Chapter 4: Preparations
"...There!"
Métley clapped the dust off her hands, and admired her work.
"All in a night's work... you ought to keep this place more organized or your body's going to get worse by the minute..." she glanced at the clock. Cleaning up the mess Aria had left out of neglect took her approximately 3 hours and 43 minutes. She washed her hands and face before forcing herself to sleep.
"I'm sacrificing control tonight for your health... your eyes are killing me... no more late night dramas for you..." she heaved the weight of Aria's body onto the bed, "... though, I can't really gain control unless you allow me to..."
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Rhyme smacked the alarm drone on the first beep it made. Sleep wasn't her priority at this point in time. She rushed to her bathroom, brushed her teeth and dressed up for her day job. All documents had been prepared last night by Discord. However, it was Rhyme this morning who, in lieu, made sure she had everything set for the meeting today. She would usually just grab the folder and rushed so as not to be late, but she had plenty of time this morning.
She reviewed all the files, making sure that Discord would have as much ammunition to persuade the higher-ups that this project would improve the quality of life, from an economical standpoint (because that's the most important factor to take into consideration, of course) as well as a social standpoint (that is, how the citizens of the world would react to it; if they're not interested, they're not going to use it, and if they're not using it, there's no point to it being funded by the government).
Rhyme munched on her French toast while staring bullets into the potential statistics, numbers and estimations related to that nutty professor's project. Rhyme had to admit that by acquainting herself with him, she had managed to attain more success in her job. She would have to properly express her gratitude to him if the project went well; the bitter coffee she had to wash down the toast down only served to enhance her memories of him, or more specifically, his unkempt hair.
With fire in her heart and spirits, she set out to the World Government Hall, early in the morning. She felt prepared, even though she knew she would have to rely on Discord.
She was the third person to have arrived in the meeting room. The president and the vice president were discussing political affairs when she came in.
"You're early, Ms. Rivetta, I hope the project is worth the enthusiasm you're showing," the president said after glancing on the figure entering the room, his eyes were set on the paperwork he had on his hand. He muttered to his vice president, seemingly ordering him to carry out what he had decided to do. The vice president nodded in response, and walked away to the administration room.
"Yes, Mr. President... I can assure you and the members of the cabinet that this will indeed be an interesting project to consider funding," this was Discord speaking, with an intermezzo of Rhyme thinking, "Money won't mean much if the invasion happens anyway..." Discord hushed her to keep her focus. She set down her possessions on her seat as the Secretary of State, next to the World President's, and waited for the other members to arrive. It was usually the other way around.
"What were you talking about with Vice President Ilechi?" Discord asked while tidying up her papers, before categorizing and organizing the president's papers.
The president kept his eyes on his papers, also arranging it like clockwork, "Military provisions, we're lacking in storage space and were discussing on utilizing a remote uninhabited island on the Far East," he stapled the documents he was handling, then passed it over to Discord, "The problem was the cost it would take to transport even just a squadron to and from that island for provisions."
The military provisions served as both an emergency backup plan as well as a threat. The world may have been united but there's no guarantee radical terrorists wouldn't surface now and again; hoarding the weapons in secret would provide the element of surprise, and to no one's surprise, most potent weapons from the GRC with disastrous effects had been approved and mass-produced. Soldiers would train on how to use these weapons on the military exclusive continent, the Densia Continent. The amount of soldiers were abundant, and as such, weapons had to be as well, or so went their lines of thinking. "What exactly are they compensating for... Men, maniacs for weaponry since time immemorial," Discord thought in her head.
Although... this could be the added leverage she needed to hammer that final nail in the coffin. She was confident before, but now she had the arsenal to fight, as well as the coup de grâce at her disposal. "Professor Jacquel Martinez will enjoy the privileges of the ER Lounge for more than a mere months after this meeting..." she thought, as she stapled the final documents, and stood up to sort them into the archives. The work that looked tedious was finished in a couple of minutes by these two competent individuals, entrusted with their respective duties. The same could not be said to the other cabinet members, which seemed to have picked up on Rhyme's tendencies, or had already tended to do so, without Rhyme's knowing. "So that's why I was always tolerated for being late... I just happened to be the latest among all the late ones..." Rhyme pondered with this realization and wondered if it would be okay to be more relaxed in the days to come should she continue with her habit of waking up late.
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"Commander," the lackey snarled, "The Armada is locked, loaded and equipped to invade the planet now."
The commander, cracking its appalling appendages, answered in satisfaction, destroying the intelligent dummies of the starship's extreme training room, envisioning them as humans.
"Excellent... have the younglings learned how to transform fully?"
"Partially, but-"
"We can't go in recklessly," the commander growled, "They're a species of potential! Who knows how much they had evolved from our past encounters!"
The lackey was stunned. "Take no chances. We're not going on a war. We're going to commit a genocide, and we want minimal casualties from our side. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, commander!"
The Armada, squadrons of starships, surrounded the world, biding their time to penetrate the protective atmosphere, to lay waste and havoc to the species responsible for their Queen's death.
"We will avenge you soon, My Queen," a gruesome growl followed with the futile resistance of the intelligence dummies ensued.