Ambassador Buford & Cmdr. Stergis - Variable Approach PT1
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Karrod Niac
Jun 30, 2023, 8:19:00 PM6/30/23
to USS Arrow – StarBase 118 Star Trek PBEM RPG
((Arboretum, Module A, Deep Space 33))
In his years with the Federation Diplomatic Corp, Samuel had learned many languages and forms of expressions, unwilling to entirely trust the translator technology that enabled simple communication for so many. Simple, he scoffed often and loudly, was the death of nuance. Nuance was, in every practical way, his stock and trade. The subtle inflection, the shaded tone, the couched expression - each a vital part of a diplomats vocabulary. To know when to press or when to concede, to find a path of compromise on the other side of mistrust and disagreement, was his life's work.
And these idiots were absolutely determined to screw it all up.
Buford: No no, you can't put the Lanthian iris in a circle like that, Sheliak find artistic depictions of simple geometric shapes intellectually insulting! Get them moved, now!
A beleaguered Starfleet crewman looked towards Commander Stergis at his side and, with what Buford was certain to be a lack of general competence, set to moving the heavy planters.
For the fourth time.
His Starfleet Liason officer spoke up, interrupting his complex mental preparations for the meeting to come.
Stergis: Nervous, Ambassador?
Buford clucked and looked towards the woman with the expression of a greatly put upon parent speaking to a slow child.
Buford: Of course not, Commander, I'm certain that if you can suitably motivate this rabble ::He nodded towards the numerous Starfleet crew, scrambling about the chamber, making final preparations he'd recently changed:: they're capable of executing my vision. Then, once the delegations arrive, we'll be able to begin the real work.
His sanctimonious tone demonstrated just how far he felt these efforts were from whatever he considered to be the 'real' work. Agatha bristled, but said none of what immediately occurred to her for fear of ending her career. Instead, she focused on something else she was irritated by.
Stergis: I understand a large portion of the Arrow's senior staff is coming aboard, including their Captain. I didn't think you wanted him within a few lightyears of these talks, sir.
Buford laughed but none of the humor was spared for Agatha, like a man joking about a small joke he'd just made to himself.
Buford: Actually, Commander, I requested his presence and that of his staff myself. You'll find it can be quite advantageous to have unpredictable elements near to hand in a situation like this. Now, instead of the Arrow's Captain stirring up trouble from the bridge of their ship, galivanting off to some fresh conflict, he'll be here forcing a smile and witnessing just how diplomatically outclassed he is.
Agatha hated politics. She hated the power games and the attitudes and the clashes of personality that so often dominated the spaces, the confident ideologies and smug intellectualism justifying enormous egos. She especially hated it when, like now, she was certain it was disrupting Starfleet operations in a precarious situation. As much as it galled her, for she had her own issues with the Arrow's intelligence officer, she had to do something about it. She plastered on one of those fake smiles the Ambassador seemed to like and tried to sound reaffirming.
Stergis: In that case, why don't you let me handle the Arrow's crew. You'll have their Captain well under control and the delegates to speak with, I can keep the rest of their staff out of your hair.
Buford waved a hand dismissively, his attention on bunting hanging askew on the far wall.
Buford: Fine fine, just keep them from being a nuisance. ::His attention shifted entirely:: No no, that has to be at a thirty two degree angle, not thirty five! Did you even read the cultural sensitivity briefing regarding Ferengi numerical superstition?!
Buford stalked off, determined that everything should be as perfect as it looked in his mind. The delegates would be here in hours and, with the Starfleet Captain suitably muzzled, he was certain that an accord could be struck between the conflicting parties. So certain, in fact, he'd already begun considering opening remarks that he could deliver to the Federation Council when they recognized him for his fine service.
Agatha, with dreams far less grand and far more practical, simply took the opportunity to detach herself from the meddlesome diplomat and make her way back to ops.
TBC!
In his years with the Federation Diplomatic Corp, Samuel had learned many languages and forms of expressions, unwilling to entirely trust the translator technology that enabled simple communication for so many. Simple, he scoffed often and loudly, was the death of nuance. Nuance was, in every practical way, his stock and trade. The subtle inflection, the shaded tone, the couched expression - each a vital part of a diplomats vocabulary. To know when to press or when to concede, to find a path of compromise on the other side of mistrust and disagreement, was his life's work.
And these idiots were absolutely determined to screw it all up.
Buford: No no, you can't put the Lanthian iris in a circle like that, Sheliak find artistic depictions of simple geometric shapes intellectually insulting! Get them moved, now!
A beleaguered Starfleet crewman looked towards Commander Stergis at his side and, with what Buford was certain to be a lack of general competence, set to moving the heavy planters.
For the fourth time.
His Starfleet Liason officer spoke up, interrupting his complex mental preparations for the meeting to come.
Stergis: Nervous, Ambassador?
Buford clucked and looked towards the woman with the expression of a greatly put upon parent speaking to a slow child.
Buford: Of course not, Commander, I'm certain that if you can suitably motivate this rabble ::He nodded towards the numerous Starfleet crew, scrambling about the chamber, making final preparations he'd recently changed:: they're capable of executing my vision. Then, once the delegations arrive, we'll be able to begin the real work.
His sanctimonious tone demonstrated just how far he felt these efforts were from whatever he considered to be the 'real' work. Agatha bristled, but said none of what immediately occurred to her for fear of ending her career. Instead, she focused on something else she was irritated by.
Stergis: I understand a large portion of the Arrow's senior staff is coming aboard, including their Captain. I didn't think you wanted him within a few lightyears of these talks, sir.
Buford laughed but none of the humor was spared for Agatha, like a man joking about a small joke he'd just made to himself.
Buford: Actually, Commander, I requested his presence and that of his staff myself. You'll find it can be quite advantageous to have unpredictable elements near to hand in a situation like this. Now, instead of the Arrow's Captain stirring up trouble from the bridge of their ship, galivanting off to some fresh conflict, he'll be here forcing a smile and witnessing just how diplomatically outclassed he is.
Agatha hated politics. She hated the power games and the attitudes and the clashes of personality that so often dominated the spaces, the confident ideologies and smug intellectualism justifying enormous egos. She especially hated it when, like now, she was certain it was disrupting Starfleet operations in a precarious situation. As much as it galled her, for she had her own issues with the Arrow's intelligence officer, she had to do something about it. She plastered on one of those fake smiles the Ambassador seemed to like and tried to sound reaffirming.
Stergis: In that case, why don't you let me handle the Arrow's crew. You'll have their Captain well under control and the delegates to speak with, I can keep the rest of their staff out of your hair.
Buford waved a hand dismissively, his attention on bunting hanging askew on the far wall.
Buford: Fine fine, just keep them from being a nuisance. ::His attention shifted entirely:: No no, that has to be at a thirty two degree angle, not thirty five! Did you even read the cultural sensitivity briefing regarding Ferengi numerical superstition?!
Buford stalked off, determined that everything should be as perfect as it looked in his mind. The delegates would be here in hours and, with the Starfleet Captain suitably muzzled, he was certain that an accord could be struck between the conflicting parties. So certain, in fact, he'd already begun considering opening remarks that he could deliver to the Federation Council when they recognized him for his fine service.
Agatha, with dreams far less grand and far more practical, simply took the opportunity to detach herself from the meddlesome diplomat and make her way back to ops.
TBC!
==================================================
Archibald Samuel Buford the Third
Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary, Federation Council
Federation Diplomatic Service
Deep Space Thirty Three
&
Commander Agatha Stergis
Starfleet Liaison Officer
Deep Space Thirty Three
V239509GT0
Archibald Samuel Buford the Third
Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary, Federation Council
Federation Diplomatic Service
Deep Space Thirty Three
&
Commander Agatha Stergis
Starfleet Liaison Officer
Deep Space Thirty Three
V239509GT0
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