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"Are we set to go?"

"Aye, aye."

"Alright, let's make this a good run, boys."

A tall, fit man with light brown hair strode on-screen.

Considered to be one of the best dressed individuals in the 8th Century AS, Brandon Simmons was at his peak today. The make-up crew had taken great care that Simmons' rather impressive jawline would be highlight through their altercations. A massive tech crew made sure that any random lights or flashes would be edited out in the blink of an eye, since this was the first time the VA would be broadcasting live from Gaia.

Simmons, walking, began to speak. "This," he began, gesturing at the flora around him, "Is Gaia. This is a paradise, a Garden of Eden."

"Once," continued Simmons, "These places were believed to exist. People wished that they existed. Religions based their dogmas around a place where believers would go to after leading a good life. Today, here in Sirius, through a stroke of luck, fortune, or divine intervention, we have been given the gift of Gaia."

Walking past a colorful bush, Simmons became stern. "Yet at the same time, there are forces out there that wish to destroy this paradise. Forces of corruption, overpowered by Greed. Industrial groups such as the BMM see Gaia as a perfect spawning ground for their hives of factories and typhoons of poisonous gases. Companies like Cryer say that they are saving the human race when they fly down and kidnap thousands of animals, and unroot millions of plant to perform ethically questionable tests on them."

Simmons looked directly at the camera. "Do you want Gaia to bleed? Why should something so innocent, so perfect, suffer for our wrongdoings?"

"The Viridian Alliance is here to help save Gaia, and similar planets," continued Simmons, pacing again. "It's our duty to protect these natural environments by informing the public about the beauty of these precious jewels in Sirius. For next thirty minutes, my colleagues will take you on a live tour of Planet Gaia. Perhaps, you will then realize how much of a treasure Gaia is to the human race. At the end of our program, do not forget to call and enter yourself and your family into a contest to win a free, all-inclusive trip to Planet Gaia."

Stopping Simmons smiled. "So, without further ado, my colleague, Professor Elrich von Rammalen, in the Breitner Gorges region of Planet Gaia."

"Aaaaand, you're off air."

"Brilliant," sighed Simmons.

"Sir," said a young secretary whose name Simmons could not remember, "the press are waiting."

"And they'll have to wait a few more minutes."

Simmons spun around. It was Menard. The bald, heavyset man was interestingly intelligent and sharp - a definitive example of how one should not judge a book by its cover.

"What's up?" asked Simmons.

"Call," said Menard.

Simmons went to his private trailer, made sure that all the doors were closed, and pulled out a small box from his jacket pocket. Loosening his tie, the pushed a button on the box and a yellow light on it began to flash. When the light turned solid green, Simmons activated his holophone.

"Alright, who is it?" asked Simmons.

"Is the area secure?" asked a voice from beneath a voice changer.

"Yup," said Simmons, holding up the black box. "The jammer's in place."

"Good."

There was some static as the voice changer deactivated.

"This is Montesse. I need an update."

"Right," began Simmons. "We just broadcast. In fact, I would be speaking to the press if you hadn't called."

Montesse hissed. "Remember that I'm doing you a favor, Simmons... Don't betray my confidence in you."

"Everything has been working out pretty well," said Simmons more cautiously this time. "We're attempting to attract more tourists to Gaia in the meantime. How are things working out at your end?"

"Problematic," said Montesse. "We've been having difficulty replacing Dr. Eisenhart. His loss was certainly a tragic one. But nevertheless, the old fool's own fault. One understands the predicament, but we're proceeding as scheduled. It should be ready soon."

"And our contacts?" asked Simmons.

"They're very agreeable," replied Montesse curtly. "I'm more concerned about your end, however, Simmons. Your television special is quite dull."

Simmons winced. He didn't like this "Montesse" guy. Despite denying it before others, Simmons was a control freak. With these people around him, he felt a lack of control. In fact, he felt too controlled...too vulnerable. At least the man could give him a name or something instead of using that stupid sounding codename that he had told him about a long while ago.

Montesse. Quite the character.

"I'll be off, have a few matters to attend to," said Montesse. "Be on schedule, Simmons."

Simmons nodded. "No worries, it'll be ready for you when you need it."

Simmons shut off the holophone and deactivated the black box. Time to hit the press, he thought. Tossing the box aside, Simmons straightened his tie, took a swig of rum from a bottle nearby, and strode out to face his next challenge.

There was a barely audible click.

"Alice, this isn't a good idea."

A slightly louder click.

"Alice, are you even listening to me? You realize that if you get caught with this crap, it's going to more or less shove a F-Bomb up your life's ass."

Alice groaned. Yuri could be so blunt sometimes, without even knowing. She pushed a button on her small wireless headset. "Yeah, Yuri, I know. Now, aren't you supposed to be asking the guy questions?"

"Well," began Yuri from the other end of the line, "I dunno if I can do it."

Another click. Alice grimaced. "What the hell do you mean?"

"It's just that I've never done this before," said Yuri. "I've only seen you do it, and I don't know if I can just like..."

"Just like what?" asked Alice. The lockpicking was proving more difficult than she had anticipated. Jo glanced around her shoulder to see if anyone was coming. Fortunately for her, Brandon Simmons' private trailer was relatively secluded from the rest of the Viridian Alliance encampment.

"Damn," cursed Yuri. "I'll do it. You just get the hell outta there fast, Alice March."

Alice smiled. Her cameraman, Yuri, was probably one of the most dependable people in the world, even if that dependable nature only surfaced after hours of protestation and complaint. Finally, a sharp hollow click. Alice gave the door a gentle shove, and it gave. Simmons' trailer was certain more spacious and roomy than some of the other trailers she had conducted interviews in. Simmons had more or less declined any and all opportunities for private interviews, choosing to hold a public address.

"Alice," her editor had asked. "Just go to the address. Ask a few questions like any other little girl, and see what happens. They're an environmental lobbyist group, for God's sake...what the hell do they have to hide?"

"Look, they have ties to the Gaians, and even the LWB in Rheinland," Alice had said. "This could be huge."

"Could be. Could be huge. Could be doesn't cut it, Alice," her editor had replied. "Regardless of how much bull they throw at you, without facts, there's nothing to prove."

Alice was not going to be covering Simmons' address today. She was going to hunt and track down those facts her editor were so hungry for. Her cameraman, Yuri Michaels, was going to stand in her place for her. She didn't care about Yuri's earlier warning. Life is there for one to live, thought Alice. And hell, she was going to make her's a good run. Scanning Simmons' trailer, something caught her eye.

Yuri Michaels took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

"Press pass," demanded a bald, stocky security guard.

"My name is Yuri Michaels, and I'm act..."

Before Yuri could finish, the guard interrupted him. "Press pass."

"Look, just let me finish," said Yuri. "I'm..."

"Without a press pass, I can't let you in," interrupted the security guard again.

Yuri glanced at his watch. He was exasperated by now. He held up his camera. "Look, buddy. I'm trying to be nice here. But if you want me to go back to my editors at the Cambridge Geographic Society and say that some stupid guard without a college degree named..."

Yuri leaned forward to look at the guard's name tag. "...Menard, I'll gladly go do it. We're one of Mr. Simmons' most active contributors, and the folks back home are not going to like what happened here today."

The security guard grimaced. "Get in there."

Yuri shouldered his equipment and nodded. "Thank you."

The session had not begun yet. Using his equipment as a de facto indication that he was press, Yuri skimmed through the crowds of people with the help of a few ushers who were assisting the press get to the front of the area. Yuri set up his equipment, took a seat, checked his watch, and prayed that nothing bad would happen to Alice.

"Roger Deegan?" said Alice, looking outside the windows of Simmons' trailer. "Do you remember me? Alice March, we met at the Crown Breeker two months ago."

"Uh," said a voice at the other end of the line. "Yeah, right, Alice March. How can I forget?"

She moved away from the blinds. No one was coming yet. "No, I was actually wondering if there was any way you could actually get data off a signal jammer."

There was silence at the other end of the line.

Roger Deegan cursed. He was getting used, again, just like last time. Of course, it would probably result in him taking her out to dinner at some high-class restaurant and then face the wrath of the check at the end of the night. He remembered Alice March. The perky, pretty little strawberry blonde reporter that managed to make every single one of her interviewees swoon and throw everything at her feet.

Deegan considered the issue for a minute before continuing. "Maybe."

Roger Deegan was what the Liberty Navy addressed as "flotsam." Graduating from Douglas College on Planet Los Angeles, Deegan was at the top of his class, majoring in Computational Biology. Originally intending to join up with the CRI in Cambridge, Deegan was spotted and picked out by the Office of Naval Intelligence. Within a few years, he was already Division Head of SIGINT, ONI's department responsible for intercepting and decoding foreign signal transmissions. Harnessing the great computational power of a massive, 10 Ton, 4-Story tall mainframe affectionately named, "Big Steel," Deegan and his team - dubbed "the Leet Crew" by their peers - cracked codes ranging from private transmissions between Senators and their mistresses to Rheinland fleet movements.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Deegan would become the next head of ONI.

That is, until he got his first taste of it.

It was amazing. His calculations sped up tenfold. He began to crack codes that no one had ever thought of even touching. The patterns - he simply saw them light up, and all he did was connect the dots.

But soon, he needed more, and more.

Unfortunately for Deegan, cardamine addiction was not exactly easy to hide, especially with the Navy cautiously inspecting all their codebreakers in order to make sure that no unnecessary interrogative tools could be implemented should one of their agents be captured. When a potential weakness in one of their top operatives was found, there was nothing the Navy could do but let Deegan go.

He was simply too much of a liability.

Deegan never stopped, however. His life was his work, and if his work revolved around the orange angel, he would keep it coming with whatever money he could bring in.

So for the past four years, Deegan worked against the people that he had once helped, starting his own firm, called Aegis Security Systems. Taking his expertise, Deegan now worked to make sure that SIGINT's "Big Steel" would not be peering into people's personal files and transmissions. With nearly the entire Liberty Congress as his clientele, along with other rich and wealthy persons, Deegan now comfortably lived in a penthouse suite in the Keaton Tower on Planet Manhattan, a residence that even the Duke of Montgomery from Bretonia could not outbid Deegan for.

Deegan smiled. Maybe he would be able to impress the girl with his vast wealth and power now, he thought. "Listen, Alice, why don't you drop by my place later in the week, and we can talk about it over some 686 Port?"

There was silence at the other end of the line. Deegan swore that he heard a sigh.

"Look, this is really big," said Alice. "And I need to know now. Can it be done?"

Deegan scowled. "Yeah, it can. Bring it over, and we'll see what we can do with it."

"Thanks, Roger," said Alice, "I'll see if I can get it out."

"What, you can't move it or something?" asked Deegan.

Alice checked outside the windows again. Nothing. "It's not that, it's just that I've broken into someone's...office, and if I just took it, someone would notice that it was gone."

"How much battery do you have left in your phone?" asked Deegan. "If you have a wireless adapter program enabled, you can feed the contents of the jammer over to me."

"But how am I going to connect to the jammer?" asked Alice.

"What does it look like?" asked Deegan.

"Black box, cubish. Dull, kinda metallic, or someth...," began Alice.

"Remworth X-10G9. That's magnesium, kiddo," muttered Deegan, interrupting. "Alright, have your phone search for nearby wireless devices. When you do, connect to the Remworth, and go to file transfer. Select from Device to Device, and under Target Device, put in my number. Voila, and you just wait."

"That's it?" asked Alice.

"That's it," replied Deegan, opening a fresh bottle of 686 Port. "Why, seem too easy?"

"Um, yeah," said Alice.

"Well, the upload isn't the difficult part. The decoding is," said Deegan. "Any buffoon can just upload the files, but not everyone can just pop them into a computer and start listening in. You have scrambled digital code in there in the forms of zeroes and ones, you have to unscramble those, covert it into corrupted digital signals, restore them, convert them to audio files, edit the audio files so that they're actually audible, then listen."

"Oh, heh, well I'm glad I came to you," said Alice, setting the phone down on the couch to let it begin uploading the information.

"Make sure you stop by for some Port though," said Deegan, cracking open a pill of cardamine and dumping the orangish-yellow powder into his wine. "It's delicious."

Deegan didn't receive an answer, however, as the line went dead.

Alice removed her wireless headset, and placed the phone and jammer underneath Simmons' couch. Through a thin crack in the blinds, Alice saw a stocky, heavy-set, bald man walk towards the trailer at a terrifying pace.