Azazia
29-07-2007, 03:21
"Quieter here," the man said with an appropriately quiet shrug of his broad shoulders. Another man, smaller and more compact in build, walking beside him nodded in agreement and acquiescence. "Much quieter," the first added with an eviscerated smile, "and that, I suppose, is our good fortune."
"Indeed, sir," the second replied.
Together the two men walked along a well-groomed yard, flowers of vibrant amber, crimson, and violet sprinkled with the occasional azure. Beside the flowers rested a retaining wall of grey-blue stone cut roughly but fit in a very precise fashion. And just beyond that, a metre or so below the soft grass upon which their polished loafers tread a body of muddied water rolled on to the north. Ordinarily a rather dark, but clean blue, a heavy storm to the south had silted up the river running its course behind the mansion of the royal governor.
He had just returned from Woodstock in Sarzonia, where, along with mid-level diplomats, bureaucrats, and technocrats he had held discussions with his counterpart who was likely uttering similar sentiments just a few hundred kilometres away. He was Sir Basil Ashford, the Royal Governor of Oceanian Sarnia.
For years, the colony had flirted with peace on and off. While Georgetown and Woodstock had fancied their rhetoric jousts a contest, the only place where the two nations shared a border had suffered. On a monthly basis, somewhere along the line, floodlights would bathe the border in harsh xenon light whilst men and women trained machine guns and mortars upon suspected enemies... and then laughed as nature crossed a border it could neither see nor even care about.
Analysts and pundits never gave much credence to the thought of a hot war between the two countries, least of all over their territories in Sarnia, but tensions and simmering feuds were enough to retard development and the influx of capital, both domestic and foreign. And so Ashford, who fancied himself a visionary, took it upon himself to press both the new Colonial Secretary and the Foreign Secretary to enter into discreet discussions with their counterparts to resolve their differences, at least as they affected Sarnia.
"SABAR is proceeding apace, Thomas," Ashford commented. That was the intended end-result of his vision, SABAR. A treaty limiting the deployment of arms and military personnel on the continent, in essence removing tins of petrol from the flames.
"Have you been down to Port Royal, sir," his deputy asked, knowing full well the answer, "it would seem as if the treaty is already in effect."
In truth, Ashford knew partly why the government had gone along with his proposal. On the return flight, he had received a message from the Colonial Secretary, informing him that half an hour ago the first shots had been fired in distant Haven. The United Kingdom was in a shooting war, and with the rearmament programme from the Novikovian War still ongoing, the Royal Navy needed all the ships it could muster. And places like Sarnia were ripe.
Port Royal, Oceanian Sarnia
In the streets of the distant UK colony, however, the minds lay not upon even more distant conflict, but those far closer to home. On street corners and in pubs and on televisions and for the unfortunate few at work, men and women prattled off facts about progress made under the Conservatives or under the Democratic Socialists and that how either the Democratic Socialists or the Conservatives had done nothing to improve life in the colony.
It was all part of the Colonial Office's plan to extend democratic governance to the settler colony, who were voting for the first time to elect assemblypersons to the new House of Assembly, despite the fact that the physical house of assembly was not yet completed owing to an unanticipated delay in construction.
As the largest city in the colony, Port Royal would also have the largest representation in the assembly, which would consist of 115 persons for a territory of roughly 15 million citizens. The party with the largest number of seats would select a premier to head the local government and thus Sarnia would become another progeny of liberal democracy.
The Following Day
Avalon-on-Avon, Oceanian Sarnia
"Are these official, Thomas," Ashford asked, peering up at his deputy from above the rim of his reading glasses. The Supervisor of Elections had dropped off the final count in accordance with protocol and as the official representative of the Crown, it was Ashford's obligation to provide official recognition of the will of the people.
His deputy nodded. "The Tories have won, sir. The Prime Minister shall likely be enjoying this bit of good news."
"I say it shall be the only good news today," Ashford replied heavily. Reports from Haven, while not yet confirmed by the Admiralty, indicated that two dozen aircraft carriers had been sunk along with half a dozen dreadnoughts as well as substantial NATO casualties along the only border where UK troops were positioned. "Have they decided who shall be premier, Thomas?"
"Graham Farrington, sir. The youngish chap from the west, Inverselby if I recall."
"Not too bad of a speaker, though I suppose they shall have the opportunity to craft our own Sarnian form of Oceanian parliamentary politics."
"I doubt it shall be any different."
"In which case, I am glad I am a representative of the King."
The two men shared a laugh for the first time in two days.
"Indeed, sir," the second replied.
Together the two men walked along a well-groomed yard, flowers of vibrant amber, crimson, and violet sprinkled with the occasional azure. Beside the flowers rested a retaining wall of grey-blue stone cut roughly but fit in a very precise fashion. And just beyond that, a metre or so below the soft grass upon which their polished loafers tread a body of muddied water rolled on to the north. Ordinarily a rather dark, but clean blue, a heavy storm to the south had silted up the river running its course behind the mansion of the royal governor.
He had just returned from Woodstock in Sarzonia, where, along with mid-level diplomats, bureaucrats, and technocrats he had held discussions with his counterpart who was likely uttering similar sentiments just a few hundred kilometres away. He was Sir Basil Ashford, the Royal Governor of Oceanian Sarnia.
For years, the colony had flirted with peace on and off. While Georgetown and Woodstock had fancied their rhetoric jousts a contest, the only place where the two nations shared a border had suffered. On a monthly basis, somewhere along the line, floodlights would bathe the border in harsh xenon light whilst men and women trained machine guns and mortars upon suspected enemies... and then laughed as nature crossed a border it could neither see nor even care about.
Analysts and pundits never gave much credence to the thought of a hot war between the two countries, least of all over their territories in Sarnia, but tensions and simmering feuds were enough to retard development and the influx of capital, both domestic and foreign. And so Ashford, who fancied himself a visionary, took it upon himself to press both the new Colonial Secretary and the Foreign Secretary to enter into discreet discussions with their counterparts to resolve their differences, at least as they affected Sarnia.
"SABAR is proceeding apace, Thomas," Ashford commented. That was the intended end-result of his vision, SABAR. A treaty limiting the deployment of arms and military personnel on the continent, in essence removing tins of petrol from the flames.
"Have you been down to Port Royal, sir," his deputy asked, knowing full well the answer, "it would seem as if the treaty is already in effect."
In truth, Ashford knew partly why the government had gone along with his proposal. On the return flight, he had received a message from the Colonial Secretary, informing him that half an hour ago the first shots had been fired in distant Haven. The United Kingdom was in a shooting war, and with the rearmament programme from the Novikovian War still ongoing, the Royal Navy needed all the ships it could muster. And places like Sarnia were ripe.
Port Royal, Oceanian Sarnia
In the streets of the distant UK colony, however, the minds lay not upon even more distant conflict, but those far closer to home. On street corners and in pubs and on televisions and for the unfortunate few at work, men and women prattled off facts about progress made under the Conservatives or under the Democratic Socialists and that how either the Democratic Socialists or the Conservatives had done nothing to improve life in the colony.
It was all part of the Colonial Office's plan to extend democratic governance to the settler colony, who were voting for the first time to elect assemblypersons to the new House of Assembly, despite the fact that the physical house of assembly was not yet completed owing to an unanticipated delay in construction.
As the largest city in the colony, Port Royal would also have the largest representation in the assembly, which would consist of 115 persons for a territory of roughly 15 million citizens. The party with the largest number of seats would select a premier to head the local government and thus Sarnia would become another progeny of liberal democracy.
The Following Day
Avalon-on-Avon, Oceanian Sarnia
"Are these official, Thomas," Ashford asked, peering up at his deputy from above the rim of his reading glasses. The Supervisor of Elections had dropped off the final count in accordance with protocol and as the official representative of the Crown, it was Ashford's obligation to provide official recognition of the will of the people.
His deputy nodded. "The Tories have won, sir. The Prime Minister shall likely be enjoying this bit of good news."
"I say it shall be the only good news today," Ashford replied heavily. Reports from Haven, while not yet confirmed by the Admiralty, indicated that two dozen aircraft carriers had been sunk along with half a dozen dreadnoughts as well as substantial NATO casualties along the only border where UK troops were positioned. "Have they decided who shall be premier, Thomas?"
"Graham Farrington, sir. The youngish chap from the west, Inverselby if I recall."
"Not too bad of a speaker, though I suppose they shall have the opportunity to craft our own Sarnian form of Oceanian parliamentary politics."
"I doubt it shall be any different."
"In which case, I am glad I am a representative of the King."
The two men shared a laugh for the first time in two days.