(2016-06-24) It All Makes Sense
It All Makes Sense
Summary: Oliver finally receives some information from Michael J Michael following the reception of the mysterious box on Alien Day
Date: 2016-06-24
Related: Alien Day Logs
NPCs: Michael J Michael
Scene Runner: Poseidon played Michael

For those who know Oliver, there is still the same shape of his facial features and still the same 'look', and yet there are enough differences in this form. First of all, his entire body is covered in iridescent purple scales that, when touched, shift colors like an oil spot in a puddle. When Oliver is tense, alert, or frightened, these scales stand up on end, 'puffing out', so to speak. While he is still roughly the same height and shape, his shoulders are much broader due to a plate-like formation going in threes from his shoulder nearly to his elbow. His hands are slightly large in proportion and tipped with sharp claws. His feet are likewise clawed.

While his facial features are still very 'Oliver', there are some definite differences. His eyes, instead of having the very human cornea, iris, and pupil, are a solid, glowing, turquoise blue. They're also larger and longer than human eyes and are tilted against sharper, higher cheekbones. His nose is a bit flatter and almost serpentine in shape. An almost horn-like 'crown' lines his brow and up along his temples, joining his ears to then taper down the back of his neck. His teeth, still white, hold sharp points.

The young man looks up from his screen, perhaps a quick check to see the nonsense some people have posted on facebook. Which can be done sometimes, he keeps an orderly desk. Filing done, calender in order, itinerary for MJ Michaels organized, gone over with the boss. He was ready for this arrival even. Looking up, he smiles, knowingly in a manner. "Mr. Blythe, a pleasure," he even stands to offer a hand over. "Mr. Michaels is expecting you." Overstatement and curtesy by necessity all at once. "Please come in, we can go to his office." A shake if returned, then a turn to the large double doors leading to the corner office at the top of the building. "Anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water, energy drink, Crumaen juice." The last one a bit off, the way he says it gets him to smile about it, "I don't know, he said to offer it." And a shurg, Oliver can choose, but he is lead into the office the same.

It is windows all around, two sides, and a desk. it looks like one metal pole on one corner, and a large piece of glass with no other support, Michael J Michaels is there, and he's typing away at air. It must project something in front of him that only he can see, cause he seems focused. But the intrustion, a swipe of his hand, and he's looking at the group.

The assistant announces, "Mr. Oliver Blythe, sir." Though standing, he presumes as much, "Oliver, come in." Like they're old buddies even. "Did you offer him the juice." Michael asks, with a grin. The man known as Michael J Michael is tall at over six feet easily, and angular. Not the earth angular that means sharp features, but nearly true corners rather than rounding at the angles of his face. His hair looks thick and tight, like buffalo, with tight dreads, less thick its so tight as it is pulled into a pony tail at his back. The ends stick out in ever direct though from that poney tail, little points where they end. He waves over to a location with two couches, no arms, small backs, spindle like legs. An oval like coffee table between them, the box device is on it, and he is waving one hand in that direction, as he comes around his desk. The other hand extended for a shake as well. "A pleasure, truly a pleasure to meet you, come in, be comfortable." He'll wait for Oliver to decide to take a seat, before me moves himself towards offered couches.

Oliver the shake is returned even though Oliver does seem a little overwhelmed. He figured he'd be all right, but it sort of smacked him all at once that he might actually get ANSWERS! Even he can be struck speechless every now and again.

When the drinks are offered, he blinks at the thing he never heard of, "What? Oh. Water, please." And he's struck speechless again as he's led into the Tony Stark-like office. How is he ever going to tell the others about this??

He then shakes Mr. Michael's hand, sort of watching him with a teenager's sense of awe and curiosity before he dutifully moves to sit on one of the couches. Only then does his tongue sort of return, "I'm sorry. I just…I mean, coming here and maybe you have all this information or maybe you have nothing, but at least I'm not going crazy. Am I?"

Because that made so much sense.

The assistant, agrees, "Water it is." Simply enough and he moves to retrieve some drinks. Leaving the boy with Michael. The man shakes his head, clapsing hands in front of him with amusement, a steeple to fingers to dot at his chin. "By the Rifts of Trand, no, you're not crazy in the least." A sqint of his eyes, making sure the boy really doesn't believe that. As if, crazy, incredulous in the least. Then a shake of his head, as if his leg was just pulled in amusement. Leaning back slight, such that that rather small back of the couch just touches at the small of his back, sensed more than being a real support, he studies the other. "I have listened to it, five times, in its entirety (sp). Just to assure its authenticity. Which I assume is the main reason you sent it to me. I can assure you, the Princess Xratzth is who she claims to be. It was in question of late, if she was still alive. Of course they wouldn't want that out there, but my sources confirm she is indeed truly the princess." Said as if Oliver knows the entire message of course.

The assistant returns, a water for Oliver, some drink for Michael, it has a sprig in it with leaves of some slightly blue hue, it tinges the water just a little. Michael reaches for the sprig to swirl his drink, as he watches Oliver's reaction with fascination.

"So you understand it?" Oliver scoots to the edge of the sofa seat, his eyes wide before he remembers that he has a notebook in the backpack that's still over one shoulder. Right. He puts that on the ground and digs out the notebook and pen as if preparing to write it down. "Princess…that was a girl?" Not that it matters and not that his own alien form is particularly masculine or feminine by human terms. "It was like the thing in Star Wars but real! Was she looking for Obi Wan Kenobi?" Is -he- real?

The assistant gets a sort of smile and a polite "Thank you" when he delivers the drinks but then he's looking at the thing Michael has. "Is that the…Crum…uhm…that other stuff that was offered?" It might be a little early for curacao.

"Why .. yes," grins Michael, then a blink. At the initial question. Then a slow nod of understanding. The Obi Wan thing may help further that. As he listens then nods his head, "Yes, this is the Crumaen juice." He looks down at it, "The berries would be too potent other wise, its is more the sap itself. Very delicious though. Would you like to try?" He hasn't taken a drink yet, he does slide it closer for the boy. "Its a stimulant, legal on earth now, but only available in Thunder Bay. A little more than the tea here." Nothing on the true narcotic level, its natural, unprocessed.

Then he sits forward just a little, to draw a leg up over his other knee. "It is real and something like the message from Star Wars, if Obi Wan Kenobi was something like a cousing to the Princess." By way of explaining, then a finger finds his chin again to give it a scratch. "Or was he? I forget, who was the father again?" Then he shakes that thought out of his head. "Either way, it seems a message intended for you at some point. Cousin isn't entirely accurate in this case. Princess Xratzth mentioned her 3rd Drendler, it has something to do with the mother's lineage, and how far removed you are by ways of marriage and bloodlines. But there is a recognized relationship there. Its traceable in your bioluminescent signature. Not visible on the spectrum, but an imprint left at a higher frequency by your people. Well, most beings, just your kind has developed readible technology and can trace genetics in the patterns." Which he then hand waves aside, its all boring stuff, to him. "But yes, she has asked for your help. She is currently in hiding and unable to return to her people, you're one of the few she knows about still operating freely. It is truly the last card to pull from her sleeve … like an Earth Magician." Which suddenly brings him a smile, as if stage magic is a curious fascionation. "Nothing in here, or there, but alas, it is your card, the 12 of shades." Or spades, and no 12 pip cards, he needs to study them more it seems.

Oliver considers the drink offer and even starts to reach for it before it's mentioned that it's a narcotic. He then flicks a glance to Mr. Michaels before he sits back, "Thanks, but…I probably shouldn't." Especially since he wants to hear all of this and take notes. The notebook is even opened and he has the pen in hand.

"Darth Vader was Princess Leia's father, not Obi Wan," Oliver starts, but they're not here to talk about Star Wars! Of course, he's stuck trying to spell the Princess' name, so that didn't get very far. He looks down at himself when bioluminescence is mentioned but then looks sharply back, "She knows about me? Operating freely? I…" So much for taking notes. Quickly draining the water he tries to gather his thoughts, "Can we start at the beginning please? I didn't know that I was something not-human until I found that thing on the beach after it crashed during the meteor shower." On Alien Day. How appropriate.

There is a nod of understanding from Michael at the polite refusal of the drink, no harm no foul at all. But a blink at the notebook, "We need to get you a pad," smart device item he means, "I don't have anything with an interface for your kind, which is truly remarkable. You simply put a finger to the interface port and by means of shifting a part into it, you can type the full extent of your language and many others in the galaxy with the most sublte of shifts and moves inside the chamber."

But that's old news, and his jaw drops a little, "Oh no, the one in the black was her father?" The movie has an entire new meaning just this moment for Michael J Michaels. The revelation coming to him now even. "Alien day, a day to rejoice. We have our rights now on earth you know." And appropriate that its lead to them meeting now even. "We can work with this. You are a member of the Trintay Empire. They rose to the dominent culture of their galaxy millenia ago. They are located," he pauses, looks towards his desk and even from here, flicks his hand to pull up the computer that projects from the glass there, some can be seen by Oliver from this perspective on the couches, but most still designed to be viewed by Michael as the current operator. "The Draco Dwarf galaxy, a neighbor of your Earth's galaxy here … the Milkyway." And he side comments, "Named after a candy bar … earth." A chuckle, he doesn't know it could be the other way around at the moment. Seems no one is just bluntly honest with him at times. "But they have been at war with the Krex for some 400 earth years. Half the empire has fallen recently and Princess Xratzth's planet must have been attacked recently. She is the heir apparent as of my latest information. The Krex are claiming ascension even now, but if she lives, it could rally the systems still loyal to your family. At least enough to stop total domination." As if this is every day stuff, matter of fact even. He turns back to look at Oliver.

Maybe he should have brought a recording device to try and remember all of this stuff later…or listen to it and try to make sense of it. When Michael mentions the smartpad and the interface for languages, Oliver points out, "Uh, I speak English…" no others, that he knows of. He needs to fix that though for his shifting. But that's something else entirely.

Trintay Empire. He can phonetically spell that in his notebook. Oliver then looks up at the projection to see where, in space, that is. He's not going to correct Michael about the candy bar. Not yet. "She's the heir to the entire empire or just the planet?" he starts but then pauses. "Wait, my -family-?"

"Oh, for now, I'm sure you'll pick up your native language quickly enough," returns Michael with over confidence. Though all he's accomplished even since being on earth, it could be justified. His confidence level that is. He lifts that blue tinged drink for a sip, a slight wince. Must be strong too. But the swallow and eye squint suggest it does taste good just the same.

A nod, "The Empire, she is already the defacto leader of the planet. Or was, until Lord Grenkel showed up to claim dominion. It is one of twelve seats of power in your empire. It would be third in line for the throne." A pause, he thinks, taps his chin, this time with the sprig of Crumean berry leaves. "Like the Prince of Wales. Everyone knows it means he would replace the queen by tradition, an office to hold. Well, your earth queen might change that by naming a grandson as heir." Ah, but other politics entirely, he nods with interest. "Yes, its a few steps removed. Something like a clan, which with a dynasty like the Ranthz, it can only be expected. You are related if not distant. That's what I meant about being like a cousin. If Obi Wan was the cousin of Princess Leea," he tries to pronounce Star Wars names, its alien to him. "It would be just like your situation now, but they were not family, so it is completely different." No, its no different at all, its a save me Obi Wan message.

"She's Britain's queen," Oliver offers weakly. This is a lot to take in! "So she wants me to help? How? And how did she know how to find me? Can others find me? Will these…uhm…Lord Grenkel and his guys try to find me for some reason?" Like, to kill him to prevent him from helping? "Can everyone in this…Empire…or Galaxy…or…clan shapeshift? What are they like? I mean, besides this war." So wait, they're the good guys in this? They're the Rebellion?

It's a reason to turn into Han Solo at least.

"I assume so," returns Michael, "Find you I mean. I'm not sure how you've come to be here, or why. But she knew you were here. Maybe you were sent here for your safety?" It seems logical. "If we could find a good probe, I'm sure we could fathom the parts you do not know. Were you born here, with a family?" He was going with Oliver might just not remember everything, his confidence led him to go with his initial thoughts, which are changing even now.

Setting the sprig back into his drink, he unfolds his legs, putting a hand on each knee to lean forward just a little. "Well, no, just your race, which is the dominent civilization currently in the Trinstay Empire. You compose 9 of the 12 seats." A pause, "Or you did. Krex is claiming half of the seats. Not that they would recognize the power structure once they are overlords, but only to reduce support for the resistence to make their dominion easier. The other seats were held by a winged race of celestial beings. Your family and their ruling family have had a long standing tradition of cooperation, which has lead to a long standing peace in your galaxy." Sounds really good actually, "Up until Lord Grenkel and the Krex invaded that is."

"I don't know if I was. As far as I know, I've been in the Foster system since I was a baby…that's all they'll tell me. There's no records of my parents and I was dropped off at a fire station or a church or something like that." People still do that? Oliver is trying to keep his head from spinning too fast, but he did want this information. All of it. But it's like asking someone to say 'Sure, you're human and here's all the stuff that your race has done in the millenia it's been on earth.'

"Winged celestial beings. Like angels?" So they're real? "So this Lord Grenkel and the Krex are the bad guys…and I'm Luke Skywalker?"

"Oh, a fire house, charming," says Michael regarding the drop off, as if again, another fascination. Like its a good melodrama, versus just at the adoption place or some hospital. Firefighters being hero figures and all. Of course, the actual life could be far from charming, just his take on it. Alien perspective, true alien perspective. "That may be a question for your real family though, your heritage, how you came to earth. If it has a purpose even." The coming to earth, versus says something like happenstance. There is a nod from the man, "Yes, something like earth angels. As there are people with powers here, they too have powers. All of them, it is not shapeshifting, but empathy, healing, a hive mind even. They are a curious study, as are your people." Then a grin and a hesitant nod, "Yes, like Luke Skywalker, she believes you are her last hope. Not quite siblings, but distant cousins of a sort. I believe by rights of ascension, you may be the equivilant of a city governor, or a president for a state." Or a nation? The area being begger than a city maybe, or including a city and surrounding area?

"Ok, so, let me try to get this straight," Oliver manages to breath before scrubbing his hand over his face. "I'm an alien from some far Galaxy that's having this huge political war. I'm related to the Princess who is heir to the Empire which means I'm also kind of Royalty and she believes I can somehow help her with all that's going down. So somehow, she found me and sent that thing and showed me that I'm more…" ok, that's for later. "And this Empire is allied with Angels but their ruling…Senate…is being taken over by Lord Grillex…no, Lord Grenkel and the Krex who want to take over for themselves."

He's quiet for a moment before he lifts one finger in a question, "Ok. First of all, why aren't my people shapeshifting into Krex people and infiltrating that way? Second of all, What is this fight about and why is it so bad if this Lord Grenkel takes over? And thirdly," Here he takes another breath.

"I'm sixteen years old! What do I know of politics??"

A fingers comes up, he touches the side of his cheek and nods as Oliver recaps the information. Michael J Michael uses it in something of a touch to the nose while playing charades, on the point. "Exactly." To the summary, as for the questions, he turns his lips upwards in what is most likely an expression of thought. Chewing it over sort of. "Let's see. Yes, you have tried shapeshifting into the Krex, but like your genetic readers, the Krex have technology to identify a true Krex from a shifter, even genetic imprints seem to fail to pass their scanners." Leaning forward more, "Their reclamation chambers, part of their religion. It is a process one must do when docking in their ships or landing in their ports. Religious in nature, it also reveals true Krex from imposters. Many have tried to pass the reclaimation process, many have died." Not like Star Wars at all ….? A pause though, "I'm not sure what you know of politics, and I am certain there are vast difference in Earth Politics and Trintay Politics as well."

"But why are they fighting in the first place? Why is Lord Grenkel and the Krex so bad? Do they just want to kill everyone and take over that way or something? Or enslave them? Take away their culture and identity?" That question wasn't answered yet. "So the Krex are religious nuts? Ok, I guess I can see that…" he starts but then looks from the angular alien to his empty glass of water to his nearly empty notebook. "What am I supposed to do to help? How am I supposed to even get there? I'm a kid with absolutely no knowledge of any of this…"

Michael takes in the curiosities and questions of Oliver then. His eyes follow to that nearly empty water. He will point towards the desk to put a call over to the assistants desk, the fellow is named Craig, he asks for a water from Craig. "Simple expansionism. The Krex believe the entire universe should be theirs, or belong to their faith as you indicate. Cultures are brought in and encouraged join or eradicated in the process. They are a mix of beings, beings of their faith. The Faith of Nine." That is the easy part of him to answer of course. The later his him lean back again, until his back barely sets at the short back rest on the couch.

"As for that, it truly depends. You could see if anyone is going up there, or recruit some to your cause of course." He considers this all a moment. "I cannot join this crusade, but perhaps a means to get there or back can be provided for, assuming you want to help this relative of yours?" Best way to answer a question is with one it would seem in the momemnt.

Expansionism is understood. Oliver has taken history classes, after all, and he's watched movies and television shows. He does get that part. "Ok, so they want to rule the galaxy. That never seems to work well for anyone though, does it?" is asked with a tilt of his head. His brows then draw down in a frown, "So people from here -can- get up there? Or…you guys can get me there? I mean, I can probably get some friends to help, but…" there's the difficulty again. "I'm a kid." Or not too far from it. "What sort of thing can I do? I don't even know if I'd be able to understand what they'd want of me much less be able to help."

The hands come off his legs, or thighs as the shifted when he leaned back, and steeple to his chin again. "Ah, the is the crux I believe." A nod of understanding though. "Encoded in the message is a religious codex, that has been researched for the centuries of conflict. The faithful may have brainwashed some of the devout. There is a way to free those who have converted that they have free will once again. How this can be implied, how it can be fully decoded, anything else needed, that lies with Princess Xratzth. It asks for you help, in keeping the codex safe, as well as delivery to a mystic of the celestials of these plans. You are supplied with coordinates, some may be the true location, others may be," he pauses to think. "Red catfish," herrings, "I believe she thought you could ascertain where to go, or might know who to speak to about figuring this out. You have a few relatives left that are free, but they may collapse as Grenkel applies pressure on the home planet of your Princess."

Oliver just sort of drops his head into his hands as there's even more to this. "It's like…Alien Game of Thrones…" is murmured, mostly to himself. He stays like that for a few seconds before he turns to look at Michael. "All this stuff you're telling me…this is the first time I've ever heard any of it. I didn't even -know- I had that base form until that device fell from the sky and I touched it. I'm completely clueless and I'm supposed to help this Princess relative of mine or the entire Empire is going to be conquered? That's a lot of pressure!"

Indeed, he's feeling really overwhelmed. "This thing you mentioned that might pull out memories…would that work even if I don't think I have any? Would it give me the memories so I could do this? Otherwise, I'm stuck at the opposite end of the galaxies knowing that somewhere, a family that I might actually have, is being eradicated and I can't do anything about it and I'll never meet them." He's usually able to control himself, but this is a lot. This is so much potential and so much ridiculousness and so much information that it's not the easiest at the moment.

Alien he may be, Michael can also read some of the features and expressions. Those truly more universal than localized to simply this planet. "I don't know Game of Thrones, but sounds like a sticky situation." A slight grin, or not, he has no clue, but thorns, sharp, stick. "A probe?" He nods slowly as the word comee back, "Well, it can be done a few ways. There are some on earth that can simply enter your mind, and I know there are a few here on the surface that have the technology to do so. You were left as a child, it could be a fruitless effort due to simple lack of memories." No, he pauses, lifts a brow, "Unless you've been sent dream context. Something to prepare you even while you didn't know it was happening." That sounds an awful lot like brain washing too though. "Worse case, you gain nothing her but simply go and visit one of your remaining relatives, to see what you think for yourself. They can tell you more of the relevant situation too. It is a neighbor really, close to our galaxy hear, not halfway across the expanding universe, not even halfway to the universal core."

Oliver continues to scrub at his temples, "But you said only some of the coordinates are right. How am I going to get someone to taxi me around space, hoping that I'm going to the right address?" He doesn't think he has any memories, his first ones are certainly not of aliens. "I don't think I've ever dreamed about Alien politics. That seems far too advanced for the dreams I tend to have." After all, he is sixteen. Ahem.

"Help? Please? I don't even know where to begin with something like this. Thank you for helping decipher the thingy and for telling me all about it, but I don't even know what to -do-!"

"Yes, I can provide a transport. Do you need a pilot?" Michael is pretty strait forward, less a taxi service. "My only thoughts are to try to have someone read your mind, try the technology, or visit a relative if you can. Or try to find the Princess even. Its a question of which you wish to pursue. I will help with your decision of course, as much as you need."

"If I've been here since I was a baby, then I wouldn't know anything even if someone read my mind, right?" Unless someone -has- been brainwashing him from space. That's actually kind of scary. "Visiting a relative would be great, but…I can't speak the language and you said yourself that some of the coordinates that are on the thingy are real and some are fake. How do I know which ones to use?"

He may profess independence as much as possible, but he is completely out of his element on this one. "Thank you for providing transport and yeah, I think I'll need a pilot. Can humans breathe on those planets?"

"On most planets," he considers, "Yes, otherwise they would not an atmospheric converter. I can provide you with some, as well as a personal translator." Left at that, Michael doesn't specifiy if he means a person or a device. "If you have friends here, let them know. Or if you mean to take them with you. Prepare what you must. I suggest going home to curdle." No, he shakes his head, "Digest, to digest this. The little things, a ship, breathing aparatus, communications devices, it is trifle in the scale of this Oliver. This is an Empire, and it has come to rest in the cusp of your hands." Or been passed from one hand to another by way of the black box. "I do not know what the Krex know, but a decision must be made. The box could be sent to a relative as well, but you were trusted in this by the Princess."

"I think they'd want to come and I'd want them there, but I don't want to put them in danger." Team Metis thinking, perhaps? Oliver looks at the notebook beside him and closes it, dumping it back into his backpack before zipping that back up. "Yeah, digest. I appreciate it though. All the help. I guess I'll just have to…guess at the coordinates? Is there any way you could translate those for me too? And the message?" He should probably get the device back in any means.

"I don't know why she'd trust me, she doesn't even know me." This is something that happens in the movies or in books! But then again, he's a shapeshifting alien who goes to a school for superheroes.

Anything can happen.

"I don't know, they do say blood is the tie that binds." Universal. He nods, "Certainly, let me translate it all for you. Then I will send you the box, you can listen as well to the message. I'll have a translator ready for you by then, you can use that to hear it yourself. Maybe it will ding the bell for you." He rises to his feet at those words, the thanks, the asking for the trnaslation. "I hope this turns out well for you Oliver. I will help where I can, but this is for you to decide how to proceed. Civilizations come and go in the universe, the sand in the wind. This one … is yours."

Oliver stands as well and gathers his backpack, slinging it back over one shoulder. He then holds out his hand again, "Really, thank you." It's a lot to put on young shoulders and it's true, he does need to go back and 'curdle'. It's a good thing he took the whole day off.

"I guess we'll know sooner or later if it does, right?" is offered with an attempt at a smile. He won't be bored on the bus trip back with all of this to think about!


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