Hum... Inspiration is tricky. I do tend to what you've said M Fnord, it makes for more fun. But... Yeah, I get the feeling there is a need for a bit more in the Inspired. If I could articulate it I would. Maybe it'll come along in story.
Speaking of, this has some of my speculation of Mobius' structure. I've kept it loose, much looser than Infinity (who I've taken some hints from), but how well?
Oh, remember that Colin has served his 20 in the more military bits of Mobius, so it's roughly 2027 at this point. I'll rejig counts in my notes.
The Tower. Pretty much the only way anyone who’d been part of the multi-world NGO that was the Mobius Group would refer to its headquarters in Chicago. Being the massive political animal a crosstime NGO was, actually getting there usually meant getting to O’Hare, grabbing a taxi, and letting security check you out. Always book in advance, wait 28 days for delivery. That’s what comes with being backed by the UN.
Colin bypassed all of that. The unassuming travel token he’d been sent allowed him to park his Q-Type Jag in the local transfer port’s VIP zone, walk through security without even the slight check delay most normal people had (even with the scanners), walk past the lines (slight but existent even at that time in the morning), get priority transfer to Whiteout base and a second hop direct to the Tower’s transfer port (pretty much only the bigwigs got to do this), walk through reception and Tower security to an elevator that opened at his approach, and get on a priority non-stop to the board level on the 143rd floor.
All of which explained why Colin popped a handful of pills into his mouth and flushed them down with bottled water as the lift slowed down. An attempted cat-nap in the Jag (auto-drive was such a waste) hadn’t helped. New York called itself the City that never Sleeps; it had nothing on the Tower. So he’d had to resort to pills for the first time in years to keep awake and sharp.
He strode out of the opening doors, down the hall to the board room when his omnitool beeped a notice to his left eye and surprisingly redirected him to the Ops director’s office.
“Go straight in.” The robo-secretary said, unlocking the inner office door.
“You asked to see me?” Colin introduced himself, being as polite as possible while the pills kicked in but still telling the people inside what he thought of their actions.
“Sit down Captain.” Major General Alexi Demitriov, CICTRANSEC, replied.
Colin shut the door, letting the privacy seal re-engage, and sat at the last empty chair in front to the director’s desk.
“Ambassador, Director.” Colin nodded in greeting, already getting a feel for what hell he was about to be thrown into.
“Interesting report you filed.” Ambassador Cheng Jun, TOA Foreign Secretary, noted. “It seems the Bureau is expanding into areas we hadn’t expected.”
“I’m more interested in the offer you so casually made.” Mobius Group Director of Operations Mark Sommerfield remarked.
“I did say ‘might’ Sir.” Colin replied. “I was thinking how it could be good manners to hand over some properly sanitised reports when the follow-up team goes through, what with all the Guildies in their bad books, and given at the time I was retired and they apparently knew me it’ll allow the team to keep watch and blow my head off if need be.”
The Director and Ambassador blinked while the General snorted.
“Rather direct of you Captain.” He observed.
“I was about to go to sleep after just getting back when I was yanked back in. I’m running on pills so may be a tad blunt Sir.” Colin shrugged. “I very much doubt this is a Postman Op you’ve yanked me back in for, and I’d have explained things to Grendel in Contact when I woke up. So I’m guessing Escort.” He looked to the Ambassador. “We trying to get on their good side?”
“That is far more astute than your file suggests Captain.” Cheng told him. “Yes, we are trying to open formal contact with the Time-Space Administration Bureau. Primarily, we’ve found a good place to try the Babylon Project.”
“Hence your reactivation.” Demitriov added. “Colonel Yagami is apparently a high riser and well connected, so having you perform formal introductions will help.”
“And I make a good sacrificial lamb if anything goes wrong.” Colin noted.
“Unlikely.” Cheng told him.
“Still all the problems with the Guildies.” Colin pointed out.
“Hence us taking things slowly.” Sommerfield said, leaning forward. “You will be our point man on this. Build a rapport, get them engaged. Then get them to the table. With their backing, we’ll be able to get Infinity and Centrum involved.”
“And hopefully, Babylon will keep things for deteriorating between us all.” Demitriov added. “Lord knows we don’t have enough problems already.”
“So, who else is on the team? Logistics, backup?” Colin asked.
“You and the General can discuss things.” The director said with finality. “Dismissed gentlemen.”
***
“Well, that was fun Sir.” Colin grumbled as the two men walked to the lift. “Couldn’t they have just asked tomorrow?”
“Nature of the beast Captain.” CICTRANSEC said. “Babylon’s been on the cards for years, you’ve just given us the first decent chance we’ve had to get it off the ground. The Board and Oversight grabbed it.”
“And then we all get together to kick someone in the nuts.” Colin pointed out. “Group like that needs a big outside threat, and even combined the Snakes and Nazis wouldn’t be enough. A Power getting interested?”
“We don’t know, but intel has shown a worrying trend of archaeological digs of the Alpha civilisations being hit. You’ve proven to have an uncanny knack for running into a specific one of those.”
With a ding, the lift opened.
“Well, that WAS one of the reasons I was there in the first place. The planet only had a mining site on the other side of the continent, so a) why’d the Nazis show up, and b) how did the second group show up that quickly?” Colin mused. “The Beebees were tracking the second group…they had a ship, the second group I mean. I’ll have to ask what’s their angle.”
“Good to see all those reports weren’t exaggerating.” General Demitriov commented.
“Never really liked being guide dog to some Grey op. I’m a Scout tech analyst, not a Ghost Sir.” Colin shrugged. “And if Greg Womack had any say in those reports, he exaggerates. A lot.”
“So you didn’t kick a soccer ball filled with hydrogen into a dragon’s mouth?” The General asked, causing Colin to groan.
“No.” He growled. “As I put in MY report, I got a local to kick a football filled with methane into the mouth of a theme park’s animatronic dragon as someone had put in a dart gun as a murder weapon, hidden by the pyrotechnic flame thrower.”
“Ah.” The General nodded as the lift slowed down. “Well, head off to the Marriot down the street and get some rest. Be back for 15:30 so we can go over the mission specs.”
“Sir, that’s the best thing anyone’s said to me all week.”
***
Seven hours of sleep had made Colin feel more human, as had the shower, shaver, and light brunch. The sonic cleaner in the first class room (showing that Mobius cared for its employees) had sorted out his clothes, and his omnitool had pulled down all the latest journals and periodicals so he could start getting up to speed again. All he had to do was get through the mission brief and not kill anyone.
At 15:40, having been ceremoniously shoved out of the General’s office, he consoled himself that he wouldn’t be killing anyone. No, that would be far too kind.
Seriously, just him and one other for the team? No real backup? Oh, events outpacing things was such a load of bull. All he needed was the whitened reports and a backup for the meet, say hi, set up a second meet, and come back. That’d give the company and UN enough time to arrange a proper diplomatic team, which he’d introduce at the second meet. Nice and simple.
But politics had reared its head, and it looked like an end run was being made. Typical.
Time to stock up on headache pills and lock up the house again.
Speaking of, this has some of my speculation of Mobius' structure. I've kept it loose, much looser than Infinity (who I've taken some hints from), but how well?
Oh, remember that Colin has served his 20 in the more military bits of Mobius, so it's roughly 2027 at this point. I'll rejig counts in my notes.
The Tower. Pretty much the only way anyone who’d been part of the multi-world NGO that was the Mobius Group would refer to its headquarters in Chicago. Being the massive political animal a crosstime NGO was, actually getting there usually meant getting to O’Hare, grabbing a taxi, and letting security check you out. Always book in advance, wait 28 days for delivery. That’s what comes with being backed by the UN.
Colin bypassed all of that. The unassuming travel token he’d been sent allowed him to park his Q-Type Jag in the local transfer port’s VIP zone, walk through security without even the slight check delay most normal people had (even with the scanners), walk past the lines (slight but existent even at that time in the morning), get priority transfer to Whiteout base and a second hop direct to the Tower’s transfer port (pretty much only the bigwigs got to do this), walk through reception and Tower security to an elevator that opened at his approach, and get on a priority non-stop to the board level on the 143rd floor.
All of which explained why Colin popped a handful of pills into his mouth and flushed them down with bottled water as the lift slowed down. An attempted cat-nap in the Jag (auto-drive was such a waste) hadn’t helped. New York called itself the City that never Sleeps; it had nothing on the Tower. So he’d had to resort to pills for the first time in years to keep awake and sharp.
He strode out of the opening doors, down the hall to the board room when his omnitool beeped a notice to his left eye and surprisingly redirected him to the Ops director’s office.
“Go straight in.” The robo-secretary said, unlocking the inner office door.
“You asked to see me?” Colin introduced himself, being as polite as possible while the pills kicked in but still telling the people inside what he thought of their actions.
“Sit down Captain.” Major General Alexi Demitriov, CICTRANSEC, replied.
Colin shut the door, letting the privacy seal re-engage, and sat at the last empty chair in front to the director’s desk.
“Ambassador, Director.” Colin nodded in greeting, already getting a feel for what hell he was about to be thrown into.
“Interesting report you filed.” Ambassador Cheng Jun, TOA Foreign Secretary, noted. “It seems the Bureau is expanding into areas we hadn’t expected.”
“I’m more interested in the offer you so casually made.” Mobius Group Director of Operations Mark Sommerfield remarked.
“I did say ‘might’ Sir.” Colin replied. “I was thinking how it could be good manners to hand over some properly sanitised reports when the follow-up team goes through, what with all the Guildies in their bad books, and given at the time I was retired and they apparently knew me it’ll allow the team to keep watch and blow my head off if need be.”
The Director and Ambassador blinked while the General snorted.
“Rather direct of you Captain.” He observed.
“I was about to go to sleep after just getting back when I was yanked back in. I’m running on pills so may be a tad blunt Sir.” Colin shrugged. “I very much doubt this is a Postman Op you’ve yanked me back in for, and I’d have explained things to Grendel in Contact when I woke up. So I’m guessing Escort.” He looked to the Ambassador. “We trying to get on their good side?”
“That is far more astute than your file suggests Captain.” Cheng told him. “Yes, we are trying to open formal contact with the Time-Space Administration Bureau. Primarily, we’ve found a good place to try the Babylon Project.”
“Hence your reactivation.” Demitriov added. “Colonel Yagami is apparently a high riser and well connected, so having you perform formal introductions will help.”
“And I make a good sacrificial lamb if anything goes wrong.” Colin noted.
“Unlikely.” Cheng told him.
“Still all the problems with the Guildies.” Colin pointed out.
“Hence us taking things slowly.” Sommerfield said, leaning forward. “You will be our point man on this. Build a rapport, get them engaged. Then get them to the table. With their backing, we’ll be able to get Infinity and Centrum involved.”
“And hopefully, Babylon will keep things for deteriorating between us all.” Demitriov added. “Lord knows we don’t have enough problems already.”
“So, who else is on the team? Logistics, backup?” Colin asked.
“You and the General can discuss things.” The director said with finality. “Dismissed gentlemen.”
***
“Well, that was fun Sir.” Colin grumbled as the two men walked to the lift. “Couldn’t they have just asked tomorrow?”
“Nature of the beast Captain.” CICTRANSEC said. “Babylon’s been on the cards for years, you’ve just given us the first decent chance we’ve had to get it off the ground. The Board and Oversight grabbed it.”
“And then we all get together to kick someone in the nuts.” Colin pointed out. “Group like that needs a big outside threat, and even combined the Snakes and Nazis wouldn’t be enough. A Power getting interested?”
“We don’t know, but intel has shown a worrying trend of archaeological digs of the Alpha civilisations being hit. You’ve proven to have an uncanny knack for running into a specific one of those.”
With a ding, the lift opened.
“Well, that WAS one of the reasons I was there in the first place. The planet only had a mining site on the other side of the continent, so a) why’d the Nazis show up, and b) how did the second group show up that quickly?” Colin mused. “The Beebees were tracking the second group…they had a ship, the second group I mean. I’ll have to ask what’s their angle.”
“Good to see all those reports weren’t exaggerating.” General Demitriov commented.
“Never really liked being guide dog to some Grey op. I’m a Scout tech analyst, not a Ghost Sir.” Colin shrugged. “And if Greg Womack had any say in those reports, he exaggerates. A lot.”
“So you didn’t kick a soccer ball filled with hydrogen into a dragon’s mouth?” The General asked, causing Colin to groan.
“No.” He growled. “As I put in MY report, I got a local to kick a football filled with methane into the mouth of a theme park’s animatronic dragon as someone had put in a dart gun as a murder weapon, hidden by the pyrotechnic flame thrower.”
“Ah.” The General nodded as the lift slowed down. “Well, head off to the Marriot down the street and get some rest. Be back for 15:30 so we can go over the mission specs.”
“Sir, that’s the best thing anyone’s said to me all week.”
***
Seven hours of sleep had made Colin feel more human, as had the shower, shaver, and light brunch. The sonic cleaner in the first class room (showing that Mobius cared for its employees) had sorted out his clothes, and his omnitool had pulled down all the latest journals and periodicals so he could start getting up to speed again. All he had to do was get through the mission brief and not kill anyone.
At 15:40, having been ceremoniously shoved out of the General’s office, he consoled himself that he wouldn’t be killing anyone. No, that would be far too kind.
Seriously, just him and one other for the team? No real backup? Oh, events outpacing things was such a load of bull. All he needed was the whitened reports and a backup for the meet, say hi, set up a second meet, and come back. That’d give the company and UN enough time to arrange a proper diplomatic team, which he’d introduce at the second meet. Nice and simple.
But politics had reared its head, and it looked like an end run was being made. Typical.
Time to stock up on headache pills and lock up the house again.