Diplomatic Tower, Mighty Bragule
Co-written with Darkevilme
Later that day, in the evening to be precise, Zavyd invited Ambassdor Satia to dine with him alone. They went into one of the Diplomatic Tower's commissaries, which was more or less a restaurant that catered to the palette of the various international guests and foreigners in the embassies of Bragule - all conveniently situated in the tower, where they were ostensibly defended by encircling layers of concealed missile batteries.
Zavyd ordered a bronto steak, which the Umerians graciously supplied the facility with, but he had to wait as apparently the bronto-steaks had gotten quite popular. Ambassador Satia, on perhaps her first visit to the Koprulu Zone, ordered some Koprulu Fried Chicken drumsticks. Within a few minutes, the server arrived to give them their dishes, but Satia was shocked when the Bragulan waiter took one of her drumsticks and bit a chunk off it, and the surprise didn't stop when the waiter took Zavyd's steak and chewed off a piece as well.
"Nyah!" Satia couldn't help but exclaim as the waiter nodded and placed the food on their table, before walking off to take other people's orders as though nothing had happened. "What was that?!"
"It is customary," Zavyd began, trying to put into words an explanation someone from outside Bragule might understand. "For food servers, and food makers, to sample their own dishes before serving it to persons of import, to make sure the food has not been poisoned by assassins. It is a compliment that the servers chose to nibble on your dish, Ambassador Satia."
"Eh..." Satia scratched her cat-ears. "Why do you do things to the eleventh degree here? If you don't mind my asking, of course."
"Koprulu Zone Rules," Zavyd chuckled. "You should know that by now, having already met our neighbors.
"I see." Satia nodded.
"Indeed." Zavyd held a fork that looked more like a trident, and stabbed his steak as he did so. Then he grabbed a Bragulan-sized steak knife and began cutting into the bloody meat. He smiled. "Shall we?"
"Surely," Ambassador Satia answered nonchalantly as she pushed the bitten drumstick aside. She forked a fresh one and doused it in gravy. She sampled it. "Mmm, not bad."
They dined on their pre-bitten steak and chickens and exchanged pleasantries, talking the night away as Zavyd asked her about what her life was like in the Hierarchy, and what it was like to be a member of the bourgeois, not to mention one bearing the name of the ruling Kithandran nobility. Satia, the skilled conversationalist she was, answered the questions politely and returned with some of her own, questions about Bragule and Zavyd's own life in service to Imperator and Empire. He explained that what he did was "not much" in the greater scheme of things, that he was but a modest citizen doing his patriotic duty like any Bragulan. Satia listened on, placing her chin on her hands while her tail swung lazily behind her.
"But it does seem like much," Satia said pleasantly. "Negotiating interstellar matters, galactic arms deals, quite a responsibility."
"Nyet, not quite as much as traveling halfway across known space when your nation is in such a tumultuous time such as this," Zavyd answered politely. "Bragule must be so strange for you, and so far away, yet you are here, now. Doing your country's duties. That is an admirable trait of a citizen, for it is service that distinguishes citizens from civilians."
Satia smiled meekly, surprised at how a bear could have such social graces, as they continued on. Eventually the main course was finished, and they proceeded with the desserts. Zavyd ordered Karlack kaviar, and when Satia's eyes widened he explained to her that the eggs were treated with intense but non-lingering radiation in the form of culinary neutron bombs, making them safe for consumption. Satia decided to order a bar of chocolate.
She nibbled on it playfully while Zavyd carefully ate his Karlack kaviar. Like fine wine, the ideologically-correct careful connoisseur consumed Karlack caviar by first lifting it up and looking at it closely and giving it a slight swirl, before sniffing it and then finally downing it when the sight and scent were judged acceptable. Except while drinking fine wine like that was just something pretentious puny humans from the snooty Fourth French Empire (and maybe Anglia too) did to appear like sophisticated tool-using homonids, such was not the case when eating Karlack kaviar - for one really needed to closely examine the things to make sure they were properly dead, so one didn't get infested to the core after gulping it down.
As Zavyd examined his Karlack kaviar eggs on the piece of Bragulan biscuits - Bragscuits - he also discreetly eyed Ambassador Satia as she nibbled on her choco-bar. Her raven black hair and the teeny tufts of fur on her ears, her lazily swinging tail, the mischievous expression on her face and those deep blue eyes one could get lost in... Chamarrans, what strange creatures from such a distant part of space. He didn't know what to make of them.
"Zavyd?" Satia's ears quirked up.
"Huh?"
"You've been holding the kaviar for a while now. I was starting to get worried." Satia said.
Nya, she thought that Bragulans really did go all out with their fine cuisine, they probably looked at Haruhiist fugu eaters and point and laugh.
"Oh, the eggs didn't hatch in my second stomach, don't worry." Zavyd reassured her. He tossed the egg-smeared Bragscuit into his mouth. "I was just deep in thought."
"About what?" Satia's ears quirked up again in curiosity.
"About what we can do with your disagreements with the Sovereignty," Zavyd replied. He took a shot glass of tsvagna, the drink with rocket fuel and battery acid-spiked alcohol, and downed it quickly as a precaution against the Karlack kaviar. "Damn this is good stuff. Want some?"
"No, thanks." Satia smiled and enjoyed her milk. "So, have you decided?"
"Nyet." Zavyd answered tersely. "And that's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Your indecision?" Satia narrowed her eyes. She knew she had to be careful, they were quite literally in bear territory, and the feeling she had when in the exposed conference room with the wide-open windows returned.
"Nyet. I have relayed it to my superiors, and they are still making their decision."
"I see." Satia wondered if the bear was stalling. Why was he doing this, anyway? From what she knew, the Bragulans did not have social graces and were never polite. They even took a dump in a Byzantine cathedral! "Then what will we discuss?"
"The situation in the Koprulu Zone," Zavyd began. The kick of the tsvagna was focusing him, the rocket fuel and battery acid far more intense than the alcohol, burning through it and doing their job by quickening his brains. "It lies in a balance, a very precarious one. They called the incident with the Monoliths, the one where your ship was found out, a Tannhauser Tango. But what most outsiders do not know is that the situation in the K-Zone is a perpetual Tannhauser Tango between all sides. The recent efforts by Bragule to reach out to the other galactic powers, the Hierarchy included, in glasnot and bragstroika, is aimed at bringing stability to the K-Zone."
Satia considered this. Were the Bragulans about to leave them high and dry for the sake of cosmopolitical convenience?
"No, we are not." Zavyd said.
Satia's ears quirked another time. Was the Bragulan an esper? Did Bragulans even have espers? She read the briefs, the Bragulans had practically zero-to-negative psi-potential, with the side-effect of having the same abysmal level in psi-susceptibility as well.
"No, we are not going to go back on what we agreed to earlier," Zavyd continued. "The Bragulan Star Empire still wishes to be comrade-nations with the Chamarran Hierarchy. The Imperator sees the human race encroaching throughout the nine vectors of the known universe and scowls in disgust at this infestation he beholds. He believes that those of us, we
aliens, as the humans call us, must stand and make a resistance against these humans and show them that they are the aliens in this galaxy, not us."
"We do not envy your chosen task, Zavyd, but tis a noble one. Though your neighbours seem difficult to work with." Satia replied tentatively. Just where was this bear getting at?
"What I am getting at," Zavyd went on, downing yet more tsvagna. "Is that the Bragulan Star Empire wishes to help the Chamarran Hierarchy. But the sheer realities, of distance, of differences, means that we must confront certain things, that one of the difficulties facing the Hierarchy in its dispute with the Sovereignty is the lack of information. Your spyship's capture was, in part, caused by that, I believe?"
"Among other things." Satia said with a nod. She knew had to be careful. These bears were turning out to be more than met the eye, more than simple ruthless genocidal warmongers, and there was a predatory intellect in them that should be considered.
"There is an old Bragulan war proverb coined by Byzon himself, saying that 'Knowing is half the battle'. We believe that to aid the Hierarchy in its current dispute, we must provide information that the Hierarchy needs, so that it can come to a better understanding of the situation, gain a better understanding of its opponent - the Sovereignty - and achieve a better understanding of the choices it has to make."
"Then please continue Zavyd, you have our full attention." Satia said, ears tilting forwards subtly for emphasis. Indeed though she would not admit it there was a growing realization in House Kithandra that over three hundred years of relative isolationism has left the Hierarchy's perceptions of the galaxy somewhat out of touch with the reality of the 35th century.
"The most pressing issue at the moment is the upcoming Haruhiist-mediated talks between the Hierarchy and the Sovereignty. The Hierarchy sends Princess Tia Kithandra to the meeting, whereas the Sovereignty has dispatched none other than Brigadier Flash Stalin, one of the greatest foes of the Bragulan Star Empire," strangely, Zavyd did not say the name with the contempt usually reserved for puny humans of all sorts. Then, he continued, "And one of the greatest military minds of the Sovereignty as well. One of the few worthy opponents humanity has to offer Bragule. Yet, know this, should the Sovereignty detect not only your force of ships bound for Sovereign borders, but also a force of Bragulan ships, then I am afraid the Haruhiist attempt at mediating diplomacy will assuredly fail at the expense of all parties."
Zavyd produced yet another thick leather-clad volume and placed it on the table with a thud.
"This, this is a compilation containing detailed files on Brigadier Stalin's mental anatomy. For decades he has patrolled Wild Space, engaging in many skirmishes with our great Space Fleet, showing himself to be a competent adversary. In the numerosity of these encounters, we have managed to gain a measure of his mentality, his psychology. Bragulan psychologicians, and psychiatricianists as well, have worked on it ever since he garnered our attention, and the compilation has expanded as he rose from mere strikestar captain to warfleet Brigadier." Zavyd explained. "We believe the reason for Brigadier Stalin's tactico-strategic effectiveness is in his ability to think like us, like a Bragulan. In that he will meet aggression head on with aggression of his own, be in in the battlefield as he has demonstrated, or in the political arena as we shall soon see."
"This volume is yours to use. Certain, many, parts have been redacted for Bragulan security reasons. I hope you will understand." Zavyd pushed the big book of war with his paws, sliding it to Satia.
Satia took the compilation, once again in dead tree format though thankfully smaller than the catalogue of death and smiled. "You have my sisters thanks for this document," she said before mulling over the Bragulan proposal. "So in essence," she said after a second or two of chocolate nibbling. "Now is not the time for the Bragulans to show their paw in this situation," she said with a thoughtful nod. "You make good sense, such open cooperation may predispose the Sovereignty against us."
"The discouragement may be seen as provocation, and for the Hierarchy, depending on the goals it seeks, it may not be desirable in the current situation where diplomacy is being attempted with the Sovereignty, courtesy of the Haruhiists." Zavyd agreed, then he remembered yet another Byzonism which he decided to share. "As the Imperator said, 'When her cubs mewl, the mother bear's paw-clout disembowels the wolf, but if the wolf takes care to keep its distance, then the mother bear's claws shall be left unstained and unsullied.'"
Satia inwardly thought to herself that she should acquire a book of the Imperators sayings during her stay here. But nodded. "The Hierarchy does not wish to see this situation escalate into further conflict with the Solarians at the present time."
"Neither would we. In the business of business, now would be an inopportune time for war, I'm afraid. We must have the advantage of right knowledge, to make the right decisions to put is in the right positions, and only then can we persecute the right kind of war - be it a political one or a military kind - the right kind where we will emerge victorious. Not merely against the Sovereignty, but in the galactic scale against the humans who've robbed our peoples of their heavenly birthright." Zavyd finished on a high note. It was a nice statement paraphrasing the Imperator's latest declarations, where he outlined the truth behind the glasnot and bragstroika, the rationale behind them and the machinations of his grand Fifty Year Plan. With the dinner and the dessert done, Zavyd picked up a handkerchief and dabbed his lips with it, politely wiping the tiny stains of food that had gotten on his fur. It was time to call this a night.
The human restaurateurs, the Umerian ones who prepared the bronto-steaks, the Altacarian ones who made the curries, and the Shepistani ones who fried killed horses, began clearing up their stuff while subservient human janitors mopped the floor. The Bragulan staff weren't going anywhere anytime soon, but that was because they weren't subject to the curfew.
Satia nodded a final time and rose to her feet, finishing the last of her chocolate. "I think I know the real reason you do things to the eleventh degree now," she confided with a smile "It's an act so they dont see how cunning you really are. My thanks for the wonderful meal and conversation Zavyd, you have given me a lot to think about."
"I hope we've helped the Hierarchy in some way that will be of use in the upcoming and perhaps difficult negotiations with the Sovereignty, Ambassador Satia." Zavyd likewise got up and towered above the slinky catgirl. He looked down and saw just how large the Big Brigadier Book was compared to her petite frame. "Ah, let me walk you to your place. The volume is quite large and heavy, designed so readers can raise it to shield themselves from the bullets of any would-be assassin, so I'll carry it for you."
"Of course Zavyd, my thanks." Satia said with a nod, handling the Brigadier book easier than her size and frame would suggest but nonetheless grateful to be free of the burden and thus relinquishing it to Zavyd's able grip readily enough.
They left the commissary-slash-restaurant together and as the Diplomatic Tower's corridors dimmed for the night-cycle, Zavyd escorted Ambassador Satia to her room. Zavyd held the Big Brigadier Book with one hand as they walked through the corridors together. Satia's cat-tail swished about behind her as their conversation wandered from cosmopolitics to more pleasant, if unimportant, subjects.