[center][h1][color=007236]Three Days Later[/color][/h1][/center] [center][h3]Zandorian NE Military Base, Zandor Territory[/h3][/center] [hr] 13:56 [indent]Commander of Civil Defense Deployment, Elstric Flac, sat in her office beside her computer terminal eating home-baked cookies and sipping hot chocolate from her flask when the transmission came in from her superior officer, SOC Flax Elter. She just about spilt the hot chocolate down the front of her black and grey standard issue uniform when the alert sounded; a sharp high-pitched tone that lit up the displays secondary communications array beside her monitor, which also came alive with text scrolling across the screen: 𝙸𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝙾𝙲 𝙵𝚕𝚊𝚡 𝙴𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛 With a quick adjustment of her station and setting the flask aside, she promptly sat to attention and pushed the yellow button to open a channel. “Elstric Flac present, sir!” “Commander.” Flax replied in his usual flat tone. “We have a problem.” “A problem, sir?” She asked, wiping a crumb from her mouth with her thumb. “A Code Green emergency.” He replied, “This is the situation: Thirty minutes ago Orbiter 7 detected 226 Zandorian civilians on the Badlands. Extrapolation indicate they crossed onto the Badlands from the NE boarder of Zandor twenty two hours ago. Readings also indicate these civilians are both trekking on foot and by motorized vehicle. We are currently unsure as to the reason for this activity.” “What the hell??” Elstric replied, looking out the window as if observing the military training field outside might help to gain some understanding on matter. “How did it take over twenty hours for orbiter 7 to detect a group of people that size? And more importantly, sir, what possible purpose would over two hundred civilians have for entering the – “ “Pointless questions, Commander.” Flax cut her off. “You know the drill. Get on it.” “Yes, sir. I’ll order a retrieval Squad immediately. How many Centuries of troops would you recommend?” There was a moment of radio silence before Flax came back with an unfitting tone of severity, saying; “One and half Centuries, Commander. Type X.” “Type X, sir? Aren’t Type X troops reserved for Level 5 Covert Operations? This is only a Level 1.” “You’ve got your orders, Commander, now get on it. You will be receiving Orbiter 7 tracking telemetry within a few seconds.” Elstric scrunched her face, completely confused. She knew damn well X Troops were reserved for non-civilian and highly classified operations, but she wasn’t about to argue with her superior. “Uhh… Yes, yes sir. As you wish. I’ll get right on that then.” “Flax out.”[/indent] [hr] [indent]Elstric severed channel communication then launched herself across the room, the wheels of her chair rattling as she coasted to the primary communications station. She immediately initiated a call to the Zandorian Civil Military Deployment, which was actually just two building away from her own, and waited for someone on the other end to open a channel. She tapped her foot impatiently while waiting, looking back over her shoulder and wondering if maybe she had time to grab her flask of hot chocolate – “Yeah, what?” Coming through from the other end was Coordination’s of Deployment Officer, Beazdic Shnat. “This better be good, Elsy, I’m in the middle of getting my di – “ “Don’t, please, just don’t tell me what you were doing, you sick little man.” Elstric said, and sighed regrettably. The hot chocolate would have to wait. Beazdic snickered. “So what do you want, hot stuff?” She planted her face in the palm of her hand and shook her head. “Please, Beezy, don’t call me that. This is important.” She sat straight in her seat as then the monitor in front of her opened telemetry form Orbiter 7, displaying tracking coordinates of the 226 civilians now over twenty miles into the Badlands. “As important as… [i]last night[/i]?” Beazdic replied with a sleazy whisper. “I just received orders from Flax.” She said, ignoring his comment and punching out directives in the keyboard. I’m sending you Orbiters 7’s coordinate telemetry as we speak.” “What are you talking about, Elsy?” Beazdic became abnormally serious. “We actually have an order from Flax?” “That’s what I’m telling you.” She replied, and hit Enter. “You should be receiving the telemetry momentarily.” Radio silence took over while Elstric waited for Beazdic to absorb the information she sent. Close to a minute later he returned, sounding considerably suspicious. “Errr, over two hundred people in the Badlands…. Why though?” “My thoughts exactly.” She replied. “But apparently there’s no answer to that question as yet.” She takes a breath before delivering the next bit of unbelievable news. “I’m hereby ordering a one and a half Century retrieval Squad. Type X. Effective immediately.” “Wait…” Beazdic pauses to garble something under his breath. “Are you joking with me right now? Type X? Are you on drugs?” “This isn’t a joke, Beezy. Get on it now. I’m serious. Flax sounded different. I mean, for a minute there he actually sounded like a real person. So don’t fuck around with this one. Understood?” “Uhh, yeah, sure.” He said, after another short spell of silence. “It’s all good. Already made the deployment application. A few minutes from now and the troops will be on their way out there.” “Thanks. Flac out.”[/indent] [hr] [center][h1][color=007236]Twelve hours later[/color][/h1][/center] [center][h3]Tower of Meth, home of Her Eminence Goaldinhoe[/h3][/center] [hr] 02:00 [indent]“Are you crazy?” She whispered, trying not to unduly disgruntle any nearby guards. “It’s two in the morning, I can’t just wake her up!” Basal Troven, the sovereigns First Minister and closest advisor, had an almost unnatural sheen and soft body to his black, wavy coiffure that complimented the finest black leather cloak he was, as usual, adorned in, unclipped at the waist to reveal the silk folds of his violet pullover top, the glimmering gold chain hanging low from his neck, and thick layers of grey-patterned bombazine trousers that accentuated the firm curves of his thigh muscles. Not at all pleased by the denial of his request, his intense blue eyes peered down at the young Tower Damsel with unwavering severity, as the perfectly maintained skin of his nostrils flared to accentuate his disdain. “You will do as I say,” He told her, speaking boldly and without care for the guards within ear range, “Or I will see to it that you are cast from this castle and down-ranked to work in the Commoners district if Alin City…. The choice, you see, is yours.” The young Tower Damsel looked as though she were about to cry, flickering a glance toward one of the guards in the shy hope that maybe they would intervene and save her from this ghastly dilemma. But instead of being spared by the guards, a soft sounding click echoed almost eloquently though the hallway, causing the guards to then fall to one knee as the door to the sovereigns’ bedchamber gently opened several meters behind the Tower Damsel. The young Damsel gasped in petite surprise, turning to witness her eminence Goaldinhoe step out from the threshold and wrapped snuggly in a royal, crimson night gown. With a gracious wave of her hand, Goaldinhoe dismissed the tower Damsel who bowed quickly before departing down the hallway. The sovereign then regarded Basal Troven with a small yet curious smile, before tilting her head to one side, inviting him to follow as she returned to her chamber. He bowed his head respectfully and complied. The bedchamber was large and spacious. The walls were decorated with fine art and draped hangings of the highest quality silk designs. The bed itself was enclosed by a curtain of fine netting, while the whole room flickers with the pleasant ambiance of firelight chandeliers. Goaldinhoe herself gracefully crossed the room and stood by the foot of her bed where she turned with unfaltering patience for her friend and held out one hand for him take in his. She spoke quietly, sensually; “What is so very important that you come to me at this hour, my friend?” Basal took her hand in his, gently caressing it with his thumb while he stole a short while to admire the golden locks of her hair, the iridescent green tints of her eyes, the youthful glow of her face, and the supple contours of her pink painted lips. With his voice forlorn, making known his sad sentiments with a lowly drop of his brow, and confessed; “I come with sorrowful news, Your Eminence. I regret having to deliver this information to you at this hour, but it is of the upmost importance that your response on this matter be made public near after dawn.” “No matter,” She replied, solemnly meeting his tone, “I wasn’t tired on any accord. So speak, deliver the news to my waiting ears.” “The news is of the Badlands, Your Eminence…. Yesterday, over two hundred of your people took venture there. We yet do not understand why. A Retrieval Squad of over one Century was sent to their rescue. Before the Squad could get there, our satellite lost contact with all said citizens. Their life signs and heat signatures simply vanished from radar. Upon the squad’s arrival at the civilians last known coordinates, images were transmitted back to our military base of what they found. …However, soon after this our troops also vanished from radar. It would appear we have, in the period of merely one hour, lost near four hundred Zandorian’s to the Badlands, both civilians… and military personnel.” Her hand had slipped from his grasp half way through his speech and swung listlessly by her side while her eyes, weighted with grief, almost shut as if to sleep in the closing of his words. A deep, mournful groan was heard to escape her slightly parted lips before she again found the will to speak: “The images our soldiers sent back before they too vanished. What did they reveal?” He stared back at her, unwilling for the moment to say. “Tell me, Basal, tell me what they revealed.” “Blood.” Basal swallowed hard and dry. “A great deal of blood, Your Eminence.” Her eyes began to visibly strain in the battle against tears. “Our sate…” He choked on his words, clearing his throat to continue. “Our satellites are currently processing more images of the area.” He dropped his face shamefully toward the floor, as though blaming himself for what happened. “They should be ready for viewing at your request.” Her Eminence Goaldinhoe, slowly extended her hand once more, lifting Basal’s chin with one finger as she stepped in close and drew her face near to his. A tear broke free from her eyes and defiled her face as the heat of her breath washed over his face in the slow spilling of her words; “You will find out why this has happen to my children…. And those responsible will pay with their very lives. Do you hear my words, my friend?” Basal raised his eyes, focusing on the newly opened door to the darkness in her soul. “Yes, Your Eminence.”[/indent]