MSPNPC Erbil — And, well, that’s another story, never mind
Yogan Yalu
(( Erbil’s Office, Da’al Government Complex, Vman ))
The flyover left Erbil shaken to his core and emotionally spent. Almost immediately after the impact, he’d been provided images from orbit and from various viewpoints throughout the city. He thought he was prepared for the flyover. He was wrong.
Seeing Tecra, what remained of it, with his own eyes was sobering. It provoked a visceral response in the jaded old bureaucrat, and the image of the charred, blackened terrain remained even when he closed his eyes.
The casualty estimates continued to rise as rescue teams inched further into the impact zone and survivors reported their loved ones missing. Starfleet assured them that help was on the way. Erbil obsessively checked his timepiece. Help could not come soon enough.
With a few precious moments to himself, Erbil paced his office and practiced what he would say to the Federation representatives when they arrived. Already, leaders of a dozen different factions had called his office with “advice” on how he should greet the captain of the USS Artemis. The recommendations were mutually exclusive. How could he greet the Federation with open arms, while simultaneously telling them to piss off back to their corner of the galaxy? How could he ask for their expertise while at the same time restricting them to non-sensitive areas?
Erbil knew his people. The Da’al always honored negotiation and compromise. Or, at least, they used to. Somewhere along the way, some of his people stopped wanting to work together. Erbil was old school. He didn’t know how to deal with the new factions seemingly springing up every day who refused to negotiate.
After so much pacing that he was certain to have worn a tread in the carpet, Erbil leaned wearily against his desk. His shoulders slumped. His back cracked.
Erbil: Captain MacKenzie, I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. ::beat:: No, Erbil, that’s so cliché. ::clears throat:: Captain MacKenzie, let me make one thing perfectly clear: You are here on the invitation of the Interim Government, and that invitation can be revoked at any time. ::beat:: Come on, Erbil, that’s stupid. What’s to stop them from just turning around and leaving?
He couldn’t think of anything to say that would appease all the factions, so he practiced speaking from his heart instead.
Erbil: Welcome to our planet, Captain MacKenzie. And thank you for coming to our aid.
The door chime interrupted Erbil at just the moment when he ran out of things to say. The disaster waited for no Da’al.
Erbil: Come in.
One of his staffers, Upovitt, poked his head through the door.
Upovitt: Excuse me, Interim Minister, but I’ve been asked to bring you to one of the drawing rooms in the central complex. The Starfleet teams will be arriving soon and the interim prime minister has asked you to greet them there.
Erbil didn’t envy the interim prime minister. For all the directions Erbil felt himself pulled in, he knew the factions were tugging and jostling the prime minister even more.
Erbil: Lead the way, my good man.
TBC
Da’al Erbil
Interim External Relations Minister
Da’al Interim Government
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