FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
In light of developments over the last three years that have called into question the neutrality and veracity of multiple ISN news reports, Stellvia Corporation is withdrawing the press credentials previously granted to ISN as a company, effective immediately.
Until and unless their reporters are individually granted press credentials, ISN will no longer have access to Stellvia Corporation, Artemis Foundation, and Nikaido Foundation news conferences. Interviews may or may not be granted to ISN reporters by individual senior employees of those organizations, at the employees' discretion.
Stellvia Corporation President Noah Scott commented "We regret the necessity of taking this action. The activities of the Artemis and Nikaido Foundations are of importance to the entirety of the Convention, and must be reported in an accurate manner. It is less important to the Convention that Stellvia Corporation be represented fairly, but this is still important to the corporation's business partners. This action is being taken because of the actions of a small number of irresponsible news personalities at ISN, and should not be taken as a comment on the professionalism of their serious reporters."
***
ISN NEWS STUDIOS, CRYSTAL KYOTO, VENUS.
Throwing the door open, Lucas Miller stormed into his boss’s office, waving a printout. “Have you seen this shit?” he demanded. “What the hell is Scott thinking?”
Looking up, Tamara Barnes glared at her employee, burning away the man's anger and making him back up slightly. “He’s thinking that ISN can’t be trusted to report the news,” she replied, her voice low and angry. “And right now, as much as I would love to try and argue that fact with him, I have to admit, I can see his point.” Tail lashing, the catgirl rose to her feet and pointed at one of the television monitors on her office wall, which was currently frozen on the image of John Simmons. “We’re too far away from Ganymede for me to bother trying to get an answer out of that imbecile,” she commented, “so I’ll have to get it out of you instead. What in all the Hells was that?!”
Backing up another step, Miller raised his hands. “I swear Tam, I don’t know what John was thinking. He told me that Wood was awake, and they’d gotten images of her new form. It was meant to be a one minute update, nothing more.” Shaking his head, he glanced over at the image of their current headache, looking baffled. “That other shit, about the Professor making her some sort of slave girl to punish her? I don’t have a damn clue that came from. I mean, all we’ve got is a few minutes of video, and that’s Wood talking to someone she sees as a friend. And, well…” he hesitated, then waved a hand in his friends direction. “I remember how your body language shifted right afterwards.”
That comment earned him another glare, but there was a lot less fire in it this time. “Right. Okay. You didn’t know he was about to be an idiot. That still doesn’t explain why he was an idiot,” she noted, closing her eyes for a moment and trying to think.
“Oh, that’s easy,” commented a third voice. Leaning against the doorframe, Robert Parker smirked slightly at the pairs curious expressions. “John’s naturally a fucking moron.”
Sighing, Tamara gave the newsreader an irritated look. “I’m well aware how you feel about him,” she began, but the man raised a hand.
“I’m sorry boss, but you don’t, not really. And it’s not really your fault either,” he admitted. “Most of it’s from before either of you joining the network, and until this, John’s done pretty well at not making you look any closer.” Smirking slightly, he shrugged. “Which is why you’ve been muttering about us dropping all the scut work on him,” he added, stepping into the office.
Grumbling to herself, Tamara leaned back in her chair. “Can’t keep anything quiet in a newsroom,” she muttered.
Rob chuckled lightly. "Noticing things is what we do," he agreed. "We always stuck him with the crap jobs because we don't trust him." The catgirl raised an eyebrow, and he scowled. "We don't trust him because he's not a reporter, not really. He came to space in the first place because he couldn't manage to get his degree, and he thought he could bypass it by getting in one the ground level in the new networks up here." Disgust flickering across his features, he claimed one of the office chairs. "John doesn't get what it means to be a reporter, he never has. He doesn't gather information and build the news from that. He comes up with a story, and makes the facts he has try and fit into that."
"Like the Turnerite mess," Tamara realised, sighing in irritation.
"Constance deserves some of the blame for that," Rob noted. "But at least she'll admit it. Hell, she learnt from the experience. It's why she's got the morning show now. John though..." Folding his hands behind his head, he snorted. "Christ, you should have heard him freaking whine about it after Fnord and Suzumiya dug up the true story there. He was still convinced that he was in the right, and Great Justice was just trying to screw him over out of envy or some shit."
Lucas frowned, considering that. Having only been hired by ISN six months ago, a lot of this was news to him, the sort that even the relentless gossip of reporters seemed unable or unwilling to dig up. He'd known about the Turner incident, of course. It was an important, if embarrassing, moment in the network's history. But before today, he'd only thought of John Simmons as the sulky man that never really socialised, and was usually running all over the system doing the odd jobs that no one else wanted.
He'd known that Simmons had been looking for an opportunity to grab the spotlight and get his career back on track, but he'd never realized just what sort of tabloid-style antics the man considered acceptable, or how desperate he'd been. Looking at the disgust on Roberts face, Lucas had to wonder how much of that desperation had been brought about from the mans own ego and carelessness, and how much came from the actions and attitudes of his coworkers.
Then again, at this point, his job wasn’t to ask why the man had been so stupid, it was to deal with the consequences of said stupidity. “I’ve sent Lake a message,” he said. “She should be on her way to Ganymede by now. I’ll have her take over the on-location reporting as soon as she gets there.”
“We’ll just have to put up with a gap,” Tamara said. “Get in contact with Simmons. I want him in the van and on his way back here, right the hell now.” She growled, ears flattening against her head. “If he gives you any attitude, make it clear that if he’s not in front of my desk by tomorrow morning, I’ll hand him over to Antilles gagged and bound!”
“Boss?” her secretary called from outside her office door. “Simon Anders from the Royal Press Office is on Line Two.”
“Dammit. Thanks Xel.” Picking up the handset, she glared at the two men. “Get going!” she snapped, before her voice became calmer, professional. “Hello Simon, I can guess why you’re calling…”
***
JUPITER MINING CORPORATION CENTRAL OFFICES, SERENITY VALLEY, GANYMEDE
“For Gorram's sake! I can see PRECISELY WHY he never got his Bachelor's degree in journalism, and that's probably because he would have been DEATHLY FUCKING ALLERGIC to the ethics courses that I can tell you I personally fucking survived! He's barely worthy of a fucking tabloid!" Myk ran a hand down his face, forcing himself to calm down, relatively. "Makes me ashamed that I never used the degree myself. Please tell me we've got a way to fucking end him if fucking ISN doesn't finally fucking kick him out the fucking goddamned door like they should have with the Turnerite Invasion Fiasco."
"Work in progress," Jeph said, pretty much ignoring the sheer mass of profanity that had just filled the air. "We've got a press release already prepped al'a Stellvia, with an added helping of 'ISN is not welcome to use our transports'. Malcolm's hands are a little more tied, but I'm pretty sure he'll find ways to make ISN's life hell without looking like they're being singled out. I'm half tempted to send them the laundry bill for my shirt, too."
Myk raised an eyebrow, but didn't make any more comment on the last point. He took in one long, drawn breath, then let it out loudly. "I will say, this was the last thing anyone needed. At least everyone else had the respect to at least let the polite fiction stand." Jeph raised a matching eyebrow over her monitor. "Jeph, you better not think there's any reporter in the Black that doesn't know that you call the shots around here, right? The difference is most of them recognize the lack of etiquette involved in calling you out because you don't abuse the fucking privileges that come with it." Myk chuckled darkly. "I kind of suspect that, if nothing else, Simmons is going to find most of his professional relationships freezing out on him just from that, even if ISN does the stupid thing and keep him on."
Geo replied from the door. As usual, he completely ignored the glare Jeph sent his way, rolling into the room and pushing the door shut behind him. Rolling over to Jeph’s desk, he plugged into a data port on the side. Leaning back in her chair, Jeph watched as her browser opened a new tab and loaded up Facebook. Geo explained while Jeph scrolled past the video and into the comments section.
Scowling, Jeph skimmed the comments. “So, simple bad luck?” she muttered. “I’ll still want to talk to him later. We’ve got rules on video recording in the workplace for valid reasons…” she smiled slightly. “Okay, this isn’t the usual reason, but it’s still one to consider.” The scowl came back. “Not to mention…” She waved a hand at the screen.
Geo agreed dryly.
“I’m not going to like this, am I… Oh god dammit,” Jeph muttered, facepalming.
Now well and truly curious despite his common sense, Myk stepped around the desk and looked over his friends shoulder. A moment later, his own scowl returned. “Oh for fucks sake… Really?” he complained, waving a hand at the growing collection of homophobic and sexist comments.
Geo snarked.
“This is all Chris needed right now,” Jeph sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Her day just keeps getting worse.” She glanced at her watch. “And I need to get moving. You guys mind the fort, alright?” Closing the window and standing up, she paused. “Don’t jump on the kid yet. I’ll give him a talking to later,” she noted. Myk grumbled but nodded. “Geo, send that link to Sheriff Roberts and Kitbash.”
the astromech asked.
“She’s got more PR skills than she lets on,” Jeph replied, grabbing her jacket. “And it’s better she knows now, rather than having it dropped on her by some dumbass in the media.”
Heading for the door, Jeph paused with one arm in her jacket. “Where are Nene and Chris, anyway?”
In light of developments over the last three years that have called into question the neutrality and veracity of multiple ISN news reports, Stellvia Corporation is withdrawing the press credentials previously granted to ISN as a company, effective immediately.
Until and unless their reporters are individually granted press credentials, ISN will no longer have access to Stellvia Corporation, Artemis Foundation, and Nikaido Foundation news conferences. Interviews may or may not be granted to ISN reporters by individual senior employees of those organizations, at the employees' discretion.
Stellvia Corporation President Noah Scott commented "We regret the necessity of taking this action. The activities of the Artemis and Nikaido Foundations are of importance to the entirety of the Convention, and must be reported in an accurate manner. It is less important to the Convention that Stellvia Corporation be represented fairly, but this is still important to the corporation's business partners. This action is being taken because of the actions of a small number of irresponsible news personalities at ISN, and should not be taken as a comment on the professionalism of their serious reporters."
***
ISN NEWS STUDIOS, CRYSTAL KYOTO, VENUS.
Throwing the door open, Lucas Miller stormed into his boss’s office, waving a printout. “Have you seen this shit?” he demanded. “What the hell is Scott thinking?”
Looking up, Tamara Barnes glared at her employee, burning away the man's anger and making him back up slightly. “He’s thinking that ISN can’t be trusted to report the news,” she replied, her voice low and angry. “And right now, as much as I would love to try and argue that fact with him, I have to admit, I can see his point.” Tail lashing, the catgirl rose to her feet and pointed at one of the television monitors on her office wall, which was currently frozen on the image of John Simmons. “We’re too far away from Ganymede for me to bother trying to get an answer out of that imbecile,” she commented, “so I’ll have to get it out of you instead. What in all the Hells was that?!”
Backing up another step, Miller raised his hands. “I swear Tam, I don’t know what John was thinking. He told me that Wood was awake, and they’d gotten images of her new form. It was meant to be a one minute update, nothing more.” Shaking his head, he glanced over at the image of their current headache, looking baffled. “That other shit, about the Professor making her some sort of slave girl to punish her? I don’t have a damn clue that came from. I mean, all we’ve got is a few minutes of video, and that’s Wood talking to someone she sees as a friend. And, well…” he hesitated, then waved a hand in his friends direction. “I remember how your body language shifted right afterwards.”
That comment earned him another glare, but there was a lot less fire in it this time. “Right. Okay. You didn’t know he was about to be an idiot. That still doesn’t explain why he was an idiot,” she noted, closing her eyes for a moment and trying to think.
“Oh, that’s easy,” commented a third voice. Leaning against the doorframe, Robert Parker smirked slightly at the pairs curious expressions. “John’s naturally a fucking moron.”
Sighing, Tamara gave the newsreader an irritated look. “I’m well aware how you feel about him,” she began, but the man raised a hand.
“I’m sorry boss, but you don’t, not really. And it’s not really your fault either,” he admitted. “Most of it’s from before either of you joining the network, and until this, John’s done pretty well at not making you look any closer.” Smirking slightly, he shrugged. “Which is why you’ve been muttering about us dropping all the scut work on him,” he added, stepping into the office.
Grumbling to herself, Tamara leaned back in her chair. “Can’t keep anything quiet in a newsroom,” she muttered.
Rob chuckled lightly. "Noticing things is what we do," he agreed. "We always stuck him with the crap jobs because we don't trust him." The catgirl raised an eyebrow, and he scowled. "We don't trust him because he's not a reporter, not really. He came to space in the first place because he couldn't manage to get his degree, and he thought he could bypass it by getting in one the ground level in the new networks up here." Disgust flickering across his features, he claimed one of the office chairs. "John doesn't get what it means to be a reporter, he never has. He doesn't gather information and build the news from that. He comes up with a story, and makes the facts he has try and fit into that."
"Like the Turnerite mess," Tamara realised, sighing in irritation.
"Constance deserves some of the blame for that," Rob noted. "But at least she'll admit it. Hell, she learnt from the experience. It's why she's got the morning show now. John though..." Folding his hands behind his head, he snorted. "Christ, you should have heard him freaking whine about it after Fnord and Suzumiya dug up the true story there. He was still convinced that he was in the right, and Great Justice was just trying to screw him over out of envy or some shit."
Lucas frowned, considering that. Having only been hired by ISN six months ago, a lot of this was news to him, the sort that even the relentless gossip of reporters seemed unable or unwilling to dig up. He'd known about the Turner incident, of course. It was an important, if embarrassing, moment in the network's history. But before today, he'd only thought of John Simmons as the sulky man that never really socialised, and was usually running all over the system doing the odd jobs that no one else wanted.
He'd known that Simmons had been looking for an opportunity to grab the spotlight and get his career back on track, but he'd never realized just what sort of tabloid-style antics the man considered acceptable, or how desperate he'd been. Looking at the disgust on Roberts face, Lucas had to wonder how much of that desperation had been brought about from the mans own ego and carelessness, and how much came from the actions and attitudes of his coworkers.
Then again, at this point, his job wasn’t to ask why the man had been so stupid, it was to deal with the consequences of said stupidity. “I’ve sent Lake a message,” he said. “She should be on her way to Ganymede by now. I’ll have her take over the on-location reporting as soon as she gets there.”
“We’ll just have to put up with a gap,” Tamara said. “Get in contact with Simmons. I want him in the van and on his way back here, right the hell now.” She growled, ears flattening against her head. “If he gives you any attitude, make it clear that if he’s not in front of my desk by tomorrow morning, I’ll hand him over to Antilles gagged and bound!”
“Boss?” her secretary called from outside her office door. “Simon Anders from the Royal Press Office is on Line Two.”
“Dammit. Thanks Xel.” Picking up the handset, she glared at the two men. “Get going!” she snapped, before her voice became calmer, professional. “Hello Simon, I can guess why you’re calling…”
***
JUPITER MINING CORPORATION CENTRAL OFFICES, SERENITY VALLEY, GANYMEDE
“For Gorram's sake! I can see PRECISELY WHY he never got his Bachelor's degree in journalism, and that's probably because he would have been DEATHLY FUCKING ALLERGIC to the ethics courses that I can tell you I personally fucking survived! He's barely worthy of a fucking tabloid!" Myk ran a hand down his face, forcing himself to calm down, relatively. "Makes me ashamed that I never used the degree myself. Please tell me we've got a way to fucking end him if fucking ISN doesn't finally fucking kick him out the fucking goddamned door like they should have with the Turnerite Invasion Fiasco."
"Work in progress," Jeph said, pretty much ignoring the sheer mass of profanity that had just filled the air. "We've got a press release already prepped al'a Stellvia, with an added helping of 'ISN is not welcome to use our transports'. Malcolm's hands are a little more tied, but I'm pretty sure he'll find ways to make ISN's life hell without looking like they're being singled out. I'm half tempted to send them the laundry bill for my shirt, too."
Myk raised an eyebrow, but didn't make any more comment on the last point. He took in one long, drawn breath, then let it out loudly. "I will say, this was the last thing anyone needed. At least everyone else had the respect to at least let the polite fiction stand." Jeph raised a matching eyebrow over her monitor. "Jeph, you better not think there's any reporter in the Black that doesn't know that you call the shots around here, right? The difference is most of them recognize the lack of etiquette involved in calling you out because you don't abuse the fucking privileges that come with it." Myk chuckled darkly. "I kind of suspect that, if nothing else, Simmons is going to find most of his professional relationships freezing out on him just from that, even if ISN does the stupid thing and keep him on."
Geo replied from the door. As usual, he completely ignored the glare Jeph sent his way, rolling into the room and pushing the door shut behind him. Rolling over to Jeph’s desk, he plugged into a data port on the side. Leaning back in her chair, Jeph watched as her browser opened a new tab and loaded up Facebook. Geo explained while Jeph scrolled past the video and into the comments section.
Scowling, Jeph skimmed the comments. “So, simple bad luck?” she muttered. “I’ll still want to talk to him later. We’ve got rules on video recording in the workplace for valid reasons…” she smiled slightly. “Okay, this isn’t the usual reason, but it’s still one to consider.” The scowl came back. “Not to mention…” She waved a hand at the screen.
Geo agreed dryly.
“I’m not going to like this, am I… Oh god dammit,” Jeph muttered, facepalming.
Now well and truly curious despite his common sense, Myk stepped around the desk and looked over his friends shoulder. A moment later, his own scowl returned. “Oh for fucks sake… Really?” he complained, waving a hand at the growing collection of homophobic and sexist comments.
Geo snarked.
“This is all Chris needed right now,” Jeph sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Her day just keeps getting worse.” She glanced at her watch. “And I need to get moving. You guys mind the fort, alright?” Closing the window and standing up, she paused. “Don’t jump on the kid yet. I’ll give him a talking to later,” she noted. Myk grumbled but nodded. “Geo, send that link to Sheriff Roberts and Kitbash.”
the astromech asked.
“She’s got more PR skills than she lets on,” Jeph replied, grabbing her jacket. “And it’s better she knows now, rather than having it dropped on her by some dumbass in the media.”
Heading for the door, Jeph paused with one arm in her jacket. “Where are Nene and Chris, anyway?”