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Polish People on Terrain For Which Java Is Renowned, Which I'm Pretty Sure Doesn't Actually Exist, But I Had To Keep The Trend Going


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With little fanfare or unnecessary pomp and circumstances was it that a communique from the chief executive of the Javanese Federation arrived in the hands of the foreign ministry of Poland.



To: The Foreign Ministry of Poland
From: Lestari Iskandar of the Javanese Federation

Kielbasa is cool, let's chill

I would like to open up relations with Poland as Java's first inroad to international diplomacy-- Poland and Java being two nascent, newborn nations, after all. If this is an amenable proposition to you, then I would be pleased to meet with representatives of Poland to discuss future relations between our nations-- whether in Jakarta or perhaps in Warsaw, however would be most agreeable to Poland.

Lestari Iskandar


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To: Lestari Iskander of the Javanese Federation

From: The Office of the Foreign Minister of Poland

CC: The Office of the President of the Fourth Republic of Poland


Ms. Iskandar


It would be the pleasure of President Sikorski and Foreign Minister Maczek to make a stopover in Jakarta, as they are in the midst of a tour in East Asia, performing liaison duties for the Fourth Republic with a few of your neighbors. I'm sure they would be delighted to make one last stop on their tour of East Asia, and what way to top it off better, than to make a stop in the beautiful archipelago.


We have accordingly adjusted their flight plans to head for Java upon conclusion of their last discussions, and they should be arriving within the next forty eight hours or so there. We will send a follow up transmission to this one once we know the status of their departure, and they are looking forward to meeting you. We thank you for your message, and look forward to warm relations with your nation.


Best of Regards,


Hannah Powolzcski

Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs

Special Polish Representative to the United Nations General Assembly


Powolzcski had provided the Javanese Federation with a positive reply once it had been cleared with the Polish diplomatic delegation that was now on a layover in Dai-Tōhoku, following the conclusion of negotiations with officials there. Although both Sikorski and Maczek were relatively tired from their travels throughout the Far East, it was decided that there was one last stop they could make. Maczek was even a giddy at the change of plans despite some lingering weariness; he was an admirer of the Spice Islands, and was now being given the opportunity to mix a little business with the personal pleasure of being able to visit them.


Following a clearance from Dai-Tōhoku's air traffic control, the fueled up airliner would depart from Sendai and would issue a flight plan with regional officials that would take it southwest, between Formosa and Selenarctos, headed towards the South China Sea and the Indonesian Archipelago...

Edited by TheShammySocialist
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Lestari Iskandar liked to think she wasn't the anxious sort.

After all, you couldn't be-- not when you were an officer as she had been for much of her life. On the battlefield, hesitation, fear, doubt-- these things led to disastrous consequences, perhaps even more calamitous than the choices of those who were certain of that which was definitively wrong. But then, even before she had ever imagined she would make a career on the battlefield, she had prided herself on being a figure of decisive action: someone who knew what had to be done and did it and didn't let hell or high water stop 'em (though as a soldier she'd learnt bullets and missiles tended to do a better job of that than 'hell' or 'high water' anyway).


Unfortunately, this wasn't a battlefield. This was a realm much more dangerous-- a realm of greater intrigue and greater potential for loss, a realm she found much more intimidating than the most devastated, ruinous of battlefields-- this was politics. And right now, her primary concern was how not to bore the president and foreign minister of Poland half to fucking death.


I mean, just how much leeway do you have to make a diplomatic meeting interesting? Lestari inquired of herself yet again, attempting to extricate some sort of clarity of thought from an otherwise incomprehensible pandemonium of half-bake possibilities. I guess there's always the whole 'helicopter over Mount Bromo' angle for natural beauty and such, but I can't imagine it'd be a whole lotta fun shouting over the damn thing's rotor. The Sumatran rainforest is way out, unless I want my first diplomatic venture to end with the Polish president being eaten alive by mosquitoes. ... fuck, man, I almost miss how straightforward the military was.


She'd asked Chiquita if she had any ideas on the subject, whereupon the Kopassus commander had returned her query with a few seconds' blank stare and then suggested she challenge the Polish president to a no holds barred fist fight to 'break the ice'. Which, now that Lestari thought about it, was really about all she coulda expected from Chiquita, so she kinda deserved it for asking her in the first place.


A no holds barred fist fight... if only that were possible. It'd sure as hell be a lot easier to deal with than the whole 'actually communicating with other living things' bit.

By the time information had been relegated to the Polish foreign ministry to direct the president and foreign minister to Kabanjahe Airport in the Karo Regency of Sumatra, however, the chief executive had made up her mind, and decided to go with something decidedly... well, simple and down to earth. Admittedly, Lestari's method of achieving this result had been to try and place herself in the Polish president's shoes and consider how she woulda wanted her next diplomatic meeting to go taking into account the several ones she had already partaken in, so maybe it was only appealing from her own perspective, but... well, it'd have to be seen.


For the time being, however, the former soldier contented herself to wait on the tarmac as the vessel bearing the Polish president and foreign minister descended unto the runway, the greying bristles of her hair unruffled by the breeze rolling through the Minangbakau Highlands, awaiting the initiation of the meeting.

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The trials and tribulations of Lestari Iskandar were not ones that were being felt on board the Polish transport as it went "feet wet", after passing over the rugged rolling terrain of Borneo, flying southwest. Although there had been some tense moments during their last couple visits, Lech Sikorski and Wadislaw Maczek had soldiered through two important meetings to their conclusions. The Javanese Federation would be their final stop in East Asia, before finally heading home, and both were physically showing the signs of jet lag that they had been enduring since their trek began. Nonetheless, the optimistic Maczek, who had had some tense moments during their last meeting, was looking forward to touching down in Indonesia, and the unwavering Lech Sikorski was somewhat influenced by the man's positive atmosphere.


Unlike their first day or so in Hong Kong, this time the duo, along with their aides would come prepared for the warm weather they expected to encounter in the Indonesian archipelago. They had donned some relatively formal outfits, but were far from being something that would be worn at an international gala affair. Sikorski had requested a briefing from the foreign minister before landing, who would graciously provide him with one. But the briefing left a number of questions that the Polish leader would probably discover over the course of the visit. The Javanese Federation had no logged formal diplomatic ties, and it seemed the Poland would be one of the first state visits to the nation since it had gained independence.


As he watched his deputy stare out the window excitedly as they approached Sumatra, Sikorski would smile wistfully, he was torn between the optimism fueled by Maczek, but also the fact he had been away from his family for a good while. It had been well established that his job would take him away from his family several times, but this trip highlighted that much more than anything else. It was at that instant that he decided that the next diplomatic visit, he would surely drag his family along for. He had told too many stories about his travels to his children, giving them various trinkets, but it was time for them to experience what he experienced.


His thoughts would be shaken up by an aide informing them that they were approaching their destination, and he would nod his thanks, looking out the window at the broken terrain of hills of green surrounding Kabanhaje. He sat down and buckled up as the pilots began pre-landing checks, and established radio contact, before gaining approval for a landing.




As a stairway was brought up the Polish government airliner, Sikorski would shield his eyes against the light of the sun, and smile down at the Javanese official and her delegation that had come to meet them. With a polite smile, he would descend the steps at an even pace, and walk forward to Lestari Iskandar with an open hand, Maczek following in tow.


"Lestari Iskandar, I presume?" he asked, in more of a rhetorical fashion. "Lech Sikorski, it's a pleasure."

Edited by TheShammySocialist
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And so began the harshest campaign Lestari Iskandar had ever waged.

Okay, now I'm just bein' needlessly hyperbolic, the chief executive rebuked herself silently as President Lech Sikorski and Foreign Minister Wadislaw Maczek descended from their plane-- probably not the harshest, but as formidable battles went, this was definitely somewhere up there, even if it was being waged with words rather than with bullets. But hell, at least bullets Lestari was comfortably familiar with. She'd fired plenty of them and had plenty fired back, and she'd definitely gotten a lot more intimate than she woulda liked with a few bullets in her time. Words, though? That was some scary shit, man.


Fuck, now I'm just being hyperbolic again. I sound antisocial or some shit. It wasn't that she was antisocial-- she'd just figured she'd take the same approach to this encounter as she took with any other. Down to earth. Straightforward. Easygoing. So on and so forth. Not that she was where she was now because of any particular diplomatic skill either-- she was here because years and years ago, she had been the one person who had done what it'd taken to guarantee Indonesia would someday be a sovereign nation again. Perhaps that wasn't the most apt of priorities when it came to electing a head of state, but on the other hand, there was exactly one person Lestari trusted to guide Java in the right direction, and that one person was Lestari Iskandar.


By that time, the Polish representatives had emerged at last and were now striding toward her, so Lestari shut the fuck up and stepped forward to meet them, shaking Sikorski's hand and then Maczek's in turn. "Pleasure to meet you, President Sikorski, Minister Maczek," she greeted, just as she'd rehearsed about a half a billion times up 'til now. She returned Sikorski's smile with her own, a vague but discernible upturn at the corners of her svelte lips as she turned to lead the two Polish delegates over toward the car that was to bear the three to their destination. "I hope you won't mind a few more minutes in transit," she added in an apologetic tone as she opened the door for them to enter before doing so herself. "There's a small village not far from here, called Merdeka, which hosts a distant open-air plaza that affords one an excellent view of Mount Sinabung and the surrounding highlands. It's always quite cool and breezy up there, which, believe me..." She couldn't help a tinge of facetious exasperation to her voice. "... is definitely a benediction during the Sumatra summers."

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Sikorski continued to smile politely as he introduced Maczek, the trio exchanging handshakes and the usual pleasantries as most diplomatic missions did when they began. As Lestari turned to lead them towards the car, Sikorski took stock of his surroundings, the likes of which he had never truly seen before. It kind of reminded him of Southwestern Poland, where rolling hills interspersed with greenery and low mountain tops, but these mountains and ridges seemed much more foreboding than those of the Carpathians. The rolling of a mist cloud caught his eye, and he had no doubts in why they called these islands mysterious in their own way. His reveling in the location he now found himself in was broken as he arrived at Maczek's side by the car, whose door Lestari held for them quite graciously and uttered an apologetic line.


"Not an issue at all, I was quite caught up by the land we've found ourselves in to be honest, Ms. Iskandar," remarked Sikorski, as the trio settled into their seats. "I'm sure that transiting to a new destination will be quite interesting, I've never been one to travel much before becoming President, and now I find myself in Southeast Asia, a region always associated seemed to be associated with mystery and intrigue."


"Quite honestly, an open air plaza offering some spectacular views might be what the doctor ordered, the last meetings we've had have both been indoor affairs in much more, how do I say it, complex settings? If what you offer is a simple table in a plaza, I think at this point, that might be a welcome destination," added Maczek, adjusting his collar against the heat of the day.

Edited by TheShammySocialist
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Lestari smiled.

Well, there's that done with.


As promised, the voyage to Merdeka was expeditious and proceeded at a brisk pace, short of giving the conventions of diplomacy the metaphorical finger and just ripping down the road at a hundred and thirty miles per hour. When it came to the rather more rural regions of Sumatra such as Merdeka, rapidly succumbing to the benediction of urbanisation and the expansion of the Javanese metropolitan system, there was really no option other than the 'scenic route', so to speak-- and so it was that the urban locale of Kabanjahe gradually gave way to the by and large untamed highlands, the mountains looming off in the distance, languishing beneath the dubious solace of the clouds. The state car in which Lestari and her two counterparts from Poland awaited their arrival at Merdeka continued along a civic road that cut through the highlands, a speck against the vastness of the highlands. Such reserves of nature largely undisturbed (well, relatively) by the encroachment of urbanisation were rare in the island of Java itself-- which Lestari certainly was not lamenting. Those steps were a necessity in providing the highest quality of life to all citizens of the Federation. But she would certainly see to it that such pristine examples of unpolluted nature as were exemplified by precious few rural regions of Sumatra continue to remain as such.

At the very least, they'd always offer a bit of respite from the ceaseless activity occurring in the capital.

Little changed as the car rolled into Merdeka-- it could certainly not be called a backwater village by any means, but the little town was humble, its constituents ekeing out a contented existence in affinity with the nature around them and relying on the proximity of the city of Kabanjahe for needs that the town itself could not sustain. It was high noon, and the town's populace were out and about, enjoying the cool breeze that swept over the highlands, providing the townspeople with a refreshing respite from the brutal heat suffered at lower elevations. The three delegates were to have the small vista the car eventually arrived at to themselves, however: a humble wooden table was situated at the centre of the little stone plaza, accompanied squarely by three chairs. The enigmatic spectre of the cloud-capped Mount Sinabung lurked in the distance of the horizon, across a plateau of vibrant deciduous trees and tussock grasses dusted with a light smattering of heather that lent the vast plains a hint of magenta. From the central perspective the stone vista offered, it almost felt as though the highlands extended eternally in all directions-- the mountains that framed them little more than phantoms of a non-existent world beyond, an infinite plane of wistful bygone eras long before the intrusion of humanity.

Or hell, maybe that's just me waxing all poetic or some shit.


As President Sikorski and Minister Maczek settled at the table, the chief executive herself vanished momentarily, only to return in short order bearing cups of hot Sumatran coffee. She set two cups down before Maczek and Sikorski in turn, before settling down at the table herself. "I felt I would be remiss were I to fail to provide an example of the coffee for which Sumatra has gleaned such worldwide notoriety," she added by way of explanation. Hopefully, neither of the two were allergic to coffee or some shit. That woulda been awkward as all hell.

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When many people thought of the East Indies, it was quite sure that your usual ignorant citizen within the world thought that you would always be able to say white, crisp sand beaches wherever you went. Such scenes would of course be interspersed with lots of palm trees, with the lurking possibility of having Komodo Dragons eat you in the night and turn such beautiful scenes of into nightmares for their victims. This was, of course, farthest from the truth as the trio would proceed out of the airport and into the highlands of Central Sumatra, which was, for lack of better words, a sea of lush green. It reminded Sikorski of some of the state forests near Bialyotsk, in the northern part of the Fourth Republic, except this was a different type of green, a lighter, brighter one, that almost hurt his eyes, that were used to such lower reflective light.


Nonetheless, after donning a pair of simple sunglasses that were not tacky nor flashy, but just practical for him, the Polish President would stare out the window as they passed through the lush ocean of vegetation. Maczek seemed to be enjoying himself as well, sitting at the window and letting his hand hang out, the moist tropical air making it perspire, but he did not seem to mind at all. Sikorski smiled wistfully at the display, he was well aware of Maczek's love of all places tropical after hearing him chatter about various vacations into the Caribbean and northern South America. The history of those island colonies were interesting to Sikorski, who was more amenable to viewing pictures of old Spanish forts and such that Maczek would show off from his vacations, instead of the dozens of tropical birds that Maczek had photographed instead.


Arriving at the town of Merdeka, the rush of air from the car driving along the roads would cease, and the two Poles noticeably perspired, even in the highland breeze, as they stepped out into the warm day. That did not stop them from taking stock of their meeting venue, a simple wooden table, with a spectacular view that you probably couldn't find most places in the world. Sikorski smiled warmly as he surveyed the land, a blanket of warmth and color, against the backdrop of a mountain that dominated the skyline of their picturesque venue. Whilst Lestari excused herself for a moment, both Polish delegates took a heavy seat in their chairs, just taking in the ranges and blanket of green they had found themselves in.


"I wouldn't say notoreity, I'd say fame, more than anything," chuckled Sikorski, when Lestari quipped about the coffee, as she took a seat and he poured himself a cup. "Though I must say, I would think that your great nation would be known for its spices more than anything, traders from the world over have plied the islands for probably centuries seeking out the sweet and spice that comes from these lands."


"How do the old Spice Islands fare these days, if you mind me asking?" asked Sikorski, as Maczek poured himself a cup of the steaming liquid, resolving himself to sample the liquid, despite the heat of the day.

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