[Lauchenoiria]

Somewhere above Duņceda Airport, Eiria

The Kerlian jet circled, waiting for clearance to land, as the women on board sat waiting for the briefing to finish. There was not a single man on board. Ines Abbott, Kerlian Minister for International Trade, surveyed the three others sitting watching her intently. The four security personnel who would be protecting them during the conference did not appear to look at her, but she knew they would have their eyes peeled throughout the conference.

“There is every chance that the Zamastanians will not expect us to be here in good faith. In Tofino they were downright rude to us, and they have a distrust of us that seems deep seated. They will assume we have an ulterior motive where we do not. Their attitudes towards us will make us feel uncomfortable. Do not show it. We are here to end this dispute, which means we will be polite regardless of how they treat us,” Abbott said, eyeing each of the women one by one. All three nodded to show they understood.

“We want an end to sanctions by the Zamastanians both against us and the Xiomerans,” she continued. “In return we will drop the tariffs and bans on Zamastanian goods. It is quite simple, if everyone is being sensible this should be easy. I doubt very much, however, that the Zamastanians will be acting sensibly. This is also a good opportunity for each of us individuals to meet with some of our Xiomeran counterparts. Our two nations will be working more closely in the future, so try to develop positive working relationships.”

“Do you wish us to try and speak to the Xiomerans when we have downtime?” one of the aides asked.

“Only if the Xiomerans seem receptive to the idea. For some of you this will be your first time outside Kerlile, don’t go overboard. The Xiomerans are our allies but are likely more… well-travelled. Don’t let the location distract you from the job,” Abbott warned.

“Second on the agenda is the matter of Trive,” she said, her tone of voice indicating she was still quite angry at the Trivian matter. “We all know of the devastating attack on our nation by this state. They have apologised, but the damage has been done. It is likely we will end up having to end our embargo on Trivian goods and allow Trivian businesses to open again - but we will not do so without a fight. Thankfully, the system we purchased from the Xiomerans is almost finished being installed, which will make another cyberattack impossible. We will make it quite clear, however, that a repeat of the incident will be construed as an act of war. Any questions?”

“The Trivians attacked us, why aren’t we retaliating with more than trade sanctions?” asked the youngest of the aides.

“That is a question to ask of the Council, not myself. We are here to resolve the trade dispute, not discuss matters of policy,” Abbott said firmly.

“Yes,” the young aide continued, “but we were attacked and now it seems like we’re just going to let it go. Does this not set a bad precedent?”

“What is your name, girl?” Abbott said narrowing her eyes.

“Viola MacLean, ma’am,” the aide answered.

“Well, Ms. MacLean, I fully support the policy of the Council. So you can report back that I’ve passed their little test.”

“Wait, I wasn’t…”

“I don’t have time for games, you’re not very good at hiding it. Either you’re a Council plant to test me or you’re a fool and I don’t have time for either. Get your act together, and start working towards the policy of the Council, which is to end this dispute.”

“Yes, ma’am,” MacLean muttered, looking at the ground.

The women all fell silent as the plane began to descend, each of them wondering just how well this would go, and if they would manage to achieve the goal of ending the dispute. Abbott for one knew how important this was to the Council, and though they didn’t punish failure as they once had, that had oddly only had the effect of making her want to succeed more.