New San Andreas Republic wrote:Mr. Robbins noticed the change in tone from his Yitankan counterpart, and in a way, also found some form of oddly demented enjoyment in it. It finally felt as though the two were seeing one in another in what they truly represented in their most naked and shameless forms. The representatives of two societies with radically different ways of existence, and indeed it seemed the two understood each other better now. The insults and aspersions Mr. Uyeya had made about their capitalist lack of morals and propensity for weasel-like opportunism weren't taken personally at all. He had his own opinions on commies, after all, nuclear apocalypse-causers still firmly in his mind. The time for trite comments about the quality of water or the trip here had ended. The time for passive-aggressive insults, haggling and teeth-clenched handshakes had begun. It was diplomacy, as he liked to think of it, NSAR-style.
"Mmm... that does sound tempting. Certainly tempting. We definitely need resources, what being a... scarred landscape changed forever by a grand war of hellfire centuries ago. You can't imagine how hard things have been for our society, and even today most in the NSAR still live an agricultural, simple life of farming, Brahmin-rearing and just making ends meet. The idea of us gettin' far cheaper access to resources like oil and whatnot, to rebuild... to improve our society, all off the back of you commies and even paying for it with our 'dirty capitalist' money... Heh. There's something beautiful in the concept of that. Chinese commies destroy the world centuries ago, and Yitankan commies help us rebuild it in the way our American forefathers would have always wanted. Even disregardin' the logistical benefits and ways in which this will boost the military in our war against the Legion, I can certainly see this working as an alternative..."Not leaving Mr. Uyeya's eye contact, Mr. Robbins briefly paused and unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, downing the rest in a quick gulp as the Adam's apple in his throat went up and down. Letting out a sigh of refreshment rather loudly, he let up a finger of 'hold on a second' to his bedfellow of negotiation across the table and whispered something to the aide he'd brought. It was inaudible, but you could hear the centuries-surviving strong Californian accent of his aide as she politely said '
Right away, sir.' A minute or so later, it was clear Mr. Robbins had found his own way of further refreshment from back home: a
Sprunk Sarsaparilla bottle, ice-cold and Pre-War. They'd been reserved for diplomats like himself, and it was almost as though he was showing it off for some reason. The bottle cap was removed, and after taking a refreshing gulp of the taste of the American Southwest, he eyed the disgarded bottle cap as he continued to speak. There was a visible shiny blue star under the top of the cap.
"The well-being of another human being... without profit. An interestin' point you raise. It's a point... well, you'll pardon my possible rudeness and disrespect when I tell you it's born out of naïveté. It takes a nation who has never understood the baptism of fire that the Great War brought and the cruel lawless world it invoked to make a point like that. Everything the New San Andreas Republic does is for the benefit of the 2 million or so San Andreans who call it home. We fight slavery in the Senora Wasteland against Caligula's Legion because we fight on the side of the morally just for the sake of our people. We care about San Andreans now, who live now... there are no die-hard communists among our people. There are foreigners, however, who have attempted to subvert our way of life with such poison. We have no reason to care about such people. Such people deserve no well-being when they subscribe to a way of life that our ancestors fought tooth-and-nail to fight in the almost-now mythical land of China. You clearly care for such people, and their rights, so we seek a way to benefit. It's as simple as that."Another quick gulp of West-style cowboy sarsaparilla, and a clearing of the throat. It was clear Mr. Robbins was going to finish.
"Anyhow, this is all beside the point. We hear your unorthodox proposal and it's appreciated. It's certainly good as a baseline, as an expectation, a... uh... foundation, if you will. But, as always, we look at this proposal the way we look at any: how will this benefit the San Andrean people? By showing mercy to a group of Reds from here on out that would ordinarily be on the receiving end of a Service Rifle, we're using up resources and possibly even endangering our guys to a degree. Sure, your proposal will help. The San Andrean people will appreciate the resources you can sell us. Oil, gold, building stuff... all of it helps. But we need further assurances. An expectation that a 'most favorable nation' is entitled to more than just economic sweet-talking. How about this: a formal condemnation by the Yitankan government of our greatest of enemies, the slavers and imperialists of Caligula's Legion, and some form of aid in our direction that helps us fight them. We're talkin' sanctions, intelligence, hell... even just nasty words if you can spare them. Anything to help us in our fight for a good cause." "We have our differences in how we view the world, but I'm sure even you are appalled by the horrors of slavery. Commie or not, anyone morally in-tact would be..."The Sprunk Sarsaparilla bottle saw another bit of love as Mr. Robbins awaited a response.
Hearing all the NSAR representative had to say, Mr. Uyeya took a sip of water and responded.
"Mr. Robins, I'm sure you're not acquainted with the history of Yitanka and its people," he said, putting his water bottle back on the table. "To be fair, we're some small, unnoticeable nation out in the middle of nowhere straddling the Arctic Circle. Basically no one knows us. But I think your people and ours have a lot more in common than you realize. You know who the first settlers of the Yitan peninsula were? Pirates and anarchist rebels. For nearly 300 years there was nothing the Yitans valued more than the freedom to live our life they way we wanted to: By the sweat of our brow and
maybe also raiding the Chinese coastline for profit. Then came the Tsarists, then the Soviets, then the Japanese corporations. We..."
Mr. Uyeya paused for a moment. He looked around at his aides, including one of the state's political commissars.
"If you would," he said, turning to the other Yitankans in the room, "please leave the room. And turn off the camera. If the National Security Committee has a problem with it I'll talk to them later."
There was a hesitancy in Uyeya's staff. They had always known him to operate by the books. Not once had he made such a request. But at the end of the day he was the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and they were in no position to disobey. So they complied, leaving Uyeya alone with Mr. Robbins and his own aides.
"Sorry," he said, returning to the conversation at hand, "I'm going to say some things the Party probably doesn't want me to say. Where was I? Ah, right...Tsarists, Soviets, Japanese. But despite all that, despite all
this, nothing has broken the Yitankan spirit. We're still pirates and rebels at heart, not communist clockwork dipshits. But it's hard to go back to something after its been over 100 years. Nobody in Yitanka remembers a time when we
weren't Soviets. But that fire of freedom is still in there. I still hear whispers of people wanting to strike out on their own and carve out their own life. Hell,
I'd be over the moon to sail the seas, plundering from Chinese ports and dodging the Korean navy!"
Mr. Uyeya stopped to give an honest, from the heart laugh. Then he sighed, a smile on his face as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"But instead here I am, dressing up in suits to broker deals with people who'd rather see us erased from the maps every day. I sure as hell can play pretend pretty well now, but this was never me. So we may not have survived a nuclear holocaust like your people have, but my people and yours, me and you, we're not so different. I sympathize with you and your people, and honestly if I wasn't worried that I'd end up with an icepick in my skull I'd consider giving life in the NSAR a shot. But knowing the current Chairman of the National Security Committee I've got better odds having by balls blown off with a shotgun before I stepped foot on a plane with the intention of leaving Yitanka for good."
Uyeya looked around nervously, even though he was certain he wasn't being watched.
"And, if we ever have a revolution to get us out of this red-colored shit," he whispered, leaning further in, "I'd appreciate you putting a good word in with your government. That's not a favor I'm asking for or anything, just a personal request. Me to you."
"But we'll return to your counteroffer now. I'm not exactly familiar with Caligula's Legion. But if what you say about them is correct, and I don't doubt you for a second, it'll be an easy sell to the Supreme Soviet. Denouncing slavers and imperialists is basically like breathing to those stuck-up old farts. And guaranteeing aid should you go to war is a pretty simple ask. What exactly that would be is up to the Chairman of the Supreme Soviet, but Yitanka has been itching to get involved in a fight like that, so I wouldn't be surprised if we got stuck in right alongside you all. We can accept these terms, but I do need to ask what resources the NSAR needs the most so I know what will be part of the deal. Then it's just a matter of signatures and going through 10 metric tons of paperwork."