February 8th, 8253

The event you both expected and dreaded has come to pass. The Ministry of Interstellar Diplomacy and Communications has called another press conference and you received a memo notifying you that your presence would be required. The subject is obviously the Arlazu Assembled Accord but beyond that you have little idea. For once the diplomatic cocktail gossip circuit only has speculation and no actual facts or details have leaked out.

You tug at the collar of your dress white uniform, squaring away the collar, and ponder what this whole affair might be about. The one thing the speculation going about agrees on is that some sort of trade agreement or treaty must have either been signed or be about to be signed. With that in mind you ponder exactly what sort of appearance you wish to make in public. You belt on your plasma pistol as weapons are pare and parcel of dress uniform and then pause. With a smirk you decide to check the mess dress regulations.

“Sidearms are to be worn as part of mess dress uniform for public appearances as are any and all medals arrayed as their regulations require.”

Your smirk turns into a toothy grin. You have a few old Navy combat awards you'll need to wear - boarding action and anti-piracy campaign medals plus the red 'mentioned in dispatches' ribbon - but you are not explicitly required to wear your sword. You always saw swords as a symbol of Lords, and the overly gaudy ones in particular of political Lords at that, so you decide to grab the chance to snub them just a bit where no one can really make a stink about it. Leaving your sword in it's storage case you select and attach your boarding ax to your belt. It looks brutal and uncomplicated, just like your lowborn background, and will let you play the 'blunt spoken military person' angle better.

With that settled you pick up your official mess dress beret and head out the door to the waiting Ministry service air car. The driver pops the rear door for you and you settle in. Surprisingly there is an officer with the lapel markings of a Ministry protocol officer in the other seat you raise an eyebrow but sit down normally enough. The door shuts and the air car lifts off.

“So there is something more to this event then a simple press release then?”

“Indeed there is Captain Warde. Pardon me, I should introduce myself. Isaac Lewis, protocol officer attached to the Ministry of Interstellar Diplomacy and Communications, at your service.”

“So can you tell me what is going on or am I going to be walking in blind and waiting to be ambushed by something?”

“I can't tell you everything or your reactions won't be sufficiently real for the cameras.”

“Bullshit.”

“Precisely. But the Powers That Be have decided that a 'blunt military man of low birth' does not possess sufficient political acting skills, for lack of a better term, to risk matters. What I can tell you is that this is to be an announcement of some diplomatic importance and an awards ceremony of sorts. Your role is largely ceremonial, as the man who first discovered the Arlazu Assembled Accord, but as this is your first official public appearance in this matter you can expect plenty of cameras on you.”

“Damn. So much for fading back into obscurity and getting back to work.”

“There wasn't a chance of that as soon as your first contact report came in. Doubly so since it dumped the Young Master Cuddon - Captain of the Blue Diver and heir to the Dukedom of Cuddon - right in the fecal matter up to his armpits.”

“Let me guess, It was his ship and name on the reports has having initially scanned the Gayle system.”

“And the Tumul system too. CWO Fish's calculations left no little room for doubt on that score.”

“Three scandals in a year has to be some sort of record.”

“Sorry to say sir but no, that particularly infamous honor still goes to Lady Josian Ayde Junior. Five scandals to her name and all in 8207.”

“How could I forget the 'Harlot of Parliament?'”

“Probably because Lord Uric Hapsburg the tenth was caught buggering his cousin in his office that same year.”

“HAH! I remember laughing at that for a week. So I guess I'm caught up in the great political game weather I like it or not. And with enemies made already.”

“A word of advice? The old political Lords hate competent officers anyway on general principle. Rising on merit and jumping ranks based on achievements slows their careerist plans down.”

“Wait am I getting 'surprise' promoted at a public ceremony?”

“We're here sir. Try not to fall asleep during the speeches.”