NationStates Jolt Archive

The camera within the plane shakes and teeters a bit as it attempts to keep focus on the man wearing a light brown suit of linen under a similar texture and color cloak. As the man heads off the ship and to the metal steps leading to the crowd of people that are waiting and cheering his arrival. His sun darkened skin and short beard give way to show a wide smile of appreciation to the peasant well wishers that stand at the bottom of the platform. He stands there to happily great the people when he starts down the steps slowly, and what appears to be, a egocentric drawing in of the admiration for his own amusement.

"Thank you, thank you all for your patience! I am glad to see that you all stood..."

The camera goes blank and static fills the screen for a brief moment to enunciate the point.

The image breaks to a polished wooden desk with an anchor behind it. At the top right, a small feint DLE logo of the news corporation glows white with the new nation flag of the Dhulus Empire detailed behind it. At the bottom of the screen a ticker resumes listing stock prices and just below that, a second ticker relays news events of various unimportant events that occurred in the local community, "And that is the last footage of the twin brother to our Empress Laur Kaeil, as he was killed by a thermal blast from an unknown person in the crowd surrounding his recant arrival at Herat International some 4 hours ago." The news reporter, a primed, tanned, dark-haired, and young anchor of 26 remarks coldly. She pulls back a thread of straight hair from her face.

"The official statement from the Empress officials followed 1 hour later in a briefing on the steps of the on-site Palace Temple where the Empress was in meditation at the time of the incident..." She pauses to read verbatim from an out of view screen in front of her. "The loss of her brother was a terrible tragedy, but his exploits that brought the ire of the orthodox caused his own fate."

The reporter looks up at the camera again with little sympathy and sincerity. "And that ended the life of the 42 year old accused traitor to the great Empress, Gil Kaeil. All 157 onlookers and 23 passengers of the flight were killed instantly in the blast that could be heard at what reports say for a mile out. There were 2 security guards that survived the blast and they are currently in the Holy Anna Hospital in critical condition." She pauses and shows some sense of warmth in her smile. " The great Empress Laur Kaeil has made specific mention to each of the families of those that were in harms way and will send notices of condolences to all of them."

Sheila Dvorsha's name appears below her briefly as she continues with the news cold faced once more. " This assassination came at an inopportune time said head of the Neo Coven, Kallen Sine, who was expecting the now deceased Gil Kaeil to make an appearance in support for his run for senate this coming election. He made specific proposals to ALO news sources not 1 hour ago by phone. He was asserting that a full investigation as to the actual killer would be brought forward. And the master of this assault on the citizens freedom would be found." She turns her head, and images of people on the street moving about with extra security in the public places replaces the head shot of Kallen Sine. A new camera adjusted to show her face only with the images of the local citizens on the right. " The reports from everyday people on the street are that of concern for other sympathetic factions still represented in the capit..."

The TV screen turns black with a click. (Just my way of saying hello to everyone out there. More to follow later.)

"And I now walk out here in the streets on a sunny hot day in the Svennish district of Herat." The 36 year old lanky reporter with dusty blond hair and equally unkempt linen clothing of white, walks along the street a few feet, then stops before a food vendor who has a stereo typical hot dog cart with hand written signs on green neon paper touting the low '1 Ein per dog summer blowout'. The report who's name 'Johnathan Adams - On-site reporter' appears below his centered image, in the top left corner a image of the nation animal the Opossum under the bright blue ALO logo. At he bottom tickers scroll the latest stock changes passing by almost too fast to read, and several news events crawl along underneath that. Mostly ball scores from the Saturday afternoons game, there are other notes of news about a breakthrough in the Senate passage of the 'Super-pass' to begin next month. The report turns to the Hot dog salesman who has a bit of a belly from eating too many of his own products. "Sir.... Tell me what you think about the Gil Kaeil incident not 2 days ago."

The large man wit a white clean shirt and wearing jean shorts attempts to look thoughtful about the topic then blurts out, "Eh hadden' Ih ah commin' ah tellyah. Themen' Conveh peepah ah nootin' but troubah for meh business ah tellyah. Ah noh be missin' thah crimnil Gil."

Johnathan turns a happy face to the screen and beams a joyful smile of agreement. "Much is the sentiment from the news of thursday. All people that have been asked for a statement have reasserted our polling that 90% of the populace agrees his death was a welcome return to peace and stability." He pauses for dramatization, "The Neo Coven has been struck a..."

The screen crackles and an image of blackness takes over the screen. The distortion of static increases then settles with a backdrop of color bars that roll downward to finally settle after 2 seconds. The bars dissolve to show a dark figure completely covered by an off-black hood over gray robes of linen. Behind you see metal doors and the feint glow of electronics. The voice speaks calmly and relaxed in a female voice, "Good afternoon Dhulusians, and all that implies. I have interrupted this propaganda to advise all God fearing people that still remember the tenants of our faith to stay within doors. The agents of the emancipation will soon stand equal with those of the Orthodox Cast. You have been warned." There is another pause of a few seconds, "Future Senator Kallen Sine's attempted assassination by the Gold Forces of our Empress," the Empress stated with disdain and contempt, " Will not go un responded to."

The screen crackles with static and Johnathan's lost face returns to the screen on the streets of Herat with a great loss for words. You see him mouth questions to the Camera man then the camera shakes a bit. Johnathan regains his composure. "The illegal hijacking of transmission you just saw is the culmination of the arr.."

Several burst shots are heard in the background and the reporter turns to see where they are coming from, "Over there!" He walks off camera and quickly it is pointed in the other direction showing a much less clean street with several run down vehicles parked by neighbor hood shops. You hear the screams of bystanders as the race into buildings and away from the commotion. The difference in the view of the street is unsettling and reminiscent of a cartoonish crossing of the tracks to the bad part of town. You see ALO employees with Tyvek jumpsuits of white holding cleaning equipment, huddled behind the News station Logo'd white Van trying to stay out of the line of sight. Just beyond the truck and walking the streets you see two men taking their time walking to a open location across from the news van and maintaining calm. They are dressed in dark black robes with an off-black hood on, prepping military rifles that are hung around their shoulders.

Johnathan perks up "Get down! It's the Agents!" He passes by the cameraman and hides behind the van, huddled in the fetal position hurriedly dialing his now brandished phone. The cameraman seemingly frozen in his conscripted position of overseer, pans the area to see that it is just the two that are within his view. In the far distance shots can bee heard, and an explosion rocks the microphone. The door vans open and a third agent, this one surely a woman completely covered in black clothing gets out of the rear of the vehicle and brandishes a hand gun. Within the van you can now see clearly the fallen figure of the producer who was supposed to be running the report from the streets. The woman walks away from the van towards the 2 waiting men on the other side of the street. The two men are now noticeably pointing their weapons at station crew.

Suddenly they open fire with warning shots into the building that lays behind the ALO crew. The glass panes of the pawn shop shatter to millions of pieces, while stray shots bounce off the concrete exterior flying recklessly into objects and buildings within the block. The cameraman pans to the building to show the damage that they have caused. The two stop shooting and the clear voice of Johnathan can be heard, "Police?! Come quick! We are at the corner of 3rd and Whithikan! We are..." His voice is silenced as a single shot is heard. The phone blasts to tiny pieces and flies out of the hands of the cowering reporter. The camera man turns to see where the shot came from and notices that the three are now gone. He pan back to the crew, nervous and now getting the kick from the adrenaline. The camera man says shakily, "Wah anyone hurt? Y'all ok?" The report slumps the the concrete silent, a second passes.

The bright light of yellow flashes on the screen. The obnoxiously happy tune of George's Pizza sung by cartoon cherubs extoll happily, "Buy our Pizza! It's the best! We bless our bread! That why you can't stand the rest!!" Pizza's with various topping fly by the screen so fast an epileptic seizure feels imminent.

The news report rewinds back to the beginning and a green pause symbol appears at the bottom right hand side of the screen. The keyboard clicks several times then a folded letter with a wax seal is placed in front of the reviewer of the footage. The door closes softly in the background.

The royal police force official in full regalia sits behind his less then austere steel desk with matching comfortless chair. The stacks of papers and large monitor cover over all usable space but that of a small area, big enough for a regulation memo to be laid in front of him to read over. As the man of some age, with no facial hair nor any under his formal hat that hangs precariously, leans back to contemplate the contents from above, he shows less then a pleasant grimace for his new assignment. It unfolds slowly by his weathered hands, then reads as follows:

------------------------------------------------------------
Emissary Gregory Hilt
Policy and Law Department
2 Prince ave.
Suite 513
Ghesher 554689-2243

Ref: Recent revelations of separatist combatants

General Doe Shefeld
11th Keep
Herat 977556-1333

Attention General Shefeld;

Notable attention has been drawn by the separatists calling themselves the Agents of the Emancipation. Though our attempts to find possible links to Senate candidate Kallen Sine, and that of the religious faction of the Neo Coven are all but dead ends, there is no question that the recent actions of the Agents of the Emancipation and the 16 that now lay dead are all too coincidental. Your capture of one of the insurgents is most profound in that we will now be able to ascertain the leaders location and sever the head of the organization. Once completed the rest f the traitors will wither and die on the vine.

You are to allow the interrogation of the prisoner to obtain any information about this problem, by one of our elite PLD Associates. His presence will not be recorded, relayed, or questioned under any circumstances. You have your orders, once comprehended, return the document to the Associate and lead him to the cell where the captured traitor is located.

Your compliance is mandated, your silence implicit, there are many who are silent and sympathetic, and they have seen Kallen Sine as a focal point for their will. If you value your reputation, you will act beyond accommodating in this incident.

Signed,
Emissary Gregory Hilt
------------------------------------------------------------

General Shefeld holds the document into the air. A large and powerful man in gray clothes of linen takes the document carefully then stashes it away out of sight. " So we going now? What do I call you?" hesitantly questions the General.

The large man replies in a whispered gruff voice, "Yes, and Sir will do just fine." He reaches down and picks up an extremely large suitcase of polished aluminum and textured polymer plating off the fake tile floor.

"How long must I accommodate you? Do you need anything further?" Knowing that if he doesn't perform this to the letter he will soon find himself in prison and then scheduled for execution as a ring leader. He thinks back to all the foolish risqué behavior that got him this job, and his reputation. Then wonders if it really was worth it since he is so saddled by skeletons over the past 34 years that he can't act with any semblance of independence. Thoughts race of all the events in the past 15 days. 4 bombings of Orthodox sites, 13 murders of reporters and government operatives, 3 religious leaders found dead with suspicious suicide notes. Though what actual organization performed these acts still has his gut churning, but convenient evidence never concerns those who wish to make a political point. The hammer was raised and damned be those who were foolish enough to not watch their step.

The large man whispered back, "I will let you know when I need further assistance. I wish to begin."

The General slowly gets up from his chair with an exhausted grunt, then calmly walks to the door to lead his new employee to the cells in the basement.

The man at the wall of screens, diodes, wave monitors, electrical gadgets, buttons with only numbers written on them, buttons with algorithms, buttons with labels, with names, with symbols. The sight was focused on a 2 foot wide rack of mounted units, and a headset on the tiny counter in front was filling the secure room with noise and commotion of several unknown sources. The man reaches forward in his pressed white shirt and taps a few buttons, turns a couple knobs, raises and lowers a few slide bars in various places and the static dissipates He keeps his hand on a programed switch and toggles it back and forth. When in the middle, the headphones go silent. When pushed up you hear the deep breathing and laden breath of a second person. Unintelligible murmurs are subtle, but you can tell they are there. He then toggles the switch down and the brief blurts of militaristic voices break in and out with precision.

The man leans forward and pulls a small mic on the counter to him and presses the only button on it's base then whispers into the receiver, " Gold 4? Gold 4? position?"

The reply back is delayed and sounds as a forced whisper from a man under severe stress. " Gold 1 here. Gold 4 under radio silence. position 2-3 west corridor second door. Intelegence?"

"Code 4-3-5-12-A, repeat Code 4-3-5-12-A. Proceed"

The line stays silent for a moment. some noise in the background makes it out of the headphones, sounding like that of an ancient clockwork coming to life. The same voice comes back over the radio, " Gold 4 successful, proceeding, secure in 10. Over. "

"Silence for 10 Gold 1." The man reaches for the toggle button and pushes it upward. Heavy breathing and now pacing footsteps comes over the headset audibly. "Agent S, proceeding as expected, next pass needed in block 4-R do you have the information?."

There is a guttural growl coming through the headset. The footsteps stop, and you hear them slowly walk then stop once more. The sound of a metal clicking is heard and the heavy breathing gets faster, more agitated. The garbled voice of another person unwillingly on the broadcast can easily be heard spitting and calling out mournfully in the voice of a broken man, "No... no more... whatever you want..." There is a muffled thud in the background, soft and quiet, but disturbing none the less. The voice cries out in terror "AAAAHHH.... I WILL ANS.." the voice becomes muffled and unintelligible, with constant sniffles and snorts from the victim.

A second voice, quiet and gruff asks calmly, " After the door and through the old sewage tunnel... which panel?"

The first voice can be heard now as something is taken out of his mouth, first spiting and coughing, then promptly a metal click is heard in the background and the voice cries out loudly "AAAGHHHH.. THE FOURTH, THE FOURTH, It has... green sicker hiding... button!" He returns to weeping and there is a muffled noise as the first man is quieted once more.

The second voice is calm, "Tell me what lays beyond that. I don't want our men getting injured like you will if you don't comply." There is a couple of loud metal clicks and then the sound of a large quantity of some liquid splashing.

The first voice can be heard spitting and coughing, then immediately, with what sounds like a mouth full of toothpaste relays, "It's... It's a large room. Storage! Storage tanks of.. some fuel, or what used to be fuel... If they go past the rear door that has a small window they will be in the control room... It's what you want... My boss... He should be in there for the next meeting.... I am telling..." The voice becomes muffled and calms down.

The second voice sounds satisfied and talks to the man at the switch board, "You have your direction Mac."

The man at the controls immediately switches the toggle to the off setting and leans back thinking. He pulls a small leather wrapped flask out of a pocket and empties the contents into his mouth. Slowly leaning forward he adjust the settings on a self contained radio unit to his left and turns it on. The small 10 x 10 room is enveloped in the sounds of a ball game. The announcers call out advice and speculation as to the players next action, while a subtle cheering in the background of a stadium crowd ads the perfect white noise for the lackey to momentarily forget about his job description.

He raises up his watch and examines it to make some mathematical calculations. Time passes and the ten minutes seems like seconds to his weary face, the man then reaches over and turns off the ball game radio to get back to work. He reaches for the toggle and switches it down to listen to the Gold members. The Headset is silent, several moments pass and then a quick radio check rotates through all the team members. The man counts each of the 12 report calls, 13 in all are in position he determines. Number 13, the Field Med, never speaks during a mission, he only responds to direct orders.

The man pauses, selects a blank screen on his wall of technical madness and turns it on. He then reaches over to a control box to the right and flips a few switches, the newly operating screen comes to life with a green line mass of lines and squares organized into what looks to be a crude 3-D map. As he plays with several more knobs and buttons the map rotates and zooms into a closer view of what appears to be a hallway between a maze of rooms and passages. He reaches forward and flips a single switch. The map reveals 13 small triangles pointing in various directions, located in various parts of the hallway, with 3 still hanging back in the room behind. The man presses down on the mic button and speaks swiftly, "Gold 4. 12 forward. Right 9, left 3, look for the 4th panel with a green sticker covering an access button. Over?"

The static voice replies back, " Gold 4. Proceeding."

The man leaned back and watched as the tiny triangles moved skittishly thought the maze of green lines and squares. He rotated the screen to follow along their path, adjusting knobs and rotating slide bars. He reached for his flask and spent a few moments to drain the last drops, then put away the flask back into his pocket. 2 minutes passed and 5 of the triangles had huddled around a small square.

" Station. Gold 3. Clear? " The voice squawked.

The man pushed the button down, "Enter, 3 down, 20 o' 30. Right 19, check the window first. Over?"

" Gold 3. Proceeding."

What looked like a strange game of old. The triangles moved about erratically. The man followed by rotating the screen, zooming in and out, switching some other buttons the lines turned red, then yellow, then back to green. As the triangles moved in what now appeared as a large rectangle made of green squares the triangles spread out and separated equally. As he watched 2 of the triangles turned yellow then red.. One triangle moved to the position of the 2 red triangles and turned red also. The remaining 10 triangles moved about erratically, and yet again, another triangle turned red.

Finally a clue as to what was going on came over the speaker of the headset. " Gold 7 clear. Gold 1, Gold 13, Gold 11, and Gold 9 compromised. Mission closed, objectives 1 through 7 complete." A brief pause and more voices report. "Gold 4, Objective 3 not completed." The quick response, " Gold 7, execute all objectives."

The man reaches for the mic button and presses it, "Gold return home, passage 3, 1 hour. Over?"

" Gold 4, cleanup 5 count. Proceede."

The man leans back and rubs his eyes. 36 executed in their business place on a word from a tortured prisoner. Therapy won't ease this mind. Well one more, and it's time to call it a night. I'm going to hell soon, forgive my weakness God., he thought. He reached up and switched the toggle up. "Agent S, all clear. return after cleanup."

The sound over the headset was unsettling as he heard every minute detail of the next few actions. The steps of the Agent were careful and well timed. The sniffling and heavy laden breathing of the prisoner was quite obvious now. There were a long series of metal clicks, and the muffled screams of the prisoner could be made out as he cried his last breaths. The sounds of the screaming tortured man stopped, and the subtle sounds of electric sparks could be made out. A large plastic click sounds out and all is silent. Agent S replies with a dark touch of joy, "Returning in 1 hour, operation closed."

The mans hand reaches for the radio and turns it on. The sounds of a calm and relaxing ball game develop slowly and methodically. The mans hand reaches for a item on his belt. His other hand reaches and turns off the power to the controls and monitoring equipment. The room grows dark, a quick simultanious bright flash and powerful snap are set free.

The yellow morning sun tints the landscape of blood and the broken bodies of what used to be men and women dressed in civilian garb. One after another the cameraman moves the lens to its next subject. The obvious gun holes on the bodies and red splatered surroundings reveal what looks like the end result of a deadly battle relaying the impression that the combatants did not go down without the stereotypical blaze of glory. As the appalling scene pulls out of view when the camera un-zooms from the scene of wooden crates, opened metal containers, and speratic mini-trams, you see the area has been quarantined with red tape emblazened with trespassing remarks placed on it. Beyond the red tape, a battalion of uniformed Keep soldiers milling about are taking forensic samples and pictures to catalog the layout and details. A high pitched whistle emanates from a tripod in the center of the area as a 4” dull metal sphere is raised up 40 feet in the air.

The calm and relaxed voice of confidence fills the speakers as an aged and experienced woman begins to explain the images from before, “ I am now reporting live at the site of the massacred bodies found in the airport docks of Gether Transport in Valdas. What was discovered by security on patrol appears to be the remnants of a gang conflict. Forensics has stated that this had occurred approximately between 3am and 5am earlier this morning.”

The report now is brought into the camera view. She is an older woman at 54 with graying pined hair draped over a long conservative robe with hood of brown linen under a ceremonial necklace. Although not carrying an obvious microphone in her hand, you make out that a headset is placed on her subtly to allow her more freedom of movement. The name of the reporter, Janis Walth appears on the screen just above the sports ticker with the weekend game results, overtop of a scrolling ticker of irrelevant new issues.

Janis continues without missing a beat, “The security guards that were on patrol have all sworn testimony that they heard nothing, and that this event could not have happened. Upon further investigation it was determined that the 3 guards were abuser of the illegal substance Frelin. Mandatory blood samples, performed on all witnesses, returned results of the mind enhancing drug in sufficient dosages. The three have since been relieved of duty, and are now in prison awaiting trial.”

“Of the 37 bodies that were rounded up from various areas in a 100 foot radius of a small impromptu blockade of cargo crates, all carried either small caliber machinegun, or automatic handguns. One strange point of note is that evidence of the purpose of the exchange seems to revolve around a sole man that is severely abused and burnt over the entirety of his body. Though initial evidence reveals that a gunshot to the head was the actual cause of his death, the burns are possibly a sign of the immorality of the company he kept. The identity of the prisoner who was assumed to be the reason for the meeting and subsequent conflict, looks to be the once touted Neo Coven prisoner, Robert Yillin. Though caught 4 days ago in the failed Cuhalz Shopping Mall incident, how he managed to get 23 miles from his well guarded holding cell to this location, is under review by the reigning General Shefeld and his Internal Review board at Keep 11 in Herat, who were sworn to protect his safety from threats by anonymous Orthodox Militants.”

“Throughout the course of the day, we will be bringing you additional news and details about this unfolding story. What will be the end result of this infighting? Keep officials suspect that the capture and arrest of all active dissidents will be much swifter and prolific with divided interest of the waring fanatics. Janis Walth of CNC reporting, good morning from Gether Transport in Valdas.”

“And my Lady? How do you do today?” The man in a ceremonial robe of silk inlaid cotton with a warm hand touched lightly upon the face of the the middle aged woman. Her face cold, pale, and lifeless. “Much the same. My prayers, and the peoples prayers are with you. I will wait... we will all wait for you to complete our souls once more.”

The Cleric walks calmly out of the large echo filled room. His soft steps carry and amplify on the steel walls. Past the electronic machines, the computer monitoring equipment, the doctor on his shift of a 24 hour watch. “Good day, and God bless Doctor.” The Cleric waves a sign of blessing. The Doctor from a slumped down position, buried in a manual looks up and smiles a feint glimmer of thanks. The Cleric smiles back, then passes through the only door slowly. Two well armed men the size of football linebackers ready to pounce on the slightest threat can be made out on the other side. The door closes quietly behind him. The Doctor can finally read in peace, that will be the last visitor for today. He always is.

The Doctor looked up from in a chair meant to keep people from being comfortable, previously wallowing in a technical document the size of the latest census report, his weary eyes rest upon the woman laying still on the bed 10 feet from him. His eyes close briefly with the gravity, and he gets up, setting his reading on the chair he recently occupied. Moving calmly to the bedside of the woman, he takes a long look at the components of what were thought as her last hope, then sits by her side.

“It is a sad story what in you stead comes from the mouths of the trusted. You have nothing to keep you in this world, in this counrty... your country, as much as mine. A lesser... No, even a great man would have resigned to peace by now. But you fight with the light of God and the will of his guidance. I fear that what is happening outside these quiet walls and peaceful halls, is but the worst offense to your own desires.” He gets up and examines more instruments and reset computer counters and backup the system as occurs regularly and precisely.

10 minutes pass and the Doctor sits back down to place his hand on her vital signs to test her pulse. A wholly unnecessary act, but one of comfort for the man, since technology has made personal contact all but irrelevant these days. Still tradition has much power, and the heart, a much ignored vital need of people, drew on interaction with others to find purpose and retain it's energy. He laughed lightly at his own weaknesses and looked upon her with concern and a hint of awe. “I will never get to say these words to listening ears I fear. Once you regain your self, and rise from the bed to re-take your purpose in life, I fear that you will never be closer to the people that you hold so dear then right now. But you must keep your enemies close, so that they never again do what transgression seem to take place without you.”

He pauses and looks out the artillery-shell proof window that was only allowed by the insistent pleading of all medical professionals, stating that 'She would need the rays of sunlight upon her in order to recover.' It was a lie. But there was so little hope all their hearts that they used any superstition that could be applied to her. What is a bit of light after all? Her soul would surely wither as all things do, without the sight of the morning sun each day. We could all imagine ourselves in that position. Who would come back to a body that was locked in a cave? Naive? Yes. But little does anything matter when all products of science prove useless. What is left is what you must work with.

“And so you rest here. I envy you. You must know peace. This is perhaps the only true rest you have known since you were so very young. As we all were once, looking back to the carefree days in the summer, when the only problem is how to fill so much freedom into such a short day, I fear that that is the last time that you knew a pleasant day of rest.” He reaches around her form and confirms the various monitoring sensors, then opens up each of her eyes to check and make sure that she has not regained consciousness while he pontificated his own silly notions. No change was seen. His heart would have sunk further but there is no place lower for it to go. He continued talking to ease his own heart. “I always wonder if you will ever quietly wake, and scare me with a 'Boo' like my own son does on Saturday mornings when he wants to watch cartoons with me and my wife.” Stifling a laugh, “But you are too good for that I suppose. The people that you surprise are never startled with you. You have seen us through much, and I know that you will come through. “ A simple smile comes across his face and he reaches down to hold her hand, so lightly that you might not even know that his skin was touching hers.

Thoughts raced through his mind and he looked down to his hand in surprise. Did he feel a reaction? It must be his imagination, hoping, praying, an illusion of his own deepest wish for him to be of some use in her recovery. But time and time again, the malady of the poison was all to powerful over her body. A better man would have died, but she fought on. Luck perhaps? No luck was not a factor in the actions of her, she was blessed and carried the will of God in her actions, her voice, and her presence.

“All that is left is to wait for you to return when you are ready. I know you must be waiting... It must not be the right time. It is the only reason that you are still... even now... after everything that we have done for you... you...” The doctors eyes fill with tears. It's easy to be strong when there is at least one idea that you can understand, when there is at least one thing that you can point to with certainty and state that 'That is.' But now is not one of those days, nor has anyone here seen a day like that in a long time.

He gets up from the bed slowly, knowing that his heart can not take another minute with her in this state. He looks downward, nervously, forgetful that he had sacrilegiously touched her frail body. It was an egregious sin outside these four walls. But here, in the silence, in the security of the Holy Temple of the Palace of her High Empress Laur Kaeil, such small infractions were over looked... if you were careful. He turned his hand over to allow her hand fall back to it's 'designated position', where it has not moved from in over a month. As he slowly pulled each finger back from her cool touch, the last moment of his time with her tonight was to be a slight twist of his palm that would gently release her back into the 'ideal position'. He could not watch as he got up and started for the door, ashamed that he was of no use whatsoever. The Doctor stood and started for the door, not looking back.

His arm felt a slight touch, and he stopped in his tracks. The fear rose in his mind and heart, afraid to look back at what damage to her he could have caused. What if he pulled and damaged one of her frail tendons? What if he dislocated a joint, or worse caused internal injury with his foolish and childish whims. He was doomed. He surely would be sent to the deepest darkest cell and made to live out a life of servitude to a large criminally insane sycophant. The new leader of the nation, with absolute control of the security forces and soldier that were sent on missions to ... Her fingers curved and wrapped themselves around his hand, Alex's mind found peace.

The sound of a classical radio station gets louder. The room is calm and quiet in a colloquial essence of tradition and detail. As the person sitting in the chair reaches over to the side table he raises a glass container with what most likely is room temperature rum then pulls it to his mouth and takes a sip. The middle aged man in relaxed but refined clothing raises up his other hand and points forward.

CLICK... A typical aged male news reporter with a droll voice starts in the place of the music. ...further news the sudden change in government policies over the past two months is about to get another overhaul as the word from the Palace come out again by...

CLICK... two young and energetic women start discussing life in the place of the reporter ... So there I was sitting in the tunnel, and wouldn't you know it?! I got this pinching feeling! There is great laughter coming over the background and the second woman can be heard laughing overtop of everything. She interupts," And he was there right next to you! That's too funny.... How did..."

CLICK... The station is changed once more to the sounds of rather angry screaming cats under the influence of Speed have there chance to fight with each other. Though to everyone else's ears it would be the sound of an electric guitar played by a rather adept teen. This continues for a few seconds before changing stations once more.

CLICK... Two eager young men banter between each other over the latest news coming from the market drop over the past 3 weeks "It's all about the criminal prosecution of the now defunct AirNet. If it weren't for.." The other interupts," Don't fool yourself. Those zealot and the fanatics are bringing this country into a even greater depression. Look, four buildings are now gone! Off the face of the planet! I mean... What they were each worth 10.3 million? And what about the innocents that had been trapped in the buildings? Sure it was only a couple security guards and a couple Government agents in each instance, but exactly where do you think the insurance money is going.." The first man takes hold of the conversation once more, "You want to talk about effect?! AirNet was the only producer of plains for this country! That's like cutting off the supply of water to the city and telling the people to go carry it back with buckets! You have no.."

CLICK... A jazz station replaces the inane argument of the stock market. The music stay on and the man leans back and relaxes once more. A few minutes pass and a hurried reporter takes over the airwaves interrupting the music." NJN apologizes for this interruption but her Holy and glorious Empress Laur Kaeil has prepared a statement for the good and noble people of the Dhulus Empire which has just started, we tune you in now to hear the first words from our High Empress in near 3 months..." There is a slight pause as the source of the radio broadcast changes and the harsh voice of a middle aged voice begins speaking,"... we have seen much change in the past days, and I regret. The people have even under the duress of all that happens around you been able to keep your pride and honor despite the atrocities that this government has undertook while I was ill."

The glass of rum slips rom the mans hands and drops to the floor breaking into pieces that scatter about the hardwood floor like roaches when the lights come on. He points the remote at the radio in the fall wall and changes the station.

CLICK... The voice of the Empress Laur Kaeil continues. "To think that a simple apology will be enough... Would be to treat you all as inferior children that are incapable of understanding the.."

CLICK The voice of the Empress Laur Kaeil continues. [i]" ...the truth about the policies that have plagued and brought forth the need for citizens to have to raise up their arms and their hatred.."

[i]CLICK " ...upon the walls and good people that have dedicated their lives to the cause of being the overseers of the people and the security of our workplace. And so I must call upon.."

[i]CLICK " ...to take up their arms and hatred once more." CLICK "...bring themselves to the last, and the original..." CLICK " ...person who did you.." CLICK " ... injustice..." CLICK " ... I call you now to..." CLICK " ...justice to the..." CLICK "...devil, and sa..." CLICK "...Gerald Dowers, the..." CLICK

The room goes silent. The thoughts and fears race through his head and he rushes out of this chair and looks down to the gardens below just outside of his den. All is quiet, there seems to be no major force waiting for him. He may get to escape. Gerald clamored for the hunting gun cabinet and pulled out a submachine gun. Filling all his pockets with as much ammo as he could stuff into his cloths, he bolted for the door and opened it up.

On the other side two guards look at the traitor with suspicious eyes. The one to the left makes a quick remark, "Everything all right sir?"

Gerald attempts to hastily regain his composure then answers still breathing hard, "Yes.. I am just fine. Excuse me. Please stay there. I will be right back."

He made his way down the wide and long hallway to the rear stairs that led to the garden area and the helicopter that he was brought in on. The hall was like the den, perfect in its opulence, yet warm and inviting like the way you remember your own childhood home. But now was not the time to appreciate the size of this building, he had perhaps 5 minutes to take off before the guards got wind of the press conference and ran around to bring him to justice.

Now moving just under a sprint he bolted down the carpeted circular stairs and hugged the banister as he turned to get to the rear exit. Out from behind him a young voice shouted out, "Emissary Dowers! I think that we need to speak!"

The young man said not another word and Gerald quickly used his combat knowledge to make an about-face and spray the hallway to the kitchen with half a clip. Refocused again he concentrated to see what the effect was, and disbelieved his eyes. In the hallway was the faceless body of a new agent who was assigned to handle his appointments. "Damn it!" He now realized he knew the voice, He really liked the dedicated boy. But that is a lost cause now. The line of bullets ran from wall to wall and the several that hit him in the head, emptied the contents on the nor marred doorway. The blood pool suddenly snapped his attention and he had to get moving. The guards are sure to find him now.

He threw open the rear doors and sprinted to the waiting helicopter. From behind he could make out the muffled conversation of the security guards as they just discovered the body of Kevin. "Damn this... Shit!". from behind he could hear the exacerbated shouts to get him. They were on to him.... just a few more feet... Almost there... The unmanned cockpit was a welcome site and he had exactly 90 seconds to get off the ground. Anyone else would not be able to do it. But helicopters were his specialty, he was a master of many things, regrettably right now he wish he was a little more subtle.

He jumped in and started up the engine. The engine whined and sputtered as it started to pick up speed. He madly flipped switches, and turned dials. Punched in the access codes for the munitions, and threw the helmet on his head. This was not meant to be an assault vehicle, but it was armed, and the security forces that were heading his way were extremely dangerous. He turned his helmet towards the building and grabbed hold of the stick. Pressing a few of the buttons on the stick he set the missiles. "Three... two... one...".

From under the helicopter four missiles shot straight forward and started their arc through the open grass of the field. As the streaked out with white plume clouds trailing behind they turned to the compound and set their sights on the areas he selected with the integrated helmet. Not four seconds passed but it felt like an eternity. The men attempted a fleeting burst at the helicopter and the missiles themselves, but to no avail. The missiles hit their strategic marks and he was now protected by a wall of fire and smoke so that he could escape with impunity. In movies you always see the people get blown off their feet and land in about 10 feet away on soft ground. This was not the movies. The security guards and assistants were blown off the ground, but in several pieces, on fire, and you could tell that they were alive for part of the trip as their flying bodies convulsed for the last moments of their lives. The pieces of the house, the garden, and the guards flew everywhere. Several came close to him, but the blades were picking up in speed and they protected him from the gruesome sight.

15 seconds. The blades were about ready to lift him out of here and to his secret bank account in the neighboring nation of Silicty. It was meant to be a last resort he thought. But as all plans go, you always end up using plan B. Good thing he emptied a the budget of of his least favorite service before he decided to take his vacation here. Who cares about the the Pension. These bastards deserve what I handed to them.

The Helicopter took off. He stayed low and headed straight for the city to keep the guards from following in their trucks. One quick run through the streets and then off to the north, home free.