08-03-2013, 03:24 PM
Krasivolkya was standing at the window when Mrs. Florsheim opened the door and led the non-descript woman in. Krasivolkya cut her eyes slightly to view her visitor.
"If she cared more, she might be beautiful," Krasivolkya thought as she took in the measure of the woman in front of her.
Krasivolkya turned to look out her window, these were a luxury inside the ancient fortress. Since she had one, she felt the need to bring attention to that fact whenever she had visitors, especially military visitors. Things usually went much better when people knew who led, and who was expected to follow. Krasivolkya ALWAYS liked being the lead.
She gazed up and down once before turning and approaching her guest.
"Dr. Weston," she said as she held out her hand, "I am Chief Liaison for the Custody of State, Krasivolkya Constantine."
The other woman took her hand in a firm grip. Krasivolkya did not let show her surprise at the doctor's strength. She simply made her grip a little tighter, and rolled the lower joint of her thumb into the woman's palm ... a trick she had learned to hit on a pressure point and give the appearance of a stronger grip, as well as usually caused the other person to lessen theirs. It worked, the military doctor's hand relaxed just a bit, and Krasivolkya gave one solid squeeze before releasing the hand altogether.
"Won't you sit?", she gestured to one of her guest chairs in front of her desk, diagonally placed from where Mrs. Florsheim sat at her own desk.
Dr. Weston sat, and Krasivolkya chose to sit in the one next to her, rather than behind her desk. Over the doctor's shoulder, Krasivolkya saw her secretary's eyebrow rise ever so slightly as she did.
"I have been assigned to you personally Dr. Weston. I will be your point of contact during your time in The Kremlin, and while you are working on this project. I am here to serve, guide and inform. My staff is at your disposal if you need to know certain specifics, or need additional information. I will coordinate your visits, in and out of The Kremlin, as well as any other access you might need to other officials while you are working here. Do you have any questions?"
She barely gave the woman a moment to shake her head in the negative before she went on.
"I have a dossier here on our internal information on The Faculty," and she held up a small microchip with the tip of her ring finger and thumb. "May I?"
Dr. Victoria Weston was non-plussed in her response, she was not easily intimidated despite her outward naïve appearance. Krasivolkya could *tell* the woman was confident and not easily rattled. Almost like a Jay when confronted with a wolf. The Jay is not bothered, she knows she is untouchable by the Wolf.
Krasivolkya held the woman's wrist and gently, but firmly placed the microchip on her smooth skin, delicately pressing the corner slightly into her arm. This action triggered the programmed response from the microchip, microscopic prongs attached itself to Dr. Weston. It could easily be scanned now from any ordinary computer, and with her top secret access code, the good doctor could access the information. However, should someone without the code access it, or should it be removed, it's internal circuitry would melt and destroy all information inside. These were the most secure and disposable memory storage advices available.
Dr. Weston was slightly bothered, annoyed or put-off, Krasivolkya confirmed to herself. She, as usual, seemed to *know* the other person's mood. Krasivolkya caught herself involuntarily flaring her nostrils expecting something ... she did not know what, and was not getting any hints from her visitor either.
Krasivolkya grimaced, ever so slightly before recovering her composure. "How stange," she thought, then grabbed the small wireless scanner from her desk and held its infrared beam at the chip. Her computer awoke from its inactive state, and with her voice command, Krasivolkya turned the monitor display, then verbally walked through the steps to access the files embedded in Victoria Weston's arm.
She didn't bother to ask Victoria for her Security code, instead, she entered her own. One more subtle indication of who led here.
A series of images flashed on the screen in a rotating order, a text box available for expanded information if needed by the reviewer.
Krasivolkya had used the hour before Dr. Weston's arrival to memorize the content of each image, so as not to need to break her stride in the presentation. Professionalism and distinct politeness were evident in her tone.
"The Facility is State of the Art and all but unknown save for only very few members of the CCD government. You and I are part of a very small circle, Dr. Weston.
The Ascendency created and personally facilitates funding for The Facility directly. He is committed to using it to find a cure for The Sickness. All patients have volunteered to be a part of the cutting edge research being conducted. Their families do not know the details of their treatment or care, only that they are being sent to a new Medical Research Hospital, that might be their only chance for survival.
No expense was spared by The Ascendency, and The Facility is staffed 24/7.
Your current project will be accommodated by The Facility staff, anything beyond that, you should utilize me to provide for you."
Krasivolkya turned to watch the images rotate another round before continuing.
A long, brightly lit tunnel with glass doors lining one side.
Sterile, clinical, yet not uncomfortable dormitories with various patients sitting or lying in bed as Doctors stood around them.
A lab where a team of research professionals examined information and test results on various virtual tablets that cluttered the table.
Vials of samples of bodily fluids rested in a beaker stand, while a masked female doctor examines one in particular.
A common room, swashed in a sea of white and ecru showed patients discussing information with Facility staff, a virtual tablet between them.
A recreation room showed men and women on treadmills and Pilates balls, while Facility Staff looked on, and took notes.
There were no windows in any of the pictures.
"The Ascendency is committed to finding a cure for this plague ravaging young men and women the world over. He is convinced the benevolence of the CCD can provide the WHO with hence unknown findings to help them make progress in eradicating this disease and stalling this pandemic. The Facility is his gift to the world. One more of many he has already bestowed.
"The Facility functions completely independent of any other Custody or organization. It operates it's own power grid, water supply and hydroponic farm.
--Images of an inside garden, while workers in white coveralls harvested vegetables flashed in front of the two women.
The Pharmaceutical lab at The Facility creates and provide all medication needed for patients and research.--
"Staff are assigned to The Facility in one-year, renewable terms. They agree to live there to make the most of the research being done, and avoid time lost from traveling, or socializing outside of work.
"The Ascendency is determined to find a cure and expects The Facility and it's staff to be as dedicated to that goal as he is.
"You, while having access to all this, as you know, will not be an assigned Facility staffer. You may come and go as your needs and project dictate."
The corresponding images appeared on cue with Krasivolkya's information.
"I hope I have conveyed to you the seriousness and protectiveness with which The Ascendency holds The Facility. Your work here, though temporary, could have long-ranging effects for all of humanity. Such is the honor of working for The Ascendency and the CCD."
Krasivolkya stopped talking in a crisp moment as the screen also went blank, then flashed to her protective screen saver of the Seal and Symbol of the CCD.
She stared down at Dr. Weston as she stood. The doctor had not uttered a word or sound during the presentation. Krasivolkya would have bet she wanted to open her mouth and take a breath, but she was resisting the urge. Krasivolkya began speaking as she made her away around her desk and began gathering items into her brief case, including the leather attaché that had contained this current assignment.
"Again, I will be your go-to during your project for any additional information or interaction with government staff or officials. If you need clearance; you call me. If you need background on another project, department, Custody, or person; you call me. If you need transportation to or from your assignment; you call me. If another government official wants to be updated on your project; you call me. If you need a sabbatical one night or weekend; you call me. And finally, if there is anything out of the ordinary, if staff are not responding like the medical staff you have become accustomed to working with, if you are getting pressure to do or find something BEYOND the scope of your project; you call me. If that is clear, we can leave to go on our tour now. Unless, that is, you have any questions?"
Krasivolkya turned her head to look at Dr. Weston. Her eyes did not show warmth. Her tone was clipped but polite. She had maintained composure and as with all her successful assignments took charge immediately and laid the groundwork for a successful exchange and working relationship. When you were a liaison, you quickly learned most people didn't quite know exactly what they wanted or needed. It was partly your job to make sure you told them what they needed, so as to cement the impression you were anticipating their needs. It was slight of hand, and Krasivolkya was a Master Illusionist. The scent of slight awe, respect and gratitude seemed to waft off the young doctor.
Krasivolkya knew she had done her job. She waited for the woman to respond.
Edited by Krasivolkya, Aug 3 2013, 03:35 PM.
"If she cared more, she might be beautiful," Krasivolkya thought as she took in the measure of the woman in front of her.
Krasivolkya turned to look out her window, these were a luxury inside the ancient fortress. Since she had one, she felt the need to bring attention to that fact whenever she had visitors, especially military visitors. Things usually went much better when people knew who led, and who was expected to follow. Krasivolkya ALWAYS liked being the lead.
She gazed up and down once before turning and approaching her guest.
"Dr. Weston," she said as she held out her hand, "I am Chief Liaison for the Custody of State, Krasivolkya Constantine."
The other woman took her hand in a firm grip. Krasivolkya did not let show her surprise at the doctor's strength. She simply made her grip a little tighter, and rolled the lower joint of her thumb into the woman's palm ... a trick she had learned to hit on a pressure point and give the appearance of a stronger grip, as well as usually caused the other person to lessen theirs. It worked, the military doctor's hand relaxed just a bit, and Krasivolkya gave one solid squeeze before releasing the hand altogether.
"Won't you sit?", she gestured to one of her guest chairs in front of her desk, diagonally placed from where Mrs. Florsheim sat at her own desk.
Dr. Weston sat, and Krasivolkya chose to sit in the one next to her, rather than behind her desk. Over the doctor's shoulder, Krasivolkya saw her secretary's eyebrow rise ever so slightly as she did.
"I have been assigned to you personally Dr. Weston. I will be your point of contact during your time in The Kremlin, and while you are working on this project. I am here to serve, guide and inform. My staff is at your disposal if you need to know certain specifics, or need additional information. I will coordinate your visits, in and out of The Kremlin, as well as any other access you might need to other officials while you are working here. Do you have any questions?"
She barely gave the woman a moment to shake her head in the negative before she went on.
"I have a dossier here on our internal information on The Faculty," and she held up a small microchip with the tip of her ring finger and thumb. "May I?"
Dr. Victoria Weston was non-plussed in her response, she was not easily intimidated despite her outward naïve appearance. Krasivolkya could *tell* the woman was confident and not easily rattled. Almost like a Jay when confronted with a wolf. The Jay is not bothered, she knows she is untouchable by the Wolf.
Krasivolkya held the woman's wrist and gently, but firmly placed the microchip on her smooth skin, delicately pressing the corner slightly into her arm. This action triggered the programmed response from the microchip, microscopic prongs attached itself to Dr. Weston. It could easily be scanned now from any ordinary computer, and with her top secret access code, the good doctor could access the information. However, should someone without the code access it, or should it be removed, it's internal circuitry would melt and destroy all information inside. These were the most secure and disposable memory storage advices available.
Dr. Weston was slightly bothered, annoyed or put-off, Krasivolkya confirmed to herself. She, as usual, seemed to *know* the other person's mood. Krasivolkya caught herself involuntarily flaring her nostrils expecting something ... she did not know what, and was not getting any hints from her visitor either.
Krasivolkya grimaced, ever so slightly before recovering her composure. "How stange," she thought, then grabbed the small wireless scanner from her desk and held its infrared beam at the chip. Her computer awoke from its inactive state, and with her voice command, Krasivolkya turned the monitor display, then verbally walked through the steps to access the files embedded in Victoria Weston's arm.
She didn't bother to ask Victoria for her Security code, instead, she entered her own. One more subtle indication of who led here.
A series of images flashed on the screen in a rotating order, a text box available for expanded information if needed by the reviewer.
Krasivolkya had used the hour before Dr. Weston's arrival to memorize the content of each image, so as not to need to break her stride in the presentation. Professionalism and distinct politeness were evident in her tone.
"The Facility is State of the Art and all but unknown save for only very few members of the CCD government. You and I are part of a very small circle, Dr. Weston.
The Ascendency created and personally facilitates funding for The Facility directly. He is committed to using it to find a cure for The Sickness. All patients have volunteered to be a part of the cutting edge research being conducted. Their families do not know the details of their treatment or care, only that they are being sent to a new Medical Research Hospital, that might be their only chance for survival.
No expense was spared by The Ascendency, and The Facility is staffed 24/7.
Your current project will be accommodated by The Facility staff, anything beyond that, you should utilize me to provide for you."
Krasivolkya turned to watch the images rotate another round before continuing.
A long, brightly lit tunnel with glass doors lining one side.
Sterile, clinical, yet not uncomfortable dormitories with various patients sitting or lying in bed as Doctors stood around them.
A lab where a team of research professionals examined information and test results on various virtual tablets that cluttered the table.
Vials of samples of bodily fluids rested in a beaker stand, while a masked female doctor examines one in particular.
A common room, swashed in a sea of white and ecru showed patients discussing information with Facility staff, a virtual tablet between them.
A recreation room showed men and women on treadmills and Pilates balls, while Facility Staff looked on, and took notes.
There were no windows in any of the pictures.
"The Ascendency is committed to finding a cure for this plague ravaging young men and women the world over. He is convinced the benevolence of the CCD can provide the WHO with hence unknown findings to help them make progress in eradicating this disease and stalling this pandemic. The Facility is his gift to the world. One more of many he has already bestowed.
"The Facility functions completely independent of any other Custody or organization. It operates it's own power grid, water supply and hydroponic farm.
--Images of an inside garden, while workers in white coveralls harvested vegetables flashed in front of the two women.
The Pharmaceutical lab at The Facility creates and provide all medication needed for patients and research.--
"Staff are assigned to The Facility in one-year, renewable terms. They agree to live there to make the most of the research being done, and avoid time lost from traveling, or socializing outside of work.
"The Ascendency is determined to find a cure and expects The Facility and it's staff to be as dedicated to that goal as he is.
"You, while having access to all this, as you know, will not be an assigned Facility staffer. You may come and go as your needs and project dictate."
The corresponding images appeared on cue with Krasivolkya's information.
"I hope I have conveyed to you the seriousness and protectiveness with which The Ascendency holds The Facility. Your work here, though temporary, could have long-ranging effects for all of humanity. Such is the honor of working for The Ascendency and the CCD."
Krasivolkya stopped talking in a crisp moment as the screen also went blank, then flashed to her protective screen saver of the Seal and Symbol of the CCD.
She stared down at Dr. Weston as she stood. The doctor had not uttered a word or sound during the presentation. Krasivolkya would have bet she wanted to open her mouth and take a breath, but she was resisting the urge. Krasivolkya began speaking as she made her away around her desk and began gathering items into her brief case, including the leather attaché that had contained this current assignment.
"Again, I will be your go-to during your project for any additional information or interaction with government staff or officials. If you need clearance; you call me. If you need background on another project, department, Custody, or person; you call me. If you need transportation to or from your assignment; you call me. If another government official wants to be updated on your project; you call me. If you need a sabbatical one night or weekend; you call me. And finally, if there is anything out of the ordinary, if staff are not responding like the medical staff you have become accustomed to working with, if you are getting pressure to do or find something BEYOND the scope of your project; you call me. If that is clear, we can leave to go on our tour now. Unless, that is, you have any questions?"
Krasivolkya turned her head to look at Dr. Weston. Her eyes did not show warmth. Her tone was clipped but polite. She had maintained composure and as with all her successful assignments took charge immediately and laid the groundwork for a successful exchange and working relationship. When you were a liaison, you quickly learned most people didn't quite know exactly what they wanted or needed. It was partly your job to make sure you told them what they needed, so as to cement the impression you were anticipating their needs. It was slight of hand, and Krasivolkya was a Master Illusionist. The scent of slight awe, respect and gratitude seemed to waft off the young doctor.
Krasivolkya knew she had done her job. She waited for the woman to respond.
Edited by Krasivolkya, Aug 3 2013, 03:35 PM.