NationStates Jolt Archive

Georgetown, United Kingdom

"It remains an intractable problem only because heretofore neither side has been willing to compromise. We now have a willingness on both sides and thus an opportunity. Carpe diem, ladies and gentlemen. If we fail to act decisively in this moment than it may well be years before we see another such chance." Rodney Ingrahm finished off his statement by looking quickly down at a collection of collated documents. He picked them up and handed them to a civil servant who quickly passed them out amongst the Cabinet.

"What is being handed to you," another man continued without missing a beat, "is the rough result of bilateral negotiations conducted through envoys and other surreptitious means. However, the time is quickly coming for this government to make a bold and public stand on the aim of a negotiated peace. Whispers in the shadows can only lead so far, ladies and gentlemen. What the Prime Minister and I are asking from you today is consensus that this proposed negotiated treaty is the route that the Government will take. All efforts will be redoubled in this direction until a satisfactory result is achieved."

From the middle of the table, a distinguished-looking man offered a polite cough. "If you would excuse me, Gavin, I think it should be noted that this treaty, as it is in our hands, does not have the support of either myself or I believe Radovan, or am I mistaken?" The Secretary of State for Defence looked across the table at the First Lord of the Admiralty, who simply nodded to confirm the Defence Secretary's statement. "In a time of increased global instability we ought not to be reducing our force presence in the region but rather increasing it. For weeks if not months now, there has been tangible evidence of cross-border, low-level support for insurgency operations that are killing Oceanians. Four soldiers died this week as their vehicle was hit by a remote-detonated bomb. To be pulling out our forces only invites chaos and violence. Unless we are absolutely guaranteed that forces across the border will similarly be reduced I cannot in good conscience ascribe my signature to this."

"And the same goes for me," the First Lord added quickly after. "A withdrawal of forces will be seen as a retreat by the officers and ratings in the Royal Navy and will consequently erode morale to a new nadir. We need more ships, not necessarily dreadnoughts, but certainly smaller patrol craft to secure our maritime border and if need be assist our new-found neighbours in controlling theirs."

At that the wood-paneled room fell into a general, but low-key raucous debate. Ingrahm looked over at his Foreign Secretary and exchanged a knowing glance. "Sirs," the Foreign Secretary added, pausing until the din quieted itself. "I can say on good authority that our quote so-called neighbours have the same misgivings about the United Kingdom. As we doubt their sincerity and integrity, they doubt ours." He waved his hand at the mumbles of interruption from the more prideful Oceanians in the Cabinet. "This is unquestionably a difficult treaty for the United Kingdom to enter into; however, without it I see no larger threat to the national security of the Realm. While not to denigrate those who have and those who are now serving with valour and honour, roadside bombs are but a nuissance. However, a disputed territory sows international mistrust and misgivings. It reaps alliances and coalitions to right wrongs sown so many years before. The fruit of such a planting is blood red, ladies and gentlemen. This opportunity must be seized and it must be seized now. As such, with the knowledge of the Prime Minister, I have invited their government to send a delegation here to Georgetown. We can, at the very least, I believe, talk with them."

New Delhi, India, Khailfiah al Muslimeen(Seat of new Imperial Capital)

The Sultan and the Grand Vizier on limo which was taking them to New Delhi international airport, they were heading off for a very important peace summit.

“ I don’t need to remind you to more then half of cabinet express their reservations on this matter..do I old friend?” remarked the Grand Vizier

The Sultan smiled and said “Change is very hard thing to accept old friend..this is our chance for peace…lets us not throwing away because of our misgivings..we must move forward and put this behind us once and all..”

The Grand Vizier shake his head and remarked “We only move from Istanbul to New Delhi a few months ago..and look now..we are about to another 360 change..yes change is going to be hard to say the least.. Primarily for the arm forces and hardliners..but look at it this way.. You said it yourself in six months time..we would have either be fighting them or making peace with them..we can be thankful it was the latter happen.”

The Sultan nodded and said“ Yes…we can be thankful for that..at least…There is going to be a lot of unhappy people on both sides once we ironed out the treaty…but that’s the price we must pay for a lasting peace no?”

“A lot of unhappy people is a understatement..Quiet a few people will be very unhappy once the terms are made public…oh well that’s how it goes..and goody..we made it to the airport..and our plane is awaits us.” Remarked the Grand Vizier

With that the limo rolled up to the Sultan Airbus A380, the Imperial Black guardsmen stood ready to send them off. The Sultan and the Grand Vizier got out of the limo and nodded to the guards they made their way to the plane, they were wearing the following,the Sultan was dressed in a black suit with a black Fez, with a black glove which was hiding his prosthetics right hand and he walked with a wooden cane and as for the Grand Vizier just wore his black suit and a fez red, nothing to fancy was the rule of thumb for the both of them. They march up the stairs of the jet and were soon departing and taking off heading to the Peace summit. As the Jet move though KLM air space, six Su-37 escorts joined them in order to insure nothing was to happen to the Sultan and Grand Vizier during their flight to the peace summit.

Amidst the dense urbanisation of Georgetown, a large space of greenery existed, covered mostly with trees and other foliage but still crisscrossed with concrete and asphalt--unmistakable to satellites as airfield runways. Ordinarily, one would expect the usual accoutrements of hangar facilities and personnel services buildings, but to satellites and even adventurous Oceanians daring enough to try to violate the no-fly zone over much of Georgetown, the only buildings seen were a few small concrete shelters and the control tower.

Much of the infrastructure lay underground in hardened and reinforced bunkers, including the hangar for a squadron of RAF interceptors. The control room also lay underground, connected to various compartments and rooms through a complex network of tunnels; all of it designed to provide a final evacuation site for the royal family. Indeed, what had become known officially as the Royal Airport at Emperor's Field was a regular RAF station, Station Commander Charles Cooke paced about the control room as if to punctuate that fact. Yet, it served most usefully as of late as its original purpose, a private airfield for the royal family. As part of the Crown Estate, civilians--and more importantly the press--could be easily barred access. With various guarded entrances both above and underground, high-profile persons could come and go from the United Kingdom with little more than a slightly longer flight and a passage to waiting automobiles down well-lit but still underground passages.

Cooke, however, had seen the novelty and had felt it wear away after but a few weeks. Royal Navy patrol ships in the Pacific had intermittently been tracking the Sultan's flight since leaving Muslimeen airspace; their captains secretly charged with ensuring the safety of the Airbus as it transited the Pacific. For most of the trip, however, the aircraft had been out of range of the RAF's own over-the-horizon radar systems. Any minute it was expected to enter the range of RAF Kingston far to the west in Arista. But Arista was still the Home Islands, and was only a few hours flight time from Georgetown.

"Station Commander," a young officer called out into the low-lit room, "Kingston reports contact with an Airbus A380. Also reporting contact with a flight of six Sukhoi Three-Seven fighters. Transponders indicate it is the Sultan's flight."

"Very well," Cooke replied. A moment later, the air map for the Home Islands identified a small flight of aircraft at the far limits of the OTH system at RAF Kingston. Another moment later, several more blips appeared, this time registering as RAF interceptors launched from RAF Kingston that would help escort the aircraft to Emperor's Field. Cooke saw that for the time being, all was in order and proceeded to exit the control room and find his way to the officer's wardroom where he found the Foreign Secretary conversing with the Royal Army colonel in charge of the landing ceremony.

"Mr. Astley," Cooke began, "pardon the interruption, however, we have made contact with the Sultan's flight and its current estimated time of arrival is in about three hours or so."

Gavin Astley nodded, "thank you, Commander. Colonel, shall we ready one last review before the arrival?"

Three hours later, Astley and Cooke stood upon the tarmac outdoors, beneath a partly sunny sky stirred by a cool breeze coming off the mountains to the west. The glimpses of sunlight reflected in sharp glints off the polished bayonets affixed to the weapons of the honour guard standing at attention. Before them lay a red carpet while black armoured limousines sat idling nearby, their drivers and bodyguards standing, seemingly almost at ease.

Finally, in the distance, a silvery speck appeared in the sky to the south-southeast, from the main air corridor from Thamesport, Chatham and Camden. Above the speck, slowly growing larger, several more appeared--these all present knew to be the combat aircraft that would land after the formal arrival ceremony had concluded. Save the massive airliner, all the aircraft would quickly be ushered into the underground hangars and the Muslimeen crews treated to all the amenities accorded to RAF pilots, though close eyes would remain.

The Airbus lumbered in for a thunderous landing, its size dwarfing the men and women on the ground, lined up at attention for when the aircraft rolled to a complete stop, the mobile ladder quickly meeting the hatch that opened for the Sultan and Grand Vizier.

Astley watched, his face and hands still despite the professional nervousness wracking his body, more so his mind. These were to be the final talks that would hopefully end a de facto war being raged in New Albion between the two powers. He would not relax until the Sultan and King George's signatures were at the bottom of the treaty and peace officially proclaimed. And so he watched quietly as the Sultan and the Grand Vizier descended the stairs, their entourage trailing behind, while the honour guard stood as still as statues while a brass band aired the national anthem of the Khailfah.

As the Sultan approached, Astley and the station commander stiffened their backs and their resolve just one iota more. "Sultan Suleiman al Bashir II, on the behalf of His Majesty King George, I welcome you and your representatives to the United Kingdom of Oceania."

The Sultan smiled and said the following in British English, the form of English that he was educated in. “Thank you for welcome, I hope this is the start of a new beginning for our two nations.”

Then Sultan Bashir introduces the Foreign Secretary to Grand Vizier Mehmed Pasa Sokollu and the other members of his delegation. Which was composing of two staff aids (one was normal office aid and other was liaison from AMI) and a aid from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The reasons why AMI send a aid was to give them eyes and hears during the summit and pass on classified information to the Sultan during the summit. And of course there were the Sultan Imperial Black guardsmen (six total) who were dress in suits and stood ready to defend the Sultan and Grand Vizier at all cost.

Astley smiled and waved with his hand towards the waiting automobiles. "If you will follow me, Sultan." With a quickened pace, the Foreign Secretary led the Sultan and Grand Vizier to the limousine that would usher them to the Citadel, the driver courteously opening the door for the party. In the other vehicles the aides and attendants would follow. When the doors shut, the limousines shifted from park and began to drive down into a subterranean tunnel system.

Those in the passenger compartment watched as the windows became entirely opaque--a security precaution meant to ensure that only the driver and guard sitting next to the driver knew the exact route taken by the limousine. The shielded tunnel system serving also to jam and block transmissions both to and from the vehicles until they re-emerged in the crowded but orderly streets in the centre of Georgetown. Then, with as little noise as they had darkened, the windows lightened to their normal one-way opacity, allowing the Sultan and his entourage a view of the Victorian-era architecture of the capital of the United Kingdom.

Nearly ten minutes later, the limousines swung before a large brick wall with old-fashioned gates with guard towers flanking each side. Without losing speed, the gates pulled up and the limousines in, driving past two infantry-fighting vehicles and riflemen stationed as a visible deterrent ever since the failed royal coup by King George's predecessor.

Upon entering the Citadel, however, though near complete, the ride became noticeably bumpier given the archaic cobblestone paving. Fortunately, Astley knew the ride to be so short and had mentally prepared his stomach and quietly reassured the Sultan that they were arriving. And indeed, as if on cue, the limousines pulled to a stop, the one with the Sultan stopping next to a red-brick path inlaid amongst the cobblestones. At the end of the path lined on each side with more formally dressed and armed soldiers, stood a grey-haired man with the slight trace of a smile upon his face.

As the doors opened, the man approached the exiting Sultan. "Sultan," he began, "I am Prime Minister Rodney Ingrahm, welcome to my home. Inside you shall find a fine selection of teas and fresh-baked scones. After a long flight, I imagine that despite the pressing nature of our business a light fare would be acceptable?"

The Sultan smiled and said” Tea sounds lovely after such a long flight…I must say you have quiet a charming city from what I have seen so far.”

Most of the Sultan delegation nodded in agreement, the old Victorian-era architecture was something different from the cities of the Khaifilah. But they were all fairly tired from the long flight and welcome the chance to refresh themselves with some tea and scones. It one of the many things that two nations shared in culture, both had a high regard for tea and teatime in general.

Ingrahm led the Sultan in through the main entrance, the marble tiled floor freshly polished and reflecting with brilliance the natural light streaming in from the large windows. In the foyer, portraits of the previous occupants of the office of the Prime Minister hung, subtly lighted from recessed parts of the ceiling. The delegation walked through and to the left, entering a room paneled with dark wood and lined with built-in book shelves multi-coloured with leather and plastic spines.

"Please, Your Majesty, this way," Ingrahm waved his arm and allowed the delegation to take their seats of choice from amongst the various leather chairs and sofas opposite his own desk. As they all sat, the Prime Minister moved his own chair around to bring himself closer to the Muslimeen delegation and remove the barrier of his desk.

Ingrahm nodded to an unseen aide, and promptly thereafter two attendants brought upon platters a pot of tea as well as fresh scones, baked with wild berries from the Home Islands. "Feel free to help yourselves, please." After the delegation took their share, Ingrahm poured himself a cup and took a scone.

"I understand that while you have held talks with your relation and the former Colonial Secretary, this is the first meeting between the leaders of our two nations." Ingrahm tilted his head slightly, as if to appreciate the magnitude of the moment himself, "we do indeed seem to have come an enormous distance since the... difficult times of late. And it must be said that much of this pragmatism is the direct result of your direct leadership, Sultan. And, I hope," Ingrahm added, lifting his tea cup in the direction of Sultan Bashir, "the pragmatic leadership of our two nations shall continue over the coming days."

The Sultan nodded in agreement and lifted his cup of tea in direction of the Prime Minister. He said the following” I concur… We have come a long way from those.. difficult times…in reality its thanks to both sides pragmatism that we are now sitting here today drinking tea and not engaging in all out war..this is very promising sign for two peoples..its one forward to the road of peace and mutual understanding for our peoples wouldn’t you agree?”

Ingrahm smiled. "You are indeed correct, Sultan. Much of our conflict stems from misunderstanding, most presumably of intentions. Here in the UK it is well known that many of your subjects fear we, Neo-Brits," Ingrahm paused, quickly reassuring himself that he had said the slang properly, "are imperially-driven and destined to take all of your holdings."

"Of course, it would be improper to mention that many Oceanians fear not just Muslimeens, although that title is so difficult owing to your multi-national state, but Islam--a foreign religion largely unfamiliar to a Western-based society, although we admittedly are far closer to the East. Regardless, we are indeed a secular state and that too, from what I understand, generates friction within much of your hardliner/religious base."

Pausing, Ingrahm took his scone and gently tore it in two, and then spread some butter upon the pastry, watching it quickly melt after touching the warm baked good. He took a quick bite, and savoured the flavour before continuing. "Regardless of our own ambitions for this treaty, fear and misunderstanding will persist at least for one whole generation, if not more. And so I think it prudent that we remove the matches from the fire, if you will. By reducing the footprint of each of our nations' armed forces in New Albion, there will be fewer opportunities for renegade officers to act unilaterally or even escalate a tension beyond a point of no return."

"Consequently, I would propose that we add to this treaty a section that effectively limits the number and type of weapon systems and even personnel that can be deployed in and around New Albion during peacetime." Ingrahm placed his scone on a plate and wiped the crumbs from his hands with a napkin. He retrieved from his desk a piece of paper that contained a small map of the disputed island and some military statistics at the bottom.

"There is no reason, as far as either myself or the Admiralty can ascertain, as to why either of us need to keep super-dreadnoughts or even dreadnoughts so near the island. You have bases in Madras and Bombay where your capital ships can be based while we have bases not far in our Andaman and Nicobar Island bases as well as the Verdant Archipelago. Clearly, to sanitise the whole of the eastern Indian Ocean is an impossibility not just for political reasons and so we shall both need to keep large armed forces not more than a few days journey from New Albion. But those few days journey could provide not just ourselves but our successors with a few days to allow egos and prides to cool and allow reason and understanding to take root."

The Sultan careful listen to what the Prime Minister had to say, he took a few sips of his tea and took a bite out of his pasty, which has a unique taste to it with the wild berries and all. Then he begun to speak

“Well…. the hardliners of my state…are always opposing me one way or another on many issues related to policy..but that’s besides the matter..yet I do concur with you on the idea of mutually reducing our garrisons on New Albion in peacetime and in the hopes of reducing the chance of rouge officers trying to start a incidents.. “ Then the Sultan took another sip of his tea and begun speaking again

“As for the basing of our ships...I believe we can agree to that idea…having them a few days away from New Albion, those few days as you said can allow time enough for cooler heads to prevail..it might be a tough sell for me when I return home..but this must done for the stake of peace.”

Peace, Ingrahm thought, sipping his tea. Peace would finally bring stability to the northern regions of New Albion and with peace could come investment and economic development. In time, perhaps the colony could become an economic powerhouse within the Empire; the resources, with regards to both raw materials and labour, were present as was the desire of the local population--all that remained was security.

"As you are aware, Sultan, over the past several months our respective envoys and diplomats have hammered out the basis of this treaty. Demographics have been and likely will be a problem for New Albion for years to come; and so I think it also important that we discuss this issue while you are here in the UK."

The Prime Minister took another bite of his scone, using the moment to form what followed. "The sudden and unilateral declaration of secession by the Dawesport government cleaved the island in two, breaking apart not just an island of political entities, but an island of communities and families. Since that day, the Colonial Office, in conjunction with the Ministry of Defence, have recorded hundreds of thousands of persons fleeing south towards Al Malabaristan. Likewise, we have seen a nearly counter-balancing flow northwards by those wishing to express loyalty to the Crown in Georgetown and not New Delhi. I would like to set forth a specific time table for all such persons feeling misplaced loyalties to emigrate to their sought home."

"At the same time, there remain a few small enclaves and exclaves that need to be addressed. If you will permit me," Ingrahm paused and took another sip of his tea, finishing it off, before retrieving a large map of the island his desk, subsequently laying it out before the Sultan. "These here, are the Rivers Davey and the River Swan, largely bisecting the island in half. This grey dot here is the enormously pro-Georgetown borough of Roberton-on-Sea, approximately 128 thousand denizens. As you can see it lay south of the River Montclair; however, with no real 'twin' city across the river, the cost of relocating the denizens and in essence building a city from scratch would be prohibitively expensive."

"The Colonial Office would like to propose the following, while UK ground force currently occupy the hills to the south of the town, full control southwards towards the River Swan is contested. This area constitutes Harrowshire County, and we would like to request that New Delhi cede this territory to Georgetown."

Ingrahm watched the faces of the Sultan and his entourage closely, but there was a reason he mentioned that part first. "In exchange, however, His Majesty's Government would be willing to cede three counties in the west to New Delhi: West Plains, Treahill, and Yartham. These three lay north of the River Davey, where UK forces have largely established a line of control. These exchanges will allow each side to establish borders along the riverbanks, and closely monitor the crossing which will usually occur only over bridges."

"All this, please keep in mind, Sultan, would occur in conjunction with the encouraged emigration of those wishing to live under a different crown. In effect, the mixed population of Harrowshire will slowly shift towards a pro-Georgetown majority and the opposite will occur in West Plains, Treahill and Yartham."

The Sultan took a few sips of tea and he study the map for moment, and so did the Grand Vizier. The Sultan thought for moment and said “ After giving this much thought…I believe this is in the best interest of our two nations for this land exchange to occur, which allow a lasting peace for this island that we both share….The Imperial Government on my authority as Sultan, I here by agrees to cede Harrowshire County in return for those three counties that your mention.” Then Sultan took another sip of his tea

This was major shock for the Sultan delegation, he actually agreed to their request…the madness of it all. Yet the aids hide their shock and silently drank their tea and the Grand Vizier expected this to happen and continue to study the map in detail.

“Well I certainly believe this will upset a few people in the short term..but in the long term I believe this fixed many long standing issues for our nations.” Said the Sultan

bump

Smiling, Ingrahm rose from his chair, replacing his teacup upon its saucer with the softest of clinks. Turning over his wrist and pulling up his sleeve, the Prime Minister noted the arms splayed out upon the black dial of his watch. "Sultan," he said, turning up to find Bashir, "I must confess that I did not expect such progress in a single session. While there remains plenty of daylight left; you, the Grand Vizier, and your staff have traveled a very long distance and it would be a disservice if we did not breakup for the day. Unfortunately, there remain some other issues requiring my attention."

The Prime Minister held the door himself for the Sultan, watching the staff leave down the hall. None would have missed, walking down that short carpeted hall, the presence of uniformed service personnel, none of whom had been present on the way into the drawing room. Along the wall, with caps in hand, the Oceanians expected an AMI operative to be among the staff and who would in all likelihood recognise the senior-most officers of the Royal Navy, Air Force, and Army along with a cadre of junior staff officers.

As the Sultan passed underneath the lintel, Ingrahm quietly extended a hand and laid it upon the shoulder of Bashir—breaking any number of etiquette rules. "Pay heed to the men and women you pass on your way out, Sultan." Ingrahm advised, trying his hardest to sound non-threatening. "There is another matter I would like to discuss with you; however, if it is agreeable to you I should rather do it without the presence of AMI agents or aides. Later this evening, around 20:00, I have a half-hour break for tea and I would like you to join me outside on the grounds, if that is acceptable."

Recognising that a nearly inordinate amount of time had been spent stalled in the doorway, the Prime Minister let the Sultan pass and Ingrahm's secretary ushered in the Chiefs of Staff Committee, all quickly seated by the Prime Minister. "Gentlemen," Ingrahm began once the door was soundly shut. "I believe some progress was made this afternoon, and I would like to hear about the possibilities of augmenting our forces with those stationed in and around New Albion."

The Sultan nodded and didn’t say anything, after the Prime Minister had spoken to him. He pass the time by talking to his aids and Grand Vizier, yet they made small talk the Sultan rather not discuss treaty related matters for now. He did pass the remark that he will be meeting the Prime Minister later alone…but didn’t go any more further on the matter.

5 km South of the Border, Recedentia
Oceanian East Recedentia, United Kingdom

"Commence fire," crackled through a thick plastic box, situated upon a piece of scrap metal laid across two recently hewn tree stumps. The radio and the command table sat underneath a camouflage tent where captains and lieutenants stood, chatting about the latest scores in the inter-battery football matches. When the order came, however, the officers reverted to their months of training and rushed to their posts. Fifteen seconds later, the whole of the Royal Artillery regiment began to unleash hell.

Several kilometres away, upon the other side of the mountain, a lieutenant in the Royal Army heard a long whistle scream overhead. The corners of his lips turned upwards and a moment later the slopes on the opposite side of the river valley exploded in flame as sub-munitions ravaged the rocky outcroppings that formed the heart of the defences of the natives. He watched his 2IC point towards the south, and the lieutenant picked up his field binoculars, scanning the valley to the south and then caught a glint of reflected sunlight a few dozen metres off the flooded fields--as his regiment had destroyed the dam upriver two nights prior.

Though small, the Viper aircraft roared up the valley with bunker-busting bombs strapped underneath their fuselage appearing enormous in relation to the fighters. Stationed a few hundred kilometres down river, the RAF had begun to train natives deemed loyal to the Crown in basic flight operations and had begun to entrust to them operation of simpler fighters, such as the Viper. Small, rugged, and simple to maintain, the Viper was a key component of colonial air defences. While Oceanians manned the pricey air superiority fighters and attack aircraft, new recruits from the colony manned the Vipers that frequently saw action along the unstable frontiers of the Realm.

Along the northern border of Oceanian East Recedentia was one such 'unsettled' frontier. The lieutenant watched the acrobatics as the fighters neared their targets, lased by special forces units operating among the insurgents' lines, and pulled up switching on their afterburners for a quick, hard climb. The bombs fell free of the Vipers and homed in on their targets while the fighters screamed away towards the missile coverage of the lieutenant's lines. Despite his hopes, however, the explosions were not extraordinarily massive, just a few confined jets of fire and flame as the bulk of the explosion occurred deep underground in the caves and caverns of the mountains where the natives planned their insurgency.

With no threat of counter-battery fire from the natives, a second wave of artillery fire rained down upon the insurgent positions, this time dropping fuel-air-explosives to engulf the mountainside in flame. In half an hour's time, the lieutenant's soldiers would mount their IFVs and begin to roll down into the valley and roll across raised roads and bridges towards the mountains where he hoped they would find hundreds of charred bodies.

Colonial Office
Georgetown, United Kingdom

"The governor assures me, Your Lordship, that the counter-insurgency operations are proceeding apace and largely in-line with the Royal Army's estimations."

Viscount Cahill nodded non-committally at his principal private secretary. As Colonial Secretary, Cahill was of course concerned by military operations occurring upon his jurisdictions; however, he was more concerned about the following day's fiscal report from the Recedentian colonies. An unwise number of pounds were being spent on defence issues instead of the prescribed infrastructure improvements necessary to encourage domestic and foreign investment in the distant colony. While blessed with natural resources, the colonies--especially the northern colony--were beset by instability. While natives played a significant part in the harassment of convoys and such, the larger concern was the deployment of significant forces along the northern border where the United Kingdom shared a land border with the Khailfah.

The Prime Minister had briefed the Cabinet about the nature of his talks with Sultan Bashir; but, after the first day's talks, nothing had come from the Citadel to the Colonial Office--not even a courtesy telephone call. Cahill fretted that if no agreement was reached, the cost of garrisoning and supporting the troops along the northern border would continue to prevent the full development of one of the United Kingdom's most promising colonies.

The Arabian Sea

At seventy-five metres below the surface, the Royal Navy submarine Scorpion quietly made a gentle one-hundred-eighty degree turn, bringing herself back on the initial course she had spent patrolling for several hours. A long-range patrol submarine with a quiet nuclear propulsion system, the Scorpion was assigned to watch and record the movements of the Khailfah's numerous oil-tankers entering and exiting the gulfs of Aden and Oman.

Ever since the at-sea collision of two frigates some months back, the Admiralty had stepped up its patrols of the sea lanes leading out of the Khailfah's richest petroleum-producing regions. In all likelihood, New Delhi knew that the Scorpion was here. Perhaps they had not detected her or her sister submarines stationed elsewhere in the Arabian Sea, but the Khailfah's naval staff could not be unaware of the vacant slips in various Royal Navy submarine bases.

The captain of the Scorpion kept his crew sharp, running irregular drills involving sudden orders to sink the largest Muslimeen tankers. If the order came, he knew full well that he would not likely return home, the bulk of the Muslimeen navy stood between him and the nearest Oceanian naval base--and that was assuming the units nearest him did not find and sink him in swift retaliation. He paced his bridge and threw a quick glance at his watch, 14:17. Three minutes until the next drill.

Office of the Prime Minister
Georgetown, United Kingdom

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," Ingrahm said, closing the dossier with a thorough snap. He stood and walked his private staff to the door of his office. After quietly shutting the door he pulled up his sleeve and looked at his watch, 19:43. When the Conservative Party had won the general election, he had expected long days--but never so many and so soon into his premiership. Moving over to his desk, Ingrahm picked up the phone and dialed the number for the kitchen. While the chef finished at 18:30, one of his assistants would remain on the grounds until 22:00. After that, the Prime Minister could only fend for himself in the pantry. "A light blend, if you please," he spoke into the phone after getting the assistant.

He allowed himself to sit behind his desk, and opened one of the intelligence briefings brought to him earlier in the day by the Ministry of Defence. It contained maps of Haven and satellite images detailing activity at depots and train yards and ports and aerodromes. To elucidate the gravity of the situation, some junior officer circled the most interesting elements of the satellite and reconnaissance aircraft photos and provided lists of letters followed by numbers denoting some new tank, aircraft, missile, or ship. The next page was a table of the United Kingdom's own letters and numbers deployed and ready to deploy to combat the enemy's letters and numbers.

A quiet knock on the private door to his office distracted Ingrahm, who shut the folder and opened the door, taking the tray from the assistant chef. "Would you happen to have any good recipes for alphabet soup," he asked, attempting a smile, but failing. The chef responded with a scrunched face, eyebrows drawn tight and head tilted almost like an unsure dog. "Never mind, thank you, Kevin."

"Any time, Mr. Prime Minister," the chef responded hesitantly.

Ingrahm took his tea black, but took care to remember how the Sultan had taken his cup earlier in the day. When the leaves had finished their steeping, he withdrew the strainers from the cups and discarded the leaves, fixing the Sultan's tea as best as Ingrahm could remember. Usually protocol staffs would do the work, but at times such as these the less pomp and circumstance, the better for two men to discuss business.

He took the two cups with him as he exited his office, his secretary already gone for the day. Having spoken to his security detail earlier in the afternoon, he simply nodded to the men in black suits flanking his office door, they whispered something into their cuffs and the trio made for the front doors.

Upon exiting the building, Ingrahm walked slowly over to the small garden where he had planted some fruits and vegetables. While his thumb was far from green, he had planted them more as a gift to the chef who could use them when they eventually ripened. He took a seat and placed the Sultan's cup on the stone retaining wall, ensuring it did not fall over and spill into the topsoil. From his own cup, Ingrahm took a sip, enjoying the light flavour and the subtle aroma while the steam wafted upwards into the darkening Georgetown sky.

The Imperial Government was spending billions upon billions of Dinars into the massive Sonar networks in the Arabian and Indian Oceans all within their territorial waters of course. The Imperial High Seas Fleet had already built up a sizeable anti sub patrol air fleet to perform constant patrols of the important sea-lanes of the Imperium. As for the Sub fleet, they were always on deep-sea patrol of the Pacific, performing dills upon dills waiting the day when the orders come to nail major Oceanian shipping lanes. In till that does happen, they will continue their dills for a given period of time then return to homeport and start the cycle all over again.

Yet this massive naval build up was adding up overtime, many members of the Imperial Government rather use the money for investment in the Dominions or just cut taxes down by 2 fold or so. Overall the Imperium was tired of this state of relations since the Frigate incident and the costly build up, but needless to say they were ready for war if it came down to it.

The Sultan appears right on time; he nodded to the Prime Minister and pick up his cup of tea. He sip his tea and asked “ What is the matter you wish to discuss with me?”

Ingrahm pointed towards the brick walls surrounding the grounds, where soldiers patrolled and kept watch over the Prime Minister, his wife and his staff. "At one point," he mused, his eyes and thoughts drifting momentarily towards the colonial past, "we built this brick wall to keep out the foreigners who secretly oared up the New Thames to raid this then small town." He turned towards the Sultan, smiled, and had a sip himself. "And here I am inviting a foreigner into these hallowed grounds."

The Oceanian put his cup back upon the stone. "Oceanians are an odd mixture, Sultan. Xenophobic to one degree, as evidenced by this wall, but pragmatic and practical--and it is bad practice to turn away new customers and markets. The times have changed, Sultan," he added thoughtfully, turning to the gently bowing palms, whose fronds rustled quietly in the soft but steady breeze.

"And they continue to change," he added again, this time more presently minded, turning his eyes back to the Sultan. "Beyond these walls of brick and mortar, the United Kingdom is readying its walls of steel. Our ships are taking on stores and our soldiers and sharpening their swords. War is on the horizon, and Ares rides swift and sure, Sultan, make no mistake. It is but a matter of weeks they tell me," he motioned with his hands towards the marble facade of the Ministry of Defence, illuminated in all its architectural majesty by floodlights.

"And unfortunately for the two of us, the enemy is not mutual," Ingrahm continued, his voice turning low. "The Questarian Commonwealth, Sultan." He finally paused, let the breeze blow over him and take with it steam from his still warm cup, from which he drank another sip. "This war will be large and will require great resources; and amongst those resources will be petroleum. You have it, Sultan, and we both know who receives a great proportion of it." The Oceanian lowered his cup, his gaze, and the tone of his voice.

"Pragmatic and practical policy beg for an interruption if not neutralisation of said supply, Sultan. While we and our aides sit about in closed chambers talking a good talk about future peace and prosperity in New Albion and other areas of common interest, all mention of this war remains silent. I think it time we air this common interest between ourselves, away from the stuffy politics of both New Delhi and Georgetown."

The Sultan knew fully well about the current situation between the Commonwealth and NATO, it didn’t sit well with many members of the Imperial Government, given the fact that Imperium major trade partner was the Commonwealth, they supplied the Imperium with investment for the light industries and return the Imperium exports oil to them. In fact the commonwealth and the Preatonia were major imports of KLM Oil. Yet the standing of the Imperium on the situation was simple totally neutrality at all cost, the Imperium had too many matters to deal with as is.

The Sultan took a sip of his tea and remarked, “ You have no need to be concerned, not a word of this will be mention to anyone on my part..if the KLM were to cut this supply of oil to this said party we both know of..what will we get in return for our cooperation on this matter..that is all I ask.”

"Would you care to stretch your legs, Sultan," Ingrahm asked, taking the moment to stand slowly, breathing in the cooling night air that remained a smooth, velvet yellow-grey as lights shone on in a city that never truly slept. As the two stood, Ingrahm waved his arm in front of him, leading the Sultan through the cobbled-stone path, underneath the palms and deciduous trees that provided shade in the day and at night cast long, rough shadows over the ground stone.

"They say, Sultan, that the English and Scottish settlers who arrived here a few centuries ago brought with them not just hopes and aspirations, but invasive species like these beech trees and foxes. After all, what else do the youngest sons of aristocratic blood have to do but hunt foxes," Ingrahm added with a self-amused smile. "Regardless, my ancestors brought to these islands a new vitality forged from a new order of things constituted by a blending of old world and new world, of occidental and oriental."

The Prime Minister extended his free hand and let it run along the smooth and waxy leaves of a native deciduous plant. It retained its Polynesian-derived name, though it eclipsed him at the moment as more pressing matters weighed more heavily upon his mind than taxonomy.

"I appreciate your candour, Sultan," he added, his voice no longer reminiscent of the country's colonial past, "and your confidentiality." His brown eyes narrowed as he looked upwards towards a flickering light, seeking a distraction if just for the moment. "Make no mistake," he finally spoke, clear and convincingly, his eyes full of resolve. "I do not seek to jeopardise the work both our ministers and ourselves for which we have been working indefatigably over the past several months. My predecessor, before his foreign misadventures took paramountcy in his premiership, embarked upon a limited programme of encouraging investment in the Khailfah. This was, I believe, limited primarily to commercial industries."

"The United Kingdom could, under the proper circumstances," he made sure to politely emphasise, "see, at the very least, a trebling of its investment in the Khailfah. You flew here on an Airbus, Sultan, if I am not mistaken; there is no reason that Oceanian Aerospace, SYRAC, or Vickers could not be the manufacturer of your next travel aircraft, an aircraft wholly built and assembled in the Khailfah. After this conflict, I am certain that there will be an increased demand for war materiel--and again, I am certain that if proper conditions hold, Oceanian firms could construct the bulk of this, excepting of course the most sensitive components, in the Khailfah. All of this translates into jobs, foreign currency reserves, sustainable economic growth, and by extension stability and a further diversified economy."

Ingrahm took a long, slow drink of tea, savouring the blend from Sarnia. "Now, to return your candour, Sultan," he continued, his voice softer, more personal, "this simply cannot happen overnight. Additionally, neither I nor my government can order private companies to invest here or there. However, the negotiation of free trade agreements and economic sector cooperation directives could well be a sufficient impetus for post-war investment. In the here-and-now, Sultan, I can say only that neutrality ought to be held in the highest regard. Should the Khailfah cease the flow of petroleum to the Commonwealth and her allies, at least for the duration of this war, I will personally put forth before NATO the case to ensure the safety of al Muslimeen persons and property. At this moment, I can only vouch for the Royal Armed Services, who would be given orders to allow safe passage to Muslimeen ships, aircraft, and vehicles so long as appropriately marked and/or flagged."

"Of course, to ensure full neutrality and to mitigate the chance for Commonwealth reprisals, I do not think that becoming a major supplier to the United Kingdom or even NATO would be wise; any such arrangements would best be left to post-war talks. In areas of bilateral concern, Sultan, any such cooperation as to what is being proposed here tonight would relate most pressingly to security matters in New Albion and Recedentia. The pretense of neutrality would have to be kept for the duration, however, tacit cooperation between our nations on stopping insurgents and on boosting cross-border trade could be arranged. Additionally, there are the matters of the mineral resources of New Albion. I am quite certain that the vast precious metal reserves in the central mountain range under Crown control could be discreetly transferred to New Delhi."

"These are, however," the Prime Minister carefully added, "just my private, confidential thoughts between two individuals. Of course, I would be most interested in hearing your thoughts on the matter."

The Sultan thought for moment before say anything..then he begun to speak “ I am a man of my word …but I am man of my honor I can’t in good faith forsake my relations with the commonwealth and their ally Preatonia if they were to join the war, we been their trade partner and maintain good relations with them for sometime…but in the interest of neutrality..my Imperial Government will crease the shipments for the time being…we don’t want to be drag into this war…we already fighting war against a foe of an ally to honor our treaties with them..already my government is drawing up our policy in this coming war..” The Sultan pause for moment and said “ We will declare our total neutrality on this matter..its best interest for my Imperium.”

The Sultan then took a sip of his tea and look up at the sky for moment, he remarked “ Before my family became involve in politics..a few generations ago…we were textile merchants in Bilad al Sham..it still runs in my blood today…I am always looking for now chances to expand the Imperium trade network.. Personal I hate how relations between our nations degraded back then…and killed the chance of our two counties becoming major trade partners back then… but now I see a chance to mend that…my Imperium will look forward to strongly trade relationship..this is certainly a step in the right direction.” He said with a smiled

Ingrahm nodded. "The policies and actions of my predecessors, while surely driven and undertaken by and in the belief of securing Oceanian security, were, nonetheless, misguided and erroneous. Sultan, it is my firm belief that the interests of the United Kingdom can best be served by cooperation and negotiation. Indeed, this step is certainly in the best interest of both our states."

The Prime Minister lifted his cup to the Sultan. "His Majesty's Government will fully recognise and respect al Muslimeen neutrality throughout the conduct of this war under the terms agreed. In addition, once this coming war reaches its conclusion, I look forward to making a trip to New Delhi to cement our nascent friendship."

The Sultan nodded in agreement and lifted his cup to the Prime Minister, then Sultan said” It will be honour to have you come to New Delhi to cement this relationship…this is the beginning of a brighter future for our two peoples. Its all thanks to our willingness to talk to eachother.”