The National HQ of Blue Moon, with it's towering walls, elegant palisades and marble exteriors, stood at great contrast to the highly industrialized and bland cityscape that surrounded it. Low income housing was abundant and interspersed with multiple storied factories of smoke-stained concrete and palpable misery.

The divide between the rich and the poor was not a new concept to Sonja - her own living conditions in the Imperial Palace were suitably queen-like compared to the common farmhand or factory worker who toiled day in and day out with no chance for upward social mobility. Still, she saw more slumped shoulders in one drive through Blue Moon's capital than she had seen in her life back in Yellow Comet.

A difference in personal honor and responsibility, Sonja decided pridefully, although she had the self-awareness to ponder her own cultural arrogance. Thoughts for another time, she decided as her jeep pulled into the enormous semi-circle driveway leading up to the fortified mansion of Blue Moon's central headquarters.

She stepped out onto the intricately laid cobblestone walk wearing a simple overcoat over her tunic and long skirt. The weather in the middle of the city was more manageable than in the countryside, although the air quality left much to be desired. While her muscles were spared biting wind, her lungs were assaulted by the soot that fell like snow. Only a few moments of exposure incited a fit of coughing.

Between bouts of her body's attempts at ejecting her internal organs, she was forced to reevaluate her thoughts on the city's inhabitants. The people's down-turned gazes must, by necessity, be an attempt to find clean air. In fact, she was now suspicious that Blue Moon residents must be an offshoot of the human race that requires little or no oxygen whatsoever.

"Can I get you some water, Commander?"

Sonja looked up, but her eyes were too watery to make out anything but the newcomer's silhouette - fortunately with General Olaf's spectacular beard and impressive girth that was all she needed to identify him. Thinner, ephemeral shapes that surrounded him informed her that he was not alone.

"Yes please," she replied. Well, she said something intended as 'yes please' but more closely resembled the drowned voice of a kappa. The General seemed to get the gist of it nonetheless, and a canteen was passed to her. After a few seconds of completely unattractive gulping, Sonja handed the canteen back, wiped her eyes, and stood, once again the picture of control and propriety, albeit a red and swollen one.

She bowed before her host and what appeared to be a small group of other high ranking government officials, if the host of colorful insignias on their fine woolen coats were indication. General Olaf seemed to be beyond the need for such trinkets, and was dressed in his signature blue tunic and fur-lined cloak. A voluminous brown beard and mustache streaked with white fell halfway down his chest and left little visible of his face besides his bulbous red nose and beady eyes. He had an intimidating presence that still spoke with a touch of patriarchal love. Seeing the man, Sonja couldn't help but be reminded of her own father, the dull oaf whom after only a week of travel she was already starting to miss.

"General Secretary," she greeted Olaf. "Ministers," she said, bowing to each of the men and women present. "You have the thanks of the Imperial Empire of Yellow Comet, as well as my personal thanks, for receiving me as guest in your great nation. I -"

Sonja's exhaustively rehearsed greeting was interrupted by the sound of heavy tank treads rolling up the drive of the Hall. The group looked on: some astonished, some completely blank, and another - Olaf - furious, as a mobile artillery tank pulled up just behind Sonja's jeep with Commander Grit standing on the top, one arm wrapped around the huge blue-stained barrel.

Grit jumped down, landing next to Sonja and giving her a grossly inappropriate pat on the head.

"There you are. Was afraid I'd miss you riding this 'ol heap."

"Grit!" Olaf just about yelled, his face several shades of red deeper than just a moment before. "What the heck are you doing? You might as well have just ridden a missile back to the Square!"

"Well, I reckoned that, but I figgered it was just a tad more dangerous than I was comfterble doin'."

He looked around with a confused expression on his face.

"Why are y'all standing around like armless badgers fer? Idle around long enough an yer liable fer birds to start roostin' on ya." He punctuated this with a suspicious look skyward.

"We were making introductions!" Olaf responded, now so red that Sonja was surprised his hair didn't catch on fire.

"That seems a bit silly, what with y'all havin' met before..."

Grit shrugged and started heading towards the mansion. Olaf, seeming to have forgotten everything else, waddled after him, shouting obscenities.

"Grit, you disrespectful toad! Get back here, or I swear it..."

The remaining Ministers, their faces a mix of emotions, premier among them embarrassment, turned back to Sonja who reddened considerably herself. She forced an awkward smile and tried to recall the rest of her elaborate introduction, but none of it seemed to be coming back to her.

"Um... hi?"

With Olaf and Grit indisposed, the introductions and other niceties went smoothly, if stiffly. The Blue Moon ministers weren't unpleasant, but not one of them had any particularly notable traits or outstanding personality. Like someone drew several heads with different hats, but added the faces with a stamp, Sonja mused. They took her on a tour of the Hall, through a few galleries and meeting halls, the massive indoor garden with it's stunning fountain works. Still, Sonja found herself wishing the tour to end faster so she could get on with the reason for her visit.

Unfortunately, being proper hosts obligated the Party to invite her to join them for dinner, likely followed by a bout of lively drinking - that is, unless she could find an excuse to slip away to bed. An easy sell, considering the stereotypes she was well aware existed about Yellow Comet natives. Regardless, visiting the Containment Center was obviously not on the day's agenda.

"So does your facility have a library or study?" she asked the group as politely as she could muster. "I have a bit of research I can do prior to the banquet."

"Certainly!" one of the Minsters exclaimed. "Join us in my study - we were already planning to retreat there for some drinks anyway!"

"Oh... joy," she mumbled, feeling none herself.