Any suspicions that Stanley might have had about strange wonders that might present themselves inside the Trust's offices are not confirmed, at least not immediately.  The lobby is well-appointed with dark wood paneling everywhere; there is clear craftsmanship and class in the work, but it does not cross the line into extravagance.  Perhaps the detail that stands out most, from his understanding of the time, is that the employees to be seen are fairly balanced in both their ethnicity and their gender, and there is likewise a mix of Western and native dress among them.  But there is hardly any sign of otherworldly anachronism on display.

Shortly after making their entrance, a man in his twenties approaches the group.  He's of Asian descent, but wears a dapper three-piece suit.  "Welcome to the Trust," he says, addressing Stanley.  "May I ask your names and your business?"

"My name is Stanley Newton and my friends here are The Traveller, Smoke Alarm, Kalath, and Sairen."
Stanley smiles politely. Given the lack of anything obviously futuristic in this place, he decides to explain the reason for their visit without mentioning anything about time travel or the future. "We are here to see Ms. Kismet. Mister Sairen has an appointment with her, though it was originally scheduled at a different time. I am sure she will want to see us if she hears we are here."

Peering out from under her blue newsboy cap, Smoke Alarm outlooked about interestedly at the office, but it was, as predicted, still yawny. There weren't even puters, picturespouts, or talkiphones, so she wondered how they got anything done here. 'How you do.' she greeted with a curtsey, an abbreviation of the full ritual.

Trav is looking around. She finds herself mapping the place in a way she never had before. In all her other lives she was a gunwoman - always measuring cover, firing lines, exits and escape routes. First with her Quantum Winchester, and then her Turbopistols, she had always used guns. Only the Marshall, a brutal melee fighter, closed in, destroying foes with her Rod.

But now, as she looks about, she finds herself mapping the place as to how to move and jump and balance, what objects she'd need to vault to get to the rafters, how to move so as to not hurt anyone. The Marshall's old kinetic understanding was mapping gracefully the Traveller's situational awareness - and what was even better, it wasn't violent. This new body wanted to run and jump and tumble, and while it could fight (in fact, it was very capable of doing so), it could do more.

That was alright. That was enjoyable.

Trav nods. "Yes. Alternatively, you can call me Mrs Simons from Michigan by way of San Francisco, from the United States. We're here to see a Ms. Kismet. Thank you for seeing us."

The man's eyes narrow slightly as Sairen is named.  "One moment, please."

He turns and exits through a door behind the building's reception desk.  Some minutes later, he returns, saying, "If you'll please accompany me, Lady Kismet will see you immediately."  He leads them through a set of double doors at the far end of the lobby, leading to a wide double-switchbacked stairway up to the second floor.  Across from the head of the stairs sits another pair of heavy double doors and vertical brass handles.  The man pushes them open, allowing them entrance to a spacious office.

The office is dominated by a massive desk of dark wood and a wide window looking out toward the harbor.  Most of either side wall is taken up by bookshelves holding volumes in a variety of bindings, but here and there are positioned objets d'art from a considerable span of geography and history -- though nothing anachronistic that Trav can identify at first sight.  A draped table in one corner supports an ancient-looking samovar, and there's a faint scent of sandalwood and other incense.

The woman sitting behind the desk rises smoothly.  "Thank you, Mr. Wu, that will be all."  Neither Trav nor Stanley recognize her features.  She's tall and wide-shouldered, with coiffed dark hair, cream-and-coffee skin and an Arabic cast to her features, and she wears a business jacket over a rather austere dress, in a shade of maroon so dark it is almost black.

She glances over all the travellers' faces as Wu nods and makes his retreat from the room, giving a fond little smile as she studies Smoke Alarm, a nod of recognition to Stanley, a tilt of the head to Trav, and a wary look to Kalath.  And a slightly exasperated smirk as she notes Sairen.

"Well," she says at last, "you are considerably early for your appointed arrival, Mr. Sairen.  May I understand the reason why you've arrived here bringing your guests, and not bearing the object for which I've retained your services?"

Trav pushes up her glasses. Immediately, the glasses start to analyze Ms. Kismet. She's interested in how her protege has been developing, and where she can place this one in the Phillipe continuum.

"We've dealt with the object. Proper mourning has carried out, and it's threat has been neutralized. Its good to see you again. We both have new looks, it seems.

OOC: Ingenuity+Science or Tech?
16:45, Today: The Traveller rolled 21 using 2d6+16 with rolls of 4,1.  2d6+Ingenuity+Science+Glasses - Trav Scans Ms Kismet W/Glasses.

This message was last edited by the player at 20:46, Wed 01 Nov 2017.

Smoke Alarm footed up to the window where she could outlook over the city. From here, she could eyespy all the interesting sights of the city, from here to the harbour, and all the ways she could run over it if she had to. The Kang was instinctively mapping escape routes, just as a matter of course.

'I put it on the scrapheap and we made it rest in pieces.' she clarified for Traveller, thinking she'd missed important details.

Trav didn't miss anything - she wanted to have Smoke Alarm add to the explanation. She nods sagely as Smoke Alarm explains truthfully. "I couldn't have said it better myself. It was Smoke Alarm's idea. I certainly wouldn't have thought of it."

As Trav and Smoke Alarm are explaining, Kismet's expression slowly transforms into one of utter incredulity.

"You. What?"  She rounds on Sairen with an accusing look.  "Do you even realize the groundwork that had to be laid, the favors that had to be called in, to acquire what you needed to steal the Death?  And you come back empty-handed?"

Sairen's eyes widen, but he responds equably enough.  "Your friends here -- I assume they're friends; they seemed to think so -- they're awfully determined people."  He indicates Kalath.  "It was always going to be touch and go, and when she stepped into the middle of it, well.  It's a good thing she believed me, or you still would not have laid your hands on the Death of the Calixi, you just would have produced a whacking great serving of death, small D."

Kismet considers this.  "Friends," she says flatly.  She looks back at Trav.  "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.  But you know full well who is coming, and I'm running short of time.
 Subjectively speaking.  It would have been better to have that ace up one's sleeve, that much is certain."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:46, Fri 03 Nov 2017.

Trav frowns.

"No, young lady, it *wouldn't have*. Haven't I taught you anything? That weapon was incarnated sadness. You don't counter evil with evil - you fight evil with good. Had it been so long for you since Arsuran, and the lesson that we taught you there? Everyone loses in a Time War, I'm walking, talking proof of that. In case I haven't made myself clear - any artifacts or weapons from the Time War are off limits, to everyone. As the last Time Lord, they are my precinct, alone."

She crosses her arms. "Sairen brought back the cause of the death - me. We already clashed with the great enemy at the end of time, and we gave him a bloody nose and sent him packing. You want your resource? Here I am."

Her face grows soft and sad. "What are you trying to do? Maybe we can help, and in such a way that doesn't involve the ungodly risks of something like the Death. I know my super weapons, and they're all awful." Even the noble SDF-1 brought death to billions of Zentraedi in orbit above Earth - ship she helped Earth people rebuild.

Even before the Marshall. Even before the Time War. Her hands

Dripped.

With.

Blood.

She remembers recoiling in horror and crying, alone, as she watched the Zentraedi rain of Death and subsequent genocide from the Observatory, wearing her 2nd face.

She gently takes Kismet's hands. "Don't be like me. Don't make my mistakes."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:32, Thu 02 Nov 2017.

'More, it was the good thing to do.' Smoke Alarm had chipped in after Traveller, sure and sound in her view. She footed away from the window, eyespying Ms Kismet and chiding her 'Mayhaps it was a safety hazard, mayhaps it wasn't, but the unalive Calixi had to be rememorised and helped to rest. No ball-games, no fly-posts, no keeping the unalive in a tin can another million tick-tocks.'

"For what it is worth, I also think it was the right thing to do." Stanley adds. "And with what we are up against, I seriously doubt it would be an effective weapon."

"Are they?  Are they, truly?  Perhaps you are the one who forgets, Traveller: I am an artifact of that war, and the TAROT is.  And we are not the possessions of anyone but ourselves."

She shakes her head.  "You aren't blind, Traveller.  You know precisely what i am trying to do: I am preparing to fight a war against my own future, and the Beast being who he is, it is likely that I will have to destroy all my knowledge of those preparations, just to hide my plans from him.  So I am building an edifice that can live beyond this self for when it is needed.  An arsenal, yes.  An army, yes.  One that understands the mission and can carry it on without me."

Kismet spreads her hands.  "Here and now, that just means working within this society and the structures of commerce -- so when the technology of Earth is ready to build what I'll need, I will be prepared.  It's a difficult enough task, but I'm not sure it is anything that need concern you, particularly as you seem not to approve of my intentions."

OOC: Trav -- A Presence / Convince may be appropriate depending on your response to this.

Others may make an Awareness + Ingenuity (with Keen Senses or Empathic)

OOC: Not doing anything, but still here!


13:43, Today: Kalath rolled 16 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 4,5.  Awareness + Ingenuity + Keen Senses.

'Building an edifice?' Smoke Alarm gasped. 'That's Great Architect talk!'


OOC: 10:44, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 14 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 4,1. awareness(4) + ingenuity(3) + Keen Senses(2).

"You're sapient and have free will, so you obviously belong to you. What do you have planned? I'm not your enemy. Maybe I can help. Maybe there's a way for all of us to prepare to meet our futures that doesn't have to hurt anyone. As long as people's choices aren't suborned, I'm entirely for efforts to maintain personal freedom. We need each other to face this, Kismet, we can't do it alone and we can't force people who don't know to become our foot soldiers. We need you to help us fight The Beast. I know what it's like to be transformed and turned into something horrible, as well. And I won't have fear and mistrust drive us apart. I love you and I want to work with you... please. Also, from a brutally effecient point of view, I have fought a Time War and you have not, to my knowledge. All of me will be here for you, including the Marshall."

She reflects about how similar this was to the choice she and her R-Space companions had face when participating in the birth of the magical Shedraya time demons, and now participating in the birth of literally another demon.

"As for your knowledge of your preparations - turn them over to me, and I will execute them after helping you hide from your future self. You know there is no one better qualified - someone who has faced the Beast personally."

Instead of the Blonde's loud, impassioned pleas, the Blue Traveller is talking quietly, holding Kismet's hand, eyes soft and sad.

OOC: Presence+Convince, 2 SP (now down to 3) because Voice of Authority is absolutely not appropriate here.
09:44, Today: The Traveller rolled 21 using 5d6+5 ((1,1,5,6,3)).

This message was last edited by the player at 14:55, Sun 05 Nov 2017.

OOC: 19:17, Today: Stanley Newton rolled 19 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 6,3.  Awareness (4) + Ingenuity (4) + Empathic (2).

Kismet gives a long sigh then.  Clasping Trav's hands, she leans forward until her forehead is resting against Trav's.

"I'm so glad to hear you say you'll help, and not stand in my way," she says.  "Every day I've questioned myself on this.  Remembering what I did as Warlock and asking myself over and over if I'm doing the same thing again.  I honestly do not believe I am, Traveller, but there is so little that can be left to chance... and I am so very tired.

"The idea is to build a trap for the Beast.  I ran TAROT samplings for years to arrive at just the sketch of this, but...  My plan, now, is to put together an array of six-dimensional recursion engines.  Aligned correctly, that should give him no exit into the vortex, not out of 3-space, not out of time, not through the etheric or the psychic axis.

"So you see the extent of what I need here: the wealth to acquire the source mass, the technical knowledge and the engineers to build and run the collapsed matter breeders, the infrastructure to put it all in the right place to minimize the risk to any nearby civilization, and finally some lure to get the Beast into the trap.

"But that is a long way from here and now.  And from what I can see, it will take an empire to build, a small one at least, and that means I must keep all my enterprises running and growing until I can be ready."

All during this conversation, the others have noticed something hesitant in Kismet's stance and speech.  It reminds Kalath of a prey animal, warned of danger by its instincts reacting to tiny cues in the environment, below the level that the beast recognizes consciously.

With this last rush of revelations, Stanley thinks he can see the source of it in the way that Kismet's gaze tracks, and in the lean of her body.  Despite the way she had addressed Sairen directly, over the matter of the Death of the Calixi, he suspects something about the man's presence is making her uneasy: she clearly has some reason that she doesn't want him around.

"Listen to me, little girl. I will help, but we'll do it the right way. I will not see you become the Beast in action even if you do not become him in name. Do you understand?" She loves Phillipe so much.

"If you can promise me that no one will be hurt or coerced by any of this, I already have a line of people ready and willing to help. Forward me your plans. I may be able to help you make it easier on you."

She leans back and smiles at Kismet. "You should come travelling with me, some time. Your partner, there, can lead you to all sorts of good places. Other time lords, like the Doctor and the Corsair, would some times urge me to run with them or chase them, and show me wonderful things. Trust those cards. That TAROT is a living being that wants nothing but good for you. Listen to it. When I listen to my Sweet Boy, good things happen."

She turns to Sairen. "As for you, Sir, you need to be paid your kill fee. Care to come with me? Thank you for helping a Jedi and her Padawan come to an understanding. I have something I need to show you, and help with something."

The door opens.  Wu looks in, holding a sealed message.  He nods to Kismet.  "Forgive me for disturbing your meeting, ma'am.  You did wish to be informed as soon as the Admiral's staff had delivered his reply."

He hands over the message, and Kismet opens it.  It can't be a very lengthy message, because she's frowning almost at once.

As all-ways, Smoke Alarm hardly had knowhow of any of this, having gotten a bit lost back at "edifice". While Ms Kismet read her paper-txt, Smoke tugged at Traveller's sleeve, puzzled and asking softly 'Trav, what does she mean? She will become the Beast? The big bad dog man you chased away back at Kestartes? The one Warlock talked about at Arsuran? How so?'

"Maybe. I don't know. It's timey wimey and hard for me to understand. The Beast is someone who someone else tried to turn Phillipe into. They succeeded, sort of."

The question left hanging in the air. Is The Beast a fixed point in time?

"Kismet needs our help in not becoming bad, and in dealing with her if she becomes bad. I love her, and I'll do everything I can for her, because she is not bad. Stanley, you remember Phillipe? We have to do this, for him. We both held him in our arms."

Six-dimensional engines? Collapsed matter? Stanley had a hard time keeping up with what Ms. Kismet was saying. She was building some sort of trap, that much was clear.



"I remember." Stanley says. "But even I didn't, back when we first met I did say I would help you in your fight against The Beast and its cults. Of course, we are going to do everything possible to stop bad things from happening."

Well, if Traveller didn't understand it, what hope did Smoke Alarm have? She thought of the Great Architect Kroagnon, recycling people into soylent green and even the Chief Caretaker into someone he could foot about it in. 'If someone keeps trying to recycle all these people into this Beast thing, then mayhaps we shouldn't try to stopsign the Beast - but instead stop-sign the one trying to make the Beast.'