NationStates Jolt Archive

Ambassador Genavaie Taggart's eyebrow raised.

"Really, sir? I can't say I've heard of your ragged little asteroid colony."

The man sputtered. "Miss, this is most unorthodox! I have waited six months-"

"I apologise, President.. Ailt, was it?"

"Elt."

"Elt. In any case, sir, I am not affiliated with the Department of Internal Affairs, and, even if we did recognise your independence, I would not be adding legitimacy to your cause by speaking with you. You exist solely because of Realm arms, and paying the taxes affiliated with the Realm keep you safe from such threats as the Fleetmind. You are taxed at a much lower rate than residents of Hypatia, and industrial conglomerates. I advise you to keep that in mind."

The man grasped her by the shoulder, and her soldier-boosts came in to action. Muscle fibres almost tore, but were reinforced with blood-nanites swarming in, repairing muscle before it was able to break. She hefted him up with one hand, holding him above her head.

"I advise you leave. Sir. Before I am forced to ask you less politely."

She set him down gently, turned around, and walked off. He stared at her in disbelief. Scarcely five feet tall, Genavaie was as unintimidating as she was capable.

A minute later, she was running, and jumped into a gravcar. It flew off, sealing up, and taking her into orbit. She was taking a diplomatic craft to Kostemetsia - there were things she wished to discuss with the government in charge. That the Realm wished to discuss with the Kostemetsians. A smile curved her lips.

"I wonder if they're so pushy in Kostemetsia?"




The liner jumped into the Kostemetsian system, broadcasting its arrival to all and sundry. It was not a large craft - about a hundred metres in length, but it carried fairly important cargo. Ambassador Genavaie Taggart came upon it, and a proposal with her.

A flash of light on the outer-rim artificial asteroid's SORDAT screen alerted the young Lieutenant commandant to the liner's pre-arranged entry into protected space.

Ordering the obnoxious surface-to-space fire control AI to stand down, he picked up the headset and adopted his clear, traffic-warden voice.

"Realm starliner, your authorisation has been cleared through control. Please proceed to entry coordinate fifty sierra five and designate a flight path to your ordained Prime-orbital docking station."

He really didn't want to mess this one up. President Hansen had just been inaugurated, and it would not do to have the man see a black mark on his record this early in the piece.

She smiled, bobbed her head - though no-one could see her, it was still polite. The liner moved slowly through the dock - upon reaching it, a shuttle sped out, carrying the ambassador. She quickly combed back a stray strand of hair from in front of her face, and arranged a smile upon it, as well.

The shuttle stopped, and she stepped out. Her uniform was simple, a dark grey top, and a long skirt. She curtesyed gravely to those who had come to meet her.

"I greet you in the name of the Realm. I am Ambassador Taggart."

"Ambassador Taggart, welcome to the Commonwealth," a deep, warm voice replied.

The owner of the voice was the newly elected President of the Commonwealth, Thomas Hansen. Born to immigrant English parents, he was a tall, red-haired and bearded, broad-shouldered 33-year-old. His leftist policies had appealed to the people of Kostemetsia, as well as the powerful perennial General Secretary, James Bovill, who had given the implicit approval that people looked for before doing anything major.

Immaculately uniformed senior Commonwealth Navy officers were standing by, with red epaulettes showing insignia ranging from the four stripes of a Captain to the braid-and-block of a Rear Admiral. Nominally, they were there to guard the President. In reality, that duty fell to the 194th Combined Vector Squadron of the Home Guard, so the officers were just there for impressiveness value.

The President unobtrusively signalled an Inner Office aircar, which came down nigh-silently and automatically opened its rear door.

Turning to the ambassador, he said politely, "If you would, Your Excellency. This aircar will provide transport to the diplomatic offices, which are a few minutes from here."

She inclined her head. "Thank you, President Hansen. It is an honour."

There was little more to say. As an ambassador, there were more jovial people who could've been chosen. Genavaie was often silent, speaking only when she felt something needed to be brought to light. As she rarely betrayed anything, she was one of the Realm's finest diplomats.

She stepped into the aircar, and placed her hands on her lap. It was not good to speak too much, too early. One could lose the interest of those you wished to influence that way.

A few minutes later, the vaguely roundish aircar settled down into its preordained docking bay on the roof of the Central Office. Hansen got out and made his way down a set of stone stairs to the top-floor entry, submitted his fingerprint, and walked in.

The Central Office was the midpoint of the collection of concentric rings known as the Inner Complex, a government machine, with the outer rings being used for tours and public expositions. As you went inwards, the happenings of the rings became progressively more classified, so the Central Office was used only for matters of the highest import.

The interior of the Central Office was occupied by a reasonably large contingent of 194th Squadron staff, as well as the President's personal aides. Everything was of the finest quality.

The red-and-white composite walls were decorated with paintings of famous space battles and beautiful astronomical events, and office doors were unobtrusively integrated.

Trusting the Ambassador to follow, Hansen made his way through the concentric-ring interior of the Office, finally entering the President's Study, which was a room in the centre of the building. Instead of the stone roofing of the rest of the complex, the President's Study had a circular pane of glass covering its entire area.

He politely moved one of the chairs for the Ambassador, then took his own seat.

Not a word was spoken as she followed. She sat down, after the President, quietly looking at the opulence. It must be understood, you see, that the Realm abhors finery. Hypatia is a frozen hellhole, far smaller than Earth, upon which some eight billion people reside. Living space is at a premium, and while energy is relatively cheap, there is little place to use it. Even the grand supercapital ships of the Realm, the battleplates, are designed for utility, not for comfort.

Mildly uncomfortable, she sat down, inclining her head in way of thanks to Hansen. The chair was a little too large - but the Realm's people were short, for that was part of the genetic programs they had undergone.

She smiled. "Well, President Hansen. I must admire your office. Does the glass not make it a tad exposed, though?"

"Not necessarily, Ambassador Taggart. The outgoing President was healthily paranoid, so she had a quantum fold barrier installed in the glass. It basically blocks everything except light and radio. We also have 194th Squadron personnel watching all vectors of attack. This office is as secure as a nuclear bunker."

An eyebrow was raised. Of course, having anything important on the surface of an exposed planet seemed idly foolish to her, but the Realm had its foibles.

She laughed, lightly. "If you say so, your honour. Nevertheless, I feel this small talk merely detracts from the matter at hand, no? Shall we get down to business?"

"Of course, ma'am. I believe the matter we are scheduled to discuss first was pre-arranged by our respective governments - namely, a pact of non-aggression, similar to the Aalthone-Bovill Protocols of the late 2990s."

"Of course. We have no intention to attack your.. nation, and your reciprication in the matter is appreciated."

A pen materialized from her suit, and she smiled. "Would you care for me to sign the treaty you undoubtedly already have, or shall we draft one here and now?"

"...nation"?

Hansen smoothly opened one of the curved drawers of his desk and retrieved what looked like a slightly milky pane of glass.

"Ambassador Taggart, this is the treaty. Your signature will be authenticated against the existing forms you had to sign when you entered the Commonwealth, but we'd also appreciate it if you'd fingerprint the document. We've heard of some nasty incidents where people have, er, 'found' 'obsolete international laws' that compel their nation to declare war on another."

Signing and fingerprinting the document himself, he turned the document around and slid it over to the Ambassador.

Fingerprints. Hm.

The pen etched silvery, moving ink across the page, glowing with an almost imperceptible light. It was not merely a pretty effect - the signature was a link to the living worldmind of Travellia, and, as one touched it, one could feel the reaffirmation of the treaty within the worldmind. Horrendously expensive, but also rather reassuring. The opinion of the worldmind was the decision of the nation, and, therefore, through the signature, one could literally tell if Travellia intended to honour it or not.

Almost as an afterthought, she pressed her finger to the document.

"There. Is there anything else you wish done to authenticate this treaty?"

"No thank you Ambassador, the pen and fingerprint will be quite satisfactory."

Hansen retrieved another item from the drawer - a rounded box studded with cut aquamarines. Sliding back an integrated panel, he fingerprinted the box, tapped in a code on the screen, and listened to the teeth of the solid metal lock thud back.

Lifting the lid, he put the slip of electronic paper into the box. A blue line scanned down the paper, committing a copy of the treaty to the container's integrated drive, which itself was securely hooked into the secure document intranet running throughout the Kostemetsian government. He gently closed the box and put it back in its drawer.

"Now, I believe the next topic of discussion is to be this proposal of a unified battlenet. I'm not much of a military man myself, would you mind enlightening me on what this entails?"

Hansen grinned apologetically.

"Essentially speaking, our ships will share a battlenet encryption protocol - our own protocols will remain for independent action, but when undertaking ventures together, they will be able to switch to a secure network. When it comes to military matters, we will be able to swiftly interface, as is required. By the by, I understand there is some interest in mutual military assistance. What precisely does Kostemetsia desire in this regard?"

Taggart did not smile. But then again, she rarely did. In diplomacy, one only showed your hand when you'd managed to acquire a winning set of cards.

Hansen dropped the smile over a mental cliff edge and adopted a sombre expression.

"Thank you for the explanation of the battlenet protocol. The Commonwealth government bureaucracy would creak into action rather slowly, but I believe I can push it along. As for military aid, well... Kostemetsia would, ideally, desire an international foreign group - a kind of combined international force. Compare pre-United Earth's World Assembly peacekeepers. Our armed forces administration believes that this would increase military efficiency in joint operations. What say you?"

"We were rather considering some sort of military pact - an agreement to aid one another in war, to be frank. I mean no offense, but combined taskforces are often inefficient, and, when it comes to the Realm navy.."

She laughed, perhaps only because Hansen had stopped smiling.

"If you have a battleplate in the region, you have a fleet. If you do not.. you do not. They do not mesh with other fleets. In the same vein, our troops, subscribing to neural squad and company-based links, are not particularly effective when removed from this configuration. My belief is that mutual military aid is simple enough. We will aid you in wars when you so ask, and so shall you aid us. Of course, both parties shall retain the right to refuse aid on grounds of inability, or, should the war be a ridiculous or imperialist one, on moral grounds."

"You make excellent points there, Ambassador. I'll inform my military administration at the close of this meeting. As for refusal of aid - well, we never fight imperialist wars, and we rarely fight ridiculous ones," Hansen said, deadpan.

"Now, as for changes in foreign policy. You've heard of the Interstellar Trade Federation, I take it? Well, not meaning to seem rude here, but we really must insist that you do not attack our allies. We are attempting to solidify a number of alliances, and we believe it would be to our two countries' mutual benefit if you maintained a state of non-aggression against the Federates."

"Of course. If we are not provoked, we will not engage in needless wars with the Interstellar Trade Federation. Though, should they happen to attack us, I am curious as to what Kostemetsia's response should be."

A pause. "Oh, and by the by, have you, as yet, seen a battleplate?"

The question was innocuous. Perhaps it was mere ship-waving, but in Taggart's case, it was an innocent enough way to lead into another subject.

"Kostemetsia would be stuck in a rather difficult moral situation. And as yet, no, I haven't seen a battleplate. I hear they're rather awe-inspiring, though."

Taggart smiled. "We rarely get engaged in pointless wars. Either it's annihilation or nothing. So unless we're provoked to far beyond what you'd consider breaking point, it's unlikely we'll go to war. The simple fact of the battleplate existing in our nation is a testament to that. Oh, and on that note, as an ally, and such a strong one... while we're not quite willing to give away battleplates, we can tell you how to make them. There are some technologies that more nations find quite edifying to possess. We have many of them."

"The question, Ambassador, is: would our navy be able to stand that kind of gigantic personnel share? To my knowledge, battleplates have crews of five million upwards. Our navy could give one million at most, and even that would be stretching it thin. However, the Commonwealth's enemies - the pirates operating in the Outer Territories and the Protectorate - are gradually upgrading their shields to provide an effective defence against our maser technology. A shield-knife does not look feasible in the near future; so to encapsulate our issue, we need bigger, better guns."

An eyebrow lowered. "Of course. I offered technology - there are a great deal many things one must know to build a battleplate. While I respect that not all nations have the desire, or the wherewithal to do so, the manipulation of gravity, the engineering information, the matter-annihilation plants.. the components that make up one of those ships are each extremely useful in their own right. For one, at the very basics, we have what we call a "gravy" gun. It manipulates gravitic pulses in all sorts of random directions at a certain point. If there happens to be a person at that point, they.. stop working. This technology has all sorts of applications, as you could well imagine."