Chapter 16 Diplomatic Immunity #2
Dante’s composure finally cracks entirely, revealing the possessive anger beneath his diplomatic facade. His face becomes a mask of barely controlled rage that transforms his already unpleasant features into something truly hideous.
“You belong to House Malren,” he snaps, his voice rising with indignation and taking on a whining quality that makes him even more repugnant. “Your father arranged our union to benefit both our houses. You cannot simply abandon your responsibilities for some alien infatuation.”
“Watch me,” Dominique replies with calm certainty that carries more weight than any threat.
“This is ridiculous,” Dante declares, his diplomatic training warring with obvious frustration.
His face has taken on an unpleasant mottled quality as his anger rises.
“I am offering you one final opportunity to resolve this rationally. Return to your proper place, and I will ensure your alien companion receives a diplomatic pardon for his temporary... misbehavior.”
The condescension in his voice makes my patterns pulse with irritation. He speaks as if I am a pet who has misbehaved rather than an agent of an established postal service with diplomatic credentials.
Before I can formulate a response that maintains diplomatic protocols while expressing my displeasure, another voice cuts through the communication channel—calm, authoritative, and utterly unimpressed with the proceedings.
“Prince Dante,” Diplomat Merida Toner’s image appears alongside his on the split screen, her timing suggesting she has been monitoring the conversation.
“How delightful to find you here ahead of our scheduled meeting. I trust your early arrival indicates eagerness to resolve these diplomatic complications through proper channels?”
Toner is a woman of middle years with steel-gray hair and piercing eyes that suggest she has seen every form of political maneuvering and found most of it tedious.
Her diplomatic credentials are displayed prominently on her uniform, indicating authority that supersedes even royal prerogatives in matters of inter-species law.
More importantly, her expression suggests she has been listening to this conversation with growing displeasure.
The contrast between Toner’s professional competence and Dante’s grotesque entitlement is stark. Where he radiates unpleasant self-importance, she projects genuine authority earned through skill rather than birth.
“Diplomat Toner,” Dante replies with forced cordiality, his voice noticeably strained. The comparison to the professional diplomat makes his own inadequacies even more apparent. “I was not expecting your early arrival.”
“Clearly,” she observes dryly, her tone suggesting that Dante’s surprise is neither unexpected nor particularly concerning to her. “I assume the Royal Fleet surrounding this civilian station is simply... enthusiastic escort protocol?”
“Security measures,” Dante explains, falling back on official justification while his face betrays his discomfort. “This situation has diplomatic implications that require careful handling and appropriate precautions.”
“Indeed it does,” Toner agrees with the kind of professional satisfaction that suggests she is about to enjoy herself. “Shall we proceed with our scheduled mediation? I believe Agent Wi’kar has prepared appropriate accommodations for our discussion.”
“Actually,” I interject, recognizing an opportunity when it presents itself, “this conversation can continue in its current format. All relevant parties are present and accounted for.”
“Excellent,” Toner says with professional satisfaction that does not quite conceal her amusement.
“Prince Dante, you have made serious allegations against Agent Wi’kar and the Orion Outpost Postal Service.
Kidnapping, corruption of a royal family member, violation of diplomatic protocols.
.. quite an impressive list of charges for a simple postal delivery situation. ”
“All of which are substantiated by evidence,” Dante replies with renewed confidence, apparently believing that formal proceedings will favor his position.
His face regains some of its arrogant composure, though he still looks thoroughly unpleasant.
“Princess Dominique was clearly abducted from the royal compound and subjected to alien influence techniques designed to compromise her judgment and autonomy.”
“Fascinating,” Toner observes with the kind of detached interest that suggests incoming trouble for someone. “Agent Wi’kar, how do you respond to these allegations?”
“They are completely false,” I state clearly, allowing my professional credentials to support my words.
“Princess Dominique stowed away aboard my vessel without my knowledge or consent. When I discovered her presence, I followed standard OOPS protocols for diplomatic complications involving royal personnel.”
“Which are?” Toner prompts, clearly already knowing the answer but wanting it on record.
“Protection of civilian personnel, avoidance of inter-species incidents, and resolution through proper diplomatic channels,” I recite with the precision of someone who has memorized regulations. “All of which I have fulfilled to the letter.”
“And the claims of alien influence?” Toner continues, her tone suggesting she finds the allegations dubious at best.
Dominique steps forward, her posture radiating confidence and determination.
“Diplomat Toner, I can address that directly. I am Princess Dominique of House Malren, daughter of King Marcus and heir to the Malren succession. I have been in full control of my faculties throughout this entire situation.”
“You were clearly compromised,” Dante interrupts with desperate insistence, his face contorting with frustration. “Financial surveillance shows systematic movement patterns designed to confuse and disorient tracking efforts.”
“You mean the route we took while you were illegally monitoring our legitimate OOPS transactions?” Dominique counters, her voice carrying the kind of cold fury that makes wise people step back.
“The violation of privacy through abuse of diplomatic access to STI financial records? The systematic stalking disguised as security concerns?”
Toner’s expression sharpens with interest, like a predator scenting wounded prey. “Elaborate on this financial surveillance, Princess.”
“Every fuel purchase we made, every docking fee we paid through standard OOPS expense protocols, was being tracked through STI public database access,” Dominique explains with clinical precision.
“Prince Dante has been following our route systematically using his diplomatic authority to access transaction records, turning professional postal service requirements into a hunting trail.”
“Is this accurate, Prince Dante?” Toner asks with deceptive mildness that does not quite conceal the trap being laid.
“Standard security protocols,” Dante deflects, clearly recognizing the danger but unable to avoid it entirely. His face takes on a defensive expression that makes his features even more unpleasant. “Royal family members require protection from those who would exploit their positions.”
“Protection that involves systematic monitoring of private financial transactions without informed consent?” Toner presses, her tone suggesting that Dante’s answers are only digging his hole deeper.
“That would constitute a violation of Stellar Transit Initiative privacy guidelines and abuse of diplomatic access privileges.”
Dante’s confidence begins to waver as he realizes the diplomatic implications of Toner’s line of questioning. The rules he thought would protect him are being turned into weapons against him. His face cycles through expressions of confusion and growing panic.
“The princess’s safety required—”
“Required what, exactly?” Toner interrupts with professional efficiency. “Unauthorized surveillance? Violation of financial privacy? Abuse of diplomatic authority for personal tracking purposes?”
“Now see here,” Dante begins, his diplomatic composure finally cracking entirely under the weight of mounting accusations.
His face becomes truly hideous as his rage transforms his features.
“I will not be lectured by some mid-level bureaucrat about royal prerogatives. Princess Dominique belongs to House Malren, and through our engagement, she belongs to me. This alien has simply interfered with property transfer protocols.”
The silence that follows his outburst is profound and dangerous. Even through the communication link, I can sense Toner’s displeasure radiating like a physical force. Dominique’s hand finds mine, squeezing with shared satisfaction at watching Dante destroy his own position.
“Property transfer?” Toner repeats with dangerous calm that suggests someone is about to experience the full weight of diplomatic consequences. “Did you just refer to a sentient royal family member as property, Prince Dante?”
“That is... not what I meant,” Dante backpedals frantically, finally recognizing his mistake. His face has gone from flushed to pale, making his already unpleasant features look sickly.
“I believe it is exactly what you meant,” Toner replies with the kind of precision that cuts through diplomatic double-speak. “And I believe we have heard enough to proceed with formal diplomatic resolution.”
She activates additional communication protocols, her authority expanding to include official STI mediation powers. The change is visible in her posture and tone—she is no longer simply observing but actively adjudicating.
“Prince Dante of House Folkov, you are hereby charged with abuse of diplomatic authority, violation of financial privacy protocols, illegal surveillance of royal family members, and attempted coercion of an autonomous individual.”