Netawatwees Olson's Story

“The trouble isn’t the charges. It’s the optics of them.” Geraldine Batchelder-Lockerby, hair carefully coiffed to frame soft features, hardly turned to address her counterpart, who appeared at least a decade younger. They moved at speed through corridor, heels clicking on marble floors, both women dressed in freshly pressed, pristinely tailored dark suits.

“The optics? Gerry, I’m sorry, but we’ve long since crossed that bridge.” Attorney General Netawatwees Olson shook her head, long hair rippling as it moved about her back. “Prime Minister Khayyam was clear. Minister Vilhjálmsdóttir was clear. This is about restoring faith in our government. Culling the fold. Clearing the bramble bush. You catch my drift.”

The women were trailed by a pair of aides, exchanging hushed conversation amongst themselves. Most in Government Center’s West Wing knew not to interrupt, but even if the thought were to cross some young upstart’s mind, their fast pace was likely sufficient deterrent. In no time, they were at the elevator bank, Geraldine standing akimbo, Netawatwees tilting her head slightly to the side, holding a stack of files loosely.

“These defendants are all elderly. They’re heroes, to at least half of Terra anyway,” said Geraldine, lowering her voice as she stared directly at Netawatwees. “And besides, don’t you think Khayyam has a lot more to worry about than what Cranford’s appointees did two, three decades ago? Longer ago, even, for her.” Geraldine stepped in closer as Netawatwees pointedly pressed the up button. “Our government is falling apart. You know that as well as I do.”

“That’s not our department,” Netawatwees responded calmly. “Quite literally. We have a job to do, you and I. My job is to make sure this government follows its own laws. Your job is to prosecute those who have violated our criminal code. However long ago, if there is no statute of limitations. And last time I checked, for crimes like treason, crimes against humanity, and attempted murder, there is no statute of limitations. Hm?”

The elevator doors dinged open. “Ma’am?” One of the aides spoke cautiously, lifting her pencil like she was raising her hand in class.

“I understand that, and I abhor what these people did more than anyone,” said Geraldine. “I absolutely want them to face justice. But why is Khayyam asking us to prioritize these cases over everything else? Why is she personally directing what Justice does? She has the Terra Nova people practically at our door, Aschen Empire sympathizers flooding into Aslund, and a voting public that turns out less than five percent every election year.”

As they stepped inside the elevator, Netawatwees smiled grimly. “As I said, Gerry, that’s not our department. We have a job to do.”

“Ma’am.” The same aide spoke again, forcing a smile, as she squeezed into a corner of the elevator with the rest of the entourage.

“Doesn’t Khayyam have a job to do, too?” Geraldine said, raising her chin. “What about the fact that our entire judiciary is crumbling right in front of us? I’m starting to feel like my office is two steps away from becoming a punchline for a terrible joke at amateur night.”

“I’m well aware of the issues we’re facing,” Netawatwees said, her tone firm, her eyes narrowing slightly. The elevator began to rise, softly glowing digits announcing their ascent. “That’s why it’s even more important for us to keep doing what we need to do. We need to put on at least some display of normality. Routine. And we’ve succeeded in that. Your office has gone to trial two hundred times in the past year, and gotten convictions in forty percent of cases, acquittals in fifty, and mistrials in ten. That’s progress. It shows that we have a functioning legal system.”

“And of the other four thousand cases we had to drop for lack of evidence, lack of cooperation from the NPA or WCPD, or lack of personnel to staff them?” Geraldine crossed her arms, leaning back against the elevator walls.

“Ma’am.” The aide spoke more insistently.

The elevator dinged to announce their arrival, and the doors opened.

“Lilith, what?” Netawatwees finally looked at the aide.

“The Prime Minister’s office has been trying to call you the entire past hour. I have someone on the line now, waiting.” Lilith held up her phone.

Netawatwees took it, wordless, glancing at Geraldine, as they stepped off the elevator. “Yes?”

“Here we go again,” Geraldine said, rolling her eyes. “Look, I need to head out to Wrentham to speak with some of the defendants. This order about Malijin’s case really makes no sense at all.”

Netawatwees balanced the phone between her chin and shoulder, looking at Geraldine. “You’re right. I don’t understand it either. You should ask Vilhjálmsdóttir. Given what we know, well… I know we’re on the same page about this.” Turning back to the phone. “Yes, sorry, everything is on track. Perfect. Great. Thanks. Talk to you soon. Bye.” She handed the phone back to Lilith. Netawatwees sighed. “I’m sorry, Gerry. I don’t mean to sound dismissive or curt. But we’re all at the mercy of political reality right now. Just … different ones are taking precedence for each of us. You’ll do great at the press conference tomorrow. Keep me updated on the prison visits.”

“Will do.” Geraldine eyed Netawatwees warily as the attorney general turned to head the other way down the hall, Lilith trailing and already on another call herself. Geraldine turned to her own aide, Jordynne, who’d been staring down at her phone the entire walk from the downstairs office. “What do you think, Jordynne? You want to come out to Wrentham with me?”

The younger woman frowned, burying her head deeper in her phone. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been out that way before… Is it dangerous?”

“It can be, sure,” said Geraldine, “but no more dangerous than all of Wing City is already. You’ll be fine.”

Jordynne shrugged with one shoulder. “If you say so…”

“Let’s make it a learning experience.” Geraldine patted Jordynne’s shoulder. “You can help take notes for me. Come on.” Jordynne exhaled slowly. Geraldine offered an encouraging smile. “It’s not that bad. Most defendants are out on bail. There are only about a hundred inmates there at any given time, maybe two hundred, and some of them sometimes turn out to be innocent.” She pressed the button to go back down again, and they waited. Of course, someone else had to stop on every single floor in between.

“Not these ones, though,” Jordynne said, her voice so quiet Geraldine was tempted to lean down to hear. “These ones… they’re the heroes who turned out to be villains.”

One among many villans that Terra and Wing City had seen caused the malady of a particular civil servant here today for deposition. While that amounted to 'hurry up and wait' a large portion of the time. Thus up above an anomalous WCPD officer's uniform clung a meter away from the ceiling along a support column. As one got closer it was easier to see the Gardener standing inside of it perfectly still as he listened to the radio. Natural active camouflage of his subtype meant Smudgie had to consciously suppress it thus despite the uniform concealed his outline rather well. Though heard of and rarely seen in his new duties in any case. Drafted after the Elysium crisis Smudgie was one of a terrifyingly small list of creatures that suffered through to Elysium immunity though not without its own sort of permanent scar. Later passing police academy now worked in the beleaguered WCPD in various roles.

This was what brought him to the government center today though it took a judge's order for the precinct to let him out of work. Gifted with an eidetic memory and an indomitable supply of personal energy Smudgie did the equivalent paperwork of a small office just on his own. Though Smudgie's particular brand of calligraphy, even if supremely readable, made any handwritten forms look like religious documents. In a similar fashion, the false matriarch prosecutor or delegates beneath her may have found the very calligraphic attestation in gold ink, dealing with a particular apprehension, something dubious and Smudgie was here to see someone from that office before the trial.

While it started out normal it was the end that likely tripped concerns though all Gardeners wrote as breathlessly as they talked, 'The suspect was seen preparing items for destruction and False Matriarch Police Corporal Roth instructed Patrol Officer Smudgie to fly up and take possession of that steel bin as per warrant while other officers entered the building. Officer Smudgie is qualified for clandestine operations and entered the building through the 3rd-floor window. After identifying the suspect from under a table Officer Smudgie moved in while the suspect's back was turned. Officer Smudgie then took possession of the wastebasket while observing the suspect's movements and exited the room to secure the items. Re-entering the room through a closed door nearer to the suspect Officer Smudgie announced as WCPD and drew service stun pistols while positioned to block suspect's exit by the opposing door passing directly through oncoming officers. The suspect fled the room through the opposing door but Smudgie did not shoot and gave chase to avoid igniting strong accelerants nearby drowning out Patrol Officer Smudgie's senses. As the suspect left the room they ran directly into Patrol Officer Nikolaev then Patrol Officer Nikolaev fell backward to the floor. With all officers present suspect was shortly apprehended and Patrol Officer Smudgie told False Matriarch Police Corporal Roth of the accelerant smell. As smoke entered the hallway False Matriarch Police Corporal Roth and Patrol Officer Smudgie re-entered the room as a waste-bin was seen on fire and a chemical extinguisher was located to put it out with some difficulty. Patrol officer Smudgie returned to the back room where an unburnt waste-bin was secured. Patrol Officer Smudgie returned with a waste bin from before the suspect ignited accelerants. Accelerants were safely neutralized to preserve evidence. Patrol Officer Smudgie put each bin in evidence bags and returned to the precinct to register three unburnt waste paper basket into evidence. Patrol Officer Smudgie also registered another unburnt trash bin into evidence that day with 8 additional sandwich wrappers eaten by Patrol Officer Smudgie. No further unburnt waste bins have been located by Patrol Officer Smudgie at the time of attestation.'

Smudgie's particular scar from the Elysium incident was wild discharges of replication of really anything in its hands at the time. Unbound and drawing hard at the larger aetheric field he replicated items unknowingly once they left his field of vision. It had taken no small notice from other precincts that the one Smudgie belonged to had a net export of pastries, pens, and an abundance of stun sidearms all belonging to Smudgie. It drew hard on the small Gardener to replicate things with power that he couldn't subsequently re-eat but he adapted.

Most officers knew the head prosecutor of course as the elevator opened. The 'floating' uniform custom made for four arms and four legs swivels sharply to look at the elevator as it opened. Smudgie by rote taking note. Smudgie's skin flipped to an inverse of its environment to be better seen as it engaged.

It took a great deal of effort on Smudgie's part to manage not to yell with Eigengrau though now the voice from the transceiver on his uniform was rather monotone as he waved, 'Good morning False Matriarch Prosecutor General Batchelder-Lockerby!'

The officer at the security desk was young, a humanoid being with three horns emerging from the center of her forehead, her faintly blue tinged flesh mottled with yellow-green specks. Hra'iir Qaa Wssbem's particular species lacked natural hair in favor of reptilian like skin and exoskeletal features, which she knew made her an oddity among the human-dominant government here. She'd lived on Terra nearly her entire life, however, and she knew immediately the accent - Taiyou, representing an empire that had long been a relatively hostile power, if in recent times at least a mercifully distant one. Hra'iir Qaa did not recognize the young woman's face, though, or the imperial broach. Perhaps the Taiyou woman was attached to the consulate or embassy, a newer staffer sent on some ignominious mission to fulfill some bureaucratic dead-end. Some kind of mean hazing ritual. Every government office seemed to have one of its own, specially crafted to inflict maximal humiliation, but also a sense of twisted camaraderie.

"The Justice Ministry's central office is in the West Wing," Hra'iir Qaa said, her tone even-keeled and crisp. They'd all been trained to be consummate professionals, if nothing else. "Do you have an appointment with a specific person already? If so, I can call up and have your contact escort you to your meeting straightaway." She reached a hand out to the young woman. "You'll also need to provide identification, and step through the security scanners there." She indicated the setup, designed so that all visitors would be screened for weapons - of whatever kind - in an attempt to prevent a massacre or an assassination. Despite the pains the TNG had taken, however, this building too was a monument to death. "Once you clear security, I'll print a visitor's badge for you. Is this your first time visiting Government Center?"

The young woman nodded in response a moment before she turned to face the bald headed monk that was standing behind her. “Hokushin, can you retrieve my documents?” The woman asked politely, and the man said nothing, simply he reached into his yukata to produce a small silver lined clasping handbag, that the woman quickly opened to fish for her identification.

She nodded, and produced a small passport booklet, passing it to the strange individual across from her.

The passport book bore the seal of the Taiyou Empire, and was a dark crimson in color, however unlike the standard Taiyou passport, which bore the seal of the Empire, and was typically black, this one bore a yellow chrysanthemum, and was an obvious crimson, the Taiyou only issued these types of passports to royalty.

The name under the picture read in Taiyou script. “Her Imperial Highness, Princess Takayama Aeka Masako

“Yes, this is my first time here, I don’t really leave my home, but I was sent by my mother on a special errand.” The woman said respectfully with a brief nod of her head.

“I need to meet with someone who can arrange a visitation with the Drulovic.” The woman seemed to barely be able to pronounce the name, given the drastic linguistic differences. Once she finished speaking, she cast a glance to the scanners, both Aeka, and Hokushin were unarmed, those who served in the elite Mazoku unit tended to fight unarmed, given their incredible skill.

"Thank you," said Hra'iir Qaa, taking the passport before glancing down at the page. Taiyou royalty, then. You didn't see that every day. Belatedly, she added, "And welcome to Terra, your highness." She passed the documents under the scanner to verify their authenticity, a surprisingly straightforward process but one that had become necessitated by the proliferation of fake documents everywhere on Terra, and especially in Wing City. Once finished, she returned the passport to Aeka and motioned for her and the monk to step into the scanner. Once Aeka and Hokushin passed through without incident, she proffered a small map of the place. It of course did not include markers for more sensitive locations, but was meant for tourists and everyday citizens curious about the seat of power.

"It sounds like you don't have an appointment set already, so I'll just direct you to the West Wing. You'll find the Justice Ministry's offices on the top floor there. It's the third set of elevators on your right, then up to level eight." She gestured past the atrium down a long, wide corridor, brightly lit with floor to ceiling windows over ten meters tall, the ceiling ornately decorated with gold inlay and intricately designed reliefs. What could a Taiyou princess want with the ousted intelligence director? Hra'iir Qaa kept a neutral expression on her face, but wondered why the sudden interest. Even press attendance had begun to trickle off as the trial had worn on. And now that it was over... "I'm not sure if you'd need to speak to someone from the Department of Prisons, or someone from the Special Prosecutor's Office, but I'm sure they can help you there. If this is a diplomatic mission, though you'll want to stay here, in the main building, and head up to the Foreign Affairs Ministry."

The young Princess shook her head and smiled, this wasn’t exactly a diplomatic mission, but more a personal errand that her mother had requested she run, she had been given a small note, handwritten by Kendra Shaw to present to Drulovic, it was a simple note, written in Anquietas to be delivered by the young Takayama.

Hokushin had committed the directions to memory, and with his imposing stature, he seemed to tower over the Princess. “I think I will start with the special prosecutor, from there I can at least figure out the process, I hope they are available, I know the legal system can keep someone very busy.”

Aeka offered a polite bow, before she followed Hokushin to the elevators. While the bald monk exuded discipline, and power. He seemed to blend in, leading the young Princess with silence, up to level eight, where neither of the two exchanged a single word, rather, Aeka focused on the map.

Aeka quietly thought to herself, Kendra refused to leave the confines of the Taiyou Imperial Palace, the woman had night terrors, and was on constant guard, something that got even worse since Nobuo passed away, the thought made the young princess grimace as the elevator chimed. Hokushin took a step out, surveying the interior of the hall, before nodding.

“This way.” He said, leading.

“We should speak first to the Prosecutor, and then to the prisons department, through them we should be able to secure your visit.” Hokushin said, as he pushed the door open to the lobby of the Justice Ministry’s wing within the Government Center.

Aeka briefly looked to an aging poster of her mother, on a most wanted list posted on the wall. The resemblance was staggering between the two.

Hokushin paused for a moment. But would approach any available secretary.

“Excuse me.” The monk said with a bow. “I present a diplomatic envoy from the Taiyou Empire who wishes to speak to someone in charge of the Drulovic Case.”

Hokushin’s words were clear, and concise, he did not seem to have an accent.

Before the secretary - a young man with reddish-blonde hair and splotchy freckles covering most of his face - could figure out how to respond to the very traditionally attired Taiyou visitors, an inner door opened and the Attorney General of Terra interrupted. A mid-aged woman with a thin frame and long, dark brown hair swept over her shoulders, Netawatwees Olson immediately frowned upon hearing mention of the former intelligence director's name. "The case against the former TIB director is closed," she said, and then handed a stack of files to the secretary. "Can you take these up to Geraldine's office, Kevin?" He staggered under the weight of the files, cast a resentful look in his boss's direction, and headed for the door to the hall, clumsily opening it. "If you're seeking to lodge an additional complaint and press charges, that's down the hall. An investigator can take the complaint for you." Netawatwees rolled the chair Kevin had been sitting in back into place, and then called to one of the office doors hanging slightly ajar. "Executive meeting, upstairs, fifteen minutes. I'll see you there. Excuse me, I have to head out," she added, smiling apologetically at Aeka and her escort as she headed for the door Kevin had just gone through herself. "Unless it's urgent." And she prayed it was not. She already had Khayyam demanding a meeting, without even going through Vilhjálmsdóttir first. Azieb never would have allowed this.

Hokushin didn’t seem to respond, and Aeka was enamored with the poster, looking at the wanted criminals for the monk to really pull her off task.

With the sound of the inner doors opening up, and the Terran attorney general emerging, Aeka snapped to attention, and frowned at the hurried demeanor.

“His Majesty should have arranged a more formal decorum for this, rather than this impromptu visit.” Hokushin remarked, turning to Aeka.

“I was sent here by my mother, Kendra Shaw.” Aeka insisted before Netawatwees could step out of the lobby. “I am sure we can discuss matters further after your meeting, I apologize for the interruption, I was under the impression my brother had sent an advanced envoy.” The once delicate sounding voice had become more forceful, and regal.

She seemed to be slightly annoyed, and the use of her mother’s maiden name was purposeful as well. “It is quite urgent, we would not have traveled half way across the universe if it were not.” Aeka added, as Hokushin fell silent.

"What?" Netawatwees stopped short in her tracks, looking directly at Aeka as if seeing her for the first time. The resemblance was startling. "I apologize, I didn't receive any message in advance." She started to extend a hand, but remembering, slipped into a bow instead, the gesture conveying a fair amount of respect. "Netawatwees Olson, Attorney General. I have a few minutes before I need to be upstairs. Please." She gestured toward another door leading away from the receptionist's desk, where a small conference room offered seating for six, a slightly wilting potted plant in dire need of attention, and a view of the front parking lot, with spaces reserved only for the Prime Minister, Speaker of Parliament, and a few select Ministerial heads. "I heard you mention the former TIB director's name on your way in. Her criminal case went to trial, and she was convicted and sentenced last month. There's been no appeal filed, so there is no active case anymore. You may have seen it on the news already. So what can we do for you here?" Certainly, Aeka was not here to turn in her mother. And even if she somehow were, Netawatwees figured that Aeka would proffer that information on her own. More likely, Aeka was here to seek some kind of favor, and if it were anything what Netawatwees suspected, they'd have to decline, and refuse to help.

Aeka offered a deep bow in return, and Hokushin followed suit. “Takayama Aeka.” She replied, before she gestured to the man in the traditional outfit. “This is Hokushin, he is my guardian.”

The pair followed quickly to the conference room, where they could have a few moments to speak. “Yes.” Aeka replied in the affirmative. “My mother has been the source for much of the suffering, and bears her share of the blame, but understand she acted on orders from her government. But that is not why I am here.” The Princess explained. “As you know, Director Drulovic allowed my mother to go free, I understand that is part of why she has been imprisoned. Please understand though, my brother and I owe the director our lives, for our very existence is a result of the decisions she made that fateful night.” Aeka explained, her tone firm, yet respectful. She shifted one foot for the other, and cast a sidelong glance at Hokushin, who stood silently to the side.

“My mother fears you will arrest her, and will not leave Niihama, thus she has asked me to go in her place. I have come to deliver a message to the former TIB Director, and to meet with her, one last gesture of gratitude. Is this something that can be arranged? While i am not on official business for the Empire, and your decision would have no bearing on our two world’s relationship, my brother does not like it when our mother is upset.” Aeka added, somewhat cryptically.

Netawatwees poured water from the jug in the middle of the room into a set of glasses and set them on the table, one for each of the Taiyou visitors. "Yes, that's part of why Drulović was prosecuted." She pushed some of her hair over her shoulders, frowning. Netawatwees was politic enough not to mention that Aeka's mother was right to fear stepping foot on Terra. The daughter would not be responsible for the sins of her mother. "If you'd just like to visit her, you'd have to go through the prison. They'll have someone there. I don't have any involvement in the everyday affairs of any of Terra's prisons. They each have their own policies and procedures for visitation. Usually, an inmate will provide a list of family members and friends they'd like to be approved for regular visits. I think in special cases, people who aren't on an inmate's list can send a request for a visit. Those would go to the superintendent of the prison, so long as the inmate agrees to see the visitor. I can have someone in my office put you in contact with the superintendent." She sighed, looking directly at Aeka. "But you mentioned the Taiyou Empire as well, and that sounds like an issue for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, not for Justice."

Aeka shook her head, and frowned. “No, I am not here in an official capacity. I am here at the request of my mother. This affair does not concern my government, otherwise my brother would have made more formal arrangements.” The Princess smiled, and offered a brief bow.

“I thank you for your time, before we part ways, can I ask where she is being housed?” Aeka added.

Through it all, Hokushin remained silent, he nodded only slightly, Shaw coming to Terra and getting arrested would be an incident that neither party wanted to be involved in, He pondered the consequences for a moment.

Neither side wanted quarrel with the other.

“You know.” Aeka said, inclining her head. “For what assurances it may bring, confinement in a cell, or confinement in a palace, is confinement none the less, in all instances, my mother has surrendered her freedom, and lives a life of guilt, and isolation. Perhaps in this way, some modicum of justice has been served by the greater energy of the universe.” Aeka replied, offering one more respectful bow.

"I think Drulović is at Ĭtpraṽmår Prison," said Netawatwees. "I'll have one of my staff confirm and get that information to you, so you can reach out to the superintendent about requesting a special visit. If not through the embassy, though, do you have a different way you'd prefer to receive a message?" Her phone was already buzzing, no doubt with reminders about the meeting that was now less than ten minutes away. That, and probably reporters calling about the Mikkelson case still brewing. They should be calling Geraldine, but of course, they all believed it was Netawatwee's responsibility instead. "As for your mother," Netawatwees said, "I am sure you have more than fulfilled your obligations to her. While it may be that she feels she has faced justice in her own way, our court processes would not agree. We have our own obligations here too; I'm sure you understand." She did not speak unkindly, but she did not waver either. "Thank you for coming to visit, your highness. And - I'm sure you know, but if you do make it out to Ĭtpraṽmår, you should know it won't be ... well, it won't be a very nice place. I hope you've found a suitable hotel or guest house while here." Netawatwees returned the bow to Aeka. "If there's nothing else, I will need to be on my way."

Aeka nodded. “I have nothing further.” She said, turning over to Hokushin, and nodding. The monk took his place back at Aeka’s side.

“I will take the blame for your tardiness.” Aeka remarked as Netawatwees left the room, and Hokushin started to lead the Princess out of the small conference room, and into the lobby. It seemed all so tiresome to her, the Aschen were quick to drop their end of the matter when Shimizu pressed them, but the Terrans did not waver. Aeka could respect them slightly for that. She smiled to herself at the remark that the prison wasn’t a nice place. No prison ever was.

For now, despite Kendra’s objections, the status quo would have to remain.

With that in mind Aeka followed Hokushin out of the lobby, and back through Government Center.

Aeka nodded. “I have nothing further.” She said, turning over to Hokushin, and nodding. The monk took his place back at Aeka’s side.

“I will take the blame for your tardiness.” Aeka remarked as Netawatwees left the room, and Hokushin started to lead the Princess out of the small conference room, and into the lobby. It seemed all so tiresome to her, the Aschen were quick to drop their end of the matter when Shimizu pressed them, but the Terrans did not waver. Aeka could respect them slightly for that. She smiled to herself at the remark that the prison wasn’t a nice place. No prison ever was.

For now, despite Kendra’s objections, the status quo would have to remain.

With that in mind Aeka followed Hokushin out of the lobby, and back through Government Center.

"Tennoheika, I don't understand why you insisted on coming, you should focus on your own recovery." Shuichi protested as their staff car eased to a stop in front of Government Center.

The man cracked his knuckles, and stretched his arms for a moment, feeling the muscles as they flexed under his skin, he was impressed with what Seno had done. "I'm going to sort this mess out with Keiko, and then I'm going to personally cave Shimizu's face in for what he did to me." He replied, turning his hands over, and looking at them closely before he looked at his face in the mirror.

"Seno's going to get a promotion for this." He added, as the Adjutant stepped out of the car, and opened their door.

The Adjutant offered a soft bow, as Shuichi got out with the younger man, and the two of them took in the visage of Government Center before them for a moment.

"Alright Minamino." Nobuo interjected. "Let's do this." He said as they started to walk towards the front lobby of Government Center, Minamino opened the door, and offered the man a bow, before he followed in behind, and the two of them approached the front desk, Minamino still in his suit from Itpravamar, and the new figure, seemingly in his late twenties, was wearing a simple white hakama worn under a black Kataginu with the Imperial emblem sewn into it, distinctly showing his rank, and station within the Taiyou Empire.

Crossing the threshold, they approached the Receptionist, and Minamino offered a soft smile, and a deep bow. The man next to Shuichi bowed, but not as deeply.

"Hello, I am Minamino Shuichi, I am the Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Taiyou Empire. I've arranged an appointment with the Justice Ministry regarding an urgent matter from Her Majesty the Princess."

In the West Wing, Monica reached for the proffered cylinder from Irina. "Thank you, Dr. Kawandi," she said with a nod. "I'll make sure it gets to our lab right away," she said, neglecting to mention that the twenty-some odd staff in the Development Ministry's agricultural lab were currently hard at work attempting to develop a set of new rice hybrids for use in Caldonia, Losenji, and Ebouma, a pet project of the deputy minister that she doubted he'd be too eager to sacrifice even if Minister Tesfaye sent the orders himself. She frowned then. "Wait, I'm sorry. You're saying that someone intended to plant the infected specimen here on Terra? But ... why?" She glanced at Tesfaye, who raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Do you have reason to believe this is corporate sabotage?" Tesfaye asked.

"Or - or biological warfare," Monica said, looking back toward their guests. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"No, not biological warfare," said Tesfaye, with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Crops like these would take too long to propagate in sufficient numbers. Too many seasons." He looked to Kawandi with a darkening eye. "Who do you suspect is responsible, and why?"

***

In the main entry hall, Shiya Calusdian had noticed the arrival of the Taiyou immediately. She'd always been able to spot them - especially the ones with imperial pedigrees or connections, even if they came without a full entourage. They always wore something with the imperial crest or one of another half-dozen symbols representing the throne. She busied herself with a stack of mostly outdated message forms behind the desk until they approached. The Justice Ministry. "Of course," responded Calusdian, with a polite, respectful bow. They all had to know protocol, of course. "Weapons in the lockers there, then pass through security. I'll need ID's here, and I'll just call upstairs for you."

This was a formality of course, but had to be done. After all, despite Shiya's well honed eye for Taiyou imperials, anyone could be an impostor. You never knew. She called up, and after a few moments of harried shouting on the other end, forced a smile. "Up on the third floor, Ministers Vilhjálmsdóttir and Dvořák will receive you. Would you like to head upstairs on your own?" Two ministers spelled trouble. All Shiya knew was she wanted nothing to do with it.

Both Taiyou offered another deep bow, the younger of the two offering Shiya a slight smile, or was it a smirk, either way, the man did not resemble any known Imperials, at least on the surface, perhaps a relative? Or perhaps someone with Imperial pedigree one way or another. Shuichi paused for a moment to look over to younger Imperial, who looked back to Shuichi. The man grimaced, and sighed his resignation, before reaching into the Hakama, and rifling through it, he produced a small Tantō, an ornate looking dagger with carefully, hand embroidered gold hilt, imbued with gemstones, and gold leaf. The weapon appeared antique, but honed to a razor's edge. Engraved on the blade itself were Kana symbols inlaid with gold, but this was hidden by the blade's scabbard, which was inlaid with the same gold inlaid kana. It depicted some elaborate artwork of some kind, and tied on the hilt was a brilliant red and gold ribbon, which ended with a tassel on the end.

"This is a family heirloom, guard it with your life." The man insisted as he passed the weapon over to Shiya, which, to anyone with any familiarity with the Taiyou custom, would recognize this antique dagger as the "Tengoku no tantō" A generational family heirloom passed down from an Emperor to his successor, a device of the Emperor himself, along with Tenchi-Ken symbolized the office of the Emperor.

Both of them offered another respectful bow. "Please, if someone could show us up there." Neither one of them seemed to notice the two gardenites, or rather Garden-Aschen standing in the room, but they were noticed, the younger man simply opted not to say anything.