The Imperial Fortress
Tsar Steven I walked through the courtyard of the Imperial Fortress. All of Gallifrey was quiet, not unusual for a city with only two million people in it, mostly government employees who were out working at this hour. Yes, the Tsar enjoyed the silence... the peace. However, it was peace that made him restless. He had been used to the chaos of running a country, leading men and women into war. Peace? No. Peace on an international level maybe, but Steven Lee I was a man who could not sit still. Most political leaders of the Old Republic played golf while the populace suffered and enemies closed in on all sides. Not Tsar Lee, he who had led the Coup Against Corruption, could not waste one second to relax. That was part of the reason the people loved him. Where others were too lazy to do nothing, he was too energetic and was all but physically incapable of rest, especially when there were things going on. He even boasted, only half jokingly, that he had not slept for months at a time. Now, in relative calm, he knew not what to do. Then suddenly he remembered...
"Guards!" he said, "Bring me Yusuf Dzhugashvili, alive and without damage."
"Yes Your Majesty." the Captain of the Guard said, his face hidden by the solid red mask of his rank. The Guard marched back towards the Fortress, ready to carry out the Tsar's will with near instant results if at all possible. Other Imperial employees and agents moved to the wall, their backs flat against the wall, and rose their left hand in salute, which the Captain returned without stopping. He was in a hurry, although the Tsar seemed to not have any implications of haste in his order. He remembered what happened to the last Captain of the Imperial Bodyguard who did not complete orders in a satisfactory manner. He had received ten lashes with the Cat-o'-Nine-Tails then was sewn up and dismissed from service as a Guard. The current Captain had a family to feed and the pay of an Imperial Bodyguard, much less that of a Captain, was beyond incredible. He couldn't afford to lose this job. When he and his troop finally reached the Imperial Vehicular Storage Area And Repair Centre, the Captain immediately dispatched four groups of four to go into four different Imperial-Class Hummers. His own automobile leading the parade, they drove towards the other side of town.
The procession of black cars led the civilians to wonder just what exactly was going on. Hummers had horrible gas mileage, so they couldn't be going far. Most likely they would stay within the City Walls. Was someone being arrested? The Guard was being sent, so if they were being arrested, they would almost certainly suffer before they even reached the Tsar for trial. His Excellency was a compassionate, yet stern, man. His Bodyguard? Not so much. Civilians watched the procession go by, in absolute wonder.
The Dzhugashvili Home
"Elizabeth? Where's Sarah's backpack?" Yusuf asked. He had to drop his two daughters and one son; Catherine, Sarah, and Dominic, respectively, at school before he could go in to work. Thankfully, the Imperial Intelligence Bureau worked around individual employees' schedules. Now, if only he could find that Hammy The Hammetist backpack, they'd be ready to go.
"Have you tried looking on the stairs?" Elizabeth, Yusuf's wife, replied.
"You're right!" he shouted, a minute later, "It's there!" Then he walked into the kitchen and gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek, "Bye Sweetheart." Then he turned to his children, "Come on kids! Let's go!"
"Coming Daddy!" Catherine, the middle child, shouted, grabbing her lunchbox and bolting out the door into the car.
After about ten minutes of hustle and bustle, they children were finally in the car and everything was set. Yusuf cranked the ignition and backed the car out of the driveway before turning onto the road and driving off. His children, although at differing ages; ten, six, and three, all went to the same school: The Imperial Academy of the Magnificent Children of Gallifrey. Every major city and most minor cities was an Imperial Academy of the Magnificent, but it took special qualifications to get in, otherwise it's plain public schooling for them. His kids had made the cut, but only just. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the school, where the Protectors of the Educational Establishment would guide them to their classes. After much hugging and waving goodbye, he pulled away to get to work.
"Ah, dang it!" he shouted, "I was so worried about that pig backpack that I forgot my lunch!" He then turned around to head towards home. "Maybe I'll listen to the Imperial News Network. Surely something good is on." Dzhugashvili then turned on the radio and took out the children's CD and changed it to his preferred station.
Trouble in Colombia? Not anymore! We have with us today General Jack Andrews to discuss the almost complete annihilation of terrorism within the South American nation. General?
A haughty laugh, presumably from the General, came through the airwaves, "You talk as if the war against the guerrillas is already over! I assure you that while they are in heavy decline, we are still experiencing resistance. The guerrillas won't stop until we either destroy them or they become so weak that they eventually disband."
"Hmm, interesting General, what kind of resistance are we talking about?"
"Well, I'll tell you. Fighting a war in the jungle against highly trained guerrillas is not easy. Quite the opposite. We've lost thousands of good men in this war, but soon we'll drive the enemy out of that country, leaving it safe under a more stable government. Until then, we'll experience battle and skirmishes from timer to time."
"Have any skirmishes happened recently, General?"
"Well, there was one just last Tuesday. We had finally taken control of this countryside village, see, and while we were helping the villagers fortify the guerrillas attacked. We-"
Dzhugashvili turned off the radio when he reached his home. He recognized those black hummers immediately. The Tsar wanted to see him. Now.
The Imperial Fortress, A Half Hour Later
Yusuf walked into the throne room, flanked by the Imperial Bodyguard. They all stood while they awaited the Tsar to enter. Yusuf looked around, he had only been in the Fortress twice, and the throne room itself only once, before. But both times he had been in such a rush that he paid little attention. He looked upon the mosaics on the walls. They depicted historical battles such as Austerlitz and Gettysburg, scenes from Greco-Roman mythology, and there were statues of great rulers such as Napoleon Bonaparte, Julius Caesar, Catherine the Great, Alexander the Great, Peter the Great, Ivan the Terrible, Genghis Khan, an artist's rendering of Solomon, Emperor Qin, Shaka, and Sitting Bull. There were also paintings of scholars such as Sequoia and a bust of Socrates. The coloured glass windows showed scenes from the Coup and displayed why the leaders of the Old Republic were evil.
Finally, the band played Imperial March as the Tsar began to enter. "Yusuf," he began plainly, "Do you remember that conflict that we almost took part in, before the aggressor fled in fear of our military might?"
"Yes my Liege. I remember very well."
"I have a message for you to have delivered to the Queen of the Yuri Empire and her wife." he said, handing him a sealed scroll. "Pray you do not disappoint me, Dzhugashvili."
"If ever there is something I have failed to rio, My Tsar, it is to fail the Empire."
"Good. Now go! I wish to meet with the Queens of the Yuri Empire, so let it be written, so let it be done."
Yusuf then bowed and turned to walk out the door. He was to get aboard a helicopter and fly into the Yuri Kingdom and deliver this extremely important document. The seal was not to be broken until he reached the Yuri Kingdom and then he would hand the scroll to one of the Queens. This was going to be interesting, that went without saying.
