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About as well as can be expected.
No, and he won't. It would be too cold blooded for him.
So, what exactly is Kara's deal, anyway? She's got this whole "manic pixie dream girl" thing going on and she reminds me a lot of Bart Allen/Impulse from the comics, but I'm not a die-hard Supergirl fan, so I'm not sure if this is normal for her or if there's something off about her.
About as well as can be expected.
No, and he won't. It would be too cold blooded for him.
She's from an Earth that, from the standpoint of comics, never went past the Silver Age. Thus, her behavior is entirely in line with Silver Age norms.
It's when compared to the 'modern' viewpoint of almost everyone else that she comes across as hyperactively off.
I'm not sure I agree. What you're saying is what the story tried to get us to believe at first, but Zoat has been carefully showing us increasing oddities in her behavior. I think it's on purpose, and there's something more going on that he's slowly feeding us clues about.
We don't really know anything about this Supergirl or how she got here. She just showed up in the middle of a bunch of other Supergirls whose story we do know... like they were providing camouflage for her, almost. How exactly did "Silver Age Supergirl" get here? Why hasn't she expressed more concerns about going home? Questions that no one is asking very hard.
The first thing I see is the swarm of ghoul dogs trotting into the room. They're small animals and normally I wouldn't see them as threatening, but the lack of fur, peeling skin and the odd look of their ghoulified eyes makes them more disturbing than I thought they'd be
"her well"
Thank you, corrected.
His brows raise by about half a centimetre. "My word."
I bow my head slightly. "Quite."
Heh. His chosen alias ending up being a bit of a penalty in certain circles, eh? Especially if the fictional Krono was a bit of a villain or anti-hero. No doubt some of them are wondering if he's going to have an outbreak of face-punching at any moment...7th December 2282
09:32 GMT
"…as 'Your Majesty' the first time, but subsequently she should be addressed as 'ma'am'. Similarly, as you have been acknowledged as the New California Republic's ambassador, she will refer to you as 'Your Excellency' during the initial introduction, and as 'Mister Kr-'."
The Personal Secretary giving me the remedial etiquette lecture pauses in his rote spiel.
"I apologise if this is a personal question, but is 'Krono' really your name? I can well understand an agent-at-large using a nom de guerre, but this is an official meeting."
Just a bit of natural wear and tear, mostly, then. No doubt all the old artwork and decorations got cleaned out back during the wars to keep it all safe.I find myself looking around the room. The palace itself is in fairly good repair, paper and paint replaced or being replaced where age had damaged it. The upholstery is worn in places but I can see where furniture had been added recently too. Some things… Well, we don't have any native natural cotton or silk production, but wool is plentiful and nylon shouldn't be that hard to put back into production. And if you can't keep the palace looking nice then your civilisation is in big trouble.
And with a description like that, I can picture the disdain projected in his face...I return my attention to the Personal Secretary. "It's-. I had it legally changed. My original name was different, but I…" I waggle my right hand vaguely at the side of my head. "I can't say it anymore. Does Her Majesty read comics?"
"I do not believe so, but your meeting will be recorded for obvious reasons, and some of those who watch it will." He give me a look such as an indulgent dog owner might give an incontinent puppy. "Why on Earth did you select that for your new name?"
'Out of the mouths of babes' and all that. Honestly, he's lucky the kid named a superhero and not some popular kiddy hero..."I was trying to integrate into a tribal group and I didn't know their naming customs. I asked a small child what he thought was a good name, and… Here I am."
His brows raise by about half a centimetre. "My word."
Because the English monarchy love their pets.I bow my head slightly. "Quite."
"Well. The Gentry won't mind and the citizenry most likely won't remember. So I think that's everything-. Ah. Except the dogs."
They didn't mutate into Deathclaws or something, did they?"Dogs? Oh, Queen Elizabeth the Second had a pack of corgis. Does Queen Elizabeth the Third maintain the tradition?"
"Yes, the Queen's dogs have been her companions for a… Long time. They also underwent the… Change, you understand?"
...And now I'm picturing the hulk dogs from that Hulk movie.Ghoul corgis? Huh. I suppose… Really, it's more strange that there aren't ghouls of other species than that there are.
"Canis familiaris ardens?"
Let's hope they aren't prone to nibbling on people."Just so."
I nod. "Are there any behavioural quirks I should be aware of, or should I just treat them like normal dogs?"
Wonder if their intelligence improved any. That might be an interesting angle to see..."Without… Fur, they don't respond quite so well to being stroked, but they'll still sniff you and otherwise engage in typical dog behaviours."
"Alright." I nod. "I think I'm up to speed. Please let Her Majesty know that I await her pleasure."
I'm not surprised, especially if your closest neighbour hates your guts.He hesitates for a moment, reviewing me.
"I suppose it works for a trial run. We're a little out of practice at receiving foreign dignitaries."
Kind of impressive after this long. But I suppose he might prefer to be the 'I actually work for a living' kind of soldier...He takes a deep breath, sighs, then turns and walks out of the room. I can track him telepathically if I have to, but I think it's best to let things play out without exotic effort. Instead, I turn to Peter.
"So, you're a sergeant."
After all, rank may have its privileges, but it also has responsibilities he might not care to take up.He looks at me as if I just said something stupid. "Yes?"
"I was wondering how promotions work in the Life Guard, given that you're all two hundred year veterans. I mean, Lieutenant Roper is a lieutenant, and I assume that he's got the same level of experience that you do."
Unsurprising. You know some right rupert would try it just to put 'the lads' in their place."Promotions fill gaps only. Honestly, at this point most of us could do the job of junior officers. And junior officers could probably do the work of senior officers. When we work with the Tommies-. With the regular army, you know, we get attached to headquarters so some child with a tenth of our experience at best doesn't try giving us orders."
By his lofty standards, that's high praise indeed."And recruitment?"
He shrugs. "We've had other Simons join up. People who weren't in the military before the Resource Wars. At the point there's not much difference. And a few who turned later. We weren't sure about them, but they did alright."
Of course not, what with their 'music with rocks in' and their silly dancing and their dodgy haircuts... Talk about a generation gap..."Thanks, Sarge."
"Quiet in the ranks." He shakes his head. "But really, you've either got two hundred years of life experience or you haven't. I've been in charge of 'young people' before, but we just don't gel."
Would be interesting to see the results. Get some proper British discipline into the Yankees."Would you consider recruiting American Simons?"
"Why?" He frowns. "Don't they have better things to do?"
Very quick on the uptake, isn't he? Joy of that 200 years of experience."Some do, but others… Have trouble dealing with their situation, mentally. And… In a lot of places they're not well regarded."
"Why?" He thinks for a moment. "Oh. Because America had more survivors. They don't need Simons for the pre-War skills like Britain does."
...Yeah, that sounds like a troublesome thing."Partially that, and partially because a far greater proportion have mental breakdowns. And I haven't seen a glowing one since I arrived, so I assume that you don't have those."
"What's that, then?"
"A glowing one is a Simon who's absorbed enough radioactive material that they glow green and irradiate anyone near them. It acts as a bit of a pick-me-up for other Simons but is pretty dangerous for everyone else."
Honestly, the whole 'radioactive stuff glows yellow-green' is a strange trope. If anything, it should be blue.He stares at me in puzzlement. "They glow.. green..? What-?"
The double doors at the end of the room open, and-.
Probably as odd to see as a Sphynx cat. Except a little chubbier..."Ruff."
The first thing I see is the swarm of ghoul dogs trotting into the room. They're small animals and normally I wouldn't see them as threatening, but the lack of fur, peeling skin and the odd look of their ghoulified eyes makes them more disturbing than I thought they'd be. With human ghouls, you can usually tell from their behaviour whether they're compos mentis or not. But with animals?
Ah, yes, the protocols of meeting a reigning monarch. Probably needing to be a little more cautious, especially if the lady isn't stable. Don't want her snapping at an offered hand or something like that.My eyes pass over the two Life Guard leading the Queen's party. If she's the one keeping the realm together it makes sense that she'd need an escort at all times. I'm not sure how commonly available guns are here compared to back home, but that's only sensible. Then the Personal Secretary, holding out his right hand to indicate me to-.
Heh. He's being weighed and judged. Probably summed up as 'Poor lad's gone native, hasn't he? Bloody Americans.'A short ghoul woman, slightly stooped, wearing a blue jacket over a cream dress. Permed white hair sticks out slightly from underneath a blue hat. Her skin looks relatively healthy for a ghoul, missing nose notwithstanding, and there's a bit more of a spark in her eyes than in most ghouls I've seen. And those eyes narrow a little as Queen Elizabeth III takes me in in return.
Would have been amusing if she'd responded with 'What, the comic book character? Bloody 'ell.'I bow as I was instructed as she and her Personal Secretary approach.
"This is Ambassador Krono, ma'am. From California."
Well, at least she's all there for the moment."A pleasure, Your Majesty."
"The pleasure is all mine, You Excellency."
A bit reluctant to do the 'bow and kiss the hand' thing, Krono? Understandable.Oh. I take her hand for a moment as protocol directs, but-.
"Is something the miss, young man?"
Yes, all those rather sharp teeth on display... Most people would likely be sweating a little right now."No ma'am. Ah, for a moment I was-. Surprised, by how greatly you resemble your namesake, Queen Elizabeth the Second. You even sound like her."
She smiles, not an inherently pleasant visual display in a ghoul, but a psychologically reassuring one as it indicates that there's still a sense of self in there.
Honestly, she stepped up after her father's passing. And set a few records in the process."I think that I shall take that as a great compliment." I can feel the corgiswarm pressing noses into my legs, but it's such a dog thing to so that it's reassuring as well. "I'm an admirer of my great grandmother."
I nod. "She was a great woman. I-. I mean no offence, but I honestly struggle to imagine the country without her."
Say what you will about her, but the Queen did her job well..."Oh? Did you know her well?"
"No, not at all. But I do know a few stories, if you're interested?"
Thank you, corrected.
The Queen's whole posture changes, hunching over, mouth distended and teeth bared! A woman who was chuckling merrily a moment ago has now-. Ghouls don't go feral that quickly! That's not how it works!
"EEEEeeeeeeeeee!" / "Rauw!" / "Har-rauw!"
And the corgis are looking decidedly less friendly, teeth bared and prepared to charge!
This is particularly interesting, because Fallout Universe diverges from ours by never developing semiconductor transistors until just before the Great War. This is nuclear weapons grade tech deal here.
That fallible human memory again. Still, if you've got her giggling like a schoolgirl, I think you're in her good graces. Still, sooner or later, you're going to have to get down to business and broach the issue of her stability. Even a light surface scan.7th December 2282
09:39 GMT
"…ashen-faced minister frantically apologises. Then the Queen leans forwards and says… 'I do hope it wasn't anyone important, dear'."
In front of me, her great granddaughter starts giggling. And I really hope that she's sufficiently entertained because I don't have that many Queen Elizabeth II stories and I've already done the tourist photography one and the photobomb one.
Quite a bit of stress. Honestly, her willpower is quite impressive if she's still mostly functional after all that.I take the opportunity to have a quick look inside her head, but… Great War era ghouls are never entirely mentally healthy-. Even compared to normal wastelanders. The human brain is simply designed to work within the confines of a small tight-knit hunter gatherer community, and taking it outside of that result in problems. Two hundred years of being in charge of a badly broken country following the violent deaths of her parents, aunt, uncle and cousins… That does damage. Similarly, the obvious damage to her face -particularly her nose- that comes with being a ghoul greets her in the mirror every morning. The human brain knows what a healthy face looks like.
And people didn't really expect her to be impish or pixieish that way, given her very British public persona."However did you find out?"
"Years later, after the minister in question left office, she told the world about it in an interview. She was still embarrassed, but she was grateful that the Queen had just made a joke of it."
That's what happens when the engine of government collapses due to being nuked, I suppose. America got around it by simply shattering into manageable bits. England probably doesn't have that option, given its size.And then there's the fact that she's been doing the same sort of thing for two hundred years. I'm not completely convinced that changing jobs every decade or so is the trick to remaining sane, but some range of stimuli would certainly be helpful. But that's not.. really something that I can help with. I'd be happy to set up a state visit to Texas or California, but she is actually needed here, overseeing the upper levels of the British government. She's a good deal more hands on that her great grandmother, but… She has to be. It's not a titular head of state usurping power from an elected body, it's the lynchpin using the power that's hers usually in theory to keep the nation functioning.
Heh. Tempted to compare her to the real-life princesses, but this is a different universe, and the entire history of the line could be very different,She glances at Personal Secretary, who gives a small shrug.
"You wouldn't have any more stories about her, would you? I barely knew her, and I could only learn so much from my Uncle William's stories."
Oh, ho... Little did they know she was trained as a driver in the Auxiliary Territorial Service, equivalent of the National Guard or Australia's Army Reserves..."Only one, really. One of the official duties of the royal family was entertaining foreign dignitaries. Queen Elizabeth the Second was particularly good at charming foreign heads of state, so the foreign office sometimes asked her to step in when they were out of ideas. So on one occasion they ended up with her, Prince Philip and a group of foreign aristocrats at Balmoral, and the Queen… Who must have been in her sixties or seventies at that point… She asks one of the younger members of their group if he'd like to go for a drive around the estate. Well, naturally he's honoured, so he says 'yes', assuming that she'll call over a chauffeur and conduct the tour herself."
And quite likely did every once in a while. Just to keep her hand in, you know."But she doesn't. Instead, she walks over to a Land Rover and gets into the driver's seat. He's a bit surprised by that, and looks around to see if anyone else is reacting to it, but no one is, so… Not wanted to look like a total bore, he gets into the passenger seat. She's the Queen, in her country on her estate. If she wants to drive herself, she can drive herself."
Ah, yes, the face of a man feeling the hand of the Goddess of Acceleration pressing upon him."At which point the Queen slams her foot on the accelerator and hares off down the road like a bat out of hell, and his face is like,-"
I grimace, eyes staring widely in front of me.
...Wishing he had a change of trousers? I can't imagine playing passenger for an impromptu rally session would be anything less than terrifying."-and she starts conducting the tour while looking at him and speaking in a calm and conversational tone while driving around at top speed because she learned to drive on those roads and has been driving on them for fifty years. She doesn't need to watch where she's going because she's memorised the whole thing, but he doesn't know that and so he's squeezing the armrests as tightly as he can, clearly terrified, but he can't quite bring himself to ask her to slow down. He endures the whole thing, not able to focus on anything she's saying, and when they get back to the manor he's left there, sitting in the seat and-"
I can just imagine.I take the pose again, this time adding frantic panting.
"-trying to recover."
Probably covering it with a polite comment about 'recovering from his lovely close-up view of the countryside,'Queen Elizabeth III starts chuckling again. "And what did she say to him?"
I shake my head. "I'm afraid that I don't know. If I had to guess, she would probably have noticed that he was in a bit of a state and suggested that everyone give him a moment to pull himself together."
Honestly, would have been nice to have a second person doing the mental probing. Pity he went off on his own on this.I can feel it as something stirs deep in her memories. It's a positive association, but so fleeting that I can't get a good look at it. I could dive in after it, but I'm not good at splitting my attention to do things like that while keeping up my end of a conversation.
"What country was he from?"
Ah... If I remember the history dump he gave, the Saudi's were partly responsible for some of the European conflicts, yes?"Saudi Arabia, I think. The Queen got on well with their royal family due to their shared love of horses. That was the other reason he was surprised she was driving; in their country-"
Something's… Wrong. Their minds-. I don't know what-.
Ooh, anyone else would probably need a lozenge after that kind of throat-clearing...
...Don't tell me, the dogs have some low-level link to her and if she's agitated...The Queen's whole posture changes, hunching over, mouth distended and teeth bared! A woman who was chuckling merrily a moment ago has now-. Ghouls don't go feral that quickly! That's not how it works!
"EEEEeeeeeeeeee!" / "Rauw!" / "Har-rauw!"
...They're agitated. And likely to be aggressive. And don't be fooled, Corgi's can be just as aggressive as bigger dogs when pushed.And the corgis are looking decidedly less friendly, teeth bared and prepared to charge!
"Ah?"
And if worst comes to worst, you could maybe levitate up to the ceiling? I doubt she'd be that powerful enough to leap up that high, given the quite high ceilings in the palace.I make momentary eye contact with the Personal Secretary as he shepherds the Life Guards out of the room and closes the.. doors.
Okay, my body armour isn't good enough to protect me from frenzied ghoul bites indefinitely. My inertia suppression field will help, but biting and dragging tends to drain the battery. And using it will show that I have it. Plus I don't.. seem to have triggered whatever it is that would make the Queen attack yet and the corgis are following her lead.
Ah, they're worried they might have to explain to the Americans that their Ambassador got eaten by the Queen and her dogs? Not that they'd frame it so directly...I reach out mentally for the Personal Secretary-.
"…mentioned the Saudis. I know. We might be able to reach them on long wave radio. … Well, we'll have to. This isn't an uppity newsagent. If the Californians can make aircraft-."
Well, kind of a blessing that she doesn't remember the details. Though I bet she has suspicions about what happened to whoever triggered an event.And I get the thought associated with the words. The events concerning the start of the Resource War traumatised the Queen, and when someone brings them up-. She's killed people before, and they cover it up for the good of the nation. The mental images-. She blanks the whole thing after it happens.
Besides, that may upset them a little.Okay, but those doors aren't that thick. I should be able to break through with telekinesis and brute FEV-augmented strength. She'll pursue me, and… What happens when they restrain-? They've lost guards doing that before, and it takes a long time for her to come around. Workable for me, but hardly ideal.
Let's not go for a literal cooldown hug, but a soothing mental wavelength might manage it?Right. Scan the corgis-. The corgis are just picking up the stress from their mistress. That, and they've learned that when this happens they're supposed to attack. The Queen is still waiting for the pounce trigger. I could grab her telekinetically, but that would probably trigger her to attack and the corgis will almost certainly notice. The Queen isn't feral, she's traumatised, which means that her current mental state isn't normal. Telepathic intrusion doesn't have the best success rate for curing mental illness but I should be able to switch her from one mental state to another, especially knowing what the trigger is. Reach out…
Some very defined survival instincts, it seems.Agh, it's like she's having some sort of seizure! My own pulse and respiration rates start to increase in sympathy, and-. No, no, stop those pulses because something is detecting what I'm doing and sending attack signals. Quieten that part down because it seems to be where they're coming-.
Very well-defined.
...Yes, Prince Phillip was a bit of an upper-class Twit. But the British knew that and forgave him for his occasional gaffe.Okay, that positive feeling I felt earlier, where is..? There, but forcing it is probably going to cause another stroke, so… Ah, auditory cortex connection is there…
"Of course, your great grandfather had a substantially cruder sense of humour." Attack impulse suppressed, keep trying to connect via the auditory cortex. "Once, when visiting some British students in China, he warned them that if they stayed too long they'd end up with slitty eyes."
Probably the first time she's come out of one of these without a group of guards around... Plus that lovely short-term amnesia.A tiny pulse of recognition in the auditory cortex, connecting to memories and emotions-. There! Grab it, connect the positive feeling and push down on the feral impulses..!
"Oh." The Queen blinks, straightening up as the corgis look around in confusion. "I'm sorry, I seem to have lost-." She looks around. "Where have all the guards wandered off to?"
Sadly, they can't natter all day about her long-lost family."I think they ate something that didn't agree with them. Probably be a queue for the toilets a mile long, poor chaps. So, um, look, I'd love to reminisce more about your great grandmother, but I am supposed to be on the job."
"Hm?" She hasn't quite come fully out of it, but… Mental nudge there. "Oh. Oh yes, I quite understand. It's all go, sometimes."
Well, now. That is quite the game-changer. Even if they're only at eighties-tier level of complexity, that's still quite an increase in processing power, even with American micro-tube or simple transistor computers. And if they've progressed as far as 16-bit? Watch out!I nod. "I'll be happy to report to the President that Britain is recovering, but I imagine that he's going to be interested in trade: exchanges of technology or resources. So I'm going to need a list of things that Britain wants, and what if can offer in exchange."
"To be honest, we need all manner of things. As to what we can offer…" She frowns for a moment, then nods to herself. "Tell me, young man: do you know what a 'transistor' is?"
Yup, and it was high level US only government stuff.This is particularly interesting, because Fallout Universe diverges from ours by never developing semiconductor transistors until just before the Great War. This is nuclear weapons grade tech deal here.
The quirk: licenses are issued in the name of the monarch.I wonder if Paul regaled her with the fact the Queen didn't have a licence because of some quirk of the legal code.
'Forgave'? No, he was great. It was like having a real-life comedy character as prince-consort!...Yes, Prince Phillip was a bit of an upper-class Twit. But the British knew that and forgave him for his occasional gaffe.
This is particularly interesting, because Fallout Universe diverges from ours by never developing semiconductor transistors until just before the Great War. This is nuclear weapons grade tech deal here.
This is immensely pervasive and wrong fanon, likely because it was on the wiki for a long time before people noticed that there was no actual source for this nonsense.Yup, and it was high level US only government stuff.
Do the only way she should know about it is of she's connected to the Enclave.
The quirk: licenses are issued in the name of the monarch.
Similarly, Charles doesn't need one, as king.
I do wonder if he had one before, and they just tore it up. Or asked him to return it.
Also, he doesn't need a license plate or passport, for exactly the same reason.
A British passport is literally a statement from the government in the monarch's name that the person with this document is who they say they is and are allowed to leave the country.Wait, but don't you need to present your passport when arriving in another country?
A British passport is literally a statement from the government in the monarch's name that the person with this document is who they say they is and are allowed to leave the country.
So the monarch does not need to present a passport because them saying "yo it me" is a passport.
I'll be honest, I literally cannot imagine a situation where that would happen without the monarch also traveling under an assumed identity, in which case they would have a passport for the false identity.