The Director's Story

The alarms did not ring, the guards were not alerted, and any attempt to do so would fail, thanks to a little bit of wire cutting by a pair of mice. The man was there, not loudly, not obviously. He merely stood where once nothing stood. He was light skinned, with a shock of pitch black hair, and odd glowing eyes. "Archduchess, I believe we need to speak." No warning.

Nothing.

"You may call me The Director." He said pleasantly. "And your ships have unauthorized technology on them." He sounded very pleasant. "The Erutins, after all, no longer govern the use of the Traveler's Jump." He smiled slightly. "I would't touch the gun. And attempts to summon your guards won't work. The cameras see you working at your desk. The guards are not...able to be summoned."

"No doubt that the former Empress...Lady Thistle is it? has complained that the Traveler division is missing? We claimed a solar system. Five planets. While we don't take back what you have developed, I would not develop further on it." The director seemed perfectly calm. "You have a family, correct? Camille, Todd, Adam, Ellis, Randal, and wee sweet Linde?" The man shrugged. "You are highly protected? Are they?"

The Director smiled. "Alpha team, please prepare." He said and smirkedslightly. "Ready to secure the scientists." The Director seemed to speak into thin air, then tapped her ear. "Direct mental link. Required to be a Traveler." She smiled slightly. "Wing had one too. Thistle...lacks."

"Alpha team, secure the first group." He said and didn't respond to Redwing. The man merely stood there, wrist held loosely behind him in the other hand He waited patiently. There were seven other groups prepared to go. He had time, and was clad in full armor, so wasn't too worried about being shot. "Beta team, ready."

"I worship nothing. My people might, they are free to. But as for myself? I worship no man, no woman, no supposed god or goddess." He shrugged, pleased he had gotten under Liese's skin. "I will admit he was a great man...who should have been dead a very long time ago. Many hundreds of years ago." The director smirked. "As he was a man...with an artificial life."

"Mine already are." He admitted. "Four little girls, infiltrating already. Sweet little things." He said, pleased. "Your public school systems are very strict. I admit that one of the original five died." He didn't seem bothered. "Killed two with that one, but oh well. I can always have more."

"Shot? Not likely, considering they are all older and graduate soon. They've been registered sense birth...or the children who they took over for have been." He shrugged. "The Erutin nation was weak. Grew weak. Colonization is our culture, and that Empress Wing was seduced by your former monarch...a sad fact. Beta, dispose."

This was entirely too much fun, and the weak point was entirely too much fun to poke at. If he didn't watch it. "Gamma, secure." He had to be patient, that was for sure.

And that was what he had been waiting for! His cue to leave! He left, the shot splashing over his armor and scorching it badly as he did so. Always pleasant dealing with the Belkans. The buttons were damned obvious to push, and it was absolutely delicious.

Planet Sunswept was well within the Imperial Remnant of the Belkan controlled states and had peacefully agreed to follow the new Empress without a shot fired, the thought of doing anything else far from their minds. Indeed, here, the Belkans had been welcomed as oddities, but interesting enough ones that most didn't mind their presence on the planet at all.

It was a beautiful green planet, almost purely agricultural, minus a fe tropical paradise areas, where resorts for the planets residents operated. The capital city was peaceful, a pleasant place, as far as an occupied country was, and the Belkan soldiers were treated with much respect here. Indeed, there were fireworks and festival in their honor today, the festival having just begun.

Festivals goers streamed on either side, on their way for rare treats on Erutin worlds and 'Belkan' fare that wasn't really all that Belkan at all. One bamed happily and stopped to talk with him. "Hail Kampf sir! Isn't it wonderful today!"

"Oh yes! Very well. Too bad about the alien infestation though. I'm just so glad it's being cleared up!" She seemed enthusiastic. "I just wanted to thank you for your service." This was a peaceful planet, that had no issues, that largely did suspect the Belkan of anything. Just don't destroy the farms and they won't mind having a new govenment at all.

"Oh yes. They're called Belkans. And they're going to die." She still sounded chipper, so hopefully it would take a second for the wrods to register as she pulled a plasma pistol from an otherwise empty purse and fired it at him. She wasn't the only one. Chaos erupted s around twenty others, all having been part of the crowd, opened fire on nearby Belkans.

"In the name of the Director!" She shouted loudly, echoed across the festival plaza.

The woman continued to fire as she went down, and after only a handful of minutes, in flashes of light, the attackers disappeared, their goal accomplished. The scene would be repeated in various places on planet. Go ahead and try and stop them. The attackers were not without casualties, the initial shooter dead to the world, along with two others.

Short and sweet, the Traveler nation would not fight fair battles.

The Director however, was, and he was keeping an eye on the fellow with him, an equally nondescript face, completely unmemorable. The Director would never be able to retire, not like Stahl, and did jobs like this more for the thrill than anything else. Still, dressed as a renegade Erutin, he was enjoying this all too much. They had news for Miles Hagan, concerning his daughter, they had informed the secretary. Grave news.

This was fun. The Director joined Stahl and Hagan inside his office, closing the door behind him after ensuring the secretary could never all for aid again. A messy, if silent and quick task, the body hidden under her own desk, so casual view would make it seem like she had stepped out for coffee or the restroom, instead of the truth.

"This shouldn't take up much of your time Mr. Hagan." The Director spoke, placing a picture of Julia, tied to one of the chairs in her cell, on his desk. "I believe we have something that belongs to you."

The Director shrugged at this and smiled. "She's fine, and relatively happy is very angry that we won't let her go, or let her fulfill her every whim." As if. "She's also fed well, so don't worry about her suffering. You see, as my associate said, we need some aid in regaining our empire, and not with this...false empress claiming to be empress Wing."

Empress Wing would never, ever submit to such a base thing as joining another empire after all. It would not do. "Your people have a weapon that we believe will be of great help to us. We want it, ad the blue prints to make more of it with."

Nothing major. Of course now.

"True. You're not doing it willingly, Hagan. And I would suggest not calling your security. Otherwise, your daughter won't be returned to you." The director put her hand on Julia's picture

"MAC cannons. The blue prints, and a single cannon. Surely that's worth the price of your child." If not, then he knew the girl would be killed.

The Director shrugged. "We'll be nice. You have 48 hours to decide." He said and smiled. "We'll know when you've made the right decision. After 48 hours? Well." She shrugged and smiled. "We'll see. I can't promise your daughter's safety from my superiors after that amount of time."

The Director put a hand on Stahl's shoulder. "She's a pretty girl, your Julia. I'd hate to see what would happen to her." She transported both of them out of there, threat made.

Unfortunately, thanks to Traveler tech, they left in the middle of his threat to him. After all, they had made their point, why would they stay around.

They didn't care for the Big Picture. All the rebels wanted was a fighting chance against their enemies.

The Empress sighed as she said on the golden throne and the smiled, ignoring her blood-splattered gown. The deaths of those who had been so foolish as to allow harm to come to her husband were very necessary. She could see no way to allow them to live. For now, her Emperor was, simply, missing. Those who were meant to protect him had come back without him, uncertain where he had gone.

It must be kept quiet, the loss. But how could it? He was their God! But she…she was their goddess now. She had a duty to the Scatterrans she now ruled, along with her own people, and she would not fail. Of course, the fact that this was her second husband that had disappeared would cause suspicion. Wing sighed and sat back in the throne.

“How does one handle the loss of one’s husband and god? With dignity.” And perhaps he was not fully lost. The empress ignored as acolytes were called to remove the body of the fools who had severely complicated her life. Or was it Josef who deserved her ire? Really, men complicated things. She should have just remained his lover, rather than wed him. It would have made things significantly easier. The Empress steepled her hands as she sat on the golden throne and considered things.

“Abbess, I am informed that the private medical facilities for my husband and I were destroyed in a fire?”

“Yes, Empress.”

That was all too suspicious and spoke of possible rebellion. The facility held the secret to Josef’s lack of aging and the inability to kill him. There were others of course, other possibilities, but only if the other facilities had not been destroyed as well. News from them had yet to return to her. That alone made her rather suspicious.

“Very well. Call the head of the Landwachter to me. I would speak to him.” And after she spoke to him, she would speak to her people. But first, she needed heightened security where her husband’s clones were stored, in stasis, along with the material that should contain the majority of his memories. “And the head of my Seraphim. I would have the royal protection on my heirs doubled until whoever dared attack the crown in that way is caught.” She considered things carefully. Her people would need a scapegoat, someone to purge for the loss of their emperor. If he appeared later, then that only solidified his Godhood, but who knew when her Josef would appear once more.

“In the meantime, Director I need a house or a people to blame for the loss of the Emperor’s Earthly form. Of course, only his earthly form was destroyed, and I want that to be made clear. I will hold a press conference shortly to ensure that is well known.”

“Of course Empress.” The director, nondescript as ever, assured her. It would be done, evidence would be planted for the Landwachter to later find. The Director and his people never hesitated when it came to following the Empress’ orders. “I will come up with an appropriate enemy within a half hour. Would you like me to write the announcement as well, Empress?”

“Yes, yes. Now go. We’re both going to be rather busy. Someone inform my press secretary that she’s to gather the press for a conference in, say, three hours.” It would be done. The Empress’ will was always done. Years of war and conflict had hardened her heart and now, well, none would stand against her. She hesitated after a moment and then closed her eyes. “Abbess? See that the Seraphim bring my heirs and their children to the palace. I believe it is time for ranks to close in the imperial family, however briefly. And Abbess? That includes my heirs not in line.” They would not be left out, and whatever had taken her husband would not also take her children. She would not allow it. Now, the question of whether to change. Perhaps, but perhaps not. She’d decide after reading the statement her people put together for her. She had the bloodlust of two very different people to consider after all.

Hm? The Erutin Empress was about to hold a conference? Oh boy, Grin thought! Time to sneak away from Mommy and Daddy while they wrestled and find out more about who he really was! Hm...first thing he would need was a spaceship. Lots of important-looking people were boarding one...easy enough to blend in that way. Lots of them also had something around their necks. He'd have to grab a dropped one, those looked harder to fake. "Press pass," one of them said. While the flustered man tried to argue his way past the guard that he was a real reporter that had lost his pass, Grin just smiled to himself while taking careful notes about the dude he was impersonating. Once he got into the conference, it wouldn't matter if he got small details wrong. Access was the important thing.

"Oh, you're that Terracast reporter!" the woman next to him smiled and held out a hand for him to shake. Hm...she looked kind of like Mommy...what would Daddy do? Ah yes. "W-wait! What are you doing? I thought you Terrans had bathrooms for that! Go in there if you want to change!"

A few minutes later, Grin was holed up in the spaceship restroom, blushing and wondering what he did wrong. People were weird. Then the announcement came up that everyone was to report to their seats in preparation for takeoff. Time to come out and maybe not talk to that pretty lady ever again, lest he further damage his credibility. When the guard came to check their passes, Grin confidently whipped his out, but covered the name with his hand. "Grin Brown, Terracast." The guard nodded and went on with it, clearly at the end of a long shift.

Finally, the spaceship rocketed off, toward the Inner Empire. The paparazzi had arrived, eager to catch shots of the Empress in the latest fashions. Erutin fashion was rather unique in that it was rather baggy to accommodate minor to moderate changes in the wearer's physique to suit their whim, but it was also highly sought after by performance artists of all sorts who needed to change outfits quickly. Whether one was a cosplayer, a con man, or a street performer, they would want to know every detail of the gown. But Grin was here for something else as well...to have a rare opportunity to ask what an Erutin was. To ask questions that nobody else could answer. And maybe, just maybe, to discover something about himself. But first, the in-flight meal, which was predictably bland. Yecch. He held out hope that the banquet would offer better.