OPERATION: SALT THE EARTH - Log 12
Mar. 8th, 2018 03:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsEmma bumps into Orehkov at the party.
The champagne was flowing more easily than one would expect, but the introduction of CHERNOBOG was always intended to be a show. It would be over the next two days that the negotiations for Orehkov and his research would begin in earnest. It was not a question of price, or not just a question of price. The Russian government wanted either a specific group or a coalition that could guarantee the funding and support to see it developed on their timelines. The party was the party of a careful dance to probe competitors and learn their contours of their own plans.
Orehkov took a long sip from his glass as he moved from group to group, happily accepting the congratulations and flattery that they hoped would move him to their faction.
Emma saw Orehkov working his way through the party, barely taking a moment to acknowledge the many plaudits aimed at him, instead taking the opportunity to soak in the room-wide adulation. It would take more than some flattering words to keep his attention for more than a moment. With a few subtle movements, Emma adjusted the top of her dress to ensure her cleavage strained in such a way as to look like, at any moment, it would spill out of its confinement and that the length of her legs was accentuated by a shift that ensured the subtle split in her skirt was no longer subtle.
In his youth, Orehkov was an attractive man, but now he looked somewhat washed out. The years of professional exile had been telling on him, making the flush from success and the wine more obvious.
"Thank you, Minister. I will consider it." He turned into the full view of Emma. "Oh. Oh... " He snapped his fingers twice. "More champagne for myself and... you?"
Emma inclined her head in graceful acquiescence. Her cool gaze swept Orehkov from top to toe and then back to his face, her expression showing nothing that would indicate what she had judged and whether he had passed. "Alina Petrovich," she said, extending her hand, an ambiguous gesture that made it unclear as to whether she was expecting Orehkov to shake it, kiss it or pass her a champagne glass.
Orehkov took her hand lightly and nodded his head over it to her. While his looks had deteriorated, his social graces had not and he was not completely bereft of the charm of his youth. "It is a pleasure, Ms Petrovich." He passed over a glass of the fine champagne they had ordered in by the truckfull earlier. "Did you enjoy the presentation? I'm curious to see how our guests found our star's debut performance."
Emma smiled, dropping her eyes in deference to Orehkov's status. "It was very interesting," she responded. "I am both scientist and patriot. I would think my questions are obvious. Can it be used safely? Can it be used against us? If it is, can it be stopped?" She lifted her eyes, her raised eyebrow a challenge. "I have spent the last few years working in diplomacy. I am not a woman who trusts."
"The answers to all of your questions, Ms Petrovich is the responsibility of the group that earns the privilege of supporting my work to determine. Our initial research suggests that any kind of runaway replication - the grey goo theory, as it were - is near impossible. CHERNOBOG creates a chain reaction, but it fuels it, as opposed to the reaction self-sustaining. We have considered working on a solution to stop the reaction, but right now, it is secondary. We're confident no one else is currently on any kind of development level with a similar weapon."
“Mmm,” responded Emma, taking a moment to take a sip of the, she admitted with a small amount of surprise, really quite excellent champagne. She tilted the glass towards Orehkov, with an approving expression. “I would hate to consider what CHERNOBOG could do if someone releases it near the vineyards in Champagne,” she said. “I know such pleasures are small things in the great sweep of history but… I would miss the taste of a fine champagne. And this is a very fine champagne.”
"A presentation like this merits the finest. And while I would mourn the loss of such a fine wine, I'm sure the prospect to the French would be terrifying enough to back them off of a NATO position if we wanted. That is the beautiful elegance of it. It isn't about crude destruction. It is about bankrupting the value of a land forever. Making a country a wasteland, regardless of how boldly they might want to defend it."
"A weapon that would have to be used sparingly," responded Emma. "Absolute destruction invites absolute retaliation. But I can see how it could be helpful in maintaining... diplomatic relations." Her blue eyes flashed from beneath lowered lashes, accompanying a devastating smile. But then her gaze lifted over Orehkov's shoulder and sharpened. "You must excuse me," she said. "It looks like Dr Volkov needs me for a moment. Perhaps we can continue this conversation later."
The champagne was flowing more easily than one would expect, but the introduction of CHERNOBOG was always intended to be a show. It would be over the next two days that the negotiations for Orehkov and his research would begin in earnest. It was not a question of price, or not just a question of price. The Russian government wanted either a specific group or a coalition that could guarantee the funding and support to see it developed on their timelines. The party was the party of a careful dance to probe competitors and learn their contours of their own plans.
Orehkov took a long sip from his glass as he moved from group to group, happily accepting the congratulations and flattery that they hoped would move him to their faction.
Emma saw Orehkov working his way through the party, barely taking a moment to acknowledge the many plaudits aimed at him, instead taking the opportunity to soak in the room-wide adulation. It would take more than some flattering words to keep his attention for more than a moment. With a few subtle movements, Emma adjusted the top of her dress to ensure her cleavage strained in such a way as to look like, at any moment, it would spill out of its confinement and that the length of her legs was accentuated by a shift that ensured the subtle split in her skirt was no longer subtle.
In his youth, Orehkov was an attractive man, but now he looked somewhat washed out. The years of professional exile had been telling on him, making the flush from success and the wine more obvious.
"Thank you, Minister. I will consider it." He turned into the full view of Emma. "Oh. Oh... " He snapped his fingers twice. "More champagne for myself and... you?"
Emma inclined her head in graceful acquiescence. Her cool gaze swept Orehkov from top to toe and then back to his face, her expression showing nothing that would indicate what she had judged and whether he had passed. "Alina Petrovich," she said, extending her hand, an ambiguous gesture that made it unclear as to whether she was expecting Orehkov to shake it, kiss it or pass her a champagne glass.
Orehkov took her hand lightly and nodded his head over it to her. While his looks had deteriorated, his social graces had not and he was not completely bereft of the charm of his youth. "It is a pleasure, Ms Petrovich." He passed over a glass of the fine champagne they had ordered in by the truckfull earlier. "Did you enjoy the presentation? I'm curious to see how our guests found our star's debut performance."
Emma smiled, dropping her eyes in deference to Orehkov's status. "It was very interesting," she responded. "I am both scientist and patriot. I would think my questions are obvious. Can it be used safely? Can it be used against us? If it is, can it be stopped?" She lifted her eyes, her raised eyebrow a challenge. "I have spent the last few years working in diplomacy. I am not a woman who trusts."
"The answers to all of your questions, Ms Petrovich is the responsibility of the group that earns the privilege of supporting my work to determine. Our initial research suggests that any kind of runaway replication - the grey goo theory, as it were - is near impossible. CHERNOBOG creates a chain reaction, but it fuels it, as opposed to the reaction self-sustaining. We have considered working on a solution to stop the reaction, but right now, it is secondary. We're confident no one else is currently on any kind of development level with a similar weapon."
“Mmm,” responded Emma, taking a moment to take a sip of the, she admitted with a small amount of surprise, really quite excellent champagne. She tilted the glass towards Orehkov, with an approving expression. “I would hate to consider what CHERNOBOG could do if someone releases it near the vineyards in Champagne,” she said. “I know such pleasures are small things in the great sweep of history but… I would miss the taste of a fine champagne. And this is a very fine champagne.”
"A presentation like this merits the finest. And while I would mourn the loss of such a fine wine, I'm sure the prospect to the French would be terrifying enough to back them off of a NATO position if we wanted. That is the beautiful elegance of it. It isn't about crude destruction. It is about bankrupting the value of a land forever. Making a country a wasteland, regardless of how boldly they might want to defend it."
"A weapon that would have to be used sparingly," responded Emma. "Absolute destruction invites absolute retaliation. But I can see how it could be helpful in maintaining... diplomatic relations." Her blue eyes flashed from beneath lowered lashes, accompanying a devastating smile. But then her gaze lifted over Orehkov's shoulder and sharpened. "You must excuse me," she said. "It looks like Dr Volkov needs me for a moment. Perhaps we can continue this conversation later."
