“Too much has been looted or destroyed. The equipment takes too much time to build, and your coffers are not limitless. I have come to the conclusion ve must acquire the equipment by alternative means. On a side note, the labs housing such equipment vill also contain other supplies we need.” Dr. Creeper laid another stack of paper on my desk. One major downside to working with an old-timey mad scientist is his insistence on leaving a paper trail when digital documents and Augmented Reality notes would do.
The head of my Institute of Science had come up to me while I was lounging on my chair in the Directory Building. Yes, they’d actually put more work into building the thing and it looked much less like a circus now. I had my own seat to watch over proceedings and make myself available for discussion, but no one had bothered me today. I spent my time remotely overseeing developments over on the military base, like the distribution of new combat uniforms. I’d had some put together so my guys are a little less expendable than most people expect, even the Security guys.
I was also enjoying the training flights with the new VTOLs. Squat, but smoothly, beautifully curved, the exterior was black by default, with the ability to shift to other patterns and colors to hide itself, born of the ability to stick a paper-thin monitor, and holodiscs, on anything. Those same curves combined with the primary alloy to make it rather difficult to get a lock on with conventional radar, and I threw in a nice electronic warfare package that didn’t require too much fuss to get working. In place of wings, it was held aloft by two large, saucers that operated via the Coandă effect instead of like a conventional jet or rotor. Fluid, in this case air, is bent to provide lift and help move the thing. They could angle somewhat for maneuvering, but didn’t have the range of motion of the rear jet. That one could turn for more agile moves, and provided most of the directional thrust when in full-on flight mode.
The men, which also includes the women, had taken to calling them Psycho Flyers. It was either a tribute to me or a description of its flight properties. More likely, it’s the first as a way to cover for the first. I need to come up with a theme, though, as I don’t want everything associated with me called “Psycho”. Just think what they’d call American sympathizers of my regime? Or that chain of motels one of my citizens is starting with his mother? Or even the paths through forests and parks meant to help citizens exercise and enjoy nature?
But enough about American Psychos and Psycho Paths. Sadly, enough with the Psycho Flyers and the new combat armor. Dr. Creeper had come and explained to me that we had an issue with important scientific equipment you can’t buy down at Bobby’s Bunsen Burner Emporium. Not being one to shy away from theft and figuring it was a pretty nice cause, I glanced at his little shopping list and said, “Sure thing, Creeper. I’ll see what I can scare up.”
He nodded and threw in the customary bow. “Now eef I have your permission, ve have a new scientist arriving and I vould like to show her around.”
“What’s her doctorate in?” I asked.
He shook his head. “She has a masters. A masters in disasters.”
“I like it, but let’s make sure it’s not like that guy with the theoretical degree in physics. I heard his head just exploded from all the equations, that true?”
Dr. Creeper’s face looked like he’d eaten a pickled egg upon mention of that idiot. “Yes. Zat is what happened. He looked at ze whiteboard and ze next thing you know, boom, his head has gone kaboom all over the place. I really must go.”
“I completely understand, Creeper. Have a nice day,” I waved him off. He turned, patted the finned, thin-barreled death ray hanging on his hip, and walked out of there to go meet our newest contractor.
That was when a Directory servant, one of many hired to help the Directors find and wipe their asse while they were distracted with other things, walked up carrying a tray holding a wireless phone on it. Not a cell phone, but a home phone without a wire.
“Who’s calling for me?” I asked.
The servant bowed. “That is correct, Empress.”
I blinked a couple of times, then took the phone and addressed the head of my Intelligence Service. “Hey there, Hu.”
“Greetings, Empress. I need to discuss a matter of urgency with you, but I was forced to leave the island on an errand.” I heard gunshots in the background.
“Must be pretty important to call in the middle of a firefight. Mind if I ask where you are?”
“It would be better if you didn’t know. There are diplomatic concern at stake,” he said.
Somewhere in the background, I heard shouting in Spanish. “Protect the ambassador!”
“You’d be surprised how many countries speak Spanish,” I told Hu.
“I am certain I would be, Empress,” he responded. “I have come to the realization that field work is not my area of expertise. My leadership skills, too, are questionable.”
“Hey, don’t say that. You didn’t do too bad a job coordinating the evacuation and salvaging what was left so it wasn’t build completely from scratch.”
“Yes, Empress. You flatter me. I should say I am a bureaucrat to my soul. The Service needs an individual with true leadership potential.”
“What about you? It’s quite a thing to give up leading the bunch. How about you stay on as second in command? Help handle all the mundane stuff that looks less inspiring for the Head to do,” I looked up as another servant approached, bowed, and held out a manila envelope. “Is this your package I’m seeing?”
“I am going to assume you mean the envelope I asked to be delivered to you. Yes, that is from me. It contains files on three candidates I feel you could trust in. I would be more than happy to coordinate a test of their abilities and loyalty for you.”
I took the envelope and popped it open. “Truth is, I’m more disappointed that everyone’s relying on paper today.” I opened it up. “And typewriters. Wow. I’m not sure I actually came back to the present after that time travel trip. Tell me, Hu, how far back did I go? Are doctors recommending smoking as healthy way to lose weight and eliminate stress?”
“My most majestic eminence, computers can be hacked. Files may be intercepted. Paper burns. Those are the only copies in all under heaven.”
“Good man. You’re right, you’re right. Same way Russia’s been able to hide stuff from people for so long.” I really need a digital equivalent, but he’s right. Any code can be broken, even the otherworldly stuff I use. I could have every damn Riccan Intelligence Service computer using my home dimension’s coding, and I’d probably just end up with someone smuggling a key to another country.
Hmm. An idea comes to mind already. Paper-thin camo sheet like that on the exterior of the Pyscho Flyers. To everyone else, it appears to be a normal poster, or magazine page, or flyer. Then the right person touches a hidden DNA scanner while wearing augmented reality contacts and it to display the image just for them. It’s brilliant and perfect for fieldwork.
It’s also more expensive than just burning paper, too. I’d be stuck with paper while everyone’s running off doing cool shit with high tech spy gizmos. Speaking of gizmos, though…
“Actually, you don’t have have to worry about a test. I have something in mind I can take these guys on.. well, not this one, I already know that.” Hu had nominated the same agent I’d personally brought back from the United States, the one whose son had refused to stay with him in the business of aiding an overseas dictator in favor of helping a bunch of teenage superhero friends instead. The father’s loyalties were clearly torn on this point. “I’ll give these two a chance helping me out with something and we’ll see how things turn out. Thank you for your Service.”
He continued speaking at his normal volume despite the abundance of shredding guitars and cutesy Japanese being sung by young girls. “The Empress honors me. If you will it, I must end this call.”
“I will it and so it shall be,” I said, trying to sound all majestic and commanding. “Enjoy your concert.” I hunt up on him then and handed the phone back to the first servant, along with one of the pieces of paper. “Bring over a trash can, set those inside, and burn them all.”
The servant bowed and hurried off to do so. The other one stayed as well, awaiting my command. I checked over the files of the two candidates left. I tore off just the name portions and handed them to the man. “Find these two and have them meet me at the military base.” I looked down and activated the augmented reality overlay, then saved encrypted files attached to the paper. They each were to get a copy of Dr. Creeper’s shopping list and instructions to find locations with the equipment, prioritizing targets that can account for as much of the list as possible at once. “Give them each their scrap and tell them to take a close look. Off with you.”
He bowed and left.
I looked around the legislature hard at work on the minutia of running the civilian end of things and stretched. Then I stood and began taking out the golden comb and other weird doodads that Citra had elaborately wpven into my hair. Some of the Directors even noticed as my lower arms began to loosen the dress I wore, but they soon found themselves staring at my new armor instead of my bare body. Form-fitting, dark grey with orange lines between each of the flexible plates. I pulled the hood up and closed it entirely, leaving not even a mouth exposed for attack thanks to several add-ons I’d made for armor and utility. I flexed all four arms, showing off the orange Eastern dragon design that ended with the heads encompassing blue-accented gloves which concealed my power sheathe technology instead of any bulky gauntlets or pistons. I reached up to the midnight blue collar and tapped the central jewel, causing a shorter version of my black and blue cape to drop from the rear of the collar armor.
I looked out at the Directors, some of whom were definitely appreciating that the armor’s lack of padding and bulk. Those didn’t enjoy being under the gaze of my visor, which dipped in the middle enough to resemble something of a frown in combination with the fanged mouth armor concealing a filter and other equipment. “Don’t mind me, everyone. Just gotta get dressed to go out shopping.”
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Comin’ at ya slightly earlier tonight for reasons completely unrelated to Optimal Outer Control not having slept for 27 hours and counting.
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