Malley, but a fair number who might as well have had "student" in a neon sign above their heads. None of them paid the newcomers the slightest notice.
One thing did jumped out at Wallace above all else; it was a small plaque on a pillar, which, in old English script proclaimed in several languages that "On this spot, in 1752, King-Emperor Marcus XII de'Makara had tea and biscuits. His wife had a bun, with currents in it".
O'Malley led her across to a corner booth, one side of which looked out through tinted glass onto the plaza.
No sooner had the two of them sat down when a rather pretty waitress approached the table.
"Would you like anything to begin?" she asked politely.
"Two teas please," O'Malley replied, "an RC and a DBR."
"Sure thing," the waitress made a note and disappeared.
"OK," O'Malley turned to Wallace, "First thing's first; Macisikani never negotiate or discuss important matters without a cup of tea or coffee. Hot chocolate is acceptable. And even trivial matters will normally not be discussed without a cup of something steaming. There isn't a particular cultural attachment to any one of the three types of drink, but the divide is roughly 50/30/20 for tea, coffee and hot chocolate. We are big on our tea."
He paused for a moment, and the waitress re-materialised next to the table, handing out cups, pots, milk, and sugar.
"One Russian Caravan sir, and a Dyellian Regular for you ma'am, leaf. I shall return in about ten to take your order," and she bustled off.
O'Malley smiled, and reached over to pour the milk into first Wallace's cup, then his own. "In that vein remember that no matter what variety of tea you drink, we probably have it, even the type you drink back in Dyelli Beybi. The second thing you should know is that even when negotiating with their most detested enemies the Macisikani will offer food, drink, and a spot by the fire," he continued, pouring the tea in, and offering the sugar to Wallace. "The cause is two-fold; first, you'll be much more amiable if you're comfortable. No point antagonising the other party by being petty in the negotiations. The second, much more important, factor is cultural; the traditional offering to a guest, and yes, they think of a foreign envoy as a guest, the offering is of food, warmth, and shelter, and it must be made, to everyone. Don't ask why; they won't understand the question."
He paused to take a sip.
"In that line, they have an annoying habit of being unfailingly polite at all times. Oh, they can be very foul-mouthed; I've heard small children use words I've had to go and look up, and old ladies use words that even street kids don't. But they don't do it lightly; you saw Aldreset going off? I expect that the First has dumped the entire Rotovian situation on him, probably at 4 o'clock this morning. But back to the point; they are usually extremely polite, and for a good reason; look out the window? Notice anything common to most of them?"
He pointed through the glass.

Wallace took the opportunity to smile at any male who particularly caught her eye, she was nothing if not flirtatious (which only added to her poor reputation), but as a uniformed Cheka agent, people tended to try not to get in her way, part of the reason she'd been more than happy to shed the uniform once she hit Macisikan.

She listened with an intent expression to what O'Malley had to say, nodding occasionally to show she was listening, but not interupting, although she did comment when the tea arrived, "Well you certainly do know how to treat your visitors, makes me feel right at home."

Her accent, as always was pure Dyellian, which meant most people would mistake her for Irish. (ooc: can't remember if I mentioned the Dyellian accent) When O'Malley questioned her though, she began to look a little puzzled, looking out the window with a faint frown. She continued to look out the window, hooking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, as she did so, but eventually shrugged, "To be honest no."

Wallace gave an apologetic smile, "Sorry, I must be being completely unobservant, what is common to most of them?"

OOC: Yup, but in another thread. Doesn't matter; I kind of forgot...

IC:

Most of the Macisikani who Wallace smiled at didn't blush or look away, but instead smiled back; Imperials had a different attitude towards the whole area from other nations - those who had criticised Wallace for being a flirt in Dyelli Beybi would themselves be considered rather prudish by the Macisikani.

O'Malley had smiled in acknowledgement of Wallace's comment about the tea, and it lingered on in his eyes, although the rest of his manner was serious.

"Look around the waist. It's the swords. See them? Everyone you see who isn't wearing a sword probably has a dagger, and those who are unarmed are proficient enough in unarmed combat not to need the blade. You are polite becuase if you are rude then the result could be a knife-fight, or broken necks, which no-one wants. The habit of being polite and respectful then permeates every part of their lives. Which leads me to the next point; never confuse politeness with weakness - don't believe, even for an instant, that just because they're being nice that they aren't as tough as nails. Parliament is a prime example; they will never, never, be so rude as to say call you a, what is the term?" O'Malley snapped his fingers, "that's it; a "sand rat", no offence. Never. But there are only two forces in this universe, or any other for that matter, that can get them to do what they truly do not wish to. But it's their job to be obstructionist, to balance out powers so that no single person can be a dictator."
O'Malley paused to take another sip.
"Which leads me to the next point. Religion, the Church, and the King-Emperor; above all else there are two powers in the Empire that must not be alienated... His Imperial Majesty and our Holy Mother the Maciskan Orthodox Church. The King-Emperor will never directly oppose Parliament; it simply is Not Done. If he does, then he is no King-Emperor, but a pretender to the Throne Of Light. The Church holds its domain is the spiritual, not the temporal; they try not to get involved, though a small mount of crossover is inevitable. But, if you annoy one, you annoy the other, and when either gets annoyed, Parliament... well, let's just say that it's better not to be around. And this finally ties me into Neo-Tyr. Your allies in the Federation are starting to annoy the Church; the brethren, and sisteren of course, don't like slavers or murderers. North Germania has fallen into the latter category; Midlonia both. And the Klatch as a whole don't lift a finger; no wonder the isolationists in Parliament are doing so well - they don't even have to look for effigies to burn. Lucky for you, Dyelli Beybi is held up as the opposite."

At that point the waitress returned.

"What can I get you Ma'am?" She asked with a polite smile.

Wallace continued to nod along, "You're begining to make me nervous Mr O'Malley." she said, her faint smile suggesting she wasn't nervous at all, "You're telling me that everyone around here is armed and dangerous?"

In Dyelli Beybi the police ruled the streets, anyone who was armed was likely to spend a night in the cells, then face charges, but then again Dyelli Beybi was still something of an unstable State, "Never fear that we will confuse politeness with weakness, from personal experience, rudeness tends to conceal fear."

Here she was thinking of the Alconians, who were generally about as polite as a kick in the backside, and who she was convinced were at least worried by the Revolution. Most Klatchian nobility with any sense probably were at least mildly concerned by the possibility of Dyelli Beybi's bloody Revolution to export itself with or without the aid of the Cheka.

"You're going to have to explain the practices of your Church to me." she confessed, taking a sip from her own teacup, "The Church in Dyelli Beybi is also fairly important, but I'm sure you already knew that."

It was common knowlege that the Roman Catholic Church in Dyelli Beybi, while generally keeping out of politics, could spell the rise and fall of Governments if it decided to start preaching against any of the parties.

The waitress seemed to take her by surprise, "Oh um, well to be honest I'm not entirely certain what's on the menu." she looked back at O'Malley, "Any suggestions?"

"Depends on how hungry you're feeling. If you're famished, then a steak is probably the best option. For a medium meal, I'd suggest the nachos or maybe one of the sandwiches. A light meal could range anywhere from a croissant to a bowl of chips, or a salad."
He paused and smiled at the waitress.
"I'll have a Mark 12 Club Sandwich, thanks."
"Certainly sir," she replied, before taking Wallace's order.
"Ten minutes," she said, then disappeared again.

O'Malley turned back to Wallace.
"Would you rather they were carrying guns?" he asked bluntly jabbing his thumb out the window. "The blade is a weapon of honour; and all must be able to defend themselves. The gun is a weapon of war; anyone outside of the police or military who is carrying one is either secret services of some sort, a foreign guard for an ambassador or dignitary, or a criminal. Most likely a foreign criminal; they don't realise that if you try and use a gun on civilians here, you're liable to be run through before you can pull the trigger," he shook his head. "No, the blade or the hand allows the locals to keep their cultural heritage and honour, without creating potential for havoc. You see, there's an unwritten law; never, ever, be the first to draw your blade unless lives are at risk."

He stopped to call a waiter over and ask for a bottle of water.

"The Church? Well, the Church's origins aren't known. We think that the Christian faith came here in the 4th Century, but have no way of proving it. It could have come here earlier. The important thing is that it's had a very long time to develop and grow; all other denominations in the Empire combined, including atheism and agnosticism, make up barely 3% of the population, despite the lack of religious persecution here since the 1700's. It's also developed for about 1500 years in total isolation from the other faiths; there are differences. The features that Maciskan Orthodoxy shares with other Eastern Orthodox churches include emphasis on the Trinity, albeit an unusual interperetation, the idea that sin is an individual, rather than abstract, notion, and the rejection of the notion of mortal sins. But the most telling difference between Maciskan Orthodox and other variants is the use of a formal hierarchy; the Archbishop of Navisal is the equivelent position of the Catholic Pope - the formal title is "Cenobriach". You better know the current one as the King-Emperor. The real power and authority in the Church, however, is vested in the Bishop of Navisal, also called the First Cardinal or the Patriarch or Matriarch of Navisal. Note again; they, we, aren't picky about gender. There is no law of God that says women aren't able to serve as readily as men, and so they are as readily promoted."

O'Malley paused to take a drink of water.

"That's the short and nasty version of it, but the clearest. Suffice to say that the Church and the State are intertwined to such an extent here that it's hard to tell the two apart at times, in fact at the upper echelons they seem to merge. The Church should not be angered; they are quite willing to listen to attacks upon their doctrines, even challenges to their authority, as long as these can be justified. The thing is, they tend to be put out by seemingly senseless attacks, or acts of violence, like Kyrall. Don't get me wrong; like the State, the Church thinks that Neo Tyr had it coming for interfering in your internal politics. It's the extreme nature of the response that has their noses out of joint. Honestly, where did North Germania learn crowd control? The notion of mortal sin, sin that is totally unforgivable, is rejected, but the Klatchian leaders are walking along a path that's going to see them condemned to the big hot place, if you get my drift.
"Now the question is; what does this have to do with Neo Tyr, Klatch, etc. and us? The answer is; isolationism. Currently the Church is divided; pull back from the world, or remain involved. The second position is weakening, fast. As the Church's resolve for the nation to remain involved in the world weakens, Parliament's falls dramatically. The King-Emperor is shifting position even now towards the isolationist camp, and his aunt, the First Minister, is keeping pace with him. Soon, within the next year or two if I'm any judge, we'll quietly slip off the world stage. But it can't happen while entanglements like Neo Tyr remain," O'Malley said with a sigh.

"The truth, plain and simple is that the Imperial Government would like nothing more than for Neo Tyr to just go away, and stop being a problem. And the easiest way for this to happen is for your Klatchian friends to behave themselves," he finished.

O'Malley's advice had been pretty vague, so Wallace just copied his order, "Same here thanks."

The whole Marks of sandwiches was in her opinion very odd. It felt like she was ordering a tank.

"If we let the civilians carry swords in Dyelli Beybi, all hell would break lose." she said, still sounding a little dubious about heavily armed civilians. If she were to call the Dyellian people 'criminally inclined' it wouldn't be the first time it had been done. Everyone in the sprawling Union of Republics seemed to be out to make a quick Kronor (although the Police, Military and other Government services were mostly non-corrupt these days).

"Since you've put it so simply." she replied to the next point, "I'll give you the simple answer."

"We can't." She gave an apologetic smile, "Dyelli Beybi is something of a toothless tiger in Klatchian politics, courtesy mostly to our dear, dear friends in Alcona and Hubris, who no doubt are even now plotting to make sure Dyelli Beybi doesn't regain it's Privy Council seat. They seem to just oppose us on the principle of the matter."

"You could say this mission is an attempt on our part to grow some fangs. Then we can make Neo Tyr go away, which is in the best interests of both our Governments."

"Well, of course you understand that we can not and will not interfere in Klatchian internal politics-"
A shrill ringing abruptly rent the air; someone's mobile phone.
Muttering an apology, O'Malley pulled his out and fired rapid, short, Macisikani phrases down the line. As the call progressed his face grew drawn and grave. After only five minutes he hung up.
"This is very bad. That was the Minister. No, not the one you met; his boss. The Greens just tabled the news about Neo-Tyr's slaves in open Parliament, which in time-honoured fashion has hit the roof. Slavery, well, it's... not looked kindly on." O'Malley's face suggested that he'd found better things stuck to his shoes.
"Actually, to be frank, there are very few things that are worse; genocide for example. Practising it is a fast track to being publicly hung, drawn, and quartered, and that's just the student groups. You don't want to know what the Church thinks about it, let alone the King... but the point is, the point is, that it's about five minutes until Parliament trundles out every anti-slavery law in the books. In fact, the Minister said that they're starting with a seventeenth century one forbidding Government aid to anyone who engages in slavery. Eat up; we have to get back. And soon."

"Wallace didn't seem even slightly concerned that her mission had apparently become of no consequence whatsoever, "I expect they'll just politely tell me that there's no point looking for further support on the Neo Tyr front?" she suggested.

Nevertheless she did hurry her meal, interspersing it with a brief and fairly confusing comentary on Dyelli Beybian politics, "To be perfectly frank it's quite unusual for us to involve ourselves with a Nation like Neo Tyr. With most of the Defence forces and Politicians being former freed slaves and all..."

She shrugged, seemingly uninterested in the strange goings on in Parliament and Benjia House.

Twenty minutes later Wallace was again being hustled through the warren. The trip back from the Café had seen the normally talkative and unbeat O'Malley quiet and preoccupied, only breaking out of his silence to answer his phone, which had buzzed with monotonous regularity.
If Wallace had a good memory and a good sense of direction she would soon have worked out that they were delving deeper into the Houses of Parliament then they had on their past visit; almost twice the distance to Alscarna's office was covered.
The architectural style changed several times; from modern office, to 1900's panelling, to almost medieval stonework, then back to the 1900's panelling.
At last the stood in the antechamber of a large office; several aides were hurrying out, briefly blocking the door, which the last one pulled closed.
"She'll be with you in a moment," he whispered, before hurrying after his colleagues.
Behind a desk a secretary glanced at them, then went back to typing something.
After a few brief minutes Baron Alscarna walked in, nodding to Wallace and O'Malley, before moving to lean over the secretary's desk, where there was a brief, whispered, conversation, which ended in the secretary picking up a phone and pressing a button. Her voice was too low for Wallace or O'Malley to hear, but after a few words she looked up and waved all three people in.

The inner office was larger and richer than Alscarna's, with larger windows that looked out over a nicer interior garden. but it was clear from the layout that everything here served a purpose. Wallace noticed an unmade cot in one corner; evidently the occupant, seated behind a large mahogany desk marking something in a dossier of some description, worked very late into the night.

Speaking of the occupant, she (another thing Wallace noted was that there were a large number of women in power; evidently the Empire didn't give a damn about which gender someone was), was waving them to sit down in the three comfy chairs in front of her desk as she closed the dossier. It was hard to judge her height, but it looked as though she was only as tall as Wallace herself, and she sported the same pale skin as Alscarna, though her hair was a richer auburn colour, and her eyes were somewhere between green and blue. She looked to be about forty, but her eyes betrayed an extra decade or two.

"Sergeant Wallace I presume? Please, sit down. Tea? We have your Dyellian leaf. Or maybe you'd prefer coffee? A snack perhaps?" When Wallace's needs were seen to (and cups and pots of tea and coffee set down in front of the others), the women shuffled the dossier off to one side; the words "Secrétariat D'état pour La Sécurité Impériale: Arrangements Spéciaux pour la Boule Masquée de L'Roi-Empere [dans la célébration année de Hon Majesté Impériale de la dixième de la règle]" were clearly visible, and the other didn't make any attempt to hide them.

"I am the Lady Justina Valdir, the Marchioness of Valdester, His Imperial Majesty's Minister for External Affairs, and once played the part of a female Tybalt in my high school's production of Romeo and Juliet," the last non-sequitur threw Wallace for a very breif moment, but O'Malley was chuckling under his breath; it was clearly intended to merely dispel any tension that was in the room.

"Sorry to pull you two away from lunch, but the situation in Neo Tyr just went pear-shaped," Alscarna gave her a doubting glance over the top of his mug. "Alright, more pear-shaped than usual," she added.
"Our wonderful partners in government coalition have trundled out laws so old that we can hardly understand what they're saying in order to stifle our aid commitments to Neo Tyr, and it looks like they're going to get what they want the bastards," the last was said all in one breath. "So you're probably wondering why you're sitting in my office instead of a first class flight back home. Well, I have a few questions; first, who is actually in charge of Klatch? I mean, who do we talk to to propose treaties, deal with diplomatically and so on? Secondly, do you, personally, have any idea about what's going to happen with this whole Tyrinian mess?"

Wallace accepted the tea, coffee had for some peculiar reason, never gone down too well in Dyelli Beybi, and with the peculiarly stuborn nature of the average Dyellian, it had become almost a matter of National pride that they didn't drink it.

She nodded along, more or less listening to what was being said, Wallace was in fact as much worried about what the night life was like in Macisikan as anything else. From experience in Klatch the more heavily armed people tended to be less fun.. "Who run's Klatch?"

That was a difficult question, "Thats a very good question. The president, in theory, who is coincidentally the King of Vrak. In practice it seems to be the Landgravine of Alcona and Hubris as much as the Vrakian King, although the power of the National Government is very limited, and it's orders frequently contravened."

The State that most frequently openly ignored National parliament was Dyelli Beybi... in theory they weren't supposed to even know how to spell 'nuclear', but these days were quite openly flaunting their stockpile of missiles. Wallace decided it was probably best to ignore that for the time being, "You can negotiate an Treaty with Klatch as a whole, however most States tend to form such treaties with the individual member States. These treaties are heavily binding. As far as I know Midlonia is the only State which has ever caused problems for the allies of another State in the Federation."

Valdir looked less then impressed at the picture Wallace had drawn of Klatch. The idea being thrown around the government right now was to sign a non-aggression treaty with the Klatch as a whole, hopefully binding on each state, thus formalising Imperial neutrality, but the sheer effort of negotiating with each on of the Klatch's 21 nations was more than the Imperials were willing to do. Valdir now had to explain that, nicely. Considering that she'd had 3 hours sleep in the past two days, it was not going to be easy.
Actually, bugger the diplomacy. Too much effort.
"Commissar, let me put it this way; if I wanted to get Klatch as a whole to sign, ratify, agree to, whatever; be bound by a non-aggression pact with the Empire, how would I do this with the smallest amount of effort possible? Should I go to Vrak, which has a reputation for being as anti-diplomatic as you can get, or to your wonderful friends Alconia and Hubris? Oh, and don't think I didn't notice you forgot to answer my other question; what do you think will happen with that Neo Tyr fiasco?"

Both the men winced at Valdir's impatient tone. Alscarna made an apologetic gesture, while O'Malley stared at a point somewhere in the garden behind the Minister.

Unnoticed, an aide slid into the office and handed Alscarna a note; it told him that the committees had stalled formal recognition of Klatchian rule of Neo Tyr. Red tape was useful at times.

Wallace sighed, "With the whole Federation you say?"

Dyellians were notoriously bad tempered, but she seemed to be keeping her cool at the moment, "Approach Vrak, they hold the Presidency. You might be able to approach Alcona and Hubris. They might speak to Vrak for you, and the Landgravine Hubris, has the President's ear. It would take longer, but might be more likely to succeed."

"What do I think will happen in Neo Tyr?" she shrugged, "I'm no expert, but the feeling around Benjia House is, we're likely to get some kind of explosion of violence against occupying Klatchian forces. A lot of Dyellian troops will die, then the Cyro Government will pull out. Other States will then send in troops, ones with less interest in the Geneva convention, and the Neo Tyrans will be attacked and slaughtered. The insurgents will counterattack and so on until everyone gets bored and decides to retire back to Klatch."

Valdir sighed heavily.
"I was afraid of that. I think we'll just let the issue die in committee; everyone understands our position. We don't take sides. Still, it would have been a nice thing to have..." the Minister's voice trailed off.
"Minister, if I may, such a matter is not really necessary," Alscarna interjected. "As I understand, the Klatch don't attack unless attacked first. Neo Tyr attacked; they got crushed. Being ignored is better then being crushed."
The Minister's gaze fixed on Alscarna; the look she gave him might have spent a thousand years baking on a rock.

"As for the matter of Neo Tyr," she said, as if nothing had happened, her gaze warming as she turned it towards Wallace. "It is our estimation that Neo Tyr will be to Klacth as 18th Century RL Ireland was to the same Britain. You won't hold them forever, unless they choose it. And that is unlikely, given the exemplary conduct of your, ah, counterparts in the Federation. It will most likely be painful, long, bloody, and ultimately, futile," the Minister's tone grew reflective. "At least you don't have a religious insurrection to deal with..." her voice trailed off and she stared into the middle distance for a moment before snapping back to reality.

"Sergeant Wallace, I know you aren't one of the upper crust; I know you aren't a policy maker or shaker, but consider this; if the government in Cryo chooses to stay in Neo Tyr they will have blood on their hands. It's inevitable. But the alternative is worse; would you rather have blood on your hands? Or would you rather be like Pilate, and have water on them?" The questions were clearly rhetorical. Valdir enjoyed doing that to people.

"Commissar, thank you for your coming to meet me at such short notice," The Minister said, standing; O'Malley and Alscarna followed suit. "I understand that you still have a few days here in Macisikan before you are called back to Dyelli Beybi, and I hope you enjoy them," she extended her hand across the table.

"Thank you for your time." Wallace replied politely, as she shook Valdir's hand. Meetings with the Macisikanis seemed to be inevitably brief and the dialogue tended to go one way.

Tonight she'd need to get in contact with the Deputy Chief Constable and discuss what exactly she was going to do. She had a funny feeling the Cheka would be pushing for some other form of Diplomatic settlement. Dyelli Beybi was a State afraid, a State teetering on the edge of destruction, it needed all the friends it could get.

Leaving the Minister's prescence, she let O'Malley take the lead, as usual. At least for now, her job was effectively over, and she was at something of a lose end as to what to do.

OOC: Is the Reichswehr invited??? :D

OOC: Sorry, the Reichswehr wasn't invited; this was a two-way conference between DB and myself, with DB sending the first warm body and me throwing ministers at that body. You can ICly request a meeting by TG or in the main Neo Tyr thread.

IC:
O'Malley led Wallace out of the office, leaving Alscarna and Valdir at the start of a heated argument; something about seating arrangements.

The Macisikani guide was silent while they traversed the labyrithine Parliamentary building, only speaking to point out various interesting features, such as an especially rare painting, like what a tourist guide would do.

When the two of them, plus a security guard, stood on the stairs outside the main entrance, O'Malley turned to Wallace.
"So, what do you want to do now? If you want to contact your superiors, we can go straight to the Diplomatic Precinct, where accomodation and communications have been arranged."
The time was about 3:00 pm.

Wallace gave O'Malley a sideways look, "A nonsecure line?"

She suddenly grinned broadly, "Now I'm sure you'd never even think of listening in on me, but I'm CSD-1, not an actual diplomat, I've got other arrangements for contacting my superiors, and I'm sure they'd rather I used the correct channels."

Cheka Sub-department 1. The branch of the Cheka which dealt with 'diplomacy and foreign dignitaries of extreme political sensitivity'.

"It's not essential right now, you couldn't possibly show me where the hotel is could you?"

OOC Oh, that was a joke. Since the Reichswehr were responsible for delivering the final blow to Neo-Tyr, and all...

OOC: NG- Sorry, I thought it was someone's title or something... need more sleep.
DB: Sorry I've taken my sweet time getting back to this thread...

IC:
For a brief moment O'Malley's normal cheerful expression was replaced by one combining shock with surprise, then his face went carefully blank.
"Ma'am, with respect, whether you like it or not, right now, in the eyes of His Imperial Majesty's Government, you are the voice of Klatch as a whole and Dyelli Beybi in particular in this city," he said, his voice rather stiff. "We accord to you all the respect and privileges we would give to any diplomatic envoy, including secured, unmonitored, communications. It is a matter of Imperial Honour."
The last sentence hung in the air a brief moment; the security guards had straightened at those words, achieving a posture normally only achieved by rigor mortis.
"However, if you feel that other means of contact are more suitable," he continued, his voice stiff and formal, "then all that we ask is that you don't annoy the Secretariat of International Telecommunications. They don't have a sense of humour and tend to sit heavily on people contravening commnet protocols."
There was another brief pause while O'Malley signalled to the waiting driver, who started the limo's engine.
"Of course I would be able to show you to your accommodation in the Diplomat's Roost. Please, this way," and he led her down the steps to the waiting limo and police escort.

The entire trip to the hotel O'Malley stared stiffly out the window, responding in monosyllables to any attempt at conversation.
When they arrived he handed Wallace over to the concierge, who handed her her room keys and a small booklet entitled "A Diplomat-Tourist's Guide to Arn-Maciska".
"Your luggage is waiting in your room madam," he said with a smile.

O'Malley, his face still rather stiff, politely informed her that he'd be waiting in the lobby when she got back.

Wallace had anticipated a bad reaction to wanting to use her own communication channels, the Macisikanis seemed obsessed with their honour, "Please try to understand, Mr O'Malley, this is not an insult towards either you or your country, we just don't know you that well."

"Klatch is a far from united country. As a democratic, left leaninig State, in a Nation where most States are run by dictators or monarchs, we are more than occasionally interpreted as a threat. The only reason Dyelli Beybi still exists is because we always pay attention to security."

"There are all kinds of people who'd like to be listening in on my calls. Do you realise I was warned before coming here there was an 8 percent chance someone would try to have me assassinated? Whatever your Government's view, elements within Klatch are going to view me as an unwelcome, meddlesome spy."

She smiled apologetically, before leaving O'Malley at the lobby, "Please try to understand, I'm only acting on orders from above, I really don't want to get off side with you over a silly little thing like this. If it makes you feel better though, please do feel free to take it out on me though."

She sounded serious...

After finding her room, Wallace dug through her luggage, unearthing a cellphone. She opened the back removing the Sim card. It was a normal commercial one, and would have a lot of difficulty connecting to the Cheka grid. The one implanted in the middle of a fake Kronor she had in her pocket was a lot more sophisticated though, fitted with the latest in Dyellian signal scrambling technology and with the right code to gain access to the Cheka grid. A can of hair spray from her in-cabin luggage was also hiding a tool to sweep for bugs in a fake bottom...

...she emerged from her room about 10 minutes later, looking a little bit sheepish as she sought out O'Mallyey, "Are you feeling better?" she asked tentatively when she found him.

OOC: Sorry about leaving this one for a while DB...
IC:
Wallace would have found three bugs; two listening devices and one pinhole camera. The Empire had realised that foreigners always expected to find a bug or two in their room, and were very suspicious if they didn't. So the Imperials obligingly put a few in each one. Actual monitoring of signals was done via a fine network of passive receivers built into the building itself; they picked up everything. Actually working out what they'd picked up, let alone translating it into something intelligible, was a completely different story.
Nevertheless, when Wallace disappeared, O'Malley pulled out his phone and dialled a special number...

Secretariat of International Telecommunications Activity Log
<anomalous signal detected... identifying... done>
<possible diplomatic nature>
<notifying operator... done; respondent operator #889, terminal 863>
[ssit-rmt863:~] op889% sitrep
<situation report; anomalous signal detected. Indications of encryption, possible diplomatic useage>
[ssit-rmt863:~] op889% traceroute signal 889725
<traced; origin; Diplomat's Roost [LOC#2668], [3.21]>
[ssit-rmt863:~] op889% own -id -2668/3.21
<origin ID: LOC#2668/3.21 allocated to Dyellian Envoy>
[ssit-rmt863:~] op889% rm sigrec -889725
<remove records of signal 889725 (origin 2668/3.21)? [y/n]?>
[ssit-rmt863:~] op889% y
Password: ***************
<accepted... removing records of signal 889725 (origin 2668/3.21)... done>
[ssit-rmt863:~] op889% exit
logout
<Process completed>


====================

O'Malley smiled briefly, "There was nothing to be offended about ma'am," he replied in a mollified tone, but he still looked rather put out.
"As the Minister said, your remaining time here in Arn-Maciska is yours to dispose of as you will, unless you've been given new instructions... I am at your disposal."

The bugs weren't destroyed, that wasn't the Dyellian way of doing things. If an agent was being bugged and the agent destroyed the bugs they'd just install new ones. It merely confirmed that the agent was being spied on. Instead they were left exactly as they were, and the agent switched to mission specific code.

"HQ, this is Alpha Hotel William Mike One One Zulu Hotel."

"Reding you loud and clear. State your message."

"The Rabbit is in the burrow, and the Stoat can't reach it."

"That's a bloody understatement. We do watch the news you know... The Stoat has long since left Macisikan, instead you are to pursue a Red and Blue Herring."

"A striped herring?"

"I hope you bloody read your code book before going into the field..."

"Sure I did, it was a joke... Ah! Never mind... message understood. Any kilo activity I should worry about?"

"Not as yet, no. Any further messages?"

"None. Over and Out."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, as it happens I do have further stuff I've been asked to do, so I'll need to ask to speak to the Ministry for External Affairs... again. But I think I'll leave that until tomorrow, what do you people do in an evening?"

A hidden camera, if the Commisaar had been an even vaguely shy sort of person she'd probably have found it a little disturbing. As it was, she thought she found it absolutely hillarious. Wallace was a strange sort...

They day after Wallace left, the cleaners came in, and found the bugs. "Honey, come over 'ere," the older one said.
"What is it?" the younger asked, interested. She was new to this job.
"SecImpSec bugs! Lass 'oo stayed 'ere didn't pick 'em up."
"Shouldn't we leave them alone? I mean, the Sec..."
"Nah, watch this..." the older one winked, and ran an expert thumbnail around the edge. With a soft 'pop', it opened, revealing a small round silver ball, surrounded by fake electronics.
"Dame Miranda. She's got 'erself a weird sense o' 'umour that one! Go on, open it." she held out the bug to the younger maid, who took out the ball and peeled the silver away.
"A mint?"
The older one was grinning like a full moon.
Written on the foil was "Compliments of the Secretariat of Imperial Security."
"Like I said, weird, but 'armless. She wouldn't 'ert a fly. 'less you threat'n the 'mpire o' course."
The other two bugs also had mints in them; what the older maid had said was right, Dame Miranda, head of SecImpSec, had a weird sense of humour, but she was also an Imperial MP; it was a prerequisite.

=====================================

O'Malley nodded. "We'll see if an appointment can be arranged. I think they assumed that it was all over and so cleared you off their diaries..."
He listened to the next bit, then grinned; not a smile, a grin, one conspirator to another.
"What do we do in the evening? Why, sergeant, Arn-Maciska is home of tens of millions of people. The real question is; What would you like to do?"

"I figured it might be something like that." Wallace shrugged, "I think the Government is fairly loathe to let me go without bashing out at least some minor treaty, I don't think I'd be saying too much if I say they're looking at getting some kind of non-agression pact going."

She gave a wry smile, "They want to get at least some gains from their investment in other words."

"As for what to do... I'll leave it over to you." her smile broke into an impish grin, "I know next to nothing about this place, take me where you'd take some slack jawed tourist you wanted to impress."