Life of an Exhausted Diplomat, Pt I

Posted on 11/12/2020 @ 5:45pm by
Edited on on 11/19/2020 @ 1:51pm

Mission: S3E1: Time of Change
Location: Palais du Concord, Earth
Timeline: Day 87 at 1320

Fond memories brushed fleetingly through his mind as Kieran reminiscred of his earliest days in France. They weren’t remotely comparable to what he was going through now, sad enough as it was. No luxury of dawdling about, as he tacked his view downwards. The officer blankly stared at the PADD in palm, wondering exactly what he was supposed to make of it. Councillors were always demanding folk, nigh-impossible to please and while polite most of the time…turn your back and they became among the most vicious creatures you would ever lay your eye on.

Politics were ruthless. He’d known that from the get-go, only now he’d wished he had listened to Ashara’s warnings as he began his career. It was too late now, as he considered that he was typically one to enjoy the water features trickling over earshot. Busy chatter often ruddled through the esplanade, where he strode through absently as if a shuttle on auto-pilot. He knew the pathways by memory now, which had slipped just enough to speak of how familiar he was with the area.

The Palais du Concord was once among his favourite places to visit, becoming a rare treat in his earlier career. More recently it had become a permanent fixture over the past several months. One might have appreciated the natural beauty, accompanied by pristine architecture. Some of the buildings dated back to Earth’s ancestral centuries, if you took the moments needed to gaze them over. As of late…he was not one of those tourists.

Frankly too busy to even consider the notion of stopping for a moment, Kieran sighed. It was all really disappointing, being unable to appreciate the area he once savoured. Maybe that was what happened when you became an overworked warhorse. Make no mistake — dialogues may have seemed cordial, but they were anything but peaceful. Particularly after the ignition of Mars’ atmosphere, which single-handedly led to the most extensive shipyards the Federation had to date. Their construction infrastructure was in tatters.

It had come as a surprise, to be recalled almost immediately from the frontier. His stint aboard the Crazy Horse was supposed to be short. He didn’t realise it was supposed to be that short. You never said no to the President though, direct communique or not. Kieran had learned that very quickly. It was easier to decline a suggestion from a diplomat or two. Maybe even a chancellor from a homeworld. Not so much the leader of their ‘free’ society, which to be honest had been run to the bone. These days there were more arguments and threats of secession than any peace talks, or the encouragement of new prospects to join their quadrant-spanning community.

Back on Pacifica, things were a bit quieter he suspected. It was one of the first major assignments outside of Federation territory. Also quite possibly one of the quietest when it came to politics. He rolled his eyes. Politics were never quiet. Sure, they may go dormant for a few hours. Until the next Federal News Service broadcast.

Thumbing over the document sent his way, he grumbled. Kieran really didn’t want to make another trip out to New France, but at this rate it was looking as if he may have to. In the span of three months he’d visited it no less than on thirteen separate occassions. An unlucky number if you asked some cultures, of which he wasn’t too keen to repeat any time soon. It wasn’t that the colony was dreadful — anything but. It was remote, quiet and beautiful. Not at all clouded by modern society’s hustle, and aside from one major city the planet itself was still almost entirely nature-bound.

Given any other circumstances, he may have relished the opportunity to get away at such a place. Enjoy the quiet. Not when he had a deadline, however. The chronometre on his right wrist chirped uncomfortably as he flinched, being one cup of tea far too shy to deal with the next appointment. “Nachtgeist, the President wants you in their office in two minutes,” his badge echoed, waiting for a response.

Kieran looked at his watch once more, twitching. This was supposed to be his break. His next appointment wasn’t until half an hour from now, where he once again had to go in front of the council. Looking from his current spot, he recognised the structure containing the office was at least a six minute walk, if he didn’t beam over. Something he’d never been particularly fond of, far preferring to fly something.

“I’m on my—” He sighed openly, cut off part way through his acknowledgement.

“Nevermind. An appointment just came up. Bring the up-to-date report to the desk on the landing,” the chief of staff grumbled audibly through the connection. “I’ll get Rhonda to try to get you another appointment.”