PrincessColumbia

Alright, I'm back!

This chapter is short, mostly because I've managed to pack everything into the chapter I needed to without bulking out the word count all that much. That said, it's been FAR too long since the FOUNDATIONAL STORY to the entire CoE saga got an update, meanwhile Beta Program, Life Finds a Way to be Wonderful, Let the Dead Bury the Dead, Sympathy for the Messiah, several books in Dragons Daughter, and Recursive Loop all got updates...that I can't release publicly until I actually get to the end of Part 4 here in Code of Ethics! So here we are, moving the needle, even if not by a whole lot.

Also, been sick. I HATE being sick, 'cause even when I'm spending all my time in bed I'm too tired to write and often brain-fogged in the bargain.

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The experience of smoking and its apparent attendant positive effects without any of the usual downsides wasn't on Diane's 'to do' list for the day, but having found herself able to do so, she permitted herself the enjoyment of something that she'd never, in her entire lifetime either before climbing into the pod nor after, ever do…slowly nurse the cigar with the intent of dragging it out as long as possible.

Cecily gave her numerous amused looks as they began pulling the kit they brought with them out and spreading it across the duvet on the four-poster bed in Diane's quarters. As they made their preparations, the smaller woman would make frequent allusions to some variety of oral fixation and Diane would obliquely reference some activity with Caitlynn that neither confirmed nor denied the allegations.

Diane double-checked the portfolio of tools they'd assembled to enable them to perform their duties for this mission that still fit within the requirements of 'low tech' that the colony had for visitors. Tucked into the portfolio was her Mark 34, packed away with the tool kit as it was extremely un-likely an S.A.I. or player would think to dig through her luggage for any reason, though a casual inspection of her person during the check-through process at the space port would be significantly more likely. As she set it out in the array of unpacked items, she found she was oddly disappointed that Cecily didn't register its presence, even though such a blatantly futuristic weapon would absolutely be forbidden on the planet and thus should have been noticed and commented on.

Though why she felt the pang of disenchantment, she couldn't say.

Once they'd taken their inventory and rearranged the portfolio of tools (with her Mark 34 being kept in the packet, she didn't have a holster and the 'magic physics' allowed by the game engine was just weak enough to give her pause about relying on it), they relaxed in the chairs by the unlit fireplace until the butler came to their suite to retrieve them.

Diane was of two minds about the sitting lounge.

On the one hand, it had a footprint nearly as large as the duke's office (or, at least, one of his offices, she had no doubt that, like her with her station, he had several in this mansion alone, let alone the many he likely had tucked away around his duchy) and had furniture almost arguably more comfortable than the furniture in her private hab. The couch alone was soft and luxurious enough that she thought she could lounge in it for weeks with only the occasional bathroom break.

On the other hand, it was just so much wasted space. Her own awareness of exactly how much square footage was required for a single sentient being meant that she was mentally calculating that this one room alone could be converted into habs for five families. Different settings, different requirements, different standards, she mused as she discarded the last of the cigar she'd been puffing on in the roaring fire.

As she settled herself into a nearby chair, the duke sipped his tea, "My daughter should be along shortly, it does take her a bit longer to prepare to greet guests. I'd wager you'd know more about how much preparation it takes for a woman to get ready than I would."

Diane smirked, enjoying the joke about her actual gender versus what she was pretending to be in the game even if she was the only one in on it, "I do, though I'm more what we'd have called on Earth a 'tomboy'," he raised a curious eyebrow around a mouthful of biscuit and she continued, "I was raised there after the Galaxy War. Culturally I'm more Terran than Morvuck."

Duke Morninglory washed down the bite of confection with another swallow of tea, "Ah, we had heard about that, of course. Miserable business, as war tends to be no matter when or where it's waged. Our president at the time took great pleasure in disappointing the envoy from Earth when they came calling, attempting to enlist the support of all the old colonies in the war effort. We simply don't maintain enough of a tech base to do anything for a galactic war effort."

"President?" asked Diane as she reached for the tray of desert biscuits.

Cecily daintily sipped at her tea and answered for the duke, "Don't be caught off by the title, it's more like a king or emperor. Loaran's ruling counsel is lead by a president-for-life. The title is usually passed down through family lines, but the colonial charter delineates a variety of circumstances where the president can be replaced."

The duke chuckled darkly, "Just as well that our founding fathers knew well enough from examples from Earth history to not give the leader of the nation-state a title like 'king' or 'emperor,' the presidents tend to get a bit too lofty in their aspirations as it is."

Diane was spared having to reply (though she did agree) by the arrival of a young woman whose portrait she'd seen during the briefing on the station. Appearing to be about average for the noble class, she wore a dress that was mostly gray with highlights in the same blue as her father's waistcoat. Given the prevalence of the same shade and hue of blue on banners and articles throughout the castle, Diane was guessing this was the house color. While the woman's skin tone was obviously the same caucasian as her father's, there was a sun-kissed quality and musculature detectable even under the dress fabric that indicated that she was not the type of noble's daughter to constrain herself to tea parties and salons. (Diane would wager there was a horse in the estate's stables that this woman treated better than the duchess herself was.) Her dark hair was done in a complicated-looking braid that fell to the woman's tailbone region. She was adorned with a surprisingly small amount of jewelry, though if she was as active as Diane suspected, more jewelry than the necklace, rings, and earrings she was currently sporting would have been obstructive.

Diane and Cecily rose to greet the woman they were on the planet to protect and Morninglory stood to make introductions, "Commander, this is my daughter, Welrostre. Sweetheart, this is Commander Diane Somni'els and Agent Cecily, sister of Benjamin."

Welrostre extended her hand while very clearly trying to keep her eyes from practically bugging out at the sight of the offworlders.

Diane gently took the offered hand and brought the knuckles to her lips, bending at the waist to add a gentlemanly bow to the greeting. As she straightened, she was amused to note the flush of red in the smaller woman's face.

Cecily took the moment of distraction to repeat Diane's motion with a curtsey, prompting the duchess' flush to go to a full on, deep scarlet blush.

"G-goodness!" murmured the woman who would be their charge shortly, "I had no idea women from the black were so forward!"

Diane couldn't help the chuckle that rose from inside her, "You'll find we're the exceptions to quite a few rules."

The duke joined in the laughter, though there was a slight undercurrent of strain to it. Diane decided it was likely from parental concern that someone was applying their lips to his daughter in any capacity, regardless of context or intent. He cleared his throat, "Daughter, these...gentlewomen will be your guardians and escort while we're at the conference. You're all packed, I presume?"

Welrostre blinked a few times, apparently to clear her thoughts as she cast around for a seat. She settled on a nearby couch and very primly lowered herself in. To Diane's amusement, Cecily sat (not nearly so primly) right next to the duchess. The young princess did her best to not broadcast her side-eye as she replied to her father, "Yes, my staff has comported themselves well."

The duke snorted and gave his daughter a fond smile, "By which you mean you told them you'd handle it and then did so because you didn't want them to feel put out?"

Welrostre blushed bright red and completely failed to meet her father's eyes as her only response was to bite her lip in apparent embarrassment.

Duke Morninglory chuckled, "I do pay them for their services, my dear. I promise they're not being unduly taxed in their duties."

"Yes, father," was the chastised reply.

Morninglory turned back to Diane, "Have you any children, commander?" he asked casually as he resumed his own seat.

Diane felt her heart clench as she joined the others in her own chair. If the game were real, if she were actually a station commander with no ties to the American Republic, she'd probably be talking about how many kids she wanted with Caitlynn as a flirtatious way of bringing up a possible future long-term relationship and discussing future logistics. As an agent of the AR? Not a chance in hell. The world was barely recovering from the war and The Singularity was calling into question whether humanity even had a future, let alone one she'd willingly drop a kid into the middle of, "No, though there's a girl I'm helping foster on the station. Her parents are exploring on the rim and her aunt is one of my best friends. She's...a handful, but she's one of the bright lights of the resident population." Cecily's face showed inquisitive incomprehension, so Diane clarified, "Sani, Leki's niece."

The smaller woman scratched her head, "The Morvuck kid? The one that practically worshiped the ground you walk on?"

The duke chuckled again, "Ah, that does sound familiar. When she was younger, Welrostre was practically my shadow. I had to have a little desk installed in my office that was sized to her so she could imitate me. Of course, she was filling in coloring pages…"

"Father, I'm right here!" groaned the young duchess.

This prompted Diane and Cecily to join Morninglory's laughter, the Genemod gently nudging the subject of the laughter with a shoulder, clearly trying to set the duke's daughter at ease.

"So," said Diane in a clear bid to change the subject, "Shall we discuss logistics? Do we know the facility we'll be staying at during this conference?" She gave Welrostre a wink to show the girl she'd brought the subject up to take the duke's affectionate attention off his daughter. The young woman smiled shyly and her shoulders relaxed, broadcasting her gratitude as the duke began explaining what he knew of the facility the conference was being held at.

The castle they would be attending was, ironically, closer to the space port than the Duke's holdings, just in the opposite direction on the map. It would take the better part of the next day to make the trip via carriage and Diane's role (and by extension Cecily's) would begin as soon as they departed in the morning. This meant Diane would be riding in cabin of Welrostre's carriage.

"I suggest, however, that we have Cece riding with the driver. She's a competent fighter but an even better watch-woman. She'll likely spot any trouble before anyone else can see it."

The duke looked the Genemod up and down, "Are you equipped such that it would be...appropriate for you to ride with the staff?"

Cecily gave their employer a dangerous grin, "I can single-handedly take down your entire guard with no advance warning and no weapons. My family was created to fight Crotuk hand-to-hand on the battlefield. If the staff get handsy...they won't have hands after."

Travel arrangements settled, they then discussed the building itself. It was one of the president's 'smaller' estates, though given the square footage it took up of the city interior was nearly as big as the White House lawn, it was hardly what might be called 'homey.' The attending nobles would be split between genders, which was why the duke was in need of Diane's help; he couldn't keep his daughter under the umbrella of his own security, which was entirely staffed with men. While Welrostre had a fine selection of staff of her own and was expecting to meet up with her own lady-in-waiting sometime after arriving none of those women were trained specifically in the art of combat.

Welrostre herself was mostly quiet, though Diane could tell she was paying close attention to everything discussed. The way the girl's sharp eyes flitted between the conversation's participants, Diane wouldn't be surprised if the girl had formulated an entire set of contingencies that worked around what they hammered out.

Once the discussion concluded, they adjourned for their separate rooms in order to rest and relax before dinner. Upon returning to their adjoined suite, Diane and Cecily scanned the room for any listening devices (sure, they were prohibited from bringing them and technically the citizens of the planet were, too...that didn't mean everyone actually followed the law, however, so they couldn't be too careful) before returning to the fireplace in Diane's suite.

"Did you smell it?" opened Diane.

"On Welrostre?" asked Cecily before answering, "Yes. Something...not organic."

Diane nodded, "And not like she's working on a machine and some metal or oil transfer is happening. It's like it's...under her human smell, somehow."

Cecily nodded, "And the duke hasn't said anything, nor did the princess let any attention stay on her for long. They know that there's something going on there but are keeping it secret."

"What do you suppose it is? I know speculation isn't necessarily productive, but whatever they're hiding could affect the mission."

The smaller woman nodded, "The passive scans on your ship when we were coming in didn't ping any power source that might indicate a hidden android or other synthetic life form, just human life signs and the trace elements in the air from steam powered mechanisms scattered across the colony."

"It couldn't be some form of hidden weapon, could it?" offered Diane.

Cecily shook her head, "Anything chemical would be surface level, and anything energy-based would need a much bigger power source that would show up even on passive scanners."

They passed a few more theories back and forth, but couldn't come up with anything conclusive by the time the staff collected them for dinner.

PrincessColumbia

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