NationStates Jolt Archive

Somewhere in Tartarus

Benjamin Trevett put his bike into top speed, dodging through the traffic like an animated cannonball. He was being late, and he hated being late. Moreover, he was unarmed – in following with the laws of this strange country. The embassy tried to get him an exemption and failed – they always did. Embassies were useless, thought Ben.

A foreigner would see Trevett as the epitome of the Allanean - a ten-gallon-hat, a “photographer’s” vest, combat boots, and a powerful muscle-bike that has replaced the “cowboy’s” regular horse. In fact, mused Trevett, precious few people in Allanea even owned a ten-gallon hat. But then, he thought, why should he care what foreigners thought?

With a scream of the brakes, the bike spun down to a halt at the entrance to the building he was trying to reach. Benjamin Trevett glanced at his watch. He still had some time left – maybe ten minutes. Precious few, he thought. He chained his bike to a fence, and bolted toward the entrance.

GT Technologies, Research Division Building, Erebus

Looking at her watch for again, Natasha Templeton stopped her endless pacing of her office wondering just when her visitor would be arriving. Not that she was overly happy at having to meet anyone. She preferred to work on her own, letting her own mind run away with itself and grabbing any ideas that came to her, whereas working with another meant sharing ideas and having to work together at a set pace. It was even worse when the person you were going to work with did not even come from the same nation.

She sighed loudly, as she recalled the conversation she had had a couple of days earlier with Morgan Stone, when he informed her of the development agreement that had been made with Allanea. And she remembered the near argument she had gotten into when she refused to assist, until she had been threatened with losing her job.

Resuming her pacing, she looked again at her watch, seeing that there were only a couple more minutes before her visitor would arrive. Not wanting to give a bad impression, not for her own sake but because she had also been warned about that, she headed over to the desk, and made herself comfortable in her chair. She picked up the pen that was resting on top of a file and began to play with it, unable to stop from fidgeting.

Benjamin smiled momentarily as he entered the room, taking off his hat – enormous by local standards, and looking for a place to hang it – he was still panting after the quck dash. He looked at Natasha briefly. He did not like the idea of working with a socialist – given that, as far as he knew, socialists didn’t like Allanea much, and were generally pretty distasteful people. Then again, the only socialists he ever dealed with up until now where those protesting against some practica or other by his company they didn’t like.

Right now, thought Benjamin Trevett, the situation was being made even less pleasant by the fact he was late – only by two minutes and twenty seconds, his watch told him, but still wrong in a situation like this. Above all, he thought, being wrong in a situation such as this would be, well, embarassing. He was told, before he left, that he was “representing the nation” – and being late on the first day of work probably wasn’t the best sort of representation.

He started talking, still grasping the hat uncomfortable: Umm… Mrs… Comrade? I take it you are Natasha Templeton. I must apologize for being late. The traffic is terrible, you understand. I am very, very sorry. Tell me, is there anywhere I can hang my hat?”

Watching as her visitor entered, Natasha stared for a moment as the man before her took of his hat and glanced around, obviously looking for somewhere to place it. As he was distracted, she took a moment to give him the once over, finding him not what she was expecting, not that had spared herself the time to give the man an image.

Suddenly realising her manners, she stopped staring and indicated a filing cabinet against the wall. “You can put it on there for now, so it will be out of harm’s way.” She gave the hat another look, wondering why anyone would want to wear such a thing then smiled as she met his gaze. “I’m Ms Natasha Templeton, and I’ve been assigned to work with you on this project.”

She glanced quickly at the file that lay open on her desk. “Mr Benjamin Trevett, I’m assuming?” He could not really be anyone else; it was not as if anyone off the street could just stroll in.

Benjamin smiled as he put his hat down. Apparently, she did not notice him being late “Benjamin Trevett, design artist. It seems you are the person who provides the brains behind this project. I just make the end result look cosy and be ergonomic. That’s what I do for my company – grafic design. Cars, guns, laptops, radio sets – the company engineers make the internals, so to speak. I give it face.”

He hands her a CD with the Allanean Arms, Inc. logo and motto stamped on it. “This is all the information we have on the project so far. Perhaps this would be of assistance.” – he hands her another one with an Allanean Government seal on it. “Those are the specifications for the government order on the things – they ain’t designated a Cultural Warfare Device for nothin’, you know.”

Then, Trevett smiles, the light glinting off his steel-toed combat shoes – lates Allanean fashion. “So, when can we get rumblin’?”

“Is impatience an Allanean trait or just one of yours?” Natasha looked at her guest, as she indicated the chair that was placed in front of her desk. “In case you did not notice during your arrival, but there are several areas in this facility which are restricted, and are strictly off bounds to you.” As she spoke, she opened a file on her desk and withdrew a plastic keycard. “This will gain you access to all parts of the facility to which you are permitted to enter.”

She lowered her eyes back to the documents in the file, and flicked through them to make sure they were all there. Closing it, she leant over the desk and presented it to Benjamin. “These are the guidelines to the facility, including emergency evacuation and other important information. I suggest that you make the time to read through them.”

“I will give you a tour of the facilities then we will head for the lab to begin the official briefing concerning what your nation wants us to help them produce.” She cast him a smile that was not very warming to her features. “Do you have any questions so far?”

Benjamin smiles as he reaches for the card. “Thank you, Mrs. Templeton.” He slides the card into one of the oversized pockets of his pants – which would be called BDU pants if they were not of a totally non-military colour. “You never heard of the phrase: “Anything worth doing tomorrow is worth doing today”, did you?” – he smirks.

Then, he reaches for the manual. “Thank you, again. Tell me, when will you be ready to commence the tour?”

Natasha sighed softly as the man once again addressed her as ‘Mrs’, wondering in the meantime whether he was slightly deaf, stupid or just trying to wind her up. To save herself she mentally marked him down as all three. “Mr Trevett, I don’t know what kind of cowboy…” She just managed to stifle a laugh at her unintended pun. “…organisation that you normally work for, but here we do things in their own time. After all, rushing things can cause problems.”

She turned her attention back to her desk, ensuring that she had covered everything so far, while at the same time trying to stop her temper rising, after all he was a guest in the country, even if she was not happy to be lumbered with him. “Do you have any relevant questions?” She looked at him questioningly. “If not, then we shall begin.” She rose from her seat. “Just remember, Mr Trevett, you are a guest of this facility, as such you will adhere to the rules, one of which is you listen to me.”

As she headed to the door, she turned back briefly. “And I should tell you right now, just so we stay on the best of terms. We do things at my pace, when I say so, and no arguments. Remember that, and we will get on.” She opened the door and indicated for him to go through. “You can leave your hat here.”

Trevett shrugs as he follows Natasha out of the room. “I work for Allanean Arms, Ms. Templeton. Since when did ‘cowboy’ become a bad thing, anyhow?”. He rises from his place and proceeds after Natasha.

“So, what is this place? Some form of government research institute, I gather?” – asks Templeton, as he glances at Natasha’s figure, thinking to himself. ‘Now this would be a damn hot date, if she wasn’t a stupid, b**y communist.’.

“I’m assuming you were briefed before you came here, Mr Trevett?” Natasha stopped walking and turned towards her companion. “GT Technologies is under the direct control of Her Imperial Majesty, Gehenna of Tartarus, along with the countless other industries and facilities that are peppered around the nation.” She sighed, slightly louder than she had intended.

“This facility has varying levels of research from military to commercial uses.” She continued on her way. “But in case you turn rogue on me and think that there is anything in this building that might interest you, other than our business, forget it. This place is secure, and most of the Top Secret experiments and designs are carried on in other sites, sites that even I do not know the location of.”

She did not know why she was telling him all this, but it seemed to be coming to her mind, and she was not one to waste information. She glanced at her watch. “I think we’ll have to postpone the tour after we’ve been to the lab.” Without waiting for his reply, she headed for the elevator at the end of the corridor.

Trevett shrugs: "I am a grafics artist, not a spy. I couldn't get your military stuff if I wanted it. Besides I am sure that Allanea's military is far more advanced than yours. When you spend more than half your national budget into the military, that tends to happen." - he was perhaps getting too patriotic here, he thought. Still, it was nice to remind the communist she was talking to an Allanean, not some third-world spy.

"But then again, I understand you being suspicious. We Allaneans are a very safety-conscious people when it matters - which is why my company came to be that rich in the first place. So, can you show me my workplace?" he smiles as he follows Natasha to the lab.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, and smiled. “I don’t presume to know the ins and outs of Tartarus, Mr Trevett. What the nation spends on defence and the military is not my concern, and I’m sure they would rather not share that information with other nations either.” She turned back to the door, and pushed it open, wondering why, if Allanea was such an advanced nation, they had come to Tartarus for assistance.

As she entered the lab, she spotted Morgan Stone, Head of the Research Division waiting inside for them. She entered silently, and made her way over to where he stood, as he stepped forward to greet their guest.

“Mr Trevett, it’s a pleasure.” He presented his hand to the Allanean and shook solidly. “I hope Dr Templeton has been showing you around and filling you in on a few things.” He shot his colleague a glance, and revised a wry smile in return. “This is the general location you will be working, there is a little office put aside for your needs, which adjoins this lab.”

He looked at his guest as he spoke. “I’m sure you are eager to get started. If you have any questions, Dr Templeton is here, and should you need anything that she is unable to supply you with, please feel free to contact me, and I will do my utmost to answer your questions or procure anything you might require.” He looked between Natasha and Benjamin, his gaze fixing on her for a moment as if reminding her to behave. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.”

Barely waiting for them to reply, he disappeared out of the lab and left the two standing there. Natasha turned to Benjamin and smiled. “Well, here we are. Whenever you are ready, I suggest we get started.” The sooner we start, the sooner this comes to an end, she thought to herself.

Trevett shrugged. That was not the way they did it in Allanea. In his nation, the full budget was available annually for perusal and download. He never read it, but considered it to be the only civilised way to go – after all, the government worked for him. Isn’t the employer supposed to know how the employees are progressing?, wondered Trevett as he surveyed his workplace.

“Well, Mrs. Templeton, right now, it’s just your show, ma’am..” – Trevett said. “I am the grafics artist. You are the engineer here. Since you know what we need – a form of ear-worn receiver, as I am given to understand from the requirement list – all you need to do is to give it a body. I will give it a face.”

Shaking her head, and rubbing her temples gently to ward away the stress that was threatening to creep into her normally calm mind; calm where people were perhaps, as normally she tried to avoid them like a plague, losing herself in her work for hours on end, forgetting the simple tasks of eating and sleeping. But today she was not calm, and she did not need her IQ to tell her what or more importantly who it was that was causing the rise in stress in her.

She looked over at Trevett, and raised both her hands before her. “Okay, do you see a ring on any of these fingers?” She did not wait for him to reply. “No, you do not, and the reason for that is because I am not married.” And I can see why I have managed to stay off that path so far. “Obviously my title is too complicated for you, so why don’t you just call me Natasha, it’s on the lab door and my badge, should you forget it.”

Walking over to the counter, she picked up some papers that she had been working on over the last couple of days, and took them over to a board, which she pinned the diagrams on. She looked over at Benjamin, knowing she had been slightly rude to her guest, but she really was not a people person. “These are the preliminary designs. They fit what Allanea asked for, but I would appreciate you checking to ensure I have covered everything to your satisfaction.”

Moving back over to the counter, she picked up a box, and walked over to Trevett. “This is a basic size model, not in working order, but more so that you can see the size we are working to.” She pulled out the model and placed it in her hands. “The mechanics of the device are currently being made into a working prototype; not to scale, as we want you to assess the design, and that is better done on a larger model. If we get your go ahead, we will scale down the device, and present for your inspection, at which point you can add your input.” She looked at him questioningly. “Do you have any questions at this point?”