NationStates Jolt Archive

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Official Government Announcement

The Republic of Kalbekistan, in accordance with its new foreign policy of greater international involvement to further the mutual interests of the Republic and other nations, wishes to announce the following.

Firstly, that the Republic of Kalbekistan and the Empire of Neo-Ixania have concluded agreements on a student exchange program, allowing students of the Empire and students of the Republic to be educated in each-other's nations, to better develop cultural and political ties between our two countries and thus further greater economic and political development. Furthermore, the government of the Republic would like to invite the Empire to enter into negotiations for the formation of an Alliance between our two states to further promote the general welfare and security of our respective countries.

Secondly, the Republic would like to announce that negotiations with the Imperial Junta of Questers has resulted in an agreement to establish a Questarian military base within the territory of the Republic to promote the general defence of Kalbekistan in exchange for Questarian interests in Kalbeki natural gas supplies. The Republic hopes this will further relations between our two states, and act as a deterrent to hostile foreign forces who may consider the Republic an easy addition to their imperial ambitions.

Abdul Kahn
President of the Republic of Kalbekistan

With the sun rising behind it and setting long shadows from the buildings of the base, the Questarian flag flapped slowly in the morning wind over the Questarian airbase in Kalbekistan. Today was a big day for the base and all personnel were on top form for the arrival of their commanding officer.

The six mighty Westland turbofans slowly geared to a halt as the 375 million dollar aircraft stopped its course just a few metres from the end of the runway. The superheavy cargo aircraft known for its loud propulsion and incredible carrying space was part of 1029 Regiment, the aerial group stationed in Kalbekistan, and was the latest aircraft to arrive. In a gesture of peace, no active military aircraft had been assigned to 1029 Regiment, but some air superiority aircraft had been brought in to fly airshows and such, and painted in non-aggressive colours such as light blue. In the following months, the airbase would occasionally admit civilian visitors to look around the aircraft that 1029 Regiment had been posted with. 'Docking' a Westland Warspite C.3 is no easy task, and Brigadier Berkeley had to wait impatiently for the better part of a half hour before the ladder was brought up for him to walk down. In his uniform, it was clear that he was in a position of superiority, which he was: the base commander. As he descended from the steps, a small band of three marines played God Save the King, and the two current base commanders - the Air Defence Officer Captain Richards and the Flight Operations Officer Major Martin gave a sharp salute. "Welcome to Kalbekistan, sir."

The RAF station at Kalbekistan, yet to receive a name, was small in nature. Politically it lacked what the commanding staff would like it to have - long range radars, armoured or perhaps underground hangars, concealed fuel depots, and bomber runways. The station of marines was still pouring in, but a regiment of troops would eventually be deployed and, with their aircraft, made available to the Kalbekistanis in the case of a natural disaster or another such scenario. Stationed with two dozen cargo aircraft and a similar number of helicopters, it was well endowed for this sort of work. Work on the station was still going on, with marines building their own barracks and laying roads and generally constructing the camp. The Command Complexes was one of the first buildings constructed, and also the only one placed underground. It was well ventilated and cooled, and like most Command Complexes, not only comfortable but a vast reminder of home, from carpet to photographs hanging on the world. The Command Room itself was at the centre of the complex, surrounded by various office rooms and the living quarters of the officers.

After arriving, Brigadier Berkeley settled in and, in typical Questarian fashion, went straight down to business. Assembling his officers, he requested a meeting with members of the Kalbekistani Military and Government, at his base.

The trundling of wheels skidding around a corner caused several people to glance up from their work and hastily move aside from being hit by the oncoming vehicle, mild exclamations being heard from several people as they scrambled from the path of the vehicle as it raced along its own self-determined route. The bike took another corner at speed, narrowly avoiding another obstacle before diving through the entranceway ahead with careless abandon for objects or persons ahead.

President Abdul Kahn looked up from the briefing papers in front of him at the noise, and smiled as his daughter came earnestly cycling into the Presidential Office on a small tricycle with two Presidential Security Agents in hot pursuit. The bike rolled sheepishly to a stop at the edge of the President's large desk, before the shining eyes of the six-year-old child popped up from the other side of the oak table as she determinedly climbed up and across the wood, hiding in her father's arms.

General Ai-Wahed Ghazal, Chairman of the Kalbeki Military Command, frowned in distaste from where he stood across the room next to projector unit, which was currently showing the layout of the Questarian RAF base as given by the Questarian government when they began deploying. "Mister President, I really must protest," the General began. "This is a high-security briefing and-"

"Oh come, General." Kahn said with a smile. "She's hardly going to be spying for the Communists, is she?" Looking back at his daughter, Abdul looked at his daughter. "Now, Farseea, what are you causing all this racket about?" he asked gently.

Farseea stuck her bottom lip out. "I don't want to take a bath, it's stupid," she protested in a sulky voice. The First Lady had appeared at the door by this point, looking at the girl with the wearied frustration known by all parents at some point.

Kahn chuckled to himself, hugging the girl gently. "But you'll smell, my little gem."

"Don't care." The girl huffed and folded her arms.

The President sighed. "Okay, if you go take your bath, then you can have an extra story at bed-time tonight."

Farseea muttered under her breath, but nodded. Kahn smiled, turning her back to the door and blowing a kiss to his wife, who smiled as she stooped to pick up Farseea and then departed. The door closed softly behind them.

Kahn turned back to the General. "You were saying?" he said, leaning back in the plush leather chair.

The General, unsettled, cleared his throat. "Yes sir," he said, turning back to the projector. "Well, it seems that the Questarians have taken their word and not deployed any offensive military assets within the base, and that the construction of the site seems to be going according to plan." He turned back to the President. "The Base Commander has requested officials of the military and the government to meet him at the base to further coordinate matters."

Kahn, sensing an edge to the General's voice, frowned. "Is there a problem?" he asked firmly.

General Ghazal sighed. "Mister President, with all due respect, my views on having...foreigners basing their troops on Kalbek soil are well recorded," he said as diplomatically as possible. "However, this invitation seems...offensive to me; like asking the landlord to come and negotiate the rent at their own house."

Khan chuckled. "Come now General," he said, clasping his hands together. "I am sure that the Base Commander...what's his name again?"

Ghazal glanced at his files. "Brigadier Berkely, sir," he responded.

Kahn nodded. "I'm sure the Bridadier is simply a practical military man such as yourself, and was merely thinking about practical military neccessity rather than any particular insult." The President paused for a moment, thinking. "However," he conceded, "it would be good publicity to the nationalists to make it look like I'm on top of the situation, even in a token gesture. Besides, I'd like to take a look at these Questarians myself."

Kahn pushed a button on the intercom. "Farasha," he said to his Secretary. "Get the Minister for Foreign Affairs in here."

It was a few moments before Abu Al-Nasser arrived, entering the door and nodding politely to both the President and the General. Kahn smiled. "Ah, Abu, my old friend," he said easily. "Send a message to the Commander of Questarian base and inform him that the President of the Kalbeki Republic, the Chairman of the Kalbeki Military Command, the Kalbeki Minister for Foreign Affairs and the Kalbeki Minister for Defence would be delighted to accept his invitation to meet regarding matters of mutual cooperation and security, and that he shall be given the courtesy of five hours to prepare his command according to any military custom required for the visitation of foreign dignitaries."

Al-Nasser smiled. "Of course, sir," he said, turning and leaving the room.

The President turned back to his General. "That should be enough for now," Kahn said. "Now, what's next?"

"We have the latest intelligence reports regarding the Islamic-connected shooting last week..."

Questarian Base

"Outstanding." Berkeley was the only one of five officers in their rather luxurious mess that wasn't sipping a cup of tea or chewing on a sandwich as he spoke, and he waited patiently for the first to finish, as it was considered somewhat rude, especially for an officer, to talk with ones mouth full. He screwed up the message and chucked it into the paper bin just feet away.

"I suppose they accepted?" Major Martin replied first, moments after gulping down some white bread, flavoured with his favourite strawberry jam. "After all, they could hardly say 'no, bugger off' could they?" He joked.

"Quite." Berkeley murmured. "They're to meet us in five hours. I should expect the base to be in tip-top shape by then." This was met with nods all round, as if they were waiting for Berkeley to say something else. Instead, he just stroked his moustache. After it was obvious he didn't intend to continue, the Air Defence Officer spoke up.

"I assume the subject of the meeting will include IFF?" As his job suggested, the ADO was keen to avoid any incidents with his air defence equipment and the Kalbekistani Air Force, or civilian aircraft for that matter.

"Yes, that's quite true." Berkeley began to pour himself another cup of tea. "Generally, I'd like to give them the once-over. I'm more concerned about the type of people I'm dealing with, as the intelligence briefing was sparse to say the least." The most junior officer was a Lieutenant Grahams, who with the timidness of a mole found the courage to ask a question of the man twenty years his senior.

"Are we considering any co-op exercises with their Army, perhaps?"

"Good question." Berkeley leaned over to finish making his tea and looked down into the murky cup as he stirred the milk around. "I'm sure if their people are up to it, we can make the necessary arrangements."

Within four hours the base was looking as sharp as ever, but still somewhat shabby given the conditions. As the Kalbekistani convoy arrived at the base it was met with a sharp salute and a warm welcome from the guards, but also by the crews of all the aircraft lined up outside their planes on the tarmac, each wearing their traditional beret and a stiff salute to go with it. However, the convoy drove on past them and the Kalbekistanis were instructed to leave their vehicles and were escorted down into the meeting room.

The five Questarian officers sat on one side of the table, and comfortable chairs, ashtrays, and glasses of water were already provided. Upon first contact with the Kalbekistani Head of State, Brigadier Berkeley stood up and offered his hand out, with a diplomatic smile on his face.

"Sir, I am Brigadier Berkeley, Questarian Army. On behalf of the Empire I welcome you to this base, and congratulate you on your country and your recent political victory."

The trip was uneventful, the convoy of limousines cruising through the capital city before taking one of the major roads out of the town and into the desert. The Questarian military base was situated in the west of the country, so as to allow access to the port town and naval base of Krasnowodsk in the north-west. The entire trip took about 6 hours, so the Questarians were in a reasonable shape when the convoy pulled up inside the base. The group was ushered by military officers across the complex and into the meeting room indicated by polite Questarian officers.


The five Questarian officers sat on one side of the table, and comfortable chairs, ashtrays, and glasses of water were already provided. Upon first contact with the Kalbekistani Head of State, Brigadier Berkeley stood up and offered his hand out, with a diplomatic smile on his face.

"Sir, I am Brigadier Berkeley, Questarian Army. On behalf of the Empire I welcome you to this base, and congratulate you on your country and your recent political victory."

President Kahn took a split-second to size up the Questarian officer. He had little contact with foreigners bar the Russian personnel he remembered from his youth. He smiled broadly, and took the Brigadier's hand firmly within his own, shaking the Questarian's hand.

"Brigadier Berkeley, I am Abdul Kahn. Thankyou for your welcome and your congratulations. In return, I welcome you to the Republic of Kalbekistan."

The President took a moment to introduce the other members of his group, the Ministers and the General that had accompanied him. "Now," the President said, clasping his hands together. "Shall we get to business?"

The Kalbeki entourage took a seat opposite the Questarians, awaiting them to begin with the agenda.

OOC: I am sending my diplomat now.

Waldemar Eisenberg looked at the reports about Kalbekistan that were on his desk as he adjusted the portrait of his wife and children with a smile on his face. He had just been promoted by his superiors and his wife, Princess Elizabeth of Oxford (Muscovan) had given birth to a new daughter which they named after her; they had two children prior: a son named Wilhelm and a daughter named Alexandra. His beautiful wife had made him famous throughout the Foreign Ministry and he enjoyed quiet romantic nights with her when he could. Recently, he had been appointed by the Foreign Ministry to visit Kalbekistan to discuss the creation of an alliance. Dressed in the best suit he could find, he put his reports into his briefcase and walked out of the work room; one of many in his mansion. His wife was busy with the children but he stopped by the nursery room to give her a quick kiss before leaving. "Be careful, Waldemar." Elizabeth told him calmly. "When you return, we can arrange a visit to Muscovan."

The plane; the same jet he had used during his visit to Muscovan (where he fell in love with Elizabeth) had been waiting for him; the guards, pilots and attendants all in their proper positions. Walking into the plane, he could only think about the meeting. As the pliots were taking off, he was looking at the picture of his wife in his wallet and he smiled; she was the most precious woman to him in the world. He would read about Kalbekistan as the plane flew to this newfound nation; finding out that Abdul Khan had a wife and children like he did; that made him remember his family. An attendant brought him his dinner and he spent the night watching some talk shows; including a satirical comedy that poked fun at world events and politicians. Waldemar spent the early morning hours reading his reports; an attendant told him that the plane would land in the afternoon. When the plane did land, Waldemar walked silently out of the plane and looked at the buildings that composed the airport. "Finally, I am in Kalbekistan."

"Indeed." Berkeley said. "This is my senior staff - Major Martin, Captain Richards, Group Captain Flanley-Hawkinson, and Lieutenant Grahams." The four men nodded and shook the hands of the Head of State.

"Indeed. Mister President, I first would like to assure you that the Questarian base in Kalbekistan has no offensive nature whatsoever. Afterwards, I would be quite happy to provide you and your cabinet a tour of this base to prove this to you. Now, I am aware that the establishment of this particular base is not exactly wide-welcomed in your country, so I am offering to run a few hearts and minds operations - if you will - to show your people that we are here to help and nothing else. Should you require it, the base garrison is essentially at your disposal. Furthermore, we would like to run open days where members of the public can come and visit, take a look around at our aircraft and such."

He continued.

"Now, ah, General Ghazal, I do believe that my Air Defence Officer has a word to say."

Richards picked up where his commanding officer had left off. "Indeed. Now, I think it would be in the interest of both of us if our respective air forces were to cooperate in matters such as identification, as you know, accidents do happen. What I propose, with the agreement of Major Martin and Brigadier Berkele, is a mutual agreement. Unless called upon, our aircraft will not leave an area of 80 miles squared - about 130 kilometres - around our base, and your aircraft, again unless called upon, will not enter this box. This allows us to be entirely accident friendly. I know that politically this may seem... perhaps too demanding, but it would minimise the chances of a blue on blue incident."

The Questarians awaited the Kalbeki response patiently.

Saeed Ahmed was a high-ranking official within the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, assigned to handle the Neo-Ixanian official until they arrived at the negotiations. Leaning against the Mercedes limousine sent to collect Eisenburg, Saeed was trying not to show any nerves at his first important assignment since his promotion. Once collected, Eisenburg would be taken to the Presidential Palace to conduct negotiations with the Minister of Home Affairs, several officials from that ministry and the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, and later would sign the bill alongside the President in a diplomatic ceremony.

Saeed looked up as the Neo-Ixanian aircraft taxied across the tarmac towards him. He stood straight, the two years of military service in his earlier youth still present in his mindset when meeting important officials. The Mercedes he stood by flew a flag of the Kalbeki Republic from one corner of the bonnet and a flag of the Neo-Ixanian Empire from the other to represent the diplomatic relations between the two states. Accompanying Saeed was an official driver, two members of the Presidential Guard as a bodyguard service, and a second limousine to carry the foreign official’s aides and assistants.

As the Neo-Ixanian official left the aircraft and looked around at his surroundings, Saeed put on his best diplomatic smile, made sure one last time he had memorised the Neo-Ixanian’s name from his notes, and stepped forward to meet the man. Holding out his hand in greeting, Saeed nodded politely. “Mister Waldemer Eisenburg, I welcome to the Republic of Kalbekistan on behalf of my government. Please, come this way.” He gestured to the vehicles.

The convoy pulled away as soon as everyone was seated, leaving the airport limits and moving out into the late afternoon traffic. Several groups of people who had heard about the meeting from news reports had culminated at the entrance to the airport, holding placards and banners with anti-foreign slogans scrawled across them. They were being held behind cordons by members of the National Police Force as the limousines passed by and the chanting of phrases increased tenfold.

Saeed licked his lips nervously. “I apologise, Mister Eisenburg,” he said, turning to the official. “There are still sizeable sections of our population that see greater international involvement as contrary to our best interests.” Saeed leaned back in the seat before adding, “Years of Soviet rule tends to do that to people.”

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

The President nodded as he listened to the Brigadier’s comments on the base and its capabilities. Kahn had certainly seen very little in the way of what he would describe as offensive military assets, and this reassured him that the Questarian’s appeared to take their word seriously when they gave it. In discussing the ‘hearts and minds’ ideas, the President nodded as he listened, approving of the idea.

Then the Air Defence Officer spoke to General Ghazal, proposing the Questarian no-fly zone. Kahn watched Ghazal closely from the corner of his eye. He had ordered the Chairman of the Military Command to be on his best diplomatic behaviour, which the General appeared to be maintaining. He was managing to keep a diplomatically neutral face as he listened to the Questarian officer, and waited until the Questarian had finished before speaking.

“I of course agree that there needs to be contingency plans in place to ensure that there is no accidents between our respective air force equipment or personnel,” the General said in a neutral tone. “80 miles seems to be an acceptable limit, although I would like to ask to clarify the notion of ‘unless called upon’. I understand that this notion is to protect the sovereignty of our airspace outside of this box, but if there are valid reasons for Kalbeki aircraft to enter within the 80 mile no-fly zone, does this mean that the Kalbeki Military Command would still have to gain permission from personnel here to enter this box?”

Kahn shot the Ghazal a sharp look. The General was picking at small details wherever possible, trying to poke holes in the Questarian’s reasonable offers for military safety and personnel security. It was a cheap trick, and Kahn would have words with the General at a later time. Turning back to the Brigadier to save on any further awkward diplomatic moments, the President smiled broadly. “As Commander-in-Chief of the Kalbeki Armed Forces, I agree to this 80 mile no-fly-zone on the conditions put forward. After all, we are all gentlemen here, and I think that any small problems can be ironed out in due course as relations between our two nations improve.”

“Furthermore,” the President added before Ghazal could speak again. “I agree that ‘hearts and minds’ need to be won in the establishment of this base, and am intrigued to hear more about what you have in mind for this. Furthermore, I am very much looking forward to a tour of this installation.”

Saeed Ahmed was a high-ranking official within the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, assigned to handle the Neo-Ixanian official until they arrived at the negotiations. Leaning against the Mercedes limousine sent to collect Eisenburg, Saeed was trying not to show any nerves at his first important assignment since his promotion. Once collected, Eisenburg would be taken to the Presidential Palace to conduct negotiations with the Minister of Home Affairs, several officials from that ministry and the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, and later would sign the bill alongside the President in a diplomatic ceremony.

Saeed looked up as the Neo-Ixanian aircraft taxied across the tarmac towards him. He stood straight, the two years of military service in his earlier youth still present in his mindset when meeting important officials. The Mercedes he stood by flew a flag of the Kalbeki Republic from one corner of the bonnet and a flag of the Neo-Ixanian Empire from the other to represent the diplomatic relations between the two states. Accompanying Saeed was an official driver, two members of the Presidential Guard as a bodyguard service, and a second limousine to carry the foreign official’s aides and assistants.

As the Neo-Ixanian official left the aircraft and looked around at his surroundings, Saeed put on his best diplomatic smile, made sure one last time he had memorised the Neo-Ixanian’s name from his notes, and stepped forward to meet the man. Holding out his hand in greeting, Saeed nodded politely. “Mister Waldemer Eisenburg, I welcome to the Republic of Kalbekistan on behalf of my government. Please, come this way.” He gestured to the vehicles.

The convoy pulled away as soon as everyone was seated, leaving the airport limits and moving out into the late afternoon traffic. Several groups of people who had heard about the meeting from news reports had culminated at the entrance to the airport, holding placards and banners with anti-foreign slogans scrawled across them. They were being held behind cordons by members of the National Police Force as the limousines passed by and the chanting of phrases increased tenfold.

Saeed licked his lips nervously. “I apologise, Mister Eisenburg,” he said, turning to the official. “There are still sizeable sections of our population that see greater international involvement as contrary to our best interests.” Saeed leaned back in the seat before adding, “Years of Soviet rule tends to do that to people.”

"That must be my greeter."

Waldemar Eisenberg smiled as he firmly shook the hand of his Kalbeki acquaintance; it had been nice to meet people in this relatively new nation that came into the world. "Mr. Ahmed, it is nice to meet you here. Yes; I am Waldemar Eisenberg; a leader of the Foreign Ministry of Neo-Ixania."

Walking into the limosuine, he was thinking about the meeting as he took his seat. He began looking out the window for several minutes before he could hear chanting and see placards in the distance. He immediately guessed that some citizens did not want foreigners here and Waldemar could tell that Saeed was nervous. "I can understand why they would dislike foreigners. So far, I do not know of any anti-foreign protests in Neo-Ixania. Ixanians do mix with foreigners often; my wife, for example, is the Princess of Oxford in Muscovan and the Empress of Neo-Ixania is a half-Ixanian; her mother was a full-blooded German.

After several minutes of listening to chanting, Waldemar smiled at Saeed. "The Empire of Neo-Ixania, I am sure, has made its wishes clear to the Kalbeki government. An alliance, free trade, an education program and lessened restrictions on tourists is what Neo-Ixania wants. I hope that Ixanian tourists are not targetted by these anti-foreigner protestors; I would not have to want to hear that a man was killed or that a woman was raped or something like that; it would cause a scandal." Waldemar was silent for a few seconds. "Mr. Ahmed, what does the Kalbeki government, if you know, want from the Empire?"

"That must be my greeter."

Waldemar Eisenberg smiled as he firmly shook the hand of his Kalbeki acquaintance; it had been nice to meet people in this relatively new nation that came into the world. "Mr. Ahmed, it is nice to meet you here. Yes; I am Waldemar Eisenberg; a leader of the Foreign Ministry of Neo-Ixania."

Walking into the limosuine, he was thinking about the meeting as he took his seat. He began looking out the window for several minutes before he could hear chanting and see placards in the distance. He immediately guessed that some citizens did not want foreigners here and Waldemar could tell that Saeed was nervous. "I can understand why they would dislike foreigners. So far, I do not know of any anti-foreign protests in Neo-Ixania. Ixanians do mix with foreigners often; my wife, for example, is the Princess of Oxford in Muscovan and the Empress of Neo-Ixania is a half-Ixanian; her mother was a full-blooded German.

Saeed smiled briefly, relieved that the diplomat appeared to be congenial when it came to the protests outside the car. The angry public had been left in the rear view mirror by now, and the two limousines were pulling out into the busy traffic of the afternoon as they head for the Presidential Palace. "It is fascinating to think of such an open country when it comes to foreigners," Saeed said with genuine interest. "In Kalbekistan, we have had little contact with foreigners bar the Soviets that controlled our country for so long."

After several minutes of listening to chanting, Waldemar smiled at Saeed. "The Empire of Neo-Ixania, I am sure, has made its wishes clear to the Kalbeki government. An alliance, free trade, an education program and lessened restrictions on tourists is what Neo-Ixania wants. I hope that Ixanian tourists are not targetted by these anti-foreigner protestors; I would not have to want to hear that a man was killed or that a woman was raped or something like that; it would cause a scandal." Waldemar was silent for a few seconds. "Mr. Ahmed, what does the Kalbeki government, if you know, want from the Empire?"

Saeed cleared his throat. "I myself am not at liberty to negotiate on behalf of the government of the Republic," he said diplomatically, remembering his trained answers for such questions. Then, lowering his voice, Saeed leaned across to Waldemar. "But, so far as I am aware, they are looking for essentially the same thing. I believe they also wish to discuss investment opportunities in Kalbeki industry and infrastructure concerns. We still have some way to develop as a nation."

The limousines pulled into the compound surrounding the Foreign Ministry, with more protesters outside the large, bullet-proof gates, many waving nationalist or Communist flags in their midst. Members of the National Police Force stood outside the compund, fully armed and equipped for riot control purposes. After the vehicles entered the compound, the doors closed behind them and the group was ushered from the vehicles by smiling Ministerial aides into the building. Saeed escorted Waldemer through the building to one of the guest suites set aside for diplomatic visitors, comprising a bed, a large sofa, a table arranged with food and refreshments, a television and an en suite. "I'm sure you wish to rest after the flight," Saeed said politely. "We will begin negotiations this evening, if this is acceptable to you?"

Saeed smiled briefly, relieved that the diplomat appeared to be congenial when it came to the protests outside the car. The angry public had been left in the rear view mirror by now, and the two limousines were pulling out into the busy traffic of the afternoon as they head for the Presidential Palace. "It is fascinating to think of such an open country when it comes to foreigners," Saeed said with genuine interest. "In Kalbekistan, we have had little contact with foreigners bar the Soviets that controlled our country for so long."

"Ixanians have been in contact with foreigners for centuries; especially with Europeans. The Empress, Anastasia II, has launched a diplomatic program aimed at establishing diplomatic relations with other nations. As for Soviet control over Kalbekistan, I assume that the residue still can be found."


Saeed cleared his throat. "I myself am not at liberty to negotiate on behalf of the government of the Republic," he said diplomatically, remembering his trained answers for such questions. Then, lowering his voice, Saeed leaned across to Waldemar. "But, so far as I am aware, they are looking for essentially the same thing. I believe they also wish to discuss investment opportunities in Kalbeki industry and infrastructure concerns. We still have some way to develop as a nation."

"Investment in Kalbeki industry? I am sure that the Ixanian Government would agree to investing in your nation's industry; right now our nation is helping Achae-Ottonia modernize; I am sure we can help Kalbekistan develop into a modern nation."

The limousines pulled into the compound surrounding the Foreign Ministry, with more protesters outside the large, bullet-proof gates, many waving nationalist or Communist flags in their midst. Members of the National Police Force stood outside the compund, fully armed and equipped for riot control purposes. After the vehicles entered the compound, the doors closed behind them and the group was ushered from the vehicles by smiling Ministerial aides into the building. Saeed escorted Waldemer through the building to one of the guest suites set aside for diplomatic visitors, comprising a bed, a large sofa, a table arranged with food and refreshments, a television and an en suite. "I'm sure you wish to rest after the flight," Saeed said politely. "We will begin negotiations this evening, if this is acceptable to you?"

"There are more protesters, Saeed, some of them waving Communist flags. I am sure that the old system still has plenty of support; or it is simply that they just do not like foreigners; thinking they come to take their independence. In Neo-Ixania, we do not have protests over interaction with foreigners much; no foreign nation has tried to take control of the Ixanian motherland."

Walking into the building with Saeed, Waldemar could see the guest suite that was furnished for him. He smiled and thanked Saeed for the hospitality; telling him that he did not mind beginning the negotiations in the evening. When Saeed left, Waldemar turned on the television and watched some Kalbeki-language programs but occassionally would imagine the meeting in his mind.