Carlie McPherson
Civilian Official
President, Colony of Terra of the 12 Colonies of Kobol
Posts: 129
Registered: Sept 20, 2010 16:23:42 GMT -6
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Post by Carlie McPherson on Oct 24, 2012 20:44:10 GMT -6
Carlie listened to Clayton but kept her attention on Drexl. His suaveness was no mask for her. She knew who and what he really was. Still, the man was a genius and the key to Terran freedom. She took his comment about the civilian government in stride.
Yes, you keep thinking we're so inept. You'll learn soon enough just how far we've come my dear Drexl.
"Well, thankfully we have the accomplished leadership of the Judge to steer us in the right direction. Colonel, I don't want you to think we're going to be having you perform mundane administrative duties. Gina and myself will take care of the labor issues but I must say I am truly interested in hearing more on this idea of employee ownership."
Carlie was about to continue when she noticed the Colonial President heading their way. She instinctively rose from her seat and greeted him.
"Why Mr. President, it's again a pleasure to see you. Please, join us."
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Phineas Doral
Cylon Command Staff
Former Colonial President
I love humans, really. That's why I defected.
Posts: 326
Registered: Jul 25, 2009 22:22:21 GMT -6
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Post by Phineas Doral on Oct 24, 2012 21:16:20 GMT -6
Phineas walked up slowly to the little group, unsure if he should. He was surprised by the Terran representatives rather upbeat welcome. He surmised it could be the effects of the ale. He had always considered the woman to be rather stuffy, not the fun-loving type. Looking at Colonel Dualla, Phineas winked then turned his attentions to the Terran woman.
"Miss McPherson, always a pleasure to see you. And you must be the infamous Doctor Drexl. Phineas Doral at your service."
Phineas had read the report on this man. He would be keeping a close eye on the developments coming out of Eresea. He was glad the Judge was here. Now there was a human who actually terrified him a little. She wasn't weak like most of the humans he had met, no, she was cold and calculating. She showed her prowess in getting Clayton Dualla to come on board.
"So, Director Dualla, they're not ganging up on you here, are they?"
Phineas looked at the young woman seated to the left of Drexl. So pretty. She must be the one from Helios.
"You must be Gina. I've heard good things about your performance. I look forward to working with you. Well, if you'll excuse me, I'd like a word with the Director here, then I'll let you folks get back to your little soiree."
Phineas moved about twenty meters from the group, Clayton coming over as well. Phineas moved his head closer to Clayton's ear, speaking softly.
"Be careful Colonel. I have my reservations about this Drexl's intentions. And keep your eye on the one from Helios. She may be young, but I assure you there is more than meets the eye there. Your best ally is the Gondawan, Demetrius. Don't let his aloofness fool you. He's here in case things go south. Give 'em hell Colonel. We'll all meet tomorrow."
Phineas straightened up, patted Clayton on the back once, turned and waved to the others and then turned to exit the galley, the Vice President and the Marine escort in tow.
Yes, tomorrow would be the start of hopefully something good for the Colonials and terrans. Let's just hope egos don't go frakking things up.
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Clayton Dualla
Colonial Retired
Colonel
Terran Senior Technical Advisor
Posts: 5,380
Registered: Jul 3, 2011 19:48:16 GMT -6
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Post by Clayton Dualla on Oct 25, 2012 17:35:46 GMT -6
The women looked away from the table, and Clayton followed the gaze to see a Cylon advancing. He recognized the Five as Phineas Doral, President of the Colonies. Even though all copies of a particular model are physically identical, they adopt idiosyncrasies as would any human. Clayton knew that it was Doral from another Five just as he would have been able to recognize Alexandra Skulbaka from any Eight. He watched while the President greeted Carlie McPhereson, then Drexl. He waited his turn.
When it came, he wondered what was going on. The President calling him Director! There was only one Director, and the man's face was a tightly-controlled mask that held in the rage at what Clayton knew to be a barb. Dualla responded good-natruedly by spreading his hands.
"Wish I could claim that title, Mr. President, but I bow to Director Drexl here. I'm an Adviser, nothing more." Clayton hoped that would mollify Drexl, but he was sure it would not. He would now have to watch the man twice as closely, and the President just as much so. Doral was up to something, and Clayton didn't like what it looked like. He didn't appreciate being swept into office in order to sweep someone else out. Sure, Drexl may deserve it, but Clayton Dualla never considered himself a hatchet-man.
When the President leaned over, Clayton cocked his head and kept a smile on, nodding all the while. If Drexl could read lips, he's know what was being said if Doral hadn't turned his head away from the Terran. What he heard was both unsurprising and illuminating though unexpected. Demetrius his best ally? He didnt' look aloof, he looked buffoonish. Ah, the old idiot act. Clayton could see that it worked very well here, where animosity toward Gondawans was still strong. He would keep that in his back pocket, unless Doral had some grand scheme that involved them all, and he was the real puppeteer instead of Judith. It was only Clayton's memories of Alex that allowed him to give Doral the benefit of the doubt. She was trustworthy, so perhaps he was.
"Good Night, Mister President. See you in the morning. " He watched the Cylon's back retreat casually, not bothering to look back. He certainly had enough spies to report on the quartet at the table. Gently slapping both palms down onto the table, the Colonial rose.
"I hate to be boorish in the face of all this Terran hospitality, but it is time for me to turn in. Good night, Ms. McPhereson, Ms, Kao'la'ha, Director Drexl." He put emphasis on the word to tell the man that Dualla was not after his job. Unfortnately, somebody may be after it for Clayton.
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Demetrius Gorno
Civilian Official
Secretary of Terran Security
Posts: 33
Registered: Jan 17, 2011 19:06:43 GMT -6
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Post by Demetrius Gorno on Oct 25, 2012 20:43:42 GMT -6
Demetrius nodded to the Colonial President. He was not keen on the man being here in the heart of enemy territory with only a few Marines and the Vice President to protect him but his orders from the new Council were clear: carry himself as the Gondawan representative until the situation dictated something different. They weren't looking for an uprising but they were certain Drexl was looking to drive deeper the divisions that still separated this planet from unity. Demetrius wasn't sure what the President was telling the Colonial Colonel but from his slap in the face remark that had to be directed towards Drexl, he as certain it was meant to show the man the Colonials weren't here with their hat in their hands.
How Drexl managed to keep from exploding was beyond Demetrius. He chuckled when the President referred to Dualla as Director and Demetrius knew it wasn't some slip of the tongue. The Caliph, before his death months ago, had remarked that the Colonial President was someone to be watched and watched closely. He was a Cylon, and for that reason, he could not be fully trusted, even if he was the second Cylon to be entrusted as the Colonial's leader. Demetrius had only been around the man once and was personally convinced that his interests were the same as the humans. Still, he would heed the advice given to him. And give his life in protecting the man, if necessary. For now, it was time to get some sleep. Demetrius waited until the President and his entourage had departed before getting up and leaving.
He couldn't wait until tomorrow to see what would happen next.
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Clayton Dualla
Colonial Retired
Colonel
Terran Senior Technical Advisor
Posts: 5,380
Registered: Jul 3, 2011 19:48:16 GMT -6
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Post by Clayton Dualla on Oct 27, 2012 17:30:10 GMT -6
RESIDENTIAL SECTION Clayton entered his quarters and locked the door. The comfortable apartment welcomed him with its cleanliness and order. Much nicer than quarters aboard a Battlestar, less than the luxury suites on yachts. It suited him fine. He stripped off the gold velour pullover and then the black loafers and slacks. He looked at the shoes and began to have an idea. Yes, maybe it would make a nice military uniform. Replace the loafers with boots, shorten the trousers and flare the cuffs for easy fit. He planned to sit down and sketch out something for whatever the quartermaster division was called, materiel, logistics, whatever. The shower felt good. The water was soft. Maybe it was desalinated by distillation. The minerals were removed. The drinking water was not so flat. Maybe from an artesian well, or the trace minerals that give water a taste were added back in. They had good technology as far as water was concerned, but FTL, Tylium fusion, and the more esoteric things that Judith mentioned required a lot more than that. Tomorrow was the beginning of finding out. Climbing in the bed nude, Clayton pulled up the sheet and turned out the light. This was not his first night on Terra, but it was the first night of his new life here.
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James Sirius Zachary Drexl
Civilian Official
Director, Terran R&D
Life, which you so nobly serve, comes from destruction, disorder and chaos
Posts: 97
Registered: Oct 9, 2012 18:40:26 GMT -6
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Post by James Sirius Zachary Drexl on Oct 27, 2012 18:06:45 GMT -6
James watched the Cylon warily, behind a mask of casual friendliness. His papa had taught him to always hide his cards, and that included his face. It was nearly impossible to, after the Colonial President insulted him. If they had been two simple men, he would have challenged Doral to a duel. It wouldn't matter how fast the Cylon's reflexes were, James would have made sure that they would have been at the very least on a level playing field, but more than likely that the Five would have had something go wrong with his pistol. Frak him that he would have resurrected somewhere, but there weren't any cylon ships in the vicinity. There would be an evening of the score, James declared in his head.
He watched Dualla's feeble attempt to correct the slighting. He would deal with Dualla later, if only to make sure that he couldn't be in a position to take the rightful place of James Sirius Zachary Drexl. Drexl had worked, schemed, lied, bribed, blackmailed, murdered, too much to get where he was. And now, with sales of arms to the Brown Coats in full swing, he wasn't going to have that golden goose cooked!
"Good night, Colonel Dualla. Sleep well," James said, extra honey poured over those words to hide the anger and contempt for the offworlders.
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Demetrius Gorno
Civilian Official
Secretary of Terran Security
Posts: 33
Registered: Jan 17, 2011 19:06:43 GMT -6
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Post by Demetrius Gorno on Oct 27, 2012 23:16:09 GMT -6
Demetrious entered the quarters that had been drawn for him. It was a simple room but clean. He had to hand it to the terrans, they had rebuilt their society rather fast, faster than the old Council had predicted. The time had come for the Gondawans to move out from their enclave in the Highlands. Many had already done so, intermarrying among the terrans for some years now but more needed to be done to complete the healing process.
He was tired, not just physically but mentally and emotionally. He had lost the love of his life a few years prior to the return of the Colonials, the result of hatred between the old guard terrans and the ruling tribe of the Gondawans. The Judge was a descendant of that old guard. She hadn't risen to her current position by accident. So many times the terrans were close to annihilating the Gondawans and so many times it had been the Judge or her predecessors who had prevented it from happening. It would be interesting to watch her dance with Drexl, to say the least. For now, Demetrious was only concerned with getting some sorely needed sleep.
Climbing between the sheet and blanket, his thoughts returned to a simpler time, in the lush grassland area of the Highlands, to a girl, to a kiss....
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Marla Johanssen
Terran Spec Ops.
Terran Spec Ops
Yeah, I am SpecOps
Posts: 106
Registered: Oct 22, 2010 14:28:57 GMT -6
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Post by Marla Johanssen on Oct 27, 2012 23:31:10 GMT -6
Marla stood there, in the shadows, observing those who left the cafeteria building. It was cold, wet and dark but her training did not notice any of it. Demetrius, the fool. She would deal with him in her own good time. As for the Judge, there was nothing that she could do about that. She would have to step lightly around the woman, or she was certain to find herself somewhere she would rather not be.
The Colonial President and Vice President were safe, for now. She had already made contact with her people back home and several were now on their way here, under cover. It had been a necessary evil for many years to have operatives inside the military and government. Someone had to watch the ruling elite, otherwise things would revert back to what they were shortly after the terrible times. Left to their own devices, the elite would kill themselves off.
Unfortunately, they would wind up taking everyone else with them.
Drexl. Now there was a problem. She knew he was selling illegal arms to the rebels here on terra. He was suspected of providing weapons to the stranded cylons in the Orlan Forest, stranded from their failed invasion some fifteen years ago. Now he was suspected of dealing with the Colonial rebels known as the Brown Coats. She would love to just walk up to the man, put a weapon in his face and pull the trigger repeatedly. She couldn't do that. It would never be authorized and as much as she was a free agent, she couldn't just pull that one off. No, a stunt like that required planning, lots of it. It had to look like an accident, a legitimate one. A piece of mining equipment falling on his head would be nice, not practical, but nice. No lab explosions though, too easy to point to an assassination attempt. Same with failed brakes on a surface vehicle. No, it would have to be something so spectacular, it had to be an unfortunate accident. For now, she would keep her eyes on the man. It was all she could do, under the circumstances.
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Carlie McPherson
Civilian Official
President, Colony of Terra of the 12 Colonies of Kobol
Posts: 129
Registered: Sept 20, 2010 16:23:42 GMT -6
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Post by Carlie McPherson on Nov 1, 2012 20:21:54 GMT -6
Carlie had barely laid on the bed when a knock came at the door. She got up, pulling on her robe. Peering through the peep hole, she couldn't tell who or what was on the other side.
"Who is it?"
The voice from the other side of the door was young, somewhat familiar.
"I have a message from your uncle."
Carlie immediately opened the door, pulling the person inside. She had no uncle of course, this was a long forgotten and long not used code. Something was wrong, very wrong. Her superiors would not have sent someone from Corinth unless there was a situation.
"How did you get here? Never mind that, you can't be seen here. However you got here, get out of here. No, wait."
Carlie took the piece of paper from the young woman, opening it and reading the message, which was in code. Years of training had taught Carlie how to read the coded messages without the need for de-coding them. She took the paper to the sink in the small kitchen area, took out a book of wooden matches and lit the paper on fire, dropping it in the sink. Turning to the young woman, she spoke sternly.
"Tell them the message has been received and I will make contact when possible. Now, go before someone sees you, especially in that uniform."
The young woman nodded and turned toward the door. Pausing, she turned to look at Carlie.
"I have orders to wait 48 hours before leaving. Thirty kilometers north of the city, near the base of the small mountain range, where the mining facility is located. Forty eight hours, no more."
With that statement, the young woman opened the door and left. Carlie stood there, thinking.
In forty eight hours, if the message is true, it really won't matter.
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Clayton Dualla
Colonial Retired
Colonel
Terran Senior Technical Advisor
Posts: 5,380
Registered: Jul 3, 2011 19:48:16 GMT -6
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Post by Clayton Dualla on Nov 2, 2012 19:40:47 GMT -6
Clayton could sleep both soundly and lightly at the same time. He could be in REM sleep and immediately pop to full wakefulness. It was something that caused just such a thing to happen. He rested in bed, seemingly asleep, as he heard faint sounds, a soft scraping. Some kind of panel was moving, and it wasnt' hung perfectly. It wouldn't drag otherwise. He let his hearing pick it up. judging it to be near the ceiling against the far wall. Someone was opening a secret door and entering the room. If they had a gun, he was dead meat. If it was a knive or such, he had a chance.
Hearing a louder scrape that stopped suddenly, he knew that the intruder had frozen because the door had made too much sound. Dualla used that opportunity to roll out of bed, away from the intruder. he fell to the floor and reached for the curtain that ran along the wall behind his bed. It was a good place to put the window, because Dualla yanked the curtain down and let the outdoor security floodlights flow into the room. He heard a light clatter on the ground, and then there was silence. The wall panel was closed.
Silently, Clayton stepped to the wall door and tried to find a seam. There was nothing that he could feel, much less get a fingernail into. No wonder it creaked, it's a completely flush fit. Well, he wasn't going back to sleep, but he wasn't going to turn on the light in the bedroom so that passersby could gaze at a naked Colonial. He gently brushed his feet along the carpet until the left one passed over something. It was hard, though mostly flat, and had some protruberances on it. Lowering, Clayton picked it up. Turning it over in the light, he saw the glasslike structure, the hair-thin contacts, and the almost imperceptable transistors and processors embedded in what was the most sophisticated chip he had ever beheld in his life. Someone had left him a present. Was it a gift, or was there going to be a price to be paid later on? Clayton was sure that it was the latter.
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James Sirius Zachary Drexl
Civilian Official
Director, Terran R&D
Life, which you so nobly serve, comes from destruction, disorder and chaos
Posts: 97
Registered: Oct 9, 2012 18:40:26 GMT -6
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Post by James Sirius Zachary Drexl on Nov 3, 2012 19:51:15 GMT -6
Fracking hussies! What in the world is happening to put Schwein, McPherson and that Mini-Me Kao'La'Ha in the same place at the same time. Add to it the skin-job Colonial President and his sidekick, and last but not least, the slapstick Gondawan? Something's big, only a fool'd miss, and James Sirius Zachary Drexl is no fool! His mama didn't raise up a simpleton.
James took his leave of the table and the celebration, that should've wound down hours ago. He wondered who was tucking the Colonel into bed. Maybe Schwein was telling him a story? He seemed to be buying her guff hook, line, and sinker. Being a technological wizard isn't worth a plugged cubit if the wizard is a moron, and Dualla didn't look to savvy. Still, Drexl didn't get where he was by writing off his foes. He would maneuver them till he had them where he wanted them, then it was time to meet their maker, wheter it be a pantheon or a so-called 'true' god. James knew that the only real god was the one that was legal tender for all debts, public and private.
He retired to his personal quarters, which led to his own personal fortress in the bedrock. It was even deeper than the ones for the leaders, and James had designed it that way. The shelters above were built to focus and then dissipate any blasts. If a nuke fell on this mountain, the main shelter would form crumple-zones to keep the bedrock from splitting, and from the shock reaching the only important shelter, his.
He made sure that the drapes were drawn tight before pulling a small transciever out. It operated in a spectrum that believed to not even exist, so esoteric was it. He had scanned the quarters for bugs. The last time he found one, an unfortunate mid-level functionary had been found on the beach, half of his body gone. The tooth marks had knotted the panties of the marine biologists, and they finally decided that it was a supposedly-extinct species that probably inhabited the depths and had somehow come near the surface, where the thrashing of a human body in the surf had triggered the same responses that sharks used. It was a good tale, and James was still proud of how well the boondoggle worked.
He entered a code into the machine. He did not bother to use code with this setup. There was nothing in existence that could detect it. "They're all here." The speaker rumbled with a menacing tone that gave James the heebie-jeebies. He knew it had to be synthesized to do just that, and it bothered him no matter how he dismissed it as a parlor trick. "All right," he replied, and heard the connection break. He always felt uneasy after these calls, and this was no exception.
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TerraOps
Terran Civilian
Chief, Terran Operations
Terra-beautiful, mysterious, but not what you think.
Posts: 403
Registered: Oct 30, 2010 21:41:12 GMT -6
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Post by TerraOps on Nov 4, 2012 19:42:23 GMT -6
As Junior Administrator Gina Kao'la'ha, Eresean Administration (NPC)Gina had retired to her assigned quarters and was ready for some badly needed sleep. She wondered what it would be like to work around the charismatic Drexl. She had heard of his works, both on and off the record. There always seemed to be rumors of this and that surrounding those who were in the elite but the rumors that involved Drexl were much more sinister sounding, bodies disappearing and appearing under unusual circumstances. Gina knew to be aware of her surroundings, it went with the job and the years of training. She felt some what safer with all this other brass here but she would feel so much better if some of her own people were present. Gina was about to climb into bed when she heard a sound outside her room, a soft knocking sound. Peering through the drapes, she saw a figure, a female. Almost immediately, the figure was pulled into the room next to hers. Carlie's room. Gina knew something was up but what? Taking out a small object from her purse, she pushed a series of buttons. "I sure hope someone is paying attention out there."
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TerraOps
Terran Civilian
Chief, Terran Operations
Terra-beautiful, mysterious, but not what you think.
Posts: 403
Registered: Oct 30, 2010 21:41:12 GMT -6
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Post by TerraOps on Nov 7, 2012 21:58:28 GMT -6
As Major Adam Keran, Terran Fleet Advisor/Special Ops (NPC) Major Adam Keran had finally arrived on Eresea, the stealth raptor having successfully landing undetected. He was still in awe at the technological wonders that the Colonial Fleet had at its disposal. Of course, the Terran Fleet also had most of that technology at its own fingertips, not all, but most of it. He knew that there were reasons for the Colonials not sharing everything with them and the fact that the Colonials and Terrans were about to collaborate on new technology was a sign that things were about to go to a whole new level. It was that collaboration that had sent him here, not so much as to get directly involved but to keep an eye out for any monkey business. Hours ago, he had been sitting at home, getting ready to have dinner with his family when the knock had come at his door, two Terran troops standing there. He knew eventually he would get the call to come to Eresea but he didn't think it would come this soon. Hell, the talks and production hadn't even begun and already the greed mongers and power grabbers were up to something. On top of that, the Judge was here, as well as two government types to add to the mix. Then there was the Colonial president and vice-president, not to mention the former Colonial Colonel Dualla. He was hoping that the stories surrounding Colonel Dualla's knowledge and abilities were true. If not, then the sneaky Drexl would be certain to take control of the project, in more ways than he cared to think about. For now, Adam needed to get in contact with the person who had sent the encoded message. If Drexl was up to something, he would have to act fast to neutralize any attempts to derail this collaboration, or to use it for his own designs. Drexl was smart though, he would be certain to insulate himself from any direct evidence that would cause the man to even remotely appear guilty of treason or subversion. Killing the man was not an option. Had it been, Terran Special Ops would have taken care of that long ago. No, the Judge was clear-nobody touched Drexl, at least not for anytime in the foreseen future. No, there were worse problems than Drexl, of a person could believe that. Well, there's only two people who could have sent that message and I'm betting it wasn't a certain prissy woman from Corinth. That only leaves a junior administrator. Gotta make certain to not be discovered, at least not for a few more hours." Looking at the three soldiers with him, Adam gave them their orders. "Stay here, set up a camp but keep it hidden. There aren't any patrols out this way but you never know. If you are discovered, non lethal force, got it?" The three soldiers all nodded in unison. "I'm heading down to the base, make contact and then get out of there, unless the situation calls for me to present myself. If that happens, you'll get word and further instructions. Sergeant, you're in charge. Remember, this isn't exactly friendly territory, so be invisible. I'll be in touch soon." With that, Adam made his way towards the base and into the unknown, thinking to himself. Sometimes I wonder if the pay if really worth it.
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Clayton Dualla
Colonial Retired
Colonel
Terran Senior Technical Advisor
Posts: 5,380
Registered: Jul 3, 2011 19:48:16 GMT -6
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Post by Clayton Dualla on Nov 9, 2012 21:02:05 GMT -6
A soft musical number from somewhere in the room woke Clayton. He hadn't seen an alarm clock or even a clock radio. The speakers had to be hidden in the walls, or even part of the walls themselves. Flat-panel speakers were used in high-end homes before the attack on the Colonies, and they were useful for their unobtrusiveness. He sat up slowly because he was a tad woozy after downing so much sake with Drexl last night. He would eventually find out if he won or lost, and how the contest was being rated.
His curtains were closed, so he got out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. He cound the medicine cabinet to be well-stocked with toiletries, and that the linen closet was full of plush towels. He took his shower, as hot as he could stand it, then proceeded to shave his face. There was no reason to shave his scalp for the radiation exposure from the black hole that had caused him to originally lose his hair had caused it to stop altogether on his head.
Next, he padded back to the bedroom closet to see what else they had put together for him. He hadn't really dug into it upon seeing his favorite outfit in front. Clayton didn't want to wear that two days in a row, as if it were a uniform. He still liked the idea of turning it into one. Today's outfit was more of something he would perform in. Tight black slacks, an open shirt and a jacket in a powder blue. All he needed was the blond wig and he could step right into character. He would have to put on a show sometime for the people here, if the powers that be gave the OK. He was pretty sure that they would welcome the diversion of a concert. But he was aware of the seriousness of the business at hand, and was conscious of a feeling of menace. The old clairvoyance kicking up again, or a good old hunch? Either one pointed to a single source: James Sirius Zachary Drexl. The man was smooth, he was slick, he could be a gentleman of the old order, and he was powerful. Clayton had no illusions that such a combination would make it tempting for anyone, but his lack of familiarity with the disfigured man brought on a natural mistrust. He would ask Judith - if he ever saw her again - for some history on the man. That he was powerful went without question. That he was where he was meant that the Terrans thought him valuable enough to entrust with the development of the world's weapons. But, did they share the same suspicion that Dualla had? Was the Colonial meant to be a foil to the Terran, a counterbalance? If so, then Clayton had a right to know what he was balancing. He would give the man his due, respecting his technical competence, but battle-trained senses had taught him how to notice the signs. Drexl was almost a stereotypical villain.
What Clayton wanted to get to was work, to get into a computer to see what he had to deal with and how he could incorporate his knowledge and ideas to it.
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James Sirius Zachary Drexl
Civilian Official
Director, Terran R&D
Life, which you so nobly serve, comes from destruction, disorder and chaos
Posts: 97
Registered: Oct 9, 2012 18:40:26 GMT -6
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Post by James Sirius Zachary Drexl on Nov 10, 2012 23:37:42 GMT -6
DREXL CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS, CITY OF CORINTH The multitoned grey building stood amid a small park. It was designed as a wide obelisk on a base that tapered from ground level, giving it the appearance of being a temple. And a temple it was, a temple to the genius, drive, and, some would say, the cutthroat business savvy of the man whose name the building bore in large illuminated letters: James Sirius Zachary Drexl. Though some had protested loudly that it was a conflict of interest that the Director of Terran military research and development also be the president of the largest defense contractor on the planet, Drexl was indeed both. Over the years since his appontment, his critics either suddenly changed face, becoming his staunchest supporters, or they met with fatal accidents that could always be explained as exactly that, accidents. The causes were always found, and there was never any evidence that they were anything other than accidents. The building that graced the center of the park was just the tip of the iceberg. The facility extended fifty levels below the ground, and covered twenty acres of the city. In one particular room of the sprawling underground complex, designers were working on a new vehicle. It did not bear the look of standard Colonial or Terran fighters in that it was not aerodynamic at all. Far larger than a Viper or similar craft, the forward portion looked like an inverted-Y in cross-section. Very large-bore guns sprouted from the front fascia of all three lobes. A single cockpit rose from the spine behind the vertical lobe, and this set off the size of the craft. A single fin extended up behind the cockpit, and the inverted-Y shape was repeated to lesser extent by the twin sponsons that bore thrust engines. This was a pure space fighter, and that meant that it had to have a home base. Too large to be launched by any Battlestar, it had to have a mother ship if its own. That was what the designers were beginning to create.
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