After scheduling a meeting, perhaps not with the best of grace, Mehmed Selim, desolate man of trouble he was, proceeded with trusted escort to Planet New London to parley with the Prime Minister at her formal office. The space travel was ostensibly the easier leg of the journey, little nuisances besides the typical lane raiders kept in check by defenses tipped with high-energy guns. No, the hard part was after the orbital elevator brought the Templar down to atmospheric level, what with the infamous, constant rain one had to contend with after stepping out onto the landing port concourse. All things considered with the hike from there, it was several minutes of misery between there and the infamous Downing Street that mirrored its ancient Terran counterpart. Post-war security probably didn't help, although the rather unique position Selim held at least would. It was time to get back in business -- and face the music that came with it.
The warmth of Number 10 was one of those "small things" that can make one's day for the Turk. His umbrella was already drying in the lobby and he was having tea with the prime minister. She had just brought the tray with two beverages that she had prepared on her own -- being the self-made person she was -- and the tea was still too hot to drink, but Selim enjoyed using it to warm the tanned skin of his hands. Certainly better than Volgograd, but New London was hardly a match for the climate of Gran Canaria and especially Carlisle, the two worlds where Selim was recently able to recover his natural complexion.
"I may have been harsh to you. Or her successor can mean many things. Do you think there is a conspiracy against me under way? Is that why you've come?"
The abode definitely held a certain charm to it, better than the planet outside for sure. Even with an umbrella the nigh-endless movement of water in New London's atmosphere had done a bit of wonder for darkening the browns of Selim's military attire -- appropriated from the Coalition, but bearing none of the insignia of the Communist state it had once been tailored in.
" No, not at all, Prime Minister. I just thought there was a slight chance the democratic processes of Bretonia had defeated you by now. What I came for was about the state of affairs in the Secret Service, and my political experiment on Carlisle, for the most part. A good lecture too, maybe, about going on extended vacations. "
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