In the underground League complex, McAllister lounged on a divan, waiting
for the return of Alan Evan Fairfield V. The puppets of Magic thought they
had gone undetected by the League, but little did they know how wrong they
had been! Soon, Fairfield would bring home some valuable information about
the would-be insurgents and help bring a close to their divisive
underground movement. For the moment, however, there were some issues that
needed to be brought up with Vladimir.
"Vladimir, what do I do if the leader of the Movement should happen to be someone near and dear to me?" he asked nonchalantly, slung out on the couch.
"Did you even need to ask, Commander? You would deal with him the same way you deal with any other enemy of the League," Vladimir laughed, punching his left fist into his right palm.
"But I ain't entirely sure that we ain't done some things that might be reprehensible," McAllister drawled, slouching into the divan.
Just as the discussion between Vladimir and Jim was about to become a circular argument, a tall, red-bearded Englishman in a three-piece suit entered the complex. Jim and Vladimir both knew precisely who that was: Alan Evan Fairfield V, sent to track the Movement and its top agents. Obviously, they were both eager to hear the information Fairfield had been able to glean.
"So, Fairfield, what does this movement call itself?" Vladimir inquired, his right hand stroking his chin.
"The rebels identify their group as the Free Terran Alliance," Fairfield replied, his face unemotional and his posture stiff.
"I see. Where is their major base, to the best of your knowledge?" Vladimir continued, sighing impatiently.
"Their main known base is in the Shinjuku city ward; knowledge of the exact location is impossible, however, due to their system of safehouses and never holding a meeting in the same location twice," Fairfield stated, hoping his lies were fooling Vladimir.
"Very good. And who, pray tell, is their leader?" Vladimir concluded, studying Fairfield carefully for any sign that he was telling a falsehood or withholding information.
"They are led by a Japanese girl by the name of Naru Osaka," Fairfield lied, hesitating for a split second before saying it.
Thank goodness that it's nobody I know, McAllister whispered to
himself, relieved that there would be no moral dilemma to have to sort out.
"Very well, then, Fairfield, you are dismissed," Vladimir ordered,
much to
Fairfield's relief; he still couldn't believe that Vladimir had
swallowed all the lies that he
had cooked up.
"So, Vladimir, do you have a plan?" Jim inquired, noticeably relieved from the pressure of a potential moral dilemma.
"As a matter of fact, I do," Vladimir replied, chortling to himself. "First, we send a team of Eyes of Terra, led by Major Fairfield, to find out any weaknesses the Scouts might have, including ties of family or friendship, favored trinkets, and locations within the city that have sentimental value. Next, we send forces in to ruin the things they love, which will take most of them out of the picture due to psychological stresses and make at least one of them into a homicidal, angry-at-the-world maniac. If the one rogue elephant in the herd does not do enough damage to the Scouts' reputation, I happen to have Senshi look-alikes that will finish the job. There will be chaos in the streets as the Tokyo Police Force-and possibly the JSDF-battle with the Senshi in the streets. With this going on and with the people caught in the crossfire, there will be cries for new, stronger leadership. This is where my connections within the Japanese Socialist Party will come in. We simply handpick a candidate who is willing to run and win on a law-and-order platform and who will be willing to take orders from us and the rest should fall into place," Vladimir explained, obviously quite proud of all the planning he had done. Everything will fall into place, my friend, but not quite as you predict!
"Vladimir, that is brilliant! I'm not quite sure I could've done any better myself," Jim beamed, also pleased with the results of Vladimir's work.
"Now then, we will have to assemble a team, but that should not take more than a week or two," Vladimir assured Jim, with a straight posture and proud demeanor that reflected his certainty.
As Vladimir plotted and planned how he would pave a clear road to Earth for his masters back on Nemesis, Fairfield came up with a plot of his own. I'll play along with what I predict Vladimir wishes to do-namely, to set up Japan as a landing pad for his extraterrestrial masters, Fairfield mused. There's no chance they'll ever connect me to his scheme, though, because of my connections with Col. Rhodes, who I am grooming to lead the Union for Terran Sovereignty, he continued to himself. Once the threat of Nemesis is dealt with, his group will be the seed of a new order-one in which Terrans reign supreme as far as their space fleets shall reach!, he thundered in his mind, chortling maniacally to himself.
Just then, he heard a knock on the door. Fairfield jumped to attention, almost sure this was some superior officer, but relaxed noticeably once he got a clearer look at the person opening the door. In spite of the owl- eyed glasses and cheap three-piece suit that he wore and a hairstyle that probably resulted more from neglect, the man here commanded international respect for his work on genetic diseases and grafting technology. Now, though, he would put his knowledge to a project with more immediate military applications.
"Ah, Professor Umino, you have absolutely no idea of how much of a pleasure it is to see you again!" Fairfield beamed, reflexively extending his hand in expectation of a handshake.
After a quick handshake, Fairfield and Umino sat down and got straight to work on the matter at hand: "So, Maj. Fairfield, I hear you have an.interesting proposition for me. Would you care to elucidate for me what it is that you want me to do?"
"As you know, it has been a longstanding goal of both myself and this prestigious organization to protect humankind from the dangers of eldritch sorcery. If we could.eliminate individuals who have a talent for such a thing from the gene pool, all of humankind would owe you a great deal-and I will give you a great deal of money for your work," Fairfield explained, fingers drumming together in anticipation.
"Are you telling me that you would like me to synthesize a disease which is mild or harmless in normal humans, but is fatal to magic-adept humans, or- failing that-causes severe damage and distress to their reproductive systems?" Umino inquired, his curiosity obviously piqued by Fairfield's offer.
"Yes, that's exactly right, my man! Such a disease would end the threat forever; however, there are the issues of how long the synthesis of the pathogen will take and whether I can spin this to my colleagues in particular and the public in general {do recall that the bloody Nemesians will be invading and that when they are driven back, it will doubtless be up to the UTS to restore something resembling rule of law and a republican form of government}," Fairfield agreed, grinning wildly and struggling to control his heart rate.
"Normally, Major, a deal such as this would be no problem; however, I must inform you that I suspect that several friends and friends of friends of mine are the magic users identified as the Sailor Senshi," Umino stated, clearly disappointed that he could not go through with such a lucrative deal.
"Well, then, I had originally planned to pay you $5 billion for your completed product, but your worries have changed things; in order to be fair to you, I'll have to pay you at least triple that," Fairfield smiled, licking his lips hungrily as he awaited Umino's agreement.
"Well.I guess that's a more-than-fair deal, but you'd better be sure that no one affected by the disease is a friend of mine," Umino warned, though he had to be aware of his utterly inferior position at Fairfield's bargaining table.
"I promise you that I will not regret this, Professor," Fairfield beamed, reaching out for another handshake. And neither will I, Fairfield mumbled as Umino walked out the door and to the surface.
"Vladimir, what do I do if the leader of the Movement should happen to be someone near and dear to me?" he asked nonchalantly, slung out on the couch.
"Did you even need to ask, Commander? You would deal with him the same way you deal with any other enemy of the League," Vladimir laughed, punching his left fist into his right palm.
"But I ain't entirely sure that we ain't done some things that might be reprehensible," McAllister drawled, slouching into the divan.
Just as the discussion between Vladimir and Jim was about to become a circular argument, a tall, red-bearded Englishman in a three-piece suit entered the complex. Jim and Vladimir both knew precisely who that was: Alan Evan Fairfield V, sent to track the Movement and its top agents. Obviously, they were both eager to hear the information Fairfield had been able to glean.
"So, Fairfield, what does this movement call itself?" Vladimir inquired, his right hand stroking his chin.
"The rebels identify their group as the Free Terran Alliance," Fairfield replied, his face unemotional and his posture stiff.
"I see. Where is their major base, to the best of your knowledge?" Vladimir continued, sighing impatiently.
"Their main known base is in the Shinjuku city ward; knowledge of the exact location is impossible, however, due to their system of safehouses and never holding a meeting in the same location twice," Fairfield stated, hoping his lies were fooling Vladimir.
"Very good. And who, pray tell, is their leader?" Vladimir concluded, studying Fairfield carefully for any sign that he was telling a falsehood or withholding information.
"They are led by a Japanese girl by the name of Naru Osaka," Fairfield lied, hesitating for a split second before saying it.
Thank goodness that it's nobody I know, McAllister whispered to
himself, relieved that there would be no moral dilemma to have to sort out.
"Very well, then, Fairfield, you are dismissed," Vladimir ordered,
much to
Fairfield's relief; he still couldn't believe that Vladimir had
swallowed all the lies that he
had cooked up.
"So, Vladimir, do you have a plan?" Jim inquired, noticeably relieved from the pressure of a potential moral dilemma.
"As a matter of fact, I do," Vladimir replied, chortling to himself. "First, we send a team of Eyes of Terra, led by Major Fairfield, to find out any weaknesses the Scouts might have, including ties of family or friendship, favored trinkets, and locations within the city that have sentimental value. Next, we send forces in to ruin the things they love, which will take most of them out of the picture due to psychological stresses and make at least one of them into a homicidal, angry-at-the-world maniac. If the one rogue elephant in the herd does not do enough damage to the Scouts' reputation, I happen to have Senshi look-alikes that will finish the job. There will be chaos in the streets as the Tokyo Police Force-and possibly the JSDF-battle with the Senshi in the streets. With this going on and with the people caught in the crossfire, there will be cries for new, stronger leadership. This is where my connections within the Japanese Socialist Party will come in. We simply handpick a candidate who is willing to run and win on a law-and-order platform and who will be willing to take orders from us and the rest should fall into place," Vladimir explained, obviously quite proud of all the planning he had done. Everything will fall into place, my friend, but not quite as you predict!
"Vladimir, that is brilliant! I'm not quite sure I could've done any better myself," Jim beamed, also pleased with the results of Vladimir's work.
"Now then, we will have to assemble a team, but that should not take more than a week or two," Vladimir assured Jim, with a straight posture and proud demeanor that reflected his certainty.
As Vladimir plotted and planned how he would pave a clear road to Earth for his masters back on Nemesis, Fairfield came up with a plot of his own. I'll play along with what I predict Vladimir wishes to do-namely, to set up Japan as a landing pad for his extraterrestrial masters, Fairfield mused. There's no chance they'll ever connect me to his scheme, though, because of my connections with Col. Rhodes, who I am grooming to lead the Union for Terran Sovereignty, he continued to himself. Once the threat of Nemesis is dealt with, his group will be the seed of a new order-one in which Terrans reign supreme as far as their space fleets shall reach!, he thundered in his mind, chortling maniacally to himself.
Just then, he heard a knock on the door. Fairfield jumped to attention, almost sure this was some superior officer, but relaxed noticeably once he got a clearer look at the person opening the door. In spite of the owl- eyed glasses and cheap three-piece suit that he wore and a hairstyle that probably resulted more from neglect, the man here commanded international respect for his work on genetic diseases and grafting technology. Now, though, he would put his knowledge to a project with more immediate military applications.
"Ah, Professor Umino, you have absolutely no idea of how much of a pleasure it is to see you again!" Fairfield beamed, reflexively extending his hand in expectation of a handshake.
After a quick handshake, Fairfield and Umino sat down and got straight to work on the matter at hand: "So, Maj. Fairfield, I hear you have an.interesting proposition for me. Would you care to elucidate for me what it is that you want me to do?"
"As you know, it has been a longstanding goal of both myself and this prestigious organization to protect humankind from the dangers of eldritch sorcery. If we could.eliminate individuals who have a talent for such a thing from the gene pool, all of humankind would owe you a great deal-and I will give you a great deal of money for your work," Fairfield explained, fingers drumming together in anticipation.
"Are you telling me that you would like me to synthesize a disease which is mild or harmless in normal humans, but is fatal to magic-adept humans, or- failing that-causes severe damage and distress to their reproductive systems?" Umino inquired, his curiosity obviously piqued by Fairfield's offer.
"Yes, that's exactly right, my man! Such a disease would end the threat forever; however, there are the issues of how long the synthesis of the pathogen will take and whether I can spin this to my colleagues in particular and the public in general {do recall that the bloody Nemesians will be invading and that when they are driven back, it will doubtless be up to the UTS to restore something resembling rule of law and a republican form of government}," Fairfield agreed, grinning wildly and struggling to control his heart rate.
"Normally, Major, a deal such as this would be no problem; however, I must inform you that I suspect that several friends and friends of friends of mine are the magic users identified as the Sailor Senshi," Umino stated, clearly disappointed that he could not go through with such a lucrative deal.
"Well, then, I had originally planned to pay you $5 billion for your completed product, but your worries have changed things; in order to be fair to you, I'll have to pay you at least triple that," Fairfield smiled, licking his lips hungrily as he awaited Umino's agreement.
"Well.I guess that's a more-than-fair deal, but you'd better be sure that no one affected by the disease is a friend of mine," Umino warned, though he had to be aware of his utterly inferior position at Fairfield's bargaining table.
"I promise you that I will not regret this, Professor," Fairfield beamed, reaching out for another handshake. And neither will I, Fairfield mumbled as Umino walked out the door and to the surface.
