Agrandov
25-04-2009, 04:27
Two figures cut casually through the loose clumps of tourists on the sun-bleached marble steps of the Imperial Palace. Security was much heavier than usual but still relaxed, as a dozen or so soldiers milled around in the shade by the main doors. The Agrandan Democratic Front had been making noise again and was gaining real momentum, but it was the Socialist People's Party that the government was concerned with. After claiming responsibility for the murder of a senior magistrate and being linked to a failed bombing in Anzieg, the group had been declared a terrorist organisation and had been targeted with police raids. Sooner or later a reprisal was expected.
"It's tradition," claimed an attractive young woman, with perfect enunciation.
"It's bribery, is what it is," retorted a grinning, confident young man, "we're bringing him this to secure the contract."
"Every time the military change their service rifle, the Emperor has to bless the new one. It's always been like that, since-"
"Since 1812, I know, but this is completely different. We're bringing him a gold-plated model of a rifle that isn't even in production yet, we don't have the contract-"
"But we will get the contract, Armacorp always does."
The young man reflected on this, and conceded that it was true. The latest adoption by the Agrandan military - the Carnifex MBT - had been accepted in a matter of weeks because there had been no competitors. The two sales reps were at the Palace in Alkra City today to make nice with the Emperor: an ageing figure who could charitably be described as a patriot, or uncharitably described as a rampant xenophobe. Plenty of people were tired of his refusal to get along with other leaders in Gholgoth, and most felt that he was moving Agrandov very slowly in the wrong direction. He had taken sole responsibility for the running of Agrandov in the past ten weeks, after Prime Minister Thomas Byrne resigned from politics over a grievous back injury that rendered him practically immobile.
Outside, the woman was carrying a compact briefcase for the paperwork, and the man carried a much larger item, about a metre long, under his arm. It was wrapped in black cloth, and was evidently quite heavy. They walked through the open double doors of the palace to find another twenty or so soldiers performing various duties around a pair of metal detectors. Most of them were either holding or in reach of K28 rifles, and all had the new Eclipse series pistols at their sides.
The woman walked calmly through the detector, collecting her briefcase on the other side. The man followed suit, placing the cloth-wrapped package into the x-ray machine. The soldier's eyes widened and he pushed a button. The machine locked, leaving the package trapped inside. He stood up, un-clipping the pistol from his holster and resting his hand on the grip.
"Sir," he said loudly, "are you aware that there is a rifle in your case?"
"No it's not like- Er, yes," he paused, his confidence gone in the face of armed security. His eyes were fixed on the pistol, and he noticed that the other soldiers were moving for their rifles. He heard the distinct sound of a K28 charging handle.
"Stand down, all of you!" came a bellowing voice from the back of the room, as a large figure took huge strides into the lobby. The soldiers complied immediately.
"Sorry I'm late," said the newcomer, whose uniform revealed him to be Sergeant Wells. "You're the Armacorp reps, right? I was going to meet you outside."
"We're sorry," began the woman.
"Don't worry about it," finished the Sergeant, "I hope both of you have your papers?"
"Right here."
They were identified as Tom Robinson and Samantha Woods, and were led into a second, larger lobby where the guards wore special uniforms and didn't move or talk. The walls were covered with extremely valuable paintings although the Palace - a modern construction after a fire in 1910 - was a long way from being gaudy. They came up to a pair of steel elevator doors, polished to a mirror shine and framed in black marble, and the Sergeant used a key to get to the 5th floor. From there it was a dozen stairs to the heavy mahogany doors with tasteful gold inlay. The sales reps exchanged knowing glances, the wood was just a cover for nearly thirty centimetres of protective materials, the same composition as tank armour. Armacorp had built them: they were considered entirely bomb-proof and would stop anything smaller than a tank round.
Needless to say, the doors were also soundproof and the Sergeant had to press a small buzzer. There was no click as the magnetic lock obliged and the doors swung open silently.
The visitors were greeted with an extremely spacious office that was exactly circular, with various doors leading to the miscellaneous rooms used by the Emperor and his staff on a daily basis. The rear third of the wall was made entirely out of glass, giving a 120 degree view of the Alkra City skyline. A strip of rich carpet went from the door to the desk, which was by the windows and occupied by a man in quasi-regal garb in his late sixties. He had a head of neat grey hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes, and set his hands down on the black marble of his desk. He glanced briefly at a single piece of paper on his desk.
"So, you are from the company Armacorp. I have been told that your company has been a great boost to the economy of Agrandov."
Neither Robinson nor Woods spoke, as they were not exactly sure of the etiquette for such a meeting. They had expected to drop the gift off, and had ended up in a personal meeting.
"Some would say that it is enough of a gift for a man to see his country prosper... but you have brought something else," he beckoned.
Robinson glanced at Sergeant Wells, seemingly for permission, and received a quick nod. He walked forward and placed the package gently on the massive desk, removing the black cloth and folding it over his arm, revealing a rifle case. He then leant forward and unlocked the case, standing back for the Emperor to open it.
Inside was an item of exquisite manufacture; a fully functioning ACOM rifle plated with gold and fitted with fine wooden furniture. Only the exposed bolt remained steel, and in the case were three gold-plated magazines. They were empty of course, as live ammunition could no be brought by visitors into the Palace for very obvious reasons. The Emperor turned it over, exposing the serial number: "1".
"And you want to issue these to our fine troops?" he asked.
"Not exactly, Sir," said Robinson, "More modern looking. Same mechanism and calibre, but much more capable of meeting modern challenges. We actually have some photos of the proposed version with us," he started.
"I'm sure they are fine," said the Emperor, still enthralled by the gold finish.
There was a brief silence as the Emperor finally put the weapon back into the case, and set it to one side. He did not close it.
"I'm sure that... Armacorp has the best interests of the military at heart. You have my approval, and if there's anything you need me to sign then you can leave it with an aide on the way out."
"Thank you, Sir, thank you for your time," said Robinson respectfully.
"Thank you, Sir," followed Woods.
"It's tradition," claimed an attractive young woman, with perfect enunciation.
"It's bribery, is what it is," retorted a grinning, confident young man, "we're bringing him this to secure the contract."
"Every time the military change their service rifle, the Emperor has to bless the new one. It's always been like that, since-"
"Since 1812, I know, but this is completely different. We're bringing him a gold-plated model of a rifle that isn't even in production yet, we don't have the contract-"
"But we will get the contract, Armacorp always does."
The young man reflected on this, and conceded that it was true. The latest adoption by the Agrandan military - the Carnifex MBT - had been accepted in a matter of weeks because there had been no competitors. The two sales reps were at the Palace in Alkra City today to make nice with the Emperor: an ageing figure who could charitably be described as a patriot, or uncharitably described as a rampant xenophobe. Plenty of people were tired of his refusal to get along with other leaders in Gholgoth, and most felt that he was moving Agrandov very slowly in the wrong direction. He had taken sole responsibility for the running of Agrandov in the past ten weeks, after Prime Minister Thomas Byrne resigned from politics over a grievous back injury that rendered him practically immobile.
Outside, the woman was carrying a compact briefcase for the paperwork, and the man carried a much larger item, about a metre long, under his arm. It was wrapped in black cloth, and was evidently quite heavy. They walked through the open double doors of the palace to find another twenty or so soldiers performing various duties around a pair of metal detectors. Most of them were either holding or in reach of K28 rifles, and all had the new Eclipse series pistols at their sides.
The woman walked calmly through the detector, collecting her briefcase on the other side. The man followed suit, placing the cloth-wrapped package into the x-ray machine. The soldier's eyes widened and he pushed a button. The machine locked, leaving the package trapped inside. He stood up, un-clipping the pistol from his holster and resting his hand on the grip.
"Sir," he said loudly, "are you aware that there is a rifle in your case?"
"No it's not like- Er, yes," he paused, his confidence gone in the face of armed security. His eyes were fixed on the pistol, and he noticed that the other soldiers were moving for their rifles. He heard the distinct sound of a K28 charging handle.
"Stand down, all of you!" came a bellowing voice from the back of the room, as a large figure took huge strides into the lobby. The soldiers complied immediately.
"Sorry I'm late," said the newcomer, whose uniform revealed him to be Sergeant Wells. "You're the Armacorp reps, right? I was going to meet you outside."
"We're sorry," began the woman.
"Don't worry about it," finished the Sergeant, "I hope both of you have your papers?"
"Right here."
They were identified as Tom Robinson and Samantha Woods, and were led into a second, larger lobby where the guards wore special uniforms and didn't move or talk. The walls were covered with extremely valuable paintings although the Palace - a modern construction after a fire in 1910 - was a long way from being gaudy. They came up to a pair of steel elevator doors, polished to a mirror shine and framed in black marble, and the Sergeant used a key to get to the 5th floor. From there it was a dozen stairs to the heavy mahogany doors with tasteful gold inlay. The sales reps exchanged knowing glances, the wood was just a cover for nearly thirty centimetres of protective materials, the same composition as tank armour. Armacorp had built them: they were considered entirely bomb-proof and would stop anything smaller than a tank round.
Needless to say, the doors were also soundproof and the Sergeant had to press a small buzzer. There was no click as the magnetic lock obliged and the doors swung open silently.
The visitors were greeted with an extremely spacious office that was exactly circular, with various doors leading to the miscellaneous rooms used by the Emperor and his staff on a daily basis. The rear third of the wall was made entirely out of glass, giving a 120 degree view of the Alkra City skyline. A strip of rich carpet went from the door to the desk, which was by the windows and occupied by a man in quasi-regal garb in his late sixties. He had a head of neat grey hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes, and set his hands down on the black marble of his desk. He glanced briefly at a single piece of paper on his desk.
"So, you are from the company Armacorp. I have been told that your company has been a great boost to the economy of Agrandov."
Neither Robinson nor Woods spoke, as they were not exactly sure of the etiquette for such a meeting. They had expected to drop the gift off, and had ended up in a personal meeting.
"Some would say that it is enough of a gift for a man to see his country prosper... but you have brought something else," he beckoned.
Robinson glanced at Sergeant Wells, seemingly for permission, and received a quick nod. He walked forward and placed the package gently on the massive desk, removing the black cloth and folding it over his arm, revealing a rifle case. He then leant forward and unlocked the case, standing back for the Emperor to open it.
Inside was an item of exquisite manufacture; a fully functioning ACOM rifle plated with gold and fitted with fine wooden furniture. Only the exposed bolt remained steel, and in the case were three gold-plated magazines. They were empty of course, as live ammunition could no be brought by visitors into the Palace for very obvious reasons. The Emperor turned it over, exposing the serial number: "1".
"And you want to issue these to our fine troops?" he asked.
"Not exactly, Sir," said Robinson, "More modern looking. Same mechanism and calibre, but much more capable of meeting modern challenges. We actually have some photos of the proposed version with us," he started.
"I'm sure they are fine," said the Emperor, still enthralled by the gold finish.
There was a brief silence as the Emperor finally put the weapon back into the case, and set it to one side. He did not close it.
"I'm sure that... Armacorp has the best interests of the military at heart. You have my approval, and if there's anything you need me to sign then you can leave it with an aide on the way out."
"Thank you, Sir, thank you for your time," said Robinson respectfully.
"Thank you, Sir," followed Woods.