Diplomatic Protocol

[Adonis Inirial]

Adonis stifled a yawn with a hand, a gesture that quickly progressed in his fingers being smeared across his tired features. It was early - early enough that while his first steaming mug of caf for the day had stopped steaming, the half-finished remnants hadn't yet been neglected long enough to become cringe-inducingly cold. Despite the early hour however, Commander Inirial's work day was already in full swing, the stack of datafiles and intelligence reports that had accumulated over the eight hours that he'd allowed himself to sleep already reduced by at least a third.

This was what life had become for the intelligence officer, since he'd arrived on Jovan Station. While the Inspector was attentive for anything that posed a threat to the safety and security of the station, Adonis' responsibility cast a far wider net. Ships arriving on the station were scrutinised to safeguard against smuggled and illegal cargo making it's way onto the station, but Adonis had to consider more than that, ensuring that once the ships left, their manifest didn't contain anything that wasn't permitted on the worlds they were headed to next, for legal, political, religious, ecological, or any other grounds. He had to scrutinise any persons of interest, evaluating them not as a potential threat to the station, but to the Alliance at large, rooting out potential Imperial informants; the agents of the organised crime cartels; criminals with crimes against specific worlds whose deeds might not be recorded in the central databases, or who might be attempting to flee from crimes against the Empire; stolen vessels with suspect idents; tactical reports from patrols along a few hundred lightyears or so of Imperial border -

Adonis frowned, and twisted his head, as if that would somehow alter his interpretation of what was on the datapad in front of him. There was something familiar about that ident code, a prefix that didn't quite match up with the construction origin and star class of the vessel carrying it. A quick check against his data terminal confirmed it. A Nubian ship, but the ident was all wrong - didn't match up with the registry conventions for ships originating in the Corellian Sector. It was a weird jumble, as if someone had taken an Alliance diplomatic code, and steered into a head-on collision with a Zeltron registry -

The Commander's eyes widened. A few aggressive keystrokes, and his worst suspicions were confirmed. The names may not have matched, but that didn't matter: there was only one person he knew of with that class of ship, ties to Zetros, and a reason to be using Alliance diplomatic idents.

Within an instant Adonis was off at a run, bursting from the small office that had been set aside for him and hurtling off down the corridors. Collisions with unexpected sleepy officers and crewmen were narrowly avoided by white-knuckle last-minute course corrections, corners taken at full speed, turbolift doors narrowly squeezed through while they were still in the process of closing. Safely inside, he allowed himself a moment to heave in a few desperate breaths, his gaze drawn to the somewhat perturbed technician staring at him from beside the lift controls. "Zeltron Ambassador," Adonis panted out. "Fake name. Incognito probably. Didn't know. No warning. Haven't prepared -"

The technician blinked at him with a vast pair of Nautolan eyes, rephrasing the query that Adonis hadn't even noticed he'd asked. "You'll be wantin' one a' de dockin' pylons den, mon?"

An emphatic nod slowly decelerated into a more controlled pace, and Adonis managed to unfold himself from where his burning lungs had doubled him over. "Landing Bay Six," he requested, slumping back against the wall of the lift pod as the technician punched in his destination. An awkward silence descended as Adonis and the technician stood there, rocking slightly as the turbolift nudged it's way into motion. It took a few moments of Adonis casting his eyes around the car before he realised he was being stared at. He flashed a smile. "I'm Commander Inirial," he explained. "Intelligence Officer. Kinda new."

The Nautolan's brow arched. "Y' kinda sometin' alright, dat be f' sure," the technician muttered back, as a hiss from the braking mechanism warned them of the impending halt. Grabbing the toolkit from the ground beside him, he stepped his way out through the doors as they opened, slowly shaking his head.


* * *

Adonis smoothed down the front of his uniform as he walked towards the entrance to the landing bay at a more respectable pace this time. A flash of inspiration had struck him as he found himself alone in the turbolift, and he'd put in a request to Operations to delay the arriving transport by just a few moments. They'd already been waiting in a holding pattern until a clear path was available to their designated bay - what harm was a few extra to buy Adonis enough time to comfortably arrive.

Positioning himself in the perfect spot - not blocking the the entrance to the bay per se, but certainly making himself an imposing and noticeable figure in front of it. For a moment his hands clasped behind his back, but the instant a pink face and a pair of glasses came into view his mind reconsidered, arms folded sternly across his chest instead.

"Ambassador Faei," he uttered, his voice conveying the same tone as his arms. "No one told us to expect your arrival."

[Silas Faei]

"Oh Adonis, don't you know by now to expect the unexpected? Haven't I taught you better? No? No matter, you'll catch on eventually." Quick spoken rhetoric and a flurry of waving a hand as if to swat an annoying insect were Silas' first words aboard Jovan Station.

Well, if he could technically be considered to be on board at that point. He didn't think too much about that sort of thing, it wasn't important, wasn't worth it. Semantics were for people like... whatever his rank was nowadays Inirial. Man was infuriating for a multitude of reasons and most of it had to do with the fact that Silas was fairly certain he could use a good trip to the Zeltron's home planet. Maybe some time spent with one of the Ambassador's cousins, not the idiotic ones, but one of the smart ones, the pretty ones that could loosen up those squared shoulders of his.

Stepping forward, Silas cast an appraising eye at the rather bland walls that made up the landing bay. There wasn't anything inherently wrong with them, or the station itself for that matter from what he could see on his approach, but it just needed some livening up. The whole Alliance did, for that matter. Peace time was supposed to mean enjoyment, not stifled drudgery.

"So, what do I call you nowadays? I'm sure you coming here earned a nice promotion? Maybe you can buy me a drink at the finest your fancy station has to offer. Had to get away, you see. Bothawui is just so..." his voice trailed before an over dramatic sigh left. "Well, it's Bothawui."

[Adonis Inirial]

Oh how wonderful. The Ambassador to the Alliance of Free Planets from one of it's major outside trading partners had come here to the precarious frontier of Alliance space, because he was bored. This was the level of diplomacy in the Alliance, apparently. This was the kind of man that Zeltros thought was appropriate to liaise with a government of the Alliance's scale and prestige - not all that praiseworthy a reflection in the grand scheme of things.

"It's still just Commander," Adonis countered, with the faintest hint of a sigh, trying his utmost not to rise to the Ambassador's bait. It was the game that they played, one that Adonis had been involuntarily drafted into: Adonis would try to do his job to the best of his ability, and Faei would do his utmost to make that experience as difficult and miserable as possible. It had begun back before the Alliance was even a government, back when the Rebellion was trying to court Zeltros - and more importantly, Faei's family - as a potential ally against the Empire; it had continued when Silas was appointed the Ambassador to the Free Planets and Adonis had become the designated intelligence officer liaising with the various extra-Alliance diplomats, at the kind suggestion of Admiral Tyree; and apparently it had followed him all the way here.

There was no escape.

There was no hope.

"And you should know by now: I have absolutely no problem coping with unforeseen circumstances." His eyes narrowed. "It's the unwanted annoyances that I have an issue with."

[Silas Faei]

"So cruel," Silas chided. "I haven't even done anything yet and you already talk this way. I'm afraid this type of reception may have to be logged into my next report: Lord Inirial had told me I am annoying, how insulting to me and my people. I shant be recommending the station to anyone. No, no, I think we will have to rethink this entire association. Can't be dealing with such hostile forces, now can we? Us Zeltrons have a reputation to maintain. After all, what if this had been some sort of surprise inspection?"

The Ambassador managed a few moments of almost seriousness, his little rant characterized by sighs and looks of disappointment. It didn't take long, however, until the grin reformed on his features and he quickly clasped hands with Adonis, giving him a quick slap on the shoulder for good measure. Silas was tempted to hug the man, he'd done it a few times after all and loved watching the way it made him uncomfortable - though somehow less each time it happened.

"You really are going to turn into an old curmudgeon without me around, you know that? Almost had me fooled. And please, I'm not quite as ill mannered as some of my family. I do actually have reasons to be here, but we'll get to that later. You and I have some catching up to do first!"

[Adonis Inirial]

"'I've been spending too much time around Admiral Tyree, I guess."

Adonis cracked a small smile of his own, though nowhere near as broad or wholeheartedly enthusiastic as the Ambassadors. It was hard to tell how much was merely years of practiced restraint, and how much of that limitation was directly because of the Ambassador. He did - inexplicably - consider Silas a friend, of a sort. The kind of friend that did everything his power to make it that much harder to do your job, and who insisted on dragging you out to every single petching establishment in the greater Drev'starn area because the meeting room you'd arranged at the Intergalactic Trade Mission wasn't interesting enough; but a friend none the less. Or at least, Adonis had grown accustomed enough to his presence and antics that they weren't entirely enthusiastic anymore.

The kind of way you adapted to chronic pain, or a missing limb.

Adonis let out a small sigh. "One of these days," he half-muttered, though most of the grumble in his voice was for show, "You're going to grasp the concept of people actually having jobs to do, and needing to work during the day. Not all of us get to swagger about from dawn to dusk with total disregard for people's jobs and duties."

There was a small pause, and something almost rueful creeping into his modest smile. "Of course, if you were here in an official capacity, then it'd be my duty as one of the senior Alliance officers aboard to at the very least offer you a tour of the station."

[Silas Faei]

"And you're just entirely put out by that prospect. I'm sure you much rather be..." Silas' voice drifted off as he waved his hand in small circles as if it would generate the words he was looking for. "What is it they make you do here anyway? You know, when not showing about undisciplined Ambassadors?"

He waited for Adonis to take the first step and quickly fell in place beside him. The Ambassador wasn't quite as outlandish as the people he represented. His clothing wasn't nearly garish, opting for something far more akin to fashions worn by young business men in colors just muted enough to be considered respectable by most people. The glasses he wore helped out quite a bit with that as well. They shouldn't have been necessary, not with his family, not with medical means to correct the minor imperfections in his vision, but they had singled him out from his cousins and siblings when younger and the look had just stuck. That and there was just something about lasers being near his eyeballs that Silas had never found to be exactly... trustworthy - even the most steady droid could short circuit occasionally!

Reputable appearance or not, there were some things you just couldn't change, though. Maybe it was for that reason that Silas carried an air of practically owning the place the second they set out. Swagger some called it. Silas just thought it was confidence.

[Adonis Inirial]

"I'm an intelligence officer, Silas," Adonis shot back as he lead the way back towards the heart of the station. For a brief moment, his voice echoed the same suavely sarcastic tone as the Ambassadors. "Though in fairness, intelligence always has been a concept you've struggled with, hasn't it?"

There was no grin, no look, no nothing to indicate that Adonis spoke in jest rather than out of a deliberate intention to cause insult, but he was confident the Zeltron would appreciate the difference. After all, if the two of them went more than half a dozen sentences without a playful insult being tossed in one direction or another, something was likely wrong. To his credit though, Silas actually seemed to be in a particularly un-Silas state. Sensibly dressed, arriving on the station with little or no fanfare - were it not for Adonis' scrutiny of the docking logs, and his familiarity with obscure data, the Ambassador might have gone entirely unnoticed. For a fleeting moment, Adonis allowed himself to hope that this was a sign of change, a new attitude for the persistent annoyance that he had come to tolerate; but perhaps that was taking wishful thinking a little bit too far.

As reward for Silas' uncharacteristic good behaviour, Adonis followed up on his jest with a genuine answer. "There have been a few incidents on Jovan Station since it was brought online. A few tense moments with the Empire, a bit of a fiasco with Cizerack terrorists, reports of more illegal smuggler incursions across the border than Alliance Security is entirely happy with. Mostly though, the joint operation between the Alliance and the Cizerack here is of vital importance as far as long-term cooperation between the races goes, and Admiral Tyree wanted to make sure he kept an eye on this place."

He offered a shrug in the Ambassador's direction. "Since he doesn't have one to spare anymore, he sent me and mine instead."

[Silas Faei]

"Well at least that shows he trusts you," Silas offered with a shrug before a full body shudder seemed to consume him. "I'm still not entirely sure if I got this gig because the monarchy thought I could handle it or if Nan just really wanted me off-world. Probably a bit of both, now that I think of it."

It was a complicated relationship between the Faei family and the current rulers of Zeltros. And by complicated, it meant that the king was boinking one of Silas' dear aunties while one of his uncles held the royal couples' ears. Maybe more. Probably wasn't best to think about it. Rumor was someone in the Family was going to be royalty come next election time, of course that rumor came from the Family so it was hard to tell who was just blowing smoke and where the truth really was. Silas hadn't wanted to get involved in all the political mish mosh when he was younger, but daddy being Governor of the Northern Province put a bullet right in the brain of that.

It wasn't so bad. Not really, anyway. Being Ambassador meant you got to go to interesting places and annoy the hell out of interesting people. At least he had a planet to go home to, though. Not like Inirial or tons other in the Alliance. Oh, they put on their good faces and such, but Silas couldn't help but feel the melancholy that practically oozed off the lot of them. At least this single individual's life he could help brighten.

"That's rough, though. I take it your sister didn't get moved along as well? How's she doing anyway? Should be ready to pop any day now if my math is right."

Silas hadn't met the woman but had heard nothing but doting big brother stuff from Adonis about her. Was cute in a way. Thankfully not one that the Zeltron could relate to. He had cousins a plenty, but siblings? Nope. Spoiled brat was he. Being the lone child of a politician and his wife wasn't all that it might sound like it could be, though. He'd been paraded before more delegates in his youth than Silas could even try and remember. It did have it's perks though...perks he had only begun to appreciate once he stepped into his own. If nothing else he wasn't the kid that had a damn insane asylum on their list of places I lived at. Bad luck, that.

[Adonis Inirial]

"I hope not," Adonis replied, his words pausing for a moment so that he could recall which direction to turn at the next junction, without needing to adjust the pace that he and Silas were walking. He had made a point of memorising the station's layout, and with a mind like his it was a pretty accurate mental reproduction, but there was a difference between knowing where everything was, and being able to autopilot your way from place to place. He still needed to walk the halls, still needed to train his muscles to know where they were going without his brain even needing to be involved.

He guided them around a turn to the left, his eyes settling on a reassuring sign directing him toward the concourse. He hadn't yet managed to steer the conversation towards the true reason for Silas' covert visit, but given what he knew about the Ambassador already, it was a reasonable guess that the place where the shops and the bars were was the only place on a tour of the station that Silas would actually be interested in.

Maybe a brothel. Fortunately, the concourse had one of those too.

"She's still got a little ways to go before my nephew makes an appearance," Adonis continued. Saying that, nephew, hadn't got old just yet. He fought back the smile that usually came with it though for the Ambassador's sake. No need to turn into the obsessive doting uncle before the little tyke was even born. "I'm hoping I'll get enough of a warning that I can take some leave and head back to Bothawui in time for the birth, but -"

He trailed off, a shrug thrown in that made him seem more indifferent about the prospect of missing his nephew's birth than he actually was. Such was The Life though; such were the responsibilities of wearing the uniform and doing your duty for the greater good. He could remember all the birthdays, recitals, competitions, and awards that military life had forced his father to miss. Hopefully his nephew would understand those absences better than he had back then.

He forced a flicker of a rueful smirk onto his lips. "I don't exactly have much say over what and when goes into my sister's nether regions, so I doubt I'll have much control over when things come out."