Diplomatic Talk (Piett)

[Tiberius Anar]

The monsoon season had come to Thyferra. On a planet with such a humid climate, rain was to be expected, but it never ceased to amaze Tiberius Anar just how much of it there was. It ran down the windows of his office, turning the world beyond them into a distorted mess of shapes and colours that mingled together like the paints in a child's picture.

He could just discern the shape of the limosine below, a sleek black vehicle used by the government. Had it been a clear day he would have been able to see the diplomatic penants on the fender, but he did not need those to identify it.

He knew whose car it was. He knew why they were here. After all he had arranged the meeting. A simple note delivered by a Foreign Ministry messenger, mention of "matters of mutual interest" and of the need for "direct communication". A equally simple note delivered to him yesterday told him that the Ambassador would come.

Anar stood and waited, his back to the door, his eyes fixed on the limosine below. Waiting to talk.

[Sean Piett]

Scruff, scruff.

The Ambassador drug his feet backwards on an entryway rug, drying his soles before stepping into the long tiled entryway.

Squeeksqueeksqueek, clickclick..

His first few steps were, nonetheless, wet and screeching. He ignored the shrill squeeks, and soon they had tweened into the crisp clicks of a tapdancer.

A Sovereignty official looked up from behind a reception desk and turned to murmur a few words to a guard there. Moving quickly, he went to intercept and direct Sean Piett to the Chancellor's office. The Admiral walked with a slow, deliberate step. He excersized a certain lightness with his left foor, which he could feel starting to bleed inside of its bactapatch.

Four red lines stretched down one side of his face, wounds reforming into scars.

It took some several minutes for the two to reach the Chancellor's office, and the guide often had to check his speed to slow down. Piett looked around himself little as he moved, but made specific note of his surroundings- of exits, doors, windows, guards. As they neared Anar, the traffic in the hall thinned dramatically, until they found themselves almost alone. A few guards remained, and Piett knew that for each that he saw, a dozen were on the ready to spring out of dusty corners and desk drawers.

"Forgive me," were the guide's first words to Sean. He motioned for Piett to stop. "I will tell the Chancellor you are here, sir."

"I'm sure he knows."

The guide nodded and moved forward, leaving Piett a bare few meters from the door to Anar's office.

[Tiberius Anar]

The intercomn buzzed. Anar did not need to answer it, since the nature of the call was obvious, but he reached over to touch the appropriate switch.

"Amabassador Piett has arrive, Your Excellency. Shall I show through?" The voice of Quintus Varro, Private Secretary to the Channcellor, emenated from the speaker.

"Yes," said Anar clicking off.

He took the time he had left to ready himself for the meeting. He tugged his cuffs down a little and brushed some imaginary speck of dust from his black suit jacket. Then he turned back to the window. No need to seem too eager to see the Ambassador, he thought.

***

Varro meanwhile had gone into the waiting area where Piett was, under the tender care of a junior official. He dismissed the gitl with a wave of his hand.

"Amassador. If you would follow me, His Excellency will see you now."

Varro moved towards the double doors, flanked by their plain clothes guards. With well practiced and elegant movements he opened them and led the way through into the Outer Office.

They passed through the Outer Office with its busy secretaries and aides. Varro paused to knock on the next set of doors. Then, without waiting for acknowledgement he swung them open.

"Ambassador Piet of the Imperial Federacy, Your Excellency," he announced.

[Sean Piett]

Piett addressed Tiberius with a smooth nod and a word, "Chancellor."

He stepped into the room without looking around and appraising it. He knew its worth. Whether it was extravagant or elegant or simple or impeccable or chaotic.. none of that meant anything to Piett, analyst though he was. He seemed.. distant. Out of touch.

Looking lazily through his unstyled hair, the Admiral greeted Anar visually. Without waitng for so much as a gesture to the chair opposite Tiberius, Piett sat and wound his fingers in front of himself.

"Forgive my abruptness, but the Sovereignty has had little interest in me or my shuttle. All we've done is orbit and orbit. I haven't been asked to visit with so much as an Admiral for some time, and here I find myself in your office.

"Why?"

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar had turned to greet the Ambassador, expecting to go through the usual diplomatic nicities. He was a little put out by Piett's abruptness, it had certainly lost him the initiative. He needed time to come up with a way of regaining control of the situation.

His ice blue eyes came to rest upon Varro. His Private Secretary had taken a seat by the door, from which to observe the discussions. Perfect "You may go, Quintus."

The civil servant looked as if he might protest at such a casual dismissal. But he went quietly enough and in those five seconds the Chancellor formulated a plan.

Adopting a casual tone of voice he aksed "Drink?". Then he sauntered over to the drinks cabinet. "Scotch? Gin? Brandy? Sherry?" he asked over his shoulder.

[Sean Piett]

"Scotch." Piett had come to Thyferra a more kindly drunk, if anything; now he found himself a bitter and impatient one. "Scotch and answers, in that order."

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar poured two rather generous measures of scotch into crystal tumblers. He turned from the cabinet, but instead of returning to the desk he made for the conversation circle.

As he passed one of the brown leather armchairs he placed a tumbler on the table beside it. It sat there in the pool of light cast by the lamp. The crystal sparkled. Its contents inviting and rich.

He kept the other glass in his hand and sat down facing the vacant chair. He sipped his drink, savouring the taste.

The politician waited for the diplomat to join him.

[Sean Piett]

With a faint limp he found hard to disguise, Piett moved to the circle and sat next to his glass. The chair was firm, and gave little, but it was much to his liking, in terms of comfort. Appearance- well, Piett had different tastes. Every third officer and bureaucrat seemed to adopt some ancient theme. It became an interactive office-friendly collection.

He remembered how scant and utilitarian the Emperor's own quarters had been. But he, too, was a collector.

As was Piett. Most warriors were.

He collected the drink and took a large first sip. For him, the first of everything was always the most wonderful. From there, it was all downhill.

Diminishing marginal utility.

He found little joy in sex, anymore. He no longer cared for torture- as the 'er' or the 'ee'- as he once had. He found wars too long, battles too long, peace too long.

Excess over longevity. A slit throat over torture.

Lifting the crystal, he drank more shallowly, and looked noncommittally at the chancellor.

[Tiberius Anar]

The Chancllor had noticed the limp. Though he did not comment on it He would have to ask the Diplomatic Protection Agency about that. It would be undiplomatic to ask the man himself.

Having established some degree of control over the conversation, Anar felt it was worth giving Piett something.

"I have asked you here to discuss matters of some importance," he sipped his drink, "Your position for one."

[Sean Piett]

After the second sip, the Ambassador set down the glass next to him. He wondered vaguely if he was to be removed from Sovereignty space, or imprisoned. How exciting! he thought. No, how boring, he amended.

"My position?" he started. "I have held many positions, Chancellor, as I'm sure you are aware. I have breathed the thin air at the top, in the Emperor's own private circle, in the council of Grand Admirals, in the Imperial Nexus. I have been a Sith. But my power waned and waxed with that of whatever faction I followed, and now I am hardly the galactic player I was. An Admiral, and Ambassador, and a bored, dwindling force user. You don't care," he marked, "But this tired legacy is all I have left. Please, continue, and tell me which positon I hold that you wish to speak on."

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar smiled, "All of us wear many hats. I for one count six different positions that I hold at the moment. But that is not important.

"I am speaking of your position as Ambassador. You have been in Sovereignty Space for some time now and, as you say, have had little to do. I would like to change that."

He paused to see if this might catch Piett's interest. His ice blue eyes were fixed upon the other, watching for any sign.

[Sean Piett]

Quirking a brow, Piett wondered at this last statement. He wondered what the Chancellor would use him for. Most matters of trade and profit went past him to an Administrator on Delteon- he cared too little for small matters like that. It lleft little need for any effort on Piett's part- the Federacy was isolationist enough to only sparingly need his efforts on Thyferra.

The Admiral found himself wondering why he'd asked for this position, when he could be much more productive widening and holding tje Federacy, organizing and designing and conducting a war.

The prospect of some passtime grabbed him.

So, should he ask WHY or HOW?

"And," he prefixed, "How would you like to do that?"

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar noted that the question was "how?", not "why?". Not what he had expected. He took a moment to adjust his answer.

"I would like you to have an establishment here in Xucphra City- a proper embassy from which to work. You can bring in a staff to help you with routine business. And you will be able to meet with myself and my ministers on a regular basis. I would gaurantee that as a right."

[Sean Piett]

While he found himself taken aback by this gestrure, it wasn't entirely surprising to the Admiral. There could be any number of motivations behind the motion, but it could be beneficial, regardless.

"I think an embassy on this fine Thyferran earth would do much to please the Imperator, and enrich relations between us all. An old hand gets tired of the ship, of orbits and course changes," he said, speaking for himself alone. The most successful officers, he knew, made a home of space, grew a certain fondness and closeness of and with it. But Piett had never embraced anything close to him; not a fleet, not an army, not the Force. Only the Emperor and his New Order.

"I much enjoy the concept. . . But before all else, I am concerned for the Federacy's security, and her privacy. It's my military nature. Can this Embassy act, for all purposes, as an extension of the Federacy? Can I stock it with a Federacy guard and hide in it Federacy secrets? It would be no stronghold, you know, but an umbrella from more.. inquisitive Imperials."

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar had know that this would come up. He knew that there were those who would be uncomfortable with the idea of an outpost of the Federacy in the capital. But it was a diplomatic convention- so how could he or they argue?

"The Embassy and its grounds would be, to all intents and purposes, Federacy soil. Obviously you would be entitled to bring in guards to protect that soil. I would be unhappy if you brought in an entire battalion to guard it," he laughed gently, "but a reasonable number of guards would be acceptable."

[Sean Piett]

"Of course," Piett replied. "Forgive me if I sound greedy; my first perogative here in the Sovereignty is to ensure the Federacy's security."

[Tiberius Anar]

"An admirable objective, and one I can well understand," said Anar with a nod, "Which is rather why I want you on the surface. Your objectives and mine can be better achieved if we are in closer contact."

[Sean Piett]

"Absolutely. Well, we can work out particulars later." Piett clasped his hands in front of him. "Though I'm quite excited," he added.

He looked around the room breifly, disinterested. "Well, if there wasn't anything else.." his voice trailed off.

[Tiberius Anar]

That rather inelegant dangle told Anar that the Ambassador had some idea that this meeting was about more than embassies and secuirty. It was also one that forced Anar to be inelegant, too.

"Well there is one other matter: Bestine."