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SYNC From: IIS, To: Elysian Senate [PRIORITY CHANNEL]

Ethereal

Banned Member
The logo of IIS, a well-known company, flares up on the message as it loads. The image blinks into life, a young brunette Patrician with striking wings comes into view. Her chest is heaving, eyes and wings twitching in distress.

"Hello?" She begins in Seraphim, "I'm- Nevermind who I am. Myself and more than a dozen Elysians are about to be forcefully taken hostage by heavily armed men belonging to the Frontier Service Corporation on 188604. We're surrounded by a hostile mob that wants us ripped apart and there is no law enforcement on this planet." She wore a brave face as her caste often did, though a deep nervous swallow betrayed her.

"This message is to plead our government for assistance, our lives may be at risk as these people are known to be hostile to us in the past - they nearly destroyed one of our ships a few months ago along with the crew. Their leader is Candon Suites, a SAINT age-..."

The image flickers as her words die from the audio feed, a big CONNECTION LOST screen flashing up.

 
Antoni nearly spat his drink out.

Elysians trapped on that wasteland of a planet. While technically they had revoked their citizenships by working for a Yamataian company on 188604, at the core Antoni knew that he had a job protecting the common Elysian.

At the very least, it would give him a chance to flex his wings and send an attack fleet. It would also raise his public standing -- although it was never called into question.

Tactical disassembly, Antoni. Who would be interested? Barachiel, first. His wife. And...the Star Army? A rogue SAINT was out loose, it seemed.

Tap, tap, tap. Forward to all three. Add a note to forward to whoever you wished for the first two.

Make a meeting place to discuss plan of action. Done.

He got up and walked to the meeting place. Now to wait for replies.

 
Barachiel, alone in his office and exhausted after yet another day wasted by his fellow "honorable colleagues" grandstanding hour after hour after hour after goddamn hour in the Senate, let out a strangled curse of pure rage, for he knew - oh, he knew - what was going to happen: nothing.

Nothing, because it was going to be a repeat of that one despicable affair involving a Caelisolan and a psychotic heretic: the motion to address the issue would be added to one of the dozens upon dozens of "urgent items" on the Senate's seemingly-infinite list of motions to be presented and - just like the aforementioned affair - would be promptly ignored, forgotten about, or cast aside as his fellow "honorable colleagues" engaged in debates, counter-debates, counter-counter-debates, counter-counter-counter-debates, and counter-counter-counter-counter-debates over pointless bureaucratic miniuatae that no one outside of the Senate gave a damn about!

Nothing, and it wasn't just a single Caelisolan teenager whose life at stake this time - oh, no. It was the lives of over a dozen Elysians - and worse, a failure to act would make the Empire the laughingstock of the galactic community. And with the International Relations Conference so close...

No, he thought to himself. Something had to be done - but how? Elysia didn't have an intelligence service or a military, and the military police, after suffering from years of budget cuts and political appointees, lacked the equipment and mental capacity required for such a task - hell, his own daughter, Selaphiel, was brighter, smarter, and more cunning then any ten of those ignorant foo-Wait a moment.

The Patrician paused mid-thought as he remembered something the ever-watchful Selaphiel had reported to him: one of her many friends had overheard one of their friend's brother telling one of his friends about how he'd heard from another friend's sister that her cousin's sister was unhappy with how her boss - a Neko in Logistics - was taking out her frustration over the latest batch of transfer's lackluster performance on her. He frowned, deep in thought - then smiled, no, grinned as it struck him. It would cost him quite a few of the favors he'd accrued over the years, would require a massive amount of funds, and was very, very risky - but he had a good feeling about it.

Barachiel got up and began making his way to the meeting place Antoni had specified, his former weariness nowhere to be seen as the beginnings of a truly epic plot began taking shape in his mind...
 
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