A Historic Invitation... In Salt (AMW only)

[Tahuantinsuyu Empire]

Qusqu, Naval of the World, July, 2009

More than two miles above sea level, a city of more than a third of a million people -and one solar deity-, capital of the largest pre-European civilisation in the Americas, stages for the first time a spectacle aimed not at the more than fifty million subjects of the empire that surrounds it but at the international community of nations.

This is chahua-huarquiz, the ploughing month, and while many cultures prefer to celebrate the harvest, the people of this empire hold festivals for each of their calendar's twelve thirty-day months, including this time of preparation for the planting of a new harvest. It is on this occasion that the Sapa Inka chose in this year, for reasons perhaps best known to himself, to break four hundred years of silence.

Guacamaya Inka Tupac, known to his people -behind his back- as the parrot king, sent forth a proclamation.

"The wealth that we -Inti willing- reap in return for our labours in the ploughing begun today shall be the envy of the unenlightened world. The forty years of warfare prosecuted by the barbarians against the children of the sun has been repaid with four hundred years of darkness. By the will of Inti and Quilla I declare an end to this eclipse, and order that the light of Inti be allowed to shine upon the savage lands beyond the four corners!

"I shall receive guests from the dark lands, and we shall determine whether four hundred years in the cold has seen the barbarian ready to learn the virtues of honesty, fairness, and labour. If it is so, we shall do trade. If it is not, we may do war."

A great roar of support went up in the assembly of a hundred thousand subjects in the centre of the sacred city, their erratic -desperately inbred- ruler having finally made a genuinely interesting decision, and in days to come a great invitation was marked out.

Qollasuyu, the Southeastern Quarter

It was on the face of the largest salt flats in the world, near Mount Tunupa, that the empire chose to make its first formal attempt at renewed contact with the barbarian princes who shivered beyond Inti's embrace. A huge script was written into the earth there in three languages, its characters many metres high. Having encountered writing in what most of the world would call the early sixteenth century, the Inka had since developed their own methods for writing in their own languages. The same thing was spelled out in Quechua -the language of state-, Aymara -the local tongue-, and finally in Spanish -all be it slightly corrupted and dated-, which remained the foreign language most familiar to Inka scholars, though none were sure it hadn't already died out.

"Come now, all your princes' emissaries, to Cusco!"

"Now" said an apparently somewhat disbelieving Sapa Inka, "if they truly have eyes in the sky, let them read!"

And so the waiting began. Eventually, some satellite calibration team or other was bound to get a great surprise.

[Gurguvungunit]

Woomera Spaceflight Center, Dominion of Australia

The British Empire Space Association had a logo. This logo was displayed, in seven foot tall painting form, on the outside of the main BESA administrative/control center on what had been, until recently, the Woomera Test Range. Now renamed, the Woomera Spaceflight Center was still largely a flat, dry desert with a largeish quonset huts and a tarmac. A rather expansive construction zone existed on the unused portions of the range, and the majority of the human population of the Woomera Spaceflight Center spent its time engaged in work appropriate for large men in yellow helmets.

But, let us return to the logo. It featured a trident and shield, upon which had been painted the multiple bars of the Union Flag. The trident, positioned vertically behind the shield, pointed upward toward a field of stars which gave off the distinct air of twinkling mystery despite being painted in primary colors. This logo, as stated, adorned the command center of BESA, which in all other respects was an uncharming building made of white-painted concrete. In many ways, the organization formed to promote and investigate human spaceflight and interplanetary colonization had not lived up to its goal as yet. Without a dedicated spaceflight vehicle or launch pad, BESA existed at the moment to divert funds from aircraft carriers and public health, much to the irritation of just about everyone. It was, however, early days. BESA's first anniversary would come in five months and two weeks, and it was hoped that the large men in the yellow hats would have made some progress on the new research laboratories across the way by that time. Until then, BESA's space related duties were essentially combined with those of the Royal Air Force–the monitoring and occasional replacing of satellites.

Pursuant to that, six amphitheaters within the BESA main complex monitored various satellite groups. These amphitheaters were liberally provided with computer monitors, wall-sized screens and status reports, retrofitted within the last few months to make use of the first year's appropriation of ten billion pounds. About a hundred men and women occupied an amphitheater, properly known as a satellite control room, at a given time. Of these, a good twenty or thirty were RAF officers and NCOs, many of whom tended toward the spare, gawky and bell-curve-defyingly intelligent. These were not rugged pilots from recruiting posters, or friendly and suspiciously pneumatic WAAFs who promised equality and suggested a sort of bizarre, militarized sexual revolution. These were men and women who politely declined to be photographed, wore glasses that distorted light in alarming ways, and occasionally failed to groom themselves capably. They were very, very smart, and tended more toward a fascination with electronics than a predilection to doing violence with guided munitions.

It was one of these men, a Group Captain David S. Percy, who saw something quite strange. He was tasked with the charming job of reviewing exactly three frames from RAF spy satellites to ensure that their cameras still functioned. Because the satellites within his area did not exist, according to RAF command, their monitoring was given to Percy, the holder of a rather alarming security clearance that allowed him to know that his government was spying–quite effectively–on the United States of Quinntonia. He scanned through dozens of interesting but familiar pictures of a USAF ground station in New Mexico, several submarine pens along the gulf coast, some extremely high-resolution photographs of Andrews Air Force Base, and a great many photos of the Panama Canal and environs. The spy photographs widened in scope to show a nuclear reactor in Canada that did not exist, a covert base in one of the northern bits of the Amazon that technically belonged to another nation, and a few pictures of the Americas that probably had little to do with the United States. One of these photographs was of a Peruvian plain, and it was usually quite featureless, since it belonged to the Incan Empire.

The Incan Empire was not really an interest to the RAF's intelligence branch, since that nation didn't really possess much of a fixed-wing air arm. Indeed, the jet engine was still considered quite novel and interesting, since there were no obvious moving parts. Moreover, the Incan Empire did not consider the rest of the world to be worth its notice, and so it was unlikely that it would pose a threat. The satellite that photographed this particular part of the Peruvian plain did so because somewhere, someone with many bars on his shoulders thought it would be an interesting use of a few thousand pounds to inspect the local wildlife, and anyway the budget of the RAF was massive enough that it could be written off as paperclips. Or something.

Today, however, it seemed that the Inca were desirous of outside contact. Instead of using the telephone, which might or might not be considered some form of horrible witchcraft antithetical to our free and most civilized society, the Incan Empire had made use of the latest in international communications technology that had fully permeated its governmental structure. They had written their message in some sort of white stuff that looked suspiciously like salt.

Now, Group Captain Percy was a very intelligent man, and he had done well in school. Accordingly, he spoke modern Spanish passably well, to the degree that he could inquire most politely as to the location of alcohol and whores if he were stationed somewhere in which Spanish was the local language. He could also do other things, but these were often foremost in his mind. Unsurprisingly, the Inca had nothing to say about either topic, but he was able to puzzle out something that looked like an invitation of some sort. This being unusual, he picked up the desk telephone and made a series of phone calls.

The Foreign Office, London

"Salt?" Christina Lloyd was torn between amusement and a vague sense of insult. It was not really standard practice to issue diplomatic invitations in condiments. On the other side of her desk, rather cluttered with coffee cups, files and coins of small denomination, stood one of the various undersecretaries in charge of the Americas. He was a young man who had spent years in school preparing for a position in the Foreign Service, held degrees in international studies, and had written extensively in journals regarding the challenges and relative importance of dealing with governments of radically different political structure. When he had been assigned the Incan Empire–properly called Tahuantinsuyu–he had been quite pleased. The Inca were a historically insular kingdom, and the first nation to establish a rapport with them would benefit heavily in terms of trade. It was not an opportunity to be passed up.

"They sent a message in Salt?" The undersecretary observed his boss with frustration. The Inca were breaking their longstanding insularity, acknowledging the world for the first time in four centuries, and Christina Lloyd was hung up on salt.

"Yes, ma'am. I believe that this is an attempt on the part of the Inca to demonstrate the ability to engage in large-scale engineering, a reminder that with enough people, they can rival the west in terms of national undertaking. It's a show of force, if an unconventional one." Christina's mouth quirked.

"A show of force, with salt." The undersecretary sighed.

"Well, yes." He produced a modest stack of paper from his briefcase. "Before I joined the Foreign Office, ma'am, I did a great deal of research on the Incan Empire." He paused, waiting for an interjection about fish and chips, or somesuch. When it did not come, the undersecretary continued. "It wasn't easy, they've been quite careful to prevent engagement with the world. I believe that they see this as a punishment to us, that is to say, to the West, since we are in their opinion barbarians. This goes back to the attempted Spanish conquest, but that can wait until later. The point is, the Inca are an extremely proud people, but they lack the technological ability to engage on normal terms with the world. Moreover, while I'm sure things like the telephone have penetrated their isolation, they do not desire to engage the West on its own terms, as it were, using Western technology. They want to engage us on their terms, which means a very different approach." Christina's smirk remained, but during this monologue she had leaned forward, and a glint in her eyes suggested interest.

"So, what to your recommend?" The undersecretary allowed himself a grin of triumph. Finally!

"Well, ma'am, I suggest that we send an envoy. Not an ambassador," he said hurriedly. The Foreign Service was filled with people who would fall under the general category of extremely capable, but they would be commoners, not considered worthy of speaking to the Sun King. Moreover, the ruler of the Incan Empire most probably suffered from a number of psychological problems brought on by a restricted genetic pool, and was unpredictable. He explained all of this to Christina. "I suggest that we send someone from the Royal Family. Specifically," he paused, unsure for the first time. "Specifically, I suggest that we send Her Majesty, since she has the best claim to being the Sun King's equal, owing to being an Empress in her own right. She is also an extremely talented negotiator, as you must recall, ma'am." Christina's grin had faded during his explanation, replaced with a look of cautious resignation.

"Mister Harley," she said at some length, using the undersecretary's name for the first time that he could remember. "Are you suggesting that I prevail upon the Queen of Great Britain to go to a remote, isolationist theocracy and negotiate with an inbred maniac?" Undersecretary Harley pursed his lips, and his throat performed an action uncomfortably similar to a gulp.

"Yes, ma'am." Christina sighed.

"Get out, Mister Harley." He turned to go, dejected. On balance, that might not have been the most tactful way of making the suggestion. "And Harley?" He paused, not particularly relishing the tongue-lashing to come. "Have a full report on my desk tomorrow morning. If I'm going to have to sell this to Andrew and the Queen, you'd better give me a damned good argument." He failed magnificently to suppress a smile.

"Yes, ma'am."

Cusco, Tahuantinsuyu

The letter arrived two days later, shipped at great expense across the ocean. It was addressed simply: H.M. The Divine Guacamaya Inka Tupac, Emperor of Tahuantinsuyu, along with the relevant postal information. It would doubtless make a number of circuitous journeys through the machine of the Inca government, but this was to be expected. Within the envelope was the following script, printed on unreasonably thick paper with some sort of machine that actually impressed the letters, no doubt cut from the finest Italian marble, into the page.

Office of the Queen
Dieu et mon droit.

His Most Divine Majesty Guacamaya Inka Tupac,
It is with pleasure that the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Empire accepts your most generous offer of audience. As befits the dignity and power of Your Most August Personage, We shall attend personally with the intention of fostering a positive relationship between Our Empire and Your Own. If it is acceptable to Your Majesty, We will be accompanied by a small contingent of diplomatic advisers and the Armed Guard that is, according to Our Nation's Laws, required to accompany Us to any foreign destination. We may assure you that Our guard will submit to all reasonable restrictions which Your Majesty wishes to put in place, and will not enter Your Majesty's Presence while carrying any sort of Weapon or Implement of Destruction.

It is Our most sincere hope that this meeting will present opportunities to engage in Diplomatic and Economic relations. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Empire is a nation dedicated to Peace and Co-operation with all Nations and States as are willing to treat with it in a manner befitting the Civilized and Enlightened Congress between Sovereign Peoples.
With Regard,
Her Majesty Victoria II,
By the Grace of God, of Great Britain, Ireland and the British Dominions beyond the Seas Queen, Defender of the Faith, Empress of India, Duchess of Lancaster, Lady of Mann, Duchess of Normandy, Sovereign of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath, Sovereign of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle, Sovereign of the Most Illustrious Order of Saint Patrick, Sovereign of the Most Distinguished Order of Saint Michael and Saint George, Sovereign of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, Sovereign of the Distinguished Service Order, Sovereign of the Imperial Service Order, Sovereign of the Most Exalted Order of the Star of India, Sovereign of the Most Eminent Order of the Indian Empire, Sovereign of the Order of British India, Sovereign of the Indian Order of Merit, Sovereign of the Order of Burma, Sovereign of the Royal Order of Victoria and Albert, Sovereign of the Royal Family Order of King Edward VII, Sovereign of the Order of Mercy, Sovereign of the Order of Merit, Sovereign of the Order of the Companions of Honour, Sovereign of the Royal Victorian Order, Sovereign of the Most Venerable Order of the Hospital of St John of Jerusalem, etc.

[Tahuantinsuyu Empire]

The arrival of the British communiqué in Qusqu was itself by one of history's more remarkable journies.

For an island nation such as Britain, which had built and still maintained an intercontinental empire chiefly by the many virtues of its storied naval service, the Inkas' attitude towards the high seas may be especially difficult to comprehend. For all the might of their armies, the Inkas had never in their history even attempted to build a navy of any sort. Small, unpowered reed boats -though built with considerable skill- continued to ferry people to and from islands, both off the coast and upon bodies such as Lake Titicaca, and bore fishermen on the same waters, but even the fishing fleet failed to take full advantage of the exclusive economic claims that the Empire could have made, had it bothered to represent itself internationally before this month.

Despite the early victory over Pizarro and the eventual securing of the empire's independence, the 'Age of Christian Aggression' as it was remembered here, which had lasted for some forty or so years during the sixteenth century, saw many defeats and near defeats for native armies that were repeatedly outflanked by amphibious operations against which they consistantly failed to prepare. The defenders never seemed to fully understand how an army positioned on land in front of their defensive position could, without engaging said defences, then come from the sea as a means to get behind it. One assumes that the apparent logical disconnect was in fact not quite so simple, but certainly the effects remained much the same, and even today the whole empire's extensive maritime front is without anything more substantial by way of infrastructure than can be provided by a fishing port.

Once the letter got ashore, a second problem could have arisen in the Andean obscurity endured by the English language. The Yachayhuasis, Qusqu's universities, had it that English appeared to have been spoken by somebody rather disliked by the Spanish, which was certainly something in the favour of its speakers but didn't help anyone in Tahuantinsuyu to learn the language.

'Fortunately', for all the success of the Empire's efforts at keeping people out, there had unavoidably been an intermittent leak, and 'defectors' had carried out information in dribs and drabs, and kept alive international knowledge of the numerous dialects of the imperial Quechuan language. Perhaps the latest spelling reforms had yet to catch international attention, but a faux pax at that level would at worst allow a superior noble to curl his lip at the rude barbarian, and the content of a sentence would survive the error.

Those who brought the letter ashore had been detained at a little fishing Aylu in the north for more than a week before a reply was brought to them. Potato stew, fish, and maize beer would have become quite familiar to them by the time they were released and told to confirm Victoria's invitation to Qusqu. There had been a period of confusion during which it was assumed that the couriers were in fact the British emissaries, and this, plus the court's careful scrutiny of the communiqué, had been chiefly responsible for the delay.

OOC: I'm just assuming the letter was written in Quechua, as it would probably be known to the British that émigrés from Tahuantinsuyu -while it may not be surprising that peasants (as most émigrés are) don't speak English- have never even heard of English, and even the few ex-pats who came out with moderate education under their belts might be vaguely familiar with a few Spanish terms while still not knowing that such a language as English ever existed.

[Beth Gellert]

The Beddgelens were rather slower than the British in spotting Qusqu's invitation, which irked many in the People's Cosmonautical Co-operative. It was an unwelcome reminder that while the PCC had been getting all excited about its record US$2.5bln budget for 2009, BESA was playing about with four times that many British pounds. Clearly, Beddgelen satellites were seriously outnumbered up there, and none of this was good for Akink's hopes of selling its supposedly considerable space expertise to fledgling programmes abroad. It had actually been hoped that the British themselves might send some cash the BDR's way in exchange for the benefits of several decades experience that included seeing three Geletians in space.

One of the organisation's dwindling fleet of badly aged satellites was over the Inka Empire for yet another recalibration after its tired old remote sensors were believed to have wandered again from their intended settings when the saline anomaly was detected by operators at the PCC's formative new facility in in Tamil Eelam.

Back in the BDR, considerable excitement was generated by the discovery and the prospect of official contact with what Graeme Igo had once called, "the world's first socialist empire", and a mission was quickly assembled with Chairman of the Council of Ministers Braeden Apcarr at its head. The delegation would travel aboard a new Trincomalee Class frigate, in part making a point about the increasing reach of a Beddgelen navy with more than brown-water ambitions, and, all being well, the Chairman would be ferried ashore by helicopter.

[The Crooked Beat]

Daylam, Parsistan

Foreign ministry officials certainly made no effort to suppress the recent news from Tahuantinsuyu, and newspapers in the capital caused quite a stir as they circulated satellite images of Guacamaya Tupac's very unusual salt communique. Parsistan was by no means the first nation to detect the Inkan invitation, learning of the discovery from British sources well before the Republic's own spy satellites, usually not preoccupied with surveys over the Atacama, would have found it themselves, and it came as quite a surprise. Information regarding the secretive, fiercely insular Inkan Empire was extremely scarce, after all, and South America a low priority for the Parsistani intelligence services to begin with. Faced with nuclear-armed Kievan Rus just across the Caspian, and its gang of Feudalist cohorts, on top of what the Republicans consider a dangerously-independent Viceregal India ideally-placed to blockade the Strait of Hormoz, Daylam could hardly be blamed for its disinterest in American affairs, and most in the Foreign Ministry, though interested in the workings of perhaps the world's last remaining hermit kingdom, must concede that finite resources might be better spent elsewhere.

But they would have to send someone, if for no other reason than to ascertain Inkan intentions and to make certain that other diplomatic expeditions did not threaten Parsistani interests and this task, predictably, fell to the head of the ministry's South America section. Shahnour Gasparyan was the archetypal Foreign Ministry employee; short, rotund, bookish and balding, with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, he tended to mix best with academics spent much of his spare time translating texts. A born linguist, Gasparyan was one of very few Parsistanis fluent in Spanish, fluent in obsolete dialects at that, so the tall stack of materials relating to Guacamaya's invitation landed on the section head's desk. Gasparyan was not at all displeased by this additional workload, nor was he upset by news that the higher-ups were going to let him personally select, instruct and lead the Republic's diplomatic mission to Cuzco. The Inkan Empire was a huge blank space, untouched, as far as Gasparyan knew, by external researchers and thus prime territory for extensive and productive study, and not only for the benefit of Parsistan's national interest.

Gasparyan set to organizing his expedition immediately, remaining cloistered in his basement office until late in the evening. It was clear that he would need a whole battery of specialists for such a sensitive assignment, linguists and anthropologists, and that any expedition, once on Inka territory, would tread very lightly or court disaster. In his own mind, Gasparyan began to assemble a list of candidates for his mission, while his secretary went about writing an official reply for Cuzco's consumption. In wording, it was normal enough, but Gasparyan spent hours translating, attempting to reproduce the document in the same three languages that Guacamaya used in his own address. His Spanish went fairly easily, but for the Aymara and Quechua, some outside help was unavoidable, and even then the Inkas may have some trouble making sense of the final copy. Foreign Ministry officials are, however, somewhat confused as to how exactly the communique ought to be delivered, and it ultimately falls on some lowly consular official to deliver the document by hand, directly to the Empire's land border.

Provided Gasparyan's response ever reaches the Sapa Inka, it should inform him that Parsistan, rendered as a "People's Kingdom" by a translator struggling to express "Republic," intends to dispatch a delegation, and sets their expected date of arrival. Gasparyan was on one hand very much looking forward to his arrival in the land of the Incas, but, on the other, was apprehensive. Any number of things, after all, might go wrong, and a faux pas in front of the Sapa Inka could very well mean the end of Gasparyan and the rest. It would, no doubt, be a memorable experience.

[Gurguvungunit]

*poke*

[Tahuantinsuyu Empire]

OOC: Oh, look! Responses!

A Communist, Queen Victoria the Second, and a fat linguist walk into The Navel of the World...

Qusqu, Tawantinsuyu

"So!" Squawked the Sapa Inka. "There are only three nations left in the world? And the Spanish are not amongst them! Ah ha, so our victory did enable the English to finish them!" He added with delight, extrapolating somewhat from the trio of responses his unusual outreach programme had thus far garnered.

"Ah, Mama Occla, I wish that you could be here to enjoy this with me!" He cawed. "I know, I know, you are above such earthly things as princes and barbarians!"

Guacamaya Inka Tupac was now out on the balcony, looking over the Haukaypata, a portion of the capital's main plaza in which the most important festival of the year had recently been held. In hindsight, perhaps inviting the foreigners to witness that would have been more impressive to them.

People of the empire had fasted and abstained from any form of physical pleasure, showing that the barbarous lands knew nothing of real religious devotion, as they waited for no fewer than nine days of celebration, which involved marching the Sapa Inka up a mountain on a litter made of gold to the fortress of Sacsayhuamán, where animal sacrifice had been performed and feasting been enjoyed at the Inka's expense.

In any case, it was time to move on with things. The foreigners were arriving. A Beddgelen helicopter was causing great alarm on the coast, and there could be little doubt that the arrivals of the British and Parsis would be similarly showy affairs, and so all of their delegations in need of humbling before the Sapa Inka.

In Qusqu's main square, the word "¡Aqui!" written in highly visible salt invited the foreigners to meet their hosts here, though apparently those hosts had not realised that a helicopter landing, if undertaken in the square by the first arrivals, would destroy the carefully laid message and likely lead to tears being shed all around.

Hundreds of soldiers were out with the Sapa Inka as he eventually made his way into the square, accompanied by his Army General, Ozcollo, and the Willaq Uma, or high priest. The Inka wore the finest fabrics, which had an impressive thread-count for hand-woven items and were dazzlingly colourful, and an even more imposing headdress made with the feathers of everything from the mighty condor to the so-called inca tern and the rock parakeet.

His soldiers were barely less striking in quilted tunics resembling black and white chequerboards topped with a deep red triangle around the neck, black hair styled according to the regional origin of each recruit, and steel helmets with similarly elaborate crests. Many, formed up in an obviously ceremonial order, held long steel-tipped spears adorned with colourful feathers for much of their length, and small shields covered in decoration, and had matchlock pistols on their belts. Others shouldered arquebus-like long-arms and had on their belts melee weapons including knives, maces, and swords. Further back in the massed ranks, other soldiers holding spears had slings on their belts, while those with melee weapons at the hip were holding long steel bows.

Thousands of eyes lingered on the sky...

[The Crooked Beat]

Qusqu

Though resolved at least to send the Inkans a small diplomatic delegation, the Foreign Ministry was entirely baffled by the problem of physically delivering those diplomats to the Inkan capital, given at least the miniscule budget allocated for the task. Initially, the Parsistanis were to be parachuted in from an over-flying aircraft, but this idea was quickly dismissed when officials considered the sheer amount of training that Gasparyan's team would need for a static line jump, to say nothing of a steerable-canopy descent that would allow them to land with any sort of accuracy. The defense ministry, moreover, was reluctant to divert one of its warships for the assignment, and the Foreign Minister, considering the project's low priority, himself saw no reason to argue. After nearly a week of agonizing over how exactly to deliver Gasparyan and his delegation to the Inkan capital, the method ultimately chosen by the Foreign Ministry came, quite rightly, as a considerable surprise to those involved, and all but devoured the operation's monetary resources.

So it was that, off the Inkan coast, quite possibly the first CAM ship built in years, and probably the smallest, steered into the wind and shot a small Pioneer spotter plane off its bow. Loaded down with four occupants and a not-insignificant store of baggage, the aircraft climbed only reluctantly, at first sweeping low over the wave-tops, and finally disappeared from view over the Inkan mainland, still climbing in preparation for the inevitable Andean hurdle.

Less a few kilograms of personal effects, but otherwise having taken the Andes in stride, the Pioneer arrives over the Inkan capital at about midday, and overflies the city's main square at low altitude before settling into a circular pattern, as the pilot attempts to judge the best approach for a landing. It may not be a helicopter, but the Scottish Aviation Pioneer is possessed of excellent short-field performance, and is more than capable of landing in under 70 meters, perhaps less in a headwind, but such a landing will still take all of the pilot's skill. With flaps fully extended, motor switched off, and pointed into the wind, the Pioneer drops to the ground with unexpected grace, given the conditions, and rolls to a stop as quick as the pilot, an ex-Air Force man named Kamenev, can manage.

If the Sapa Inka found his Parsistani guests somewhat underwhelming, he could hardly be blamed, Kamenev's skillful landing aside. Gasparyan, after all, did not want to cause Guacamaya Tupac any undue anxiety, and the four men -Gasparyan, the pilot Kamenev, radio operator Magsarjav, and anthropologist Batyr- were briefed extensively as extensively as possible in proper procedure and etiquette, though, given the state of available information, they may yet trip-up. Still attired in their flying gear, and carrying essential equipment, the four Parsistanis present themselves to the Sapa Inka.

[Nova Gaul]

Coastal Shoals off Tahuantinsuyu Empire

A limpid sunrise greeted the already brisk morning as the ARNS Tortuga* adjusted its course to cut parallel along the shores of the strange, savage land. All hands were at station, all hands were filled with at least some trepidation: this was the Royal Navy of New Spain’s furthest mission a-sea since its conception. On the rear deck of the vessel a Mil Mi-17 stood by, lashed to the deck; but the helicopter was obviously not the means certain envoys of the Court of Carlos II were using to arrive in the benighted Inca-esque nation. Indeed the helicopter as of now was tied down, its rotors in traveling position.

But just then over the ships starboard bow several simple longboats were being dropped into the calm, cool Pacific. They were simple indeed, merely twenty foot landing boats with a large out-board motor bolted to their sterns. With a loud vibrating whirring the three boats sped from the amphibious landing craft, making a bee line for the long and placid shoreline.

And on the lead boat, the head of their delta formation, a black robed priest proudly held a crucifix fixed to a pole aloft, as if to ward off evil from the landing party. His face was stern and unyielding, a pillar of faith, he well knew the fate that his predecessors had met in this cruel and unyielding pagan land.

On another boat were several nervous looking ponies, and a few donkeys, blinking here and there, wondering perhaps what in the hell they were doing away from their warm stables in Nueva España. On the other craft were three soldiers in heavy life vests, a camera crew, a medical doctor, and a man in a three piece business suit who held onto the boats stabilizing cords for his life, a Unexco Corporation Field Analyst.

In no time at all the boats were sliding along the wet sand, thence to disgorge their occupants on these forbidden shores.

Hitching up their gear to the beasts of burden the expedition set off single file to the city of Qusqu, deep in the interior of the South American land. Oh, but looks were very deceptive.

Where as the envoys of other lands came with this and that technology, some communists even jumping out of airplanes (unfortunately with parachutes), the New Spanish ‘explorers’ presented, on the surface, a level of sophistication barely above that of the Tahuantinsuyus. However, beneath the surface they were equipped with complex GPS tracking systems, with audio-visual connections to boot. As the donkey and pony caravan trudged along with its eight-man team, led by a resolute Padre Pio, the camera crew was taking detailed topographical accounts of the land, beaming accounts back to Intelligence Analysts on the Tortuga. The Unexco representative stopped every few miles, surreptitiously taking soil samples while stretching and tucking them away in his briefcase. They were on their way to an invitation given in salt, to be sure, but they figured by this route they would learn so much more about the mysterious Empire traveling on foot. Hopefully more than their Spanish ancestors had at least!

And, if they ran into trouble along the hundreds-mile trek, that was what the three soldados of El Ejército Real were for, strapped down as they were with FX-05s assault rifles, FN P90s sub-machine guns, and Beretta 92s aplenty. And, if worse came to worse, they could always call for a Mil-17 helicopter evacuation.

But of course they were simply here to open economic ties with the Tahuantinsuyus. That was why they had brought gifts of silk, avocado paste, plastic beads, tinned goods, pharmaceuticals (narcotic & antibiotic), and cigarette lighters with New Spanish cigarettes. Of course, that had to be it, economic ties! Of course…

So the expedition, sans pith helmets but for all the rest straight out of El Dorado, trudged off towards the vast Andes Mountains.

((Haven't quite got the knack of this new board system, so I'll just plug in my image below))
*ARNS Tortuga: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/b/b3/Papaloapan_P-441.jpg

[Tahuantinsuyu Empire]

Qusqu

As the little Parsistani aircraft puttered overhead, the Sapa Inka started hopping about and soon turned to hurry back indoors, holding his hands in the air as he went like a chimpanzee wading through water.

General Ozcollo and the Willaq Uma gritted their teeth and held their places, hoping to set an example to the soldiers and others on hand, many of whom were visibly flinching and clinging with white knuckles to their weapons or the arms of those beside them.

As the first guests alighted, the high priest approached, rustling and jangling as he went. Everyone attending was dressed to the nines in rainbow or chequered patterns and elaborate hairstyles. There were feathers and tassles tied around legs and set in headdresses, richly coloured capes, painted shields and decorated weapons, and as the Parsistanis and the high priest greeted each other whistles and flutes played near by. The Willaq Uma, Army General, and several others draped in gold and particularly fine fabrics also exhibited misshapen skulls formed with tight bindings during infancy.

"The Sapa Inka, Guacamaya Tupac, Only Son of the Sun, welcomes you to the Navel of the World as his guests, and shall receive you officially at tonight's banquet." Declared the priest. Not far away, Guacamaya Inka looked on, tittering to himself in excitement as he peered through a narrow, glassless window in an over-looking building.

Qontisuyu

Close to the centre of the empire, the approach of the Central American ship was noticed early by Qontisuyu fishermen who soon alerted the captains of their local ayllus. From there, the chasquis were dispatched towards Paccaritampu, the regional capital, just nine miles from Qusqu.

The approach of the launches was watched closely from shore as small fishing boats disappeared and villagers hid. With the immediate area all but deserted, the Catholics -whose proudly displayed cross was noted with concern by spying eyes- wouldn't immediately have their preconceptions challenged if they imagined a bare and sparsely peopled land.

As their caravan trudged through the province, its slow progress was in sharp contrast to that of the chasquis -the message runners- who had run rings around Pizarro's cavalry and now were quicker still thanks to their own use of horses -bred from a limited stock of captured steeds- over certain suitable stretches of their nation's ancient road network. Sinchi Yupanqui, Apu of Qontisuyu, was soon made aware of the Catholics, and, within two hours of this, word had reached General Ozcollo in the capital.

It was decided almost immediately that these foreigners would, for now, be kept apart from the rest, who should not be informed that the locals even knew of the Catholics' arrival.

Meanwhile, the New Spanish had acquired a number of hangers-on, though they probably didn't know it. The trees had eyes, and so too the mountains.

There were plenty of roads to be used if the travelers desired, but storehouses and outposts along the way would be invariably locked and apparently abandoned by the time they were reached, and they would have no overt company but themselves and the local wildlife, of which there was plenty.

[Vecron]

Rome, Roma

The Caesar gazed out on the grand Roman city with a look of pleasure. The sight always calmed him. That the city, which stood for more than a millenia continued to grow and the Roman Empire was once again strong and vibrant. He had watched the situation in South America quietly, but now decided that it was time to make his interest known. He turned around to his foreign affairs adviser Senator Servius Equitius, an older man with white hair and beard, trimmed very short in Roman fashion, dressed in a fine Armani suit, "Tell me, Senator," Caesar Romulus began, sitting down behind his desk, "who do you think would be best to send to the Incans?"

Equitius stood in thought for a second, "The choice would depend on what you want to come of a meeting with the Incans."

"I want them to know that Rome exists that we are strong and that it would in their best interest to relate with us on a friendly basis," Romulus said, slowly.

"Then I would suggest Senator Aulus Magnus."

"Magnus," Romulus said, searching his memory of all those who served in the Senate, "he's from Iberia isn't he? I hear he has some expansionist tendencies."

"True, but he can be a very valuable negotiator."

"Very well," Romulus said, "notify the Incans that we are sending our representative. And request permission for two Actis fighters to serve as escort for the Senator within the Incans airspace."

"Of course my lord, I will make the necessary arrangements." The old senator bowed and turned out of the Caesar's office.

About an hour later, as a jet lifted off from the Roman runway as two Roman fighters joined her in the air and made way for South America, a missive was sent to the Sapa Inka:

The Roman Caesar brings you greetings oh great leader of the Inca. Please accept the representative of the Roman Empire that is enroute to you. It is hoped that you would accept him warmly and with the arm of friendship that we here extend to you. God's blessing Sapa Inka,

Caesar Romulus

[Nova Gaul]

Simple the New Spanish delegation may have been, but stupid they were not.

At barely three miles from the shore and with no human contact, not so much as a squaw carrying water, Padre Pio ordered the column to a halt. It was a good thing too, because at that time a call came in on the two-way radio from the ARNS Tortuga. For one reason or another the word had come down from Ciudad Real that the expedition was to be recalled forthwith.

In fact the king’s ministers in El Palacio de Ayuntamiento, mindful of the supreme importance of an upcoming Quinntonian summit, and also not unaware of a troubling disturbance upon the island of Hispaniola, decided that at the present time the last thing Nueva España needed was to engage in a hectic mission in a unknown land. Especially, said the Foreign Minister El Duque de Coahuila Emilio de Villanueva, when then were so many international eyes on the exhibiting kingdom.

Better to wait until foreign eyes looked upon other things: a war in Europe, chaos in Africa, there would be no surplus of these sorts of things in times to come Ciudad Real believed.

And when they did, the New Spanish would return.

So with that, having contented themselves with some bravado limited though it was, the eight man team turned about and returned to the seashore. And again they boarded their boats, and again the Tortuga turned home to northerly waters.

But they brought the soil samples with them.

[Spyr]

The People’s Republic of Spyr viewed its network of reconnaissance satellites with a substantial amount of pride, and with good reason… while others wasted their efforts shooting citizens into the sky, the Spyrans had chosen the less glamorous (and less expensive) path of electronic eyes-in-the-sky. It was thus something of an embarrassment when the first news of the Inkan invitation came not from a satellite but from human intelligence channels, indicating that the British had spotted something of interest in the salt flats of South America.

By the time the Spyrans had secured photographs of their own, and managed a translation (of the Spanish, at least… while the presence of Roman Spain and Nueva Espana on the world stage meant that language was familiar to the Spyran intelligence community, the same could hardly be said for Quechua), other powers were well on their way towards sending out emissaries and expeditions.

The Inkan invitation, and an appropriate response to it, was the subject of much debate within the upper echelons of the Strainist Party. While socialist Spyr stood in ideological opposition to the feudal system still practiced amongst the Inka, up until now it had been thought best to let sleeping dogs lie… better that empire be left to its self-imposed isolation, rather than provoked into alliance with Kiev by Progressive interference. Those in the Party’s left wing argued that, if the Inka were now planning to emerge, revolutionary activity ought be launched immediately, before the imperial regime could secure itself with aid from the feudal bloc. More hawkish officials denounced such a confrontational approach as ill-advised, calling the Inka a ‘kindred people’… after all, the slopes of Spyr’s mountains bore many revolutionary slogans, legible from orbit, carved as a testament to the labour power of the People. While Spyr had turned to socialism in order to overcome the imperial Christianity of Japan, the Inka of centuries earlier had nowhere to turn but their traditions in order to overcome the imperial Christianity of Spain. As had been done with the British, the Quinntonians, and other ideologically-objectionable regimes, the Inka ought be befriended and change gently suggested when the time was right. Besides, they couldn’t be planning to conduct all of their diplomacy in salt, and someone needed to be there to sell them cellphones and computers.

And so an expedition was organized, its goals to ensure a positive diplomatic relationship (most importantly that Guacamaya Inka Tupac did not fall into the Tsarist orbit) and explore economic opportunities which might arise should the reclusive empire adopt a more open relationship with the international community.

Sunwei Yushi, a career diplomat, was assigned to head the expedition, with the Committee of Public Safety providing the best translator they could manage along with two members to ensure security. A trade official and a doctor from the Revolutionary Army rounded out the party.

The remaining difficulty was, of course, getting the envoys to their destination… Inkan isolation left few avenues to inform the Sapa Inka that the Spyrans were on their way, and while satellite reconnaissance indicated the presence of road systems, it was unclear how suited they would be for motor vehicles. Delivery by air, it was decided, would be the best approach, with a shipborne helicopter launched off the coast. Even with external fuel tanks, it was doubted that the helicopter could manage a round trip, but expanding tank capacity would eat away at cargo space thought better used storing gifts, commercial product samples, and basic necessities, so it was hoped that arrangements could be made once they were on the ground that would allow fuel to be transported in from the coast.

And so the Spyran frigate Asaayu found itself at the end of a voyage from East Asia to South America, sending its helicopter up and away into the Andes, carrying a half-dozen Spyrans to what they hoped would be a friendly reception.

[Tahuantinsuyu Empire]

By the time the Roman communiqué reached Qusqu the delegation could also have been there, had it wished. Of course no reply was given, and even if it had been the fact that nobody knew what an Actis fighter might be would have made it somewhat inconclusive, though, like everyone else, the Romans were free to come.

The Spyrians, as other arrivers, would be greeted much the same as had been the Parsistanis, unless they were evidently connected in some way to the Empire's limited past experience of the wider world.

OOC: That'll have to do for now, just to let anyone else know that they can arrive as they like, and expect that sort of greeting unless they come waving bibles and crosses in people's faces, asking where the gold is, and cracking wise about smallpox.

[Gurguvungunit]

OOC: Sorry, I've been only somewhat active, so I haven't really responded or kept up with the thread.

The Coast of Tuhuantinsuyu

HMY Artemis was an impressive vessel. Painted white from stem to stern, the ship cast a dazzling reflection on the Pacific Ocean, and her brass and oak fittings put her two larger escorts to shame. Artemis was heir to a long line of Royal Yachts, and of these she was amongst the most luxurious of them, purpose-built by King Godfrey III to serve as a home at sea for the entire Royal Family. Though a fast ship when she wanted to be, Artemis had made the journey from Portsmouth at a leisurely eighteen knots, in the company of two destroyers of the Royal Navy. If that meant that Queen Victoria was amongst the last delegates to arrive in the Incan Empire, so be it. She was relatively confident that the Incans would wait. After all, where did they have to go?

The Queen of the British Empire had been relieved to board the helicopter detailed for her use. Despite the maritime character of her realm, she was not a comfortable sailor, and had spent much of the trip being miserably ill in her quarters. Eating little food and struggling to keep that down, she looked slightly the worse for wear as the helicopter took to the sky. On the trip in, she took the time to admire the view from her small window, marveling at the incredible color of the ocean and the pristine landscape beyond. There were noticeable signs of habitation and a few wide, cobbled roads, but besides that the Incan Empire looked almost entirely undeveloped. There were no cities of glass, sparkling in the morning sun. No vast harbors filled with shipping, or airports packed with jetliners. This was undoubtedly one of the most pristine nations on Earth, and the unfamiliar natural beauty affected her to a degree that was surprising.

When Cusco appeared, it brought with it new wonders. The entire city that she could see was made of stone and wood, but it looked anything but primitive. Despite their relatively crude materials, the Incans had built a metropolis. Vast temples that rivaled St. Paul or St. Peter's Basilica in size dominated the cityscape, but even they were less impressive than the vast building that could only be a royal palace. Victoria stifled a noise of indignant surprise as her craft banked sharply toward it, making for the vast square that led up to its main entrance. The area, she noted with interest, was roped off by the locals so as to provide a landing area; it was not clear how the Inca intended to be contacted, so there had been no way to warn of Victoria's impending arrival. It seemed as though the Inca had anticipated it, and had taken appropriate precautions.

The landing was elegantly performed, and her two personal guards left the helicopter just as its wheels touched the surface. Buffeted by the wind of the rotors, they nevertheless performed a careful scan of the area before gesturing to their Queen; the area was safe. The two men, wearing the crimson wool jackets of the Life Guards, were visibly sweating in the heat, but they ignored their discomfort. One, Lance Corporal William Corson, offered the Queen his arm as she climbed out of the unfamiliar aircraft, and she flashed him a smile.

"Thanks, Willie." He gave an abbreviated and casual salute; the two had known each other for years, and hurried to take up his position at point. Behind Victoria, the third of her guards appeared and fell in behind his Queen, to be immediately followed by Mr. Harley of the Foreign Service. Uniquely amongst the party, he looked entirely at ease as the wind played with his hair and his light jacket flapped in the wind. Victoria wasn't sure what to make of him, but he seemed to be a capable diplomat and he'd been advertised to be, and the briefings that he'd given her had been interesting, despite his tendency to ramble. Victoria grimaced as the gusts from the rotors forced her to duck–she'd only been on a few helicopters, and disembarking always made her a little uncomfortable–and so was grateful when the small party began to move away from the aircraft. A crowd was gathering, doubtless intrigued by the arrival of yet another group of "barbarians", and there seemed to be an honor guard forming at the gates of the palace. Victoria shivered, despite the heat. To form that honor guard meant that a group of the palace garrison was on full alert, in dress uniform with ceremonial arms at hand all the time, and she was familiar enough with the workings of a palace guard to imagine how taxing that would be. These Inca might look primitive, but they were at least as professional as her own Household Cavalry, and that spoke volumes about their dedication. It would be unwise, she noted carefully, to make herself or her staff the target of their ire.

There seemed to be some sort of official who had appeared, judging by the sudden snap to attention from amongst the guard. He was a man dressed in the local style, but that was all she could see from the hundred-odd meters of distance between her and the main entrance. Her own guards, a full three, made their own snap to attention, ceremonial Lee-Enfield carbines coming to rest against their shoulders. Victoria hid her uneasiness; those firearms were antiques, yes, and ceremonial to be sure. But they were chambered for the .303 British, and were fully loaded. Nobody in her Foreign Office fully knew what to expect, and so her guards were armed. So too was the helicopter that she carefully did not look at; there were two rocket pods under each winglet, concealed as fuel tanks. If the meeting somehow went disastrously, the British were fully prepared to slaughter everyone in the square. It was Victoria's devout hope that they would not need to do so.

[The Crooked Beat]

Cuzco

Gasparyan's group may have been the first foreign delegation to show up, but the Parsistani diplomats would certainly forgive the Sapa Inka if he decides to deal with the later arrivals first. The little quartet of Parsistanis, looking more like a band adventurers or revolutionaries than a state mission, landed in the Inkan capital after a trying flight over the Andes in their light aircraft, probably doesn't look all that impressive next to the Spyrians and English with their helicopters and frigates, or the Romans, cruising in aboard a jet airliner of all things, and if Guacamaya Tupac took that as a sign of limited official interest in Daylam he would be perfectly correct. And the Parsistanis, well into what they expect will amount to a very long stay, are starting to go a little bit native. Already the Parsistanis begin to show elements of Inkan dress in their own clothing, bits and pieces of fabrics bought in the city to repair flight suits and leather jackets, necessary after most of the expedition's personal baggage was dumped out over the Andes' higher peaks in order to save weight. Gasparyan and Batyr, the mission's trained academics, take to the language quite well, and given their prior background in linguistics generally and a slight exposure to the Quechua tongue, they may be able to communicate with Inkans themselves in something approaching the Inkan language. They practice their conversation skills at every opportunity, wandering, at Guacamaya's leisure of course, throughout ancient Cuzco, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of a city practically frozen in time. Kamenev and Magsarjav do their fair share of sightseeing as well, but, chiefly responsible for the maintenance of essential equipment, they spend much more time in the expedition's accommodations, maintaining communications with the small support ship offshore through the use of an old, bulky hand-cranked transmitter.

Hopefully, the Parsistanis will have earned Guacamaya's good graces through one particular act of generosity upon their arrival, where Gasparyan offered the expedition's Pioneer light aircraft as a gift from the Republic to the Sapa Inka. With no way to acquire more avgas, there wasn't any real point in holding onto the aircraft, already quite old, and presumably, the Foreign Ministry reasoned, the Sapa Inka would be suitably interested in such an exotic and unusual gift. Maybe the Pioneer would keep Guacamaya from completely forgetting about the increasingly unassuming Parsistanis in the midst of all the excitement surrounding the arrival of more foreign delegations, but Gasparyan for one is in no hurry to conclude the Republic's business. When it does come down to negotiating with the Inka leader, Gasparyan won't have anything terribly interesting or concrete to say, given the Foreign Ministry's reservations. He will, however, almost certainly invite an Inka delegation to Parsistan, and may well also offer the Inkas further foreign technologies for their own study and consumption.

[Tahuantinsuyu Empire]

Hopefully the Romans would realise before they sent an aircraft with limited fuel that the closest thing to an airstrip in Tahuantinsuyu was the salt flats upon which the initial message had been written, and the firmness of the surface here had to be in some doubt. One landed a jet aircraft here at one's own risk!

The entrances of Britain, Spyr, and Beddgelert certainly made an impression as salt was whipped up and lashed across the vast plaza by the down-draft of their helicopters, but nobody in a position of authority took it as deliberate, though a few civilian onlookers in the crowds that hurridly gathered each time a foreigner arrived were alarmed by the kicking up of the myriad grains.

Though it had been impossible to make it through the C20th without appreciating that the outsiders had some mastry of flight, nobody in the Empire had really understood the mechanics, and a good few had died in ill-advised cliff-jumping experiments since the late 1920s when the first aircraft was sighted.

The crimson uniforms and white faces of the British had infused the locals with perhaps the greatest sense of splendour. Though all the arrivals looked a little odd, nobody else was mind-blowing to those who'd grown-up amongst Amerindians and heard detailed descriptions of Spaniards. Asian features, bronze skin, dark hair, these were all familiar to some degree, but the British and the Geletians seemed particularly alien.

On the other hand, the Parsistanis were something of a hit. Great excitement surrounded their clumsy but discernable speech. Children weren't interested, of course, wanting instead to see the bloodless ones -the Celts and Anglo-Saxons-, but Army General Ozcollo and the Willaq Uma devoted extra attention to the Parsis.

In time, all were dragged to a great banquet in the Huacaypata, the square of warriors, a ceremonial part of the main plaza.

As this was convened, the Sapa Inka finally revealed himself, being carried in on a litter of apparently solid gold, himself adored with thousands of brightly coloured feathers and gold jewelry. His face twitched often as he regarded the assembly.

Guacamaya Inka Tupac took his place at the head of a long table down which all the guests were seated on stools.

In the square a dizzying array of stoves were prepared by hundreds of people who worked with the sort of speed that made ordinary modern people feel exhausted merely for watching. Piles of heated stones, like little burial mounds, cooked more food than was necessary. Varieties of potato never known outside of the Empire were used to make various dishes, along with sweet potato, more ears of corn than you could count, lima beans, and more.

Many of the labourers preparing the scene might be seen glancing hungrily at the corn in particular, as if it were something they particularly favoured or else rarely saw, and perhaps both. Nobody laid out any utensils. There were boards and shallow dishes of wood, stone, and metal (including gold, which Victoria alone had, while others had tin, copper, and bronze), and bowls, some quite large and others small enough to fit in a single hand. As soon as it appeared, locals -all finely adorned, and presumably nobles or others of rank and status- tucked into whatever food was on offer, so after any initial concerns about dining etiquette it would become obvious that, in this respect at least, the hosts were fairly relaxed.

Meat in the form of smoked and salted deer was brought up, along with some dried fish, but the Sapa Inka turned his nose up at this. Then a white llama was lead into the square, and the dictator stood with an excited yelp and clucked his tongue repeatedly. Many locals followed his lead, and soon a weird damp clicking sound overtook the scene. Nobody clapped his hands, that was notable.

The llama was slaughtered in the middle of the square, to the evident pleasure of Guacamaya, who barely stopped licking his lips for all the time it took to butcher and cook the unfortunate animal.

Seated opposite Victoria and between the Geletian and Spyrian delegates, General Ozcollo wouldn't stop shaking strips of dried meat and repeating, "Sharqui! Sharqui!" until everyone had tried his primordial jerky of some camelid or other.

Once the roasted llama meat had been portioned out with corn, a sort of potato cake, and an interesting alcoholic broth that probably tasted stronger than it was, the jittery Sapa Inka finally addressed the lucky diners, in Quechua first and then, with help from the high priest who was whispering in his ear, horribly-accented Spanish.

"Welcome, envoys, Princes, and Mama England, to the Navel of the World!" He kept tittering and stopping to pick at meat that he never actually ended up putting in his mouth. "We are made happy by your attendance."

Ozcollo was chewing jerkey, or sharqui, or whatever it was, and even the Willaq Uma, between whispers in his master's ear, was turning over a corn cob.

"The time of darkness is finished! We forgive the Prince of Spain and the" a pause as the high priest whispered, "...the Pope of Rome, who tried to sell our lands to that Prince. We shall not seek revenge, and we shall pardon... Francisco Pizarro and the friar Vicente de Valverde, who tried to do us so much harm.

"Our ancestors did kill them both, but their bodily remains can go back to Spain, if the Prince there wants them."

Finally he nibbled a little meat, held up by someone attending him, and made a happy sound before going on.

"Today we wish to know what is new in the world."

[Gurguvungunit]

Cuzco

Lance Corporal Corson was uncomfortable. Like all of the queen's guard, he wore the Hainsworth wool tunic, a uniform that was entirely unsuited to the weather. He sat on a small wooden stool and ate strange food, most of which wasn't very appetizing, and he couldn't understand even a bit of what was being said around him whenever someone spoke in a language other than English. He was decently well-versed in French and Spanish, and he knew a word or two of German, but Quechua, Geletian and Lyongese were all foreign to him. Worst of all, Corson had been obliged to surrender his rifle, bayonet and pistol at the door. It went against all of his training, but for once his queen was largely unguarded. He shifted awkwardly on the stool, feeling it rock beneath him on the uneven floor. Beside him, Mr. Harley ate with gusto and carried on a conversation with the gregarious fellow across from them who had prevailed upon all present to eat his jerky. Corson winced internally at the memory; it had been like eating strips of his riding boots. He concentrated on the appetizers, eating diffidently and drinking water from one of the small tin bowls provided, and so was surprised when conversation suddenly stopped as the Sapa Inca rose to his feet.

Corson listened attentively to what the Sapa Inca had to say, his face as neutral as his training could make it. As the queen's bodyguard, Corson had a fair bit of experience listening to diplomats, ministers and advisers of all stripes; an official did not see the queen without her guards hovering unobtrusively in the background.

Even with his wide experience though, Corson found the Inca emperor to be something of a strange fellow. His movements were sudden and nervous, and he laughed at the smallest things. It was entirely possible that the man was a bit unhinged, and it made Corson uneasy. The emperor prattled about history, which though doubtless important to the Inca meant nothing to an Englishman apart from referencing some well-known history. Pizarro's abject failure to conquer the Inca and subsequent messy death had been a message to the English explorers of old, and they had never once set foot in Tahuantinsuyu. Accordingly, there was no history. For once, the British Empire did not even have to pretend shame at past "excesses", or make embarrassing gestures to placate governments that saw themselves as "wronged" by Englishmen long dead. Corson hid a rather nasty grin and glanced at the Romans. The political and spiritual successors to thugs like Pizarro sat with faces that could have been carved from their precious marble, but it was quite amusing to see the Catholic fascists get theirs at the hands of a mad god-king of a backwards people.

The Sapa Inca's next question was by far the most interesting, and the most pertinent. The Inca were, for all their evident industry, a kingdom frozen in time. The awe which the gathered crowd had greeted their helicopter was telling, and from what Corson remembered of his briefing the Inca hadn't even discovered lighter-than-air flight, let alone aircraft proper. He knew that Mr. Harley had spoken with the prime minister about it, and the general consensus had been that the best thing to do would be to explain the general principles of various technologies to the Inca, in the rough order that they had been discovered. A few examples could and would be produced–Cessna 150s for aircraft, a standard lightbulb and a generator, a wired and wireless telephone, an internal combustion engine–along with detailed explanations of the underlying theory. After some debate between politicians, military advisers and cultural anthropologists, the conclusion had been reached that it was not in Britain's interests–nor those of the Inca, really– to provide complex technology in the form of gifts. The entire western world remembered what had happened when that practice had been applied to the aborigines of Australia and North America, and the ensuing cultural upheaval that had occurred. Better for the Inca to understand the technology themselves, and build local examples if desired, than have it foisted upon them by well-intentioned westerners.

At least, that was the theory, but certain forms had to be observed. Accordingly–
"Your Majesty," Queen Victoria said in fluent Spanish. Corson hid another grin. He knew how hard his queen had worked to master all the widely spoken languages on Earth, but even her tutoring hadn't included Quechua. "I thank you on behalf of my people for your generous welcome here, and convey the respects of my government to you and yours. This is a magnificent nation, unlike any other that I have visited. Your people are industrious, and they do Your Majesty great honor by their efforts.

"The world has undergone great changes since your encounters with Pizarro and Valverde, not least of which include the fall of Spain and all its empire. I trust," Victoria smiled thinly, "that the Roman delegation will have more to tell Your Majesty about this. In addition, new empires have risen since that day, not least of which includes my own. Additionally, as Your Majesty must be aware, many new technologies have been developed since then. Men can fly through the air, as you have seen. We can speak to each other from many miles away, and we can light our cities with electricity and heat our homes during the colder parts of the year. In many ways, we have shaped the world to our convenience, and a few men have even walked on the moon. As an example of some of the changes that the world has seen, we have brought Your Majesty a gift as demonstration of our good faith. There is a place called India which has been an ally and dominion of my realm for some time, and one of its prized products is a tea from a place called Assam. This tea is produced only in India, but for three hundred years it has been a staple of the culture of my home, thousands of miles away. It is brought by ship and aircraft in huge quantities. It is in some ways a symbol of the modern world; produced in India and enjoyed by the British because of the links that bind the world together. This is from my palace's kitchen, and it is the finest of its type in the world. I bring it to Your Majesty as a symbol of friendship.

"The ways in which we rule ourselves have changed as well. Though I, like Your Majesty, am queen of a large empire," Corson stifled another smile. Britain was rather larger than the Incan Empire, but that wasn't entirely pertinent, "I am in a number of ways bound by the will of my people. The citizens of my empire make their wishes known to me through a council that they appoint, and I am required to obey their will in almost every way. This might seem strange to Your Majesty, but for my part I would have it no other way. My government is not representative of all governments, however, and the other esteemed representatives will no doubt tell you of their traditions in due course.

"Perhaps the most immediate change is one that is not easy to see. When the Inca last met people from abroad, they came to kill and enslave in a manner that had once been common in Europe. This has changed for some of us, and I count my own nation among them. I give you my promise that the British Empire will never attack the Inca, because that is not our way anymore. It is true that we operate an army, and a navy. We do this because even today, it is not safe everywhere and we must protect ourselves. But I hope that Your Majesty will not see a threat in the ships that carried us here, because we did not mean one. We came here because we have things that the Inca may want, and Your Majesty has things which we may trade with you. Most of all, we came because we would like to know the Inca better, and because we would like to form a friendship between our two empires." Victoria inclined her head slightly, a gesture of respect but not of submission that befitted equals, and then she took her seat.

[Tahuantinsuyu Empire]

Everyone listened intently as Victoria spoke, many even putting down their food, or at least chewing more slowly. The Sapa Inka continued to gurgle and squeak quietly almost under his breath, but he appeared to be paying attention.

Then, at the assertion that men had walked on the moon, cobs of corn were dropped along with jaws, and native eyes turned almost without exception either to the Sapa Inka or the Willaq Uma, the former of whom was now jigging about in his seat as the latter sprung to his feet with an anguished cry, knocking over his stool in the process.

For a moment, nobody seemed to know what to say, though there was much murmering and dashing about in the background as shadows flitted across the torchlit stone of the plaza.

"This is outrageous!" The high priest was soon saying to his emperor, speaking now in his native Quechua tongue. "If they had stood with Mama Quilla we would have seen it! We have seen it when she has been attacked by animals, so quite certainly our priests would have recorded if men were with her!"

"Inti would not have allowed men to take such liberties with his wife, in any case." Ozcollo asserted, more calmly. Gesturing in agreement, the priest then went on talking. "We should send them away before we anger Mama Quilla and her husband, or her father." He urged Guacamaya.

Though the Sapa Inka was fussing and fidgeting too much to do any such thing at the moment, the mood had certainly changed, and Victoria wasn't being regarded in quite the same awed manner as she had been. For now it seemed that nobody had really found time to notice the gift of tea.

[Gurguvungunit]

OOC: After Quinntonia's departure, this presents something of a problem. The UK hasn't been on the moon, but maybe we'll get a player in the US who has a space program. Or I could retcon the existence of BESA back to the 1960s, but I don't really want to do that. Hmm...

Cuzco

Damn. Damn damn damn damn damn. The word repeated itself in his mind like the tolling of a rather strident, irate bell, chasing all other thoughts away.

A few stools down from Victoria, Dave Harley had his face in his hands. He'd edited the damned speech, of course, but true to form his queen had decided to do things her own damned way. Large chunks of her delivered address had been ad-libbed, and quite capably. But she didn't know a thing about Incan religious beliefs, their reverence for the moon and sun, or how they might react to the news that someone had defiled their goddess. Harley would have some working to do in the next few hours, and he didn't even know where to start. Clearly, their high priest was distraught, while their emperor seemed most confused. If this whole expedition wasn't to end in total failure, he would need to do something right quick. As Victoria finished her speech, regal and controlled as always but doubtless uncertain behind her calm demeanor, he considered his options.

One: He could lie. He could claim that Victoria had misspoken–Spanish wasn't her native language, and the Inca didn't need to know that she was as fluent as the King of New Spain. He could claim that what was meant was that spacecraft had gone up in the sky to view the moon. Of course, when the Inca eventually became members of the modern world, that wouldn't do. Their first memory would be of a diplomatic faux-pas covered up by a lie, and there would go the whole relationship between Britain and the Inca.

Two: He could do nothing. Let the Inca throw the British out, if they wanted to. There were no better trade partners anywhere, and the information brought by the diplomatic team would bear that out. The British Empire had the highest GDP of any nation on earth, followed only by a growing Spyr. If the Inca wanted to cut themselves off from that much gain because of their religion, that was certainly their right. But then the Spyrans would have access to the Inca resources, and they didn't need any boost to growing market share worldwide, anyway.

Three: He could explain everything, right here and right now. It would be heresy of the first order, he might be beheaded, and his queen would be in danger. But the Inca had to know somehow, and for better or for worse–for worse, really–the matter was on the table. He'd have to send back for photographs, documentation, anything that he could get, and the Inca would still probably refuse to believe him, but at least he would have told the truth.

Four: He could appeal to the better nature of the other delegates. This was in some ways the most absurd of all possible goals–the Romans would doubtless want to trip the British up at every turn, but the Spyrans were usually a decent lot and the Parsistanis could be trusted in a pinch, awkward history or no. The Inca couldn't remain ignorant of the true nature of the stars forever, and perhaps it would be best if the entire delegation discussed this, in private, after the meal. He'd have to face the interminable wait and the inevitable Roman machinations, but that could be survived. It was entirely possible that the other courses could not.

Harley frowned as his queen's speech finished and Victoria, cool as ever, made a small bow of respect to the Inca ruler before resuming her seat and taking a sip–a gulp, really–of her drink. So the sarcastic, brilliant queen-empress of Britain was a mortal woman after all, eh? He gave her an entirely impolitic glare, which she returned for the barest of instants, before resuming her meal with the aplomb and the slight arrogance that she was so well known for.

Damn.

[Tahuantinsuyu Empire]

With the High Priest whispering in his ear, the Sapa Inka, appearing as if a nervous congregation of wrigling worms in the form of a man, twisted and jerked in his lavish seat. All around his citizens watched, sharing with the foreign guests every bit of nervous anticipation that seemed to have filled the epic courtyard. General Ozcollo, still seated, turned over a corn-cob and nibbled briefly at the last few kernels before dropping the husk upon the table and, after wiping his mouth, apologised (in distorted Spanish) to the British and others seated near by as he belatedly rose, puffing out his barrel of a chest and heaving back his thick shoulders in the process.

"Enjoy!" He said, with a gesture to the food, before making his way up to Guacamaya and the Willaq Uma and joining their hushed discussion.

Even a simpleton could tell, from the vantage point affordered by the delegates' seats, that the Army General was hardly of one mind with his far more agitated religious equivalent, the Willaq Uma, or high priest. If his poncho had born pockets, Ozcollo's hands would have been in them, and if his culture had recognised the motion, his heels would have rocked him. At one point, his cheeks actually did puff out a little.

In time, he returned to the middle of the table and, in a formal, military tone, in which duty obliterated personal sentiment, declared that this gathering was over.

Yes, despite all of the effort gone to in order to deliver diplomatic staff to the Andean hermit kingdom, a few bites of dried guineapig and bloody llama meat would be just about the sum of anybody's cultural experience. It was, already, time to go home.

Apparently, Victoria and her friends had walked into the Vatican and declared themselves friends of Zeus, Mars, Belenus, and Mohammed, and the irate Pope was calling up the Swiss Guard. Now was the right moment in which to make an exit.

But, despite the setback, this surely would not be the last encounter that the modern world had with the Inka...

[Spyr]

When he had first learned that Victoria would be heading Britain’s contact with the Inka, Sunwei Yushi had been relieved… whatever his diplomatic talents, he was merely the representative of a People’s government, the son of a rich peasant from Haibin. Sending a monarch as an envoy demonstrated a degree of respect the Inka would both understand and appreciate. The rulers of Rome and Kyiv would certainly not make personal visits to South America, and that would give the free powers a leg up over their feudal rivals in the competition for Inkan affections.

But a monarch was often at the centre of national identity, colouring their perspective. From a British point of view, talk of moon landings was an impressive feather in the cap of modernity, religious connotations something that could be explained away by reasonable discussion. That the Inka would respond by immediate expulsion of foreigners from their lands may not even have occurred. But to the Inka, it was a perfectly reasonable response to insults against faith.

What was done was done, and the consequences would have to be resolved. Certainly the assembled ambassadors might attempt to argue against being sent away, but Sunwei’s experiences as envoy to the Drapoel had taught him well the risks of offending insular cultures. Too much resistance might provoke a stronger response, and he shuddered to think of the RAF over Qusqu should the Sapa’s troops imprison or injure the British monarch. His own security detail, having already tensed visibly after Ozcollo’s abrupt announcement, might take regrettable action should things start to escalate. Best to deem an opportunity lost and leave the Inka to open on their own time.

Still, there were matters to take care of before the Spyrans could take their leave… if nothing else, the logistics of getting their helicopter back to its mother frigate on the coast with its remaining fuel would require unloading of trade goods and supplies brought for the trip.
These would be passed off as gifts, apologies for the bad behaviour of the British and signs of Spyran good faith. Some were cultural goods: the jade seals and yellow silk robes that had been traditional Spyran gifts to foreign rulers from the early days of their civilization, along with objects of interest such as painted parasols, fireworks, and porcelain tableware. The Sapa Inka was one of few rulers in the world who might put such things to practical use, rather than relegating them to museums or Foreign Office basements, but present circumstances made it just as likely he might have them thrown onto a pyre.
Trade samples and technological demonstrators would be more difficult to deal with… the Inka would certainly be able to puzzle out the functions of a modern rifle, but the uses and interactions of radios, subnotebooks, crank generators, and incandescent lamps might not be so readily apparent. If opportunity arose, offers would be made to delay departure temporarily and provide brief demonstrations, with General Ozcollo (seemingly more amenable than his superior) the preferred target for such entreaties. Still, Inkan society and unraveled and embraced black powder and the horse with little delay in the past, and their ability to adapt on their own could not be discounted. The Inka, Sunwei was certain, could not remain closed to the world forever, and when next they turned outward to the world it was hoped they might first turn to Spyr.

[Gurguvungunit]

Cuzco

Harley's plans fell apart as General Ozcollo pronounced the gathering over, and he took a few more bites for decorum's sake before putting down his corn cob and standing, prepared to take his leave. It was with some consternation, then that he noticed his queen was still at the table, her food politely abandoned, scribbling something on a card produced from her jacket pocket. She sat for a good few minutes, the world forgotten, and once the Sapa Inka and his entourage left her guards produced derringers that had been hidden somewhere, doubtless fearing an attack. Harley made no move to see what she was writing; his mission had ended in failure and his chosen specialty at the Foreign Office was unlikely to be a prestigious one as a result. This had been his chance, he'd prepared a speech magnificently, and his queen had decided to practice her improvisational skills instead of following his lead. His face dark, Harley led the diplomatic contingent from the palace, and did not see as Willie Corson delivered the card to General Ozcollo, marked "For the Sapa Inka" in Spanish.

Victoria, with a nod of her head and a dazzling smile, took her leave. Her guards, ever cautious, fanned out around her with pistols in their pockets until their rifles were returned to them. In the courtyard, they waited as two helicopters flew in from the coast, watching Harley chat with a bemused Spyran and his party. The queen, ever watchful, overheard Harley making polite overtures to the Spyrans about interest in a joint Britain/Spyr Americas policy to combat New Spanish influence. Victoria took the opportunity to glance around, watching as the Inka appeared to see the descent of helicopters for the second time in a day. A shame, really, that they would leave as heretics and defilers of the moon. Such a silly thought.

The helicopters touched down in a halo of dust, and the party climbed aboard with a final wave to the Spyrans.

Your Majesty,
It appears that we have hit a snag; allow me to explain. I shall be quite candid; pretty words and complicated denials are for diplomats, not rulers, and so I hope that you will excuse me if I sound too familiar.

The first thing that must be understood is this: your people and my own worship different Gods, and this appears to have proven to be a problem. The God of my people (we worship only one) does not exist in this world to be seen, though we believe that He is all around us. While I was given to understand that you and your people worshiped the sun and the moon, it was not made clear to me that you worshiped their physical figures. To us, I admit that this seems strange, but we have experience with many different religions and we do not think less of you. It is my hope that you will not think less of us.

I did not lie when I said that people have walked on the moon. It is true, it is one of the great achievements of our culture and our people, I will not apologize for it. It may be that the moon is divine, that her husband is angry with us for what we have done, if so we will be damned for it. I do not think so, but that is only my belief. What we can tell you, with certainty, is that when men walked on the moon, she did not appear to be alive. Perhaps her life is one which we do not understand, or perhaps she does not exist like men do, in body alone. I do not know, perhaps I will one day find out.

Why am I telling you this? Certainly it is possible that this will only harden your heart against my people. It is possible that you will see us as dangerous heretics who deserve our isolation from your kingdom. It is possible that you will resist all efforts to make peace with me and my people. If you do, that will be a loss for both of us. It will be a loss for you, because I rule the largest empire on this planet and our wealth is greater than that of any other nation. Our navy rules the oceans, and no nation trades with another without our implicit consent. I am one of a very few people to be able to claim that I may stop the engine of the world with a single word.

It is a loss for us because you rule a nation that is very wealthy in other ways. It contains vast resources, some of which you use and some of which you do not. We would trade with you for them, and we would enrich you with our money as you enrich us with your goods. I assure you, if you are skeptical, that no nation may trade without a currency, and ours is the very best and most respected. The energy and ingenuity of your people is incredible; despite having a serious weakness in technology compared to other nations, you have built a civilization that rivals many. Where my people use machines to build our cities, yours use only hard work, determination, and creativity. You and they have my respect, because it is clear that the Inca can and will achieve great things in the coming years.

Your Majesty, you cannot stay hidden and isolated forever. That is not how the world works. One day, others will come to find you. They will not be kind or peaceful. They will want to take what you have and give you nothing in return. That is the world we live in. When they come, they will come with speed, and they will come with weapons that you cannot imagine. In any war, the Inca will lose. You may not believe me, but your weapons will not hurt them nearly enough. Do you know what a tank is? A bomber? A cruise missile?

One day, the world will come for you. I urge you to come to it first, peacefully and with the intention of learning. It has much to offer. The things to be seen are incredible, the things to be discovered are amazing. I offer you the chance to join the community of nations as an equal, as a great king. You may not choose to contact me; very well, I have said and done things in your court which you find alarming and unholy. I urge you, with whatever credibility remains to my name and my office, contact someone. Contact the Spyrans. They are strange people with strange ideas about some things, but they will not betray you. Fear the Romans, the Kievans, and above all fear New Spain. If anyone does, they will be the ones to come for you with guns, with fire.

If they do attack you, and you have not contacted another nation, I will give you this promise. I said that my nation was the greatest on Earth, was the richest and the most powerful. I believe this to be true. If it appears that they will destroy your empire, mine will help you. Understand what I am saying. I will send my warriors to die for you. Many of them will. I will do it anyway.

Victoria.

[The Crooked Beat]

Cuzco

Parsistan's small diplomatic mission, if it could still be called that, duly makes its exit after an afternoon of preparation, marching out of the allotted quarters loaded-down with gear and provisions on expensive frame-packs and apparently intent on making for the coast on foot. None of them would regret their short visit to the Inkan Empire, for all intents and purposes a one-time opportunity and a truly excellent story to tell the grandchildren, but after Victoria's unfortunate moon comment they are not reluctant to skip town, lest they be caught-up in anything unsavory. Except, of course, for Gasparyan, who, under more favorable circumstances, would gladly spend several years in the Inkan capital, an unbelievably vast academic frontier in its own right. Not to mention, in spite of his recent and untypically healthy Inkan lifestyle, Gasparyan is not so well-suited to long walks as his three companions, and the expedition's return trek will no doubt be a struggle for the aging linguist in spite of all his lately-shed pounds. One thought that sustains him is the prospect of additional and highly productive study along the road ahead, though it is difficult to predict whether Inkans themselves will want much of anything to do with such an obvious band of outsiders, especially in light of their Emperor's recent attitude towards the same. Kamenev's Twin Pioneer, still an exquisite aircraft after decades of use, is of course left for the Inkas to pour over, along with some of the expedition's heavier radio equipment and a smattering of technical documents written in Spanish, containing a brief, perhaps illegible, outline in halting Quechua courtesy of Gasparyan.

Bundled in their own cold-weather clothing and additional furs bought locally, the little party sets off over the Andes, making for a rendezvous with the Foreign Office's improvised CAM ship, now loitering off the coast and feeding information to what is, completely unbeknown to Gasparyan, an increasingly interested Foreign Office, and, more ominously, DGI.