Opening communications relay point...
Hello...?
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James Unum Rese
Department of Scientific Research and Development
The Divine Imperium
What the...Rese, what are you doing on this channel?! Can I not have a single moment's peace?
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Taiyoku Kazuki
Department of Scientific Research and Development
The Divine Imperium
Rese: Oh! Taiyoku! What a great surprise. How are you?
Taiyoku: I was much better just two minutes ago. Why are you here?
Rese: I got a message asking me to come on this channel. It's a bit primitive, right? Nothing like the holographic interfaces. Why'd you want me here? =^_^=
Taiyoku: ...wanted you here? Rese, I assure you. I promise you. I swear to you. I never want you talking to me. NEVER. UNDER ANY CIR...what in the name of the Light is that thing?
Rese: This? =^_^=
Taiyoku: Yes, that...
Rese: <(''<) (>'')> I have no idea. Cute, though.
Taiyoku: Why are you here?!
<'X' has entered this conversation...>
X: Ah, gentlemen. I'm glad you're both here.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v369/Roania/X.jpg
X
Cabinet Minister of Intelligence Services
The Divine Imperium
Rese: Good morning, ma'am.
Taiyoku: Good morning, sir.
X: Quite. There's been a lot of chatter lately in the underground press about the upcoming 20th anniversary of the accession of His Supreme Divine Illuminated Imperial Majesty Lord-Emperor Cassander Lucius Drakharn. Since your minister recommended the pair of you to me, I'm temporarily commandeering your two departments.
Rese: Well. That's just super. -_-
Taiyoku: Will you PLEASE stop with those pictures? They're driving me...sorry, what, sir?
X: You and your departments are now working for me. The orders, countersigned by His Excellency Archchancellor Darquis, will be on your desks...now.
Taiyoku: I don't see any...oh, there it is. Under the credenza.
Rese: This does seem to be in order, ma'am. It's a pity, as we were really coming along on the new pheremone spray. I was just going to test it, in fact.:(
X: Can't be helped, I'm afraid. I'm...
Taiyoku: How did you do that? I just got this hideous blue picture on my screen. Make it go away.
X: ...Your Minister must have been mistaken. Still, there's no help for it. Just...get your men on getting those papers and analysing trends. The celebrations are tonight, so I estimate you have 5 hours.
Taiyoku/Rese: Sorry? You want us to do what in how long?
<X has left this conversation>
Rese: She is totally a chick, you know.
Taiyoku: What? Who?
Rese: X. X is a chick. Why are you calling her 'sir'? She's not in the military. And neither are we.
Taiyoku: X is a man, Rese. And hey, I just figured out how to make this work. :gundge:
Rese: I bet you 200IM that X is a chick.
Taiyoku: That's the dumbest thing you have ever said. I never thought I'd say that, but you have reached a plateau of sheer stupidity. It's all either steady, or downhill from here. Still, I like touching money. So, bet. How do you think you'll prove it?
Rese: The pheremone spray. I'll get into the cabinet meeting to present our findings wearing it. We'll see how...
Taiyoku: ...that's what you've been spending your department's research budget on? That's...I'd say that's human, but that's lower than human. What is wrong with you?! Still, I look forward to what the Archchancellor will do to you when his female cabinet members bodyrush you. Go right ahead.
Rese: All right. So, let's get to work on that.
Taiyoku: What? We have our orders.
Rese: I know. :cool:
Taiyoku: Then why would we... and second, stop doing that.
Rese: We both know that neither of us are going to do any more work today. You are going to go back home and try to seduce your maid again while your wife is visiting her cousin on Altecrast. I'm going to go back to researching this 'Tetris' ritual.
Taiyoku: That's the ancient Terran ritual demonstration of plumbing techniques from the early Primitivist-revival period, right? And what's that about my maid?
Rese: Precisely. I theorise that in a way it is linked with 'Super Luigi Bros', which as we know is the game that involved blocks falling down from the sky that, according to our sources, had to be arranged in patterns. Quite a lot of human cultural development can be explained if we can just establish that link.
Taiyoku: Fascinating. But what are you accusing me about my maid?
Rese: Methinkst thou dost protest too much.
Taiyoku: Don't you quote ancient literature at me! Answer the...
Rese: Hey, do you hear that?
<This connection has been temporarily disconnected by an outage at CPS>
Special Agent A. Diane Denison flipped through her notebook. "Yeah, I think we can take this guy in." She flashed a perfect smile at the whimpering little figure in front of her. "Don't you agree?" Her eyes flashed with fury as she prodded the felinoid with her vibrating nightstick.
The felinoid curled up even more, scrabbling with its paws at the ground. "Mercy! Mercy!" It hissed in imperfect Roanian. "Mrr was holding it for a friend!"
Special Agent Denis Dian picked up the bag of powder and held it up in front of his eyes, then licked his finger and dipped it in. After a little dusting of powder appeared on his finger. he brought it to his lips and sucked the tip. "Yes, this is definitely high-grade klen." The glow in his eyes brightened. "I say we bring him in right now! This is highly illegal, and it might be enough to get the boss to forget the hover...whoah...shiny..." he took his badge off his chest and stared at it.
Diane stared at her partner, and then just shook her head. "I told you not to put the powder in your mouth. Didn't I tell you? I told you." She kicked the felinoid. "Right?"
The felinoid went sprawling on the ground. "Mrr didn't hear you..." When she raised her foot again, it placed its hands together. "Oh! Right. Yes. Lady officer did say. She said, 'Don't eat the powder!'" The felinoid raised a hand a little nervously. "Sir does know that klen is for felinoids, not for glowers?" When Diane raised a hand, he meowed nervously. "I mean Roanians. Most honourable Roanian."
Denis was swaying back and forth. "of course I know that, kitty!" Denis leaned forward and petted the felinoid on the head. "Good kitty..." The felinoid's own eyes flashed and its paws tightened, its claws almost coming out and only restrained by fear of the consequences.
Diane sighed. "Excuse him, he's mentally retarded." She grabbed Denis and pulled him around. "Come on, stop playing around and... what are you doing?!" He had grabbed her body and put his head right on her breasts. Her eyes flared.
"You're so soft, Diane...you have such a soft body." He poked her in the chest a couple of times. Diane's eyes became more and more opaque as he did. "You don't feel like a bitch at all...whoah, I can see colours..." He buried his head in her cleavage.
Diane glanced at her prisoner. "How long do people normally last before they go out?" She demanded.
"Mrrr doesn't know, lady. Maybe 5 minutes?"
"Not quickly enough, then." She clubbed Denis over the head. He went down. "Come on, help me bring him back to HQ and I'll see you get time off." She picked him up by the legs and prodded the felinoid to grab his torso.
Eventually the three of them made it into the street, where normal citizens just pretended not to notice them, though a couple of tourists did gawk a little. Diane stopped, and the felinoid almost tripped over his tail. "Hey, did you hear that?"
Prince C. Aeron Drakharn placed his feet up on the table and ran a finger down one of his wristguards. "Open screen." A screen appeared in front of him, floating in midair. He slid his finger along the wristguard in pattern, and his name appeared on the box, followed by the authentication password. Once all that was entered, a broad list of words appeared. He tapped the guard in places occasionally before making a selection. Then he placed the guard down and the screen minimised into non-existence.
Music struck up from hidden speakers across the garden. He sighed in relaxation, and then noticed something. A small turtle-like animal was crossing the garden at a slow pace. The cruel prince walked over and picked it up, looking at it curiously. The animal looked up at him, dully, as if waiting for him to put it back down.
Aeron did. Placing on its shell, and placing rocks on both sides in order to prevent it rolling over. He looked up at the sun, calculating how long it would take for it to reach the heat of the day. Then he smiled and stepped back up to his chair, setting back to watch. So he was right in place to observe the tortusoid simply spin its limbs around within the shell, its neck twisting to turn its head back to face the right direction, and then it proceeded to amble off again, without even a glance.
Aeron, like all Roanians, had a highly developed sense of scientific cruelty. He also, like many Roanians, had a highly developed sense of sadism. He was not impressed at the loss of his fun. He reached for his pistol and pointed it at the creature, which continued on, unaware of its doom. Aeron fired and missed, as something distracted him. "What was that?"
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Prince Caurentin Aeron Drakharn
"More wine, Your Highness?" The felinoid waiter bowed low to the two Roanians sitting at the table. Grand Duke Simon Darquis hummed and held up his glass, twirling some of his pasta around his fork. The Felinoid refreshed the glass, and retreated to the kitchen, already anticipating the large tip that the Grand Duke would doubtlessly leave him.
Simon swirled the wine delicately. "Twenty years." He said, finally coming to the point.
His companion inclined his head. "I have always been amazed at how well you can read a newspaper, Simon." Prince-Archduke D. Charleston Black of Roan was the other noble's junior by nearly 60 years. Hardly any time at all to Roanians. This was the first time they had met since he had gone to Mars as Viceroy, though. "Surprised?"
"Not at all." Simon waved a hand dismissively. "Though the question is, more to the point, whether Cassander is a good Lord-Emperor in his own right, or if anyone would look good after his predescessor." Simon bared his teeth and inclined his own head, eyes dimming. "He still refuses to allow the Parliament to pass a Condemnation upon Lord-Emperor Alexander."
Charleston sighed and lifted up his own glass, the glow in his eyes flickering. "I hear Lord Walters was thrown out of the senate for attempting to place pressure upon Cassander. While I have sympathy, I feel that the reality of the situation makes it clear that a Condemnation would damage the new regime before it even starts. There is also the...personal aspect. As Head of Great House Black, it would be my duty to defend Alexander the Dark," His lips curled upon the final word, and he grasped carefully the little sun-cross that hung around his neck to ward off any ill omens that might come his way. "Whatever I do, it will set me against Cassander in a way I do not want to be. While plainly it would be my duty to rebuild my House's prestige with a marriage into the Drakharns, I also feel it would be wise..."
"Wait a generation or so." Simon advised, leaning back and placing his hands together, his wings stretching out and then enfolding again. "Excuse me." He twisted his head back and forth and then stretched his arms. "I've come down with some sort of feather-illness, and the doctor has told me to stetch the joints every hour. Where was I?"
"Wait a generation..."
"Yes. At this moment in time, Great House Black is third in the Imperial Cycle. I see no reason to change the priority. I have already made arrangements with Lady-Empress Alysanndra for my younger son to wed Princess C. Ailis." Simon reached up and rubbed his nose gently. "My middle-daughter still requires a husband to keep her on the straight and narrow, and she's always longed to travel to Sol..."
Charleston hurried to block what was coming. "Myself and Lady A. Lilian Darsalin have reached an assignation, I'm afraid. Great House Darsalin and Imperial House Black were always closely aligned. With the extinction of that line, I feel that the time is right for a..."
"No, you are quite right. It was simply a thought." Simon frowned, his eyes gleaming. "What is your opinion of the ascension of Middle House Drakharn to the Divine?"
Charleston frowned. "An unusual question. You would have succeeded to the throne prior to me, without the will. Primogeniture doesn't apply when Imperial House Black split from us upon the accession of Lord-Emperor Joseph. The sole connection was the..."
"That's not my question, Damien." Simon murmured, leaning in and locking eyes with the younger noble. "Do you not feel that if a childless Lord-Emperor can choose his successor, it throws the whole House System into question?"
Charleston frowned and rubbed gently one of his nails. "Perhaps. But 20 years seems a long time to start this debate. Perhaps if you had made a move in the days immediately following the assassination, there would have been support in the Houses. Now it would seem impolitic." If the use of his prename annoyed him, he didn't show it.
Simon shook his head. "Yes, but perhaps measures could be taken to ensure that it..."
Charleston held up a finger. "Did you hear that?" He looked out the window, and then his expression became rather carefully blank.
Simon looked out the window as well, and then rose to his feet. "I believe I am needed at the palace. Join or not at your own discretion."
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Grand Duke Simon Darquis
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Archduke D. Charleston Black
"Free." Lilian Aliesa Darsalin muttered, lounging her head against the plush cushions at her back. Her driver negotiated the sharp turns that would take her to her old, and temporary, residence in Darsalin Hall, that place of lost dreams and ruined hopes. She could see it now, grim and terrible against the blue sky.
Once, according to the House Histories, it had been cheerful. Bright. A manor deserving the title of Residence of the (then) Third House. Then had come the First Imperial War, where the forces conspiring to restore the rule of the Shadow had stormed through the capital, burning and killing and plundering. At the palace walls Alexander I, the good Alexander, had rallied the soldiers following the suicide of his weak brother and driven the traitors from the Imperial City, and then across the continent, back to the very ships that had brought the men from Agua. Too late for the Darsalins, though.
How many had there been, all those hundreds. thousands, of years ago? Tens? Dozens? Scores? All dead in one night's worth of killing. From what was once a flourishing family, there was now only one branch. Some murmured that the Darsalins who survived had been cursed. Always two there had been. A brother and a sister. From the war's end to the present, there had only ever been two.
Oh, the family was proud. And conservative. Far too proud and conservative to adopt cousins, bastards, nephews, nieces. Why? The family would say. Why, when there was an heir? Oh, and there was always an heir. A male heir kept coddled and safe from the moment he was born until the moment he had his children, the only children he would ever see of his own blood. 'I'm well out of that.' She thought to herself, stretching and smiling, then closing her eyes.
Then the limousine stopped. She looked out and around, and then reached out of the car. "What seems to be the problem?" She demanded. There was always a problem. Light, how she hated being back in the Imperial City. How she hated being back on Roan, that continent which had been almost swallowed by urban construction. The Lord-Emperor could retreat to his residence on one of the other continents, one of the other planets. Grand Duke Simon hardly ever left his 'aerie' in the heights of Derricks.Charleston, her fiance, could visit Black Family holdings across the entire Imperium. Even the Lesser HouseLords, the merchants, the blasted people could take a holiday. But not a Darsalin. That wasn't the Darsalin 'Way'. The Darsalins, even moreso than the Blacks, had always been tied to Roan. And that meant tied to the city at that continent's core, that twisted spider at the center of a web that swallowed villages and forests and parks and would, she believed, one day swallow the entire planet. "Honestly, it would be faster to fly." Though the buildings made that a dangerous proposition, especially at this time of day, when the winds came from the river.
"Couple of scalies having a fight in the street." One of the guards muttered, reaching for his force-rifle. "Want me to remove them? We could stun them both and get the ICG here in a second."
"No." Lilian reached across and rubbed her finger over the door's circuit. It unlocked and she slid down, adjusting her dress. She stretched and almost purred as her wings popped free. She folded them behind her crosswise, wanting to add as much bulk to herself as possible. Then she walked down the street towards the combatants, ignoring without comment the demands of her escort.
There were only two Salamandri, with several others watching from the streets and doors around. She knew this street. Vaguely. Ordinarily it would be bustling with Divine Imperial citizens of all species. She looked up to the rooftops and tutted. Her fellow Roanians had risked the winds to get out of harm's way, and many of them now perched uncomfortably on various statues and gripped miserably to rooftiles. Several wingless Roanians looked nervously from upstairs windows. All of their glowing eyes betrayed anxiety, anger, and a certain exasperation. One of them...no...two...the vast majority were on their personal communications. Occasional snatches of conversation reached her ears.
"Hello? ICG? I'd like to report a spot of unrest."
"Plainly, if the cook can't keep dinner warm for another ten minutes..."
"I know I said I'd be back at the office, but there's some sort of fight in the...yes, someone's calling the IC...no, I can't fly there! I'd get crushed into a w...what do you mean, good?? 'So long as the reports get to your desk?!' I'm doing the...yessir."
"ICG? This is the Archlord Kolm. I'm a close personal friend of your Legion Commander, and I demand that someone..."
And, of course, they were preparing to watch the fight. She could see a couple of the more fortunate resting against a ballustrade, their eyes glowing (literally, of course) with bloodlust. If this had been the Games, a vendor would have turned up with sweet-insect shells and perhaps binoclonius steak.
She reconsidered. This was Imperial City. If this crowd remained stationary any longer, a vendor would turn up anyway. She glanced back at the Salamandri. Still circling, though the red one was starting to flex its claws. She quickly scanned for more civilians. Five felinoids hiding in an alleyway, cowering beneath their paws (though one of them had, on instinct, grabbed one of the tiny reptiles that scurried the city and swallowed it). One very confused Maarchan sitting at the other end of the road, its rocky fingers scratching its forehead with a grating noise. Several Roanians which had fled more quickly than they had thought were perched up on top of it. They, at least, were too petrified to relish the possible spilling of another sentient's blood.
One of her escorts grabbed her shoulder. "Lady Darsalin, please! It's not safe. We'll take a different route. Or at least let us..." She waved him away. Or, rather, she removed his arm from her shoulder and shot him with her own forcepistol, knocking him unconscious.
"Don't touch me." She sniffed. And then she stepped in between the circling Salamandri. A quick look around, first. The red salamandri was taller than the salamandri with the blue scales around its neck, yet wasn't as wide. Around them were at least a dozen more of the lizardthings, anxious by the way they had wrapped their tails behind. She couldn't tell if they were male or female, and didn't care. "What is the problem here?"
Red looked around, seeming to seek the voice. Then it turned down, its eyes widening when it spotted her. It exhaled sharply, a blast of warm air hitting her from its nose. "Roanian... good. Hss-ruk claimed my egg-brood was unfit to hatch and attempted to damage them." It spoke in thickly accented Galstandard. Salamandri, even moreso than humans, lacked the neccessary tolerance for vowels, inflection, contextual meaning (and glowing eyes, or at least carrying around a flickerbeam. Two, for preference) that was needed to speak Roanian. Though as they were citizens, there were no laws forbidding the attempt to teach them. And then again, there was no shame for the Salamandri in needing to speak Galstandard to the Roanians. The few Roanian attempts to speak Ssskhrk'csks had foundered upon the general failure of Roanian evolution to provide long, near-prehensile, tongues.
Lilian closed her eyes. Mating season. How she hated creatures that had mating seasons. She remembered the good old days of 50 years ago, when Alexander II (the bad Alexander) would forcibly round the Salamandri up and release them back on their home planet for the duration. But damaging an egg-brood? She turned to the one named as Huss-rk. "You know, we call that murder." She said, looking up at the beast and trying not to think about how if it decided it was annoyed it could thump her into non-existence with one movement of that spiked tail.
Huss-rk's tongue sprang from its mouth and a rumble of esses escaped from the Salamandr's jaws. "Ssshkkckhkckkssskckqq." She sighed.
Lilian's eyes gleamed and she turned to face one of the other lizards, all of whom were suddenly studying their feet very carefully. "Someone translate." When none seemed forthcoming, she pointed at random. "You." Behind her, Red made a lunging movement for Huss-ruk. She reached up and placed a hand on Red's chest. "Don't do that. My men will shoot you if you try one more thing." Red settled back on its haunches.
The selected Salamandr mumbled something in its own language, probably a string of cursewords, and then coughed. "Honourable Priest Huss-rk states first that while he understands the language from beyond the Light, as well as the language of the Roanians, Huss-rk's vows as a Priest to the...you would say SnakeSun, prevent Huss-rk from speaking either. He claims that Khs-hrsk's egg-brood is witchtainted, and..."
'How convenient for him that his vows forbid that.' She sighed and checked her watch. Already the ICG's sirens could be heard in the distance, and coming closer. Another five minutes was probably all that was needed. "Someone get that egg-brood and bring it here. Carefully. Huss-rk, the Imperial City Garrison will bring you both to the local Inquisition office. One of the Salamandri there can provide translation services, if...hey! Hey!" The one identified as Khs-hrsk had lunged forward for Huss-rk, snarling, and one of its claws had nearly sliced her in two. As it was, she was sent toppling, not a pleasant position for a Roanian of her rank. 'And now I'm going to need to spend an hour tonight getting the the mud preened from my feathers.' She sighed and snapped a finger at the huge rock sitting at the end of the street. "Seperate them, please."
It took a moment for the Maarchan to figure out that it had been called for. But then it lumbered into action, thudding down the street. The Roanians that had been using it as a perch squealed and grabbed onto the nearest outcrop they could find, unsure at this point if it was safer to hold on or let go. A little boy was enjoying himself, at least. Pulling on the lead that held him to his mother's belt (always a neccessity for Roanian children first learning to fly), he ran to the Maarchan's head and leaned over it, looking down at the two lizards, both of which had suddenly realised that something even larger than them was coming. The rock didn't make much of an effort. It just picked it up with two of its hands, holding them apart. They both went completely limp. Either this maarchan had dealt with Salamandri before and knew the spot on their necks that would send them to sleep, or its fingers were large enough to cut off oxygen to the brain. Either way. The maarchan still had a hand free to grab the boy on top of it when he had almost fallen from its place, carefully returning him to his mother (who had passed through the first three stages of shock in less than five seconds, and was now in a state of just blissful acceptance). Then it slowly leaned forward. Its voice was very, very slow and very gravelly, so much that it hurt Lilian's ears just to listen. "Do you know where the Census board is? They're taxing me as if I was a palace."
When the rumbles eventually died away, Lilian coughed a little. "Just...just keep going down this street..." She swallowed, quietly cursing the Census Board for taking any step that would bring one of these creatures from Derricks. Oh, how she pitied the captains on that ship. "It's the building that's...um...twice as tall as you. Knock, and someone should let you...should bring you the...should agree to do whatever you want provided you stop." She swallowed, curtsied, and ran back to her vehicle, her wings beating behind her to provide her with a needed burst of speed at that point. The other Roanians, seeing that they had been deprived of an afternoon's entertainment, quickly returned to the street, and so after a little while did the other citizens. The police pulled up at the end, and were surrounded by a small group. They quickly arrested all the Salamandri loitering around. She stayed back for a moment more to watch them nervously approach the small hill that had taken residence in one of the city's streets, a little smile on her lips at the sheer cruelty of what was happening in front of her. That moment's hesitation meant that she, like every other Roanian on the street, heard it when it began. They all looked up, and so too, lazily, did the felinoids when they decided this was interesting enough to care about. 'What in the Light is that?'