NationStates Jolt Archive

A Fledermauss II helicopter droned over the rolling pasturelands south of Mirenburg, and, seeing a man signalling a landing below, among a confusion of people and vehicles. Two other helicopters were on the the ground there. The Fledermauss landed one of the nearby fields, flattening grass and shrubs. A man in a dark formal tunic and pants got out, adjusting his cap. He approached a Para-Commando officer, who was among others. There was a piece of wreckage in a clump of trees off the highway. A medevac helicopter was taking off.
The officer saluted.
"Well?" Baron von Shein asked, for it was he.
"We found Major von Fischer, injured...and with the mark of a dart on her. We assume a tranq. The vehicle has been tampered with." said Colonel von Paderborn.
"And how did this happen?"
The Colonel took a deep breath. "The Empress insisted on--"
"I know the Empress' habits. How is it that you failed?" Baron von Shein inwardly was moaning with horror. This was a disaster. Paderborn had failed--but HE was the Minister of Information.
Dogs were barking here and there among the grass.
"They've got a trail, sir!" a voice called.
"Get on this right away. And no notice to anyone--anywhere...that the Empress is missing."

OOC: Please, btw, this is not known until publically announced--or at least discussed among government or something. This took place in an isolated part of the countryside.

Hmm...interesting.

Baron Shein and Colonel von Paderborn hurried after the barking dogs, which had discovered something on a slope below the vehicle. They stared, aghast, at the still body of the Empress, her uniform tattered and dirty by the fall.
A medic hurried forward and bent over her. Looking up, she said, relief evident on her face, "She's alive--but some fractures for sure and a blow to the head!"
"Quickly now," snapped Baron Shein. "Secure Her Majesty. And Paderborn, call ahead for security to the Naval Hospital in Mirenburg."
As he followed them to the helicopter he was breathing a sigh of relief. The vehicle had malfunctioned...the Empress was thrown from it but landed on the grass and then tumbled. He just hoped to God that the Empress
would readily recover.

However, as he was flying to Mirenburg, his assistant in Hofburg phoned him on his secure line with terrible news.
The Archduchess Aurora had gone missing.
Since she was a thirteen year old child, the Empress' youngest daughter had at first been thought to have been seeking a little solitude on the grounds of the Palace of the Moon and Stars, the private residence in Hofburg. This was found not to be the case. A search was still being conducted.

A few hours later...
Archduke Valerian had been at his own estate with his fiancee when the news came, and was flown to Hofburg where he met with Chancellor der Waal and Baron Shein.
"What is my mother's condition?" the Archduke said. They were in the privy council secretary's chambers--less august but far better secured against listening devices. Shein noted how automatically the Heir avoided
his mother's customary seat.
"Her Majesty's condition has been stabilized. She will not be able to get up for a few weeks, I'm afraid...there are broken ribs as well as a broken leg, arm, collarbone, and there are small slight fractures as well in the hands and feet."
Baron Shein replied.
"When is she likely to be conscious?"
"Only time will tell." replied the Chancellor gently.
Archduke Valerian looks up at her. "Yes..." he sighs and rubs his forehead. "And my sister?"
"I spoke with Baroness Blixen, her governess. It seems that the mothplane has gone missing. We are widening the search."
"A wonderful day in Lavenrunz." Valerian says acidly. "Do I need to tell you your job, Shein? Find her!"

~ Secure Band Message--Send to SATO nations, in particular Ravenspire, Menelmacar and the Empire of the Eternal Dawn, but also to GMC Military Arms, Der Angst and members of the Atlantic Fleet: ~

The Empress Joanna's third child, Archduchess Aurora, has possibly been swept out over the sea in a small glider plane. A description in full is being forwarded. Give information to commanding officers and senior intelligence personnel only of ships and detachments. Please offer assistance in searching.
Many thanks
General Hans Schlabel, Minister for War
~ End Message ~

Secure message to Lavenrunz

It saddens us to hear that the Archduchess Aurora has gone missing. Alas we are to far away to have been able to pick up anything. And the chances our satelites picked something up is almost nihil. All we can give you is the best of luck in your search.
If you need any help from us. We shall gladly give it to you.
End message

Baron Shein's aide, Lieutenant-Colonel Kley, was pacing impatiently in the hall near the Empress' hospital chamber. Others sat, numb, some praying, some conversing quietly. Holding vigil.
At last, a tall Menelmacari elf strode out of the room and, ignoring other inquiries, took Kley aside.
"Well, Doctor Lindir?" the colonel demanded. "What is the Empress' condition?"
"The condition is stabilized...but that is not Empress Joanna. It has no birthmark, and the blood type is wrong. I say 'it' because it was never alive as you or I understand the term. It's a clone. Tissue and flesh and bone grown that looks remarkably like Empress Joanna--and bruised enough that no one thought to look for obvious differences." Doctor Lindir looked utterly grim, his eyes terrible.
Kley felt a horror he had never felt. "Not...the Empress? Oh, God!"

Hofburg

Baron Shein was enjoying some brandy and a cigar after supper at the home of the Chancellor--not that they were making merry, but they were all frayed in nerves and the Chancellor had insisted that they have a pleasant dinner to relax.
"This is a hallmark of civilization." the Chancellor was fond of remarking. "And we cannot do a better job while fretting and pacing about."
However, this did not dismiss their grave concern. General Schlabel brought up the point that the Empress must be persuaded to be more careful of her safety in future. Inside, he was nearly numb. He knew what the prevailing winds had been when the young Archduchess went missing. Would tragedy continue to dog the Von Sachshausen family? Was this the price to be paid for vigorous and attentive rule?
As they were speaking, the phone rang, and in a moment the Chancellor's valet entered the room, and, bowing, said, "Excuse me, Excellency," looking at Shein, "It is for you."
Shein went and took it,and to his surprise simply heard Kley start to speak.His face turned white, and he dropped his brandy glass.

A crowded market in a city in Iesus Christi

Two middle aged men were having a game of checkers at an outdoor cafe, with ersatz coffee and stuffed buns beside them.
"This isn't my usual contact time." groused one of them.
"Well, a little upsetting of routine is good for someone in your position." the other replied genially. "Got anything for me?"
"Yes. Rudi's place. At ten tomorrow." the first replied,and jumped a black piece to make a capture.

A park in North Star

Following afternoon prayers, a pleasant featured young man in a worn suit was handing small tracts on the words of the Prophet to those who passed by--an urging to greater prayer and meditation on "The works of the Prophet, Blessings and Peace be upon him..."
One of the men who received a tract took it and went to a public washroom. Reading it in a cubicle as he squatted there, he put it down the drain with the rest of the refuse.

A CLA Training camp in a wild region of HARU

The young woman took a moment of privacy for a 'female complaint'...but in fact unhitched her radio from her belt, quickly took the back off, and punched in a code from the keypad there. She gave it a reasonable amount of time to seem as though she had done something natural and normal...

"...but all have drawn a blank." finished Baron Shein before the privy council. He drew on a cigarette and put it down. "News has leaked out of the Empress' injury, so we can expect various Reich crackpots to claim doing damage to the Empress' vehicle....but no idea where She really is. I think she still must be here. I am having the whole country combed."
"What about Archduchess Aurora?" asked the Chancellor.
General Schlabel shook his heady wearily. "Nothing yet."
"This doesn't make sense." fretted Aurora von Konigsmark, the Foreign minister. "If it were CLA or someone they would have owned up."
"I insist that we tell our allies." said Valerian tautly.
"Yes, Highness, you are right. We must." said Chancellor der Waal.
Valerian rose. "Very well. I have other duties, excuse me."
Other duties. thought Valerian. God, do you not do enough to us? Now I must tell a man the world does not know is dying that his wife and daughter are missing.
The thought of the kind of enemies they had...Kalessin, Raem, Iesus Christi...made Valerian shudder, at the thought of his mother in their hands. Suddenly he realizd how much he loved her, and how nauseated he was at the thought of her doing any dying but peacefully in bed, any harm but a riding accident.
It took all that he had in him to find some way of being strong and resolute and positive in telling his father, now bedridden and wasting away, what had happened.
"Thank, you son." said Archduke Tristan in a now feeble wheeze. "No one tells me anything anymore." he began to weep.
"Father, father..." said Valerian softly. "I'm sure she'll be fine."
But where was she?

~ Secure Transmission to SATO nations ~

Recent evidence, to be forwarded to heads of intelligence and state only: pertaining to the abduction of Empress Joanna von Sachshausen.
Please respond if you have any information.

- Claudia der Waal, Chancellor
~ End Transmission ~

The Manor, northern DA:

"Abducted? You`re kidding me."
"Unfortunately not..." It wa amazing to see that Althena kept her innocent smile even in such a situation. "First of all... do we have any information abpout it?"
"Well... no, not really, just the usual suspects..."
"Perhaps we did it?"
The man in front of Althena, head of the 'Knights of Enki', uttered a sharp laugh. "Well, we may be vicious enough to do that, but no, i honestly doubt it."
"Good. Well, you know what you have to do."
"Yes, mylady." He left the room, hesitated for a moment: "Any reply?"
"Not yet... at the moment we have nothing to offer but our condolences, and transmissions, no matter how well they are encoded, only rise the risks. They will know we do anything we can."
"Good."

For a moment, Althena watched the grapes on her table...

Strange... Lavenrunzian security should be tight enough to protect her... i doubt the 'usual suspects', Iesus & co., could get THAT near... didn`t Lavenrunz have minor internal problems? Perhaps they weren`t that minor... She hesitated for another moment, then made a call.

{Secure Transmission}
x Alexander de Groot (Colonel, KG SATO)
o Return Path

With regard to the disappearance of Archduchess Aurora, please find enclosed extrapolations of her position based on weather and air defense data. Battle platforms and surveillance craft are engaging in search operations over international waters along the Archduchess' projected track.

The Palace

Thirty Camellias was worried, and bored. She couldn't understand why she wasn't allowed to be by Joanna's side. She was pacing in the gardens when the message came through to her primary mechanical component, lurking at a Lavenrunzian AFB near Hofburg.

Two plus two is four... semisentient machine and upgraded animal do the sums. Then the Empress' leopard protector is moving, fast.

The great cat's voice is surprisingly mild (probably surprising, period - she is after all a cat) when she encounters the first obstacle that actually stops her. "I am the avatar of the Empress' ship Thirty Camellias. I need to see whoever is in charge of the Empress. I need to see that person now."

Thirty Camelias is recognized...and led to a red eyed Archduke Valerian.
Who quietly tells her everything.
"Twenty minutes of a day to feel a bit free was all she asked." he says quietly. "A terrible mistake, as it turns out."

Siri blinked as she looked at the report, her face suddenly pale. "Joanna... missing?" she asked softly.

Serendis nodded. "I am afraid it is so, milady."

Siri sighed. "She's my best friend, Serendis... wherever she is, she could be in a great deal of trouble. We have to find her. Or at least help her people find her."

Serendis nods. She looks down at her datapad for a moment. "I have... forty-nine Elenpalantir reconsats that aren't doing anything at the moment. I can move the Fifteenth Fleet to Lavenrunz as well."

"Do it," Sirithil ordered with a nod. "And see if you can pull any more assets for this."

"It will be tight, what with the Mishakal matter."

"I understand. But do what you can."

"Yes, milady." Serendis gave a bit of a bow, and left the office. Siri, meanwhile, prepared a message to Lavenrunz, to tell them help was on the way.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/sirithil/sirithilnosfeanor.gifLady Sirithil nos Fëanor
Elentári of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar
"If it is to be war between us, it shall be war to the knife and the knife to the hilt."
~Foreign Minister Duke Paolio, The Outlands
We Love the Iraqi Information Minister (http://www.welovetheiraqiinformationminister.com)
Clicky-clicky!

The leopard takes care not to look at the Archduke as she growls, ears peeled back.

"The organics tell me it's a natural need, Archduke, and that the Empress would be less for not being able to realize it. But neither my machine part or my animal part recognize that need; we are overprotective and jealous. But no matter." She pads over and lowers her head in something approximating a bow.

"I intend to place myself at the disposal of the recovery effort, Archduke. And if you are leading that effort, that means you, personally. My offensive capabilities are minimal, but I am mobile and well equipped."

OOC: OK, a brief explination for those of you who don't know. My main character/leader, Witzig, the Hegemon of Terraus, is married to Joanna's elder daughter Magda.

As I rarely play here, I'll describe him as well. Witzig is about 26, just shy of six feet, of lean but fit build, and has medium length white-grey hair.

IC:

Magda unexpectedly arrived at the office of the Hegemon, and said in no uncertain terms that she wanted to speak to him.

"He's in a security meeting, ma'am." an aide informs her. "Is this an emergency?"

"I would say so." Magda says in a barely controlled voice.

"I'll tell him you're here." the aide says frowning sympathetically. A few moments later Witzig arrives, having walked quickly up from the security council room.

"Magda...?" He looks worried.

"I got a call from Val. Do you know about Mama--and Aurora?"

He leads her into his office where they can talk privately and closes the door. Sitting down so he can look straight at her he puts a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Yes. That's what the security meeting was about. We just got the news."

Magda takes a shuddery breath. "I don't undersand..how could this happen? And with Papa ill as well..it's like a nightmare."

"It is... We're not even sure what's going on." There is true regret there.

Magda looks up at him. "Darling--I should go home."

"I don't know what to do!" she looked at him frantically.

"Magda, neither do I." he takes her in his arms and tries to console her. "Besides pray they're alive and that we'll get them back."

"Then I want to go to Church to pray." she says. "I'll wait till you're done..I want you with me." she takes his hands and looks into his eyes.

"We'll go now." For a moment he breaks with her eyes to call down to the council and tell the Executor to take over the discussion. "You need me here."

Magda throws herself into his arms. "Oh,Witzig...thank you."

Witzig just smiles softly and holds her. God, you better get them home alive and whole. I don't care how, but do it.

What had happened?
Joanna von Sachshausen, Empress of Lavenrunz, woke in a large room. She was in a bed, covered by sheets and a warm quilt. There was a faint motion to the place apart from the spinning of her head. A ship. Though it was a big enough room that she could see a wardrobe across from the bed, an open door to what appeared to be a bathroom, and another open door. She looked around and the pain in her head made her wince and feel a wave of nausea.
Moving, she felt the sheets whisper against her skin. Naked.
Oh, God she thought, and for a moment lay back.
There was a packet of paracetemol and a glass of water by the bed. She took the medecine, and in a while the pain in her head went away.
She remembered only the beginning of an accident--the gravcar Siri gave her failing and crashing. Voices...but hadn't she been put on a stretcher? Where the hell was she?
She froze, realizing that there was a camera eye fixed into the wall, near the top of the ceiling.
Nothing for it.
No one had responded yet to her wakened state. She carefully got up, wrapping a sheet around herself, and inspected the rooms. They were all quite nice--but none of the furniture could be moved. No weapons unless she dismanlted something. Looking in the wardrobe...
Every single garment was a flimsy arrangement. Tank tops and camisole tops. Short slit up the side skirts. A sundress. There was a sleeveless evening dress that wasn't too bad, not the kind of thing she would chose...
And no underwear. She felt a rising outrage, fury in her. Someone, some stranger had brought her here. Offered these foreign fripperies as mockery. Seen her nudity...
Feeling disquieted, she took it and went into the bathroom. Washing herself--from her state she figured she had been unconscious at least an entire day--she put on the dress.
She walked out into the sitting room, where there was a large screen tv. All the channels were about documentaries or christian living. A chill went down her spine. But there were also Menelmacari channels. She made a wry face. Hard to block those without resorting to electronic warfare. But no actual information.
The door was capable of being bolted from the inside. It wasn't.
Taking a deep breath, she went to it and opened it.
Two guards in white dress uniforms--but certainly looking tough, well armed and capable--stood there. She noticed the well healed scars on the face of one.
"Take me to your commander." she said, looking at them gravely.
The scar faced one nodded. "Follow me, Ma'am."
She did, and finds behind her. They lead her along a smoothly paneled corridoor and then up a companionway to another. As they came up this way, seeing the very size of the halls she realized the ship must be huge, as big as an ocean liner. The next level told her that they were very near an engineering section. They passed through part of it, sailors making way for them as necessary, and then came up into a well carpeted area.
At the end of this hall were two doors, and a large chamber beyond. A smartly dressed man with a smug smile sits on a large sofa. Above and around them were galleries, and she could see a big domed skylight above, showing nothing but clouds and sky.
And as the frantic search began...
"Why have I been brough here?" Joanna demands coldly.
"Tssk, tssk. So hasty." said the man in an amused tone. "It's very rude to
skip the introduction and launch straight into business,
Joanna. I'm Etienne de Savoir, of the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs. You may recall I accepted an invitation to a
Lavenrunz celebration, only to find out afterwards it was
changed to be for SATO members only. However, in the interests of showing the
world that SATO and her enemies are quite capable of patching
up old differences, I thought I'd invite you to the opening
of the new Dominion island near Knootoss. Pleased to meet
you, by the way. Cameras just don't do you justice."
Joanna lifts an eyebrow and says, "I see. You have a rather odd way of extending invitations. Supposing I were to refuse?"
Etienne raises a finger demonstratively. "Well, that's just the point, isn't it? That
would be unacceptable! So I simply circumvented normal diplomatic routes. We're encouraged to take affirmative
action whenever possible."
He slowly - and obviously - lets his gaze
wander downwards. "That dress certainly brings out the best
in you." His voice doesn't quite hold the thickness of
lechery, though. It's more like it's a test, something to try
to goad her, than any actual lust.
Joanna cannot help but flush slightly, however, her
determination does not waver. "Shall we dispense with the
slyly clever remarks for a moment? What are your intentions
with regard to myself?"
He smiles. "Oh, for the moment entirely
honourable, sadly." This comment is addressed directly to her
chest. But then he looks up, and meets her eyes. If he
flinches at the anger in them, he recovers himself enough to
grin at the sight of her blushing. "I suppose you could say
it depends on whether you're a good girl or a bad girl, you
know?"
Joanna considers carefully. "I will be back in a
moment." she says, and goes up to see what she can see of the
view.
On the way up, she has to muster every fiber of her
being not to rage or weep. She has never been so
humiliated...and she fears that this is but a taste. But she
learned in a rare school how to survive strange
situations...she is determined first to see what the position
of the ship is.
The ship is currently far out at sea -
floating alone, it seems.
The sun is almost directly overhead, putting
it at mid-day on the equator
Other than that ... she has no way of
telling. Far from Lavenrunz already. So far...
Joanna walks down, briskly, ignoring the urge to weep
until it is well hidden.
Arriving back at the couch, she sits down again. "Let
us suppose that I am willing for now to be tranquil. What
then?"
"Well. I keep you out here, until the
Dominion island is ready. Then we throw the grand opening -
to which no SATO countries will be invited, of course. And
then we parade you around, smiling and happy to be here."
"If you're really good, we might even let
you wear clothes for the occasion."
Joanna stares at him appalled.
You see, as much as..."
Then he's cut
off by her lunging for his throat like a leopard. He grabs at her wrists just as they
close - he certainly wasn't expecting an assault. He falls
off the chaise, dragging her with him. However, his strength
is literally unnatural as he grapples with her.
Joanna smashes her head forward at his.
She cracks her forehead against his head,
but he just manages to turn his head to one side in time, and
instead of crunching his nose she bruises his cheek - or at
least, it'll be bruised after it has time to come up.
He curses under his breath, and tries to
bring her arms together - using them to keep her away from
him.
Joanna falls against him--but it is a feint; she
twists her wrists swiftly in an effort to get free, and at
the same time tries to bring her heel down on his instep.
She does so successfully, but it doesn't
snap. It should have, it really should - but it doesn't. He
grunts, and simply exerts even more pressure on her wrists.
"Bad ... girl ... " he mutters under his breath.
Joanna is horrified by his strength, but her eyes lock
with his. She shoots back, "You WILL respect me. Apologize
and I'll stop."
He laughs as he looks back at her. "Sadly
for me, and you, and many other people, the incompetence of
the other Dominion countries won't allow that. The harder you
fight the more this is going to hurt you ... " He attempts
then to push her off him, and onto the ground - a little
faster than she was expecting. Her flimsy dress now may well
be a hindrance, or it might simply be ripping.
Joanna looks back at him defiantly, although her
wrists are now in agony.
He continues exerting pressure, trying to
immobilise her and get her hands behind her back.
Joanna strains and strains...and gives, forcing him to
collapse on her so she can do the classic knee to the groin.
He does indeed collapse on her ... and that
really, really hurts. From almost being on top of her, he
rolls over onto the floor with a strangled squawk.
Joanna slams a hand into his throat before he can
recover.
He coughs, and lies sprawled out on the
ground, struggling to catch his breath.
Joanna got to her feet, backing away carefully...and
immediately noticed that the silly dress was nearly falling
apart. One strap was entirely useless without a sewing kit or
something...least of her concerns. She swiftly looked around
for a camera as she moved away from him.
There may or may not have been cameras
somewhere - it was a big area to scan. After a few minutes,
Etienne picked himself up from the floor, and swayed
unsteadily.
Joanna sat down calmly and said, "Have a seat,
Minister." she looked at him with grave blue eyes.
"You know," he manages to gasp after a
while, "I'd have beaten you if it wasn't for your breasts
bouncing around and distracting me." This was quite patently
a lie, however, proved as such by the sore and awkward way he
sat down, rubbing his cheek where she'd headbutted him.
"And I'm an Ambassador, not a Minister."
"You introduced yourself as 'Minister'" Joanna says
tartly--as though this is a remission for which she is vastly
irritated but ready to dismiss for the moment.
"As I said--I insist on being treated with a certain
degree of respect. I am the Empress of Lavenrunz--but also, I
am Joanna von Sachshausen. Don't you forget it." her eyes
hold his.
"No, I said I was of the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs. We don't crew our governmental departments entirely
with Ministers, you know."
He looks back, and doesn't break away from
her gaze - but before there was arrogance and contempt, now
there's wariness.
Joanna says, "Now. Tell me about your plan to try to
gain advantage for the Dominion by parading me in Knootoss."
He briefly considers a long laugh, but
decides it would cause too much pain in the groin, and so
just gives a short laugh instead. "No. You'll not start
leading me along that easily. Joanna. I don't think I need to
fill in the details, anyway. Secretary-General of SATO kidnapped,
returned contemptuously by Dominion country - we'll have to
return you, sadly, or it could escalate into a war - but
it'll make people think twice before calling us weak again."
"A pity. I would have honoured you at the celebration,
had the impetuous Grand Duke understood when to shut up.
Pathetic, to insist that there was no victory on our part.
Apart from that, I would have honored you as valiant foes."
the Empress says, staring at him.
He attempts a sneer but coughs as he says "Faugh. It worked out in our advantage far
better than having to control a rebel-ridden, sullen Knootoss
would have."
"The Treaty was to the advantage of both parties,
Ambassador." Joanna says. "Your forces were cunning
opponents. And I know that you must be partisan for your
side...but what wrong have I done you..." she smiles
ruefully, "Apart from very recently?
"Right and wrong? What a very innocent
viewpoint you hold. You don't need to have done anything to
be useful. After this comes public, all SATO nations will
increase personal security on key members of staff
drastically - thereby reducing resources elsewhere.
Nervousness will increase, as will fear and
uncertainty. And all because a pretty little Lavenrunzian
went out driving one day and didn't come back when planned."
Empress Joanna says, "Now, what did I tell you about
respect?" There is a message in her eyes: I WILL kill you.
He laughs. "Calm down. You kill me, you'll
be tortured for the whole world to see. Obviously you're mad
enough that that little factor won't matter, however - think
of the family, Joanna. What future will Lavenrunz have if its
postergirl perfect Empress is killed away from home?"
However, he does move to the other end of the chaise, and sort of
hunch up a bit, protecting certain vital regions.
"My son Valerian will do everything in his power to
avenge me. Including presiding over your execution." Joanna
says. "Since you insist on being flippant about your
purposes, I insist on knowing what my intinerary is for the
next few days."
"Yes, yes, I'm sure he will. I fear
Lavenrunz's military slightly less than I fear your left
knee, at this point in time. And I doubt SATO has the spine
to declare war over what would be no more than a suspicion.
Joanna takes a deep breath. "Since you have no
information for me, I will return to my room." She gets up,
careful of her dress.
"Good idea. Do run along - I'll send some
soldiers when I require you again. Next time, wear something
a little different, would you? I'd like to see you in white."
Joanna nearly falters at that, but does not, instead
briskly walks out of the room, and says to the guards, "I'm
going back to my stateroom. And I am hungry, I would like to
eat, please."
The guard nods. "Yes, ma'am." One moves to
escort her ahead, and one behind again. Unlike Etienne, they
show absolutely nothing. If anything, they look more
dangerous than him - they're obviously military, and one of
them has a latticework of scars on his cheek that implies
combat experience.
Joanna is led back to her room.
Almost as soon as she's gone, Etienne
staggers off in search of painkillers.
Joanna gets a less tattered dress, and goes for
another quick shower, so that she can cry. She does not let
herself sob, lest someone get a glimpse of her. When she
comes out she looks calm and collected and waits for her meal.
A meal is soon brought. It's a mixed grill -
they're obviously not really sure what she likes, so have
given her a bit of everything.
Joanna eats a decent balance of things, and then rests
for a while.
The camera follows her movements everywhere.
As soon as she has finished, a sailor - the one who delivered
the meal - comes in to collect the debris. He carefully
avoids her gaze.
Joanna says, "What's your name, Sailor?" in an
officer-voice, friendly enough.
"James, ma'am."
He stacks the dishes back on the tray, and
collects the medicine glass from earlier.
"Thank you, James. Carry on." she says.
He continues what he was doing. Somewhere
else in the ship, someone notes to regularly change sailors,
so Joanna doesn't manage to lead any of them into following
her sly orders.
Joanna walks over to the walls of her stateroom near
the door. She walks idly along as though in though, running a
hand along it. Plasterboard...covering the steel structure of the ship.
She sleeps. The ship motion might be quite
restful. When she wakes up, it seems a bit stormier outside.
In fact, a quick glance through the porthole reveals it's
very stormy indeed. Then she realises why she woke up - the
two soldiers from outside are standing in her room.
Joanna brushes her hair from her eyes and sits up,
frowning. "What is it?" she asks.
"You're required." the soldier says flatly.

OOC: Please bear in mind, there is no way anyone could know this is actually happening. All remains speculation...

All around Lavenrunzian waters and airspace, transport was being halted, even merchant ships and planes, and firmly turned back. For those ships and planes already out of range, Lodossian and SATO nations were requested to work with this.

The datafeeds went out fast, machine coordinated. Every single vehicle leaving Lavenrunz is targeted for further investigation. The worklist is huge - but one by one, in rapid succession, they're catalogued. Data requests go out to SATO, beginning with the EOTED, Menelmacar and Diablo nets. Elapsed time since incident, just over seven hours... too long.

Radar and satellite data is ransacked, as is underwater sensor array data. The pimary goal - achieve surveillance as soon as possible, and intercept before landing or rendezvous.

SATO member nation operatives are tasked with investigating landing flights. Strings are pulled.

And over the sea, satellite radar coverage firms up.

[OOC: Well, only a small part of that is going to have any significance - but some fun might come from the following up of false leads.]

OOC Appologies if anything I write is contrary to standard proceedings in your country, I'll edit if necessary.

IC
An unremarkable passenger flight arrives in an unremarkable city in Lavenrunz. A woman in unremarkable civilian clothing steps off the plane and heads towards the immigration desk. She changes course as she realises that although her luggage is of lesser importance than her mission, failing to pick it up would draw attention to her. She winced at the delay; the minutes ticked onward as the baggage handlers performed their usual leasurely dispensing of cases and bags.

Spotting her small sachel, she shifts her briefcase to her right hand and lifts the sachel to her shoulder. Blending in completed, she heads towards the immigration desk trying hard not to rush her steps. As she reaches the correct desk, she passes over her ordinary-seeming passport.

The clerk's eyes widening at the site of 'Tarrican Diplomatic Corps' on the top of her passport signals that it is time to move onward. She leans forward and whispers to him... "Consider me a courier... I need to speak to someone in authority and I'd prefer it to be discreet."

OOC: She'd probably notice security being really tight, and that there are actual soldiers on duty here and there, well armed.
IC:
The clerk bows politely and with discretion has the diplomat led to speak with the airport's office from the Ministry of Information. A fair haired, thickset man is sitting behind a desk wearing a dark uniform tunic. His name is Major Hochswender.
"What can I do for your Honour today?" he asks, pressing a button. There is a faint button as the electronic security waves go up.

OOC: .... interesting. Please do know OOCly that I AM keeping a VERY close eye on that dominion island... if I could fit into this somehow I would like to hear ideas. Maybe on IRC.

For now some wrong leads...

Knootcap, temporary AIVD Headquarters

The temporary office contruction for the General Intelligence and Security Service had cardboard walls and was lit by cheap UV-lighting. The old headquarters with the thick doors and walls had been hit by a Dyelli Beybi shell and still was under repair. This was one of the jobs exclusively handled by Knootians: the Celdonians aiding in the rebuilding would not get their hands on this job.

The head of the AIVD pulled down the phone, having just spoken with Prime Minister Van der Laan. "Great. Someone is missing, and probably kidnapped by an enemy of SATO. That leaves about... a zillion possibilities." He peered over the sketchy intelligence they had so far gotten. "And it's not as if I have nothing to do here. Eru knows how many spies there are in Knootoss right now. And half by people are out there watching that wretched Island being built off the coast."

For his own machochistic amusement more then actual intelligence, the director had put three different television screens in his office secretly monitoring the island being built. Not that there was much to be seen, the Vortex corporation had made sure of that.

The director sighed and opened a comm to one of his subordinates: "Irian, I want to do a level 2 sensor sweep across the world. Details forthcoming..."

High seas near Arda
The Knootian submarine the Zeeleeuw plowed through the deep waters surrounding the dark continent where the dark lord ruled. Captain Geraldus paced over the small bridge the ship possesed checking out the various workstations. "Position relative to the convoy?", he asked his nav officer. "Still well within parameters. We should be reaching the Melkorian port in 26 hours. Convoy delivers the supplies and we are on our way."

A bleeb
"Sir, inoming communication from headquarters. It is priority 2. And your eyes only Sir."

The captain snatched the printout from the communications officers hand: "hmm.... confirmation okay... the Empress?! No leads. To scan Arda? They must be really desperate if they resort to farfetched means like this."

With a confident voice he snapped out orders. "All hands, we are standing down grey mode. Prepare to surface."

The grey long tube changed course slightly so it would not exactly match the convoy anymore and with a groaning strain began to rise. Sensors began sending active sonar waves through the cold deep water. If the Dark Lord was somehow behind this they would know...

{IDFI Tightbeam Transmission #4283}

{To: General Hans Schlabel, Minister for War, Lavenrunz}
{From: IDFI Commisioner K'rel, EOTED}
{Timestamp: ERROR, TIMESTAMP MISSING}
{Encryption: Standard SATO encryption, EOTED--->Lavenrunz}

{Transmission Follows}

General H. Schlabel,

The Empire would be more than willing to participate in a search, and, of course, any potential rescue operation should one become necessary. I will make the necessary arrangements to bring orbital assets into the search - namely the MISAT network. However, it will be something like searching for a needle in a haystack - during a tornado. The odds are relativley low, in fact, of a positive result; however... the odds could be increased dramatically in our favour were we to be provided with the young lady's bio-electric signature. In fact, we ought to be able to pinpoint her location within several seconds.

We look forward to reporting the young lady in question safe and well.

With regards,

IDFI Commisioner K'rel

{Transmission Terminates Here}

* * *

K'rel scowled. Politics. He hated politics. In fact, he didn't just hate politics - he loathed politics. And this, as far as he was concerned, was politics. Why the hell should he have his people go running around searching for some foreigners little girl? Pfah! Ridiculous. He would have to pull people off of surveillance ops - although not the surveillance op - and he wasn't best pleased.

Rising, and keeping his face utterly neutral despite his vast irritation, he marched out of his office and barked, "Divisional heads here. Now."

Quickly, the small space in front of the Commissioner's office fills with people. "K. So. Here's the deal... Lavenrunz has lost a lamb. And we have to go be the sheepdog and find said lamb. You'll find briefings on your systems in just a moment; but suffice to say, I want this done smart, speedily, and smoothly. NIUOA has been looking for a chance to bite us in the arse, and if we drop the ball on this one, it'll be our heads on the cutting board. So. Find her. Now. - Go."

The divisional heads disperse, muttering under their breath. All of them, needless to say, are human. Except, of course, the Commissioner. Who is undoubtably Nenyan - most of the high-ranking intelligence officials in the Empire are, after all.

* * *

The light blinked. It was faintly annoying, but somewhat therapeutic, in its own little way. Tsria pecked a finger at the light, and it flashed off. Instead of a flashing light, however, she was hit with a request from... The Territory intelligence community.

Huh.

That didn't happen everyday.

In fact... she wasn't even sure what protocol was on that.

She pecked another button. "Hey, Pitrae? Yeah. - Yeah, I got a request here on my desk for sat images and the like - you know, the usual surveillance - but it's a strange request, Pitrae. First... it's from The Territory. When did they ever ask us for anything? - Yeah, so was I. - Second... it's a request for sat images of Lavenrunz. What's the protocol? - No, I know we don't admit that, Pitrae. Nope. Not politically viable. - Right. Understood."

She pecked the button again, and fired off a "No surveillance available" response to The Territory.

After all... EOTED doesn't spy on its allies.

Oh, no. Not ever...

*can see the posts in the replies but not on the forum... strange*

Amerigo is a land of tolerance

EDIT: it worked!

Narrowcast to Lavenrunz; highest-security transmission

Ravenspire intelligence and air force assets are searching. Please keep us apprised of any new information.

Arik Peridon
Minister of Defense

Hofburg, Lavenrunz

"Aurora..." Setsuna Arisugawa, Ravenspiric Ambassador to Lavenrunz, crumpled the paper in her hand before tossing it into the fire. "Robert," she said crisply.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Contact Sakura... or Hotaru, if Sakura's out again. I want a contingent of CI/CT agents here within the hour. The Lightbringers or the Munin."

The human aide raised an eyebrow as Setsuna named two of the elite teams of Ravenspire CI/CT, but he knew better than to question the foxgirl ambassador. He departed to place a call.

When he had left the room, Setsuna called in another member of the staff. "Contact Ben Hanlon of CreepyTeef. Don't reveal specifics. Also, make certain Valerian and his staff receive a message of support and cooperation. Then get in touch with Siri and Witzig to coordinate search efforts, and ask a few of the CI/CT AIs to investigate and track all vehicle departures from Lavenrunz since the time of the incident."

"My govenrment has come into posession of information... that we really shouldn't have. You see it relates to an ally of ours who... is sufficiently powerfull that we wish to give them no reason to consider us anything but allies."

She is clearly nervous about the implications of the information.
"Nonetheless we think it is of importance that this information be recieved by the authorities here... and that we are at our discreetest delivering it."

His Majesty, Emperor Gustav Alderman I, is saddened to hear of this incident. We wish to offer a hand to assist Lavenrunz in finding its Empress. Our honour demands that be done to such staunch allies in the Knootoss conflict. We are willing to dispatch members of our External State Security Ministry, the Emergency Response Team of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and members of His Majesty's Special Liaison Service.

Sincerely,
Count Viktor Leopold
First Minister for His Majesty's Foreign Affairs

"My govenrment has come into posession of information... that we really shouldn't have. You see it relates to an ally of ours who... is sufficiently powerfull that we wish to give them no reason to consider us anything but allies."

She is clearly nervous about the implications of the information.
"Nonetheless we think it is of importance that this information be recieved by the authorities here... and that we are at our discreetest delivering it."

The Major turns pale. He nods and says, "Very well...understand, we have to be very careful about this...would you object to being scanned and checked, as we are going through a time of trouble at high levels? I assure you it would be very discreet." his face is deadly serious.


His Majesty, Emperor Gustav Alderman I, is saddened to hear of this incident. We wish to offer a hand to assist Lavenrunz in finding its Empress. Our honour demands that be done to such staunch allies in the Knootoss conflict. We are willing to dispatch members of our External State Security Ministry, the Emergency Response Team of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and members of His Majesty's Special Liaison Service.

Sincerely,
Count Viktor Leopold
First Minister for His Majesty's Foreign Affairs

To his Excellency Count Leopold

On behalf of the Heir and all in government I am very grateful to have received your letter. A large area of territory needs to be covered, and I hope that someone will find some news soon.
It is good to know we have such staunch allies. Hopefully we might formalize such an alliance at some date.

respectfully
Aurora von Konigsmark, Foreign Minister

A faint grimace crosses her face as she considers the possible implications of scans and checks, but knows that some things are more important than dignity, even if it comes to that.
"That would be acceptable, yes. I suspect that my information and your troubles may be linked."

OOC:
#tag#

Impetuous? Me? NEVER! :roll:

Knoot - you might be keeping a close eye on the island, it is normal after all, but don't forget that we are also screening any observations with WV :wink:

A faint grimace crosses her face as she considers the possible implications of scans and checks, but knows that some things are more important than dignity, even if it comes to that.
"That would be acceptable, yes. I suspect that my information and your troubles may be linked."

Though apologetic, the Lavenrunzians are thorough and careful, and included is a search of her belongings.
But the end result is that she is driven to the Lavenrunzian Chancery, there meeting with a fair woman in her thirties who says, "I am Claudia der Waal, the Lavenrunzian Chancellor. What did you have to tell us?"

Althena sat in front of the altar, praying. Although most of DA was awowedly atheist, she was still believing in god, and a devout catholic.

The news she had got weren`t overly useful... it seemed quite certain that the opposition in Lavenrunz hadn`t anything to do with it...

So, they had to go back to the 'usual suspects'.

Iesus Christi was of course a good shot... unfortunately, it wasn`t easy to contact their agent there. And he wasn`t exactly leading the ministry of social order, either.

Arda... Melkor Unchained... No, they were busy. And besides, their ability to stage such an operation was... questionable. Their methods were not as subtle as this was.

Althena though further. CACE... Lavenrunz was actually quite accepted in CACE. Yes, they would probably stage such an operation, but not against the Empress. More against herselve. She smiled. Yes, that would be amusing.

Then, the dominion... but here, the same rule applied: Their methods weren`t that subtle... It seemed unlikely they would stage such an operation. They would rather nuke SATO than abducting the Empress.

On the other hand...

That deal with Taraskova during the Knootian conflict... and general the Taraskovian and Nod operations...

They WERE subtle...

Perhaps this possibility wasn`t that impossible after all...

It didn´t take her long to ask for the neccessary operations. Esspecially Taraskova had to be checked. Unlike Nod, there was an actual chance to get in...

Finally, she was satisfied.

Now, to finish the plans for the infiltration of WhisperingVoices.

The woman, identified in her documentation as Jasmine Urqhart, is clean, fit and in good health. Her belonging are unremarkable, including toiletries and clothes for a few days stay and the contact details of a B&B in the city.
Her briefcase has number of paper documents as well as blank stationry... some of the documents are in code.

"I appologise for being cryptic to your people earlier, Chancellor, but as I said... our government doesn't really want to be known for passing on this information."

Taking a deep breath, she continues...
"One of our naval vessels on her shakedown cruise pulled a sailor from the water... the man had been swept overboard in a recent storm that our vessel had been using for cover while trailing the Zo... I mean, whilst conducting trials. Erm. The sailor revealed shortly prior to the storm he had witnessed a woman being transferred from a submarine under heavy guard. She was apparently unconcious, but with medical supervision. From her description and the speach of the soldiers it was... um... Empress Joanna of Lavenrunz."

She pauses... largely for effect. "The ship was the Zophael. Her keel was laid by Reploid Publications as a luxury yacht, but modified at request of the buyer to incorporate armour and protective glass. She was commisioned less than a year ago... in the Whispering Voices Navy. The personal barcoding of the sailor confirms 'Voices as his country of origin."

OOC The obtaining of this information has been RPed with Whispering Voices: this is 100% legit.

An Windjammer sonic jet leaves the Valinon treaty port of New Bergia, and heads for Lavenrunz. On board are 3 squads of the ERTs, 36 Nightwatch personnel, 12 Scorpion Clan operatives, Bayushi Shoju last of the Diamyos of the Dominion, and finally a pair from His Majesty's Special Liaison Service.
Bayushi looks at the Liaison agents, "Remind me again why you are here?"
"His Majesty wishes a more personal hand in this matter. And we are here to see that proper restraint is used during this operation," says the taller of the two, clothed in the typical charcoal grey and black-trimmed uniform of the Liaison.
"Of course," Bayushi nods.
"You will still have basic command authority, Special Assistnat Director Bayushi."
"Indeed."
One of Bayushi's men approaches, "My Lord, we will arrive in Lavenrunz in an hour and a half. There is a storm over our intended route and we will have to ascend higher than previously expected to avoid major turbelence."
"Continue on course."
"Yes, My Lord."

The woman, identified in her documentation as Jasmine Urqhart, is clean, fit and in good health. Her belonging are unremarkable, including toiletries and clothes for a few days stay and the contact details of a B&B in the city.
Her briefcase has number of paper documents as well as blank stationry... some of the documents are in code.

"I appologise for being cryptic to your people earlier, Chancellor, but as I said... our government doesn't really want to be known for passing on this information."

Taking a deep breath, she continues...
"One of our naval vessels on her shakedown cruise pulled a sailor from the water... the man had been swept overboard in a recent storm that our vessel had been using for cover while trailing the Zo... I mean, whilst conducting trials. Erm. The sailor revealed shortly prior to the storm he had witnessed a woman being transferred from a submarine under heavy guard. She was apparently unconcious, but with medical supervision. From her description and the speach of the soldiers it was... um... Empress Joanna of Lavenrunz."

She pauses... largely for effect. "The ship was the Zophael. Her keel was laid by Reploid Publications as a luxury yacht, but modified at request of the buyer to incorporate armour and protective glass. She was commisioned less than a year ago... in the Whispering Voices Navy. The personal barcoding of the sailor confirms 'Voices as his country of origin."

OOC The obtaining of this information has been RPed with Whispering Voices: this is 100% legit.

Chancellor der Waal leans back in her chair, eyes wide, and says, "I see. I have two questions.
The first however, is: what is her bearing? And the second: why are you doing this?"

Elsewhere...

Valerian gave the following orders to General Schlabel.
One: replenishment ships were to immediately visit the Atlantic Fleet at all moorings and bearings.
Two: Category I reserves were to ready depots.
Three: all regular forces save for those guarding areas of importance or being rested and refitted to begin full mobilization exercises. Including the Imperial Rocket Corps.

Above, aircraft and battle platforms scour the surface. Microdrone swarms are dumped out, set to flock above every ship in the area. Below, subs do similar work, dronesubs actively pinging while their manned counterparts lurk and stalk.







The thing is, as far as KG SATO/KG Lavenrunz are concerned this is only one level above normal paranoia. Maybe one and a half. Some things are definitely abnormal though.



SS Haarlem, of Knootian registry



Sneak in on battle platform. Check.



Make minisub insertion. Check.



Climb up hull, silent as cancer. Check.



Annelie Silberschatz would by and large be a happy camper, ecept this was her fourth covert insertion in three hours. Glued to the Haarlem's hull, her team let water trickle off greasy gelsuits set for slipperiness and full IR suppresion - a last check for observers, cameras, electronics. Go code from passing warsat.



Then they're on board, active camouflage deployed, moving like wraiths, sublethal needler barrels at the ready. They avoid contact. Really only looking for one thing, or rather smelling; the scent of Joanna von Sachshausen, downloaded from sensory feeds.



Hofburg



The "organic component" of Thirty Camellias paced. Fretted. Waiting for news is hard for an animal. If some psychological program allowed her to do that to provoke the Archduke to pet her and so derive some solace by caring for another, the machine component wasn't telling.



As for the machine component, the Lavenrunz officer in charge had been hailed by a team of Commandos volunteered for a rescue mission, putting themselves at Lavenrunz' disposal.

SS Haarlem, of Knootian registry



Sneak in on battle platform. Check.



Make minisub insertion. Check.



Climb up hull, silent as cancer. Check.



Annelie Silberschatz would by and large be a happy camper, ecept this was her fourth covert insertion in three hours. Glued to the Haarlem's hull, her team let water trickle off greasy gelsuits set for slipperiness and full IR suppresion - a last check for observers, cameras, electronics. Go code from passing warsat.



Then they're on board, active camouflage deployed, moving like wraiths, sublethal needler barrels at the ready. They avoid contact. Really only looking for one thing, or rather smelling; the scent of Joanna von Sachshausen, downloaded from sensory feeds.


SS Haarlem, Knootian freighter
The Haarlem was heading to a small port in Lavenrunz, on a shady business.

Captain Laatmaar sat comfortably in his chair, with his boots on the computer that had to pose for a rudder. Having little to do on the fully automated ship, he was looking over the cargo manifest again: "Hmm... old cheese, wine, ah and my "private stash" of course. The captain took a sip from his beer, everything was fine. The captain had made this run many times. [i]"and fortunately I know exactly how to avoid those messy Lavenrunzian procedures.", he added in his thoughts.

Below deck of the Haarlem
The shadowy figures picked up a strange smell. First they just smelled strong-reeking old Dutch cheese, but there was something else behind the cheese in some small containers that had been put away carefully. On one of these containers the other crewmember of the Haarlem sat quietly. In his hand was some sort of magazine, and he had his pants half down...

...



Brief clicks of communication... a substantial stash of heroin, a contact report of a crewman masturbating. Annelie calmly suppressed her reaction to the crewman's pheromone signature and moved on. Moved on with some care actually - masturbation ranked almost as high as men having loud sex when it came to getting some square-jawed defender of justice to abort a search and look the other way.



Annelie's chin was rather pointy, and she didn't give a rat's backside about justice.



Nineteen minutes and thirty-two seconds after latching on to the Haarlem's hull, the last Commando slipped below the surface again. At thirty feet, they let their suits dump heat. Then they set off for the next intercept.

((OOC: Oh my... I sell the guy a ship and he does this! *tags for future reference* Mr. Grey is gonna be ticked when/if he learns of this! ... So'll Queenie, for that matter.))

Chancellor der Waal leans back in her chair, eyes wide, and says, "I see. I have two questions.
The first however, is: what is her bearing? And the second: why are you doing this?"

"The former is quite simple, though our information might be lagging behind. The TNS Samael... er, our Beureau of Ships was unaware of 'Voices naming conventions when they commisioned the Cherubim-class escorts, hence the unfortunate overlap of theme. Anyway the Samael had to pull back in order to transmit without risking detection and was unable to re-establish contact due to the storm. We suspect that they were laying a false trail to deflect suspicion or evade detection, because their original bearing would take them straight to Knootoss... and that doesn't make sense."

"The latter, well... I'm not fully briefed on the matter, but I can give some reasons. First off we feel that kidnappings of heads of state present a bad precident. After all if 'Voices pulls it off again then other people are going to start trying... at the selfish level, that could include people who don't like us, on the general level, it'll just cause wars and tensions. And we feel that wars are a bad thing. Which brings me back to the point about us being allies with 'Voices... we want to avoid getting dragged into another war due to their agressive tendencies and gunboat diplomacy. The Office Diplomus is still working overtime to keep the British Imperialism situation from boiling over. And something tells me that the ambition of the Emperor is rising beyond minor concerns like Roania. SATO is no mere minor concern... and we certainly don't want to get dragged into a war with you."

"This is a powder-keg, Chancellor, and Whispering Voices has lit the fuze. We can't nip that fuze in the bud... but you can if you get there first. We don't want that keg to explode, Chancellor, we really don't."

"Back to Knootoss...well, Ms. Urqart, I am very gladdened by your news, but there are a number of other details that must be asked.
I hope you can bear with me? In the meantime a little refreshment, perhaps."
Claudia is frantic to get on with things, but her experience tells her not to panic and take things carefully. She patiently asks for details about the ship and it's command detail and defensive and offensive arrangements. And was there any idea of where the Empress was kept on the ship?
A little later, a pleasant arrangement of tea and small pastries and pates are brought in.
"I hope you also understand that you will have to remain here, in isolation though great comfort until..things are more orderly." the Chancellor adds.
She rises as the steward comes in with the refreshements--(though Jasmine notices that said steward looks awfully hard handed and tough to be a mere steward) and hands a small disc to a man in a sky blue uniform with an eyepatch who has walked up to the door. A swift whispered exchange in Lavenrunzian takes place, and then he leaves.

General Hans Schlabel hurries down the hall and to an elevator requiring a code to use. From there, he goes through a carefully guarded tunnel with more than one security check to the War Room.
He looked animated for the first time in two days.
Admiral Engelhardt drew in a deep breath. Field Marshal von Thessmar looked up alertly from a discussion with some senior aides.
"We've had a stroke of luck." said General Schlabel. "Or providence--really, it's too lucky not to be. We have work to do, friends."

~ Secure SATO Band: To Fleet Command, GMC Military Arms ~
Requesting in current emergency that you detach a sub carrier to rendevous with Imperial submarine Atlach, at given position in the North Atlantic.
~ End Transmission ~

Thirty Camelias found herself approached by an agitated Archduke Valerian, who asked her to immediately prepare to be taken by a B-2 Bomber (Terrausian) and flown to a location he whispered into her furry ear. He also whispered, "You are integral to this. Save my mother."

<Secure SATO Band: To Fleet Command, Lavenrunz>

Vessel is underway. Will rendezvous at give coordinates in two hours.

<End Transmission>

Thirty Camelias found herself approached by an agitated Archduke Valerian, who asked her to immediately prepare to be taken by a B-2 Bomber (Terrausian) and flown to a location he whispered into her furry ear. He also whispered, "You are integral to this. Save my mother."



"I go." The leopard pads out with unnerving speed, even for a cat. She heads off for the airbase, preceded by messages paving the way.

Note: this post is unknown of except to The Territory and GMC Military Arms.
The War Council
This is a room that is surrounded by electronic and phyiscal protection of the highest quality. Even the air vented in is from spacecraft pressurized air; there are no hidden cracks, no possibility of listening devices.
Very loyal and carefully screened persons sweep it at random times for devices; those going in are swept before they go in, and on slightest suspicion put in a special room and stripped naked for a search and x ray.
At each seat was a small device like a slim notebook computer, built into a table that sat on a heavy rubber mat now. The table and mat were modern elements of this hidden room, made of thick and ancient stone.
This was an old room, stamped in Von Sachshausen history.
Here, rulers and their councils had planned wars to be fought with arquebus and pike, musket and bayonet, gatling guns and automatic rifles--and now with satellites, submarines,
and VTOLs and computers. But one thing had not changed: those in the room stood and bowed as the ranking present person of the Blood came into the room.
Present are:
Chancellor Claudia der Waal.
General Hans Schlabel (Minister for War; former Chief of Staff of the Air Force)
Aurora von Konigsmark (Foreign Minister)
Baron von Shein (Minister of Information--the Chief of Lavenrunzian Intelligence)
Field Marshal the Markgraf von Thessmar (Chief of the Imperial General Staff)
Admiral Carl Engelhardt (Chief of Staff of the Navy)
General von Schilling (Chief of Staff of the Air Force)
Lieutenant-General Rupprecht Franze (Commander in Chief of the Imperial Rocket Corps)
Archduke Valerian takes his seat.
"Please be seated." he says. He waited for them to do so, and then said, "General, I believe you have formulated a plan?"
"Yes, Highness, I have. But the plan is only partially mine, principally it is that of Admiral Engelhardt and others on his staff. Admiral?"
The Admiral stands and goes to a big screen on a stand.
"This is the basic configuration of a ship called the Zophael. She was commission by Whispering Voices from Reploid Reproductions.
http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=43697&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0&sid=44fa2006bf71ef3a60dae400d17be0e7
However, she has been refitted for the Whispering Voices' navy. Intelligence we have recently received tells us that the Empress was transferred to this ship
from a submarine approximately two days ago.
A KM905 battlesat managed to pick it up...and now we know its bearing. It is almost certainly heading for Knootoss, for Dominion Island.
However, it is incredibly fast, even with its modifications and rough seas. And rough seas create their own problems.
Fortunately, GMC is lending us a submarine capable of maintaining pace. It is going to be resupplied. Along with those supplies will be number 10 Seelow Commando Group, and Thirty Camelias.
Thirty Camelias will be able to track the Empress, but there will also be five SFAT commandos from GMC who are psychics, apparently, and will be able to assist with that. Three teams. One will hold the escape route, one will shut down the ship's reactor to prevent effective pursuit, then of course a last one will find the Empress and retrieve her.
The submarine will wait a reasonable distance off for retrieval. This is actually a sub carrier, and it will be carrying three fast attack boats that will make the actual approach.
Simultaneous with the approach of the small boats will be an electronic warfare attack by satellite, sending jamming transmissions directed at the ship.
Are there any questions?"
"Who is leading this assault?"
"Lieutenant-Commander Rohl, of the Seelow Commandos. A highly trained officer."

Joanna recognizes one of them. The scarfaced one.
She hesistates a moment,and out of a simple need for human contact says, “What is your name, soldier?”
He does not reply. His manner is perfectly disciplined, and she suspects that he is not permitted to converse.
Her heart sinks. Somehow this is a bad omen. Nevertheless, as cheerfully as she can, she says, “I will not be a moment,” and goes to the washroom to clean herself a bit and comb her hair. Then, with a nod to them, she is led to wherever she has to go.
A curious hollow feeling of dread is growing in her. Surely the man won’t just let her attack go..but what else could she do? In retrospect, she almost wishes she had played demure till later, but his contempt made that impossible. No. She simply could not submit like that.
She is lead high up - the ship is very big, it seems. They pass a swimming pool, and some luxurious staterooms ... and then on the floor just below the top deck she hears a sound she knows well. Weapon systems, the endless hydraulic hiss of pressure checks.
She is lead into a stateroom. Etienne - looking a lot better - is sitting comfortably in a chair. The only chair. There's a desk behind him, but it doesn't have anything on it.
He healed fast, she thought. Damned augmented man…
The soldiers open the door for her to step through.
Joanna walks in. This is harder than anything she has done in a while, to walk up to that desk. But there is nothing else to do. She does it with grace and dignity as though it is what she prefers, and then walks around the desk, as though in thought. "Well, Ambassador...how are you
this day?"
He watches her warily. "That's close enough, thanks, Joanna.
Joanna sits on the desk. "You did not answer my question." she says. She gives him suddenly the full effect of her dazzling smile. "How are you?"
He smiles back. "Oh, a lot better, thanks. You?"
"I've slept, eaten and feel generally refreshed, thank you." Joanna says. "You requested an audience with me?"
He laughs. "No, I had guards bring you here. Nice try, sweetheart."
With difficulty, she keeps from flushing in anger. Joanna says, "You think you did." she does not turn a hair. "When you meet with a monarrch, it is an audience. Which I grant you." her smile is utterly confident.
As though she had just been prattling nonsense, Etienne smiles and says, "Now. In three days time we're conducting the grand opening of the island. It'll be broadcast live, but of course you'll act as a hostage in case any bright spark SATO nations think they have decent enough specops to try to rescue you. Oh, and by the way, Joanna, you're whatever I make of you. Remember that. And remember it well. You may have bested me in one fight, but that's no indication of the future. And I can do whatever I want to you. You think I was making idle threats when I said I could have you at the ceremony stark naked? I assure you, they were not. I can, and I will, if you keep up this arrogant behaviour. And yes, yes, I'm sure Lavenrunz would avenge you." He yawns. "But if you're going to make your pride worth the lives of hundreds of thousands, potentially millions or even billions of people, then I think you need to reconsider your attitude." He then gives her a very winning smile.He looks quite young when smiling. But also quite creepy.
"Now, Jo, are we going to do what we're told like a good girl or are we going to force daddy to get nasty?"
Joanna gives him a look of hatred. Utter cold rage is in her eyes. In a voice like the crack of a whip, she snaps, "You will address me with respect, or I will kill you."
"No, no. Really you won't. My guards will come in, and they'll stop you. It takes more than a couple of kicks. Look at it this way, Jo. Currently you're appearing in front of the world in a microskirt and a halter top, in f***-me shoes. Another threat out of you, and you'll be appearing in a french maid's outfit. And if you lay a finger on me, I'll have you splayed out on a board so the world can be your gynaecologist. Am I getting through to you here? Are you going to shut up, or am I going to have to get more inventive?"
The words struck her like blows. To a monarch of Lavenrunz, it was so incredible that it was like hearing screamed obscenities in a Church. She was momentarily stunned. "It will be a farce.” She manged to say.” Your people are being foolish--this will rob the peace treaty of all dignity, create further enmity."
"Then do as your told, and stay quiet."
Joanna suddenly trembles and then manages to stop it. But her fear is almost overpowering her.
"What do you want of me right now?"
He beams a smile at her. "Now. I'll be generous, and say let your last comment slide. As I was saying, we're having the grand opening in three days. All you need to do is read out a speech we'll write for you - about peace, friendship, and so on. Then you smile, look pretty, and play the good girl til the ceremonies are over."
"And then?" Joanna asks softly.
"Then, we'll see. You might become an honoured and permanent guest, or, depending on how the other SATO countries react, we might be able to simply send you back to Lavenrunz."
"It all depends on how much you can convince me you're happy to co-operate."
"Very well. I read the speech." Joanna says. "What kind of 'honour' will I be given?"
"Oh, I don't know. We'll applaud your willingness to come here, I imagine. That sort of thing. Perhaps some flowery compliments about your beauty, your fine figure, your leadership skills and love of peace. Maybe even the trust you've placed in us, coming with out guards or an entourage.” He says with a suave chuckle. She shudders imperceptibly.
Throughout this, Joanna is forcing herself to calm down, to think. Something is wrong, something he’s leaving out. Drawing herself up with regal dignity, she says coldly, "I have heard a lot of smart talk from you. I have not seen anything to back it up. I will NOT cooperate."
"The first rule of international relationships, Joanna, is never make a threat you can't or won't back up."
He stands up, and then lunges for her. The silly dress restricts her attempt to dodge, and as she finds herself alarmingly pitched backward he carries through on the lunge and grabs her by the throat. Joanna fights furiously, her rage emerging, aiming jabs at his throat, under his sternum, but this time he is more ready, and as he has her pinned, and as the skirt holds her legs too tight, she finds herself choking for breath. His strength is impossible; she finds herself blacking out but manages to get several good blows in before blacking out.
Vision returning, she is suddenly shocked into wakeness by freezing cold water. She looks up in shock and raises her hands, confused but hoping to defend herself. However, there is a wrenching of her body and a tearing sound. She sits up, aghast to see that he has ripped the dress right off her.
In one hand he is holding a water jug—obviously ready to use it as a weapon, and looking at her warily.
Joanna sits up, breathing heavily, and puts her hands up to cover herself.
He smirks at her. "You see? I'm willing to do what it takes." He's standing still, and quite straight. This may or may not be related to the fact her blow to his solar plexus has caused immense pain and the painkillers haven't yet kicked in.
"Don't bother covering yourself, dear.” He adds. “I've seen it all before and - quite frankly - was enjoying the view. Now, are you going to co-operate?"
Joanna says quietly, "What if I don't? You'll parade me bruised and naked? SATO will destroy you."
"No, SATO will try to destroy us, and get embroiled in a brutal and bloody war. My region's armies dwarf those of SATO - at least if you believe those UN pollsters. Look at the damage Whispering Voices caused to SATO interests in Knootoss alone - I promise you, we may not have the numbers, or as many lovely little lasers, but we'd be the deadliest opponent you'd ever face. The Reich is tired, cowardly, and rests on its laurels. We're none of those things. And we'd certainly hold you up long enough for other nations to get a piece of you. No, Jo. Military threats won't wash, and you know its true. Besides, it's easy enough to leave no bruise. Bar of soap in a sock, the wife beater's favourite."
His voice becomes harsh. "And if it comes to it, we can always broadcast 'anonymously' through a third party. Or better yet, sell you to the Reich. I'm sure Matthew Iesus would sell an army to get ten minutes alone with you in a room. Let alone Bridgette. Think of it as a cost-benefit analysis. Working with me gets you some loss of personal dignity, a little humiliated. Against me means international shame,humiliation, and bloodshed. You've seen how much Siri gets it in the neck for being a strong, independent female. Never has the word 'slut' been so frequently applied. Think how much worse it will be for you, without gravships and with video evidence. Hell, enough drugs and we can film you rutting with whatever the hell we please - animal, vegetable, or mineral. SATO would be too ashamed to go to war."
My own resources will not work, She thinks desperately, forcing herself sternly to maintain what little dignity she has. God in Heaven--send me a rescue. To her horror…she realizes this may be her only hope. To sacrifice a little for the long run.
“I will work with you.” She says quietly.
He cracks a smile. "Good girl, much better. Now - as a punishment you'll have no clothes for the next day. So I'd advise remaining in your room. I'll have whatever garments I see fit delivered to you after the punishment time is done."
Joanna looks at him with the grave eyes of a statue. Well, that is unpleasant…but it could be worse. "And now?"
In jovial tones, he says, "Now, my little bundle of love and joy, you get to waltz around stark naked and set the pulses of the lucky sailors a-racing. It'll do you good."
It’s worse, thinks Joanna numbly.
"If you mean "What do we do now",” he goes on, “Well, let's have a little chat, shall we? I've always wanted to learn more about Lavenrunz. You're really quite famous."
"I or my country?" Joanna feels sick at the thought of the sailors, hoping he is only tormenting her.
"Oh, you I suppose. You're here, and naked, and it looks like that ice was really cold - so you're at the top of my thoughts, you could say."
Joanna flushes. She makes a brushing motion, which is really her instinct to cover her bare breasts. "I was not meant to be Heir. I was born second child to Emperor Frederick,my Father of famous memory..."
“I see. And who was the intended heir to the throne?"
Joanna half smiles. "My brother Frederick. The darling of the nation. He died in a skiing accident of all things. And I became Heir then."
"Ah. Most fortunate - or unfortunate, I guess, depending on how your ruling of Lavenrunz is viewed. Miss him?" Joanna almost stares at him in disbelief—at how casual he is sounding. And the thought comes of attacking him—but she knows that there is the whole rest of the ship to deal with.
"I do." Joanna crosses herself. "He would have made a fine Emperor."
"Now, now!” he exclaims—and though jocular he looks at her warily. “Hands on knees, please. I don't particularly like you have free arms - or knees - but since you do have I'd rather we kept all fast-moving parts of your anatomy distinctly still."
Joanna complies.
His frank eyes run over her, but more in the way someone would look at a veal calf - it's an almost oily feeling, very unpleasant, especially when they linger - piercing and blue - on her groin and breasts.
"So, how's the home life?” his nauseatingly pleasant voice continues. Your children--Valerian, for instance? Any chance of marital reunion there you think?"
"Valerian will marry soon." Joanna suddenly has tears running down her face. "And..." The thought of her family is somehow unstringing her. She is nowhere near them, unable to help them or protect them.
She lifts her head and looks him straight in the eye.
"My daughter Magda is very well too. Her husband the Hegemon of Terraus is also well. And…”
“Yes?” he prompts.
"My husband Tristan is dying." she says coldly.
"Ah. I'm sorry to hear that." He does, in fact, sound sorry - not bursting-into-tears sorry, but regretful. "What from?" As Etienne looks her up and down, he moves back to his chair - not within easy kicking distance of her, certainly - and crosses his legs. Appreciation and admiration show in his eyes; he hadn't really realised that she was quite so good looking.
"Cancer." Joanna says curtly. "It appears spontaneously in different parts...it's worn him out."
"Well. This may sound an odd offer, but hand him over to us and we could - depending on onset time - save him. Of course, that would be a bit of a gamble for you, and not immediately practicable."
Joanna gives him a look. You’ve got to be kidding, you creep.
"I'm not lying. We're masters of biogenetics."
Joanna says, "I think that he would sooner die."
He shrugs. "Certainly, although one could argue that refusing a cure would be tantamount to suicide. And suicide's so very bad. But still, let's not talk about such an obviously distressing subject."
"Now, stand up on the desk."
Joanna looks aghast, but does, attempting to do this with as much grace as she can.
"Turn round. Face the wall, in that corner."
Humiliation crawls over her like insects, but Joanna turns to face the wall.
She quickly brushes her tears away.
She hears the door open. A guard comes in, and there's a rustle of paper. Then the sound of steps leaving.
Then the occasional sound of paper turning - almost like Etienne is reading a report, or something. Something he considers more important than her.
Standing and waiting…she tries not to think of being forced to stand there like that. She tries to pray. Calmly, Joanna. Breathe deeply. Just like an inspection parade in the corps...fret not thyself because of evildoers. Fret not...God is my refuge and strength...
About ten minutes passes, and then the door opens again. Footsteps in, rustle of paper, footsteps out.
"Alright, Jo. You can turn round again now. Good girl. I'm glad to see you came to some sense." His tone is quite cajoling, now.
Like I’m a child or a pet animal. She feels sick with the feeling.Joanna turns around, still on the desk. She says nothing; she does not trust herself to speak.
He smiles up at her. "Now, kneel down on the desk. Hands on knees, and the knees about two or three feet apart. Wide enough so you cann't launch yourself at me and scratch out my eyes or something."
Blood drains from her face. Joanna says in a shaking voice,
"Please, no...have you not done enough?"
His voice goes from laughing to stern. "Do it."
I can’t pray. I can’t breathe. Is all she can think.[ Her horror...he will do something worse is like feeling a hot knife at her back prompting her to ignimony. But it is just a pose. Just a pose Joanna. Remember the drill instructors making you scream insults about yourself. Remember your father...
With a slight trembling...Joanna kneels down and positions herself. She deliberately keeps her face forward, and though she has more tears slowly coming her face is grave as though posing for a portrait.
"Good. Don't be ashamed, Joanna. You've got a delicious body. Yum yum!" He laughs as he looks up at her, meeting her eyes.
"Now. Tell me more about Valerian and his ex-wife."
"B-Bridgette? The marriage was unconsummated." she says.
"It was, was it? Are you sure?"
"Yes." she says firmly.
"I see. Alright. Tell me of Magda."
"Magda is very happy with Witzig. They love each other very much. She likes living in Terraus." Her anger was beginning to return. She hated her daughter’s name on his lips.
"How very sweet. Is she as pretty as you?"
"She has red hair. She's more delicate." Joanna answers, sniffling. The memory of her daughter’s most recent birthday…her wedding, her looking up into Witzig’s eyes…Joanna has the awful feeling that her own life is over.
"Aw, Jo, don't cry." His voice again has a touch of concern - only a touch, so little it's hard to tell if it's there at all. He produces a silk handerchief from a pocket, and stands up, and dabs it on her tears.
Joanna quietly thanks him. "My youngest, Aurora, is just thirteen now." she adds.
<WhisperingVoices> "Ah. I hope very much to meet her some day."
Joanna suddenly stiffens and glares at him. "What...do..you..mean?" she says, her teeth clenched. Her rage and hate suddenly sizzle over the fear like water boiling out of a pot.
"Ooops. Now now, sweetie, don't get yourself all excited. Your chest is heaving quite enough - although I guess that's not really a problem."
He puts a finger near (but not in biting range, he learns his lessons the hard way) of her mouth.
"Ssssh."
Joanna is now red faced and furious.
"I wouldn't worry, Jo. I doubt any of the Imperial family will be going anywhere without an entire division around them, at the moment. Say, they'll probably have worked out that body we left was a fake by now."
He goes to sit back down, again cross legged.
Joanna attempts to restore her dignity as best she can, by lifting her head and staring coolly at the wall.
"Now. What can we talk about next? I know! Lavenrunz's immediate foreign policy. Give us a list of your enemies, there's a good girl."
"Whispering Voices." she says.Any dignity this affords her is probably lost somewhat by her open-legged nakedness, but it's the best she can think of.
"Other than us, of course."
"Iesus Christi."
"Work with me here, Jo. I'm too lazy to think of new humiliations for the moment, but rest assured I can if pressed. More of them."
"Most of the Reich. Kalessin. That's really it. There is no communist movement of strength anymore in Lavenrunz."
"I see the Dominion didn't even figure. How very sad, yet telling."
He opens a drawer in the desk, and pulls out a small cookie. "Now, you've been a good girl, so you get a treat. Eat this." He holds the cookie to her mouth.
Joanna starts to cry. "I never did...just as foes of the moment." trying not to sob, she takes a bite of the cookie.
"Go on - eat it all up."
Barely tasting it, Joanna forces herself to eat the cookie entirely.
He waits til she finishes, and then pats her on the head - for all the world, as if she were a trained pet.
"Good girl. Good girl ..." he tickles her under the chin.
Joanna manages to get her crying under control. With an effort, she looks up at him. "Thank you, Ambassador, for the refreshment." The attempt to restore her dignity sounds pathetic to her ears.
"You're welcome, Jo." He beams a smile down at her.
"Now. Stand up again, and face the wall."
This time, he's close enough for her to hear a tiny buzzing sound - maybe an implanted ear piece, a communications device.
Joanna says politely as though speaking to her tailor. "On the desk?"
"Yes."
Feeling a relief at leaving her undignified spread legged position, she climbs to her feet and faces the wall.Again, the door opens. Guard walks in. Paper delivered. Guard walks out, door shuts. Silence, aside from the sound of Etienne reading a report.
However, this time when he finishes, he closes the report.
Joanna hides a sob. She finds cruel thoughts of the greater part of her life in her head--and thrusts them away.
"Now. Kneel down again, as you were. Hands on knees, knees apart."
Her heart sinks. Her thoughts are somehow vanishing.
This is like a nightmare. Joanna kneels down.
"Now. Lean back and look at the ceiling. Arch your back."
Staring at him, she hopes desperately that she misheard him.
"Get on with it, woman."
Feeling cold all over, she leans back a little, about 45 degrees from her kneetips, looking up.
"That's it. Get those lovely breasts jutting. Stay like that." Then, additional humiliation. The guard enters to collect the documents. She can't see if he's looking, but on full display as her body is, it's a safe guess that he is.
The steps leave the room, mercifully.
"Now, what to do next, Jo? Or perhaps ... yes, you've been a good girl now." And I can almost manage to walk without my ribcage creaking, he thinks.
Try to be calm, Joanna...this does not matter. This does...(horrid echoes of his words--'the lucky sailors'..)she tries to breathe normally. But at least he didn’t do that. Parade me before the crew.
"Let's have you taken back to your room,shall we?” he suggests pleasantly—with a thickness to his voice now. “But first - breathe deeply. As if you had been running. I want to see your chest rise and fall as much as you can make it."
It is good advice, really. Except...of course, he doesn’t want her to calm down, he wants to ogle her. She struggles angrily to keep the tears away, and takes deep breaths. She can't see him from here, but she can feel his unpleasant, lingering gaze. And then hear his footsteps as he stands - and a touch on her right leg, half way between her knee and upper thigh.
"You've really been very well behaved. I'm proud of you. Off the desk, and onto the floor, now."
Joanna gets down onto the floor, and looks directly at him. It is the look of a general forced to retreat before another. Bowed but not broken.
"Get on your knees." His voice raps out.
Now what? Joanna feels a sudden surge of temper again. But her thoughts scream caution. She kneels down. She realizes suddenly why she is angry, and the look she gives him is clear as a thought. You vile wretch. You have touched me without my permission.
"Now. Guards!” he calls out. He watches her caerfully until the two soldiers file in. When he speaks, his own irritation from her look shaks in his voice.
"Walk the Empress - on all fours, like the dog she is - to her cabin. There ensure the staff have removed all her clothes and her upper bed sheets, and all towels of a size she can wrap around herself. Also all sharp objects - we don't want any accidents. Walk her there past the engineering deck, so the crew get a good look at Lavenrunz's 'pride and joy'."
"Thank you for a very pleasant afternoon." the Empress manages to say. She looks at him gravely but tears are pouring down her face. She thinks, Oh, God, why couldn’t I just bow my head?
"You're welcome, pet." He reaches down, and pats her on the head. "Now, if I hear good things about you, tomorrow might go better. Alright?"
Joanna opens her mouth...and then shuts it.
The scarred soldier moves on ahead, out of the room. The other soldier waits for Jo to move out, on hands and knees.
Sick at heart, the Empress of Lavenrunz crawls out of the room. She keeps her eyes ahead.
She is led along the mercifully-plush carpeted floor. At least, being a luxury yacht, she's not going to skin her knees. Along corridors, a twisted and circuitous route. Cameras are everywhere, watching and monitoring and recording. There barely seems to be a spot on the ship that cannot be put under surveillance.
Eventually, they reach some stairs down. Mercifully for her, they are at least wide stairs - but the degradation of going down them, on all fours, with a soldier standingg behind her is quite immense. It seemed a long way before. It is longer now. And different. She barely feels like herself. It is like being cast adrift from her very being.
They reach the bottom, and she is led along further corridors. Occasionally they pass someone - generally palish skin, glinting red in their eyes. She does note - the majority of those they pass in fact avoid her eyes. Perhaps embarrassed by her weakness, or perhaps out of some desire to save her blushes. But somehow she knows that they won’t help her. The way they look away tells her that. The sense of his power over her increases, though she fights it desperately.
Then, the noise gets louder - sounds like the engine room is up ahead. There are metallic clangs of spanners, and the occasional hiss of steam. Soon they cross a huge bulkhead, and enter a sweltering hot room. The people here are different, it looks like. Less pale skin - and they don't have red eyes, when they meet hers. She can already feel sweat on her body, but also a new chill. Of physical threat. The urge to get up and run is strong. She has never seen eyes like this, worse somehow than Etienne’s, crawling over her bare flesh. She sees wide eyes and swarthy skin, hairy muscular flesh and dirty undershirts and hands. They are crowding her path. A brawny olive skinned man with beetle dark eyes she is creeping past suddenly reaches out with thick fingers to briefly trail his hand along her back, and she convulsively shudders as though vermin had crawled on her. The guard behind is possibly what prevents him from reaching for more. Joanna is nearly paralyzed with horror; she can either crawl or simply scream. It is not just the physicality. It is that these awful creatures are looking at her in a way that strips away all remnants of majesty. She hears a chorus of catcalls, of obscene suggestions, and sees flashes of obscene gestures, hands and pumping crotches lewdly responding to her. They are men from anywhere and nowhere, a variety of accents and skin tones. They look at her like starving animals looking at meat.
Joanna keeps crawling...numb with dread.
She is led along the engine room, and close to the exit bulkhead, when she feels a sweaty, greasy hand grope at her buttocks. Her breath seems to leave her. Even as she senses motion of the guard behind her, hears a crunch of a stock against flesh and bone, she finds herself fainting. It is all too much.

Waking, alone in her room, she is lying naked on a bed without sheets or comforter. Alone. She rises and does not cover herself—it would look foolish anyway,but feels a sense of being painted in shame as she looks in the wardrobe. As she thought: empty.
Joanna weeps for a time. She simply can't help it. Thoughts of things torment her. Her family--how she is unable to be near them. Her friends--how she longs for them. Siri. Viole. The friendly people in GMC Military Arms. Gallant William Xylon...the thought of him bowing and kissing her hand is like a taunt from a nightmare.
What torments her as much as her humiliation physically is the thought that she might have failed SATO, Lavenrunz and herself. And his amusement at her naivete...that the actions of his state are simply expediency, that she is nothing to them. A fool.
But what could I have done? she asks herself as she weeps.
No answer seems to come.
The ever-present camera simply watches.
She can still feel the grease of the greasemonkey's hand on her body.
Shuddering at the memory, feeling ill again at her vulnerability, Joanna goes into the bathroom. However, she doesn't feel like vomiting when she gets there.
Instead, she sits and thinks.
What can I do? she asks herself.
Nothing for now.
It's quite late now, she notices. The light coming in through the porthole has faded from gold into a dull red.
I dare not bluff him--he has all the cards. We are at sea on an immense ship.
Two days have gone by.
I will have to get along with him, and bide my time. And hope...
Then somehow, it comes to her. Fully.
I shall not fret myself because of evildoers. Neither will I be envious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb. Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shall I dwell in the land, and verily I shall be fed. Delight myself in the Lord, and he will give me the desires of my heart. Commit myself to the Lord, trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass. Cease from anger, and forsake wrath, fret not myself to do any evil for the evildoers shall be cut off…I have seen the wicked in grat power, and spreading himself like a green bay tree. Yet he passed away, and lo, he was not. Yea, I sought him, but he could not be found..
Reciting the psalm, she finds a peace. No answers yet. But Joanna is able to wash herself, and feel a sense that there is strength yet to be had. Emerging, she lies down and goes to sleep.

OOC: Again, this is based on an IRC chat with the nation performing the kidnapping, just so people know. It was altered to be principally from Joanna's point of view.

*will start an extra thread related to his 'campaign' in Taraskova later, for now...*

ic:

"So, you understood me? Yoou start, and you systematically check the south atlantic, then the north atlantic, then the adjacent seas. You will work together with the 1st, 2nd, 4th, 6th, 7th and 8th wing. Makes 864 of you. Your hold your positions. Two km above the surface, four km from each other. That is all. Good luck!"

---

While the transportersquadrons were 'abused' for the search mission, soldats was busy checking practically all possible frequencies for information. As a matter of fact, any incoming transmission was checked for possible encoding. AI`s worked to find possible non- logical codes, and generally, well, it was a busy day.

Of course, considering the simply giant mass of communications all over the world, they wouldn`t find the information early... in the best case 24 hours after it was actually new, although 72 hours were possible as well. However, it could give them information on who actually took part in this plot. And that was better than nothing.

:tag:

Division Five Command, Deep Tsarai

"You're sure this is correct?" Rene asked, glaring at her screens.
"Checked and confirmed." Schaden tsaKell replied in a mournful tone. "However, we can't leap into action like the last time Lavenrunz got a bloody nose," Schaden continued, "The NDA would definitely not approve. And the Pipeline is too valuable to throw away."
Rene sighed. "I know, I know. But we can offer our assistance, surely?"
"There's no reason why we couldn't offer the help of the EIC, RKC and the Setnet data. But Seven, Eight and Nine will have to sit it out."
"I'm not an idiot, Schaden." Rene growled, "I know that. Furthermore, I'm older than you are. So stop acting like my father, no?"
"Someone has to have the sense in this Division, don't they?"
"I'd like to think it's in the head that wears the Iron Crown, my friend." Rene replied. "So. How soon could you get an agent into Lavenrunz?"
"Now? With a lot of difficulty, I'm afraid. The nation's at high alert, after all. It's almost up to our standards."
"What about activating a sleeper, then?"
"That we can do, yes."

Hofburg, Lavenrunz

Karal tsaGehn recieved some odd looks as he made his way to the government offices; while the Lavenrunzians were used to men in uniform, men in the black-and-blue of Tsarainese uniform were certainly rarer.
He fell unconciously into a formal step as he walked. Even after thirty-three years, the old habits came back, though the missing weight of a Tsarainese rifle was discomforting.
Sweet Fate, just wearing the uniform again made him feel thirty years younger; even more suprisingly, it still fitted. But then he'd always kept in shape.
The receptionists, too, gave him odd looks as he entered the building.
"Hello," he said, the clipped tones and stresses of the Tsarainese accent thicker than usual, "I'm Platoon Commandant Karal tsaGehn, Division Seven, Infantry Corps, Third Batallion, Eighteenth Legion, Ninth Platoon (commanding), Obsidian Medal, Valour Medal, Ordo Expatria. Currently recomissioned to deliver a message to Archduke Valerian from the Dominion of Tsaraine. If you'd contact him for me, please?"

OOC: I'm terribly sorry, but you'll have to edit that. For two reasons.
Schtoopstadt is actually the name of someone else's capital in the game. Hofburg is mine. You'd have to fly there, or if you came from Tsaraine, land at the rocket facilities at the city of Astra. That place has Tsarainese expats still who could smooth processes, but even so things are very tightly screened.
And since you said government offices I'm making an assumption.
IC:
One of the secretaries said, "Well, sir, this is the Chancery, and is where the Imperial Government is centered...but the Archduke does not make appointments in this fashion. Could you perhaps be welling to see a department head or a minister?"

OOC: Eeegh... many many apologies. I'll edit the capital thing. But let me explain; Tsaraine has expats in Lavenrunz. Karal is one such. Tsaraine also has people who pass on information - "sleepers" - in Lavenrunz; Karal is one of these too. In extraordainary circumstances a sleeper can be activated to perform some task, in this case delivering info to Lavenrunz's government. I'm assuming that Tsaraine can get data in to him through some suitably circuitous route, seeing as how Lavenrunz isn't a state controlled everything like Tsaraine.

A submarine, moving with a caterpillar drive and stealthy as a hunting shark, surfaces at the same time as a battlesatellite begins sending a massie barrage of confusing transmissions to flood the Zophael.
A large door on the upper surface of the strangely built and large submarine opened, and as though spat from it, three small boats launched and zipped at terrific speed over the water towards the Zophael. The submarine began to tilt itself at an odd angle as though gathering itself to spit some more.
In the lead boat, Lieutenant-Commander Rohl had no thought now but to get aboard and get the mission done.

OOC:

Since the game is blatantly up now, I'd just like to point out that no-one should assume they have agents in Whispering Voices. If you are desperate to have one, feel free to attempt to RP an infiltration (I'm available on IRC), however if you try it without doing the research don't expect to succeed.

I'd just like to give Lavenrunz a hug for being a good sport. The RP didn't end up where I'd aimed it, it took a big wide curve and shot out to sea. Ah well - it was probably more interesting this way.

((OOC: Excellent storyline. I hope somebody gets in touch with the Shogunate about the ship's specs though ^_^ When/if Queenie hears about it, she'll be piiiiiiiissed. I'm already working on plots over here!))

"Claudia is frantic to get on with things, but her experience tells her not to panic and take things carefully. She patiently asks for details about the ship and it's command detail and defensive and offensive arrangements. And was there any idea of where the Empress was kept on the ship?"

"The ship is a Sirithil-class Luxury Ship, available by catalogue from Reploid Publications. Here (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=1562395#1562395)..." she passes over a brochure. "She and her sister ship, the Uriel, were modified with bullet-proof glass, armoured hulls, the top deck gutted of rooms to allow armouries and their engines upgraded to 'Voices-supplied fusion. We can't say what they have, or haven't added to her armouries. In a similar way we haven't been able to reason anything significant about her commander... or at least we hadn't when I left."

"While our witness saw her come on board he didn't know where the empress was being kept... we assume that if they wanted to keep her locked in a hold they wouldn't have transferred her to a luxury liner to do so. She is probably beeing kept under house-, or should I say cabin-arrest... a gilded cage."

"I hope you also understand that you will have to remain here, in isolation though great comfort until..things are more orderly." the Chancellor adds.
"I understand you don't want me running around spreading this story... and that you'd want to keep me here while you confirm the information. A stay in your ample hospitality will be amenable. I'd request, however, that if you wish to confirm details with my government that you do so with the utmost discretion."

The Commissioner sighed at the blinking order on his screen, with the tag that indicated it came directly from the Executive Council - via Sarah.

Cancel all efforts related to the Lavenrunzian affair.

Great. So first of all, they had to disrupt normal running in order to try to aid; and now they had to drop it all again, and act like nothing had happened.

Great. Just... great.

* * *

A flurry of activity above the Earth takes place; MISATs moved into lower orbits for more detailed scans return to original positions, and for several brief seconds, EOTED is completely blind - except above Lodoss, of course.

It`s beauty.

The beauty of her plane, the beauty of it`s engines.

She keeps the systems running.

She enjoys being here, in the air.

She isn`t a normal being, she isn`t like all this ants called human.

She is more, she is the machine, perfect, and invulnerable.

With 900 km/h, she flies over the sea, scanning the area.

Scanning, of course, doesn`t mean to scan it with RADAR, or infrared.

Scanning means, scanning it for faint electromagnetical signatures, as they are typical for a human brain.

She scans for thoughts.

She feels the thoughs, coming from living beings in the sea, from fishing trawers, from seamen, from fishes.

The problem is, of course, how to find the empress this way.

Her thought partterns, her 'psychic signature' is unknown.

They might very well find the ship she`s on and don`t find her.

As they can only find her by finding thoughts about her.

It`s now the second day they search. They used the new transporters, which, due to their large resonancebodies, amplified the telepathic abilities of the pilots most.

Still, they didn`t find anything. The ocean is huge.

To huge.

'Another ship.' she thinks, not too surprised. It`s around thousand meters from her. Doesn`t matter, her range is, thanks to her enlarged body, the plane, considerable larger.

A beautiful ship, actually, large, fast, and pleasent.

But, strangely enough, as large as this ship is, she won`t get any thoughts from it.

'Hasn`t this ship a crew?'

In fact, her electromagnetic field, expanded over the area, suddenly has holes in it, as if her energy, her grabbing thoughts, are consumed by something else...

She is curious, but hasn`t the time to check it, there is something more important out there... The empress.

Flying by, she finally finds one thought on this strange ship... she didn´t find it earlier, the 'holes' in her telepathic field prevented her from reaching it...

It doesn`t seem to important, it`s a large thought, a tought of pain... she wont get more details, she flies by to fast, the ship is already out of range...

Perhaps something terrible happened on that ship, and there is only one survivor... will have to inform the coastal command, to rescue this one survivor... and to find out what is responsible to block my thoughts...

However, for now, she continues her search.

ooc: Hope this is acceptable. And yes, there is a reason why i only got Joannas thoughts, weakened. Damn Whisper :/

Andrew dropped the document he was holding in his hand as ELF, Menelmacar's news channel announced that that the Lavenrunz Empress has just gone missing.

Outside of the Heartland, Andrew had several close friends. And Empress Joanna was one of them.

He was aware that the times of SATO has changed since the last confrontation with The Reich, and if it weren't for the internal troubles of the Heartland, he might have allocated more intelligence resources to keep track of the latest happenings with the Alliance.

"Get me a comm. links to SATO control. This is a time where we need to band together."

*bump*

OOC:

Just waiting for a time myself, Joanna and the Territory are on at the same time to finish the attack then the thread will move on.

Devils Desert Aerospace Defence Command Provisional Central Command Center, Damocles Regional Defence System, DomLBeF

Amid the sounds of construction echoing from other chambers, a tall man uniformed in blue sits in the finished central chamber watching a screen displaying construction reports, asset tracking, feeds from in-place orbital facilities and satellites, and the reports from manufactories and naval yards across the region of the Devils Desert in all contributing nations.

An aide comes in and passes some papers over to the commander, who keys his console for a display.

Pro Tem CIC-DDADC Antonin Valdez: "Well, shit."

OOC: Lav...Uh...I''m not sure how much help Ben can be. I am so damn behind now on this. The weekend is obviously the WORST time for me to be off.

The War Council room was very quiet. Even techs giving reports were muted. There was a stench of smoke from cigarettes and cigars and tension.
Archduke Valerian was like a statue, sitting. He was lost in thought.
Not this way. Please...God, I don't want to come to my rule like this. Let her be safe. Let her be unharmed. Speed our forces to victory.
Admiral Engelhardt was answering a telephone. Listening, he put his cigar down and his face took on a grim aspect. "Hold, please." he said curtly.
Rising, the Admiral said, "Highness...the raid was a failure. They have fallen back. The ship's security was too ready, and the element of surprise was lost. The submarine's commander has an opportunity to sink the ship."
"In the northern Atlantic?" exclaimed General Schlabel. "I will not take such a responsibility for Her Majesty's life."
"Abort the mission." said Valerian in a dead voice. "I feel it was a fool's errand. A fool's chance."
"Highness, may I nevertheless order elements of the Atlantic Fleet to move in the general direction of Dominion Island?" Schlabel asked. "Mobilization of reserves is nearly complete. If they want a war, we are ready."
Valerian managed a nod. "But if anyone asks, we are doing readyness exercises, for now. Thank you." he stood, the general staff and their aides bowed as he Heir left the room.

OOC: WARNING: This is an edit of rp done by Whispering Voices and myself. It contains ADULT CONTENT. It is relevant to character development but it may offend some people entirely out of character.
IC:
Joanna wakes up in darkness…and is instantly wary. A UV component to the room's light is on, highlighting two soldiers - different ones, this time - standing by her bed. They're breathing softly. Waiting for her to show she is awake, apparently. She sits up, feeling alarmed.
"Meal time, ma'am."
"Thank you." Joanna says, clearing her throat. "What am I to do?"
"Follow us." Says the dispassionate voice.
She hesitates. "May I wash up first?"
"Yes."
They wait, impassively; the red tint of their eyes is odd in the UV light.
Hiding her embarrassment at getting up naked in front of these automata like men, Joanna does gets ready, quickly but effectively, combs her hair and brushes her teeth, and then goes to them. She remains on her feet.
The guard who spoke nods, and leads the way out. Seemingly, they have not been ordered to repeat her earlier humiliation - in fact, the corridors they lead her along are empty.
'Fret not...' Joanna reminds herself. She walks along with them...
She is lead into what appears to be a mess hall. Part of the crew is here - and its clear it is divided. The element that can obviously be associated with Whispering Voices - soldiers, naval experts such as men with badges with satellite dishes on - are a small group, eating at one table. The rest of the crew is far larger, and muttering. The mechanics from the engine room, other brawny men. Looks like a hired crew.
At the head of the hall, on a table with two guards, Etienne sits, openly grinning at her approach.
A wave of nausea goes through Joanna. No...a thought comes. However, she finds somewhere the strength to lift her head and follow the guards where they lead her. The awareness of the revelations of her body as she walks puts a flame in her cheeks, but she also walks like an Empress.
His grin fades somewhat at her majestic approach. As she walks past the smaller table, they avoid looking at her. The soldiers steer her away from the larger table, and the men closest to her seemingly flinch away from their gazes. By the time she finishes her majestic approach, Etienne looks positively angry - both at her, and at the two who escorted her.
With an obvious effort, he smoothes his face, and gives her a charming smile.
"Welcome to dinner, Jo."
"Good evening, Ambassador." Joanna says, smiling at him. It is not ingratiating; it is not arrogant, rather it is actual a genuine smile of gracious welcome.
If anything, her self-control seems to annoy him more. It's obvious that it is important to him that she be miserable. He pauses, thinking for a few moments.
"Get on the table. Hands and knees, again."
Joanna draws a breath, feeling ice down her back, and says, "Kneeling, hands on my knees, Ambassador?"
"That's the one. Then you may face me and talk to me whilst you eat, and you can give the lonely, lonely crew a good view whilst doing so. Everyone's happy, that way."
Joanna is agonizingly aware of how much on display she is as she climbs onto the table and kneels upright, knees well apart, hands on her knees. A slightly embarrassed looking waiter brings in a tray of food from a side door. He tries not to look at her, and sets it down on the table. Storm clasps are clipped around it, so she can't move it, and it has no cutlery.
"Now, Jo. Eat up! I'm afraid you'll have to trough a bit, but don't let the hundred odd men behind you worry you. I'm sure they'll be most grateful for what they see."
Obviously, the only way for her to eat while staying on her knees will be with her buttocks high in the air.
Joanna closes her eyes. She looks at him, and they are wet. She softly asks, "Why are you doing this?"
He whispers back, "to break you, sweetheart. To break you."
Joanna feels the pit open again, and whispers, "But...you said if I obeyed..."
"It could be far worse." He flicks his eyes behind her, towards the table of mechanics. "You'd probably bleed, you know, if even a tenth of them took you. Internal bleeding, severe I'd think if I gave you to half of them. Looking is better than touching, right? Show a bit more humility in future."
"I'm sorry, I don't understand." her eyes are pleading now. "I really don't." she starts to cry quietly, and bends to eat.
He reaches out and ruffles her hair. "Good Jo. Eat it all up." Catcalls and wolfwhistles echo out from behind her as she is displayed like a prime slab of meat.
Joanna lifts her head. She looks at him, and even though she is crying, and really humiliated, she tries to smile at him. Fret not… she thinks desperately.
At a sound of clattering and movement of feet Joanna looks up at him, alarmed.
It sounds like people are trooping out.
"Now, now, pet. Just some of the men going back to work." In fact, when she bends down to eat she can look between the arch of her legs and see that the entirety of the small table is gone, now. Only the foreign crewmembers are left - and they're all staring at her. She almost chokes.
"Now, Jo. You want to make me happy, don't you? Just how good are you going to be from now on?"
Whatever picture she is to the crew, to him she is visibly forcing herself not to tremble, not to sob. She is forced to expose her most intimate parts to the crew, she has food smeared on her face. Joanna says in a soft voice, "I will be very good."
He grins again. "Eat up, now. Maybe I can think of a treat for you afterwards, eh?"
"That would be nice." whispers Joanna.
"Maybe a walk on deck? Sunbathing? It would be a shame not to display that heavenly body." He runs the finger on her cheek down, along the length of her jaw and chin, down her throat and along to one breast.
Before she has really registered it, shocked, he goes back to eating his own meal with a chuckle.
The horror of it has her almost paralyzed. It is as clear as an epiphany. He will and can do anything he wants to humiliate and hurt her--and he will do far worse if she does not submit.
The meal passes slowly. Very slowly.
But eventually it does end. He passes her a handkerchief to wipe her face with.
“Thank you.” She says, her hand trembling as she cleans herself.
"Now, Jo. Who are you? Think carefully before answering now."
Appalled, Joanna stares at him. His meaning is all too clear. But her vows! What is nakedness, what is humiliation next to breaking them? She says quietly, "You know...you should be careful. Do you think you are only humiliating me? You make something clear: I have no life save at your will. But you are wrong. I am Joanna von Sachshausen, Empress of Lavenrunz."
He growls.
She turns to face the room, and her eyes are fierce. "I am Joanna von Sachshausen, Empress of Lavenrunz!"
"Wrong answer, wrong answer!"
He grabs her hair.
"And beware." her eyes rake the eyes of those there, as though his grip, which makes her wince, is a minor thing. "Beware."
Joanna turns on him with glacier eyes. "Go ahead. Have me raped to death. Kill me. But I will not give up my sacred title and birthright!"
Etienne snarls, "You - and you. Help me, here." Two of the crew head towards the table, their eyes glinting. Gripping her hair so tightly the roots pull, he sneers, "Oh, no, sweetheart. You're no use dead.” To the sailors, he says, "Grab hold of her, you two. You - over there. Bring in a stretcher, and some restraints. Let's see what we can't jury rig here."
The rest of the crew are hushed, the atmosphere thick with tension and expectation.
Suddenly, rage and hate boiling in her, seeing she has nothing to lose, Joanna explodes into action, raking at his eyes, gouging fiercing, growling like a beast. With his hand already holding her head - or hair at least - he manages to fend her off. The two burly sailors try to grab her flailing arms. Joanna launches herself at one, picking him at random, and aims fiercely for whatever vulnerabilities he presents.
Her head is yanked back - he's got a strong grip - and she lands on her back on the table. However, he's not expecting an attack, and she kicks him so hard in the jaw there is snap! sound. He crumples.
Ducking and whirling, she kicks at the knee of the other.
The second sailor darts out of the way of her flailing limbs, but not fast enough to avoid being kicked in the knee. Meanwhile, still holding her head, Etienne grasps her round the neck again, attempting to choke her consciousness away. Summoning a great effort, Joanna brings her legs up rapidly and shoves with all their strength backwards--since that's the way Etienne is pulling. With a grunt of surprise, he falls over the back of his chair, but he's strong enough to bring her with him, and continues squeezing. Joanna is desperately heaving for air now, her vision starting to go...but since he has to hold onto her...she reaches back and rakes his nostrils viciously. She feels blood and skin flake under her nails. He gasps with pain, but doesn't let go. A desperate last act: thumb jabs to the wrists and twist.
This hurts him enough to make him cry out, letting go of her neck with one arm as his hand literally goes dead. The other hand keeps squeezing though. Nearly done...nearly done..focus! convulsively her hand claws into the big hand muscle between thumb and finger. He yelps, and throws her to the ground. He swears, and staggers. Joanna slams her heels into his knees. "Do something, you bastards," he gasps to the - so far unmoving - guards as she kicks his legs out from under him, and he falls forward.
She hears the clicks of safeties being released.
Joanna looks up.
There's a gun levelled at her - or rather, it doesn't look quite like a gun. But the way in which it is held makes its purpose obvious.
The soldier gestures for her to move away from the groaning ambassador.
Joanna complies. Obvious suicide is a sin…though she almost longs for an end. However, she draws herself up and glares round the room.
The crew look both scared and excited. She is determined to show no fear.
Etienne, bleeding from his wrists, pulls himself off the floor and shoots a glare at the guards. He massages his wrists.
"One more ... aagh," he stops to catch his breath. "One more thing like that, and you can dream of your entire family going through this, bitch."
Joanna gives the ambassador her look. "Who am I?" she says coldly.
"You're Joanna, soon to be the most popular ride on the ship."
He reaches into his jacket, and pulls out a gun he didn't have time to draw earlier, points it at her. It's a large calibre pistol.
Joanna takes a deep breath but says with genuine contempt, "I've seen guns before, little man."
"Oh believe me. You won't be seeing this one for long."
"Grab her," he tells one of the soldiers, who heads towards her - but he does so cautiously. He's obviously got a far better idea of how to fight than anyone else.
Joanna says quietly, "It's a sacred oath. I CAN'T break it. I would rather die."
"Fascinating. Really. I can't tell you how much I don’t give a f*** right now." He's clearly in a lot of pain.
She looks at the soldier and says, "A sacred oath. I would betray my people if I broke it."
The soldier pauses, but Etienne cries out, "Do it!" - and he does. Obviously, they are trained to obey.
Joanna is grabbed; she not resist, but stands tall with dignity.
"Right. Put her on that stretcher, put the leg runners out and wide."
She is led, then, towards a stretcher that has been brought in. The crewman who has done so pulls what look like leg rests out, and sets them at an angle close to ninety degrees.
"You men - grab her. Put her on the stretcher." The leg rests are locked in position.
"Because you need to force me, Etienne." in spite of her fright, Joanna says this with cold contempt. "If you treated me with honour, even now...but you need to have me dragged by force and at gunpoint."
"It's a hard world, woman. And for you, it's about to get a whole lot ... harder."
Joanna begins to pray aloud, clearly saying, "The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He leadeth me..."
She is forced back onto the stretcher, her hips just on the edge. Her legs are buckled into the leg restraints, which are then folded, keeping her knees bent. Her arms are manacled, upper and lower, to the stretcher, a strap is put over her waist.
The antiseptic surface is unpleasant beneath her bare skin, very warm and moist.
"Down to green pastures..." Joanna is desperately fighting the sense of horror growing and growing...like an abyss.."He leadeth me beside the still waters..."
There is a babble of excitement from the crew, then.
Etienne leans over her, fastening a neck restraint himself.
"He restoreth my soul." Joanna fights to catch the eyes of people.
"Now, we see what happens to bad girls, eh Jo-jo?"
"I couldn't." tears fill her eyes. "I would betray everyone if I did."
Oh, God, I'm so scared. is all she can think.
She catches his eyes. They burn, really. Dislike, hatred, guilt and lust all mixed. He moves out of sight, as she is forced to stare at the ceiling.
"He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake." her voice is a hoarse whisper.
"You. Get two guards on the balcony up there." Excited questions ring out, asking who gets to take her first. He lets them go on for a long time.
"Yea..." Joanna whispers. Would I suffer anything? For Lavenrunz? My family?
Then ... "No-one, I'm afraid, gentlemen." There is a deathly silence. That was not expected. "You can look, you can feel, but you cannot take her, am I making myself clear?"
There is the distinct snick-snick!noise of weapons readying. A muting of the hoarse lustful demanding voices of the crew.
A still small voice in her says, Yes.
"Yea..." Joanna's voice trembles. "Yea," she says more loudly, "though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me."
Etienne’s voice says loudly, "If any of these men do anything more than touch her, shoot them."
"Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me." prays Joanna.
Etienne mockingly laughs. "Well, someone's rod and staff may be comforting you soon, Jo."
"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies." she says, looking at him directly. She then feels something between her legs - but it's not flesh. It's metal, chill and cold and smooth. The gasping sound, coming so rapidly is her own breath. She is unable to speak.
And the gun barrel - she can just see the grip in his hand - pushes into her.
"Nggh.." Joanna says, clenching her teeth.
He pushes the gun barrel further in, metal ridges along the top brushing hard against her clitoris. The metal is agonizingly cold, with sharp edges.
"Ow..." Joanna moans. At the moment she just wants it to stop.
But it doesn't. He keeps doing it, rough against the skin, changing pace so she's not quite sure what to expect, can't get into any sort of rhythm.
His malicious voice softly says, in a parody of intimacy, "You see, Jo, you're such scum I wouldn't lower myself fuck you myself. But this? It's just a weapon. Like everything, something to be used. Like you, in fact. And like you, it has a finite use before it's expended. And the pain will end when you convince me you like it. Think of this as a deal - I'll not force you to renounce Lavenrunz, you enjoy this."
Joanna starts to cry. As if she had any tears left, but she does.
"It isn't like that. You CAN'T force me to renounce Lavenrunz--ow!" Joanna sobs openly.
Etienne hisses, "I'm not, Jo. But I can kill you. I won't do either - all you need to do is enjoy this."
"Swear to me that you won't make me renounce my vows, and I will." Joanna says through teeth clenched against the pain of it.
He slows the pace, then. The cold barrel of the gun moves in slow, langorous circles inside her vagina - even pressure, except when it is pointing upwards, towards her belly. At that point, he presses a fraction harder before releasing the pressure and moving it in a circle again.
"Yea, yea. Come for the gun, Jo-jo."
“Swear!" she moans.
"I don't swear. However, I'm telling you I won't make you renounce your vows. F*** the gun."
Joanna is clearly in pain, clearly sobbing with humiliation, but she complies, moving hips back and forth, almost soundless moans of pain coming from her, her eyes staring up, lost. Then there is a feeling of emptiness, as the coldness leaves her.
"My my. Let's try a different configuration, shall we? I wasn't quite getting those 'funtime' vibes." There are a couple of clicking sounds, as if something is being slid off. The sound of metal being dropped to the floor. It returns, then, the cold feeling - but smoother, this time. No sharp edges. And he simply pushes it back insider her.
Joanna cries out, "I don't understand! What is it that you want?"
"You to come, like the slut you are. Is that too hard a concept?" He punctuates the point by 'tapping' the inside of her vaginal wall with the gun, sharply, before moving it around again in the slow circles.
Joanna tries to move against it as though seeking it, just desperate to make him stop. She knows she must sound grotesque, and look grotesque. She does her best to fake a gasping, shuddering orgasm.
"Ask for it again. Beg for it again."
"Please..." Joanna says, shuddering, "Give me the gun."
“Good girl." He withdraws it, then. Moves over, releases the clasps around her neck, right arm, and upper left arm, and waist. He puts the gun in her hand - it has a silencer on, but she can tell from the weight it's not loaded. He moves away.
"Now time for some Do-it-yourself. Get yourself off on the gun, Jo."
Wincing, trembling, Joanna makes her best effort at it. 'Please,God...make him stop.' She does her best to arch her hips, sigh and moan, reach fulfillment--or seem to.
It seems to satisfy him. "That's good, whore. But you've got my gun dirty. Suck it clean, and then I can send you back to your room."
Joanna actually can barely do it, her sobs wrack her so. But she manages at last to put her nerveless hands around it and force it into her mouth.
"You, men. You can touch her, but don't insert anything into her or hit her. Just stroke her. Smile for the cameras, Jo. Lights, camera, action!"
The crewmen touch her, hands greasy from work and food smearing in her sweat, running along her breasts and inner thighs and legs and back and buttocks, and through her hair. Joanna has to actually make a wrenching effort to smile. But she does. Even though she is shuddering like a woman with a fever at their touching.
"Good girl. All done? Did you suck your dirty filth off my gun? Just nod, yes or no."
Joanna nods.
He takes the gun off her, and motions for a crewman to unclasp her. "Your such a good girl, Jo." He beams a smile at her. "I think you can have a treat. I'll have a beaker of wine sent to you - no glass, I know how upset you might feel. The soldiers will escort you to your room."

((OOC: Good Goddess-! :shock: ))

Imperial Palace, Arpia

"... And that is the situation as it stands. Akkard has released the specifications for the ships Zophael and Uriel to the appropriate places. Hopefully the situation will be resolved soon." Tsume finishes his report to the queen of the Shogunate, who is somewhat occupied waxing her orange and yellow Elite Victory fighter.

"I hope so." Firefury growls in a low voice. "I take it Akkard has blacklisted Whispering Voices?"

"Yes, though such an action is little more than symbolic, as they are not frequent customers." The black reploid dragon bobs his head. "Overall, the situation is quite tense, and may very well escalate into military hostilities."

"Good." The queen snorts. "If possible, once the Lavenrunz Empress is off board, I'd like it greatly if those two ships could be sunk promptly. People who play such dirty games don't deserve to keep such splendid toys."

"Firefury-sama, I understand that the situation seriously offends your sense of honor, but it would probably be best if we remain no more involved than we already are. We've done the responsible thing and given over useful information to those more directly involved-"

"Put the First Space Defense Fleet on alert. If things do escalate, I damn well will NOT be caught off guard. How many ships from the Second Colonial Guard Fleet are complete?"

"Um..." If the black mechanical dragon could go pale, Tsume probably would be right about now. "The Amatsu fleet is roughly 2/3s complete at this time."

"Hrm..." Firefury thinks for a moment. "So that's two Shogunate class flags, maybe 3 Archangels, and what? 7 Tenmous? Attach them to the 1SDF for now. And somebody brief our allies of the situation."

"As you wish, Highness..." Tsume sighs. "But don't you think this could count as going against your own foreign policy?"

"I never said I'd start anything, Tsume." The reploid smiles, a look that Tsume notes is extremely wicked, sending imagined chills down his armored spine. "But in a way, they have started something with me, using something bought from the Techcorp for such a dirty purpose."

"Any further orders?" Tsume inquires, all business now, knowing when not to question the queen.

"Yes, actually. Deploy a couple of Tsubasas to track the Empress, and the movement of both ships. Send any and all information the drones gather to GMC and to Lavenrunz. The Tsubasa's fly high enough and cold enough that they'll be hard to detect using the standard navigation equipment on board a ship like that. And it'll be a good way to find out how much military escort she's got- we can afford to loose a few Tsubasas- they are just drones."

"As you command, Firefury-sama."

~ Secure Transmission to SATO Nations ~
Attempt at rescuing the Empress en-route to Dominion Island has failed.
We would like to request nations with satellite capabilities and atlantic fleet assets to make them available if possible, while not detracting from our overall readyness.
Archduchess Aurora, we believe, has been found. Confirmation will be given in an hour's time.
We also have configurations regarding a vessel used by Whispering Voices to effect the abduction. Whether this was officially done or not is not known as yet.

General Hans Schlabel, Minister for War
~ End Transmission ~

Sounds of battle. During it, the Empress had been taken to somewhere near the bridge, she was sure, secured and told by Etienne she would be severely punished unless she was quiet and obedient.
She prayed for victory for whoever was attacking…
But in the end she was taken down to her stateroom again.
A sense of hopelessness began to wash over her.

After an amount of time the poor, abused Empress isn't really sure about, she hears odd, distant sounds. Seagulls
'Land' she thinks. She feels so listless. However, she makes herself get up, exercise in the bathroom, and shower. She looks into the haunted eyes in the mirror with a rather bitter sense of wonder.
Not far from land - it sounds busy, too, a noisey port perhaps - her door is opened, and two more soldiers in their immaculate white enter.
Joanna comes towards them and lifts an eyebrow. "Yes?"
One of them has a bag in his hands. "Put these clothes on." He throws it onto the bed. "Then we'll take you up and the Ambassador will take you onto the island.2
Joanna almost flinches, but she smiles at herself. Orders of themselves are nothing, she is a prisoner, after all. She nods and takes a look at the clothes. Another tight dress that borders on the indecent. But, better to border the indecent than to be it. Joanna puts it on.

The guards lead the way up to a stateroom - the same one, in fact.
Etienne is sitting - with a slightly scarred nose.
Joanna cannot help but feel afraid, but she looks him calmly in the eye. "Good morning." she says politely.
"Isn't it, though?" he smiles at her, and stands up. "We're here, luckily. Final destination, and all that." He waves the soldiers out.
"Now, are you going to be a good girl?"
"Yes." Joanna says.
He tuts. "Say, yes I am going to be a good girl, sir."
"I am going to be a good girl, sir." Joanna says. You bastard."Right. This is our itinary. Today, we're going to look around Funland. Tomorrow, we open it up - and you'll be there, on camera, smiling like you have never smiled before."
Joanna says, "Yes,sir."
"In fact, I've even had a special costume designed for you so you look perfect from the front, but won't start feeling too sure about yourself."
He gestures towards a small, glossy folder on the desk.
Joanna picks it up and inspects it.
It's got photos of a costume. It seems fine, at first - several angles from the front. It's as elegant a design as a Menelmacari gown - flattering the form, not parts of it.
But from behind ... it's open. Wide open. A single set of straps across the back hold it together. The dummy it is displayed on barely looks as if it's wearing anything, from behind.
Joanna looks through the photos. "Lovely." she says. Thinking of Sirithil, sadness comes over her in a wave that makes her close her eyes for a moment.
"Now - as you can see, you'll present a happy front to the world. But try to run away anywhere, and it won't be your front the world's cameras look at. Understood?"
Joanna bursts out laughing; she is vaguely shocked at how bitter it sounds.
With a blatantly mocking grin, Etienne says, "I'm so glad you approve."
She shakes her head and says, "How will you...be able to let me go after this?" she suddenly looks at him with all her sorrow. "Please don't do this to me."
“Well, you see - as long as you stay where you're put, no-one will see a thing. Apart from me, of course. Then we announce our welcome of the Lavenrunzian convoy coming to pick you up - I'm sure they'll be sent as soon as they see the broadcast - and I'll simply hand you back over to them."
"Of course, the island has ... formidable defences, now. You couldtry to shell it - you'd probably even succeed, at the cost of half your fleet - but we'd flood Knootoss in the process. Then too, you see, the only people who will have seen the ...dinner, Jo ... will be me, you, a handful of soldiers, and some crewmen. But don't worry too much - we all appreciated your little display, I'm sure. Why, the men were most vocal in their disappointment after you left, that they didn't get to join in the fun. Why, if only women half your age looked half as good as you, the world would be a better place!"
"What, I wonder, will the rest of your allies think of this?" Joanna asks. She forced herself not to respond to his venomous goads…
"There's only one other country with a presence on the island. I won't share, if you don't, sweetheart. If you do, well, I'll be honest and share the lot, if you know what I mean."
"No." she says. "I mean, what will the dignitaries of the Dominion think if they learn you have kidnapped a head of state and...and...used her vilely?"
"The Dominion? Hadn't you heard, Joanna? It's gone. Ended. Still, I suppose not - I only found out today. Besides, most of them would ask to join in. Think, a threesome - Bob, Kane, and Jo of Lavenrunz. What a sight that would be."
Joanna says, "Am I to wear this gown as of now, or will I change into it there?"
"Celebrations aren't til tomorrow. You wear the gown tomorrow. Anyway - time to go make landfall. I shall be your gracious escort, and you my happy guest. Understood?"
"I understand. Have we docked yet?"
"Say, 'I understand, sir.'"
"I'm sorry, I understand, sir." Joanna says politely.
"And have we docked yet, Excellency?" she asks brightly.
"Good girl. Yes, Joanna, we have docked. Let us walk up together."
And then she finds herself led up onto the deck. Here, she can see just how formidable her capture ship is. A sleek trimaran, the glass-like dome prominent, it has racks and racks of missile tubes, and gun emplacements. There is damage, some of it considerable, to the superstructure however.
Before the ship loom massive cliffs, that are made to be fortresses. They literally bristle with emplacements ... only some of which look to be measured in calibres. The rest are obviously energy weapons.
It's not even that that catches her eye, however.
The island isn't filled with guns all the way through. She can see what appear to be ... fairground rides. Many fairground rides. http://raph.com/3dartists/artgallery/yan4.jpg
"Welcome to Disneyland's big brother, Jo. Who knows - maybe you'll even get to go on the ride, this time, rather than be it." He laughs at his own joke.
Joanna looks at him coldly. "You know...you had to imprison me and humiliate me by force to try to embarass my country. You are an embarassment to an otherwise great nation all on your own."
"Sir." she adds.
He looks around, but there are too many people on the docks. "Tonight, I'll get you for that," he whispers. But he puts his arm around her, and laughs loudly.
"Quaint. Very quaint. Now, let's go to the hotel, shall we?"
"I know you will, excellency." Joanna smiles, though her every instinct is to rip his arm off. "I would like that very much."
"To go to the hotel." she adds. "You will do what you like anyway."
"Oh yes. I'm thinking maybe we can find something a little more fun than a gun. What do you think, Jo? Ah look - over there. That's the Malevolent Eye. We named it after the Millenium Eye, but it's bigger. Not only is it the biggest ferris wheel in the world, you can theoretically spin it into the air and hurl it for over a hundred miles in any direction. Not that we've tried, obviously."
"It's lovely, I love ferris wheels." Joanna says wistfully. "Do you have children, Excellency?" She cannot help but find an uplifting thought, of Aurora and herself. How all the walls of Imperial Dignity come down with her youngest daughter, always have, enjoying her curiousity, her wondering at the world.
"Ah, no. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs doesn't allow diplomats to marry."
"That's actually wise." Joanna says. "I myself prefer to see unmarried diplomats. When was the last time you went on a ride?"
Joanna is fascinated to see herself. It is as though some inner strength of will holds her like a puppet--when she knows she wants to scream, rage or just collapse. She could shake to pieces with the overwhelming awfulness of her situation...but somehow she is able to do this.
"If you mean a mechanical one, many years." He sounds almost wistful himself.
"Well, if we are taking the tour, we must try it. Which was your favourite?"
"Oh, rollercoaster. We have a good one, here. Shall we try it?"
"That would be lovely." Joanna says.
This ride seems to plunge straight into the ground. "The Abyss" is the titular name of this ride. There is one attendant there. He nods politely as he sees the ambassador and his charge approach. The cars for this are odd, glassy bubbles.
Etienne gets in, she follows suit. "Strap up tight now, this is a long ride," he murmurs, following his own advice.
It goes down, into the earth, at shocking speeds. Fluorescent patches shine and show just how fast, and how deep, they are descending. She feels like this is at least a force of four Gs, possibly more. Down into the terraformed core of the island, far below the ground.
"This is very exotic." Joanna says thoughtfully.
Literally pressed back into her seat, she can hear the soft hum of electromagnetics - this is more like a MagLev train than a conventional one.
Joanna, for the first time in days, is thrilled, and lets herself enjoy it. In the faint murky light, she can see that they're deep under the sea, and the ride slows somewhat. Travelling through a clear tube, lazy deep sea creatures drift past. The bottom of the ride's floor is transparent, too, and emplaced deep lamps shine out into the depths.
They're very high, here. Underwater, suspended over a deep sea trench - she can see the sea bed, just haloed in the distance, but not below them. And they go down, further down. Odd things that never have and never will greet the dawn swim or float or drift past, gaping maws and alien eyes staring at the fragile-seeming capsule.
Then it accelerates, going faster.
Joanna shivvers a little, but is awestruck.
They fall down into the darker depths, until they are so deep that only the glow of the lights built here and there into the capsule itself can be seen, a tiny muted glow.
Occasionally something massive brushes by - a fin, or a tentacle, that dwarf the two fragile people. Some part of a creature that could - should it so choose - crush their little world in an instant, consigning them to a watery grave. But gone, so fast.
Joanna says nothing; she is caught up in the terror and wonder of it all. At last, it seems to reach its end - a ledge, deep down. From below ... nothing. A pitch, impenetrable darkness.
Above, the slender tubing of the ride stretches back up like a prayer to Heaven. Then, deep below, a light. A light with a dark spot, that rapidly fades in and out of sight. It appears to be getting closer ... attracted, perhaps, to its twin in the side of the ride.
Joanna whispers, "What's that?"
Closer still, and closer. It is huge, and seems almost close enough to touch, when the capsule turns a u-bend and rockets forwards, up and along the abyss wall.
Etienne looks quite scared himself. "I ... I am not sure, it wasn't mentioned in the briefing."
The light ... or the eye,... is quickly lost to sight. They rise back up, getting faster and faster and faster. Fish pass by as blurs of colour.
Just as it becomes difficult to breathe, they rise up out of the ground, and shoot into the air in the middle of a tube formed by three ferrous bars, sickeningly fast and high. Thinking back, Jo can remember seeing something like this earlier, although paying it no attention.
She is exhilerated still,and shrieks enthusiastically.
Then it slows at the peak, and stops. She can look down from almost a kilometre above the ground at the island.
She can see numerous other rides ... but her military eye has no difficulty in discerning the defences.
Around the coast of the island, just off it, are what appear to be oilrigs - she thinks she can make out guns on them, however. And they have no drills for oil, but what appear to be huge pumps.
She notes that for later--the information is barely useful right now.
"What are those?" Joanna points them out.
There are huge sensor arrays at key points, a military installation split into three in the middle, two adjacent ziggurats that look most threatning just south of them, and a large residential complex on the east side of the island.
"They're underwater research platforms. Particularly into ... aquatic seismic events.” Says Etienne.
A modern-looking cathedral structure can be seen at the northern arm of the island. There are lots of hills on it, also, and some wooded parkland.
It truly is a bizarre combination of military base and Disneyland.
"What a strange place." Joanna muses. She turns to him, smiling. "Was that fun? I had fun." Seismic research? And I’m the Queen of Raem.
"Oh, me too. Me too." He smiles back, as they start to descend back to the earth.
Joanna finds oddly that waiting in her hotel room is the worst kind of torment, but he seems to have forgotten about her ‘punishment’. But she doesn’t get much sleep.
The next day, the opening ceremony is held at dawn.
Joanna wakes up in a nice, soft comfortable bed with bed clothes to find her garments for the day laid out for her.
She prays when she gets up.
They are as threatened - she'll look wonderful from the front, but naked from behind. A snide little extra touch, stockings and suspenders and high heels. Well, she feels a lot better when praying. Strong enough to face this final hurdle to her dignity, certainly. Joanna puts the clothing on, feeling the bite of humiliation once more. Worst of all; she can't forget the half nakedness. The strange play of air in contrast to her clothed front won't let her.
Fortunately, there is also a drape - presumably to get her to wherever they're making the broadcast in decency. Joanna puts that on with relief. At least no nasty looks from sailors today.
And then, she is escorted from her room by a soldier. The speech takes place in a large stadium (south-east of the island).
There are a lot of camera crews - not all of them from Whispering Voices, by the looks of it. The massive stand from which the opening inaugural speech will be made is backed by a wall.
Joanna takes a deep breath. 'Courage Joanna.'
Etienne gives her a wide, camera-perfect smile as she steps up and faces to turn the crowds.
He graciously takes her drape, and hangs it over one arm. To the world she is Joanna of Lavenrunz, to the stoic bodyguards behind ... she's far more earthy than that. A light breeze distinctly reminds her.
As she is being led up she says quietly to the soldier, "This man's deeds--done at whoever's orders--do not reflect my feelings about your country. I admire your people for their courage."
The soldier seems to nod, but it's very hard to tell.
Joanna gives Etienne a gracious smile.
She closes her eyes for a moment as she is given her introduction.
http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=73922&start=0
Seeming to give the image of great friendship to the world, Etienne puts his arm around Joanna for the speech. Only she will feel it work its way down, humiliatingly touching her and probing her during the speech itself - like so many things, sordidness hidden behind a veneer of respectability.
The speech finally ends, and Etienne's hateful prying, rubbing fingers leave her as he - the seeming perfect gentleman - drapes her coat back around her shoulders.
Joanna is nearly ready to scream or weep. In fact she shudders and moves away from him.
Etienne is about to talk to her, when she notices something ... odd. The red in his eyes fade away, leaving them a normal brown colour. As she looks around, she can see the same effect being repeated in every Whispering Voice soldier nearby ... eyes fading back to their normal colours, as if something is ... departing.
He tenses, looks around. A soldier, the one who escorted Joanna to the stadium, and one of the original two guards, are walking towards them. Between the two is an armoured figure ... a sunset sky moulded in relief on golden androgynous plates, a full-helmeted head.
They walk up steps to the dais, and onto it, as the happy crowd and cameramen start to explore the island, leaving the debris of a conference - forgotton polaroids, and drinks cans - on the ground.
The ambassador practically bristles, but makes a visible effort to smoothe down his emotions.
"Good day, Inquisitor," he mutters - his voice sounds light, but false. His eyes look daggers at one of the soldiers.
Joanna waits warily for this new strangeness.
When the inquisitor speaks, it is impossible to tell their gender - the voice is synthesised totally, and could be of either gender.
"I have come to take confession from the Empress, Ambassador De Savoir. I have been informed that during her trip, she was not given the chance to make one."
His arm around Joanna gives a warning squeeze, threatning her if she speaks up. "Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary, Inquisitor. She's not of the same denomination as us."
Joanna feels her knees weaken. But she says quietly, "I confessed before I left Lavenrunz, Inquisitor. Is there some need to do it now?"
"Confessions are weekly, in Whispering Voices."
One of the soldiers attempts to catch Joanna's eye - the one she spoke to as she stepped up the podium. His gaze is ... encouraging.
Taking courage from that, Joanna says "I would like to make my confession, yes. And may I take the Eucharist after please?"
"Certainly," replies the artificial voice of the Inquisitor. Etienne gets more tense, if anything, and catches Jo's eye and glares murderously at her before disengaging his arm.
"This is most irregular, Inquisitor," he starts.
"The Ordo Sancti Mundi holds direct sway unless in an area directly administered by one of the Ministries, Ambassador. This area is administered by the Ministry of Defence, not the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."
The armoured figure extends a hand to Joanna. "Empress, you will come with me."
Joanna holds her drapery carefully and follows. "Inquisitor." she says graciously. Though she is also intimidated by this automaton, its presence is welcome after her shuddersome time with Etienne de Savoir.
She is led to a sort of high-speed maglev road, one of the soldiers in tow, and driven to the modern cathedral. There, she is led into a confessional, and sat down. The Inquisitor enters the other box. The rest of the cathedral is empty.
Joanna takes a deep breath. "Bless me, Father. I've sinned. It has been a week and two days since my last confession."
"Go on, my child." The voice now is not artificial. It's female.
"I...I am a liar. I have lied on two important counts. I lied to the ambassador about Bridgette Iesus." Joanna sniffles and says, feeling a little relieved, "And I realize it was for the good of my country, but it hurt her...she did consumate the marriage. I felt that alliance with Iesus Christi wasn't even vaguely possible, since they refused to listen to reason on anything."
Joanna sighs. "So I forced an annulment."
"And I lied today. I did not come here of my own free will. I was kidnapped."
"And do you feel repentant, my child? Are you willing to do penance?"
"I am repentant, and willing to do penance." Joanna says quietly.
"Then I set you a penance of five Hail Marys for the first lie, and one Hail Mary for the second. Are there other sins you wish to confess?"
"Yes, Inquisitor. The sin of wrath. I held a man in judgement and anger above the need towards an enemy."
"And do you repent of this sin, and wish to do penance?"
It almost choked her to say it, but she knew too well, thinking of her father’s face, of the price of hate. "Yes, I do."
"Then I set you a penance of ten "Our Fathers"
"Have you aught else to confess?"
"That is all, Inquisitor." Joanna says sadly. If only…and then a ray of hope comes to her. "No...there's more." Joanna starts to cry. She finds that here...she feels defenseless and cannot stop for a bit.
"Do not worry, my child. The Lord accepts his strayed flock with open arms." The voice is reassuring, and soft, and encouraging. And concerned, in a way Etienne's most coaxing voice was not.
"What else have you done?"
"I...I was made to--no, that's not right. I was ordered to degrade myself by...by using a gun barrel to stimulate myself. To avoid other things happening. I did it...I couldn't take anymore." Joanna weeps bitterly. "I'm so sorry."
"You were forced to masturbate, but it was under duress?"
"Yes." Joanna says. "It was that or submit to multiple rape.” Her voice is heavy with bitterness.
"I see. One Hail Mary in penance, my child. Have you aught else to confess?"
"I displayed myself lewdly to men several times. Under duress." Joanna says, choking.
The Inquisitor's voice sounds a little more harsh, now. "What was the duress?"
"I was told as well that I would be raped if I did not. Till I was injured." Joanna says, wiping at her tears.
There is silence. "And you repent of your sin?"
"Yes." Joanna says. She actually does feel better. If a trifle empty within.
"Are there any other sins, child?"
"No, Inquisitor." says Joanna. "I'm truly repentant for those I've committed."
"Then I set you one more Hail Mary, for the lewdness. God Bless."
There are sound of footsteps leaving the confessional booth.
"Thank you, Inquisitor. God be with you also." Joanna crosses herself, waits a moment till she is collected, and leaves the booth.
The Inquisitor, masked again, leads her to the altar, where she is offered the bread and wine of Communion.
Take and eat, this is my body. For Joanna it truly is communion; she feels a restoration of strength and inner peace.
The Inquisitor then indicates that she is to follow her out of the nave of the cathedral, and into a small vestry.
There, she takes her helmet off. She's young, very young. Pretty, in a quiet way - a little pale, a little thin; she's not beautiful, like Jo.
She has auburn hair, and grey eyes, and they're filled with sympathy. She opens her arms, as if offering Joanna a hug.
Joanna flinches for a moment, startled and wary suddenly...but then goes up to her cautiously.The woman puts her arms round Joanna, and does just give her a hug. When she speaks, her voice is as soft as in the confessional.
"I cannot act on confessions given, Joanna ... but I can act on pleas given outside it," she finishes, letting Joanna weep if she wishes.
Joanna says, "I feel so ashamed. But I can't give up. I can't. I must find some way to get back home. And he..." Joanna puts her face in her hands. "He has tapes of me, I think. Doing those things." she almost screams into her hands but manages to control herself.
"You mean Ambassador De Savoir?"
"Yes." Joanna says, her voice suddenly shaking.
"Ssssh, now." She releases Joanna from her hug. "He'll be asking for direct assistance from his superiors now. They're unlikely to grant it, so he'll go to other sources. That gives us a little time." She reaches out, and puts a finger gently to Joanna's lips, and looks as if she's thinking.
Joanna bows her head and waits.
"I know he is planning to give you back to Lavenrunz. Until I arrived here I did not know of this mission, and if I did not know that means that it is likely most of those outside his service line did not know. Which means he will need to present them with a "fait accomplis", to make it more effort than it is worth to punish him."
"I shall speak to the ship's chaplain. You shall stay here. No-one will hurt you here."
"Thank you." whispers Joanna. She takes the woman's hand and kisses it.

ALTIMIT Broadcaster
Encryption: Maximum
Broadcast type: Classified
To: General Hans Schlabel, Lavenrunz
Return transmission band: Open
IDENT: Tiffany Celta, Secretary of Defense, Reploid Productions
ATTACHMENT: oceansurvey.lzh (encrypted)

Greetings. This is Tiffany Celta, Secretary of Defense of the Immortal Shogunate of Reploid Productons. When we learned through our allies and intelligence reports of what had happened to your Empress, Queen Firefury ordered we deploy several of our Tsubasa recon drones to track the Whispering Voices ships Zophael and Uriel. Encoded tracking systems were integrated into the ship's hardware and software. Even if the buyer was aware of them, they would not be able to remove them without putting the ship in drydock and then replacing substantial portions of the ship's systems- something that could not be done in as short a time as there was between the purchase of the ships from RPRA Techcorp and when the Empress first went missing. Our Tsubasas have locked down the locations of both ships and are also doing routine high altitude sensor sweeps as part of a 'scientific survey' of the oceans. The drones are basically gliders- they glide over the target area, glide away from it once their altitude drops to a certain point, and one well out of range, fire their engines to climb back to their flight ceiling of 80,000 feet.

Enclosed with this transmission are the most recent images from the drones, as well as a passcode to access the transmissions as they come in. In the event of the situation escalates into hostilities, the Queen has ordered the Tengai fleet to go to alert status, and has temporarily attached the ships that will be part of the Amatsu fleet to the first fleet.

Best of luck,
~Tiffany Celta
~Secretary of Defense
~Immortal Shogunate of Reploid Productions

<End transmission>

OOC:

Actually, hate to reign in on the parade (and *smack* for Resi-corp style assumptions that people spending hundreds of millions don't go over the ship for this sort of thing), the Zophael has been under a communications jam since the first attack on it. No transponder signals escaping.

OOC:

Actually, hate to reign in on the parade (and *smack* for Resi-corp style assumptions that people spending hundreds of millions don't go over the ship for this sort of thing), the Zophael has been under a communications jam since the first attack on it. No transponder signals escaping.

((OOC: You don't think the Zophael's location would have been given to my guys via my allies to... ah... facilitate locating and tracking it? Couple of guys I'm pretty close with diplomatically were involved in the failed rescue attempt after all, and they'd have to know where the ship was to make that attempt. :wink: And would you want to spend a ton o' time and money to all but gut the ship to get rid of a transponder when all y'gotta do is comm jam it? In any case, point taken, though I imagine the Uriel isn't really all that involved in things, so tracking her's more likely to be a gigantic waste of time 8) ))

OOC:

They found out by simply using satellites to spot it after a [/smack Tarrican] tipoff. And yes - it's being comm jammed :P

~ Secure Transmission to SATO nations ~

Recent evidence, to be forwarded to heads of intelligence and state only: pertaining to the abduction of Empress Joanna von Sachshausen.
Please respond if you have any information.

- Claudia der Waal, Chancellor
~ End Transmission ~

OOC/IC: :shock:

IC:

--Secure transmission, MAXIMUM encryption--

From: Benedict Michael Sukothai
To: All relevant SATO officials

You have the full cooperation of the Republic of Syskeyia on this matter.

God bless,

Benedict Michael Sukothai
President and First Consul of the Republic of Syskeyia

OOC: Just read one of Lavenrunz's last posts. Nice confessional scene, but women can't be priests (http://www.ewtn.com/library/PAPALDOC/JP2ORDIN.HTM). The confession would be invalid.

God bless,

The Republic of Syskeyia

OOC:

The woman was not a priest, rather an inquisitor of a knightly order that works for the priesthood - with all the trappings of a priest save the name.

Also, the passages of the Bible quoted there in no way says that women should not be priests. A quick browse through Luke or Matthew (Luke 10, I believe, somewhere near the end) shows women being taught to teach by Jesus.

It can also be noted Isiah 59 references "children" rather than "sons" (as sons would be customary for referring only to male children) being able to hear confessions. Timothy refers to confessions being taken in front of many people. If you can make a valid confession in front of anyone, you can make it in front of a female crusader type.

So ... for the IRL Roman Catholic church, no women priests. To be a Catholic (as in, general or universal) church based closely on the Bible does not necessarily result in being the Roman Catholic Church.

Ahem. Grrr. Must stop posting OOC.

OOC:

OOC:

The woman was not a priest, rather an inquisitor of a knightly order that works for the priesthood - with all the trappings of a priest save the name.

She lacks the sacramental faculties for giving Joanna absolution, as she has not, and cannot be, ordained a priest.

Also, the passages of the Bible quoted there in no way says that women should not be priests. A quick browse through Luke or Matthew (Luke 10, I believe, somewhere near the end) shows women being taught to teach by Jesus.

Teaching is one thing. Sacramental administration is another.

It can also be noted Isiah 59 references "children" rather than "sons" (as sons would be customary for referring only to male children) being able to hear confessions.

I read Isaiah 59, and it only refers to children at the end, but not in the context of confessing sins.

Also, Isaiah was written before Christ instituted the Sacrament of Penance.

Timothy refers to confessions being taken in front of many people. If you can make a valid confession in front of anyone, you can make it in front of a female crusader type.

The confession mentioned in Timothy is a confession of faith, not a confession of sins. (Likewise, if you look in an old book of saints it lists many people as "confessors"- they did not hear confessions but rather "confessed" the Catholic faith with their lives.)

So your argument that anyone can hear a confession is wrong. The "female crusader type" could not give valid absolution to Joanna.

So ... for the IRL Roman Catholic church, no women priests. To be a Catholic (as in, general or universal) church based closely on the Bible does not necessarily result in being the Roman Catholic Church.

So Whispering Voices is a schismatic, heretical state, I take it?

I say, if you're going to RP Catholic, heed the teachings of the RL Roman Catholic Church, or say you're schismatic, but don't pretend to be Roman Catholic and have women priests, for example.

Ahem. Grrr. Must stop posting OOC.

Me too. I hope to send some special forces to help rescue Joanna, with a Catholic priest as a chaplain to give Joanna a real absolution. :D

God bless,

The Republic of Syskeyia

Etienne drifted through dark places, as his mind sought to regrasp consciousness and drag himself back ... but he slumped.

When he woke again, he was ... elsewhere. His neck hurt, he vaguely remembered a ...

jab, whilst I was asleep. What d ... my hands. Behind my back, can't move. What? What's going ...

He attempted to wrench his wrists apart, free of their bonds, but to no avail. Whatever was around them, it wasn't simple handcuffs. He could feel blood run down onto his fingers, slick and sticky, where even his brief exertions had opened wounds.

Then the blackness enveloped him again.


This time, he woke up in a room: not alone. He did not recognise Baron von Shein, but he could tell from the man's cold, cold eyes what he was. What he would do. The Lavenrunzian uniform, the chains around his wrists and ankles, they spoke as loud as words. He remembered his cousin, the governor of the island ...

"Good morning, Etienne." His voice was friendly, light. Unconcerned. The same voice Etienne himself had used before - the voice that promised an easy release, once you'd spilled out your soul. Etienne flexed, but to no avail. His augmented strength, enough to allow him to fold steel, was bound by something stronger.

"Good morning. Baron von Shein I presume?" Must try to keep control. It won't help, but I'll feel better.

The man nodded. "I have some questions, Etienne ... "

And so he did. And Etienne, like most bullies, was unable to stand up to his own methods. He sang songs to the Lavenrunzian questionners. Joanna came in, early in the interrogation - before he became too unpresentable, he guessed. Before the electric shocks had cooked enough of his skin to cause it to slough away, and before he haemorraghed from internal bleeding - not that they had actually hurt him, much: he just had his own previous explorations of torture to go on.

Even now, here, he hated her. He hadn't at the start: hadn't until she'd actually stood up to him - he wasn't used to that, couldn't deal with it. And she'd hit him, shown him up, shown she was stronger in front of his crew, his soldiers. He'd heard the scornful remarks, seen the reproachful glares, been goaded by the subtle jibes of soldiers he didn't dare touch, just present with orders. Hated her, and wanted her. But breeding with foreigners was against all the ethos of his country - mixing with the inferior, with the weaker peoples of the earth. Such a deed, if done, would need to be concealed from everyone.

Even now, she was kinder and stronger. Generosity and mercy were not weapons of the weak, Etienne knew: they were luxuries of the strong. As she had proved she was, proved that even in the face of his worst threat and deed, she had values she would not sacrifice.

He looked up at her, awed and repulsed and envious and loathful. She had questions, too; she was too innocent to understand him, and his answers - when he could explain them himself, which was not often - seemed lost on her.

How can she be so vulnerable, and yet so damn tough? he raged to himself as he saw the tears form in her eyes. Such lovely tears ... like a child's.

"Do you feel remorse, Etienne? Anywhere in your heart for your deeds?"

He permitted himself hope, a lie was simple. But the random food patterns, the torture, the starvation had drained him. His "Yes" sounded as hollow to him as it did to her, it seemed. Probably my eyes ... can't stop staring at her ...

He was prepared for death. He didn't like pain, and he told everything he knew to delay it, but he knew death was inevitable. It was a constant companion to his people, waiting outside their doors with icy talons and remorseless hunger.

"Then you are sentenced to life imprisonment, confined in an oubliette. Your only contact shall be your jailor, who will bring you food and water but not talk with you. You will be permitted such freedom as can be found, there, and monitored lest you attempt to end your life." He felt confused, briefly. "Goodbye, Etienne." Her gaze - such as he saw through the tears that welled up in his eyes - was at least, in part, pitying.

Trapped. Trapped for so many years. No ... He was prepared for death, but not for life in a cage. Everything he knew was big - the arctic plains, the mountain valleys. The Zophael itself. And his lifespan, medically maintained and well fed, could well be another hundred and fifty years with the Methuselah genes and natural longevity his loving parents had given him.

He shrieked, as he saw her turn to leave. Screamed with rage and shrieked with fear, his hands clawing up and his body shaking with his attempt to break the bonds. She looked back, at the door - free, and stronger, and better. So much better. He could not help it, then. Not at all. He bit back his pathetic sobs, and whispered just loud enough for the departing Empress to hear:

"Enjoy the pregnancy."

-----------------

It was not long after that - in terms of time, if not in terms of pain - that he heard the sounds of raised voices, angry and frightened. Shein had gone, his torturer had gone. It was time for his body to rest, so it could suffer more in the morning.

The frightened voices receeded into the distance, and the angry ones got closer. He couldn't really turn his head - he only knew of this room what was in front of him. But he could hear the voices, harsh ones. He spoke Lavenrunzian, had learned it for the diplomatic engagement which had then turned into a refusal, the event that had sparked the entire thing - a bonfire already set, perhaps, but the open shun had been the flaming torch hurled into it.

A group of Imperial marines - he recognised the type, tough and overbearing, even in civvies - walked into view. He could see they had things, as well. An arc welder, a length of piping; a sanding lathe and a saw. One of them flexed his hand, like he'd had to hit someone to get in.

Suddenly, as they glared at him, the oubliette seemed like the easier option.

"Think you can take our Empress, ha?" one spat, a pretty woman disfigured by hate.

Somehow, his throat was just too try to answer.


OOC:

Damn you Syskeyia for forcing me to make an IC post, so I could continue the OOC discussion!

I wasn't claiming to be Roman Catholic. But ...
ahem ^_^

Women are recorded as holding the rank of 'Deacon' til the ninth century - a fully ordained position within the Roman Catholic Church. In addition, Paul refers to women as equals, and to quote one theologian:

"The Pauline literature and Acts still allow us to recognize that women were among the most prominent missionaries and leaders in the early Christian movement, They were apostles and ministers like Paul, and some were his co-workers. They were teachers, preachers and competitors in the race for the gospel."

The main argument of Vatican doctrine for the reason that women aren't priests is - ultimately - that Jesus chose no apostles that were female. Of course, if this is to be the guide, then all priests would need to be:
bearded,
dark skinned,
Aramaic speaking,
married,
male,
Jewish,
residents of Palestine,
without much formal education and
the parent of one or more children - factors that were in common throughout the Disciples (a few exceptions to each one).

So, in summary: Whispering Voices is Catholic. Whispering Voices is not Roman Catholic. In many ways, it holds stronger to the original precepts of the Christian church of around 1st century AD (which is when most of the archaeological evidence, religious writings that were not included in the Bible etc date from) than the Roman Catholic church. In that manner, at least, whilst Syskeyia may say the confessions are invalid, Whispering Voices can point out that they were in fact treated as valid until just over a thousand years ago, where political and social climates changed (the 'Dark Ages').

Uberbrief summary: Schismatic? Yes. Schismatic on arguable grounds? Definitely ;)

In fact, to explain my country better, read this thread!
THREAD TO READ! <Self advertisement is the win!> (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=1711104#1711104)

((OOC: Blarg. Can't login to my nation, but I can get into the forums. How's that work? Anyways, no place for an IC post from me, but words cannot begin to describe the sheer amount of evil glee at that post about Etienne getting what he had coming to him ^_^ After I sat and thought about it more, his whole kidnapping thing started to stink of something not representing his government. Kudos on a great storyline, even if it made me (and likely others) have to bite their tongues to not go into a rightous rant OOCly :wink:

~Rep))

Cheers were heard in the Atlantic Fleet as the Empress finally touched down on Carrier Bretwalda, borne by a Diablo_NL transport. Her hand was raised in salute; though pale and a bit distracted looking, she was well.
Approaching, with a group of admirals and dignitaries, was the slight form of Aurora.
Tears filled Joanna's eyes, but she stood straight and walked up to her daughter as though it was a day in the park.
"I'm sorry, Mama." said Aurora softly. "I didn't mean to run away--I just wanted to show how the plane worked."
"Very brave--though impetuous." said Joanna. Though her voice was stern, her eyes were warm, and Aurora looked at her hopefully.
"Oh, my darling," whispered Joanna, "The important thing, the only thing that matters is that you are safe."
Aurora threw herself into her arms then. "Mama, may we go home, please?"
Joanna nodded, feeling that at this moment there was enough good in the world to redeem all that she had been through ten times over. "Yes, liebchen, I think we can."

]After I sat and thought about it more, his whole kidnapping thing started to stink of something not representing his government.

*Nod* As the uberadvertised THREAD (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=1711104#1711104) will hopefully show.


]Kudos on a great storyline, even if it made me (and likely others) have to bite their tongues to not go into a rightous rant OOCly :wink:

~Rep))

I can honestly say it didn't go where I saw it as going. I did not know how stubborn Joanna was. Ahem. It was interesting to see how she reacted to things though.

And bite thy tongue! I checked constantly OOCly with her to ensure no lines were being crossed, and I left it entirely up to her what she posted.

I'm a good boy. ^_-

*still thinks poor etienne needs to be saved*

I really like(d) that guy... such a tragedy...

*cough*

Hey, he *could* still be alive. Noone ever posted the life fading from his eyes and the blood spilling from his wrists. Experience has taught me that you shouldn't consider anyone in fiction dead until their head is seperated from their body, and even *then* you can't be sure.

OOC:

Damn you Syskeyia for forcing me to make an IC post, so I could continue the OOC discussion!

I wasn't claiming to be Roman Catholic. But ...
ahem ^_^

Women are recorded as holding the rank of 'Deacon' til the ninth century - a fully ordained position within the Roman Catholic Church. In addition, Paul refers to women as equals, and to quote one theologian:

"The Pauline literature and Acts still allow us to recognize that women were among the most prominent missionaries and leaders in the early Christian movement, They were apostles and ministers like Paul, and some were his co-workers. They were teachers, preachers and competitors in the race for the gospel."
:p (http://www.petersnet.net/research/retrieve.cfm?recnum=3439)

Similarly, it has been suggested that the rules or ordinances of St. Paul about women speaking in churches should be treated as a custom, just like St. Paul's statements saying that women should have their heads covered when praying in churches (1 Cor. 11:2-6). But the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith distinguished between these two Pauline ordinances for women when it explained St. Paul's rule for women to cover their heads:


But it must be noted that these ordinances, probably inspired by the customs of the period, concern scarcely more than disciplinary practices of minor importance, such as the obligation imposed upon women to wear a veil on the head (1 Cor. 11:2-6); such requirements no longer have a normative value. However, the Apostle's forbidding of women "to speak" in the assemblies (cf. 1 Cor 14:34-35; 1 Tim 2:12) is of a different nature, and exegetes define its meaning in this way: Paul in no way opposes the right, which he elsewhere recognizes as possessed by women, to prophesy in the assembly (cf. 1 Cor 11:5); the prohibition solely concerns the official function of teaching in the Christian assembly. For Saint Paul this prescription is bound up with the divine plan of creation (cf. 1 Cor 11:7; Gen 2:18-24); it would be difficult to see in it the expression of a cultural fact.30


Thus, when St. Paul speaks about the wearing of a "veil," he refers to it as a "sign" in the context of a "custom" within a culture (1 Cor. 11:10 & 16). Exegetes have stated that "Paul's argument is based on his view of nature and propriety, i.e., the custom of the earliest Christian communities."31 He even lets the Corinthians decide the issue: "I will let you judge for yourselves. Is it proper for a woman to pray to God unveiled?" (1 Cor. 11:13). So, while a woman should wear a veil, the issue may not be a serious matter in every culture.

The main argument of Vatican doctrine for the reason that women aren't priests is - ultimately - that Jesus chose no apostles that were female. Of course, if this is to be the guide, then all priests would need to be:
bearded,
dark skinned,
Aramaic speaking,
married,
male,
Jewish,
residents of Palestine,
without much formal education and
the parent of one or more children - factors that were in common throughout the Disciples (a few exceptions to each one).

Facial hair, skin color, language, marital status, ethnicity, locality, and children are unessential attributes of what a person is. Gender is essential, especially since there is a union between body and soul, which inhibits a women from being ordianed. And no, a women cannot go through a "sex-change" operation and then, as a "man," be validly ordained

So, in summary: Whispering Voices is Catholic. Whispering Voices is not Roman Catholic. In many ways, it holds stronger to the original precepts of the Christian church of around 1st century AD (which is when most of the archaeological evidence, religious writings that were not included in the Bible etc date from) than the Roman Catholic church. In that manner, at least, whilst Syskeyia may say the confessions are invalid, Whispering Voices can point out that they were in fact treated as valid until just over a thousand years ago, where political and social climates changed (the 'Dark Ages').

Until about a thusand years ago, a confession was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, made in public before a bishop, and involved very heavy penance. Thank God for those Irish monks and their private, frequent confessions. :D

Uberbrief summary: Schismatic? Yes. Schismatic on arguable grounds? Definitely ;)

Prepare to be vanquished, you vile sower of shism and infidelity!
http://www.op.org/international/assets/images/dominique/inquisition.jpg
:D :P

Anyway, nice to see Joanna's rescued now.

God bless,

The Republic of Syskeyia

:p (http://www.petersnet.net/research/retrieve.cfm?recnum=3439)

Ahem. Yes. This would be the argument based on Timothy 1, the book proved to have been written after St Paul by a period of 200 years - held by actual scientists and historians to be a fake? ^_^

Facial hair, skin color, language, marital status, ethnicity, locality, and children are unessential attributes of what a person is. Gender is essential, especially since there is a union between body and soul, which inhibits a women from being ordianed. And no, a women cannot go through a "sex-change" operation and then, as a "man," be validly ordained.

I'd say that ethnicity and religion were exceedingly important things. God - especially in the Old Testament - targetted races. The Egyptians, the Israelites - people are grouped by ethnicity and religion throughout the whole of the Bible. To say that ethnicity is an unessential attribute of a person is ... foolish. Try telling that to the first-born of Egypt.


Until about a thusand years ago, a confession was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, made in public before a bishop, and involved very heavy penance. Thank God for those Irish monks and their private, frequent confessions. :D

But ... that is not the case. Especially if you consider the use of indulgences and confessions related to them. Indulgences I should point out that had the full authority of Rome behind them - although the problem got worse about four centuries later, admittedly.

You die! ^_^

OOC: Can we maybe have a debate about Catholic Theology somewhere else? And by the way, Syskeyia, you have done a great job of making it clear why I'm a protestant.

OOC: Can we maybe have a debate about Catholic Theology somewhere else? And by the way, Syskeyia, you have done a great job of making it clear why I'm a protestant.

OOC: :cry:

God bless,

The Republic of Syskeyia

OOC: Awwwww! *hugs Syskeyia* All I meant is that I like the freedom of protestantism. I like my Catholic friends very much.

OOC: Sorry, couln't help but use this jewel... to the tune of the internationale.

A Humanist Internationale

Arise ye victims of delusion
Arise ye people of the earth
Discard unfounded superstition
'tis a better world in birth

Now people, let us rally
It a great fight that we face
We must destroy religion
To save the human race.

OOC:

WV - you're sick.

You have some genious, but you're freakingly sick! :twisted: :twisted:

Aren't we all after all? :wink:

OOC Tarasovka... yes he is. Didn't you know that? :wink:

IC
Jasmine paces in her 'guest' quarters... nobody is telling her how things have been progressing and she is under orders not to contact her superiors for information, either.

A rather tense time for her.

OOC:
OOC: Sorry, couln't help but use this jewel... to the tune of the internationale.

A Humanist Internationale

<stupid song>

And I post this link (http://www.newoxfordreview.org/1998-99/jan99/jagray.html) in response. :P

Also, in the SATO thread Knootoss said this was still going on. The Empress is rescued? What still must be done. Need a Syskeyian specops team for anything? ;)

God bless,

The Republic of Syskeyia

OOC Tarasovka... yes he is. Didn't you know that? :wink:

IC
Jasmine paces in her 'guest' quarters... nobody is telling her how things have been progressing and she is under orders not to contact her superiors for information, either.

A rather tense time for her.

Jasmine eventually is summoned to see the Chancellor again. The woman stands and extends her hand. "Your information was of the greatest use to us. We are very grateful, and hope that this will mean friendship in future between our nations." However, she seems to be more weary than exhultant...

At the Autumn Palace in Lavenrunz

Empress Joanna sat by the bedside of her Consort of twenty six years, Archduke Tristan, and stared at the drawn and waxy thing he had become. Miracle cures had been offered, but short of actually meddling with his very life processes--anathema to such a devout man--nothing could be done. The strain of cancer that gnawed at him would not stay still, not stick to a particular gland or organ but went wherever the blood flowed, wracking his body with agony.
Stifled sobs and sniffs could be heard.
Joanna wondered if the people of Whispering Voices really would have been able to cure him. She felt something die in her, something cave in at the realization that her pride would not let her bend in such a thing. She took one of his hands, lifeless and lessened, and lifted it to her lips.
Forgive me.
She remembered, vaguely, some verse she'd memorized in her youth.
And death shall have no dominion...
And yet I hear his wings flapping in the halls. I see my crown, in reality, on his boney head.
Archduke Tristan of Lavenrunz is dead. And yet, outside the wind plays in the daffodils and the grass grows. The Empress of Lavenrunz rose and walked briskly from the room. The guards were startled by an odd small cry they heard as she passed.

Jasmine shakes hands with the Chancellor... the picks up the weary vibe and suspects than not everything has gone right.

"I'm glad we got it here in time to be some good. My government will be glad to accept your friendship and I'm sure a envoy will be here shortly to try and work genuine diplomacy between are peoples. If thats acceptable, that is... I could understand that you might want time to deal with things here."

At the Autumn Palace in Lavenrunz

Empress Joanna sat by the bedside of her Consort of twenty six years, Archduke Tristan, and stared at the drawn and waxy thing he had become. Miracle cures had been offered, but short of actually meddling with his very life processes--anathema to such a devout man--nothing could be done. The strain of cancer that gnawed at him would not stay still, not stick to a particular gland or organ but went wherever the blood flowed, wracking his body with agony.
Stifled sobs and sniffs could be heard.
Joanna wondered if the people of Whispering Voices really would have been able to cure him. She felt something die in her, something cave in at the realization that her pride would not let her bend in such a thing. She took one of his hands, lifeless and lessened, and lifted it to her lips.
Forgive me.
She remembered, vaguely, some verse she'd memorized in her youth.
And death shall have no dominion...
And yet I hear his wings flapping in the halls. I see my crown, in reality, on his boney head.
Archduke Tristan of Lavenrunz is dead. And yet, outside the wind plays in the daffodils and the grass grows. The Empress of Lavenrunz rose and walked briskly from the room. The guards were startled by an odd small cry they heard as she passed.

:cry:

God bless,

The Republic of Syskeyia