9033/Holst's Planetary Suite: X

Holst's Planetary Suite: X
Date of Scene:	10 December 2021
Location:	Hayden Planetarium
Synopsis:	Pictures from space!
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Michael Erickson

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Jane Foster has posed:
Midday in New York is never quiet, though it's quieter than the impending doom about to fall on Central Park by the name of 'winter holidays.' Then heaps of bored children shall be freed of their studies and free, then, to descend on the unwitting masses if their parents possess the means.

Hayden Planetarium, part of the larger American Natural History Museum, can absolutely boast an impressive array of distractions and diversions. Not so much in the way of Christmas ornaments, though. The SHIELD agent who directs the place certainly has a few of those set aside, an Asgardian ornament among space rocks she's collected and a tree decorated in samples of the many glossier, brighter ornaments related to the Rockefeller Christmas tree. A photo frame displays digital images of various friends and colleagues, mostly in places, and an antique map of London is tacked to the wall.

Her office door is open, a bevy of interns and assistants busy doing something involving digital measurements.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    It's a fusion reactor.

    No. It's a planetarium.

    But it looks like a first-generation fusion reactor, the same hydrogen-lasing sphere that the Shi'ar developed some ten, fifteen thousand years ago. He grew up reading about it. It reminds him of home. And it also has kept him very much appraised of the appallingly meager (but always expanding) state of astronomical knowledge of this planet's population. It also, as said previously, reminds him of home.

    So he's visited here a lot in the last fifty years. Watched it change, watched them strip away the old structure, put up the big glass casement. It's described almost like a cathedral now, and honestly, that's not a terrible way to mirror it: a secular fear and love of creation, the same as the religious tend to view God. And he goes here a lot more nowadays, given what he's up to these days. But. Now. He's here for a dierent reason.

    He manifests at he door, dressed in gray suit, freshly shaved pseudo-fascist undercut making him look like a bit like he's here for her papers. A short, sharp knock against the door jamb annouces his present, and he waits for her to come out.

Jane Foster has posed:
The planetarium design most certainly has a unique quality to it, though Jane won't be offended by the archaic comparison to an interstellar society. Shi'ar work differs greatly from their neighbours, and Earth hasn't even passed into a stage I space-faring civilization. It might be flattering, to some degree, though she had absolutely nothing to do with the architecture. Had she, things might be a considerable bit more pointy. Blame Asgard, it rather has a way of affecting the mind. Her touches, nonetheless, exist inside; the ongoing developments in astronomy and physics get pride of place, along with the defiant insistence Pluto damn well is a planet, you Philistines. Not like the IAU got a good definition in the first place, they excluded Earth as a planet. (True facts.)

Guests of young or old persuasion wander where they shall. An untroubled soul peering up is just another diversion that's worked around while the pair of scientists trying to decide on the placement of an exhibit move past. Jane sips her tea and makes several notes, only lifting her head when the "Ahem" of a passing intern squishing into the outer office shared by most of them further covers the knock with a 'hey, I saw that too' quality. The door's open and thus, all she has to do is turn in her chair. Director of the Hayden meets... space man.

"Why, Mr. Erickson, this is a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the visit? Give me a moment, but do feel free to come in and take a seat. Liberty, will you let Pascal and Ari know I'm busy for the next bit?"

Liberty -- the intern -- gives Michael a definite eyeing up.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Well, Michael's used to being eyed, and he's polite about smiling Liberty's way. Not so polite as to seem patronizing, but not in any way that he would consider, you know, and invitation. Assuming Liberty departs, Michael turns his attention to Jane, entering the office to take the indicated seat. "Oh," he says after a moment, brows lifting as he settles in. "Nothing terribly serious. Are we alone?"

Jane Foster has posed:
Once the brunette sets aside her paperwork, the computer screens locked, she turns to Michael and gestures him to one of the comfortable chairs. "Would you care for some tea or coffee? We have other beverages too, though I wouldn't recommend whatever was in the Nespresso machine. No telling when they cleaned that." Mischief and mirth are dangerous additions as she rises, stretching out, and headed over to put the teapot on.

"Nothing serious and alone, high bar there. Given the nature of my employment, the room is very much my office. And the directorship doesn't stand for bugging offices." Not likely she means her own or the public institution she works for. It's not like Jane is Captain Rogers, and clear about her work.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Perhaps not, but, well. Space and all. Space man, space business. Well above the knowledge or pay grade of most people around here. "Nothing for me, thanks," he replies with a chuckle, his hair like a wing over the top of his skull. Aren't the Shi'ar supposed to have feathers? "Ah, actually, I thought that I'd ask if you'd be interested in some materials I've gathered thanks to my new vocation. Or at least, you know, a temporary one."

Jane Foster has posed:
Space man, space queen. Or one could say. The general mood is active but pleasant, and Jane only tries to add to this by preparing another cup of tea. "Materials from your new vocation? That sounds rather impressive. Have you infiltrated the Chinese space agency and had something to report on the satellite they launched that we aren't supposed to know about? They ought to be careful; Captain Marvel supposedly could fly right up there and punch it." She sounds a bit amused and inclines her head in his direction, loose hair a chestnut wave running down her back. Talented, to look almost the same as ever, an unvarying truth of being quite hale and untroubled by the work that compels them both to act. "By all means, then, I'd be interested to hear about them. And the job."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Well, now," Michael says, coughing faintly as he watches her go about caffeinating herself. "I'm sure she could - so could I, in point of fact. I don't think we've actually gone over my...capabilities, after fighting my people at the Xavier mansion, but that's really something I need to write up for Jessica." Not Agent Drew, mind. "At any rate. speaking of the Xavier school, I've been teaching the students there a temporary course on galactic politics and also galactic history through the lens of the Shi'ar Empire. Which dovetails, as I'm sure you know. Teaching the children how politics can affect historical details and how it is, in fact, taught."

    Michael reaches into his jacket - where a shoulder rigged-holster can be glimpsed as his hand goes into the other side to produce a small hand-held device akin to a very sleek, very fancy remote control in its lack of complexity. "I just agreed to teach them astronomy, in fact, for the coming term."

Jane Foster has posed:
The delicate act of pouring the tea into a cup once the water is boiled comes easily enough to Jane. She dumps a pyramid tea bag in, then waits for it to sink before sprinkling a few amber crystals that preserve honey in a slow-melting form. Her gaze rises for a moment, and she arches her eyebrows. "You're teaching children about the Shi'ar Empire? That is quite the diversion from the usual. May I ask why you're doing that at a private school or is that one of those don't ask because I cannot and will not tell situations?" Hard to say if she has any awareness of what goes on there, but with her WAND and SWORD background, who knows? Furthermore, given what she is -- lady who knows about Asgardians, Nobel Prize winner in a ludicrously short amount of time -- who can really say one way or the other.

"Politics and astronomy, interesting. That will be significant when it comes to the future, since their horizons are expanded far beyond what their parents would have been." Therein, a hint of a smile. "You look pleased about it, though, and I cannot blame you. Teaching is a joy even if the school system leaves a horrendous amount to be desired."

Her gaze flicks toward the object in question. Very fancy indeed.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "My people attacked it," Michael says politely. "The school, that is - and them. The genie's out of the bottle, so it's only right that I, as a known member of the society involved in the attacking, teach them about what's going on out there." He shrugs. "Of course, I'm teaching them /two/ tracks - what humanity knows, and what everyone else knows, at least to a certain point. I am no space scientist. Lets them know the truth of things without also sounding like a maniac." Michael leans back in his seat, then, and squint at the woman across the way from him. "Should I be teaching SHIELD operatives the same? I wouldn't mind it, so long as SHIELD won't mind paying the hours. I've basically had to shutter my security business to do these things - which isn't a complaint. You're right, I love teaching. I did a lot of it when I was an officer, after all."

    He glances at the device in his hand, tracking her gaze. "Oh! Yes. Handheld holographic imager and projection device. I've been taking a number of holograms of planets in your star system. I thought you might want copies of them, for SWORD and perhaps your own interest."

Jane Foster has posed:
"I see. It's not every day you have reparations made in knowledge and deliberately focused to enable their ability to defend themselves. Though your people attacking a school is significant. I'm surprised it was not declared an act of war, honestly, though the director and chief know much more about that than me. I stick to my lane, up there."

Her gesture isn't needed, of course. Everyone knows what an astronomer does, if they're over the age of nine and vaguely educated. "For teenagers or older students, everyone older than they are sounds like a maniac, and should not be trusted. You might talk to Peggy about training people, though SWORD may want a more condensed version for the general sorts. More specifically, who the races are we need to watch for and how to manage them. Kryptonians are one thing, and some quite another." Redacted practically stands on its head there. "I'm sorry that you lost your business. Rather that you had to compromise. That's never easy, especially when you ran the business."

Her gaze flickers upward to Michael's face and languishes a moment, the telling pause lingering there. "You know I owe you thanks for this -- and I do. Though is there a catch technologically? It's not going to unleash a technological revolution that brings down a Luthor or the like on us, will it?" Teasing. Kind of.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "It was resolved," Michael says, his brows arched. "And quickly. There was a coup, and a new Majestrix has been installed that looks favorably on humanity - I've only had to deal with her sister, but from what I understand Majestrix Lilandra is quite happy to ensure that Earth is left alone. It was, in fact, policy until her brother the Majestor started the trouble that lead to this whole thing. Certainly we can talk about it as much as you like, though my understanding of what went on isn't quite as complete a picture as I would like." He chuckles, then. "As for my business, it's fine - I'm going to have to start over anyway, considering how damaged my reputation became when I helped arrest my own clients and delivered them to SHIELD."

    Michael waves a hand, then, and sets the device upon her desk. "The device itself is fairly simple, but you're welcome to examine how it works. The data itself is stored in a crystal-wafer data cartridge that you can extract and examine as well. I am not, unfortunately, a technician and so I cannot go into great depths as to how if functions. It's an espionage-quality device, however, so unless there's been some incredible advance in imaging technology over the last few decades you should have an idea of how good the resolution can be."

Jane Foster has posed:
It doesn't help that, regardless of what someone thinks they are saying, they inevitably /mean/ something to Jane. Majestrix is close enough to Latin to adequately translate, and even were it not, the context of the words wrap themselves in a way that never will be normal. "We can, though hardly here. I should recommend that we do so outside where the limitations of anyone bothering us are slim. How do you feel about the Shetlands?" Probably a joke, though possibly not. Jane /would/ pick St. Kilda or Ascension Island just to make a point, though the heaving wild Northern Atlantic is not a place to dance around. Any more than the southern Indian Ocean is, quite frankly.

"Do you regret throwing in with SHIELD, or have you found it to be satisfactory? The transition must have been different for you, compared to many of us."

That said, though, she will be happy to take the device and figure it out. "I'm something of a technician, though not on a scale like this. No doubt we throw this at Fitz, he would figure it out in a few minutes flat." Total madness, right? Wouldn't it be nice to be based on functional understanding? "All things considered, I'll ask you to meet Reed Richards and tell me again what you think of this device. Though to some extent, I can only imagine that he would be seen as nearly elementary among certain cultures. Don't let him know that, though. What sort of images have you managed to capture?"

It turns on /somehow./ She's going to figure it out, gently, one way or the other.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I've had some issues," Michael says with a faint smile. "People telling me to fit in, when my own cultural and military methods are just as valid. I'll need to talk to the Chief about not needing ICERs, for example, when everything in my personal arsenal is milennia ahead of...anything on this planet, really. I'm not an agent, but I like you all. So I'm happy to help." He's about to say more, but then she mentions Richards and he suddenly laughs. "Richards. You know I helped Ben Grimm the other month, he gave me a card to visit the doctor." A look of vaguely wistful amusement crosses his face. "You know until Richards and his Fantastic Four battled Doom of Latveria in the early Nineties, my people didn't care about the metahumans on this planet - I was sent here to monitor the Kree, not humanity. In a very direct way, he's responsible for my being here today."

    Michael laughs again, a soft but easy sound, and he continues. "Images. Let's see, in that batch there's a number of images of Jupiter, several of its moons....Saturn, both from near orbit and from the rings. I have some mineralogical samples from both planet's moons, though I havent' finished my survey. Oh! And a good number of shots of Venus and Mercury, particularly of the latter as there are some very interesting shots of chromatic mineral formations on the surface that seemed good photographic material. I have no artistic ability, so they're going to be rather workmanlike in composition, but..."

Jane Foster has posed:
"ICERs can be somewhat necessary to avoid lethal force, which understandably causes problems for the agency. It wouldn't bother some to employ it, but the mission has always been the idea we can use a lighter touch -- doing our damnedest, really, as we can to try to maintain the status quo. You belong to your own people more than you have to answer to us, and the semantics there will always be a matter over my head." Truth, that. She doesn't break into a smile. But the Grimm, the Richards, the Doom; ah, they're known to her well enough. "At the end of the day, we stand on the dawn of a new age and either we'll be taken seriously or not. It's rather curious, isn't it?"

She turns her attention to the images that will be depicted, ro what lies there. "Saturn's moons are unusual, especially Enceladus. It's never too late to start saying we should leave the ice-sea moons alone in the hopes any life harboured there won't be messed with by us. Contamination is always a concern. Likewise I don't know that Triton is particularly safe for us, either?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I don't belong to my own people," he says with a faint smile. "I just belong to this planet, now. And if you'd like, I can let you have a look at what nonlethal weapons I have. Neural disruptor from my people, and also a Spartax design I liberated from a collector who shouldn't have had it - a sunburn gun, nonlethal microwave emitter that works somewhat along the same lines of the American military's riot control devices. Painful, if nonlethal. Very effective." He reaches into his jacket again, comes up with a folded sheet of paper. "I've written down the instructions here."