In Case of Emergency... IV! (Open, Read First Post!)

[Sunset]

Macisikan...

"Excited to make your interaction," the orb replied, a twisting bob in its sphere and trailing tendrils almost resembling a nod, a bow, or any number of other similar gestures. "This-self is Aosh; Us-self is Eiryuj - Those-Who-Drift. Confusion is natural! Your-Self would like to know where This-Self came so that You-Self might take me to Eiryuj? Most commendable, but unlikely by orders of individual magnitude. But will enjoy status as honored guest, with gracious thanks!"

Which wasn't very assuring, but assurances were not questions and of those Ychen had many and Aosh seemed to be ready with answers; "This-Self was hungry, and so drifted low to satisfy self in the dense stream. Many good things to eat there, and This-Self was quickly satisfied. This-Self about to return to upper layers, to enjoy company of Other-Selfs, but came across odd thing that This-Self never sense before! It New-Thing that V73-Selves remove from enclosed stream. This-Self drift closer; Aosh never see New-Thing or any other New-Thing before. This-Self sense New-Thing and then This-Self find itself in this enclosed stream!"

"This-Self excited," it wiggled again. "Few Other-Self leave the streams to find other streams. Only Fyieae-Self and Fyieae New-Selfs go to other streams, so This-Self much delighted! Fyieae New-Selfs leave many stories on the streams though, and Aosh listen carefully!"

----
To-Do:

None! So whoever posts next gets preferential treatment!

[Monfrox]

Stormkeeper AFB
2148 Hours

"Well...that's not gonna work..."

The teamleader walked up next to Ostrovsky and studied the capsule with her.

"What do you recommend?"

"Well...honestly? Controlled detonation if it is a nuke. We could probably take it into the Exclusion Zone. Not like the place needs more radiation fallout, but it'd be the safest bet. It still may not even be a nuke, though. Never seen something like this. Why go through all the trouble to make it look pretty if it's just going to blow up anyway? Not to mention there's clearly some sort of transparent property to the outer shell. See that? That shit's moving inside it." She pointed to the capsule and shined her flashlight off to the side to illuminate it slightly."

"Right. Well I'll go make the call. Keep the area locked down and see if you can't try anything else."

Katka gave a two-fingered salute and stepped back up, feeling the capsule again as she shone the flashlight on it, still trying to figure out just what it could be while she murmured "what the fuck are you" to herself. Meanwhile, Bushmaster's teamleader got on the radio for a quick check in.

"Bushmaster to Trailblazer."

"This is Trailblazer."

"How's things on your end, over?"

"Not good. This bunker complex is a maze. You guys got lucky with that one."

"Roger that."

"What'd you find out?"

"Not a lot. These are very unorthodox nukes, if they're nukes at all. Ostrovsky can't make heads of tails of the casing. She recommends we take them into the Zone and try a controlled detonation."

"A controlled detonation?!"

"You'll understand when you get there. We can't crack this thing open anywhere."

"Roger, well let's hope these aren't nukes then."

Trailblazer had been making their way into the complex for the past ten minutes, sending out people by two's to investigate hallways and rooms and check to see if they're clear until they found their objective: capsule number two. It was the same scene played differently. The team locked down the exits and surrounding area while the senior technician investigated the casing. It wasn't long until they were feeling as stumped as Ostrovsky was.

[Macisikan]

Lab 72, Station 5, Vi Hipi System, RFSEM
79 Days Post-Incident

[chagrin] “Translation matrices are still learning,” Ychan replied, “the more we talk and the more you talk, the better they will be. [contrition] Apologies for the misunderstanding. [informative] To us then, your name is Aosh fides de Eiryuj, unless you have an additional name designating clan or family. I am of the Birrin – that is the name of my kind. If I can draw your attention to this image-” another screen flickered on; this one displayed the hexapod from the front, and the side. Ychan seemed to be settling in.

“[explanatory] This particular enclosed stream was made for research and development. It is part of a nation that rules over many streams, some enclosed, some not, some vast, some small, some spinning in the void, some on orbs. [determined] A saying they have; the difficult we do immediately, the impossible takes a little longer. We will bring you home to your people, and you may leave stories on the streams of your home, of the Macisikani peoples,” Ychan could feel Savin’s stare from off-camera. The agent merely shrugged though; the psions believed this one meant no harm.

[thoughtful] “Now, we shall try to accommodate you better. I have those-who-build working on a device that will allow you to leave that small enclosed stream and travel; the air here is not what you breathe. [concern] We think it would harm you if you endured it for too long. [thoughtful] Most important a task that is; we will talk to you, exchange information, but we have to report our learning to The-Good-Mother’s-Grand-Oasis. They know we speak, and they will want to speak to you too…” Ychan’s voice trailed off.

[realisation] “You encountered the new-thing, the pod we took you out of – we have found another. Were there other new-things like that? Or was it just one? The other we found; it did not contain one of your people, but a person from a place-of-many-streams called Sunset. Have you heard of them upon your stream?”

[Sterkistan]

Sterkian Intergalactic Fleet: 08th Armada, Longevity's Bell
Outer Territory; 0.4 Lightyears from Lagr

---

Captain Bright just watched the creature run clean into the wall of it's pod. There were few sounds that made a hardened man like Bright physically shudder, but that crunch was one of them. Resembling the noise of a crewman getting crushed under machinery or one of those Section 04 guys going to work on the battlefield.
He approached the creature laying motionless on the ground, holstering his pistol slowly and crouching down next to it as the medics finished cleaning off the two engineers. Who would be violently scolded later for grossly breaking the uniform protocol.
"Get this thing to medical, find out if it's dead or not and follow the Unknown Contingency. I've got a situation to deal with."
He touched the creature lightly with his right hand and exited the quarantine tent and walked over to the first bay, where a group of Legionaries from the 14th Airborne Corps, the ship's resident legion were holding a perimeter. His helmet flipped up and folded to the base of his neck as he approached and he flexed his bionic hand, the touch of the creature being processed through his network as he walked, the computer working to find a match regarding the organic makeup of the creature's skin.

As he approached, two of the Legionaries saluted before turning back to the tentacled creature in the pod.
"Get me Hisheldinia, she'll be able to handle this."
One Legionary nodded, turning and running across the hangar bay to the door, breaking into a sprint as he ran down the hallway.
As Bright and the others waited, he looked over to Engineers Young and Davie, Davie was a sobbing mess. Crying on Young's shoulder as he shook his head at a passing medic. Relationships weren't outlawed in the Military, as encouraging teammate bonding meant they couldn't pick and choose what was right and wrong. But having a relationship did make losing the other harder in combat. And he'd seen thicker pillars than most crumble under such situations. He sighed, tapping his wrist, bringing up the holoclock and waited for Hisheldinia.

---

The Medics had taken the bipedal creature out of the hangar bay and transported it to the medical bay, carefully transferring it onto the scanner bed and activating it, confirming it was still breathing and stationing a MP Legionary at the door while they stood, waiting for the results. Other sick or injured patients of the medical bay tried to glean peeks at the alien through the door from their hospital beds. But they were shut down quickly by the MP, his icy gaze evident even through his helmet, the red checkers running in a strip down the left side of his grey armour. and the MP badge on his beret denoting his highly coveted position.

---

Bright turned impatiently as the soldier walked back out with Hisheldinia, a Sortna; a distinctly humanoid being, apart from the blue skin and pink eyes, as well as hair as dark as the night with a sliver of white running in front of her face, and the flowing black robe imprinted with the images of stars that shimmered as she moved.

Bright tapped his wrist symbolically, and she cast her eyes away, pouting. He needn't any words to communicate to her that she was late. And she didn't need any words to let him know they were on her time.
He sighed, pointing toward the pod.
"We've got a psionic, seems to place it's victims into a trance. Take a looks would you."
She looked over to the tentacled creature, nodding. Before approaching it, Bright nodding to one Legionary who went with her, taking her hand as they drew close.

He watched on, hoping that they weren't about to send their Sortna to tangle with a Voidwalker. Sortna's are incredibly resilient Psychokinetics, with extensive Telepathic abilities. But Voidwalkers are on a whole other level, rumoured to be birthed from black holes or black dwarf stars. Able to manipulate matter around them and possessing the intelligence of their previous lives. And if they made one mad, well they wouldn't even be able to let out a distress signal.

Hisheldinia cautiously approached the creature, shielding herself and the Legionary from mental attacks, she slowly crouched down at the entrance to the pod. Reaching out her free hand toward the creature and keeping it stationary, looking at it with friendly eyes and slowly motioning for it to come toward her.

[Ella2 6]

Squandered

Decay; the state of wastage.

It is the inevitable fate of all.

Each new beginning prophesies its own demise. Like a wildfire; regardless of how grand in magnitude it was, it would eventually burn out. And eventually, time will bring forth the end of all being.

For time was the ultimate test.

All that began will end, with time being the only witness. Time saw its rise to glory. Time saw its inevitable decline.
Time buried its decaying ruins.

Yet even time is not infinite.

With the fire that birthed space and time came the forth the whispers of its demise. The fire would extinguish itself.
It was only a matter of time.

And time is running out.

But despair is a pointless emotion. For the gears of the Cycle churn in eternal harmony, perpetuating an endless cycle of creation.

This is the cycle which all existence ascribes to.

This is the Infinite Cycle.

---

Elliannia Rules the Void

102/02/12150HE

Deep Space, The Ellian Sector
ESS Trigger Bullpup
The Bridge, The Command Deck
Captain Summer Ray Emmash

The Battle off Ascillia was a devastating affair. Some seven hundred thousand hulls of various affiliation littered the endless expanse, far from any celestial body or landmark. Here lay starsailors from across the Galaxy. Regardless of race or sex, they were all indiscriminately thrown into the lifeless void. Their vessels, like their livelihoods, torn to shreds. Ellians, Morimpans, Terrans, Neo Sapiens, Aulux, Stoux, and even a handful of Gel'Durks. In the end, they all stood equally on death's doorsteps.

The Trigger Bullpup advanced cautiously through the boneyard, as if careful not to disturb the resting souls that dwelt there. Salvaging operations were underway all around her, silently breaking up the debris and collecting the millions of bodies scattered across the vast battlefield. Several picket ships such as herself quietly patrolled the ruins, warding off unauthorized shipbreakers and outlaws seeking to tarnish the honour of the fallen. True warriors deserve a burial worthy of their sacrifice. No one may deprive them of this.

Not while Elliannia ruled the void.

Summer, a brown-eyed brunette, sat hunched forward on the command chair, her chin resting on interlaced fingers. She wore a meditative expression on her face, but in truth she was bored. Her boredom was shared by her crew, each man idle of thought and emotion, lazily nursing empty monitors or the air before them. But there was an even more fundamental sensation that permeated the entire vessel.

Guilt.

Saturating the recycled air, spreading its tendrils to every crack and crevice between the plasteel plates, was an overwhelming sense of guilt. But it was a peculiar sort of guilt. These starsailors had not participated in the Battle before them; not known the heroic crews or the brave vessels that perished here. But their sorrows were not for them. Rather, this prevailing sense of guilt stems from the very boredom they now exhibit: They are guilty of feeling bored.

Millions had died.

And their deaths were boring. Their legacy uneventful. Their stories unfulfilling.

It was this pervading guilt that drove the men on. The starsailors scrubbed the interior of the vessel to a shine with unfound vigour. The officers watched their unchanging screens as keen as hawks. The soldiers patrolled their stations with an undying spirit. The hands of the Trigger Bullpup had never been so alert.

But it was all for show.

The monotonic gloom had robbed the mind of its abilities, for it was merely the body that acted. Devoid of any thought or emotion. Inspired only by boredom and an overpowering sense of guilt.

And it all vanished with one word.

"Contact!"

The Observer directed his arm forward and his gaze back. "Warp signature. Ten light seconds ahead!" A red dot was marked on the main screen some distance before their heading, white text clearly designating it as an unidentified FTL signature.

Summer lept to her feet from sheer surprise of the unexpected call. "General quarters!" She declared, then turned her attention to the helm. "Turn us around before we crash into it!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" The Helmsman yanked hard on the yoke and pushed the main engine throttle forward, turning the rear thrusters off and activating the forward-facing strafe thrusters. These lighter hexagonal manoeuvring rockets dotted along the surface of the vessel quickly brought them to a halt some distance atop the object in question.

"Is it Morimpan?" One of the bridge officers asked. A valid concern. The fallen empire had lost a sizeable force during the engagement here. They could be back for vengeance, and the Dragon had always made a point to settle its vendettas promptly. But at the same time, the fish usually swam in schools. So the lone ping was unlikely to amount to Morimpan presence.

"Doesn't look like it," the Observer replied, noting the unfamiliar impression left in the fabric of spacetime by the object's entry. He quickly adjusted one of the sensors to zoom in on the article of interest. The optical feed responded smartly, revealing the presence of a field of debris. He frowned. "It looks like... Debris."

"Debris doesn't warp, Trey," the Helmsman told him. The Observer shrugged helplessly.

"Put it on the main screen," the Captain ordered. The clone complied, redirecting the visual data onto the large glass panel at the centre of the bridge for all to see. The Helmsman nodded slowly, confirming that what he was looking at was indeed debris. "Jennifer, can you identify the image?"

The hologram of a female clone clad in the Royal Starfleet's ceremonial dress appeared atop a small projector installed on the arm of the vessel commander's chair. "Negative, Ma'am," the AI replied, "The debris matches no known hull configuration in the vessel's database. I'm forwarding a request to E-LAWN servers as we speak." She paused slightly before continuing, as if in thought. "I'm also picking up something else in the debris field." The camera zoomed in even further, exposing three magenta capsules roughly the size of an average Ellian, slowly rotating on arbitrary axes.

"I'm assuming you can't identify these either," Summer said. The AI's avatar shook her head. The Ellian Captain returned to her seat in deep thought. "Any idea what it could be?"

"It could be anything," Jennifer suggested, "A bomb or an escape pod. Or some sort of memorial plaque send by one of the participants of the Battle. Maybe it's a drone ship. I have no idea till I have some more data to work with."

"Whatever it is, it's beyond me," Summer admitted, "Get a message up to Commodore Summer. He'll know what to do."

---

"No, I don't know what to do."

The reply was plain and simple, though no less frustrating.

Summer moved her hands in helpless arcs. "Then what am I supposed to do with them?" Her brother could only shrug.

Despite being siblings, the two of them had vastly different traits. Born two years apart, most people had a hard time believing that Summer was the older of the two. While Summer was short and slim, Ray was tall and equally narrow. The dull drab brown of Summer's features stood in stark contrast to Ray's blonde hair and turquoise irises. While this alone was nothing unusual amongst Ellians - for whom an individual carries enough colours in their genes to dwarf the rainbow - two years of extra growth and maturity usually saw the older sibling outperforming the younger in most regards. But Ray's mental and physical development seemed to have eclipsed his older sister's early on.

"I haven't a clue," he admitted, returning to the images on his own vessel's main screen. His eyes studied the image ceaselessly but to no apparent results. "When did you find them?"

"Almost an hour ago," she replied, "like I said, they came out of some sort of FTL with this debris field around them."

"Hum..." Stroking his chin, the Commodore paced back to his command chair and sat down. "And there's been no activity since?"

"None whatsoever."

"Then there probably isn't going to be anything else coming," he concluded, "Run what scans you can and forward everything back to E-LAWN if you haven't already. If that doesn't work..." He hesitated as if his next suggestion was unsound. "If that doesn't work, you might have to make physical contact... But that could potentially be dangerous..."

"We can handle it," she assured him.

"Very well," he agreed, if not reluctantly, "Just don't do anything stupid."

"I won't," she laughed. He bid her good health and severed the communications link, leaving her with the task at hand.

"Trey, how are we looking?" she asked. The clone at the workstation shook his head at the fruitless endeavour. "Keep scanning."

"Ma'am, we've been scanning this thing for the past hour," the junior officer protested, shifting in his chair to a relatively more comfortable position. She could tell he was tired. In truth, they all were. But duty preceded repose and theirs was a life sworn to service. They will soldier on.

"Then give it another hour," she ordered, then continued in a softer tone, "Perhaps you could use a break."

"I appreciate it, Ma'am," the clone sighed, "but I'll wait till the end of my rotation." Summer signalled her understanding with a nod. He quickly queued several more deep, penetrating scans on the elongated spheres and their accompanying debris, and arranged for whatever data that could be obtained from the survey to be sent back to Starfleet High Command via Jennifer's communications network.

Meanwhile, Summer directed her focus elsewhere. "Someone go wake Pronto and tell him to get the marines ready for EVA deployment."

"Yes, Ma'am!"

[Sunset]

Monfrox...

Someone had to touch the thing, right? A slip somewhere, a casual wipe of a bare hand across the shell... Nope - Gloves all around.

The location of the second capsule made things tricky. It was less that the pods were heavy - a pair of technicians carefully pushed the pod back and forth to gauge the weight, only to find it surprisingly light - but that there was a tangle of torn beams and crumbled concrete above. Which raised significant eyebrows; The collective estimate of the pod's weight was somewhere around a hundred sixty to a hundred eighty kilograms or just over two times an average man's weight. How that was enough to land on the earthen bunker and then plunge through three floors of old yet viable concrete...

That just didn't make any sense.

It also presented a problem if the goal was to move the devices from their present location. A forklift would collapse the roof, a line from the helicopter could get tangled either in the wreckage or the forest canopy above, and brute force could result in casualties if the capsule was explosive and their shifting jarred it to action. In the end the technicians wrapped it in a cargo net and - with the aid of a block and tackle as well as an extensive length of rope - they hauled it to the surface. Then strong backs carried it to a clearing where it was attached to a helicopter by a long cable for transport.

If there were any surprises waiting they didn't show themselves during the process but there was one anomaly and then another: Despite being loaded in a cargo sling that would presumably allow them to roll and shift, both pods remained perfectly upright even when they were lowered again to the ground and the nets removed. This was odd, but odder still were the results when the disposal technicians re-examined them. In the Zone, Ostrovsky would have expected the area around the capsule to be a radioactive hot spot, but according to her Geiger counter...

It wasn't.

Even just a few feet away the background radiation spiked but even as she watched, it began to slowly drain away though it might take days to reach the negligible levels she'd measured within a meter of the strange purple device. What on Earth was it?

----
To Do:

Macisikan
Sterkistan
Ella2 6

[Sunset]

Macisikan...

"Most gracious," Aosh swirled in place, a slow spin that didn't seem to put him - it? - anywhere other than right back where it started. Then again, it was hard to tell; The thin wrap of muscle-like tissue that made up the Eiryuj's skin tended to act something like the 'dazzle' paint scheme of old surface naval vessels and it was hard to keep track of which side was which. If there was even a side. "This-Self thanks you! This-Self has no concepts of family or clan; This-Self is This-Self, but of Spawn-Self though This-Self does not know Spawn-Self. Would you like This-Self to spawn? This-Self would need nutrients, but would be honored to spawn for you!"

"But This-Self has seen the star rise and the star set, but has not heard of this other place You-Self name Sunset," it continued, working through the questions as it created answers. It wasn't the fastest process, with each word seeming to take seconds to construct, "Aosh-Self has heard many stories, but breath of Self not enough to contain them all. If you could visit Eiryuj-Place, you could taste all the stories on the streams but you cannot. This-Self does not know where Eiryuj-Place is. But This-Self could tell you where Eiryuj came from!"

Which resulted in a long story that related how the Eiryuj had evolved on another world - the high atmosphere of a gas giant - and how their world have eventually become unstable, forcing the Eiryuj to make the long trek to another similar planet. This didn't actually tell anyone where the Eiryuj had lived, though perhaps there was a clue in there somewhere...

----
To Do:

Sterkistan
Ella2 6

[Macisikan]

Unenhanced organic eyes would have been confused; the augmented optics of the vocs and the good doctor were not, though Ychan was vaguely amused.

[slight alarm] “I assure you; spawning is not necessary, I… the thing is that we are ill-equipped to deal with a child. We… there is a great deal of connection among our peoples between what you could call spawn-self and spawned-selves. [decisiveness] I shall summon a social expert, who can give you further information on these matters; it will be vital to your understanding of our nation.”

Ychan and his assistants listened avidly to the Eiryuj’s story; it was, of course, recorded, and passed to others to parse and analyse for clues.

[great interest] “This tale of exodus you tell us is most compelling,” Ychan said. “We, of course, have questions…” there then followed a lengthy series of supplemental questions – some seemed obviously related to the stellar characteristics, others less so. Eventually Ychan broke it off to change the subject.

[pleased] “Ah, here is the prototype design,” a screen now displayed a droid of sorts; a six-legged circular platform, with a plastene bubble attached to the top. It had a distinctly insectoid cast to it. “This device would allow you to leave that contained stream, in your own mobile contained stream, and move around; the streams here are not conducive to your form of life. We will make modifications and improvements to further assist you.”

[Monfrox]

Stormkeeper AFB
2235 Hours

The solution was simple, on paper. Get the containers out of the wooded area and back to Fort Amber. Readings were taken everywhere with the geiger counter but nothing out of the ordinary popped up, which was a strange thing in and of itself. The solution Corporal Ostrovsky had suggested required the transportation of the capsules a great distance into the Exclusion Zone, but something had tipped off her team lead. More specifically, how alien Katka had typed the capsules in the first place. Truly, why make it pretty if it's supposed to blow up? It was decided that they would be inspected firsthand and then shipped out. It was a risk, but something about these things was just...off.

So the team secured the perimeter while transport trucks came in from Fort Amber. Both capsules were loaded into a special M977A4 that had a lead-lined enclosed cargo body after they were taken out of the forest while both teams piled into troop trucks. It had been a bit of an ordeal, but it was far from over. The ride back was long and many were talking about what they had just picked up. Rumors were flying hard, and far. Ostrovsky was ordered to drive the M977A4 to the quarantine area of the Fort as she had to give her report directly to the specialists that would be analyzing it and working with them. Though she was only a Corporal, she had been passed up for promotion more than a few times and was going on her late twenties. She turned on some music for the long drive back.

By the time they got back, she was finding it hard to focus on driving. She was tired, and the suit wasn't helping. A few times she barely missed the turn but was able to make it in the nick of time. When they arrived, she watched the M35's drive off to the barracks area and envied her teammates who would be getting out of their CCP suits soon and probably taking a shower. Well, hopefully it wouldn't be the last one. She pulled the truck around and backed it into the secure loading dock, where it was sealed into a protective corridor. Katka hopped out and came around, giving her short and sweet version of the debriefing to the specialists in white chemical suits and gas masks as she watched them unload the capsules and take them into the observation area where they started to run tests on them. Well...

"Well what?"

"Well..." One of the specialists sat in the protective booth, monitoring the equipment readings while Ostrovsky stood inside the protective area and sweated in her gear.

"What is it, guy. Am I standing next to a nuke or not?"

"Well...we're getting very weird readings from what we can see. It's...it's not like anything we've ever seen before. It's almost alien..."

"Hey, poindexter. Get your head out of the laptop for a minute and tell me what it is."

"Well...we don't know. But whatever it is, it's not giving off anything harmful. No chemical traces, no intense radiation, no microscopic biologicals...I don't know what else we can do here..."

"So if this thing is safe to be around then?"

"Well...for now it is. It could still have-"

"If this thing wanted to release any chemical weapons, it'd have done it by now. I'm getting out of this sauna."

"Corporal I-"

"I'm getting out of this sauna, Lieutenant Pavlin."

The man sighed as Katka stripped off the outer protective layer or her CCP suit and took off the majority of her equipment. While more tests and readouts were being made to process into the reports, Katka put her CCP suit in a neat pile with all of it together. Her BDUs were dark gray, which hid any sweatspots on the uniform fairly well. She put the K6-3 on her head of short blonde hair and stared at the capsule with her blue eyes that had a scar under the left one that seemed to be in line with one across the middle of her left ear. She held her OTs-12 and looked all around the capsule. Maybe it had someone inside? Now that was a trip. Who would want to be in one of these? No one in their right mind, in her opinion. Just to humor her judgement, she rapped the back of her knuckle in a slight knock on the thing. Was anyone home? Probably not, but she wondered what kind of explosives they'd need to break through something like this, or maybe just drill it. Something would be done, she was sure.

[Sunset]

Sterkistan...

With the alien secure on the scanner bed, the first question was quickly answered but followed by dozens more. It was alive, though likely unconscious. Slow, steady breaths turned thick and cumbersome and for a small moment there was a panic that it might be dying until an astute observation of it's physiology resulted in the bed being set at a steep incline so that it was practically standing up. This both corrected its breathing and enabled easier observation, as well as providing the first revelation.

Upon placing it's weight on its feet, the thick artiodactyl legs had locked to support it (near) upright in the manner of many species of birds and a few grazing mammals. That conclusion was backed up as the scanner revealed its inner workings, most of which were definitely not human though perhaps first a few outside observations. The being was covered in short, thick hair over skin of a similar deep brown color and this in turn had various patches of dirt, dust, and plant debris as though it had been moving against or through foliage not long before. There were also traces of the fluid that had filled the capsule still to be found and these, along with the dirt and debris, were carefully cleaned off and isolated for further analysis.

Judging by the cranial volume, it was likely sentient and a complex nervous system spread through its entire body but with a high concentration of nerve structures through both the singular trunk and the three thick lip-like appendages at the end. Another large bundle of nerves were observed below the shoulder blades and nipples were found there among the hair, while a uterus-like structure led to the quick conclusion that this example of the species was female. An external pouch below the nipples was likely for carrying very young offspring and so the quick suggestion was to call them 'Kangaroos' until a more appropriate name could be determined.

Both the tail and the three toes were thick and dexterous, leading to the suggestion that both could be used to supplement the trunk as secondary manipulators. The heavy leathery pads on the toes were scarred and re-scarred, a good indication of its preferred habitat aside from the dirt and vegetation. A bit more difficult but an examination of the teeth led to the easy conclusion that it was an exclusive herbivore without even a hint of tusks or incisors.

This was all well and good as shortly she began to stir...

====

Whatever it was, it did not seem to want to move from its spot in the shadows despite Hisheldinia entreaties. Coiled, half-flat tendrils rippled and flowed but they did not seem to avoid her touch but instead the light that penetrated into the capsule from the bay outside. All the while its thoughts beat against hers, but there was no strong feelings of malice there. Instead there was a collage of feelings and emotions, a story as it were. It was trying to say something but not in a straightforward manner.

After a while, this barrage stopped and it stayed quiet, occasionally moving a tendril but not even attempting to breach her barriers.

----
To Do:

Ella2 6
Macisikan
Monfrox

[Sunset]

Ella2 6...

Sometimes all the sensor sweeps in the universe won't tell the real story so much as an up-close look-see, but there were tantalizing bits of this and that that came up on the Triggered Bullpup's sensors. The spectronomy was particularly interesting; The pods were made of something, of course, and that something looked more organic than metallic with good doses of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen present. In the parlance of the chemical engineer these were known as CHON, and they collectively made up most of most biological life. That didn't mean they were particularly alive, but they were probably alive - and what's the difference when it comes down to it?

They were also warm, as space goes, which was also pretty strange. In fact they were right around twenty-two Celsius, which seemed reasonable until another check was run against their mass, which turned out to be in a range between one hundred three and four hundred seven kilograms. That labeled them as containers of some sort, though they were surprisingly opaque to radar and other such 'penetrative' sensors. Shielded containers then. But that temperature wasn't going up or down which suggested there was some internal mechanism at play - some heating element or some reason for them to maintain that temperature. Given the laws of thermodynamics and the sensitivity of Bullpup's sensors, this should have meant they would be seeing a slow reduction in mass, especially of the heaviest, but this was not happening.

Now, it was possible - plausible, even - that this system was very efficient, but it would be an odd system. Why not insulate instead? Why toss all that energy out into the abyss when it could be used for better things?

Especially since the debris around it - thick tubes between a half and a quarter meter in diameter of a yellow-brown and yellow-orange color that split and branched where they were not sheared off like the limbs of some ancient tree hacked apart - that debris was cooling. Checking the logs, it was noted that when it first entered real space it was hot - well, again, hot for a spaceship - and now it had cooled to somewhere near zero. If one was to use thermals alone it would have nearly disappeared against the galaxy beyond.

Entirely normal for wreckage.

Which suggested that the capsule-shaped objects were not, and so the train of logic left the station and pointed directly towards some kind of manned environment. Or at least one where someone or something - the capsules being plausibly alive - wanted to keep something inside possibly alive. If they were, they were doing a darn good job of it too. Close examination of the highest resolution images showed that they were flawless - not a scratch, mar, ding, or dent could be seen despite the debris both around and overall surmounting them.

On a whim, someone tried talking at them. Various frequencies, various modulations; Even a blinking light but there was all of nothing. If they wanted to talk or could talk, it wasn't in any language that they understood.

By this time the Marines were suited up and ready - maybe it was time to go knock and see if anyone answered the door...

----
To Do:

Macisikan
Monfrox

[Caer Lleon]

"I will have your license if a word of this reaches the press." Richard rose to his feet. "Pack him up for transit. I want him on a flight to Gatwick Military in less than an hour." When the healer opened her mouth, he snapped his fingers together in front of it. "For the good of the Kingdom, woman! GO!" His voice raised, which he immediately regretted. Even the close and easy access to the Queen could not distract journalists from a shouting official.

"First Minister! Christopher Eccleston, ABC! You promised a full account of events here. Do you think you've... "

"Mister MG! Curtis JJ Quinqaginta! MMT News! What is your government doing to reassure my viewers and calm markets?"

"Vincent CC Cesar, mon premier, du Le Monde et Plus. How would you like to explain your decision not to inform the embassies of this event? When were you planning to tell La République et l'Empire? Does this have anything to do with..."

"First Minister! Are you avoiding the question?"

"Who is that man? The people have a right to hear the truth, First Minister!"


There was a momentary relief from shouting, as the Queen-and-Empress crossed between her subjects and her Lord High Treasurer to board the same flight the injured man had been loaded onto. She stuck her head out, and pointed at a couple of the journalists. "You and you. With me, please." The fortunate print journalists scrambled up the stairs. If they were disappointed that Edward was still unconscious and kept largely separate, they wouldn't get the chance to say so.

When her carrier lifted off and flew away, the Prime Minister was now cornered. Fortunately, he was cornered against his own transport. "Unfortunately, the situation is too complicated to make a public statement at this time. You have my word that all authorities will be contacted, and we, I, am working to ensure that the public's right to knowledge is fully pursued. I will state, however, that there is no known threat at this time."

"First Minister! What about a week ago? What was in the third pod?"

Richard's expression grew brittle. "...unfortunately, there was an incident when our welcoming party opened the third pod, and its occupant was put under heavy sedation. But I want to stress that there there is no indication that these were a planned event, that more pods will be expected, or that there is anything to be concerned about. As soon as we know more, you will know more. It is my intention to call a special session of the Round Table at Westminster, which will be open to the press, and then have the Imperial Round Table meet as soon as practical."


En Route to Gatwick

With the print journalists now taking statements from her aides, and her interview finished (they wanted to say that they had heard her speak, and take pictures. Not ask her anything. Annoying, sometimes, but helpful at others) the young Queen had let herself into the medical care room, with the same insouciance that had led her onto the plane in the first place. She smiled at the busying doctors and their tests. She'd had hopes of being a nurse once, before Starfall. The dreams of a princess who planned to be a regular woman.

Edward, for that was his name, she had been told. The abstract made actual. He was attractive, she noted idly, even through his injuries and sedation. He was also now nude, and in an absent way she thought that he was the first man she had seen naked in, as it were, the same room. Though she didn't see much, beneath the privacy sheet that covered his abdomen. It was just the fact of his nakedness.

Arianell wondered what her First Minister had been shouting about. He would tell her soon, she assumed. He hated to be asked, and so told her things. A pleasant situation. But at the moment, there was little for her to do on that score. Any score. It was quite beneath her dignity as Queen-and-Empress, she believed, to do anything. Her will was the will of her people, and that meant her will should support the will of her people. And her people loved her for it.

Perhaps not as she wished them to, but then, there was no one left to love her in the one way, and none, yet, to love her in the other way.

Edward was quite handsome. She sat by him now, feeling it was the most useful place for her. She was in a pleased mood, an almost alien experience... she could quite grow used to having that bird make her laugh. She felt as light as when she flew... "A-ah..." Some of the sheet had fallen, perhaps in her movement towards the chair. She reached out and tugged it gently into place, then stopped when her finger brushed his skin.

Were her eyes not golden? And was she not of the blood of Nimue? Of Vivien? And of the line of Pendragon? He suffered. She could see it, feel it. His dreams were terrible, his pain was terrible... he looked as she felt, half the time. He had lost much. But she had none of her first minister's fears or doubts. This was a man before her. She could see that. Even if she was blind, her body would know the truth of him. He was a man of her people, not some formless alien. A man, as she was a woman.

A man in pain, as she was a woman of golden eyes and the ancient blood. She had never done it before, though she knew the way. It was dangerous, some said. And it was not her place as Queen; the healing arts should be left to healers, who are practiced... But... she was already doing it. "Bring me a glass of water." Came the command, that shocked her as it shocked the doctors, who seemed dubious, but obedient. "The hands of a queen are worth a thousand healers, and I will put them to work today."

The water was brought to her, and she took a drop, and sprinkled it upon herself. Once on her forehead, once upon her bare navel. Once upon her right breast, once upon her left breast. She did not know the words, (or that there were none, perse) but she said her own nonsense phrase, then she took a sip of the water, then spat it in a very ladylike fashion onto a handkerchief. Slowly, she traced a cross on him, from his forehead, over his stomach (her cheeks flushed, to the quiet but audible titters of the nurses. Well, she was intruding...), from his right nipple to his left nipple (Goodness... ). Nothing.

She rested her hand there, now, feeling his sedated heart beat. "Drink of me, and you will be healed." She finally said, taking another sip of the water, swallowing, licking her lips nervously. For the very first time, she leaned forward and kissed a man. The fact she was doing it was such shock to her that it took her a moment to realize that something had changed, that the kiss was being (instinctively, if not entirely certainly) returned, that a hand had reached up and taken hold of her shoulder that his face had woken, and his eyes seemed confused, perplexed, upset and entirely surprised.

Until she did, and she stepped back, holding her hands up. "It worked! You're awake! I...I..." And then she remembered herself, and drew herself up to her full, rather unimposing height, trying to ignore that her breath was coming quickly, trying to forget that her nearly-skin-tight dress wasn't meant for this (at least, not without the prospect of being removed from it). "Good. I am Queen-and-Empress...Regina et Imperatrix... Arianell Constanta Aurelia Pendragon, and I have some questions for you."

It was rather harder to ignore that her cheeks were bright red, that she had been watched in behaving this way... "...somewhere else. Yes. You will come with me somewhere else." She froze, then thawed. "Once you're dressed, I mean. Um... we... we do have a... um...."

"We've had a few simple clothes made, but the First Minister wanted him..."

"Well, I want to take him somewhere else. My stateroom. Yes. He'll be out of trouble there. No reason to keep him here now that...I..." Snogged him back to life? Christ, the penance...



Elsewhere, an entirely different conversation was going on. "Yes, it's an emergency session, because it's an emergency. Get your bony arse off the slopes and bring it back to London! Tonight, mind you!" Sir Richard slammed his phone down and touched his forehead, feeling the veins pulse. With a grunt he opened another line. "I want EVERYONE working on this! Tell me what those pods are. What we can learn from them. Where they come from! Dismantle them if you must. AND FIND ME THAT ALIEN. AND ANYONE WHO CAN'T FIND BE DOING EITHER OF THOSE THINGS BETTER BE TRYING TO GET INFORMATION FROM THAT BIRD, AND DIGGING UP IF WE HAVE ANY DELUERTES AROUND!"

[Sunset]

Macisikan...

Aosh swirled, tentacles flying outwards until the Eiryuj resembled a blood-horror carnival ride, "Much gratitude! Such as this would take many rotations to grow on Eiryuj-Stream!"

With a slow flutter of delight, it began to puff its way around the displayed contraption and examine it from every angle until it was satisfied, "Self-Stream-in-Stream will be fun. This-Self would enjoy traveling on Stream-in-Stream but only one Ee'jeelaqj-Stream and This-Self not Spawn-Self to Fyieae-Self and is told too young to go with Fyieae-Self. Now Aosh-Self have Self-Stream - will tell own stories on Eiryuj-Stream!"

"Will it be few rotation-parts for Self-Stream to be completed? And can Aosh-Self name it?! Aosh-Self will name it after place where Aosh-Self first had thoughts..."

Which, by the translator's approximation, worked out roughly to 'Where Two Streams of Slightly Different Gases Came Together And a Small Collection of Food Could be Found in the Eddy."

"...then This-Self will go to talk to The-Good-Mother’s-Grand-Oasis. This will be interesting story," it declared.

----
To Do:

Monfrox
Caer Lleon

[Sunset]

Monfrox...

In the back of her head Katka still expected something else; A hollow ring, a dull thump. Instead there was the soft squish of skin on glass and not even a tremor of something reverberating. That was good enough for another sigh, though again in the back of her head. She lifted her hand but not everything followed. For a half-instant the shadows of her hand remained before spreading out into another shadow, palm down and fingers wide against the surface. But those weren't her fingers. There were too few fingers and too many thumbs with more joints than there should be.

Then the shadow vanished and for that half-instant she was tempted to shake her head, to blink away the illusion caused by too many hours inside the suit, but instead she watched as an orange yellow line crept through the translucent shell, forming an outline of where her hand - the shadowy hand that was not hers - had been. The blink of an eye later and she knew this was all happening in slow motion, the movements of those around her turned to molasses as the seconds ticked by in years.

"...it's armed! Move!"

The area was de-assed with the quickness. Which meant the exact details would have to be assembled later, but the long and short of it was that the yellow-orange hand filled in with a harsher yellow flowing from bottom to top. Then the purple fluid inside began to swirl away into millions of invisible pores in the shell, gone in as long as it takes to read the sentence. A darkness remained but the yellow-orange hand disappeared, spreading out along invisible circuits into a hard-angled rectangle under the shell before this too melted away along those lighted splines. The thickness of the shell disappeared into itself and now there was nothing but the darkness.

In an instant this too had flowed away, disappearing into the air as though it was a vaporous apparition and leaving behind an irregular form slumped against the back wall of the now hollow shell...

----
To Do:

Caer Lleon

[Macisikan]

Ychan felt his mouthparts open slightly in surprise – he wasn’t sure if that was a natural response, or something he’d picked up from humans.

[slight surprise] “I… yes, of course you can name it,” he said after a moment of silence. [appreciative] “Bounty-of-the-river-junction is a lovely name – I am glad you like the device. It will take mere hours to constr… are you familiar with the concept of hours? [explanatory] We divide each rotation into twenty-four equal parts, which are hours; each part subdivides into sixty-sub parts which are minutes. Each sub-part divides into sixty sub-sub-parts, which are seconds,” a button was pushed somewhere and an old analogue clock was displayed, its second hand ticking around. “The little thin bar here; it moves once a second. The long thin bar will move once a minute. The short thick bar will take an hour to move between the big thick markings,” in the control room, Savin tried not to laugh as the Birrin explained the clock. Ychan fixed him with an eye and added “[wry amusement] It is a strange human thing; I know it is counterintuitive – they do everything else in bases of ten. They are an odd little people. Nice, but odd. [reflective] My people originally used a different timekeeping method, but that is lost to us here…” he trailed off for a brief moment.

[thoughtful, considering] “I suspect you will remain with us for a few more rotations of our time – that we may smooth the translation matrices-” Savin left the room at that “-and we will also need to give you some instruction. I believe that there will be important persons for you to meet; we here are first and foremost seekers-of-knowledge-” it was mostly true, even if some were unorthodox about it “-but they are leaders. There are different ways to talk, different things to say; it is complicated. And, of course, working out the best way for you to tell bounty-of-the-river-junction to move.”

Savin, meanwhile, was talking in the next room to one of the linguists; couldn’t they try to tidy up the translations? It wasn’t easy parsing what Aosh was saying – and he knew they were getting the reverse translations wrong.

---

Meanwhile, at the Diplomatic Habitat in Tichel, Ambassador Hendricks’s communicator beeped; an urgent message from the Throneworld.

Official Communiqué Classification: Confidential From: Office of the Vice-Minister, Vice-Ministry for External Affairs To: Robert Hendricks, Ambassador of the Colonial Republic of Earth Subject: Conveyance of Message To Ambassador Hendricks, greetings and salutations; I am writing to you with regards to a request that the Imperial Federal Government has for the government of the Colonial Republic of Earth. His Serene Majesty’s Imperial Federal Government formally requests that you pass the missive at Attachment A to the Government of the Republic of Sunset at your earliest convenience. If the government of the Colonial Republic of New Earth is able to render assistance in this matter, we would be most appreciative. Kind Regards, A. Trivkaal ___________________________ Sir Ardri Trivkaal His Serene Majesty's Vice-Minister Ministry of External and Security Affairs Imperial Federal Government Realm of the Federated Star Empire of Macisikan

Official Communiqué Classification: Confidential From: Office of the Vice-Minister, Vice-Ministry for External Affairs To: The Foreign Minister, or equivalent such official, of the Republic of Sunset Subject: Repatriation To whom it may concern, greetings; I am writing to you with regards to the repatriation of certain individuals to their home systems and worlds. His Serene Majesty’s Imperial Federal Government recently came into the possession of debris that we presently understand resulted from a hyperspace accident. Among the debris were two capsules, one containing one Second Lieutenant Trinya Falk of the Republic of Sunset Sunset Exploration Command. The other contained an individual of the Eiryuj race, named Aosh. His Serene Majesty’s Government, with the assistance of the Colonial Republic of New Earth, was able to repatriate 2nd Lt. Falk to the Republic. We are in possession of information that at least one other national of the Republic of Sunset has also been transported out of the Republic due to these capsules. Given that the Republic has a dedicated exploration command, and given that the activities of these capsules have seemingly affected citizens of the Republic more so than any others, we have inferred that the Republic would be best placed to assist us in handling a delicate matter; we therefore formally request the assistance of the government of the Republic in repatriating Seri Aosh fides de Eiryuj to his homeworld. We await your response. Regards, A. Trivkaal ___________________________ Sir Ardri Trivkaal His Serene Majesty's Vice-Minister Ministry of External and Security Affairs Imperial Federal Government Realm of the Federated Star Empire of Macisikan

[New Dornalia]

New Dornalia...

"The Sh'Dos? Oh, no," Stephen shook his head, over-emphasizing his answer with eyes closed and a wiggle to his shallow cheeks. "Absolutely not. Well, perhaps, but I do not think so. You see, the escape route I took from the collapse of my former business enterprise was of a silver color, while the other that crashed through your - what was it?"

"Kentucky Fried Panda."

"Yes - that's the one. No, it was purple, wasn't it? Silver and purple, world of difference, yes? A6A9AA versus D9017A. A continent apart. That and the silver capsule was properly equipped with a tanning light and some light reading, though it lacked a properly stocked bar and I - I! Doctor Stephen Ambrose! - was forced to subsist on nothing more than domestic single malt. Quite the poor service - I'll have to bring it up with the management, of course. But before you think otherwise," he pointed towards Mr. Gunderson, "I was not driving under the influence."

"In fact, I was being driven. I don't drive - Me? The thought of a proper gentleman driving himself anywhere," he gave a little snort. "No. To clarify, the capsule I escaped inside was not the capsule I arrived in. I'd expect..."

For the longest time - at least as far as the talkative old man were concerned - Doctor Ambrose went utterly silent, his jaw moving under his hand as he rubbed it back and forth across his chin. Then his finger was in the air and he leap to his feet, stalking back and forth in a tight oval as he stared at the ground, "Brilliant, Ms. Kournikova - absolutely brilliant! But only one way to prove it," he reached into the jacket's inner pocket and pulled out a communicator.

Zhang's Suits - Always the Best. Always.

Deftly he navigated the menu before holding the device up to his ear, "It's ringing - good. Now... Hello?"

There was a voice on the other end and for a moment everyone but everyone stared at him as he exchanged words with the unknown voice on the other end, "This is Stephen, yes. Just fine, thank you. No. I find myself in..." He covered the microphone and turned to the Detective, who mouthed the answer to him as he relayed it to the unseen party, "Dredrickstown, Obregon Major, New Dornalia. And I... Wait - you are? Already? How long? No... I should have expected it, really. Yes, I'll be there, but," he looked around the gathered audience, "We may perhaps require additional rooms. Yes, I'll see you there. Sharply, right. Goodbye..."

With a flourish he ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket before turning to Detective Kournikova and drawing her to her feet, "The gods have once again smiled on me, it seems. That was Miss Seventeen, who was just this very hour released from custody and is already on her way here. Wheels within wheels; When she arrives, we shall be able to ascertain her role in the conspiracy by means of several key words implanted in her subconscious by methods I decline to discuss in front of a lady. If she too was taken advantage of - which I expect to be the case - then we will proceed post-haste to my former abode."

"There the answer will be simple to come by. If, as I suspect, the escape capsule is still in its former location then we will have indeed confirmed that the tropical island I found myself marooned on in the distant past - one million years ago - is now the same moon Minamoto where the treacherous Miss Nineteen lured me as part of whatever plot the Sh'Dos imagined for themselves! You see," he answered her incredulous look with a short explanation, "It is my suspicion that the escape capsule - silver, not purple - then remained on said island for the next million years until it found itself, by means of a loop in time, back in the proper place for me to use it to make my escape. Thus it will now be there again!"

"Which means," he turned on his heel and headed for the door with all the gravity of a great ship under steam, "We must depart! To the spaceport, where Miss Nineteen will be waiting for us within the hour!"

----

"Well Captain Tanaka, it's been nice knowing you..."

As stated, a ship was at Kennedy Station to pick her up but as soon as she'd seen it all of the pep went out of her voice. Instead Trinya stared at it as they passed, and in particular at the name and registry number written across the side of her warp nacelles. 'She' was RDF-Dogana, an Equinox-Class Heavy Cruiser and possessed of a sleek yet lurking lethality from one end to the other. How the big ship had managed to beat his own to dock was a good question, but the Captain was given the immediate impression that any questions would instead be answered by his temporary guest.

Her pending execution wasn't even granted a temporary stay to enjoy the sights and sounds of the station. Instead a shuttle was dispatched from the cruiser to meet his ship at her berth and while the exotic wares of the Realm flowed out of one side, the Lieutenant was summoned to the other. The airlock opened and Captain Tanaka could swear he was looking at her double, though closer in age to his own than hers.

"Captain Tanaka?" Though there wasn't much of a question in the woman's tone. Clasping her hands behind her, she answered her own question with a nod, "Admiral Falk, Republic Defense Force. Thank you for returning my daughter to me. Trinya, if you have everything;" Any hint of warmth had been squeezed out of her expression; "There's a situation developing and we need to go. Now."

----
To-Do:

Monfrox
Caer Lleon
Macisikan

OOC: SIgnificant portions of this post originated in a discussion with Sunset. Pt 1 of 2, Mack's post is next to address.

IC:

Dornieland

The whole scene was moving along quite, quite quickly. Well, maybe too quickly for the tastes of Detective Kournikova and the ever-growing crowd of federal agents. Kournikova tried to flag down Dr. Ambrose. She could be heard going, “Wait--WAIT! Doctor! You can’t just--”

But of course, Dr. Ambrose did just leave the building. He moved with a surprisingly agile alacrity, walking and talking like a man from one of those political thrillers on the TV. The federal agents of course, tried to ask their questions. But as far as Kournikova was concerned, the good Doctor was damned determined to get out of dodge, and the only thing letting her keep up with the good Doctor was her hunters’ instincts, honed by generations of her ancestors surviving in post-Apocalyptic Russia as survivalists and brigands and further shaped by hard training in the police academy.

The next thing Kournikova knew, Dr. Ambrose greeted the crowds with a wave and soon got back into the Sheriff’s Department SUV. The other Sheriff’s Department men leapt inside the SUV, and Kournikova followed as she walked towards the SUV. Her face was stern, and she sighed a sigh of annoyance. She called out to the Doctor whilst on the steps of the police station, shouting:

“Doctor, I really think we’ve got more questions to ask--”

All of a sudden, a call came to her phone. Picking it up, Kournikova answered snappily, “Whoever this is, I’m a little busy wrangling a galactically-famous time traveling scientist. What’s up?”

Sure enough, it was Kournikova’s boss. He looked haggard, as if he had aged many years in the last hour. The man stared at the detective with a weary look, and ordered in a stern voice:

“Detective, let the man go.”

Kournikova’s only reaction was a blank stare, one which usually signified disbelief. At that, the boss rolled his eyes and barked, “I said, let him go.”

The detective looked at the phone and asked, “Wha--why--”

At that, Kournikova’s Boss cut her off with a gesture that resembled the closing of a zipper, and said annoyed, “It’s out of my hands, Detective. In between all the damn reporters, the damn Feds, and the damn looky-loos, I’ve got the DA’s office personally ordering me to let him go home. I don’t know how or why or--well, whatever. Anyway, you’re to escort Dr. Ambrose and makes sure he gets to safety. Oh, and by the way? You’ve got the feds to help you out.”

Kournikova raised an eyebrow--one which was wondering just how much pull this man or his associates had anyway. Kournikova’s Boss for his part said only, “You heard right. Whoever’s pushed the DA evidently pushed their bosses too, because the Feds are...well, look around, will ya?”

Sure enough, Kournikova could see the various SUVs forming into a sort of crude convoy, flanking the SUV with Dr. Ambrose inside of it as they honked horns, nearly missing one another and with annoyed drivers flipping each other off. It was akin to watching a ballet, conducted by an army of drunken elephants lead by an incredibly lackadaisical ringmaster.

Kournikova gritted her teeth. She had been called here for an investigation. Maybe to write up Dr. Ambrose and get some answers for people as to why an entire Kentucky Fried Panda had become a landing pad. Instead, the whole thing turned into a circus. First, the media and the crowds came in, eager to see a celebrity raise hell and tell an amazing story. Then, came the Feds. All the feds. Feds here to meddle in her debriefing . The County and Federal governments in any area of the Republic usually had a pretty good relationship, but this time, Kournikova wasn’t having any of it. She had found Dr. Ambrose, and under normal circumstances, there would have been an orderly course of conduct. She would go in, do the initial debrief, and then hand the ops over to the Feds or cooperate, as the Department dictated. Evidently, being a celebrity upended the usual way of things.

Now, Kournikova would have normally stood down and followed her boss’s dictates. But something within her compelled her to follow the good Doctor. Nodding at the hologram, she could only say, “I’ll call you back” as she hung up. The detective then saw the SUV, and then dashed towards it as she called for the driver to hold up. The SUV and the convoy stopped, and unnecessarily, Kournikova executed a move straight out of an action film, sliding across the hood and executing a three point landing transitioning into an opening of one of the backdoors as Kournikova sat next to Dr. Ambrose with a simple, “Doctor” and a nod. The look in her eyes suggested she would be there for the long run.

Soon, the convoy began moving on, and the flashing of sirens and lights caused the crowds to part as if Moses himself was parting the Red Sea. As Kournikova looked, the Convoy began to motor along, with the crowds snapping pictures and the news media following along. Along the roofs, Kournikova could see figures moving about, wondering what they were doing.

***

As it turned out the figures were not so harmful after all. Namely, they were members of the Early Bird Society and various other curious onlookers eager to see the good Doctor skip town. It wasn’t often that celebrities came to this part of the Republic, and so, the people were inclined to stare.

Among them was still Sensei McMurty, whose catlike reflexes had kept up with old age. With the deftness of a skilled parkour master, she leapt from fire escape to fire escape, eager to see the convoy move along. Her motives however, were more than mere celebrity-watching. That man had come here somehow, some way, for a reason. The story was audible of course--she sensed perhaps that it was indeed true, all those aliens and time travels--and as such, the good Sensei was compelled to do her own investigating. At the very least, someone had to watch that uptight wolfgirl cop who had run after the Doctor.

Of course, Sensei McMurty wasn’t quite surprised by what the Doctor seemed to do next. The good Doctor could be seen leaning out of one of the windows of the SUV, waving to the crowds...and tossing out small vials of some sort of substance. She closed her eyes, and breathed in and out slowly to try and get a sense of the figures in the convoy. They had quite a ripple in the Force, but the crowds did slow things up a bit in terms of feeling out presences.

McMurty snickered a bit as she sensed Kournikova’s extreme discomfort with Dr. Ambrose’s showboating, and Dr. Ambrose’s….well, it was hard to tell, but it was pretty clear he was throwing caution not merely to the wind, but to a Category 5 Hurricane. She didn’t pry too much. Experience had taught her that people could tell when they were being surveilled psychically.

Of course, that meant having to get back down to see things from a closer POV. Besides, there were police drones buzzing about, and they were all seemingly eager to keep tabs on her movements.

McMurty then obliged them with a turn and a wave--and then a flash--and then a disappearance.

Not for long though. McMurty leaped onto a fire escape, and then leapt from the fire escape onto the streets below, grabbing onto a drone and briefly swinging on it like a pendulum before leaping off of it, turning herself into a flying ball before she executed a perfect landing. Striking a kneeling pose and looking at the crowd, McMurty stood back up, dusted herself off, and walked forwards. Her knees ached a bit though and she wondered if it was perhaps wiser to just have climbed all the way down the fire escape.

Either way, McMurty walked into the crowd, and saw Ambrose tossing some small bottles at the crowd. McMurty was curious, and resumed her celebrity watching from down below--

--and then she quickly, as if by instinct, seized something in midair with her hand. Looking at it, she gasped.

It was a small, travel sized blister pack with a couple of pills, which resembled the ones you could buy at a gas station or convenience store or even one of those rest stop bathroom vending machines that also sold condoms and bandages if you absolutely needed to cure a splitting headache and lacked the foresight to bring over the counter medication. Yet as the good Sensei looked, she realized it was not any ordinary blister pack. No, not with the stylized images of voluptuous women on its foil wrappings and tear anywhere construction, and the promises it had of enhancing one’s….assets, and the surprisingly easy to understand instructions.

With a curious frown and a skeptical eye, Sensei McMurty read the label.

“NuSEXYE--the Galaxy’s Finest Nutritional Supplement. Look good, feel good….”

McMurty nodded, curious. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the stuff. Like Detective Kournikova, she had seen her share of ads for that wondrous creation by Dr. Ambrose which could turn even the plainest and most mundane of womenfolk into bombshells that, in the words of a very wise man in the past, would be “really, really good looking.” But she never had much reason to use it. After all, what good was looking good if the person that looked good had a rather abhorrent personality?

McMurty then looked about, and saw that already, some people in the crowd were trying it. And, sure enough, within minutes, they began to look...different. Way different. Like, fashion model different. She then looked down at the pills, and then looked up at the crowd. Part of her was now getting quite curious. She’d gone without this sort of beauty treatment for a long time--hell, she had even heard rumors NuSEXYE did wierd things to people’s constitutions. Old wives’ tales, that sort of thing.

And yet...it worked. And those who took it seemed to be without any major effects. Besides, McMurty was not young anymore. Even with the Force and years of experience, this day had taken a lot out of her, to say the least. A lot more than she was used to, what with the celebrity in town and the stopping his pod from harming too many innocents. Perhaps the pill might have invigorating effects?

McMurty shrugged.

Opening the packet, she shrugged and went, “Bottoms up!” as she tried it out for herself.

***

Onboard the SUV, Kournikova had become used to basically remaining silent and letting Ambrose do his thing. How he had a supply of a potent “nutritional supplement” on his person all this time was a question she wanted to ask--but Ambrose seemed too busy enjoying the benefits of celebrity to really entertain any questions.

Moreover, Kournikova wondered why Ambrose was even tossing all this NuSEXYE out for the crowds to take into themselves. She could get leaving the station. He had a mission to do, and some sort of vengeance to wage--even if it did upend the way she usually handled these cases. But randomly distributing batches of nutritional supplements out of hammerspace? That was a decidedly unexpected turn of events. Was it flaunting the law? Rubbing it in her nose? Rubbing it in the noses of anyone who ever crossed him or denied that SEXYE and its permutations really would bring joy to the masses? The guy would have been a lovely treasure trove for any psych doctor. Certainly, Kournikova noted that the guy had a certain madness and zaniness of character that--

--and then, Kournikova heard a thump from the roof. She pulled out her service piece, and wondered what was going on. Indeed, it appeared as everyone else had done so, both inside the SUV and outside of it. This day was just getting better, wasn’t it?

Then, one of the side doors opened, and a woman slid inside very quickly, hanging off of the roof of the car and then quickly shutting the door before others could react.

As far as Kournikova could tell, the intruder who had taken them by surprise was an attractive, somewhat older yet still youngish woman with a cat’s tail wearing a grey Acolytes’ uniform with more modern Order pips, a serape, and a sombrero. Kournikova looked--no, squinted at the woman and sized her up. She had seen that clothing before...but where? How? And when? Then, she remembered--those old biddies on the rooftop. There was a woman among their ranks with the same costume. But it didn’t make any sense. How did this woman get the same costume?


Then, she gasped, after taking another look. It had just occurred to her at that moment, recalling what that old biddy looked like, that she was likely staring at said old timer. Only, the old timer had been given a new lease on life by Dr. Ambrose’s little unusual miracle. In fact, it was fair to say that NuSEXYE had cut down on the visible effects of aging by at least 20 years or so, giving the lady, among other things, a larger bust line that seemed to strain against her old uniform. Tipping her sombrero, she then saluted the Doctor and the Detective and introduced herself as “Sensei Jolene McMurty. How are y’all doing?”

Detective Kournikova grumbled, saying as she pointed her pistol at the newcomer, “Lady, you have fifteen seconds to get the fuck out of this SUV unless you have a damn good explanation for being here!”

McMurty said holding her hands up, “Relax! I’m just here for the Doctor. I sense he’s up to something important, but I dunno what.” Shrugging, she then added, “Anyway, I figured I’d sign up for whatever shenanigans are gonna happen next. What’s the worst that could happen?”

[Sunset]

Caer Lleon...

Oxford...

"In here;" And judging by the amount of flapping and thrusting going on inside the Knight's impromtu cape-sack; "Quickly!"

The door was held open, the Knight stepped forward, and with an unceremonious thrust Pidgey - or whatever it's real name was - was deposited inside along with the now somewhat tattered remains of the man's cloak. Word had come in ahead of his arrival and with every amount of due haste a room had been prepared, sealed against what was strongly suspected to be an airborne hallucinogenic of some sort and, of course, what had been already decided to be a particularly talkative sort of bird. The door slammed shut and the Knight was immediately escorted into an adjacent room to be scrubbed, sampled, and disinfected.

The space had been built to isolate someone with either a weakened immune system or an especially communicative disease and to that end one entire wall had been replaced with a one-way window fitted with a pair of feed-back gauntlets used for manipulating an overhead waldo. This afforded the staff an easy view of the bird as it tugged its way free of the sack and began exploring its new space.

Whatever it was, it wasn't a bird.

After a few minutes of poking through nearly everything and making a general mess, it turned to the door and began to try and open it with the clear and absolute knowledge that it was a door - twisting the knob with the claws at the mid-point of its wings - and then banging on it with both claws and talons, "Hero? Hero! Heelo! Ker-wit! Ker-wit!"

The Queen's Stateroom...

Ehward dressed with a ruthless efficiency, though whether it was her presence or habit was a question he did not answer. His eyes were on the floor the entire time; Simple briefs then socks, under-shirt, trousers, shirt, then shoes. The buttons at his cuffs and collar didn't phase him and his fingers worked them through their loops with brisk, quick motions until he was again presentable. If only for a jacket he would look like a respectable man about town though there was something wrong. Her magic had healed him, given him new energy and a liveliness that caught her off guard, but it had not made him whole.

As soon as his shadow had finished moving behind the muslin screen where his clothing had been placed on a bench, he stepped out and turned to her where she stood across the room at a window; A proper, respectful, and intensely curious distance away, "Ma'ham, Empress;" And he struggled with the rest of her title, name, and both the right order and pronunciation, "I, Ehward Dheluetto, First Kapten of Her Majesty's Loyhl Ghrenadiers, do thank you mohst humbly for your aid."

Tucking his left hand behind his back and resting his right flat at his side, he gave her a slight bow and then dipped half-way to one knee, rising again before walking to her side. There seemed no trace of the injuries that had befallen his body, no limp or weakness of breath, but there was still a scar over his left eye and down his right cheek, deep but somehow not ugly. Here and there branches split out but something told her there was rhyme and reason to them, as though they meant more than the dreadful scars of battle or the honorable wounds of the tournament grounds.

For a moment she lifted her hand, tempted to touch it, to trace it out with her fingers, but then she stopped only inches away, "Edward - that scar..."

"Thes?" He raised his free hand to touch it, to trace it from eye to just above the corner of his mouth, "It is no scar. It is my rank, a mark of most honorable service to her Mahjesty." The tip of his finger traced the last crack and for a moment she could see something there, a piece of something under his skin that reminded her of the tubes and stems the doctors had placed in his arm, "It es a badge I wear proudly, even though I may never see my brothers ahain..."

----
To Do:

Macisikan
New Dornalia

[New Dornalia]

Ychan felt his mouthparts open slightly in surprise – he wasn’t sure if that was a natural response, or something he’d picked up from humans.

[slight surprise] “I… yes, of course you can name it,” he said after a moment of silence. [appreciative] “Bounty-of-the-river-junction is a lovely name – I am glad you like the device. It will take mere hours to constr… are you familiar with the concept of hours? [explanatory] We divide each rotation into twenty-four equal parts, which are hours; each part subdivides into sixty-sub parts which are minutes. Each sub-part divides into sixty sub-sub-parts, which are seconds,” a button was pushed somewhere and an old analogue clock was displayed, its second hand ticking around. “The little thin bar here; it moves once a second. The long thin bar will move once a minute. The short thick bar will take an hour to move between the big thick markings,” in the control room, Savin tried not to laugh as the Birrin explained the clock. Ychan fixed him with an eye and added “[wry amusement] It is a strange human thing; I know it is counterintuitive – they do everything else in bases of ten. They are an odd little people. Nice, but odd. [reflective] My people originally used a different timekeeping method, but that is lost to us here…” he trailed off for a brief moment.

[thoughtful, considering] “I suspect you will remain with us for a few more rotations of our time – that we may smooth the translation matrices-” Savin left the room at that “-and we will also need to give you some instruction. I believe that there will be important persons for you to meet; we here are first and foremost seekers-of-knowledge-” it was mostly true, even if some were unorthodox about it “-but they are leaders. There are different ways to talk, different things to say; it is complicated. And, of course, working out the best way for you to tell bounty-of-the-river-junction to move.”

Savin, meanwhile, was talking in the next room to one of the linguists; couldn’t they try to tidy up the translations? It wasn’t easy parsing what Aosh was saying – and he knew they were getting the reverse translations wrong.

---

Meanwhile, at the Diplomatic Habitat in Tichel, Ambassador Hendricks’s communicator beeped; an urgent message from the Throneworld.

(Image) Official Communiqué Classification: Confidential From: Office of the Vice-Minister, Vice-Ministry for External Affairs To: Robert Hendricks, Ambassador of the Colonial Republic of Earth Subject: Conveyance of Message To Ambassador Hendricks, greetings and salutations; I am writing to you with regards to a request that the Imperial Federal Government has for the government of the Colonial Republic of Earth. His Serene Majesty’s Imperial Federal Government formally requests that you pass the missive at Attachment A to the Government of the Republic of Sunset at your earliest convenience. If the government of the Colonial Republic of New Earth is able to render assistance in this matter, we would be most appreciative. Kind Regards, A. Trivkaal ___________________________ Sir Ardri Trivkaal His Serene Majesty's Vice-Minister Ministry of External and Security Affairs Imperial Federal Government Realm of the Federated Star Empire of Macisikan

(Image) Official Communiqué Classification: Confidential From: Office of the Vice-Minister, Vice-Ministry for External Affairs To: The Foreign Minister, or equivalent such official, of the Republic of Sunset Subject: Repatriation To whom it may concern, greetings; I am writing to you with regards to the repatriation of certain individuals to their home systems and worlds. His Serene Majesty’s Imperial Federal Government recently came into the possession of debris that we presently understand resulted from a hyperspace accident. Among the debris were two capsules, one containing one Second Lieutenant Trinya Falk of the Republic of Sunset Sunset Exploration Command. The other contained an individual of the Eiryuj race, named Aosh. His Serene Majesty’s Government, with the assistance of the Colonial Republic of New Earth, was able to repatriate 2nd Lt. Falk to the Republic. We are in possession of information that at least one other national of the Republic of Sunset has also been transported out of the Republic due to these capsules. Given that the Republic has a dedicated exploration command, and given that the activities of these capsules have seemingly affected citizens of the Republic more so than any others, we have inferred that the Republic would be best placed to assist us in handling a delicate matter; we therefore formally request the assistance of the government of the Republic in repatriating Seri Aosh fides de Eiryuj to his homeworld. We await your response. Regards, A. Trivkaal ___________________________ Sir Ardri Trivkaal His Serene Majesty's Vice-Minister Ministry of External and Security Affairs Imperial Federal Government Realm of the Federated Star Empire of Macisikan

Part 2 of 2

IC:

Embassy of the Colonial Republic
Tichel System
Realm of the Federated Star Empire of Macisikan

The Dornalian Embassy was used to receiving messages from the Realm to pass onto others at this point. For some time now, Ambassador Hendricks's office had often found itself playing intermediary between the Realm and a foreign power to which it wanted to speak. The good Ambassador, a somewhat balding man who knew the score. It wasn't that the Realm's government was unable to communicate with foreign powers--it had a Ministry of External and Security Affairs after all--but rather that it just was not too interested in speaking to foreign powers. Not without a good reason, anyway--and Ambassador Hendricks noted that finding a good reason was somewhat difficult. So, more often than not, the Embassy became a sort of informal partner in communicating the Realm's needs and wants to the outside world, and also facilitating communication and entry of other foreign powers who were curious about this most forbidden land.

Ambassador Hendricks had not expected to be a fixer, per se. He had done plenty of fixing in his time as an attorney, working in and around the circles of entertainment law getting contracts made and getting clients out of trouble. But he had given up that life to get into foreign service--going back to school, getting a masters degree, and then working with the Foreign Service before going through the process of being made an Ambassador to the Realm. And yet the job seemed so familiar now. He had gone back to the days he had experienced as an attorney--meeting clients for lunches, meeting people for martinis, and generally being someone on an even keel that represented his clients--but also could be trusted to be fair.

As part of that "fixing" nature, he now beheld the message in front of him, telling him to convey some sort of message to the Republic of Sunset. Hendricks put on his glasses and beheld the message from the Realm. What business did the Realm have with Sunset? The attached message was of course, confidential--but apparently, the Realm wanted it shared with the Dornalians, for it was readily viewable. Hendricks nodded, and knew that it concerned a citizen of that Republic. And....a purple capsule?

Hendricks frowned. He had heard about a recent incident involving a purple capsule in Dornieland. Some sort of capsule had landed on top of a Kentucky Fried Panda--he never liked the chain, so no tears were shed--and inside was some scientist--that Dr. Ambrose guy who invented that beauty treatment all the plastic surgeons (including his brother MIke) were going bananas over. He was from Sunset, also. Hendricks contemplated what was what, and realized that something had to be going on involving the Republic. One capsule was just a mishap, but two incidents involving the same MO? What were the chances of that? The Doctrine of Chances may have made strange legal logic in a courtroom--at least how it went in law school--but the Doctrine also did help make sense of strangely coincidental incidents in the real world and right now, it was making a bit too much sense. His somewhat aged brow wrinkled, and he shook his head. COntemplating logic could wait--a message awaited.

So, without much ado, he sent the missive to the State Department with these instructions:

To: Secretary of State Norton Simons, Dept. of State, Colonial Republic of Earth
From: Ambassador Robert Hendricks, Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to the Realm of the Federated Star Empire of Macisikan
CC: Amanda Simons, Secretary to the Secretary of State
Security Level: CONFIDENTIAL//STATEDEP//ORCON (Read: Secret IC)
Re: Message From the Realm for Sunset
Attachments: Original Message

Dear Secretary Simons:

Please be advised that I have been handed a message from the Realm of the Federated Star Empire of Macisikan, which contains a message to be forwarded to the Republic of Sunset with all due haste. It appears to be a situation involving one of their citizens inside the Realm. You will recall that our office already had arranged for the transport of one Sunset citizen back home to Sunset--it appears there is another citizen to be remanded back into the Republic's custody.

Please confirm the transmission of the message and its receipt by the Republic, per standard certification protocols. Thanks!

With that, Simons then forwarded the Realm's message under seperate cover to the Republic of Sunset's relevant authorties--or rather, Amanda did. But anyway, it got there!

[Piethrixia]

PFS - Deucalion bridge | 18:00 hrs | Piethrixian Space

The helmsman looks up at the large screen that covers the front of the bridge.
"Um Sir?" He says as he turns to look at the captain who is sitting in his chair drinking a cup of soda

"Yes leutenant?"

"There is a derelict freighter that just appeared on our radar, it seems like it has a pod floating off of its port side about 20 clicks out"

"Full stop. Send a drone out to get it into DeCon bay 5"

"Yes sir"

PAF Base 1-42810-132 | 19:00 hrs | Vers

A comms officer is running down a crowded hall waving a piece of paper in the air
"SIR, SIR ,SIR!"

He reaches a door marked OFFICERS LOUNGE. He almost kicks the door down when he barges in.

"SIR. The Deucalion found something!"

"What!" Lft Gen Wakelin says as knocks over the table he and two other officers were playing poker on. "Lets see"
He rips the paper out of the comms officers hands. " HOLY! GET THAT SHIP BACK TO VERS WITH THAT- What is that thing, looks like a purple pod or something."

"yes sir"

ODF-14-21 | 21:00 hrs | High Vers Orbit

An officer in a EVA Suit slowly approaches the pod.

" Date 2058, June 16th. The crew of the Deucalion found some sort of pod. For some reason i'm the only one qualified enough to try to open it."

The scientist takes out a scanner

"For some reason I cant pick it up on this hand scanner. As a matter of fact I cant pick it up on any scanner!"

He throws the scanner onto the floor. he then moves towards the wall and takes a diamond tipped Saw off of a rack

"But you know what they say. If you cant get in politely. Just go in with a diamond tipped freeking saw!"

he begins to cut the pod but after a second of cutting he pulls the saw away. The blade is smoking and cracked with bits missing from it.

"What is this thing made of!"

He throws the saw to the side.

"can i get a neurotoxin check please?"

"Nothing on the scanner as always"

"what about Tempurature?"

"22 degrees Celsius"

"how about Radiation. i swear if im standing next to another thermonuclear bomb, i am going to kill you john"

"Nothing"

"ok good, So your saying i can take my suit off?"

"yes but its not recommended"

"why didn't you say so! i hate this stupid suit!"

he proceeds to remove his suit and throw it at the Window.

he begins to run his hand across the surface of the pod

[Caer Lleon]

Oxford New College Medical Lab

There was a radio, of course. "Excuse me, this is Professor Richard DO Norton. We will be happy to return your liberty and bring you back to the Queen after we have asked you a few questions." The radio went off. "Bloody hell, who told us it was a bird? That looks like one of those... things, from Rhaetia. What were they called?" The radio went back on. "Please return to the examination seat. We have a few questions and tests. If you understand, please say 'yes' or take a seat."

Radio went off. The alien did eventually decide to perch on the examination chair, though whether or not it understood the instructions or was bored of fighting the door was as yet to be determined

"Thank you. Now, if you would kindly explain who you are, where you come from, and what sorcery you cast or drug you produced that touched the Empress and her guards?"


The Imperial-and-Royal Residence at the Palace of Whitehall; Stateroom

It had been a quick enough trip with Edward to the palace from the forward landing position at Gatwick. The Prime Minister hadn't wanted to be disturbed, and so the Queen had decided to bring the man home with her, feeling some sense of responsibility. And there was no place in the city like the palace for observation and medical attention if needed. For his part, the man had seemed kind of numb. Awake, alive, healed, but numb in a way that worried Arianell.

It was the first time a man had come into her apartments at the palace; while hardly covered in pink paint and unicorns, there was a definitely feminine flare to the chambers, which embarrassed her (though not to the point of regretting). "I need to get out of this dress." She momentarily considered how that sounded to him, then decided she didn't care. "Please, take a seat, I'll be right back." There wasn't much here for him to see. It was fresh and clean and definitely feminine, but it was also antiseptic. Arianell didn't like to come to Whitehall, but taking him to Saint James had felt, at the moment, too... sensitive. "And if... I... if..."

And then her nerve failed her. He had kissed her. Yes, she had kissed him, but she was healing him... instinctive or not, the thought sent a shiver up and down her spine. When she'd gone into her private chambers (and closed and locked the door, more for his benefit than for hers) and torn her way out of the Nintendo dress, she stood in front of the mirror, nude, flushed, embarrassed... and curious. She hadn't not enjoyed the kiss. Maybe she could ask him to kiss her again? ... she covered her eyes. "Come on, girl."

Bra. Panties. Shirt. Jeans. The thought that a few minutes ago she had almost watched him make the same decisions, while in the same room as her, slowed her. And distracted her. And made her make different choices than she would have were her hormones not clicking along merrily. So when she rejoined him, finding him standing at the window looking down on her city and people, well... she wasn't dressed poorly. But...

But the (exceedingly pale) blue jersey definitely showed off her chest to best effect, even while not showing it. And the fabric clung to what wasn't shown in a way that made a clear statement. Though the overt statement was 'Avalon', emblazoned across one proud bosom, and 'Knights' along the other. On the other side was the number 28, styled in a way that it somehow drew the eye to the curve of her back, and the name 'Azpilicueta', written to draw the eye to her delicate shoulders.

Empress of the whole world she may be, but she was Queen of Avalon first, and patriotic. So patriotic that she'd had the jersey made several times over, so there was always one to hand at her residences.

Beneath that, she had thrown on a pair of jeans. They may have looked like any jeans, but Strauss&Stern had flown someone over from Gran California just to measure her and model her, so that they could say they had the Imperial Warrant which they'd last had in 1932. They made her legs and rear look even more fantastic than the dress had; helped by the fact that though she'd lost the stilletos, her shoes now were still very definitely heels. "I...I read about what you told my minister, Edward. I mean, Sir Edward. I... I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, ma'ham." The boy (again, she used the term self-consciously) looked down at her, and again she wanted to take him into his arms and lean his head on her breasts and hold him, and speak words of comfort. Something of her thought seemed to reach him, as he did very slightly step away. Not so far as to be rude, but enough to put a safer amount of space between them.

"...I don't... I..." Suddenly embarrassed, but feeling as though their shared intimacy was sufficient for her to be open in a way she may not have been. "I've lost people too. My family. My friends. My betrothed. Gone in a flash." She looked around the room, seeking something that wasn't there, the last photo of her and family. But, then, she was never in Whitehall. Upstairs was the room where she had last been hugged by her parents, now a storage closet (at her explicit orders). There were clothes here, in case she did have to come through, but... nothing personal. "...and... it hurts. I know it hurts. You don't know why you're here. Or why you got left behind, and... and you're scared, and you don't know how you'll make it, and everyone is looking to you to be something you're not meant to be... and all you want is to go to them, but you can't, and no one will listen to you because they're all suffering too, and if they took your pain on top of theirs, they'd collapse, but you have to... and it never ends and..." She was crying, she'd suddenly realized. Crying in a way that she'd wanted to cry last week, and then had to keep pushing it off and pushing it off... and now here she was, alone with a real man for the first time in her life, someone who'd kissed her (perhaps by accident, but it was hard to dwell on that when her thoughts were flying).

He didn't say anything, but he did reach out, quietly, slowly, and place a hand on her shoulder for a moment. Making sure to keep his hand as proper as possible, and withdrawing once what he'd done registered with her. She took a deep breath, then another, and managed to find something approximating mental stability. "I beg your forgiveness, Sir Edward" The young queen said. Plenty of time to cry once she got back home. "I...I was trying to help you and got lost in my own problems." It didn't help that he looked like Henry; had he been Henry, she would have been well within her rights to let her emotions go, and even more within her rights to expect comfort herself. But he wasn't Henry. Though in all the ways that didn't matter, that was a good thing.

"I... perhaps I should be waitingh outside?" The way he looked at her was unreadable... not that she had much experience in reading men in this situation.

"No. Please stay. I mean, if you want to leave, I won't... I'd like you to stay. Are you hungry? I was just going to order," she glanced up at the clock, which stood stubbornly at two. Too late for lunch, and almost too late for "high tea. Um... if I may ask, as my guest, is there something you would like? I... I was told I have some excellent ales in my cellar, if you need something stronger than tea... and London has all the food in the world... and..." She went quiet, realizing that she needed to let him make that call.

[Sunset]

Macisikan...

"This-Self will wait," Aosh decided, though whether it understood the concept of time as related to it by Ychan was laid aside. "This-Self is hungry as well, and will sleep again while waiting for Self-Stream to be made! Ychan-Self bounce against Aosh-Self when time to wake? Provide This-Self with food while This-Self sleeps; Difficult it is to eat and talk and so best to sleep and eat then talk to Ychan-Self. Is better to talk to Leader-Selves when membranes saturated. When important Eiryuj-Self want to talk all other Self stop eating so they can listen better; Aosh-Self will do the same."

Did that mean that whatever organ processed their food was also responsible for 'hearing' and 'talking'? That appeared to be the case; As soon as synthesized variants of the same proteins that constituted the orb's body were provided, it settled down into a gentle but clear sleep, slowly breathing in and out and exchanging one random patch of nutrient-rich air for another. It wasn't a particularly efficient way of going about it and this explained, in part, their particularly slow way of doing things.

----
To Do:

New Dornalia
Piethrixia
Caer Lleon

[Monfrox]

Fort Amber, CBRN Threat Compound

"Get clear, get clear!"

Ostrovsky booked it to a far side of the area before turning around and seeing what was going on. Whatever the container was, it had reacted to her touch. That could mean a lot of things, most of them bad. Well, one thing was for sure, she hadn't been turned into a shadow on the ground, which meant that maybe there was something else about this.

"Corporal, get your CCP suit back on!" Lieutenant Pavlin said over the radio.

Not one to be told twice, Katka swiftly retrieved the suit pieces and donned them in under two minutes. All that training sure paid off although she was soon feeling hot under all the gear again. Still, she was more worried about what was inside the capsule she just touched. Whatever it was it sure as hell didn't look human.

"Pavlin, contact the teams."

"The signal went out. They should already be on their way."

Well, at least backup was coming. It'd be a little while, but she wouldn't want to end up dead in the meantime. Still, she had to secure the area for them. She pulled the bolt back on her OTs, which stopped due to the safety lever being all the way up but opened just enough for her to check the chamber. There was no round chambered, so she flicked the lever down to the semi-automatic setting and then charged the bolt. Slowly and carefully, she approached the capsule with her gunlight shining on it. Her breathing was loud, but she also heard her pulse pound in her ears with her being so worked up. But even more concerning was the thing inside the transparent container.

"What....the fuck...is that?"

[Sunset]

New Dornalia...

"I could tell you 'no'," But there was a geniality in the Doctor's tone that implied exactly opposite, or at least a neutrality to the suggestion. "Let's see..."

Sticking his head out the window, silver-white hair streaming back in the wind, he seemed to be paying attention to the passing buildings and signs in the manner of a mother or grandmother - at least the writer's - who was given to randomly announcing the names of various businesses and places as one passed. Supplied without context or purpose this would seem infuriating, but this was not Stephen's purpose. Instead a green sign flashed past and he pulled his head in the window before rolling up the tinted glass and fumbling around with the controls on the back of the console between driver and passenger, "Let's see... Why do they have to make these letters so small? And always an abbreviation, but for what? If I..."

Sitting upright, he patted his hands along his suit jacket until he seemed to find exactly what he was looking for. A pair of horn-rimmed bifocals presented themselves and he perched them on the end of his nose before again leaning over and poking at the controls with a single precise digit, "Ah, there!"

Zhang's Suits: Always the Best. Always.

The noise inside the cabin suddenly went from gentle to noisy and he looked up to first watch the sunroof retract and then out the window again, keeping an eye open for something that shortly presented itself. As if he'd timed it - for he had - he stood up at just the proper moment to brace himself to one side and just as the SUV turned into the spaceport terminal's unloading zone. For anyone else this would be a waste of effort as they would be at the doors in mere moments but not for Doctor Stephen Ambrose; The lanes were all packed and the sidewalks as well with the curious, no doubt anticipating his arrival.

'The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only. There is no stopping in the red zone.'

For a moment he waved to the crowd, tossing a vial here and there to some poor distressed woman with her body on backwards or pointing to someone in the crowd who had obviously received the benefits of his genius. Overhead a ship came in to land and he ducked, shielding his brow with a hand as he studied the letters stenciled onto her tail, "That will be her! Now, if you'll join me," he extended a hand, but not to the Detective, "I have just enough time to explain to you the perils of the quest you propose to undertake!"

'The red zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only. There is no stopping in the white zone.'

As soon as Sensei McMurty had joined him and he had again issued a wave to the crowd - to the delight of some and the annoyance of a couple now late for their transfer flight to Maui - he set about his explanation, "You see my dear - Jolene, was it? Flaming locks of auburn hair, ivory skin and eyes of emerald green? No? Perhaps a different missed opportunity..."

'No, the white zone is for loading of passengers and there is no stopping in a RED zone.'

For a moment his eyes went distant and he seemed a trillion miles and a lifetime away but then the haze of age faded from his eyes and once again that charming smile flashed across his face, "As I was about to say, there is considerable risk implied in the endeavor I - we - are about to undertake. You see, I intend to return to my former abode and prove or disprove a theory that," his finger rose into the air and he stood tall, "A theory that may well influence the fate of the galaxy!"

"HA!"

"I..."

'The red zone has always been for loading and unloading of passengers. There's never stopping in a white zone.'

"I jest you not," he assured her, shooting an annoyed glance towards the loudspeakers dotting the concourse, as though he could cause them to somehow detonate through the very power of his mind. "But there is no way to tell the truth of my statement but to prove it and so I shall return to my previous statement. You ask to journey with me into danger. First there will be the trifling matter of legalities; When last I fled, Minamoto was under siege by what I can only assume were the minions of the Secretary-General. Fortunately I do not think we will face these in battle, but there may be several legal matters which may only be settled by virtue of monetary discourse. A fine, as it were."

'Don't you tell me which zone is for loading, and which zone is for stopping!'

"Past that, we will then be required to penetrate a deadly combination of my own defenses - all legal and above board, I assure you and any law enforcement entities that might be listening - and whatever remnants of the nefarious invaders have chosen to take up residence. Now, this may be exceedingly simple. I am - or was - master of my own domain, after all and there are an abundance of secret comings and goings that we can follow."

'Listen Betty, don't start up with your white zone shit again.'

Below their feet the SUV came to a halt. As Moses had parted the Red Sea, so the Doctor standing atop the Nissan had appeared to ease their movement until they found themselves directly in front of the terminal doors, a floor of passengers from the recently arrived shuttle pressing through with bags, backpacks, and baggage in hand. One of these seemed to stand along; A woman of extraordinary beauty with deep auburn hair and what could only be eyes of emerald green. She stepped into the doorway and stood framed there, travelers slipping past on either side while she searched the crowd in front of her, eyes finally settling on the Doctor.

"Ah! You see? Here she is - my most loyal assistant. CEO though, isn't it now? Something like that," he waved a hand dismissively before retreating inside the SUV and waiting patiently for the driver to first force back the crowd and then open the door. Ambrose stepped out and the man went around to the back to retrieve his luggage.

Zhang's Suits: Always the Best. Always.

The great man parted his arms and so too the crowd, leaving a clear lane between himself and his assistant and he stepped forward, "Miss Nineteen! Precisely," he tapped a watch that was somehow there, "On time, as always. And let me say it is very good to see you," he continued, stepping to within an arms-length of her before taking her hand her hand and shaking it graciously, one hand clamped over the pair.

"Now," he reached into his inner jacket pocket, still holding her hand in his, and withdrew a complicated-looking syringe that he jabbed into her arm without so much as a suggestion or apology - not that she seemed to mind one iota; "And you, Doctor. I have already arranged tickets for our passage..."

"Mmm?" He held up the instrument and tapped at it with a bony finger before studying the microscopic display and grunting, apparently satisfied. "Oh, the tickets. Yes, of course. First Class, I presume? And for you and I and our guests? Well then, we should be off. The fate of the galaxy will not be delayed!"

With that, he tossed the syringe aside where it was deftly caught and then deposited surreptitiously inside the SUV by the Detective, who followed the pair as they headed back through the doors in defiance of the steady stream of outbound passengers. Just past the doors the driver was already waiting, a pile of matched luggage carefully stacked on a traveling cart, while beside him a woman who looked like she was absolutely not attached to anyone present lingered. Behind dark green sunglasses brown eyes lingered on Kournikova, first catching her gaze and then adding a slow nod of careful indication before she too turned to follow at a discrete distance, her eyes now always focused on something else.

Beside the Doctor Miss Nineteen had fallen in as well, an implausibly precise half-step behind and to the left while he chattered away, "Now, I was thinking... SEXYEu... Admittedly, we're still in the testing phases, but I'd like that bumped up to production...

'The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only. There is no stopping in the red zone.'

----
To Do:

Piethrixia
Caer Lleon
Monfrox
New Dornalia (Continued)

[Sunset]

Piethrixia...

His intentions were reasonable - the suit was both cumbersome and sweaty, and it didn't allow for that fine sense of touch that would tell him if there was anything irregular about the glass-like surface of the pod. There was just one thing bothering him as he ran a hand across the surface, palm-down...

He didn't have a name yet. There was a rule there, somewhere - if you didn't have a name you weren't long for this world.

It was a realization that cost him the first moments of the pod's opening sequence. Where the shadow of his hand had first fallen on the outer shell a shadow remained behind for a moment. Then a yellow-orange line drew itself around the hand in the between-space of outside air and inner purple-swirling-stuff. This was then filled from the bottom to the top with a brighter orange-yellow light and then the purple stuff disappeared, sucked away as though it had never existed.

This left nothing behind but an ominous darkness that looked like it too was somehow alive with subtle differences in texture and color that disappeared as one looked from one patch to another. A moment later the yellow-orange hand print disappeared and similar lines began to trace themselves through the shell of the capsule, coming together as an angular rectangle on one side and nearly opposite from where he'd first touched the pod. The substance of the shell flowed into these lines and the space between disappeared, leaving the shadow inside exposed for only a moment until it too faded away...

----
To Do:

Caer Lleon
Monfrox
New Dornalia (Continued)

[Sunset]

Caer Lleon...

Oxford New College Medical Lab...

"Ree? Hero? Re, re, ricket!" Then it blew the researcher the raspberry. That, at least, was a distinct answer with the bird-thing's long forked tongue wiggling violently along its length as it extended its blue and purple feathered neck to the window and covered it with blown effluvium. The plastic began to hiss, crack, and run though it was in no danger of collapse and neither did the inhabitant give any indication that it was going to continue the acid assault. Instead it began to talk and gabber, jumping from one side of the chair back to the other.

"Kei tweelie, hero! Helo hero!"

For a moment it looked as though it was about to tumble off the chair but then it rolled between its own legs, circling around and through as its eye caught something of interest and it began to beat the air with its clawed wings. Springing into the air, it settled on the telescoping waldo, extending its wings to stabilize itself as the whole unit swung in a lazy circle before crashing gently into the wall on the near side of the room. This put it right up against the glass and for a moment it smeared its butt along the pane before leaping away with a sq-wack of pain.

Landing on the chair back again, it turned its neck over its shoulder and began to groom at its singed tail feathers...

The Imperial-and-Royal Residence at the Palace of Whitehall; Stateroom...

An audible grumble in his stomach betrayed what words would not and he answered, perhaps the thinnest edge of a smile at the corner of his lips signaling an easing of the mood, "Yes, sohmething to eat, but... I do not knhow what. This plahce is not my own..."

When their meal was brought and placed before them he looked down at it without comment, an uncomfortable tension in his shoulders. Both plate, fork, saucer and spoon seemed foreign to him, even disregarding the course itself. The easy assumption that he was unfamiliar with the notion of curry but he set this aside with a simple "Please...", gesturing for her to eat first. After she began, he carefully mimicked her moments until he seemed at ease.

"Suhch as this - stories of times long past," he supplied, digging through with knife and fork. "Tales of beautiful lahdies and gentle men taking meals at long tables before dancing long into tha evening in front of a crahkling fire. Such stories do not tell us how they took their supper." For just a moment he smiled, holding up his utensils for emphasis. Then his face fell to neutral and his eyes grew hard, "But that wahs before the Fehl. Now we... They do not have time for such frivolities. Ahm I charmed, that I find myself in so fortunate ah place?"

----
To Do:

Monfrox
New Dornalia (Continued)