Diplomatic relations
07 Nov 2015Desert Fox CXVII
'Ah! Ambassador, welcome to New Carthage! I trust your flight was comfortable.'I shut off my console and stand up, arms outstretched. My office is lit only by thin bars of blue sunlight arcing in from the shuttered window. The ambassador steps through the doorway, his nose crinkling when it meets the thick haze of tobacco smoke hanging over the room.
'Oh we passed through an ion storm in Bridi, but your pilot handled himself very well. Barely felt a thing.'
He observes the room with a wary look, eyes flicking from my antique mahogany desk covered in datapads, to the bookcase filled with ancient terran texts.
'Fan of classical literature, I take it?' He asks, eyes sliding over to me.
'Oh, I try. Military history is more of my forte, if I'm being honest. There's quite a few volumes on Earth's world wars, especially the first two. There's a particularly good text on the battle of the Somme; did you know that the soldiers.... Oh I apologize, you didn't come here to listen to me ramble about history; please, have a seat.' I gesture to the red synth-leather chair in front of my desk. He sits, back straight as a board, that wary look still on his face. He is a haughty looking man, just shy of middle age, I'd say late 60's, or early 70's, with slate gray hair and eyes the color of ice chips. To me, he looks to be the type of person used to getting his way, one way or another.
'Now, ambassador, before we get down to business, would you care for something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger perhaps?' I ask, with the best smile I can muster.
He pauses, considering for a moment. 'Wine, if you have it.'
'Of course. Meredith!' I call through the open door. Almost immediately, a small mousy haired woman dressed in a simple red gown and purple shawl steps into the room. She smiles and curtsies, bowing her head.
'What can I do for you, m'lord?'
'Would you be so kind as to fetch a glass of the Chateau De Aegaeon for the esteemed ambassador, and a gin and tonic for me, please?' I sink back into the winged armchair behind my desk with a sigh.
'At once m'lord.' She curtsies again and ducks out of the room.
I turn my gaze back to the ambassador, who's jaw is clenched in what I can only assume to be seething anger. 'Was that a slave?' He growls through gritted teeth.
'Ambassador, "was she a slave?" Just because she is a slave, doesn't make her less than human. I would think, as a Federal official, you could make that distinction. And in answer to your question, yes, she is. Bought her, oh, six months ago, was it? Best purchase I've made in years. My parents love her. I'll be sad when her term is up, but that's the nature of things, isn't it?' I give the Ambassador the most shit eating sardonic smile I could muster. It was always so easy to wind up Feds; just dangle a slave in front of them and watch the indignant sparks fly.
'M'lord? Your drinks.'
'Ah!' I pull my gaze from the Ambassador and fix my eyes on Meredith, who is balancing a silver tray in one hand. 'Wonderful, thank you dear. Put them on the table, that's a good girl.' Meredith strides over to my desk and sets the drink tray down, careful not to jostle the crystal glasses resting on top of it. 'I was just telling the ambassador about you.'
She regards the Ambassador with a polite expression and inclines her head to him. 'Only good things, I hope?'
'Of course! What else is there?' I say, reaching for my glass. 'How is your mother, by the way? Doing better, I hope?'
'Much better m'lord, thank you for asking. The doctors say she should be feeling better by next week'
'Excellent. I'm glad to hear it. Now, me and the ambassador have business to discuss. Shut the door on your way out.' Meredith curtsies one last time and starts walking out. 'Oh, and Meredith, tell Trevor and Calpurnia that you all have the rest of the day off. Enjoy yourselves.'
'Thank you m'lord' She smiles again, and sweeps out of the room, shutting the door behind her with a metallic hiss.
The ambassador glares at the door, as if offended at the very idea of a slave acting so cheerful. He probably expected her to be hollow eyed and harrowed like some Kumo Crew marked slave. I scoff and take a sip of gin, marveling at how predicable this Fed is.
'Now, ambassador, what can I help you with?'
He gives a slight start, and turns his head back towards me. He is silent for a moment, as if trying to remember what he had to say. I stare at him expectantly, taking another sip of gin.
Once he has gathered his thoughts, the haughty expressing and cold demeanor return. 'I am here on behalf of president Hudson to formally request your Legion cease its support of the seditious group known as "the Pegasi Coalition." The group operates within sovereign Federation space, and the Empire has no place meddling in the sector. Furthermore, the group has expressed secessionist sentiments, and the President has deemed Imperial involvement with the group to be hostile and malicious.'
'Straight to business then? You're done with the pleasantries, are you? Well, allow me to oblige you; I'll take your request into consideration. You may go, ambassador' I turn to my console and switch it back on, the glow of the holo-screen bathing my face in sterile blue light.
The ambassador splutters, obviously incredulous at my snub. 'Mr. Fox, I...'
'Praetor.'
'Excuse me?'
'My title: it's Praetor. I have afforded you the respect of calling you by your title and taking the time out of my schedule to listen to your ridiculous request. Please, afford me the respect of at least using my title. It's the least you can do.'
The ambassador jumps to his feet, his face slowly turning purple, a vein pulsing in his temple. 'Praetor Fox, I did not fly all the way here to be insulted and ignored!'
'Fly all the way here?' I snort, eyes straying back to him. 'You flew here on a ship owned by the Legion, with fuel payed for by the Legion, escorted by Legionnaires who could be protecting the citizens your government refuses to help, drink my wine, deliver veiled threats, and you talk about being insulted?'
'Well I never...'
'And another thing, why should we stop supporting to Coalition? You people refuse to protect them from that scourge Delaine, while still collecting taxes from them. I'm sure your heartfelt moral support and wellwishes are a great comfort when their children are kidnapped and their wives are raped. The Empire is at war, Ambassador, fighting the enemy you refuse to acknowledge. We are protecting your citizens; and you would have us, what, abandon them to their fates? Allow the Crew free reign on your people?
'My brothers and sisters have bled and died for the citizens of the Pegasi sector, while your president sits idly by, watching the carnage from Sol. Maybe he can live with that, but neither the Emperor, long may she reign, nor the Legion, will allow this to continue. If Hudson cares so much about the Pegasi Sector, tell him to send a fleet to defend it; maybe then the Coalition wouldn't hate you all so much.' I find myself on my feet, clenching the edge of my desk with white knuckles. A vein of my own pulses in my temple, and my teeth are bared in a snarl. My coat hangs open, the butt of a rail-pistol protrudes from its holster beneath my arm. I catch him looking at it, recoiling as if I was going to pull it on him.
I take a calming breath and another sip of gin. 'In short, ambassador, we will cease our support of the Coalition when they no longer require our assistance. Now, if there is no further business to discuss, kindly get the hell out of my office'
He spins on his heel, face positively livid now, and stomps towards the door.
'Oh, and ambassador?' He pauses, hand on the doornob, but doesn't turn back. 'You'll have to secure alternate transport off world; the vessel you took has been... re-assigned.'