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Janis McMorrow

Elected as the Rightist Minister of Foreign Affairs under the Galdamez administration of the Terran National Government.

0 · 421 views · located in Tiānshì City

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Ylanne

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Originally formed after the Tripartite Occupation of Terra, the TNG once controlled all of Terra. Currently, the TNG's jurisdiction includes most of Terra's territory, but not the entire world.
Registered citizen of the Terran National Government

Description

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History

McMorrow brings a pledge for a more aggressive foreign policy during her term than her predecessor. “I will be working with Ms. Gordon and Mr. Galdámez in the effort to strengthen national defense, expand offensive capabilities, and improve our international standing,” said McMorrow. McMorrow is the former American Ambassador to China under the Maynard administration. Standing at only 5’3”, the Cleveland native quipped, “I’m probably going to be possibly the shortest member of the administration, except for Drulović.” With a bright smile, and red hair cut in a bob, McMorrow does not fit the harsh platform she has taken toward foreign incursions, particularly by the Aschen.

So begins...

Janis McMorrow's Story

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#, as written by Ylanne
It had not been a pleasant journey. Janis McMorrow had never enjoyed space travel. Perhaps she was prone to the same disdain for the method of travel that the former intelligence director had been—that or she simply disliked the feeling of weightlessness when the artificial gravity was turned off, and the strange sensation of turbulence in the vacuum of space. It was tolerable on a plane but nearly unbearable on a starship. The ship dedicated for the purpose of her trip was a civilian cruiser built both for speed and long-distance travel, unarmed, and programmed with a beacon to broadcast a friendly signal from the moment they crossed into Taiyou territorial space.

The middle-aged former Foreign Affairs Minister was a round-faced woman with glasses and graying hair that had once been an attractive fair color. She was dressed in an old-fashioned, militaristic pantsuit, with an ankle-length skirt and jacket with polished buttons. While the pilot maneuvered the ship, designated the Ozark Star, McMorrow sat in the spacious main passenger compartment, designed to hold up to fourteen comfortably, and sipped at a glass of wine while trying to avoid thinking about the fact that she was currently suspended in space.

"We're about another ten minutes out from Taiyou space," said the pilot, Corporal Brandon Westby, over the intercom. The Ozark Star was currently occupied by four people—McMorrow, an aide, Westby, and a co-pilot whose name she struggled to remember. Mc-something. Too many Mc-names. She'd never quite forgiven her parents for that little blunder, growing up in a predominantly Irish New England town where nearly everyone and their brother had a name beginning with Mc. She smirked a little at that, but did not respond to Westby's announcement. They'd be there soon enough.

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"We're currently waiting for clearance to enter the atmosphere and land planetside, Madam Minister," Westby's voice crackled over the intercom. "Could be a while. We've got a traffic jam."

"A traffic jam in space?" McMorrow uncrossed her legs, smoothing her dark blue skirt and setting the wine glass into a designated cup holder designed to keep it stable in the event of turbulence or zero gravity, and moved to the other end of the passenger compartment, poking her head past the door into the cockpit. "And I'm right here, Corporal; you don't have to use the intercom to communicate with me. What is this?" She nodded beyond the pilot's shoulder toward the window, where they could watch the massive traffic jam of slow-moving ships waiting in a queue for their turn.

"Probably bureaucracy," Westby said. "Or rush hour." The corporal allowed himself a rare joke, flashing a brief smile at the middle-aged minister. "Could be hours, could be minutes. No telling. I've never been out this way before, Madam Minister, but space traffic jams are pretty much like regular car traffic jams. They're all basically the same. Shi—uh, a TON of waiting." He attempted to censor his language for the sake of the woman, who offered a terse expression in response. She'd caught the near-slip, all right. "Just waiting for a hail," Westby tried to recover.

"Right."

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After the members of the Taiyou military or law enforcement—McMorrow was unable to determine which—had boarded the Ozark Star, the former minister inclined her head, not making eye contact with the officials as she returned to the passenger compartment and retrieved the documents for all four of them. Janis McMorrow, Corporal Brandon Westby, Lieutenant Lindsey McAllister, and John Tarosky. "You'll have to forgive us," she said, "we have Terran documents only." The shipping manifest listed only some food and medical supplies that they'd taken, and nothing else. McMorrow and John had driver's licenses and TNG government employee ID, while Westby and Lindsey had TAF military identification cards. McMorrow offered the documents to the officials. "We're here on diplomatic mission to His Imperial Majesty Tenno Haika from the Terran Resistance in the hopes of seeking Tenno Haika's audience."

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"We attempted to send a transmission ahead of our arrival announcing our intentions to travel, but I don't know if it was received, sir," McMorrow said. "Thank you." As they departed, Westby and Lindsey brought the engine back to life, heading in the direction that the officers had indicated in the station. It was a brief ride toward the docking station. McMorrow gathered what few things they'd brought with them and considered prudent to take from the ship, such as their paperwork, while waiting for the docking process to complete.

"Have you ever done this before?" Tarosky asked her, and McMorrow shrugged.

"Conducted negotiations with a party much more powerful than me? Yes. Traveled out of the galaxy to do it? Not so much, no." McMorrow smirked at the young man, adjusting the lapel of her collar. Tarosky thought it remarkable that a woman who had been a veteran of the armed services had then chosen to pursue a career in foreign service, culminating with her most recent appointment. But in keeping with his perception of his relative unimportance, he chose not to make comment.

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The four followed the Taiyou official into the AXIS chamber, waiting until the Taiyou Emperor had addressed them. McMorrow offered a deep bow, avoiding eye contact with the man as she'd also instructed the others to do. "We are here to petition your imperial majesty for aid against the Aschen Empire," she said, "which has violently overtaken our planet and subjected our people to a foreign occupation, summary executions, and arbitrary detentions, while glassing our beloved homeworld and threatening to visit further violence no those of us who wish a return to our previous government of our own people. We beseech your imperial majesty to consider offering aid to our people in this time of need."

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"The Aschen Empire, with God-Emperor Raphael McGregor at its head, has not only invaded and conquered our homeworld, but has also invaded the territory of the United Coalition of Organized Nations. We have no doubt that he has designs on AXIS as well," said McMorrow. "He believes the Multiverse is his domain for the taking, all of it, and he will continued to expand unless he is stopped. Our fear is that as more and more worlds fall to the Aschen advance, those remaining will have less of a chance to directly combat the Aschen Empire and restore order and uphold the right of individual nations to maintain their own sovereignty. We have no doubt that McGregor has no regard for His Imperial Majesty or the Taiyou Empire, or indeed any of the nations or peoples or beings represented here in this AXIS meeting today. The Aschen Empire has a blatant disregard for any being not of Aschen descent, and they have designs on Multiversal domination that could have negative ramifications far beyond Terra itself."

McMorrow turned toward the being that had just spoken. "Our world does not shun and reject the Taiyou; indeed, we have always had large settlements of Taiyou people in one of our major regions, and those people have enjoyed equal rights and citizenship as those not of Taiyou descent. Our intelligence director, Arianne Drulović, has visited Niihama in her official capacity, and has worked tirelessly to eradicate the Hataf terrorists after they attacked His Imperial Majesty's capital."

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"It doesn't seem very much in UCON's favor at the moment," McMorrow said, inclining her head again. "The Aschen have made significant advances into UCON-held territory with a type of blitzkrieg strategy. We are concerned that UCON alone will not be sufficiently capable of holding them off or throwing them off," she said. "But I have a proposal, Your Imperial Majesty. We will agree not to pursue or prosecute your wife now or in the future for the reasons we've been doing that. In fact, we're in the planning stages of an operation to rescue Director Drulović from Aschen custody, and it would not be difficult to include your wife in those same plans as we believe they may be held in the same area."

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"Have you decided to commit your forces to aid us, Your Imperial Majesty?" McMorrow asked, offering another deep bow from the waist. "Our numbers are small, and our ability to fight the Aschen Empire is vastly compromised by the gap in technology and numbers. We beseech you to offer your aid for us and for your subjects who have been living on our world." McMorrow realized she was making some of these decisions unilaterally, but there was no other choice.

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"I'll pledge it under Director Drulović's name, Your Imperial Majesty," said McMorrow. "We would benefit more in an alliance of some sort than at odds or with hostile relations. As I understand it, Director Drulović is the same woman who made peace with you when you last set foot on Terra, as well as the woman who engineered your wife's release from the former administration's custody." McMorrow knew Drulović would be less than happy about this, but it wasn't like the other woman had much say in the matter in her absence. "You will have our eternal gratitude."

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"I'll pledge it under Director Drulović's name, Your Imperial Majesty," said McMorrow. "We would benefit more in an alliance of some sort than at odds or with hostile relations. As I understand it, Director Drulović is the same woman who made peace with you when you last set foot on Terra, as well as the woman who engineered your wife's release from the former administration's custody." McMorrow knew Drulović would be less than happy about this, but it wasn't like the other woman had much say in the matter in her absence. "You will have our eternal gratitude."

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"We humbly thank you for your generosity, Your Imperial Majesty," said McMorrow, offering another bow from the waist. She was beginning to wonder how long they would be required to remain on Niihama before they would be permitted to return. The sooner she could return to that glass of wine she'd been nursing, and the sooner they could make their way back to the designated rendezvous point, the better it would be for all of them. McMorrow looked forward to bringing the news of Taiyou support to the Council. She kept her eyes on the ground for now, though, in a show of obeisance to the Taiyou Emperor. "And we will do everything within our means to ensure that your wife is returned safely here."

The setting changes from Niihama to Langara

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"Your divine order will ultimately fail," said Galdamez. "History has taught us this. No government, no political or theocratic institution can last forever or survive all present and future challenges to it. Even if you were to succeed in eradicating every last Terran identifiable as such by nationality, language, or biology, you will never succeed in eradicating all resistance, anywhere, for all time, against your 'divine order.' These things are only temporary, in the long run." If Arianne Drulovic were ever right about anything, she was right about the way things tended to work over such long periods of time. Galdamez eyed Raphael unflinching, seemingly unfazed by the weapons turned in his direction. Jamallah muttered something unintelligible under her breath, standing to her normal height now, her eyes narrowed as her gaze shifted evenly between Galdamez and the God-Emperor.

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"You're right -- most revolutions are characterized by violence and bloodshed. Though it's not quite accurate to say that there've been no attacks against the Empire." Galdamez removed his glasses, cleaning them mindlessly with his sleeve with tightly-pressed together lips before returning them to his nose and blinking at Raphael. "Gods have failed repeatedly through history," he said. "Neither immortality nor divinity can overcome the realities of politics and political cycles." He shrugged at that remark. "You can call it whatever you want -- a war, a resistance, a game, a hunt. It doesn't matter in the end, really. I doubt the historians will care too much."

Jelisaveta chose this moment to interrupt her superior, earning her a hardened glare. "I thought you said my mother had already been executed," she said, shoving some of her hair behind her shoulders as she spoke. Jamallah reached to place a placating hand on the younger woman's arm, but Jelisaveta shrugged away.

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"So much for meeting on neutral ground," Jelisaveta muttered, shaking her head. This time she let Jamallah squeeze her hand briefly. She glanced at Galdamez, who shrugged, slipping his thumbs into his beltloops and bouncing for a moment on the heels of his feet.

"Politics," he said, very nearly spitting the word as if it were a profanity and an abomination. "This is what tends to happen," he remarked. Galdamez watched the Divine Guardsmen with a casual disregard for what was about to happen to them. Unlike many fighting in the Resistance, the former law professor had never had much in the way of military experience, and decided that it would be an unwise decision to attempt to engage these people in combat of any kind.

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"What do you mean?" Jelisaveta asked, her eyes narrowing slightly, turning toward Raphael for a moment. She grabbed Galdamez's arm to steady herself as they were forced into the Aschen transport. "You said she was -- "

"Just stop talking to him," Galdamez said, interrupting the tall, fair-haired woman before she could continue. "Just let them take us to Ragnaar." Listening to Raphael's type of narcissistic gloating would be enough to drive anyone up a wall and out the roof. He'd had plenty of that.

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Galdamez smoothed the wrinkles from his suit jacket, clearing his throat as he looked to his left and right, seeing Jamallah lying against a tree trunk and Jelisaveta sprawled over a wrought iron park bench before he realized that he was half-sitting, half-leaning against a park bench in an odd posture. He squinted against the midday sun in the pleasant breeze and came to a straight sitting position, fixing his posture. "I-- Mrs. Dvorak? Jamallah? Are you two--"

He didn't need to finish his sentence as Jamallah waved at Galdamez, exhaustion creeping over her features. "Yes, I'm awake, goddammit. What is it, two, three -- you're... Why the hell are we in Glover Park?" She pushed herself to a standing position, approaching the benches where Jelisaveta and Galdamez were. "Do you know how we--" Jamallah looked about, suddenly paranoid. Jelisaveta's eyes slowly fluttered open.

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"No, I don't know where we are," said Jelisaveta, rubbing her eyes as she sat straight on the bench, blinking furiously at the other two Terrans beside her. "Or rather, when we are. I distinctly remember a chronosphere. Do you know when the hell they've taken us?" She nodded toward the park about them. "Or what exactly is going on?" Jamallah shrugged. Galdamez eyed the occasional passerby in the distance, his expression growing increasing concerned as he rubbed his jaw and furrowed his eyebrows. He shook his head.

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The three looked toward the officer, and Jamallah began to stammer a response before Galdamez narrowed his eyes and stared at the officer, avoiding looking at his weapon. "I was wondering if you knew the date," he said. "I was just a bit, ah, confused. Sometimes, I can't keep track of what year it is anymore because they seem to fly by, and my colleague and I were just having an argument over this; maybe you could settle our argument before I write her this note." Jelisaveta turned to face the officer as well, her gaze inspecting his appearance with the cool demeanor of a scientist observing a specimen under the microscope in the laboratory.

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Galdamez stared at the officer as he left, and once he was out of earshot, looked back toward Jamallah and Jelisaveta. "Did he just say -- ?" Jamallah found herself not quite able to finish the end of her sentence. She did a double take, her eyes widening slightly. "He just -- the hell kind of world did they send us to?" Her question was partially answered by a passerby holding what might have been some kind of newspaper, where she caught a glimpse of the phrase "divine shadow" and heard brief snippets of conversation with the same bizarre greeting. "I don't like this."

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"Absolutely..." Jelisaveta shook her head, straightening her collar as she inched closer to Jamallah, the two women making a strange pair -- the one fair-skinned with long, straight hair and bangs cut along razor-sharp lines and the other dark-skinned with long, twisting braids falling haphazardly about her shoulders. "What the hell kind of future is this?"

"It's not," said Galdamez, looking downward as they walked, heading away from the park and toward one of the less trafficked streets. "It's some kind of illusion. No one can predict the future to a science. That's impossible."

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Jamallah lifted her hands. "Sorry, officer," she said, "just took a wrong turn." She started to turn in the opposite direction, followed by Jelisaveta and Galdamez, who were keen on avoiding or creating an unfortunate situation with the law enforcement here. "Let's get the hell out of here," she muttered almost inaudibly to her companions, increasing her pace enough to spur the others along. They were moving along the causeway in the opposite direction that they had been going in before, toward the familiar golden dome of Government Center. Jamallah repressed a shudder at the sight of Aschen flags flying over the spires, curling and uncurling her fingers as they moved.

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"I, ah," Galdamez began, squaring his shoulders, when Jelisaveta pushed forward, interrupting the older man.

"We're here to see Arianne Drulovic," she said. "Is she here by any chance?" Jelisaveta didn't particularly care whether or not they recognized her, and in fact, did not expect them to do so, though given that this was supposedly a projection of a future Terra, she supposed it didn't matter much anyway. Galdamez shot her a scathing look.

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"Thank you," Jelisaveta said quietly as Jamallah fought to keep her jaw attached to her face at the sight of the prostrations toward Raphael's statue in the lobby. That had never been there before. What else had changed? "Let's go," she said, gesturing for Galdamez to take the lead. "You know where that is, right?" she asked the former law professor, who nodded with his lips pressed tightly together.

"I don't think this is such a great idea," said Jamallah. "We can leave anytime now, you know." She glanced backward, toward the people in the lobby making obeisance to the statue. She resisted the urge to vomit. "I don't think you want to see this, whatever's here." And she prayed none of the people here would recognize any of them as they moved through the hallways past the doors with the little bronze numbers and nameplates designating the occupants.

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Galdamez recognized this particular office. It had once belonged to the chair of the Leftist party, and was one of the larger suites on this floor of Government Center. Unlike Sumayyah Makawwi al-Baroudi, who had decorated the suite with ornate furnishings collected from throughout the Local Region, Drulovic's furnishings were decidedly sparse, with only the requisite desks and chairs, and nearly empty walls. She'd left the carpet as it had been in its original state, and the only additional furnishings were a set of heavy drapes in a plain beige currently pulled shut in front of the expansive windows. Drulovic was sitting behind the larger of the desks in the room, holding her tea in one hand while the other rested over a neat array of paperwork spread over the surface of the desk.

Jelisaveta slipped into the office first. "Hi, Mom," she said, leaning toward the older woman.

"I worship h -- " Drulovic had begun to speak by rote, when she caught the familiar greeting spoken in her daughter's voice. "Jelisa. What are you doing here? I imagine you have better things to be doing." Her shoulders slumped a bit as she peered upward at Jelisaveta. Galdamez and Jamallah remained in the doorway.

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Drulovic's eyes flickered to the man who appeared in the room, listening with palpable exhaustion as he gave his briefing. "Fine," she said, sliding a pair of reading glasses from her nose and laying them over the papers on the desk. "Tell the Intelligence Wing to initiate order 37. I suppose it's been long enough." She reached for the files that he had brought with him, sliding them toward her. "Where execution of that order fails, the survivors should be taken into custody for interrogation." Drulovic gave Jelisaveta an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, dear; I'm afraid it isn't a good time."

Jamallah cleared her throat. Drulovic's gaze caught sight of Galdamez and Jamallah in the doorway, and her expression betrayed the smallest bit of surprise. "We don't mean to intrude," said Galdamez, "but we thought we'd stop by for a quick hello." The lie fell flat on his lips even as it escaped them.