"Conquest Earth": Humanity's Last, Best Hope

[JustAnotherHornyGirl]

"Conquest Earth"

Humanity's Last, Best Hope

OOC Link --- Seeking link

13 July 2032, 0717 UTC:

One moment, the space station wasn't there.

The next moment, it was.

Of course, very few people on Earth actually witnessed the sudden appearance of the craft, despite its size. At 600 meters in length and almost 300 meter in diameter, it was almost 6 times the length and more than 4 times the width of the International Space Station. Before the ISS's recent abandonment, it could have been seen at one time or another by most of the Earth's population as it passed overhead in the night sky.

This space station's position, however, was geosynchronous over the Atlantic Ocean, roughly halfway between New York State and the country of Morocco. This meant that the station couldn't be seen from the continents of North America, Europe, or Africa. It could, however, be viewed through high powered binoculars and telescopes from the Azores archipelago, which was 600 miles to its east.

Over the days to come and before restrictions on travel were put in place, hundreds of flights and boats hurried for the autonomously governed possession of Portugal. The Azores was already a tourist destination, of course, but the station's appearance would have an effect unlike anything ever seen before.

Periodic total solar eclipse events had often resulted in thousands, even tens of thousands of people flying to the archipelago for a possibly once-in-a-lifetime experience. But this was something else. The normal residential population of just over 250,000 would swell in less than 48 hours to more than 2 million in less than 48 hours before the government declared an emergency and closed its airport and seaports to all but emergency, governmental, military, and residential travel.

As the news and the first images of the station (from the ground, water, air, and space) were broadcasted around the world, the reactions of people, militaries, and governments were widely varied. Generally speaking, though, they fell into two categories: extreme excitement and extreme panic.

Military and scientific aircraft began filling the air while dozens, possibly hundreds of military and civilian satellites were retasked to look at the visitor. Civilian aircraft were restricted from the area after a near collision, followed by one such tourist flight suffering a mysterious electrical loss and nearly falling into the sea.

The news of the "alien" craft and the effect it was having on Earth's people were the only news anyone was producing, watching, or listening to. It filled the airwaves and internet with speculation about the station, its occupants, and their reasons for visiting Earth from its presumed origin far off in the galaxy.

All the while that the people of Earth were wondering about the station, the craft was transmitting an audio message of peace and goodwill. It was broadcasted in a constant loop in over 7,000 languages. It was a reassuring message to the people of Earth that they had no reason to be concerned: the station's occupants were peaceful and meant no harm to the people below.

(In an amazing show of the aliens' advanced technology, many devices on which the individuals of Earth were listening fixed upon the devices' chosen languages, such that the listener was always able to listen to the message in his or her first language.)

Reassuring as the message was meant to be, the one missing piece of the alien question for many people was simple: what do the aliens look like? Many felt that not knowing this only heightened the possibility that the aliens were not as friendly and benevolent as others hoped.

Finally, after just less than 20 hours, the aliens finally made themselves known. And, it turned out, they weren't alien at all: they were Human.

At a time that had been indicated in the long repeating message, a beautiful young woman appeared on screens across the globe: televisions and computers, small smart phones and gigantic public screens. The message was prerecorded, with the multi-lingual woman using the most commonly spoken language in each of the areas where her image was being broadcasted. It would be learned later that she herself made her greeting in 28 languages.

(Of course, as with the message of the past 20 hours, individual devices such as smart phones, tablets, laptops, and even home smart televisions played the message in the viewers' own languages if it was different than that of the majority of the population living around them.)

"Greetings," the woman began, a friendly smile on her face. She made apologies for having waited nearly a day to greet the people of Earth. Her smile widened as she continued, "We have been monitoring your news reports, and I wish to answer a question many of you have been asking: what do the aliens look like."

She looked and gestured over her shoulders to her left and right, and nearly three dozen people moved into view to fill the space behind her in an arc. Most wore uniforms as might be expected of a station or space ship's crew, while others wore a more civilian-like wardrobe. The woman in red was the most elegantly gowned of them all, though, each and every one her company was neatly and cleanly dressed.

"In case our appearance doesn't answer your question," she continued, "we are, in fact, Human Beings, from Earth. Only, we are not of your century, the 21st century. This will be hard for many of you to understand and accept, but we and our station come from the 26th century."

She paused a moment, glancing again left and right. The others slowly left the screen as the camera centered on the woman zoomed in a bit more. She explained, "In our time, Earth ... I hate to be so blunt with this horrible news ... but in my time, Earth has been devastated by environmental destruction and wars that were, in great part, resultant of the need for dwindling resources. In our time, the population of Earth is less than 2 billion. The average life span in most of the world is 40 years of age, with many of those years spent in so much pain and agony that many people take their own lives to end their despair. The natural world has suffered as well. Deforestation, global warming, pollution of the air, land, and sea, and -- following a series of nuclear strikes -- the irradiation of that air, land, and sea have left most of the planet uninhabitable."

Her smile had long faded, as one would expect from someone delivering such a message. But now, the edges of her lips lifted again slightly as she said, "But we -- you and I -- can prevent this, and that is why I am here. In my time, Earth -- or what remains of it -- has been unified under one government in an effort to streamline efforts to save it from a final, unavoidable disaster. My great-great-great-grandfather was the first to lead this government. He passed control down through the generations, until finally the crown rests with me, as Head of State ... as Queen of All The Earth."

She hesitated a moment, knowing that across most of the planet below her, people were repeating those words in their head with dismay, disbelief, or outright rejection. She continued, "As Queen of All The Earth, I will be contacting your governmental, military, non-governmental organization, business, environmental, medical, and educational leaders in the days and weeks to come in an effort to learn what they need from me to solve the problems they face and what assistance we can give them.

"I will also be speaking to some of those leaders, in particular governmental and military leaders," she continued with a more serious expression, "regarding how to transition governance of their nations and states to my authority. This will be hard for many leaders and their populations to accept. I understand this. But I have learned from the troubles and events in my own time, that the only way to prevent the disasters of your future, my past, if for a single authority -- me -- to be making the decisions necessary to save Planet Earth from destruction."

She stepped a bit closer to the camera for emphasis, continuing, "I thank you for your attention, and I promise you that your lives will improve very quickly if only you and your leaders abide by the requests I will be making of them and you in the near future."

With one final smile, as if she wasn't asking anything more than a small favor, she ended, "Until we speak again, I wish you peace, prosperity, and good health."

And then on screens across the globe, the message began repeating from the beginning as its preceding message had.


* I chose the year 2032 because it is identical to 2021 in that it is a leap year with the same dates of the year on the same days of the week.

OOC: Not my art. I found it on the internet without proper credits.

 

[JustAnotherHornyGirl]

Washington D.C.
Tuesday, 13 July 2032, 2:24am

Helen Richardson had finally managed to get to bed at a reasonable time this night, probably the first time she'd done so during her nearly 6 months as President of the United States. She'd been running on fumes, as many of her predecessors had, trying to do her job dealing with domestic and international events and situations while also tending to the needs of her family, something that had radically changed not only with her election to the top post in the land but with the auto accident deaths of her husband and youngest daughter just two weeks before her inauguration.

And of course, this would be the night that an alien species would arrive in orbit of the planet on which, by tradition, POTUS was supposed to be the most powerful person and, thus, the one for whom the whole world would be looking for a reaction.

She was awoken by a polite knock on the door, and less than 10 minutes after the space station's arrival, knew everything that anyone else on the planet knew about it. Over the next hour, she was presented with photos from 12 different sources, some of which were legitimate government/military sources and others of which long ago had been or were in the last few hours hacked by the NSA or CIA.

She was told upon waking that the heads of the various branches of the military and intelligence services were being alerted to a possible POTUS directive, once she'd decided what that instruction was to be. Helen did just what they'd expected, of course: she put them all on alert, ordered surveillance, ordered timely updates, had planes, ships, and satellites directed to the situation, and more.

Remembering how other such recent situations had led to financial crashes, Helen also ordered the markets closed across the country, ordered all prices and wages frozen, closed the ports to both imports and exports, and suggested to the State and District Governors that perhaps they should activate their National Guard units, just in case.

The day was non stop reports to her and orders from her. Her 12 years of service as a US Marine and subsequent 12 years as a US Senator from Washington State helped her cope with what was quickly becoming the most incredible event in the history of the World.

Then came the message from the space station, and the incredible story that this incredible beautiful and obviously young woman (who noticeably never spoke her name) was not only from the future but expected the people and nations of Earth to bow before her as their Queen. Really? Like many Americans, Helen had grown up with a romantic view of the Royals of England: Queen Elizabeth, Princess Di, and King Charles, all of whom were now deceased, as well as the current King, William.

But a Queen of All The Earth, with that All The Earth including the United States of America? That was going to be a problem. The people of the US wouldn't accept it, first off. And the powerful business interests that sometimes thought they should be treated as royalty wouldn't accept it either.

Just seconds after the greeting from the Queen ended, an Aide in the Situation Room called out excitedly, "Madam President!"

He ripped from a printer the hard copy of a message that had come in simultaneously on a number of the room's machines and hurried it to her. "It's from her. From the ... you know ... the Queen."

Helen read it to herself before handing it to her Chief of Staff. She looked about the room to military and civilian leaders and paraphrased, "It's an invitation ... to meet the Queen to discuss the United State's entry and position of importance within her Realm."

Her Chief of Staff, who was continuing to read, added, "She's demanding that we recall all of our military forces. And our Ambassadors and their Embassy Staffs. All of them. I quote, 'Every man, woman, and child with a United States of America passport, including all employees assigned to overseas operations and students in foreign universities."

He looked up with a shocked expression. "Every American. She's saying they all have to come home. She's given us 10 days."

Another Aide approached the Chief of Staff, handing him a second message. He read briefly and clarified, "It's not just us. She's demanding it of every country."

 

[KyleReevis]

From his 68th floor condominium in the Wilshire Grand Tower, Peter Jacobson looked out over Los Angeles as the sun slipped once again into the Pacific Ocean. Watching the sunset from his condominium had become his moment of peace and tranquility, something sorely needed after 3 decades of working 16 hour plus days in the tech industry.

Peter and the team working under him had made several breakthroughs in computer and internet technologies, the result of which was that Forbes had last year listed Peter at the 7th richest man in the United States, a jump from 14th the year before because of the recent sale of his latest social media company. That wealth had made the apartment's $3.8 million dollar purchase price and its $24,000 annual maintenance and security fee feasible, as well as allowing Peter to watch these incredible nightly sunsets each night.

Of course, tonight wasn't any usual night. Tonight, some 5,000 miles to the east, a massive spacecraft, presumably occupied by human beings from the future, was hovering over the Atlantic Ocean. Inside it was an incredibly beautiful, young woman who claimed to be the future Queen of the world. And that woman was expecting this era's human beings to submit to being her subjects so that she could save them and their planet from utter destruction.

Her planet, he reminded himself. Her planet.

Peter knew a bit more about the situation than the average American did, because he had friends inside the Federal Government and, specifically, inside the White House. Within an hour of President Richardson getting the Queen's messages regarding her expectations of POTUS, the US, and essentially the whole of the world, Peter's girl inside the Big House had texted him with the basics.

He didn't know whether to be surprised or not. He'd never really spent time watching alien arrival movies, but he'd heard enough about them to know that the arrivals were almost always invaders. Peter would have been very surprised to find out that the Queen had flown her spaceship across the galaxy to Earth simply for a weekend of sunning that shapely body on the beaches of Mexico and a taking in a day of snowskiing in Vale.

Of course, she hadn't crossed the cosmos and she wasn't alien, if all that had been said in her message to the world was real and accurate. Human beings from the future he mused again. The Queen of All The Earth. Amazing.

With the sun now fully down and the red sky slowly turning black, Peter looked upwards to spy the few stars with the oomph to break through the light pollution of Los Angeles. He reflected on the other world billionaires whose obsessions had been space and reaching it. Musk, Branson, and Bezos each had their own space ship projects, and each had by now gone up on their own ships and considered themselves astronauts.

Peter had never had an interest in such things. While others were spending their fortunes on reaching what they called space -- many critics simply called it high altitude -- Peter Jacobson had been following in Bill Gates's footsteps and spending his money on making the lives of people here on Earth a bit more comfortable.

Peter had established more than 200 companies, foundations, non-profits, and other such organizations that dealt with homelessness, drug addiction, medical care coverage, worthwhile employment, training and education, and -- his most urgent cause of all -- rehabilitation of the environment that the 8 billion people on this Earth were causing. He had more than 30,000 people in his direct employ across the planet who were planting trees, cleaning beaches, manufacturing new products from waste products -- particularly plastics -- and other such environmentally conscious and friendly projects.

No matter where these people lived and worked, whether in the North America, South America, Africa, or Asia, they were all compensated above and beyond the standards of their respective communities. They could afford a home, an education for their children, food and clean water -- often provided by yet another of Peter's nearby companies -- and health care, as well as other needs.

Peter was very proud of the good he was doing out there in the world. He'd made his fortune and lived a good life selling goods and services to the people of the world, and for the last decade, he'd been returning that wealth to them in so many different ways.

His greatest fear now, of course, was that all he'd done in his life was to be for naught. All the technologies in which he'd played a part in developing and distributing across the globe were likely now dinosaurs in comparison to whatever was on that space station hovering over the Atlantic. Surely, the science and tech behind such a 26th century machine was far superior to anything from the 21st.

And once the inevitable wars began between the Queen's forces and Earth's forces, all the good he'd done would be lost, too. And Peter had no doubt that war was coming. The leaders of Earth weren't simply going to roll over and play dead, handing over power of their nations and fortunes to a girl who claimed she was the reigning monarch of the world, in the future and now.

As he mused over what was ahead, Peter began to realize that an object in the distance that he presumed was a drone -- police, news, or private -- was growing larger in apparent size; it was passing over the downtown area, directly at him. He backed up a few small steps until he was again inside the apartment, speaking to the AI, "Maggie, close the balcony doors, please."

"Yes, Peter," a pretty female voice with only the slightest digital touch said. The sliding glass doors slid shut before him.

One drawback to being one of the richest men in the country or even the world was that there was always some shithead out there who wanted to take your picture or speak to you about a deal or even try to kill you. Ironically, all three of this had happened Peter with a drone being part of the action.

As he watched from behind the explosive-resistant glass, the drone approached at high speed, slowed suddenly, and hovered just over the balcony's rail. It was 8 feet in diameter with 16 propellers and not like anything he'd ever seen before.

"There is nothing to fear, Mister Jacobson," a female voice called out with enough volume for Peter to hear even on this side of the transparent barrier. The voice sounded familiar, but he didn't immediately recognize it until it continued, "The drone is going to deposit a device on your balcony and then depart."

It's the Queen, Peter suddenly realized, recognizing the voice from the message he'd watched over and over throughout the day. Jesus holy fuck, what's she doing?

The drone edges ever so slowly and carefully until its nearest spinning blades were just a foot from the balcony door. Then, from its bottom -- like one of those Amazon delivery drones that you could see in the sky everywhere you looked these days -- it lowered what the Queen had called a device to the deck. Then, the drone backed off and flew away.

The device was about three feet in diameter and about 8 inches tall. It had a smooth, glassy top and a flat black painted edging. It reminded Peter of one of those self guided vacuum cleaners from the early 2000s only a bit bigger. It also reminded him a bit of the explosive anti-tank mines that had been and still were used in warzones to this day.

Peter doubted that the Queen of All The Earth wanted to vacuum his apartment or blow it up either. A moment later, all questions about what the device was were answered when a holographic image of the Queen appeared over the object. It wasn't anything like the holograms of this era, though. The Queen looked as solid and physically present as if she herself was standing right there on the balcony.

"Maggie, open the balcony doors, please," Peter asked. As they slid open, he stepped out onto the balcony. He realized that his heart was pounding with excitement and, to be honest, a bit of fear. He looked the woman over, head to foot and back, then managed a smile through his moment of surprise. Peter wasn't entirely sure how to greet her, and all that came out was, "Good evening."

 

[JustAnotherHornyGirl]

The Space Station
Over the Atlantic Ocean
Local time and date: Wednesday, 14 July 2032, 2:00am

"Good evening to you as well, Mister Jacobson," the Queen responded to Peter's simple greeting. "I know that it is late in the evening in California, and I apologize if my unannounced visit to you is taking you away from anything important."

It was 2 hours past midnight where the Queen was in the middle of the Atlantic, not that that meant much to her as she had issues in the works across 24 times zones. 2am here meant it was after 9pm where Peter was in California, and while she didn't know anything about Peter Jacobson's life and how it was affected by this hour of the night, she was well aware that only a select few people in a select few industries did business at this hour.

A trio of tiny cameras on the front of the device over which she seemed to be standing worked together to produce a three dimensional representation of Peter before her on the Station, while microphones picked up his words and played them to her in stereo as well. It wasn't quite as realistic as her image was to him over the device on his balcony deck, but it was sufficient to give her a good view of the man.

The Queen knew, however, that she wasn't interrupting anything Peter Jacobson might have been doing. The drone that had just departed his balcony had been surveilling his 68th floor condominium for more than an hour. And it hadn't only been looking at the Wilshire Grand Tower apartment's exterior but had also been using its surveying technology to view the entire abode from front to back, left to right, as if the entire place and not just the balcony doors was made out of glass.

After he responded to her concern, the Queen told Peter, "I need your assistance, sir. I have been reading about you, as I have been about a great many people. My Aides believe that you, with the technological knowledge and manufacturing capabilities at your fingertips, could be a great asset in my quest to save this planet from the disaster about which I spoke earlier in the evening. I'm assuming you viewed my message to the world, yes?"

She had no doubts that Peter had, and after he again responded, she continued, "The device via which you and I are now speaking is one of only a few dozen that my technicians have created. I require hundreds and eventually thousands of these devices -- which we refer to as HoloPads -- in the days, months, and years to come, in order to conduct the business of diplomacy with worlds leaders in government, business, science, and more.

"I would like to make you an offer, Mister Jacobson," she continued. "The Holopad upon which, from your point of view, I appear to be standing can be manufactured from the technology available to you in this time. All you need are the plans. I will provide these plans to you, on the condition that you will begin production of them immediately and begin delivery within 10 days."

She hesitated to see if Peter had a response, then continued, "In exchange, I will, as they say, owe you a favor. All you need is ask. If it is something of which I am capable and, of course, inclined to do, I will see that it is done."

Again she hesitated to see if Peter had something to say, then finished, "Please keep this particular Holopad near in the days to come, so that we two may speak from time to time. In anticipation of your acceptance of my offer, a second drone is just off the coast hovering. It will deliver to you a second example of the Holopad device, as well as the design schematics within minutes."

 

[KyleReevis]

Los Angeles, Tuesday 13 July, 2am

"Good evening to you as well, Mister Jacobson."

Peter wasn't exactly an unknown person on Planet Earth, of course. People all over the world knew who he was because of his career, businesses, and of course his philanthropic efforts in both social and environmental areas.

But he was still a bit surprised that the Queen of All the Earth -- who supposedly only arrived in orbit from the future less than a day ago -- would have the slightest knowledge of him. He wasn't a world leader and wasn't political, at least not from a partisan point of view. He and his various organizations had given money to Republicans, Democrats, and Independents over the years, so long as that money would help elect a man or woman who would work for the good of society and not simply to rack up more political contributions for his or her next election or vacation house or yacht.

"I know that it is late in the evening in California, and I apologize if my unannounced visit to you is taking you away from anything important."

"Not at all," he responded politely. He contemplated adding Your Highness or something royal like that, but he neither knew whether it was appropriate or whether she actually was a royal. He added, "It's still early for me and I wasn't occupied with anything other than watching the sunset. And even if it wasn't early or I was busy, I can't imagine it would be anything more important that taking a, um, call from you."

He couldn't help but examine her appearance before him with great curiosity and joy. The technology before him had been in the works for decades, and yet they were still likely more decades away from making it so incredibly lifelike.

She spoke of needing his assistance, asking, "I'm assuming you viewed my message to the world, yes?"

"Of course," he said with a smile. "Wouldn't have missed it for the world."

She spoke of the device, calling it a HoloPad, then told him she wanted him to make many more for her. Before she even got to the terms, Peter had already decided that he would do it, even if he had to pay her for the rights to do so. The tech that would come from studying such a device would keep dozens of designers and hundreds of tech industry workers busy for weeks, months, possibly years.

Then she said, "I will provide these plans to you, on the condition that you will begin production of them immediately and begin delivery within 10 days."

He chuckled out of surprise, then apologized before saying, "I don't think that's possible."

But she assured him that with the plans she was offering, he would be able to meet the deadline. He gave the Queen a polite head nod -- not a bow, per se -- and promised, "I will do my utmost best. My people are the best and the most motivated in their fields. They are also well paid, so, they won't mind me calling them at ten at night to tell them to be early for the most interesting of projects on which they've ever worked.


"In exchange, I will, as they say, owe you a favor," the Queen told Peter. "All you need is ask. If it is something of which I am capable and, of course, inclined to do, I will see that it is done."

"I have something in mind," Peter said without hesitation. He couldn't tell whether his sudden statement had surprised her or not as she seemed very skilled at containing her emotions. "I need to speak to a man first, though. May I get back to you on this in a day or two?"

She agreed, told him about the second drone and Holopad on its way, and seemed ready to end the conversation. Peter quickly asked, "What do I call you?"

Again, she contained her reaction to his change of course for the conversation, and he clarified his inquiry, "I mean, do I call you Queen? Your Majesty? Your Highness? Or do you have a given name, something a mere businessman such as myself could be permitted to call you, maybe when it's just the two of us in the room? Not that we are actually in the same room."

 

[JustAnotherHornyGirl]

"And even if it wasn't early or I was busy," Peter Jacobson told the Queen, "I can't imagine it would be anything more important that taking a, um, call from you."

She smiled at his roundabout compliment, wondering whether it resulted from her being who she was or looking the way she did. The was very aware that whether in her time or his, she was considered to be a very beautiful woman. The clothes tended to show off her delicious curves as well, which honestly was part of the reason she'd worn them for her introduction to the Humans of the 21st century.

"I don't think that's possible," Peter said when she laid out her request to begin receiving HoloPads in just 10 days.

"I have confidence in you, Mister Jacobson," the Queen told him with a sincere tone. "With the plans I am furnishing you, you can duplicate this device with already existing technologies. The science behind it is already available in your time. The only thing missing are a few innovative thoughts that, you might be surprised to learn, are only a few years out from this time."

When she told him that she would owe him a favor, Peter said quickly, "I have something in mind. I need to speak to a man first, though. May I get back to you on this in a day or two?"

"Of course, anytime," she said with another smile. Then he asked "What do I call you?"

Peter tossed out the titles he assumed might be appropriate, and when he was done the Queen told him, "My people address me as Your Majesty."

She considered his request for her given name, and surprising even herself, she told him, "My given name is Mistra. And..."

She again took a moment, then said, "And when we are, as you phrased it, in the same room, I would be pleased to have you use my name, if you would permit me to use your given name as well ... Peter."

With that taken care of, she begged his forgiveness for having to cut their meeting short, telling him, "I have a few dozen world leaders, some in power and some who wish to be in power, with whom I must make my formal acquaintance. In fact, I think you are very familiar with one of them, Nurla Mamin."

She hesitated, wondering whether or not Peter wished to make any comments about the Kazak opposition leader who twice had nearly been assassinated during his attempts to become Kazakhstan's Prime Minister and, for the past 8 years, had been in hiding in France, where yet again he'd nearly been killed by his own treacherous security forces.

 

[KyleReevis]

"I have confidence in you, Mister Jacobson," the Queen said.

Peter was pleased with the woman's confidence, though to be honest, he couldn't imagine being able to meet her deadline. She promised him that with her information and his access, he could get the job done.

When he asked the Queen what he was supposed to call her, she told him, "My given name is Mistra. And... and when we are, as you phrased it, in the same room, I would be pleased to have you use my name, if you would permit me to use your given name as well ... Peter."

"I would be pleased as well," he said, smiling and possibly sounding a bit flirty, though he hadn't actually meant it that way. She made her apologies for cutting their meeting short, then mentioned Nurla Mamin."

A chill literally ran up Peter's spine and caused his skin to erupt in goose pimples. He'd found it unbelievable that the Queen -- Mistra -- had known of he himself, so hearing her speak of Nurla was simply unimaginable.

"Yes, Mister Mamin and I are very familiar with one another," he admitted. "I'm not certain how deep your own knowledge of him is, but I can tell you, the people of Kazakhstan need him at the helm of their country."

Then a thought came to Peter, and he asked, "If you don't mind, could I ask what your interest in Mamin might be? I mean, he's not in power in Kazakhstan. In fact, he's not even currently in Kazakhstan."

Peter almost said he was in Paris, but then wondered whether he should. Then he had a duh moment, recalling that Mistra had said she was going to speak to the opposition leader, which meant she already knew where he was.

"I assume you know what I'm about to tell you," Peter went on, "and if you aren't, I'd like you to know. We call it transparency. You probably do, too? Anyway, I have been supporting Nurla Mamin, both financially and politically, for many years now. He is an honest man and a strong leader, and like I said, his people need him."

Then he smiled, wondering. "You said you would owe me a favor if I was able to deliver on your devices, your HoloPads."

Peter looked for an indication in Mistra's face that she knew what was coming. "If you could somehow help Mamin in gaining control of Kazakhstan -- I don't mean a military coup or anything violent, of course -- but if you could somehow help him achieve the only thing he has ever wanted, which is to lead his people toward the peace and prosperity that has alluded them for so long due to the corruption and state led violence..."

He went silent as he drew a sudden and emotional breath. He chuckled softly, explaining, "I'm sorry, Mistra. This, um ... this has been an interest of mine for quite sometime, and speaking of it ... well, it's good to be able to do so but hard at the same time."

Peter smiled to the Queen again, gave her a polite nod of his head, and said, "I will let you get to your other meetings ... Your Highness."

 

[JustAnotherHornyGirl]

"Yes, Mister Mamin and I are very familiar with one another," Peter confirmed, not that he had to as Queen Mistra was very well aware of their association. He asked, "If you don't mind, could I ask what your interest in Mamin might be? I mean, he's not in power in Kazakhstan. In fact, he's not even currently in Kazakhstan."

With a rather noncommittal tone, she answered, "I have an interest in all people who in mind the best for their people."

Peter explained his relationship with the Minister-in-Exile, calling him an honest man and a strong leader. Mistra's information seemed to indicate this as well, but it was good to hear confirmation of it from Peter Jacobson.

"You said you would owe me a favor if I was able to deliver on your devices, your HoloPads."

"I would," Mistra told Peter. She was about to tell him that assisting Mamin gain power in Kazakhstan would indeed be something she could do, but he beat her to it, telling her that such help would be all that he would ask for his owed favor. She couldn't commit to anything on such a spur of the moment discussion, but Mistra told Peter, "I value your commitment to Minister Mamin, and I value his work for his people. I will let you know whether or not I can help in this situation ... in ten days."

Mistra smiled at the mentioning of the deadline on which the two of them had agreed for the HoloPads. She looked away to an Aide who had politely moved into her peripheral vision, trying to gain her attention. To Peter, it would comically appear as if the Queen was staring at his corner ficus tree. She looked back to him and said, "Forgive me, Mister Jacobson, but I have another call to make."

"I will let you get to your other meetings ... Your Highness."

"We will speak again soon," she said with a sincere, promising tone. "I look forward to seeing just what all we can do for each other."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Mistra let her gaze drop from Peter's face. What the man couldn't know was that over the past 20 hours, the Researchers who had been looking into which tech industry men and women might be able to help them had found biographical information on Peter Jacobson that had incidentally included some images of him on a beach in swim wear.

Mistra had been impressed with the man's fit figure, particular because of his age and how he'd spent so much of his time over the years, sitting at a computer or desk. As Queen, she had almost unfettered access to any number of men -- and women! -- who could and would fulfill any and all of her sexual needs and desires.

But that hadn't prevented Mistra from looking at the images of Peter and imagining him in even less than the tight fitting trunks from the magazine pictures. It also hadn't prevented her from doing some additional research on her own, using her also unfettered access to Earth's innumerable online sources to find even more images of the man in revealing attire, as well as many articles about his love life and other social issues.

If pressed by others -- which she obviously wouldn't be -- Mistra couldn't deny that Peter Jacobson tended to make her tingle a bit in some very sensitive places.

 

[KyleReevis]

(OOC: I think we messed up the dates and times in both my IC post above and your OOC post #1. For anyone whose following the story, I believe that the time and date right now are Tuesday, 13 July 2032, about 9:00pm.)


Peter found himself almost joyous in Queen Mistra's vow to at least consider helping his friend, Nurla. The two of them had known one another for 25 years, since they'd met at CalTech as post grads. They'd spent many a night back then discussing politics in the former Soviet territories. Nurla had returned to his country determined to see a stable, democratic government take its place in Kazakhstan. A quarter of a century later, after he'd made quite a name for himself as an opposition party leader, he was still waiting to see his dream fulfilled.

"We will speak again soon," Mistra told Peter, adding, "I look forward to seeing just what all we can do for each other."

Just before her image faded away and he was left alone once more, Peter thought that for an instant that Mistra might have been giving his figure a once over survey. He couldn't help but smile at the thought as he had to be twice her age if not more, and she was, of course, the Queen of All the Earth, even if it many or most of the people of 21st century Earth weren't so hip on acknowledging her self-appointed title.

Yeah, sure, he was a billionaire, one of the world's richest men, and he was told quite often that he was a good looking man, both in the face and in the body. But again, Mistra was Queen of the fucking world! What the hell was she doing ogling his relatively ancient body?

No, it was his imagination, Peter told himself as he watched a second drone -- or maybe the first one returning? -- to his balcony, where it lowered a case onto the deck before once again flying away. Seeing it go left Peter wondering whether or not it had come all the way from the station over the Atlantic or whether there might be a second station or even a spaceship nearer to California.

He struggled to pull the case into his home, opened it, and just stared at the contents. There was another HoloPad just like the first, but it was accompanied by an assortment of other parts and tools, as well as a device that he would find was a 3D generating Owners/Operators Manual of sort.

"I'm going to need you and the team in the office early tomorrow," he told his Chief of Technological Advancements on the phone just short of midnight. The man was obviously curious about what Peter had in mind, but he didn't grill his boss because when Peter Jacobson wanted people in early, they came in early. He hung up the phone and called his Head of Security, who lived in the Wilshire Grand Tower down on the 14th floor. "I'm going to need you and a four man team here in my place as soon as possible, and arrange an armored car with an escort for 6am as well."

"How much of an escort would you like, Mister Jacobson," the Security Chief inquired. "Are we talking get the cafe's daily receipts to the bank safely or shutting down the town for POTUS?"

"The last," Peter said without explanation.

**************​

At 5:50am, an armored car with two lead and two follow cars pulled up into the covered reception area of the Tower. A dozen bodyguards licensed to carry automatic rifles fanned out both inside and outside the doors while a half dozen uniformed men on motorcycles lined up on the street, ready to lead the procession through the busy streets of Los Angeles.

Ten minutes later, the bodyguards who'd been in the apartment all night delivered both of the HoloPads and the case full of equipment to the beast of a vehicle, and off it went with flashing LED strobe lights. One might have actually thought it was the President of the United States as the motorcycle mounted men blocked intersections heading out of downtown and east for the campus of PJI, Peter Jacobson Innovations.

Peter and his technicians spent the first day sitting in a dark room watching the 3D explanation of what the HoloPad was, how it operated, and how it needed to be duplicated. Then, they watched it again. And again. Only then, did they begin to ever so carefully disassemble the device to get a closer, first hand view of it.

"Can we do this?" Peter asked at day's end when he gathered the men and women together. He got mostly quiet looks at first, but then, one by one, his people agreed that with the HoloPad, the instructions, and the tools given, it was only a matter of beginning the machining. "We start tomorrow then. And as we did with the XTR processor, we'll be eating, sleeping, and shitting here until we get it right, so call your wives and husbands and other such significant others. We live this project until it's complete."

There were moans and groans, of course, but they were mostly light hearted. These people were the most professional and dedicated designers and creators Peter had ever known, and once they got started on something, they didn't quit until they'd achieved success. And they had all been well compensated for their efforts in the past, with some of them even being millionaires because of their work for PJI.

Peter set up the first of the HoloPads in his office, sat back with a drink in his hand, and wondered to himself How do I call her, the Queen, Mistra, if I just want to chat. I guess I should have asked. He'd thought that maybe that would have been explained in the tech hologram, but the operational side of the device hadn't been included.

That made Peter wonder something else, too: what other functions beyond creating a 3D image does the HoloPad have? He stared at it and recalled what he'd thought the first time he'd seen it, that it looked almost like a land mine. Naw. Couldn't be. Could it?

 

[JustAnotherHornyGirl]

The meeting between Queen Mistra and President Helen Richardson went just about the way each of them had expected. The greeted each other politely, introducing some of the Aides that were in attendance at each end of the call; POTUS spoke of her awe with and desire to learn more about the technology that had brought Mistra from the 26th century, and Mistra spoke of how wonderful it was to once again see 21st century Earth still green and blue, as opposed to varying shades of gray and brown; the Queen gave a short recap of how environmental destruction and resource depletion had turned Helen's world into her own, and Helen spoke of how the United States was leading the way in attempting to reverse those destructive trends.

But that, of course, was where the meeting began to break down. Mistra politely but firmly told the President that her administration, her country, and her people weren't doing enough. She told Helen that this was largely because of the influence of big money in every facet of life in the US and across the globe, as well as the uber-wealthy's desire to keep their own big money in their own pockets, regardless of the destruction their actions were responsible for, directly or indirectly.

POTUS's response to that was polite but curt. "And it is your belief that if we turn over control of our country, of our planet, to you, that you will be able to do better."

"It is," Mistra responded with a polite tone and slight smile.

Helen began a practiced monologue about freedom and democracy and of how the American people would never permit such a radical shift in government, but Mistra suddenly cut in with, "Madam President, the current population of the United States of America is just over 350 million men, women, and children. Of them, 44 million live below the poverty line, over 12 percent. More than 32 million workers make minimum wage or less after you calculate for the various and currently legal ways in which employers perform take-back deductions from pay checks. After your recent reductions in Affordable Health Care, 36 million people cannot afford to go to a doctor, even for life threatening issues. More than 5,000 homeowners suffer foreclosures in an average month!"

Mistra paused a moment, knowing that if she wished, she could continue to list any number of memorized facts about how hard life was for certain population groups in the US. She continued, "Madam President, you may think that the people of the United States of America would not eagerly accept their country being handed over to me, as you like to think of it. But I think that maybe after they see what I can offer them, you may just find that you are mistaken."

Mistra hadn't planned on ending the meeting so abruptly, but she was beginning to lose her composure. She gestured to her Aide at the Communications System, and he cut off the message with the tap of a finger on a screen. The Queen stood there quiet and still before the now deenergized camera -- the President's people had nixed the HoloPad, fearing it might have been a weapon -- and wondered about the conversation that was taking place in the Oval Office of the White House.

She wouldn't have to wonder long, of course, as a satellite over D.C. that had been listening in on conversations across multiple buildings for the past day was right now recording every word being spoken between POTUS and her staff. Mistra would get reports from the Aides who were listening to the conversations as they felt necessary, and she might even listen in on some of the recordings herself, just for curiosity's sake.

"Do we broadcast your recording, Your Majesty?" Mistra's Senior Communications Aide asked.

She considered the conversation she'd just had for a moment, then told the woman, "All frequencies, all media. I want the people of Earth -- in particular the Americans -- to know just what I'm offering them. They can decide on their own whether it's worth the price."

A moment later, a message Mistra had recorded even before the jump to the 21st century began broadcasting. As with her greeting days earlier, it played in multiple languages on smart phones, computers, televisions, and giant public screens across the planet, as well as on every radio frequency available from A.M and F.M. to HAM radio and closed private networks.

The message promised the people of Earth a life of peace and prosperity, with Mistra listing specifically things she would ensure they had, things many people didn't have today. She spoke of the environmental issues facing the people and their world, of the war, disease, famine, and other tragedies they were facing day in, day out.

"Your leaders will tell you that you will be sacrificing your freedom and liberty if you support a transition to this new way of life. I ask you to ask yourself this question: considering what I am offering you and what I am asking of you in return, do you believe you will be better off continuing as things are now?"

She spoke a bit more about her vows, made her farewells, and stepped away from the camera with a need to get off her feet and eat. As she did, her Aide told her, "Minister Mamin has been contacted and has accepted receipt of a HoloPad, Your Majesty. He is standing by. And, in my opinion, he appeared more than delighted to be taking the meeting."

 

[JustAnotherHornyGirl]

For anyone reading along, Kyle and I have decided to work on something else together. Sorry if this disappoints anyone. (There were a lot of "views" of the thread, so we know that people were taking a peek, but honestly, I can't know if anyone was actually reading along.)

 

[WALTERALBERT]

To Kyle Reeves & 'JustAnotherHornyGirl'---I thought it was a very good well written story--In a sense it reminded me of the TV series 'V' which was a 1980's &'90's scyfi series about a giant alien spaceship that invaded Earth-The aliens were lizard-like-with human faces