kvlt
Dixie Fiend
Alby47
Crusader LordSecond collab with @Jeddaven
Word had gotten back to Acadia of contact with Ronto, and Director Xavier Crawford was ecstatic at the notion that a Rontonian delegation’s arrival was not only possible, but imminent. Here, at last, was a golden opportunity to open diplomatic ties with a strong nation in the North. He’d heard rumours of Ronto, and the scant details that had filtered down were impressive. If certain pacts and assurances could be made between them, then The Institute would have gained a powerful friend indeed. But first, they would need to convince Ronto of the potential benefits of such an arrangement.
The Director turned to his every present and capable Gen-3 Synth assistant,
“Are we ready B7?”
“All preparations have been made, Director, I’ll be leaving shortly to greet them.”
“Excellent, inform me when they arrive. And ensure they have a warm welcome…”
-----------------------
Before the war the small Bar Harbor airport had catered to thousands of tourists who arrived on Mount Desert Island every year to have a taste of Maine, but wished to avoid any sort of drive. When The Institute had first arrived here, they’d cleared out much of the debris and rusted out aircraft which had littered the airport, scavenging whatever they could. Afterwards they’d established a sort of forward operating base, which served both as a research camp and a supply depot for expeditions around Mount Desert Island or even to the mainland. Slowly the camp had been built up and many of the pre-war structures around it repaired and repurposed.
With the news of a delegation's arrival here, however, the airport had been a flurry of activity. Hundreds of Synths of every generation had worked round the clock to ensure that the airport was ready in every respect to allow a plane to land here and its passengers to safely disembark. Unsightly ruins had been demolished and replaced with pristine Institute prefabricated modular structures of white and blue, which included a squat traffic control tower topped with a series of satellite dishes and a large fog condenser. Armed Gen-2 and Gen-3 Synths carefully patrolled the fenced-in perimeter of the airport, overseen by a small handful of ever vigilant Coursers.
B7 stood waiting on the freshly repaved tarmac near where the airplane would be directed to park. She wore a stark white dress suit reminiscent of pre-war business attire, with a red vitruvian man badge pinned to her left jacket lapel. A uniformed Gen-2 synth stood directly to her right, holding a thin umbrella which provided her shade from the bright sun overhead. The Rontonian delegation was extremely fortunate in the timing of their arrival: the Fog had abated for the time being leaving the island almost entirely free of the mist aside from the areas of Deep Fog on the western side. The Institute’s Fog condensers normally kept the eastern half clear in any event, but their reach only extended so far, and it was better that it had retreated entirely so as to keep the chances of any incident with the landing to an absolute minimum.
Calm and composed, B7 looked up to the sky as the first sounds of the incoming aircraft could be heard many miles away.
-------
It wasn’t long before the harsh, droning noise of turboprops resolved into something clearly discernable to the synths - the small squadron of approaching aircraft had been communicating with air-traffic control for some time, several shapes transforming from pinpricks to rapidly approaching tubes. One, the largest of the group, dipped its nose down toward the hastily rebuilt airport, distant sunlight shining off of the raised stabilizers at the very top of its tail. Outside of the wasteland, its pristine white interior, marked only by the flag of Ronto, would’ve been an unusual sight - but the sheer scarcity of aircraft in the wasteland made its cleanliness and gull-wings seem even more unusual by comparison. One by one, more noises joined the first, but rather than preparing to land, they simply sped past the airfield without a care.
Twin-engined shadows briefly blotted out the sun, Maple Leaf roundels the only distinct features - aside from pairs of gunpods - visible on the undersides. Wasting no time, one after the other, the fighter escorts zoomed by, off to the ocean, only to quickly begin slow, sloping turns in v-shaped formation, back toward Canadian territory.
The largest aircraft, though, continued on its gentle slope toward the landing strip, slowing to a practical crawl barely faster than pre-war cars on the highway.
Halfway down the runway from where B7 stood, the plane touched down, nose pulling gently upward mere moments before impact. It rolled forward for a fraction of a second before the nose gear, too, touched down - and then continued to roll down the runway, onto the taxiway, before finally coming to a stop a couple handfuls of meters from B7, enough distance to avoid striking her with propwash.
The exit door toward the cockpit swung downward, a set of metal stairs extending toward the apron.
One-by-one, guards in the same red, steson-capped uniforms B7 had seen in that tiny frontier town marched down the steps, filing off to either side until they formed two lines six abreast, one deep, standing at attention.
Soon after, a fair-skinned middle-aged man clad in a black suit emerged from the aircraft, marching down the steps after the officers. Two moved into place in front of her, though he was quickly followed by another person - a slightly younger woman of a darker, wheatish skin tone dressed in a navy blue pantsuit.
Followed by their pistol-armed guards, they made their way toward B7, while the pilot and copilot of the aircraft meticulously checked over instruments in the cockpit.
“I trust I have the pleasure of addressing Minister Plenipotentiary Stephen McLeod”, B7 said turning to the gentlemen as the retinue approached her, “As well as Attaché to the Minister of Science and Industrial Development, Harijhatta Jutti,” she nodded toward the woman, “I am B7-34, assistant to the Director of The Institute as well as your aide throughout your stay here. On behalf of everyone in The Institute, welcome to Mount Desert Island. I do hope your flight was a pleasant one.”
B7 motioned with an open palm toward the largest of the prefabricated structures, “Before I escort you to Acadia, I’d like to invite you in briefly for a decontamination screening, use of facilities, and refreshments if you would like some. Do you have any immediate questions before we proceed? If not, please follow me.”
"No immediate questions," the Minister replied, silently noting the mechanical thing standing next to her - another one of the synths, he supposed. Harijhatta already seemed excited, but she managed to contain herself.
"Our flight was pleasant, yes. We've not had any interference, though that may become an issue in the near future, thanks to the somewhat nearby presence of the Enclave - hence the escort. For now, though, let's move through decontamination."
“Of course,” B7 replied with a nod of her head, “Right this way.”
B7 then turned and led the group into the reception building, passing through a set of secure double doors held open by skeletal Gen-1 synths. They then entered a tight hallway lined with wall mounted rectangular radiation sensors. At the end of the hallway, a Gen-3 male monitored a terminal closely and once the entire group had passed through, he gave a quick thumbs up to B7.
Without pausing, the Synth assistant then led the Rontonians into a medium sized open room filled with white tables containing all manner of assorted pre-war snacks and purified water. Slocum Joe’s Donuts, carefully made as precisely as possible to follow the pre-war recipe, were laid out in an elaborate turntable display next to a large self-dispensing coffee machine at the far end of the room. White uniformed Gen-3s manned each table station and happily offered the group any refreshments they desired. A small seating area with cushioned chairs was available for anyone to sit if they preferred to. It was clear the building itself was sparse and utilitarian, and these arrangements had been specifically prepared for the delegation, but that made it no less welcoming.
“Please take anything you’d like and use the restroom to the left should you require it. Also, just an aside, your pilots and aircraft crew are likewise welcome to stay here and make use of these facilities for as long as is required. They will be invited in once we’ve departed.” B7 said cheerfully.
------
Once the Ronto delegation had rested, B7 politely gathered them up and ushered them through the proceeding door at the opposite end from where they’d entered. They now found themselves in a small grey room lined from top to bottom with electronic panels and all manner of unknown equipment, which seemed very different from anything else in the building. A circular base lay on the floor beneath their feet which formed an elaborate spiral pattern.
“Please stand here and wait one moment,” B7 said.
B7 then stared forward, a small smile spreading on her face as she spoke something clear and audible to all, but that seemed to be directed to no-one in the room,
“B7-34 reporting and ready for relay to Acadia. I have the Ronto delegation with me.”
Suddenly there was a flash of blue light, and B7 disappeared before their very eyes, before each Rontontian, in turn, did the same: vanishing into the molecular relay in an instant.
--------------------------------------------
Director Crawford had watched from the balcony of the Acadia observatory as the Rontonian planes had descended from the sky. His mind churned with the possibilities of what might be accomplished if an agreement could be reached between them. They were clearly an advanced and established nation, more so than most groups in the wastes. After all, only The Brotherhood and The Enclave had managed to project that kind of air power in the past. He’d seen nothing that would indicate that Ronto outmatched The Institute in technological advancements, but everything pointed to the truth that their resources and mobilization were something to be wary of.
This could prove an interesting meeting.
—-----------------------------------------
After some time waiting, Xavier had made his way down to the lower level of the Observatory with a pair of Coursers in tow and was standing before the opposite end of the relay system. Despite the immense power required for even a short-range usage of the relay, Xavier had insisted on its use, hoping to use it to illustrate The Institute’s full capabilities.
“Sir, B7 has arrived at the relay point.” One of the coursers reported.
“Proceed.” Xavier nodded.
In an instant, the Ronto delegation was standing before him along with B7, the successful relay having transported them from the airport to the Observatory in a split second. He could only hope the countless hours of energy cutback on to enable the traversal would be worth it.
“Welcome to Acadia,” He said warmly as he approached the delegation and extended his hand, “I’m Dr. Xavier Allen Crawford, current acting Director of The Commonwealth Institute of Technology.”
The Rontonians were shocked, certainly - even amazed - but seeing as they were intact and still armed, they endeavored not to show it.
"Minister Plenipotentiary Stephen McCloud," he replied, reaching out to give Dr. Crawford's hand a firm shake. The Minister of Science, of course, shook next, and Stephen continued.
"...And Minister of Science and Industrial Development, Harijhatta Jutti, PhD."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. Doctor Crawford. We'd heard a good few things about your technology, but we certainly didn't anticipate teleportation. You don't mind the presence of our bodyguards, I hope? It's standard procedure for first contact." He said, smiling gently. The Minister of Science, however, looked simply excited.
“Oh, not at all,” The Director replied with a smile of his own, “Provided of course you don’t mind mine.” He gestured towards the dour Coursers to either side of him, “I assure you that you won’t find a safer spot anywhere on the East Coast, but one can never be too careful.”
“I’m sure we have much to discuss and I hope our conversation will be a fruitful one. Without further ado then, if you would follow me I’ll take you to a more comfortable location where we can chat.”
The Director then turned and began leading the group through the observatory basement, with B7 keeping pace directly behind him. They traveled past banks of database servers and various pieces of equipment. Every so often they crossed paths with an Institute scientist in one of their yellow facilities lab coats or synths in red and white uniforms. The Coursers kept a careful watch on the group at all times, but maintained a respectful distance.
Soon they reached an elevator and the Director ushered them inside. Once its glass doors had closed, he turned to the delegates,
“I’m afraid what you’ll see here is a fraction of what The Institute used to be. This is not our original home, you understand. We’ve certainly done what we can to make the best of it.”
Moments later and the elevator doors had opened back up and out into the open air of a bright blue sky. They were standing atop the observatory balcony now, which wrapped around the dome. The entirety of Acadia National park and part of Far Harbor was visible to them, along with the walled-in sanctuary of prefabricated buildings and residences that formed the Institute’s mountaintop home. Xavier then led them around the balcony for some distance until they came to a short flight of stairs which led up to a small enclosure that seemed to be jutting out from the dome and had clearly not been part of the original structure.
B7 went up first and opened the door to allow their guests into a small window-lined sunroom consisting of a pristine white table and chairs. The sunroom looked out onto a magnificent view of the harbor and the wider ocean beyond.
“Please take a seat,” The Director said as he sat down at the far end of the table. He then adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his dark hair, “I trust B7 has already offered you refreshments but if you’d like anything at any point, please don’t hesitate to ask. Perhaps B7 you can start by fetching everyone a purified water just in case?”
“Of course sir.”
“Thank you B7, “ He then turned back to the delegates, “As for your guards they may have a seat or wait outside. Whichever is more comfortable to you. My Coursers will remain standing outside.”
“Now,” he said, leaning forward and laying his folded hands on the table, “I appreciate the fact that you’ve all come a long way, with the assurances of nothing other than what little you heard from the Synth Scout you received. I’ll start by offering up what I hope to get out of our talks here: I want to open a dialogue, plain and simple. The Institute has remained in the shadows and without friends for far too long, and we suffered greatly because of that. I want us to come to an understanding that will benefit both our peoples greatly.”
"That's exactly what we're looking for, and I'm quite sure there are plenty of things we can offer you," Stephen replied, gesturing for Jutti to sit before quietly sitting down himself. "Generating capacity, for example - in the more than two hundred years since the Great War, we've managed to restore a large portion of pre-war Ontario's generating capacity, and we have a large surplus to offer at the moment, as a result. More soon enough, we believe, now that we've started to push north and secure what remains of some prewar nuclear research facilities. Of course, I'm sure you understand that I can't make promises with nothing in return, but I'm confident we'll be able to come to a mutually beneficial agreement soon enough, particularly considering the breadth and depth of your scientific knowledge." Stephen said, hands folded one over the other in his lap, while Jutti sat silently, waiting for an opportune chance to speak.
“Power is indeed something we are in great need of,” The Director nodded, “As you might guess, our technological progress is somewhat hampered by this limitation. Even before coming here, we were forced to ration power and distribute it according to project priority. Now those problems are even worse.”
Xavier removed his glasses, and cleaned them briefly within the folds of his lab coat putting them back on, “As far as the rest goes, I appreciate that there will need to be a give and take in all things we discuss here. So with that being said lets both agree to lay our cards out on the table and hash things out appropriately. What then, are some areas that Ronto needs scientific or technological support in? Let’s begin with that, and I’ll decide if we are able to meet that need first and foremost.”
"Minister Jutti?"
She nodded, clearing her throat. "At the moment, our greatest need - in terms of technological support - is in improving crop yields. We've dug up as much information as we can find on prewar agricultural techniques, but those only go so far, especially in a world that is still recovering from disastrous levels of environmental pollution. Put simply, Ronto attracts refugees, and it's our duty to feed them. Second to that concern - and related to it - is our communications network. We've made great strides in terms of deploying radio and even television technology, but without access to satellites, we lack the ability of extremely long-range communication that'd be valuable for securing mineral resources and coordinating strikes against the Enclave."
“Ah, yes, agricultural research is something we have made great strides in. Bioscience previously achieved astounding success with The Warwick Initiative, which was able to produce a strain of GMO crops that nearly tripled harvest yields in even relatively infertile soil. Perhaps when we are finished here you might be interested in touring our Greenhouse? I’d be happy to arrange it.”
The Director then paused and raised a hand to his chin thoughtfully before continuing, “As for communications, that is a bit more difficult to solve. Degrading pre-war infrastructure is the largest hurdle to overcome, as I’m sure you know. Every year that passes means that there are less and less pre-war satellites in orbit, as most if not all are well past their expected term of service. However, Advanced Systems did at one point have a project on the table which included in its goals the development and launch of new satellites to reinforce the failing old network. It was scrapped, as you might guess, because of material cost and a simple lack of need. Long-range communication was never in any sort of great demand, as our operations typically did not extend past a certain range anyway. I think we might be able to resurrect that project, and perhaps with our combined resources see it to completion. Is that agreeable?”
"We're absolutely interested in both of your proposals," Jutti replied, after receiving a nod of approval from the Minister Plenipotentiary. "You're aware of the difficulties in launching satellites this far from the equator, I'm sure - and, as you've stated, restoring and maintaining more stable methods of communication when it comes to prewar telephone lines, and the like. Mr. McLeod told me that we'd also like establish a line of communication with you as soon as possible, and, given our relationship proves to be fruitful, it may become possible to enlist your aid in recovering scientific knowledge from other prewar facilities - the Chapman Space Centre, for example." She explained, gradually leaning forward, excited at the prospect of scientific exchange. McLeod, on the other hand, had an entirely calm air about him, neither excited nor bored, a carefully practiced in-between.
"Of course -" McLeod interrupted her. "These locations are in Canada, and we consider a number to be our sovereign property, so we'd suggest that they are not visited without our permission - just as we wouldn't go rooting through your data without permission. I'm able to agree to your proposals as they've been described so far on behalf of my government, however."
"Ah well, that is no problem," Xavier replied, "We have no interest in interfering with your sovereignty. Now as for your earlier point, " he said, turning back to Jutti, "There was some consideration given to the issue of a non-equatorial launch. Frankly, the proposed solution was a bit fanciful at the time, but perhaps still possible. We can discuss those details at a later date however."
"There is something else I'd like to put on the table as well. I'll be forthright and say it's my most pressing concern,” He paused, looking back and forth between the two Ministers, “Ronto is rumoured to be a significant military by those of us in the east, and judging by your fighter escort display earlier I’d say that those rumours are not unfounded. I’d like certain assurances that The Institute will be reinforced in the case of any hostile activity towards us. Of course such a pact would work both ways, we may not be the strongest military power in the wastes, but our Synths form the core of an innately disciplined and trained soldierly which fears nothing and wants for nothing. And our technological expertise could be quite beneficial in certain situations, especially up against groups such as The Enclave. A single well-orchestrated cyber attack can be worth more than an entire army in the field. What would your government say to such a proposal?”
"That... Is an admittedly more difficult matter, Dr. Crawford." Stephen replied, gently pursing his lips. "Now, I'm not saying no - in fact, we can negotiate precise terms right here - but ratification of defense agreements requires a vote by parliament, is all." He explained.
“Indeed, the wheels of democracy must turn and so forth,” The Director said with a shrug, “I understand. Although…come to think of it…..” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment as he considered his next words carefully, “Perhaps…it would be more appropriate if I should plead my case directly to your Parliament and speak before it? I’d imagine that its members might be more apt to vote in favor of such an alliance if they were able to hear it from me personally, as opposed to a diplomat relaying it by proxy. I will defer to your judgment of course, as I’m unfamiliar with your customs, but I would not shirk such an opportunity.”
"I won't comment on whether or not it'll be more effective, but I can say that, if that's something you wish do to, you'll have to speak with the Prime Minister. Parliament generally doesn't speak with foreign leaders, but the Prime Minister does, and leads the largest party in Parliament. It's largely her duty or that of appointed ambassadors to negotiate high-level treaties, anyways - besides, a visit will give us a chance to show Ronto to you." Stephen smiled. Besides, in the context of a defensive treaty, it'd be best one of them meets with her wife anyways.
"If you intend to do that, I'd recommend bringing along whatever diplomatic staff you'd deem necessary, along with anyone you'd need to negotiate military treaties. I don't anticipate significant culture shock, however." He continued, omitting the issue of synth personhood. Whatever they were, he didn't know - but he knew he didn't want to risk being killed over it.
“That was my thought as well,” Xavier nodded in agreement, “I would very much like to visit it. I confess that I’ve spent most of my life in isolation: I was born and raised in The Institute, and my first interaction with the outside world was my journey here. I think it would do me good to see something more of the world than what my bubble of relative tranquility has offered thus far. As for my staff, I would need only bring myself, my assistant,’ He motioned to B7, “And a few Coursers for personal protection. As acting Director I speak wholly for The Directorate, and therefore all of The Institute’s personnel and am empowered to act accordingly.”
“Excellent, now that’s settled, I’m quite content to hear out anything else you wish to speak on. The floor is yours.” He said finally.
“Well, delving deeper into the matters we’ve discussed, I would like to see more of your facilities. I understand that you have your own state secrets, of course, and I won’t ask you to divulge them, but it’ll nonetheless help your case the more I’m able to see how you and your folk live and work.” Stephen explained, bringing his hands together in his lap. “Words help, of course,, but I haven’t seen enough of the Institute to make any recommendations to my Prime Minister in your favour, aside from how advanced your technology is and your generally hospitable treatment of us.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Xavier said as he stood up, “And with that said I’d like to extend you an offer to stay with us for a night. It will allow you some time to get some sense of our daily life here and then be fully rested before a return journey to Ronto. And perhaps an official tour of sorts could be arranged, I’m sure B7 would be more than happy to conduct it.”
“Absolutely sir,” Came the reply from the female Synth.
“You also have my full permission to explore Acadia for yourself, within reason of course, certain buildings and areas will be restricted. I also ask that if you have any interest in heading outside our walls that you allow us to escort you. The wilderness of Mount Desert Island can be quite dangerous, and the fog….unpredictable. Other than that, you have our hospitality. B7 would you be so kind as to show them to the prepared quarters?”
—------------------------------------------
Minutes later, B7 had led the delegates down and out of the main Observatory building, and took them towards the far end of the Acadian perimeter, towards a one-story prefabricated structure. A couple of skeletal Gen-1 Synths helped carry any luggage they had brought with them. When the door to the building opened automatically, it revealed a hallway with a series of rooms, each one containing a bed, a writing desk, and a smaller lavatory room. It was altogether sparse accommodations, but very clean at least,
“Rooms for you both and your guards,” B7 motioned for them to enter, “If you should need anything, simply speak to any attendant Synth. They will relay your request to me. Otherwise, we will see each other again tomorrow. ”
Word had gotten back to Acadia of contact with Ronto, and Director Xavier Crawford was ecstatic at the notion that a Rontonian delegation’s arrival was not only possible, but imminent. Here, at last, was a golden opportunity to open diplomatic ties with a strong nation in the North. He’d heard rumours of Ronto, and the scant details that had filtered down were impressive. If certain pacts and assurances could be made between them, then The Institute would have gained a powerful friend indeed. But first, they would need to convince Ronto of the potential benefits of such an arrangement.
The Director turned to his every present and capable Gen-3 Synth assistant,
“Are we ready B7?”
“All preparations have been made, Director, I’ll be leaving shortly to greet them.”
“Excellent, inform me when they arrive. And ensure they have a warm welcome…”
-----------------------
Before the war the small Bar Harbor airport had catered to thousands of tourists who arrived on Mount Desert Island every year to have a taste of Maine, but wished to avoid any sort of drive. When The Institute had first arrived here, they’d cleared out much of the debris and rusted out aircraft which had littered the airport, scavenging whatever they could. Afterwards they’d established a sort of forward operating base, which served both as a research camp and a supply depot for expeditions around Mount Desert Island or even to the mainland. Slowly the camp had been built up and many of the pre-war structures around it repaired and repurposed.
With the news of a delegation's arrival here, however, the airport had been a flurry of activity. Hundreds of Synths of every generation had worked round the clock to ensure that the airport was ready in every respect to allow a plane to land here and its passengers to safely disembark. Unsightly ruins had been demolished and replaced with pristine Institute prefabricated modular structures of white and blue, which included a squat traffic control tower topped with a series of satellite dishes and a large fog condenser. Armed Gen-2 and Gen-3 Synths carefully patrolled the fenced-in perimeter of the airport, overseen by a small handful of ever vigilant Coursers.
B7 stood waiting on the freshly repaved tarmac near where the airplane would be directed to park. She wore a stark white dress suit reminiscent of pre-war business attire, with a red vitruvian man badge pinned to her left jacket lapel. A uniformed Gen-2 synth stood directly to her right, holding a thin umbrella which provided her shade from the bright sun overhead. The Rontonian delegation was extremely fortunate in the timing of their arrival: the Fog had abated for the time being leaving the island almost entirely free of the mist aside from the areas of Deep Fog on the western side. The Institute’s Fog condensers normally kept the eastern half clear in any event, but their reach only extended so far, and it was better that it had retreated entirely so as to keep the chances of any incident with the landing to an absolute minimum.
Calm and composed, B7 looked up to the sky as the first sounds of the incoming aircraft could be heard many miles away.
-------
It wasn’t long before the harsh, droning noise of turboprops resolved into something clearly discernable to the synths - the small squadron of approaching aircraft had been communicating with air-traffic control for some time, several shapes transforming from pinpricks to rapidly approaching tubes. One, the largest of the group, dipped its nose down toward the hastily rebuilt airport, distant sunlight shining off of the raised stabilizers at the very top of its tail. Outside of the wasteland, its pristine white interior, marked only by the flag of Ronto, would’ve been an unusual sight - but the sheer scarcity of aircraft in the wasteland made its cleanliness and gull-wings seem even more unusual by comparison. One by one, more noises joined the first, but rather than preparing to land, they simply sped past the airfield without a care.
Twin-engined shadows briefly blotted out the sun, Maple Leaf roundels the only distinct features - aside from pairs of gunpods - visible on the undersides. Wasting no time, one after the other, the fighter escorts zoomed by, off to the ocean, only to quickly begin slow, sloping turns in v-shaped formation, back toward Canadian territory.
The largest aircraft, though, continued on its gentle slope toward the landing strip, slowing to a practical crawl barely faster than pre-war cars on the highway.
Halfway down the runway from where B7 stood, the plane touched down, nose pulling gently upward mere moments before impact. It rolled forward for a fraction of a second before the nose gear, too, touched down - and then continued to roll down the runway, onto the taxiway, before finally coming to a stop a couple handfuls of meters from B7, enough distance to avoid striking her with propwash.
The exit door toward the cockpit swung downward, a set of metal stairs extending toward the apron.
One-by-one, guards in the same red, steson-capped uniforms B7 had seen in that tiny frontier town marched down the steps, filing off to either side until they formed two lines six abreast, one deep, standing at attention.
Soon after, a fair-skinned middle-aged man clad in a black suit emerged from the aircraft, marching down the steps after the officers. Two moved into place in front of her, though he was quickly followed by another person - a slightly younger woman of a darker, wheatish skin tone dressed in a navy blue pantsuit.
Followed by their pistol-armed guards, they made their way toward B7, while the pilot and copilot of the aircraft meticulously checked over instruments in the cockpit.
“I trust I have the pleasure of addressing Minister Plenipotentiary Stephen McLeod”, B7 said turning to the gentlemen as the retinue approached her, “As well as Attaché to the Minister of Science and Industrial Development, Harijhatta Jutti,” she nodded toward the woman, “I am B7-34, assistant to the Director of The Institute as well as your aide throughout your stay here. On behalf of everyone in The Institute, welcome to Mount Desert Island. I do hope your flight was a pleasant one.”
B7 motioned with an open palm toward the largest of the prefabricated structures, “Before I escort you to Acadia, I’d like to invite you in briefly for a decontamination screening, use of facilities, and refreshments if you would like some. Do you have any immediate questions before we proceed? If not, please follow me.”
"No immediate questions," the Minister replied, silently noting the mechanical thing standing next to her - another one of the synths, he supposed. Harijhatta already seemed excited, but she managed to contain herself.
"Our flight was pleasant, yes. We've not had any interference, though that may become an issue in the near future, thanks to the somewhat nearby presence of the Enclave - hence the escort. For now, though, let's move through decontamination."
“Of course,” B7 replied with a nod of her head, “Right this way.”
B7 then turned and led the group into the reception building, passing through a set of secure double doors held open by skeletal Gen-1 synths. They then entered a tight hallway lined with wall mounted rectangular radiation sensors. At the end of the hallway, a Gen-3 male monitored a terminal closely and once the entire group had passed through, he gave a quick thumbs up to B7.
Without pausing, the Synth assistant then led the Rontonians into a medium sized open room filled with white tables containing all manner of assorted pre-war snacks and purified water. Slocum Joe’s Donuts, carefully made as precisely as possible to follow the pre-war recipe, were laid out in an elaborate turntable display next to a large self-dispensing coffee machine at the far end of the room. White uniformed Gen-3s manned each table station and happily offered the group any refreshments they desired. A small seating area with cushioned chairs was available for anyone to sit if they preferred to. It was clear the building itself was sparse and utilitarian, and these arrangements had been specifically prepared for the delegation, but that made it no less welcoming.
“Please take anything you’d like and use the restroom to the left should you require it. Also, just an aside, your pilots and aircraft crew are likewise welcome to stay here and make use of these facilities for as long as is required. They will be invited in once we’ve departed.” B7 said cheerfully.
------
Once the Ronto delegation had rested, B7 politely gathered them up and ushered them through the proceeding door at the opposite end from where they’d entered. They now found themselves in a small grey room lined from top to bottom with electronic panels and all manner of unknown equipment, which seemed very different from anything else in the building. A circular base lay on the floor beneath their feet which formed an elaborate spiral pattern.
“Please stand here and wait one moment,” B7 said.
B7 then stared forward, a small smile spreading on her face as she spoke something clear and audible to all, but that seemed to be directed to no-one in the room,
“B7-34 reporting and ready for relay to Acadia. I have the Ronto delegation with me.”
Suddenly there was a flash of blue light, and B7 disappeared before their very eyes, before each Rontontian, in turn, did the same: vanishing into the molecular relay in an instant.
--------------------------------------------
Director Crawford had watched from the balcony of the Acadia observatory as the Rontonian planes had descended from the sky. His mind churned with the possibilities of what might be accomplished if an agreement could be reached between them. They were clearly an advanced and established nation, more so than most groups in the wastes. After all, only The Brotherhood and The Enclave had managed to project that kind of air power in the past. He’d seen nothing that would indicate that Ronto outmatched The Institute in technological advancements, but everything pointed to the truth that their resources and mobilization were something to be wary of.
This could prove an interesting meeting.
—-----------------------------------------
After some time waiting, Xavier had made his way down to the lower level of the Observatory with a pair of Coursers in tow and was standing before the opposite end of the relay system. Despite the immense power required for even a short-range usage of the relay, Xavier had insisted on its use, hoping to use it to illustrate The Institute’s full capabilities.
“Sir, B7 has arrived at the relay point.” One of the coursers reported.
“Proceed.” Xavier nodded.
In an instant, the Ronto delegation was standing before him along with B7, the successful relay having transported them from the airport to the Observatory in a split second. He could only hope the countless hours of energy cutback on to enable the traversal would be worth it.
“Welcome to Acadia,” He said warmly as he approached the delegation and extended his hand, “I’m Dr. Xavier Allen Crawford, current acting Director of The Commonwealth Institute of Technology.”
The Rontonians were shocked, certainly - even amazed - but seeing as they were intact and still armed, they endeavored not to show it.
"Minister Plenipotentiary Stephen McCloud," he replied, reaching out to give Dr. Crawford's hand a firm shake. The Minister of Science, of course, shook next, and Stephen continued.
"...And Minister of Science and Industrial Development, Harijhatta Jutti, PhD."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. Doctor Crawford. We'd heard a good few things about your technology, but we certainly didn't anticipate teleportation. You don't mind the presence of our bodyguards, I hope? It's standard procedure for first contact." He said, smiling gently. The Minister of Science, however, looked simply excited.
“Oh, not at all,” The Director replied with a smile of his own, “Provided of course you don’t mind mine.” He gestured towards the dour Coursers to either side of him, “I assure you that you won’t find a safer spot anywhere on the East Coast, but one can never be too careful.”
“I’m sure we have much to discuss and I hope our conversation will be a fruitful one. Without further ado then, if you would follow me I’ll take you to a more comfortable location where we can chat.”
The Director then turned and began leading the group through the observatory basement, with B7 keeping pace directly behind him. They traveled past banks of database servers and various pieces of equipment. Every so often they crossed paths with an Institute scientist in one of their yellow facilities lab coats or synths in red and white uniforms. The Coursers kept a careful watch on the group at all times, but maintained a respectful distance.
Soon they reached an elevator and the Director ushered them inside. Once its glass doors had closed, he turned to the delegates,
“I’m afraid what you’ll see here is a fraction of what The Institute used to be. This is not our original home, you understand. We’ve certainly done what we can to make the best of it.”
Moments later and the elevator doors had opened back up and out into the open air of a bright blue sky. They were standing atop the observatory balcony now, which wrapped around the dome. The entirety of Acadia National park and part of Far Harbor was visible to them, along with the walled-in sanctuary of prefabricated buildings and residences that formed the Institute’s mountaintop home. Xavier then led them around the balcony for some distance until they came to a short flight of stairs which led up to a small enclosure that seemed to be jutting out from the dome and had clearly not been part of the original structure.
B7 went up first and opened the door to allow their guests into a small window-lined sunroom consisting of a pristine white table and chairs. The sunroom looked out onto a magnificent view of the harbor and the wider ocean beyond.
“Please take a seat,” The Director said as he sat down at the far end of the table. He then adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his dark hair, “I trust B7 has already offered you refreshments but if you’d like anything at any point, please don’t hesitate to ask. Perhaps B7 you can start by fetching everyone a purified water just in case?”
“Of course sir.”
“Thank you B7, “ He then turned back to the delegates, “As for your guards they may have a seat or wait outside. Whichever is more comfortable to you. My Coursers will remain standing outside.”
“Now,” he said, leaning forward and laying his folded hands on the table, “I appreciate the fact that you’ve all come a long way, with the assurances of nothing other than what little you heard from the Synth Scout you received. I’ll start by offering up what I hope to get out of our talks here: I want to open a dialogue, plain and simple. The Institute has remained in the shadows and without friends for far too long, and we suffered greatly because of that. I want us to come to an understanding that will benefit both our peoples greatly.”
"That's exactly what we're looking for, and I'm quite sure there are plenty of things we can offer you," Stephen replied, gesturing for Jutti to sit before quietly sitting down himself. "Generating capacity, for example - in the more than two hundred years since the Great War, we've managed to restore a large portion of pre-war Ontario's generating capacity, and we have a large surplus to offer at the moment, as a result. More soon enough, we believe, now that we've started to push north and secure what remains of some prewar nuclear research facilities. Of course, I'm sure you understand that I can't make promises with nothing in return, but I'm confident we'll be able to come to a mutually beneficial agreement soon enough, particularly considering the breadth and depth of your scientific knowledge." Stephen said, hands folded one over the other in his lap, while Jutti sat silently, waiting for an opportune chance to speak.
“Power is indeed something we are in great need of,” The Director nodded, “As you might guess, our technological progress is somewhat hampered by this limitation. Even before coming here, we were forced to ration power and distribute it according to project priority. Now those problems are even worse.”
Xavier removed his glasses, and cleaned them briefly within the folds of his lab coat putting them back on, “As far as the rest goes, I appreciate that there will need to be a give and take in all things we discuss here. So with that being said lets both agree to lay our cards out on the table and hash things out appropriately. What then, are some areas that Ronto needs scientific or technological support in? Let’s begin with that, and I’ll decide if we are able to meet that need first and foremost.”
"Minister Jutti?"
She nodded, clearing her throat. "At the moment, our greatest need - in terms of technological support - is in improving crop yields. We've dug up as much information as we can find on prewar agricultural techniques, but those only go so far, especially in a world that is still recovering from disastrous levels of environmental pollution. Put simply, Ronto attracts refugees, and it's our duty to feed them. Second to that concern - and related to it - is our communications network. We've made great strides in terms of deploying radio and even television technology, but without access to satellites, we lack the ability of extremely long-range communication that'd be valuable for securing mineral resources and coordinating strikes against the Enclave."
“Ah, yes, agricultural research is something we have made great strides in. Bioscience previously achieved astounding success with The Warwick Initiative, which was able to produce a strain of GMO crops that nearly tripled harvest yields in even relatively infertile soil. Perhaps when we are finished here you might be interested in touring our Greenhouse? I’d be happy to arrange it.”
The Director then paused and raised a hand to his chin thoughtfully before continuing, “As for communications, that is a bit more difficult to solve. Degrading pre-war infrastructure is the largest hurdle to overcome, as I’m sure you know. Every year that passes means that there are less and less pre-war satellites in orbit, as most if not all are well past their expected term of service. However, Advanced Systems did at one point have a project on the table which included in its goals the development and launch of new satellites to reinforce the failing old network. It was scrapped, as you might guess, because of material cost and a simple lack of need. Long-range communication was never in any sort of great demand, as our operations typically did not extend past a certain range anyway. I think we might be able to resurrect that project, and perhaps with our combined resources see it to completion. Is that agreeable?”
"We're absolutely interested in both of your proposals," Jutti replied, after receiving a nod of approval from the Minister Plenipotentiary. "You're aware of the difficulties in launching satellites this far from the equator, I'm sure - and, as you've stated, restoring and maintaining more stable methods of communication when it comes to prewar telephone lines, and the like. Mr. McLeod told me that we'd also like establish a line of communication with you as soon as possible, and, given our relationship proves to be fruitful, it may become possible to enlist your aid in recovering scientific knowledge from other prewar facilities - the Chapman Space Centre, for example." She explained, gradually leaning forward, excited at the prospect of scientific exchange. McLeod, on the other hand, had an entirely calm air about him, neither excited nor bored, a carefully practiced in-between.
"Of course -" McLeod interrupted her. "These locations are in Canada, and we consider a number to be our sovereign property, so we'd suggest that they are not visited without our permission - just as we wouldn't go rooting through your data without permission. I'm able to agree to your proposals as they've been described so far on behalf of my government, however."
"Ah well, that is no problem," Xavier replied, "We have no interest in interfering with your sovereignty. Now as for your earlier point, " he said, turning back to Jutti, "There was some consideration given to the issue of a non-equatorial launch. Frankly, the proposed solution was a bit fanciful at the time, but perhaps still possible. We can discuss those details at a later date however."
"There is something else I'd like to put on the table as well. I'll be forthright and say it's my most pressing concern,” He paused, looking back and forth between the two Ministers, “Ronto is rumoured to be a significant military by those of us in the east, and judging by your fighter escort display earlier I’d say that those rumours are not unfounded. I’d like certain assurances that The Institute will be reinforced in the case of any hostile activity towards us. Of course such a pact would work both ways, we may not be the strongest military power in the wastes, but our Synths form the core of an innately disciplined and trained soldierly which fears nothing and wants for nothing. And our technological expertise could be quite beneficial in certain situations, especially up against groups such as The Enclave. A single well-orchestrated cyber attack can be worth more than an entire army in the field. What would your government say to such a proposal?”
"That... Is an admittedly more difficult matter, Dr. Crawford." Stephen replied, gently pursing his lips. "Now, I'm not saying no - in fact, we can negotiate precise terms right here - but ratification of defense agreements requires a vote by parliament, is all." He explained.
“Indeed, the wheels of democracy must turn and so forth,” The Director said with a shrug, “I understand. Although…come to think of it…..” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment as he considered his next words carefully, “Perhaps…it would be more appropriate if I should plead my case directly to your Parliament and speak before it? I’d imagine that its members might be more apt to vote in favor of such an alliance if they were able to hear it from me personally, as opposed to a diplomat relaying it by proxy. I will defer to your judgment of course, as I’m unfamiliar with your customs, but I would not shirk such an opportunity.”
"I won't comment on whether or not it'll be more effective, but I can say that, if that's something you wish do to, you'll have to speak with the Prime Minister. Parliament generally doesn't speak with foreign leaders, but the Prime Minister does, and leads the largest party in Parliament. It's largely her duty or that of appointed ambassadors to negotiate high-level treaties, anyways - besides, a visit will give us a chance to show Ronto to you." Stephen smiled. Besides, in the context of a defensive treaty, it'd be best one of them meets with her wife anyways.
"If you intend to do that, I'd recommend bringing along whatever diplomatic staff you'd deem necessary, along with anyone you'd need to negotiate military treaties. I don't anticipate significant culture shock, however." He continued, omitting the issue of synth personhood. Whatever they were, he didn't know - but he knew he didn't want to risk being killed over it.
“That was my thought as well,” Xavier nodded in agreement, “I would very much like to visit it. I confess that I’ve spent most of my life in isolation: I was born and raised in The Institute, and my first interaction with the outside world was my journey here. I think it would do me good to see something more of the world than what my bubble of relative tranquility has offered thus far. As for my staff, I would need only bring myself, my assistant,’ He motioned to B7, “And a few Coursers for personal protection. As acting Director I speak wholly for The Directorate, and therefore all of The Institute’s personnel and am empowered to act accordingly.”
“Excellent, now that’s settled, I’m quite content to hear out anything else you wish to speak on. The floor is yours.” He said finally.
“Well, delving deeper into the matters we’ve discussed, I would like to see more of your facilities. I understand that you have your own state secrets, of course, and I won’t ask you to divulge them, but it’ll nonetheless help your case the more I’m able to see how you and your folk live and work.” Stephen explained, bringing his hands together in his lap. “Words help, of course,, but I haven’t seen enough of the Institute to make any recommendations to my Prime Minister in your favour, aside from how advanced your technology is and your generally hospitable treatment of us.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Xavier said as he stood up, “And with that said I’d like to extend you an offer to stay with us for a night. It will allow you some time to get some sense of our daily life here and then be fully rested before a return journey to Ronto. And perhaps an official tour of sorts could be arranged, I’m sure B7 would be more than happy to conduct it.”
“Absolutely sir,” Came the reply from the female Synth.
“You also have my full permission to explore Acadia for yourself, within reason of course, certain buildings and areas will be restricted. I also ask that if you have any interest in heading outside our walls that you allow us to escort you. The wilderness of Mount Desert Island can be quite dangerous, and the fog….unpredictable. Other than that, you have our hospitality. B7 would you be so kind as to show them to the prepared quarters?”
—------------------------------------------
Minutes later, B7 had led the delegates down and out of the main Observatory building, and took them towards the far end of the Acadian perimeter, towards a one-story prefabricated structure. A couple of skeletal Gen-1 Synths helped carry any luggage they had brought with them. When the door to the building opened automatically, it revealed a hallway with a series of rooms, each one containing a bed, a writing desk, and a smaller lavatory room. It was altogether sparse accommodations, but very clean at least,
“Rooms for you both and your guards,” B7 motioned for them to enter, “If you should need anything, simply speak to any attendant Synth. They will relay your request to me. Otherwise, we will see each other again tomorrow. ”