Solange crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, watching the transport shuttles land against a backdrop of black space and bright stars as her coffee turns cold on the small table beside her. She opted to have it black, despite having her choice of nearly fifty different variations on the standard cup of coffee at the kiosk behind her. Her eyes flick to the large arrivals/departures holo off to the left. The Institute's private shuttle Ariel was due to arrive in another half cycle. Nothing to do in the meantime except wait. And watch. And have her coffee grow cold.
She sighs and looks around. People, people everywhere, walking back and forth on the concourse under the neon lights and two-story-high video advertisements. No sun or wind here, a completely self-contained world with only the vacuum of space outside. Did anyone miss grass? Why should they, when they believed they had everything they needed on this station? Shopping, work, entertainment, travel, sex...it was all here, in this city in space named Hope. All here, including a means to obtain technology. And not just any technology, but THE technology. Nanotechnology. Tiny robots so small they could enter a human cell and so advanced they could control and change a cell's DNA.
It's that last part Solange is interested in. If the nanobots can control a cell's DNA, then they can instruct that cell to heal and replicate itself-not just muscle and bone, but nerves as well. And if she could get access to that technology, and get her father here to benefit from it...but she was getting ahead of herself. First things first, and the first thing was to meet the nice man onboard Ariel who was from the Institute and convince him that she had the right social credentials and the right amount of credits in her bank account to warrant the Institute's service. Experimental here, nanotechnology is new enough that only the socially elite have access, and only the fabulously wealthy can afford it. She'd spent the last few weeks in the Hub obtaining the proper documents, procuring the right contacts to get her access to the Institute, and filling a bank account with copious amounts of money-none of which was too terribly difficult for an industrious Pattern initiate. Everything taken care of. So why did she feel so nervous?
A mechanical whine near her feet brings her out of her reverie. A "buddy" 'bot trolls the floor looking for trash under the tables and chairs of the kiosk serving the observation deck where she sits. It wheels around her feet and, finding nothing of interest to it, rolls on to inspect under the next table. Amazing how small these 'bots are, she thinks, only about the size of her deck of trump cards. They suck in the small trash they find, disintegrating it on the spot in some sort of fusion reaction and using a portion of the resultant energy to power themselves. The rest of the energy is transferred somehow-something to do with quantum mechanics that she didn't quite grasp-to a power station elsewhere on Hope. She's relieved that the 'bot knows how to tell the difference between a person and a piece of trash.
Solange stretches and consults the holo again. Ariel will be here soon. Time to get up and go down to the Deck to meet it. She stands and walks away, melting into the stream of people on the concourse, leaving the untouched cup of coffee on the table.
The dockside ship's berthing list is updating itself as Solange approaches. Ariel is listed as "insystem/approaching" but there is nothing in the "estimated arrival time" column. She's supposed to be in Green Seven Delta, but lots of berths seem to have been shuffled around recently. Green Seven Beta is marked "Out of Service" on the berth list, although it looks like there's a ship in the bay and zipped up tight. Solange might be able to see it from the coffee shop, but then she might miss her connection.
Solange feels the vibrations of the dockside decks that tell of an arrival. To her ground-trained sense of balance, it feels like a small earthquake. There's a ship in Green Seven Delta, but both locks are still closed. There's also no signs of customs or cargo handlers. There are a few people around, but not many. It's Maiday's night, but usually the docksides are a twenty-four hour concern. At least the Alterday customs staff should be present.
Odd. It adds to the unease she's already feeling. She taps her fingers on the side of her legs as she glances at the berthing list. Has it identified the ship in Green 7D as Ariel?
After a moment, the Green7B personnel lock opens and three people step out. Two are armored, wearing hardened vacuum suits and carrying weapons. Neither the armor nor the weapons looks as if they are new.
The third person is a woman with a crewcut. She wears a ship's jumpsuit, but she carries herself like a military officer. She walks up to Solange. "Mademoiselle, are you waiting for someone?", she asks.
"Isn't everyone down here?" she replies lightly, trying for a humor approach as she surreptitiously eyes the armored men and their weapons. Her gaze returns to the woman. "Is there someone in particular you're looking for?"
Her voice holds no emotion as she lies smoothly to Solange. "You'll have to leave. We're moving dangerous cargo through here. It's for your own safety."
The personnel lock has a ready light blinking, but the door does not open.
"I'm meeting someone aboard the ship that just landed in Seven Delta," Solange replies flatly, mirroring the woman's tone. "Important business deal. He'll be out presently and we'll move our conversation off the dock so we won't be in your way."
"I'm sorry Mademoiselle, we are on a tight schedule and our cargo is not safe. Unless you are both cleared and suited, I'm afraid you cannot stay here. I can bring in the Stationmaster's Office and the Dockside Patrol if you desire, but it would be easier and quicker if you would depart."
The hatch on the Seven Beta dock starts to cycle, and the woman reaches down and presses a button on a short-range comm-link. "Duvalier to Invincible. We're not secure out here yet!" She turns back to Solange.
"Mademoiselle, I suggest you leave now to avoid military detention for your own safety."
Solange glances at the still-closed personnel lock for Seven Delta, then looks back at the woman. "Go get the Stationmaster's Office, then," she says, putting her hands on her hips and lowering her chin. "This is a public dock and I'm within my rights as a citizen of Hope to conduct my personal business in a public area. Or would you like to talk to my lawyers?" All bluff and bravado, but Solange wants the woman to go away for a moment so she can think.
"Non, Mademoiselle, I do not wish to spend my time talking to lawyers. We will avoid that contingency." She reaches down the comm-link again. "Sweep Two, a devant. Detenez-la."
The two armored troopers come walking up. Both are carrying anti-personnel weapons. The armored space-suits do an excellent job of dehumanizing them. The only thing Solange can tell about them is that they're assigned to FSS Invincible, they're in armor that has seen battle damage, and that they'll be in range to grab her in a moment.
The woman who called herself Duvalier waits for them, neither moving in nor giving ground.
Interesting. Business is most everything in Hope, and Solange is surprised that playing the "this-is-an-important-business-deal" trump and threatening her with lawyers got no conciliatory reaction from Duvalier. Must be something damn important they have on that ship that they're going to these lengths to keep it a secret.
Regardless, she's not currently armed and they definitely are.
"Fine," Solange growls, "I'm going."
She throws her hands up in front of her and starts moving for the door. It's a setback not meeting with the contact aboard Ariel, but with some effort she can rearrange things, even if she has to tweak the situation using Pattern. Perhaps she can convince the Stationmaster's Office to let her contact the Ariel via comm-link.
"You'll hear from my lawyers!" she continues for form's sake, because such a retort is expected.
Duvalier doesn't reply to that, but the two troopers do not leave her side either. They seem content to let her go.
Well, that's something at least. She was concerned for a moment that she'd be escorted out by the troopers all the way to an adjacent sector. Solange makes a mental note of the ship's name, FSS Invincible, before leaving the area.
Very strange. If Duvalier is so concerned about securing the area, why was Ariel allowed to dock? Assuming the ship in Seven Delta even is Ariel.
[Questions for GM: Were there other ships docked in Green Seven besides Invincible and and the one in Seven Delta? While on the dock, could Solange determine if the ship in Seven Delta is actually Ariel?]
[1: Alpha and Gamma are empty, as are the quads on either side. It looks like Blue is set for expansion here, because the bays look like they're not finished. The next quad, Epsilon-Theta, is also unoccupied, which is unusual, but not unheard of. 2: When the hatches are closed, there's no way other than the boards to tell, barring physical examination from the outside.]
Solange stays close to Green Seven, looking for a place where she can watch what's happening on the dock without being noticeable herself. She's especially looking for a vantage point where she can see both Seven Beta and Seven Delta.
Solange finds a place to loiter and watch from Blue Seven, an unobtrusive place behind the construction equipment. There is a group of barrels here as well, although they have no labels on them. It would be pretty clear that she was watching them if she was found, but she's reasonably confident that she shouldn't be.
Solange walks past her hiding spot and, after she's out of sight of the troopers, doubles back and settles in to see what they're doing.
It does not take long for something to happen. The airlock of Green Seven Beta opens and two haggard men wearing ship's jumpsuits are brought out by a squad of four troopers. They look as if they're taking them to Ariel (or whatever ship is in that berth).
At about the halfway point, the first of the prisoners strikes one of the guards, knocking him down. The second immediately takes off running. His partner trips the other guards and the prisoner is well away before any of them can get up to pursue.
That leaves Duvalier and her two troops who are running after the escapee.
Are any of the troopers or Duvalier raising weapons to shoot after him?
He's running directly towards Blue Seven and Solange.
She smiles grimly. Of all the directions he could run...
Still down behind the barrels, Solange turns her back toward Green Seven and draws her knees up to her chin and hugs them tight. If she maintains a low profile, likely they'll all run past her and not notice she's there--assuming Escaped Prisoner decides to run around the barrels instead of plowing through them.
He doesn't really get much of a chance, as he's tackled by Duvalier herself before he reaches the Blue/Green border. The man needs a shave and a haircut and probably a bath, but he fights like a wildcat. Nevertheless, he can only hold his own against Duvalier and is no match for the two troopers who soon join her.
Solange sees it all through a small gap in the barrels. The stranger suddenly stops fighting. After a few more blows, the marines also stop, and pick up the man. They drag him back towards the berths. Solange sees them take him to Green Seven Delta.
She also notices something the troops apparently missed. The man dropped something shiny on the deck, just by the Green/Blue section hatch.
Does it look like they're all busy with the prisoners? If so, she'll take the opportunity to sneak over and pick it up.
The one prisoner is gone. The second was dragged to and passed through the Green Seven Delta hatch. The deck is actually clear at this time.
Solange manages to pick it up with ease. It's some sort of pendant in a dark, pewter-y metal hanging from a broken chain. The front has a symbol on it, a very familiar symbol to anyone who has spent more than a few days watching stationside local news on any of the stations of the Hub. The Iron Crown is the only decoration that relieves the matte black of the ships that attacked the Hub stations and cities in the Black Hole War.
Solange traces the outlines of the pendant with her thumb.
Yes..she remembers a vid she saw a few days ago detailing the history of the Black Hole War. Even though it ended five years ago with the destruction of the enemy base, still the occasional Iron Crown ship shows up out of nowhere, leading the Hub's navy to wonder if there's an undiscovered base out there somewhere.
The strange thing for the Hub denizens is that they still have no idea where the Iron Crown people came from. Not having previously met any extraterrestrial life and not knowing about the existence of other worlds, they thought they were all alone in their universe.
Well, Solange thinks, technically they may still be right. She suspects the Iron Crown didn't originate here. More specifically, she suspects it's a Black Road manifestation, a remnant from a war already over. The timing of the first attacks here would be about right, based on how fast this shadow is to Amber.
She looks up in the direction of Green Seven.
This would explain why the bastards on the ship in Seven Delta never showed. It's common knowledge that the Institute--the people she was suppose to meet with today that had the nanotechnology she wanted--is dedicated to the investigation of enemy technology. Apparently her interview was bumped in favor of transporting a few enemy prisoners. Wonderful.
Solange pockets the pendant and heads out through Blue Sector. Time to contact the Institute again. This time she'll show up on their doorstep instead of waiting for them to come to her.
As Solange heads away from Green on the seven docks, she notices a change in the ship's bearth board. Green Seven Beta is marked "scheduled maintenance" while Green Seven Delta indicates that Ariel is scheduled to arrive in 20 minutes, "arrival delayed", the board says.
Maybe this wasn't a wash after all. While hanging around waiting for Ariel to land, Solange hedges her bets and spends the time affecting probability within the shadow. While she walks around Green Sector, Solange concentrates on Ariel landing on time, her interview commencing as scheduled, and her interviewers looking upon her case favorably.
[GM note: Karen is talking with us wrt probability manipulation and she may ask the loggers to retcon a slightly different version of the paragraph above into the logs. Since none of those manipulations affect what happens next, it happens anyway...--GMM]
Based on a further explanation by the GM, Solange is just going to wait the twenty minutes out.
Precisely 21 minutes later, the board changes from "arrival delayed" to "arrived". Solange does not notice the typical microquake effact she's used to associating with a ship arrival at Hub City-Station docks. It's possibly the smoothest arrival she's ever felt. Either that or there was no arrival at all.
Hmmmph. Solange files that observation away should it be of use later. She walks out to meet Ariel, smoothing the annoyed expression on her face with some effort.
As Solange approaches the lock, it opens slowly. Two men in casual jumpsuits exit and head further into green sector. A cargoloader shows up near the cargo lock and starts typing on a keyboard there. The personnel lock is open to the ship, but no one else seems to be exiting immediately.
She gazes at the empty lock, the annoyed expression threatening to return, then turns to address the cargoloader. "Excuse me, but I have a business meeting with a Mr. Alvares from the Institute. Can you tell me whether or not he is on board Ariel?"
The cargoloader replies "je nes pas parle Thari", and calls out to another man who comes over. "I'm the purser," he says, stepping back from the busy cargo handlers. When you've explained your request to him, he tells you that Monsieur Alvares is indeed aboard, but that he is ill and unable to disembark due to station quarantine rules. His assistant Monsieur de Vega just left the ship and can likely be contacted through The Institute's on-station agents. He offers to take a message to Monsieur Alvares if you wish.
Solange is not interested in leaving messages.
"If Mr. Alvares cannot come to me, then I can certainly go to him. May I come aboard? I assure you, I will not overtax an ill man. It's a simple business meeting, only a few minutes, and he did express a strong desire to meet with me last I talked to him. I'm sure he'll approve."
All elaboration and conjecture, but maybe it'll get her on board. She smiles at the purser sweetly.
The purse frowns. "Monsieur Alvares is in quarantine, Mademoiselle. If you were to book passage, you could also join him in quarantine, perhaps. If he wished to see you. But if you see him, you cannot return to Le Cit d'Esperance." He looks at you as if sizing up your credit rating.
Solange returns the look, as if sizing up his balderdash quotient. She pulls out a large denomination paper credit from her inside jacket pocket and presses it into the purser's hand. She lowers her voice. "I'm sure you can bend the rules just a tiny bit, can't you? I only want to talk to him for a few minutes." Her fingers linger on his hand and she smiles sweetly again.
He speaks loudly, and to no obvious audience. "Have it your way, Mademoiselle, we will go into the hold and pick out your goods by hand. This way," he indicates the cargo hold and the men hooking up an automated track to a similar piece of gear stationside.
Solange follows him.
He leads her out of sight of the entrance, and around another turn in the rows of cargo cannisters. "Madamoiselle will, I hope, be so kind as to refrain from asking me to accept cash to violate station health regulations while we are on the open station dock. The fine if it was detected is a thousand times what you offer.
"Merely a token to express my thanks for a small service I presumed would be rendered to me. My sincerest apologies if I offended you."
Solange, at the moment, doesn't look very apologetic.
"No offense taken, Mademoiselle," he says, making the token disappear.
"Of course, monsieur is welcome to return the token, to expurgate his sterling soul from my crass presumptions." Her smile is less sweet this time and the sarcasm fairly evident.
He doesn't look very interested in returning it.
She's not surprised. Not worth it to her to push the issue.
"Of course, Mademoiselle could book passage for the Institute aboard Ariel for a special fee. After I show you the passenger lounge Mademoiselle might realize she needed certain goods from the station. And if Mademoiselle did not return by boarding call, well, it would be unfortunate that the ticket was non-refundable. However, when one has urgent business, the cost of the ticket is hardly worth worrying about, even if it is 700,000 credits."
[that's first class passage for 7 or 20 regular passages.]
700,000 credits. That must be one helluva in-flight movie. That's also a good chunk out of her account balance. She may have to finagle more money into her account before this was all over. Not impossible, but the more she mucked around with the system, the more likely she was to draw attention to her sudden balance increases.
Several unsavory words pop to mind. She's tempted to say screw to the whole thing, she'll take her marbles and play elsewhere, but the memory of Gerard in his wheelchair stops her. She's close, closer than she's ever been so far to finding technology that might actually work. She just needs to persevere and play their game a little while longer.
She schools her expression into something more pleasant and less indicative of what she's actually thinking. "What an excellent suggestion, purser. I wasn't aware Ariel was a passenger ship. Thank you for enlightening me in that matter. From whom do I book passage, the station or Ariel directly?"
[Solange would know that the Purser is a senior officer, reporting to the Captain. If Solange has looked into ship's organization, she would know that the purser is responsible for cargo, catering, and security, but not navigation or ship's maintenance.]
[Oops on my part. Might have worked better to try to bribe someone of lower rank. :-)]
"I can book passage for you, Mademoiselle. Would you care to step into my office? I can arrange the papers and you can transfer the funds to Ariel."
"That would be lovely."
The transaction goes as planned.
She tries very hard not to fidget while all those credits are sucked out of her account.
"Thank you Mademoiselle Serci, it is a pleasure doing business with you. I shall now ostensibly take you on a tour of the ship now, and will hold your cabin until boarding call while you conclude matters stationside. Come along and we shall see Dr. Alvares. He's waiting for you in the forward lounge." He rises and motions you towards the open hatch out of his office.
Solange steps out of his office. "He's waiting for me? Was this some sort of test to pass?" she asks bluntly.
"Mademoiselle? Of course Dr. Alvares knows you are here. We do not allow strangers aboard to meet with our passengers without their consent. Had he not wanted to meet with you, I would not have arranged it, even for such a generous passage as the one you purchased."
He steps out of the office and points down a corridor towards the center of the ship. "We are spun down, so please watch your step." If the ship follows normal design for this shadow, the central shaft will be weightless.
"And the quarantine story? A ruse?"
"Non, Mademoiselle. Just a bit different than you may think. Dr. Alvares has to stay aboard to see to a prisoner who is being transferred to the Institute. Forgive me, the personnel lifts are off during stayovers. We shall have to climb. Dr. Alveres can tell you more in a few moments, perhaps." There is a ladder ahead of you.
And all the pieces fall into place with an almost audible _snick_. She reaches for the nearest rung and starts her ascent, thinking about the man she saw captured. "How long are you planning to stay in port?"
The purser raises his eyebrows. "Mademoiselle Worth, while I can be convinced, for money, to violate station rules when they are stupid, you should not expect me to compromise the competitive advantages of Ariel. We shall be in port until we are ready to leave. It should not be long."
"I wasn't suggesting you change your schedule. I only wanted to know how much time I had. You can stop being paranoid because I have no plans to attempt to bribe you again. You're too dammed expensive."
He seems pleased at the last comment.
Solange swallows a smile. While some things certainly change from shadow to shadow, some things do not.
"Mademoiselle Serci should know that while Ariel is a Free Trader, it is primarily engaged in Institute business, some of which is urgent and some of which is classified. Unless you wish to use the ticket you purchased, you should be off the Ariel in 2 hours."
"Thank you."
She is silent for the rest of the walk, keeping her thought to herself and busy taking in the layout of the shuttle.
The walk becomes a climb/scramble up the central spine of the ship to the forward lounge. The purser leaves you at the door. There is a lone man in the lounge. He turns off a screen when Solange approaches.
"Miss Serci? I'm Mr. Alvares of the Institute. I'm glad you were able to see me, I was afraid I'd have to cancel our meeting. Tell me of this case you alluded to."
Solange reaches forward to shake the man's hand.
He rises to shake hers.
"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Alvares. May I sit down?"
"Of course, please sit." He gestures to the chair and, after she sits, he does so himself. "I can send for refreshment if you are thirsty, but we are on an unfortunately tight schedule."
"No, that's fine."
She settles herself and gazes at the man for a second or two, taking in his appearance and features before moving to answer his question. (What does he look like?)
A slight man with no more than a feathery down of black hair on the top of his head, a style that would have been considered old-fashioned closer to the Hub, but which is practical if you're frequently in a vaccuum. His jumpsuit is more functional than stylish, and his movements are very precise.
"It's my father," she explains. "He was in an accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down and in a great deal of pain. I am hoping your nanotechnology is able to repair the damage so that he can walk again."
"Hmm. Do you have any case files? Or pictures? I can tell you that there may be nothing we can do. There is also great risk. It is quite a bit easier to make a machine that builds an infinitely long rod than it is to design a machine that knows when to stop making a rod and make a reel."
"I don't have case files with me but I can have copies sent to your office. Can you elaborate on the risks? How does the technology work?"
[gulp. We'll see if I can elaborate on those two things...]
"This technology isn't well understood, Miss Serci. We have been working with volunteers, mostly veterans who are looking for some further way to serve, or who are willing to take risks. You understand, Miss Serci, that while this technology is the best and is years ahead of anything we had, it's...it's not completely theoretically understood. Our experiments at this stage are more a measure to help us build a theory than to attempt to prove a theory. We don't know enough to theorize yet.
"From a practical point of view, your father is valuable to us, because most wounds in space battles are either fatal or else cause total loss of limb. We have trouble with the technology where there is something missing. It's good at repairing what's broken, but it has trouble if there's no model to follow.
The corner of Solange's mouth twitches. "He was hurt in a cave-in, not a space battle. It was a...mining accident. Regardless, you are correct, both legs are still present."
"How much do you know about nanotechnology, Miss? It's not really what we've been telling people. Or it's evolved from that. We thought, ten, fifty, a hundred years ago that it would be self-replicating. And it is, but only in the sense of the greater system. It's so much more efficient to have one type make a second type that does than it is to have a machine that is programmed both to reproduce and to work.
"We have some controls, but our attempts to modify the basic model they had to make it match our ideas resulted in some...unfortunate consequences."
He looks grim.
She frowns.
"What we offer your father is a short life under the eyes of a score of doctors, each brilliant, each trying desperately to be the one who figures out how to crack the nanomachine problem. There's a small chance he'll just die, a large chance this will hurt him a lot for no gain to himself, and a tiny chance he'll get better. Why does your father want to take this risk?"
"I haven't talked to him about it yet," she answers honestly. "I'm only scouting out the possibilities. He wishes to walk again and I thought your nanotechnology could repair the nerve damage that resulted in the paralysis. Apparently I was mistaken."
Solange chews on her bottom lip briefly, thinking, then looks back up at Alvares. "You said 'the basic model they had.' Who is 'they?' The people on the iron crown ships?"
"I have not said that it could not, just that it may not. We do not want subjects with...unrealistic expectations. As to your other question, everyone knows that we captured quite a lot of technology from the black hole fleet."
Solange nods. "I meant no offense. I just need a procedure that has better odds of success than what you indicated before I suggest it to my father. So...what you're essentially saying is that you think the nanotechnology is capable of doing what I need, if only you understood it better?"
"I have no pride at stake, Miss Serci, I am a scientist, studying what we do not know is my goal here." He looks at her. "Are you clear on the potential outcomes? It may not work, it may destroy what functionality your father has left in his limbs, it may make him dependent on mechanical walking apparatus for the rest of his life, or the nanobots may not do what we expect.
"One of the first experiments was to try to make soldiers who lived through wounds that should kill them. There are several horrific cases back at the Institute. Men and Women who wish they had been allowed to die, if they have the ability to form coherent thoughts at all.
"Some things men should not live through, Miss Serci."
"Dr. Alvares, those potential outcomes you mention are _your_ potential outcomes." Solange looks at Alvares very directly. "I find myself wondering if the prisoners you took aboard your ship a little while ago can tell me about potential outcomes that are more promising than yours, given that it's their culture's technology. May I talk to them?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Miss Serci," he lies, coolly. "And now, I'm afraid I must go. Shall I call the purser to escort you out?"
Solange pulls the Iron Crown pendant from her pocket and holds it up for Alvares to see. "Your men missed this dropping to the deck in their scuffle to recapture the prisoner that tried to escape. Look, I'm not threatening you. I don't give a damn what you do with your prisoners. I only want to help my father."
His eyes narrow in recognition and his expression hardens, but he does not interrupt.
She replaces the pendant in her pocket.
"I hear that you're unable to understand them," she continues. "I have quite an ear for languages." Not necessarily true, but Solange is hoping the men--if they are a Black Road manifestation--might speak a form a Thari she can understand. "There's a chance I can communicate with them, and if I _can_ communicate with them, then you stand to benefit. Who do you think I want treating my father? Certainly not them. Any information I get I will pass onto you and you will receive the credit."
"I don't know who you think you are, or what you think your money can buy your way into or out of Miss Serci, but the Institute is cooperating fully with military intelligence and we have no intention of opening our investigation to unknown outsiders, no matter how rich they are. If you were qualified in xenolinguistics to the point of being useful, I'd have heard of you before. You should give me that pendant before you find yourself in serious trouble."
"Goodness, did I offer you money just now? I wasn't aware that I did. I thought I offered you information and the chance to claim the credit all for yourself." Solange tosses the pendant carelessly onto a nearby table, then stands and shrugs. "Very well, your loss. I don't think we'll have any future dealings with each other. You're too close-minded. Probably the military influence."
She turns to leave.
At the bottom of the ladder she is met by a Purser's mate, who politely directs her to the airlock and asks no questions. He follows her and cycles the lock, opening the inner door, directing her in, closing the inner door, and opening the outer.
Solange looks out at Green Seven, but finds the view blocked by two armored troopers, persumably from the same detachment she saw earlier. Their visors are black, so Solange cannot tell anything from their expressions. Beside them is the woman Duvalier, still in a simple jumpsuit. "Miss Serci? If you will please come with us." Behind her and past her two guards, the corridor is empty. It does not sound as if she intends her request to be optional.
"Duvalier, isn't it? So nice to see you again." Solange smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She takes in the sight of the troopers and the empty corridor beyond, and decides she's not going to get anywhere right now by resisting. "Very well. Lead on."
Duvalier smiles back, and it mirrors the Garnath girl's expression. She nods briefly and leads her towards Green Seven Beta's personnel lock. The troopers fall in noisily behind her.
Solange is led through the open doors of the lock and across a short staging room to an office of sorts. The ship smells of oils and sweat and acrid chemicals, all the smells that regular passenger ships keep away from the passengers. There is more activity aboard this ship than the others she's been aboard in this shadow, and it is significantly more cramped. The people aboard are either clearly doing a job or are doing nothing. The latter type stare at Solange as she passes. It's not clearly hostile, but it's not friendly, either. Some of the crew (or perhaps the passengers) have old injuries.
Duvalier gestures for Solange to enter the office. There is a chair and a counter, and emergency crash webbing on the wall. Duvalier gestures her towards the chair and pulls another down from the wall and sits.
One trooper leaves, but the second takes off her helmet and stands at rest outside the door.
"If you hear a klaxon Miss Serci, you will enter the crash webbing. It will protect you if we have to move quickly. I do not anticipate such an event, but we are required to provide a warning, in case."
Solange raises an eyebrow as she gazes at the webbing.
"Now. I am Lt. Marie Duvalier of Le Invincible, a starship of the Alliance Navy. You are being detained for questioning related to a breech of security relating to a prisoner we transferred to the Institute recently. You are being recorded for evidentiary purposes related to this breech. Would you care to make a statement Miss Serci? If so, please start with your arrival on Esperance Station."
My, but they are touchy about anything having to do with the Iron Crown, Solange grimaces to herself. So what to do now? Easy enough to trump back to Amber, but she'd lose all the ground she'd made by shadowwalking this far out. The trail leading to the nanotechnology is still here, whether with the Institute or the Iron Crown. Question is, will the nanotech do what she requires of it? Or will it be as unpredictable as the Institute claims? Well, she won't find out if she leaves.
"I do not care to make a statement at this time," Solange replies, sitting back in her chair. "I would like to see a lawyer."
Duvalier picks up her clipboard and stands. "I shall look into it, Madamoiselle Serci." Her smile is tight and she does not seem surprised. "I hope you will take some time to consider the disadvantages of an adversarial stance." She leaves, and the door closes behind her.
Solange finds herself alone in the small room. The door seems to be locked.
She will go try the door just to make sure. Assuming she does find it locked, she sighs and slouches back into her chair, hands joined together in her lap and thumbs twiddling as she stares at the far wall, considering things.
Assuming she's being monitored, contacting Father by trump and asking for advice is right out. Moving around the room and shifting the probability that the door will not be locked is conceivable, but there would be a whole slew of guards she'd have to avoid as well and she's not sure she can handle all that probability successfully. On the other hand, it would be action of some sort, as opposed to all of this banter and posturing, and that holds a certain appeal.
Solange reaches up and scratches her nose, then sets to thumb twiddling again.
She needs to get away from this military and the Institute. They're going to be looking for information on her, digging deep, and there's not going to be anything past a certain superficial point. This is going to make them suspicious and ask difficult questions that she won't be able to answer, which will lead them to further detaining her and possibly relieving her of her personal effects, which would include her trump deck. Things cannot be allowed to progress to that point. She cannot allow herself to be parted with her deck. Think. Is there anyway to save this situation and avert that outcome?
She could try to escape. Already nixed that idea. Too many of them and she doesn't have enough firepower to compensate.
She could submit to their questioning and allow herself to be processed and hope for the best. Perhaps the "security breach" questioning is really only a formality and within an hour or so she'd be free again. And maybe the Unicorn is really her fairy godmother in disguise and will show up at the last minute to wave her magic wand and make everything better again.
No, her situation here is blown. Even if she does manage to get through the questioning gracefully and is allowed to leave, they will monitor her movements and transactions in the Hub from now on. She could thwart them, but it would be difficult and she's not sure it would be worth the effort. It seems that the answers she wants are on the Iron Crown side of things, anyway, and approaching the Iron Crown from the Hub end of things will be difficult. At least in this shadow it will. A small smile quirks at the corner of her mouth.
Perhaps it's time to retreat and attack the problem from a different angle.
Solange casually reaches into her pocket and pulls out her trump deck, intentionally keeping a distracted look on her face, hoping they'll think she's looking for something to occupy her hands while she thinks. She looks down at the trump of Gerard, conveniently kept on top, as if noticing it for the first time. Solange, the distracted look still on her face, activates the trump and reaches out for the comforting presence of her father.
The image begins to form. Her father is in his office, and there's another presence dancing on the edge of her vision. "Who is it?" Gerard asks.
"Solange," she replies. "Pull me through?" Although her voice is steady, a note of urgency plays in the background of her mind.
Gerard says, "Yes," and brings her to him.
Last modified: 18 December 2004