Commander Rainier’s slate blue eyes looked out over the ocean. Somewhere beyond these seas there were others. The Trioni had welcomed him. Time had a way of erasing old hurts and lionizing memories. The old agreements were not quite suitable, but the partnership was in good form. They would face peace or war together.
But what about these other nations? Even he wasn’t sure what had happened in the coalition. Hours later he was aboard the first plane to leave Coalition airspace in quite some time. Last records indicated that the regional capital lay north.
Lucifer had had a rather bad day, the soldiers were aiding their former masters and some upstart news woman had accused the Cylons of engineering the Nekomimi flu to erradicate the human race to allow a Cylon and Pack army to easily conquor the region, Lucifer Hated Uppity Media, however, he had one ray of light, had the disease not grounded most of the region it would most likely have been missed, a tiny radar dot leaving the Wachovian terratories, this pleased Lucifer, “The Children of Kreft stir, a good sign indeed” he intoned to no one in particular,
The old Cylon held a warm place in his Central core for the Wachovians, long viewed as some of the wisest of the east, Wachovian wisdom had stoped many incidents from escalating, Perhaps now even they could help.
The aging orbital jet touched down with a few more creaks than the pilot would have like. “We really need to work on that,” he thought aloud. “Yes, we do,” Rainier said from the cabin door. The pilot sat up straight. “I apologize, commander!” “The old girl has seen quite a few flights. It’s understood, pilot. Let’s get to the assigned hanger.”
A few hours later, a car had been arranged and Commander Rainier and his tense aides found themselves traveling in a plain black car to the offices of the regional government. It was a risk traveling with so little preparation, but an unavoidable one for a people so long disconnected.
As Rainier stepped out onto the steps of the main regional offices, he frowned. People with masks were everywhere. He had best enter the offices and find an official contact quickly. There was apparently much to learn.
Commander Rainier was restless. It was difficult to piece details together, but it appeared that a growing conflict in the southeast, a spreading epidemic and the resignation of the regional delegate had put the regional offices into disarray. Even minor officials were reluctant to meet with him and that was troubling.
“Commander, perhaps we’re taking the wrong tact,” an aide said, breaking him from a moment of thought. “Perhaps we need to travel to embassy row and make a national contact. There are a few nations that appear to be unengaged in the present crises.” “Very well, let’s make sure we complete these forms and then we’ll call for the car. And make sure all staff use the nose respirators from here on out. I don’t know what we are facing here.”
As the Wachovian group was preparing to leave, a small boy wearing a surgical mask ran up, and tapped one of the aides on the shoulder. “Excuse me, mister. Are you the Wachovian here to speak to…um…” He thought for a moment. “Shoot, I forgot. But, you are from Wachovia?”
The Dovakhanese Delegate’s Chief of Staff had heard about the visitors over his lunch break and ventured out onto the pier to greet them.
«Good day, I’m the Yâköb Mâlâh, chief of staff for the Dovakhanese Confederal Delegate, how do you do?» he said with a face covered up in a sanitary mask.
The boy smiled, nodding happily. “Good, good.” He pointed towards a door down the hall. “The Grand Ve…er…Vis…no, no…” He trailed off, lost. “Grand Viser.” He said slowly, after a few seconds. “Yes, the Grand Viser wanted to speak with you.”
“Commander, it appears that we were wrong in our haste.” The group turned and returned to where the aide, the young boy and the obviously important official stood. As they approached, Commander Rainier stepped forward. “You’ll need forgive my lack of what must be common courtesy here, but I am new to current policy in the region. Could I ask who each of you are?”
Inside the makeshift Dannistrian embassy in Rillanon, the staff looked out the windows on hearing some fuss outside.
“Who are they?” asked one of the workers.
“No idea,” said another.
As the workers murmured in excitment, the Dannistrian Ambassador checked his computer link with the mainland.
“>SRCH WACHOVIA
NAME: WACHOVIA COALITION
POPULATION: AROUND 1.695 BILLION
FURTHER INFORMATION: CHECK NSWIKI
UNAVAILABLE AT THIS TIME”
“Unknown? This is interesting…they have been around as a nation longer than us and yet we don’t know much about them except what is in the NSWiki reference?” the ambassador thought. He mulled over meeting the Wachovian representatives before deciding not to for now and instead watching what they do.
OOC: Just assuming Loop will insert his Lizard post.
lol, and not so surreal, Wachovia. With much of the staffers sick or stuck in their home nations, and local authorities tied up dealing with breakouts on Christie Island, the government’s resorted to using East Pacific Scouts for…well, anything the few people left can’t do themselves.
IC:
As the lizard finished speaking, the boy spoke up, a little more quietly then before (as he was obviously not used to having such important people around). “East Pacific Scout 3rd Class Danny Chrislen.” He stated.
As the Wachovians looked around, they suddenly noted that a number of such children were walking around and working in the building, with only a small number of adults in sight.
An aide smiled politely at the boy and the representative. “Perhaps Commander we can all adjourn to the Grand Vizier’s office together. It would appear it is unsafe to breath this air for too long a time.” Rainier nodded. “Of course, if you would join us… sir. I would be most pleased.”
The boy nodded. “Right this way, sirs.” Turning, he half-walked, half-skipped down the large hallway. About halfway down, he turned, and forced open two large doors, above which the words Regional Cabinet were emblazoned.
Walking through the doors, the child lead the group down to the end of the hall, to a doorway above which the words Grand Vizier were stenciled. Opening the large doors again, he lead the group into a pink outer office, in which a middle-aged woman was sitting.
"Um…the Grand Viser wanted to see them?’
The woman laughed. “Grand Vizier.”
The kid shrugged. “Whatever.”
Shaking her head, the woman motioned to the door to the inner-office. “Go ahead in. And grab a donut, if you like.” She motioned to the numerous boxes of krispy kremes. “Their quite good.”
The Wachovian delegation sniffed at the confections, trying to hide their disdain. “We thank you,” a trailing aide said with a smile as they entered the office, “certainly any fruit you have would be most appreciated, but we will suffice with water.”
Like the outer office, the inner office was painted pink, although a number of paint cans along the far wall seemed to indicate the Grand Vizier planned to change that fact. In the center of the room sat a large, Oak Desk, around which a number of chairs had been placed. Against the far wall (next to the paint cans) was a small couch.
As the Wachovians entered, a quite average-looking man behind the large oak desk stood, reaching over the computer, printer/fax machine/copier, hundreds of paper, and several emptied coffee cups to offer his hand to the group. “Welcome back to Rillanon, gentlemen. Mark Belheze, Grand Vizier. I will say, it’s a pleasure to have you back.”
Commander Rainier smiled and shook the Vizier’s hand with a small bow. “It is a welcome honor to be received by you in what appears to be a time of great crisis. I am Commander Rainier, Commander of the Wachovian Black Guard and Governor of the Pacifican Lands of the Wachovia Coalition. I do not know if my predecessors had opportunity to speak with you, but I have certainly not had the pleasure yet.”
“I did meet Commander Kreft once, long ago.” Mark replied, motioning for the group of Wachovians and those that had accompanied them to have a seat in what appeared to be newly repainted chairs. “But I’m afraid I never did get to meet Commander Rosado. For the most part, I merely served as an advisor to the Delegate, a responsibility that rarely required me to meet with governmental leaders.”
Taking a seat himself, Mark sighed. “You’ll have to excuse the settings. The ‘apparent crisis’ you mentioned is a flue epidemic thats struck the region. It’s left us greatly overstaffed…to the point where we’ve been forced to use boy scouts for the less important work…and those of us that are here have been working for twenty hours straight.”
Taking a breath, Mark smiled. “But, nothing is of more importance then meeting with the leader of a nation…especially one that has so dropped from the world stage. If I might ask, Commander, exactly what happened? And what brings you back now?”
“It is…,” Rainier paused, “a subject we are not entirely clear on ourselves. The Great Exodus, as our people are prone to call it, occurred according to the myth of our peoples, but many of the guard as myself were not among those who disappeared.”
An aide spoke up in a low tone. “It is, if you will pardon me saying this, a matter of some discomfort for us to discuss. It is felt something of a discomfort to suddenly lose so many under our protection. And so now we wait…”
“And continue our duty,” Rainier resumed, “Our duty to safeguard our people’s lands and the region in hope that one day they will return. So we come to you seeing what small ways we may aide the peoples of other lands.”