NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: This RP is currently CLOSED between Sarzonia and Halberdgardia. There's a possibility that this RP could develop a Non-Aligned Nations grouping for democracy-loving nations who don't want to cast their lots with either the Gholgoth/NATO bloc or the Sovereign League/Questarian Commonwealth group.]

"Do your fucking job."

Senior Vice President and External Affairs Officer Grant Haffner ran over that four word admonition from President Mike Sarzo. Even though he had only been confirmed fairly recently, his brusque manor was not winning him any fans among other Cabinet officials or members of Parliament. Frankly, he was wearing on the nerves of Sarzo himself.

Sarzo knew that he couldn't fire Haffner now. The only way he could be removed from office is if the Sarzonian people initiated a recall referendum. However, such a recall would have removed now-former Speaker Connie Jacobi from office in the midst of her power struggle with Sarzo.

Still, Haffner didn't feel secure. Do your fucking job. How can anyone feel comfortable when their boss speaks to them like that, Haffner thought.

He knew how to read between the lines with Sarzo. He needed to establish some kind of signature initiative that would strengthen the fragile confidence Sarzo placed in him. It would be the one piece of security Haffner could give himself in these times. For seemingly the thirtieth time this hour, he looked at the latest report about the growing tensions between NATO and the Questarian Commonwealth. He knew if he could find a way to prevent the war, he'd create a lasting legacy. However, he also knew that was a pipe dream.

However, he arrived at one thing that was realistic and probably would give him the sort of legacy he would be able to use to grow into his new role. He decided against trying to pitch the idea to Sarzo, figuring his boss would appreciate his taking initiative rather than simply running an idea past him.

He picked up the phone to call his counterpart in Halberdgardia with an idea.

Perhaps if we hold a Woodstock Conference and invite other like-minded neutrals to the conference, we can discuss ideas for making a statement that doesn't involve our getting embroiled in this massive war Haffner thought. But first, I think I'd like to get the ball rolling with at least one other nation to see if we can come to some ideas.

Haffner stared at the wall, hoping that his daydream about a Woodstock Conference would turn into the kind of reality that a soon-to-be wartorn world could accept.

The Office of the Secretary of State, the Department of State, Washington, D.C., 1223 Local Time

Kenneth Hawkins sat alone in his well-appointed office at the State Department building, just a couple of blocks from the White House. He was also feeling a little underutilized at the moment. As Secretary of State of the Democratic Imperium of Halberdgardia, he was a significant force in shaping the foreign policy of a nation that had over 4 billion citizens between its mainland and various colonies (though, of course, no one ever called them that any more). He was therefore an undoubtedly powerful man, but he wasn't exactly living up to the reputation of his "illustrious predecessor."

It's a bit difficult to do that when your predecessor is your boss, Hawkins thought to himself.

Kenix Kil was easily one of the most celebrated statesmen in the history of the nation, and had occupied Hawkins' office not so long ago. Of course, between Kil and Hawkins, there had been the short and ill-fated reign of Richard Coveney, whose defense of Halberdgardian imperialization policies in Torontia had sullied both his reputation and that of his country's on the world stage, but he was now often referred to as little more than a historical footnote. No, for all intents and purposes, Kil was considered Hawkins' predecessor.

And now Kil was President -- a President who shaped much of the nation's foreign policy himself, frequently bypassing Hawkins. It was hardly unexpected -- after eight years of serving as Secretary of State in the Kanos Administration, it was only logical that Kil would carry over his expertise and policies straight into the Oval Office. Still, Hawkins couldn't help but feel somewhat bitter; he had too much experience and knowledge to be a mere diplomatic figurehead.

The ring of a telephone snapped Hawkins out of his reverie. He dreaded having to take yet another call from another bureaucratic idiot somewhere in Washington, asking for a political favor or some other bullshit. He reached over slowly to pick up his office telephone, but then he realized it wasn't ringing. He sat up straighter when he saw it was the unmarked phone right next to it -- his direct line, the one reserved for foreign figures who needed to reach him quickly, similar to the one Kil had first established for fellow heads of state. It was something Hawkins himself had requested for his office. He picked up the phone. "Hawkins."

To say Haffner waited impatiently for Hawkins to pick up the phone would be to make a gigantic understatement. Haffner wasn't known for his patience any more than Courtney Love was known for having a melodic singing voice. His right hand slowly moved over toward his desk as he began to beat an absent-minded rhythm while he waited for the phone to be answered.

However, he didn't have to wait long.

"Hawkins."

The voice startled Haffner; he had been expecting Kil to answer. He thought for a second, then recalled the former Secretary of State's ascension to the Oval Office. Obviously, he thought, I'm not up on Washington's political scene. Remaining aware of Gray House matters was enough of a chore for Haffner.

"Hello Kenneth, this is Grant Haffner in Woodstock," Haffner began. His right hand was on the move again; this time, toward his note pad where he'd written down some thoughts on the idea of a Woodstock Conference for armed neutrals as the political scene began to unravel worldwide.

He knew that Halberdgardia was in a similar position to Sarzonia: Both were nations that saw old friends turn out to be turncoats. Both were nations that still espoused strong democratic ideals. Both were somewhat confused about which way to turn as allies and enemies became one and the same. Unlike some nations that might have cast their lots logic be damned, Sarzonia was going its own way.

This time, however, there was hope that someone out there would at least support Sarzonia in this New World Order. It was about time in Haffner's eyes.

After Hawkins's brief pleasantry, Haffner knew it was time to get fully in gear.

"Listen Kenneth, I have a proposal for you. I know your government feels the same way about the whole mess between NATO and the Questarian Commonwealth as we do. I also know it's put both our governments in an awkward situation.

"What I would like to propose is that you or a representative of your government meet us here in Woodstock to map out a proposal for other nations who are, like us, neither willing nor able to choose sides in this brouhaha between NATO and the Commonwealth. If our governments come to some kind of agreement about how to do things, we can call upon the governments of other nations and officially convene a conference in Woodstock.

"What do you think?"

Haffner waited for Hawkins's reply.

“Grant!” Hawkins brightened up, relieved to hear a friend’s voice on the other end. “Good to hear from you, my friend. But, please, how many times must I ask you to call me Ken?” There was a hint of mock admonition in his voice at this last remark; Hawkins knew Haffner could be a bit of a dour personality, and hoped it wouldn’t be lost on Haffner.

Hawkins listened to Haffner’s offer with a good deal of interest. In fact, he was a bit more than very interested; to the achievement-starved Hawkins, the offer was like a godsend. If I play this right, this could be the diplomatic coup of my career, he thought to himself. Of course, Kil will cannibalize my position at any possible follow-up conference, but he’ll be forced to admit that I got him there in the first place.

He forced himself to move away from his unusually-antagonistic mindset against his boss and step back to consider the big picture. Haffner had nailed Washington’s current uneasiness square on the head. Returning after a quasi-isolationist stretch only to find many of the Imperium’s allies gone or drastically changed, and a number of unfamiliar new aggressive and decidedly un-democratic powers on the rise, public support that previously existed for Washington’s mostly-judicious ventures into foreign situations was greatly diminished. While HCIA was currently carrying out a few low-level covert “interventions” in other areas of the globe, short of a direct threat to the Imperium’s allies or its own lands, the Halberdgardian public wasn’t keen on deploying any significant amount of its considerable military forces anywhere. Kil was going to have a hard enough time convincing Congress to deploy some of the advanced new Peregrine Mk. II hypersonic bombers to blunt a Kraven-led assault in Groznyj aimed at Southeast Asia, let alone to participate in any larger conflict elsewhere. And not even Kil, with all his charisma and diplomatic skills, would even begin to think of attempting to force Congress to pick sides in the NATO/QC conflict. But even as a neutral power, safe from the immediate ravages of what was very likely going to be a war of unprecedented destructiveness, Washington would be able to do little to influence events abroad on its own—especially in the NATO/QC conflict, in which a number of its allies and friendly powers were participating. But paired with other like-minded nations...if things went well, Washington and Woodstock could potentially flex some considerable economic and political muscle on the world stage as the nominal leaders of a sizable non-aligned bloc. This opportunity was not one that the Imperium could afford to pass up, not in these turbulent and uncertain times.

“That sounds like a great idea, Grant,” Hawkins finally said. “Tell you what. Let me tie up a couple of loose ends here in the office, and then I’ll arrange to get on a Gulfstream to Woodstock soonest. Is there anything else I need to know before I head out your way?”

"Well for starters Kenne-er, Ken, I haven't told my President the details about this plan," Haffner began. Not that he'd give a shit, Haffner knew. This would fall under the category of doing my fucking job, Haffner realised. Sarzo was taking more of a detached role in how individual departments did their jobs. It was out of necessity, but it was also borne from Sarzo's impatience with micromanagement.

Haffner said, "well, the weather here in Woodstock is rather -- chilly -- for this time of year. Expect temps in the mid-teens." Haffner quickly caught himself. "The daytime high here yesterday was 64 degrees Fahrenheit. Temps get down into the low 40s at night, so if you're going out on the town, you'd better have a jacket with you."

"As far as the conference itself is concerned, the renovations to the David Crosby Convention Centre have just been completed and it's finally been cleared for use. We're going to be meeting there with the External Affairs office complex beginning its regular remodeling schedule."

Haffner knew he didn't need to tell Ken the other reason he wanted the meeting to take place at The Cros. The fewer cooks around to spoil the broth, the better. Especially since Haffner wanted Woodstock and Washington to present a united front. This task was best left done without being under the shadow of Parliament Hall or the Gray House.

"I'm looking forward to having you drop by Ken," Haffner said. "Do you have any other questions about this venture before you arrive?"

While he waited for the answer, Haffner made a mental note to call the Sarzonian Secret Service and Woodstock Air Traffic Command to notify them of the Imperium's visit to Woodstock. The last thing Haffner wanted to do was miss a step.

Hawkins laughed. "Neither have I, and I won't until we have something to say. He'd jump on this second he heard about it if he knew. No, I'm keeping this to myself for now. I told my staff I was going on vacation." He laughed again.

"I'll come prepared for the weather, then," Hawkins said amiably. "Sounds like a refreshing change from the mugginess of Washington. Thanks for the heads-up.

"I do have one question for you, though. Before I use the All-Important Money of the Taxpayer and increase my Equally-Almighty Carbon Footprint flying out to Woodstock," he said dryly, "what do you think the odds are of President Sarzo picking this idea up? I personally think it's a great idea, and even though the President will probably be pissed off I went behind his back on this one, the significance of this meeting will outweigh that. I know he'll back it."

Haffner thought for a moment. He hadn't told Sarzo even the barest outline of his plan, but he figured Sarzo would be supportive once a detailed plan crossed his desk. Sarzo wanted to know the details of what was going on so that he could answer questions when asked; however, as long as people did their fucking job, the chief executive was all in favour of it.

"I'm pretty sure Sarzo would be on board with it," Haffner said. "If I come to him with a detailed plan, he'll likely jump on that like." Haffner let his voice trail off for a moment, deciding the better of the example that crossed his mind. Number one, it was an example that disgusted him no matter how accepting he was of Sarzo's private affairs. Number two, he figured it was inappropriate to discuss with a foreign dignitary. Even one as friendly with him as Ken was.

"Well, you get the idea," Haffner said quickly. "He would likely be willing to go along with a detailed plan that doesn't cause undue harm to Sarzonia or to other nations. With that said, I'm looking forward to seeing you in person. We don't get to do that enough in this business. Sorry to cut this short, but I have to make an unrelated announcement."

After exchanging their farewell pleasantries, Haffner hung up and grabbed the piece of paper handed to him by his secretary. He raced down to the External Affairs Press Office and walked up to the podium after he heard his name.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press corps, interested parties, I am hereby announcing that the Incorporated States of Sarzonia is withdrawing its membership from the Strategic Defence League in light of the current tensions with Falcania. Regardless of Falcanian actions in the future, the Incorporated Sarzonian Government does not see fit to remain in entangling alliances for the foreseeable future.

"There will be no questions." Haffner quickly walked off as the sounds of the press corps' attempted defiance began to cascade down like a bad memory.

"Excellent. In that case, I'll be seeing you in Woodstock shortly."

About ten minutes after saying goodbye to Haffner, he got a "Media Update" from one of his aides involved in one of the State Department's intelligence-gathering offices informing him that Haffner had just announced Sarzonia's withdrawal from the Strategic Defence League, an organization Hawkins did not immediately recognize. It also reminded him that he would be the one to propose the Imperium's withdrawal from the Sovereign League if this meeting resulted in anything substantive. That was going to make Kil mad. He'd singlehandedly gotten the Imperium into the League, and even as Questers and Praetonia drifted away from being the nations he used to know, Kil had still sought formalize relations with them both -- but to no avail. Logically speaking, if Hawkins came away from Woodstock with any decent chance of getting this "armed neutrals" movement off the ground, it could only follow that Washington would withdraw from the League, an organization that claimed many of the QC belligerents as members and was itself indirectly linked to the QC. But, still, Hawkins was now not only going behind Kil's back on a major diplomatic initiative, but one that could potentially undermine of one Kil's own major initiatives, and, as such, his image as a statesman and diplomat.

The hell with his image, Hawkins thought. Fortune favors the bold.

He grabbed his briefcase, threw his laptop and appropriate accessories and some work papers inside, threw on a black trenchcoat, and got into a waiting State Department SUV to take him to Kanos International. Just under thirty minutes later, he was wheels-up for Woodstock on a Gulfstream V, call sign VHF-601.

Haffner surveyed the scene at the newly rebuilt David Crosby Convention Centre and smiled slightly. Everything seemed to be going according to plan. Sarzo was given just a brief outline of whom the conference was with and what it would be about. To Haffner's pleasant surprise, Sarzo was all in favour.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Sarzo said with an excited smile. "If you come up with something, give me the details so I can know when it comes time to address the public. If that time comes," Sarzo said.

"Got it," Haffner said. The approval from Sarzo was the first thing Haffner needed. Now that he had it, he felt much better. He read over the more detailed proposal he'd written out. He also looked in vain for First Partner Jay Tyler. Even though Tyler wasn't officially a national leader, Haffner knew that winning over Tyler often meant winning Sarzo over. Tyler and Sarzo were occupied with other matters after Sarzo read the brief outline of Haffner's plan.

Now the task was to see if there was common ground with Hawkins. Sarzonia and Halberdgardia were like-minded nations, but had never been super close, especially in the wake of the Woodstock Pact's refusal to admit Halberdgardia into its ranks back when that bloc was at the peak of its strength. However, this was the opportunity for Sarzonia to take its next step in the new world as a powerful alternative to the warring factions.

The Sarzonian Secret Service waited patiently for the aircraft to touchdown after air traffic control signalled its permission for Hawkins to land. When he took the last step off the ladder, a tall, slender, black clad agent went up to him somewhat formally.

"Right this way, sir," the agent said, pointing to a black sport utility vehicle of Pacitalian manufacture. Those were the only words the agent spoke as Hawkins stepped into the back seat of the vehicle and it sped off for the David Crosby Convention Centre. An aide to Haffner was in the car, and he introduced himself as Luke Broadwater.

"The 'Cros has been completely refurbished after the Doomani-led terrorist attack," Broadwater said evenly. "It has been cleared for use and it will be the site of the conference since the External Affairs Office Building is under its own renovations."

Broadwater thought briefly about mentioning the Pacitalian make of the SUV but decided the better of it. He figured Hawkins could pick out the manufacture of the vehicle by its telltale design. He also realised that the fact it was a Pacitalian-built SUV would speak volumes in its own right. As the vehicle approached the parking garage, Broadwater hoped the effort his government was expending would not be in vain.

Hawkins stepped off of the Gulfstream, his briefcase in hand and trenchcoat still on, with the exotic and alluring sounds of the "Brazilian Lounge" CD he'd listened to en route still swirling in his head. The smooth sounds and sultry Portuguese lyrics had done much to soothe him on this trip; on many flights longer than two or three hours long, Hawkins usually developed a nasty headache, which was not helped by his propensity to consume at least one glass of wine over the course of the flight, typically in lieu of aspirin. However, the late-afternoon sky over Sarzonia, with a declining and reddening sun easily visible on the horizon, had made for a beautiful sight through the aircraft's viewports. Hawkins had been so engrossed in the skyline -- and his drink -- that he almost forgot there were some e-mails he needed to catch up on.

He had been sifting through his e-mails and various news websites' XML feeds when he spotted one item that gave him pause. It was so relevant to his visit to Woodstock as to be uncanny. The article Hawkins had pulled up was regarding continuing coverage of a summit in Velkya about a possible Havenic non-aligned movement. While that would have hardly lit up Washington's political radar under normal circumstances, it had given Hawkins pause, as this development came right as he sought to start just such a movement with Sarzonia and any other similarly-minded nations. He had wondered if the Havenic nations of this regional non-aligned movement would join any larger movement founded by Halberdgardia and Sarzonia, or if they would remain aloof. Hawkins had feared that, if the latter came to pass, two non-aligned movements, each with multiple superpowers of their own, could potentially undermine the non-alignment premise at best, or end up working at cross-purposes to the point of strained relations at worst. Hawkins had reassured himself that he really had no reason to think any such Havenic movement would be hostile to an extra-regional movement with the same aim, but the current geopolitical situation was such that it was impossible to say for certain.

He almost shook his head to clear these thoughts from his mind, but realized that such an act would likely strike his Sarzonian hosts as unduly strange -- an impression he did not want to give off right at the start of a such an important venture. Instead, he greeted the Sarzonian Secret Service agent with a “hello” and a semi-sloppy salute as he walked with the man towards the waiting vehicle. A Paci vehicle? he thought to himself, surprised. I take it that means Sarzo has made up with Timiocato.

He climbed into the vehicle and greeted Broadwater with a smile and a firm handshake. He nodded as Broadwater talked about the Doomani terrorist attack on the Centre. The mention of one of Woodstock's most implacable enemies brought to Hawkins’ mind the memories of the Incorporated Sarzonian Army’s clashes against Doomani forces in Inkana, and the intelligence about the Doomani military and military technology that then-President Kanos had negotiated to receive from Sarzonia prior to a threatened confrontation with the "Doomies" in defense of one of Halberdgardia's staunchest allies, Space Union. As many saw in Halberdgardia saw it, Kanos' sealing of the Washington-Woodstock alliance had been a definitive moment in Halberdgardia's rise onto the world stage from modestly-sized democracy to a power coming into its own, a nation to be reckoned with.

How things have changed since then, Hawkins thought to himself.

He made small talk with Broadwater until they reached the parking garage. He was ready to have a drink or two with Haffner -- a strong drink.

A beep burst into the middle of Haffner's reverie. Shaking off the cobwebs that came from a daydream, Haffner hesitated for a second before he tapped the button on the intercom system.

"Grant Haffner."

"Mr. Senior Vice President, Hawkins is here."

"Understood."

Haffner looked at the table with two folders neatly arranged across from each other. He looked at the flat screen monitors ready to whir to life at a moment's notice. He examined the scene, looking for one small item out of place. Fortunately, no such item existed.

Then he remembered one thing. Two, actually. He reached into his desk and pulled out a bottle of Somerset brandy.

Those damn Portlanders are at least good for something other than warship designs, Haffner thought for a second as he set one glass across from his own. He set the bottle in a position slightly closer to Hawkins's seat but pretty much in the centre of the table as he heard Hawkins's and Broadwater's steps click-clack closer together.

I guess it's on now, Haffner thought.

As he saw Hawkins's face come slowly into view, he realised it was.

"Good to see you, Grant," Hawkins said with a grin spreading across face. That grin only widened when he saw the drinks Haffner had poured for the two of them. "And it's good to see we're keeping this relatively informal, too," he added wryly.

He set his briefcase down by the chair Haffner had left for him, took off his coat, folded it on his arm, and laid it on the back of the chair before sitting down himself. He settled back heavily and sighed, folding his hands and settling his gaze at a vague point on the table, then looked back up at Haffner. He leaned forward, pulling his chair in as he did so, and put his elbows on the table in front of him.

"So, now that I'm here," he said, "let's talk."