@ForsythePaardveidWeyss' face met his hands. It was all he could do to stop himself crying. Another meeting, met with complete failure. He thought that some members of the council would pull their heads out their arses long enough to focus on the major issues at hand, but apparently not. This happened every time.
“... that endangers everything the Faith stands for...”
Moments like this made Weyss want to hang it all and convert to a conventional Monarchy. A boy his age shouldn't have to sit through this drivel. No Theocrats. No Republicans. No Council.
“... but it has been your 'church' that caused this issue in the first place ...”
It all started a few months ago. Weyss had called a meeting between himself and the five Councillors. A probe had returned positive, and he had been looking for some advice on how to handle the situation. Do they attack, send a diplomat or ignore the new life-form entirely? Three options should not spark this much animosity.
The Head Inquisitor, Temair, demanded a full-blown invasion. The probe showed signs that these beings were intelligent and had established a fully-operational method of governance on their own. That, of course, meant they weren't Konjan. The Stewardess had agreed, presumably to curry Temair's favour.
The Marshal was unhappy with this, and had told Temair to wait until they had sent an ambassador before declaring war. Normally, the Inquisitor would brush it off and launch a Crusade with Republican backing, but tensions between Republicans and Theocrats had been rising lately, and a civil war was not a part of her agenda. Vigdis was keen on diplomacy before war, and she was at least as hot-headed as Temair. The result was a potentially civil meeting devolved into a common shouting match.
First, Weyss tried to calm things down. Then he tried to shelf the issue until later. But talks always went in circles, and he was put into the position he is in now – begging silently for both sides to shut up.
“ Allowing these heathens to continue their evil ways could …”
“We should not...”
He was on the edge of a meltdown. If he left right now, these four would never notice, they were that caught up. They weren't even listening to each other anymore.
Wait, four?
Asta, Gydja, Vigdis, Temair. Where was Innes? She wasn't in her seat. He had kind of forgotten about her, since whenever the yelling started, she just started scribbling in her journal. She hadn't said much, which was odd – as Chancellor, it was her job to manage ambassadors, so this was her department they were arguing about.
If it was anyone else, he would have ignored it. But this was Innes they were talking about. Innes was not the kind of girl who'd skip out on a meeting, even if it wasn't a particularly important one.
Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her in a while. He thought he'd notice if the wall-eyed, always staring, twitchy-smiling, two-steps-from-broken chancellor went missing, but now he couldn't remember when he'd last seen her.
“Girls, where is Innes?”
No reaction. They were so caught up in their respective rants, they didn't hear him.
“Girls, has anyone seen Innes?” he repeated testily. Still no response.
By Satan's whiskers, did no-one listen to him? An issue as important as a missing Councillor should be top priority. But no, instead of worrying over the mysteriously vanishing girl, they fought over basic humanistic tolerance.
In anger, the Patriarch slammed his hands down on the table, causing the assembled council to jump,“ LADIES, has ANYONE seen Chancellor bloody INNES!?”
Then, silence. Temair's zeal died in her throat. Vigdis stopped her rant. Even the Marshal looked perturbed. They didn't know either, it seemed. Only Gydja looked unworried.
“Innes? She left Paardveid a few days ago. Something about not being able to cope with the noise.”
If looks could kill, Gydja would have withered up there and then. Metaphorical ice swept through the room. Everyone froze up, waiting for Weyss' next words. No one had been quite so scared in their life.
He managed two “How long?”
“About eight days, m-m'lord” The Stewardess couldn't meet his gaze
“And where, pray tell, did she say she was headed?” His voice was tranquil, gentle, even. But there was a fury behind those words that Gydja couldn't help but pick up on.
“I think she was going outside the Republic...”
Quite far away from PaardveidTo her credit, Innes had gone through standard procedure. She had logged her destination, officially requested permission to leave and had left instructions on what to do in her absence. Of course, being the Chancellor meant all this data was handled by her, so all she had to do was approve herself and keep the notes somewhere safe and she could claim she left legitimately. She had even denied herself twice before she let herself go. And she had taken an armed guard – five of them. They were sharing the same shuttle. To her, she had done everything right. She even told Gydja she was going.
Innes was something of a waif. Unlike most others of her race, she was small and scrawny, with big eyes and an air of innocence that made those unfamiliar with her want to squeal with glee. Indeed, physically Innes was a very pretty and cute girl. She had big, soft eyes, a delicate mouth that twitched with the urge to smile, and an overall smooth and well-made face. But not everyone is perfect. Though her body
should have been curvaceous and strong, her rump was really the only area with any definition. Everywhere else was racked with skin that hung tightly to her bones that she normally took care to hide. However, in these skintight jumpsuits, everything was on display, bones and all. Most un-Sinnsyk of all was her almost flat chest. In a society where women mostly had large and impressive busts, Innes' condition was seen as something of a handicap and never failed to supply humour to the more cruel of her peers.
The purpose of her visit was to talk to the foreigners, get a measure of what they are like, then take her findings back so the others can make a rational decision about their fate in correlation to the Republic. Well, that and it meant she didn't have to listen to any more arguing.
For most of the journey, she lay in the bed in her room, sketching in her diary. She was seriously regretting her decision. There were a million things that could go wrong – she could say the wrong thing, accidentally offend someone important, accidentally commit a crime. She decided to wear her jumpsuit for this – though skin-tight and simple, it covered ever part of her except her hands and head and could hardly be seen as either threatening or offensive.
She had done it all a million times. She practised whenever she could, determining what questions she should ask, what things she should say, how to introduce herself. Yet she was wondering if she could do it. Prior to this, her missions were either suppressing local dissidents or communicating with foreign tribes.
That made her think – what was she actually doing here? What was the mission? She told herself it was to compile an accurate report on the locals, but she didn't even know where to start. Did she just walk into a town, introduce herself and tell everyone to carry on as usual? Or did she go to a noble house and request hospitality? And could she get back safely?
And then it came into sight.
“Captain?” Innes asked the pilot “Did intelligence say it was definitely a planet?”
Everyone was thinking the same thing. That was not a planet. That was a bloody battle fleet. It did not look at all friendly, with its red and grey exterior and flat, slab-like adornments.
“Is it a good idea to keep going?” The pilot wondered
“Maybe they haven't noticed us yet.” Another soldier offered.
“Right. Captain, prepare to -” they were interrupted by the radio crackling. It was a primitive system, barely functional, but it worked over short ranges. When it was squawking like it did now, someone with superior tech had found their frequency.
Innes ran to answer it “Hello? This is Chancellor Innes of the Paardveid Republic. Requesting permission to board?”
Her heart was racing. Aliens! Real aliens! The probes had confirmed they exist, but she was actually going to meet them face-to-face! It was terrifying, yet amazing. What if they were friendly? What if they were hostile? Were they socialist, republican, theocratic, monarchic? What would they make of her? What about her soldiers? Did they like females? Did they like males? The questions swarmed her head like flies over honey.
“Just take it one step at a time, Innes. First, we have to meet them...”
