Returning after the Portus Valentium Attack
- J. Joseph
- Sep 27, 2024
- 8 min read
Leaning on her new cane for support, Project Manager Eliza Clark limps her way into her boss’s office. The office of the Head of External Affairs. She makes sure to knock before entering, so as not to disturb any secret meetings or naps that Nigel might be taking.
It takes a moment before the voice of Nigel Kinsley replies, “Come in.” Seems he was doing something. She opens the door. No one else here, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t in a meeting. There are plenty of ways to have meetings that don’t involve people being in the room. She walks over and can see the large man wince. Her injuries were not insignificant, and she hadn’t wanted to get any cosmetic treatment. Not yet, at least. The wounds might be useful in further negotiations. At least, in further negotiations through this vein, though after dealing with whatever nonsense this attack is about, that calculus will likely change. “Eliza,” Nigel greets her, “What happened? Did Astro attack you?”
Eliza thought for a moment, on how honest she ought to be. She decided to stick to the pertinent details. “Not likely. Astro sent their Junior Vice President, Adone Sanna. The one that flirts with people like he’s a Luxanian diplomat.” She can tell Nigel does not recognize the name. Not important enough to reach his desk yet, which means he was probably not the target of the attack. “Mister Sanna and I were well into working out the details of a joint control and operation agreement for several of the systems we’ve been coming into conflict over, and they seemed amenable to compromise though oft irritated at the details. We received a lot of pushback over the Astro mining colony that we quietly purchased the mineral rights for. Evidently that was their latest expansion opportunity, and one of Mister Sanna’s primary objectives was to make certain they reacquired the rights, and so I was utilizing that as a bargaining chip for some access to other border system revenue streams.” Nigel is nodding, filing these things away. He might seem woefully uninformed, but Eliza knows that is merely a front. Nigel Kinsley is one of the greatest careerists of all time, and on matters that could affect his future job performance, there are few people who stay better informed. Hence why she felt that his lack of knowledge about Adone was significant. “Then the window broke and there was an explosion. It didn’t look like Alastair was moving, and I was in shock, then pain. The woman guarding Mister Sanna, shot the armed Freeporters who looked ready to kill us and asked if there were survivors. I suspect she was worried about either herself or Astro getting blamed, though I cannot be certain. Either way, she picked me up and all but carried me to the Fortune’s Curse. Killed several dozen people who seemed intent on killing us along the way, mostly people who’d already been there on the walkup, acting as dockworkers. We took off in the Curse and escaped, thanks mostly to allowing Paul to let loose. I vomited once, Chief Martelli thrice. Though mine did have some blood in it, I suspect that was merely due to the injury, not Paul deciding to use the station’s outer mesh as a high-speed obstacle course. We met up with the ASFS Scudo della Divisa at a pre-established rendezvous, and she transferred back to her ship with the promise of a report. She believes it was Lux. I’m not sure.”
“It wasn’t Lux,” Nigel replies.
Eliza cocks her head. Nigel smiles. “Luxania’s meeting with the Service was similarly hit recently. They all survived, because the Service brought their last loyal monster along as a bodyguard.”
Interesting information. Reminds Eliza of an old story, a diplomatic boogeyman that her old mentor told her about. An anti-corporate unification movement out of Marauder space. “Doesn’t that remind you of those old stories? I believe it was called the Inception, or Insurgence, or Incursion?”
Nigel frowned. “I hope not. If the marauders are uniting for another Insurgence, we could be in some serious hot shit. Especially since those shipments of our advanced stealthware systems went missing flying near Marauder space.”
“So, not only do they seem armed with a mix of Lux and Service weapons, you’re saying their ships could be kitted out with our stealth systems?” Eliza asks her boss.
Nigel shakes his head. “Again, I repeat, I hope not. I assumed it was just standard criminal elements that took out the New Williamsonville. Pirates planning on selling to smugglers. Marauders would make it my problem, technically speaking, so I started to keep track. And there were other similar attacks. If you’re saying this is an organized Marauder movement, I’m going to need you more than ever. We’re going to need a ceasefire to deal with those fu-” He pauses, corrects himself, “Individuals who are bad for business.” His expression changes. He’s thinking. Plotting.
“Can’t meet in a Freeport again, it was too easy for them to infiltrate. Too controlled of an environment.”
“Then we do what you’ve already done once. Have a rendezvous coordinate set and meet there.”
“It would only work if everyone trusts that everyone else wasn’t involved in the attacks on them, and I’m not positive that will be the case.”
“I’m sure Luxania and the Service know what happened on Valentium, just like I know what happened on Ortuum,” Nigel offers as support.
“Not who I was worried about,” Eliza counters. “Marietta seemed certain of Luxanian involvement. I suspect she has had Lux assassins strike at at least one prior negotiation. If her bosses believe her, I doubt they will risk coming to the table.”
Rather than respond to the substance of Eliza’s words, Nigel smirks. “Marietta?” he muses on her informality.
“Shut up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nigel acknowledges Eliza’s reply and moves on with his train of thought, ”I’ll send out couriers to everyone reporting the attack and our suspicions. Lux and/or the Service will reply in kind. That should be enough to convince Astro to join once Li suggests a meeting. And then I propose a deep-space coordinate rendezvous and you take care of the rest.”
Eliza nods. “I hope that works,” she says, standing back up and leaning on her cane. Nigel stands and opens the door for her. Even with him standing as tall as he could and her leaning heavily, he was still not taller than her. Few people are. She limps her way out of his office.
The courier correspondences would take at least a month. Until then, she could not have repairs done on her skin. Instead, she will simply go on a vacation. And hopefully put the most troubling element of the attack out of her mind. The element of the attack she decided wasn’t relevant for Nigel to know. Only one person could help with understanding that bit.
It just so happens as she’s heading to her car, her fellow Project Manager, Michael Nash, is heading for a local diner. “Mike,” she says to get his attention.
Mike stops, turns, and smiles. “I’d ask about your meeting, but those burns speak volumes. Wanna grab lunch?”
Eliza forces a smile. “I’d love to chat, sure.” She walks with him over to the diner.
Mike loves terrible food. Always has, as long as she’s known him. Something to do with his upbringing, he claims, though Eliza always suspected it was more to do with other people in the corporate structure’s reaction to being taken out to greasy diners. They both order, and Mike’s smile drops. “So, you wanted to talk?” he asks.
“Funniest thing. As I’m sure you can tell, my meeting with Astro was attacked,” she began.
“Really? I thought Nigel just finally got up the nerve to use his secret personal flamethrower.”
Eliza smirks. “No such luck. But during the attack, while I was being escorted away, I could have sworn I recognized a face. But Hannah couldn’t have been on Portus Valentium, right? Because Hannah is in prison.”
Mike’s uncomfortable reaction says everything before he starts talking. He holds up a finger as their waiter brings their platters over, saying to him, “Thanks, now if you don’t mind.” The waiter nods, taps something on the side of the booth, then walks away silently. “Sorry, I’d prefer some privacy for this. There may have slightly been a bit of a breakout, and despite her being officially in her cell for check in every day, none of my, let’s call them friends, in the prison has seen Hannah since.”
Eliza frowns. There was no report of a breakout. Though she knew about Hannah, she’d checked the records privately the moment she had arrived back on the planet. “Why didn’t you, or anyone else for that matter, tell me?”
“Because officially speaking,” Mike responds, “I’m not supposed to know. Insec is keeping it in house and real hush-hush. I just happen to have more friends who find themselves incarcerated than the average middle manager.”
Eliza’s frown fades, but it’s replaced by a furrowed brow. “Why would Insec care to keep it quiet? Hannah breaking out would cause a stir, sure, but they would need, well if we’re honest, your help to have any chance of catching her.”
“You flatter me,” Mike lies. They both know Eliza’s right. Mike had trained Hannah in the art of disappearing, and there were few people who would have the slightest chance of tracking that woman. “But I figure she’s not the priority. Perhaps someone slightly more problematic than our favorite murderer slipped through the cracks.”
“Really?” Eliza counters, “Who could have gotten out that’s more problematic than your old, rabid hunting dog?”
Mike’s face dropped into a well practiced look of sarcastic offense. “I wouldn’t call her rabid,” he began, and slowly as he finished his joke, a smirk crossed his face, “After all, you don’t seem to be foaming at the mouth, and I seem to recall that she bit you plenty.”
Eliza could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. Every urge in her body says to get out of here before giving Mike the satisfaction of her reaction. But then another thought surfaced. That’s what Mike wants her to do. Why else bring up her relationship? He didn’t want her pressing on the bigger priority. “Who is it?” she asked quietly, her cheeks still flush.
He pauses, eats some more of his burger, then says the worst possible answer. “Newman.”
“No.”
Mike shakes his head. “No one else in protective or gen are missing that anyone would care about. Some thieves, one ex-pirate, nothing terrible. Which means it’s one of the three permanent solitary detainees.”
“Do you know it’s Newman, or are you just guessing?” Eliza presses. Any other answer would be better.
Mike shrugs. “Call it educated guessing. Bill Fredericks wouldn’t have this sort of issue, he’d be caught too easily. Marv Haggard could in theory, but I’m not sure how well he could orchestrate the breakout. Which leaves Newman.”
“Well, so much for my spa trip,” Eliza complains, “He knows my standard corporate aliases.”
“You could always do it under your real name, or one of the aliases Hannah knows,” Mike half-jokingly offers, “Then there’s a chance they both show up and kill each other for the privilege of killing you.”
“Thanks, you make me feel so safe.”
Mike sighs, his smirk briefly dropping. “Seriously, though, you good? I can find you a spa if you really need it.”
Eliza shakes her head. “What I need is your help finding Hannah.”
Mike’s smirk returns, much to Eliza’s chagrin. “If you really need to get laid that badly, I’m sure we can find someone who doesn’t dream of slitting your throat while-”
Glaring at him, Eliza cuts Mike off before he can finish voicing that wildly inappropriate thought. “I want her to kill Newman for me. Call it for my peace of mind.”
He nods. “Okay, I’ll start feeling things out.” Then he raises his eyebrows, “But what about after she kills him?”
“Anything between us is none of your business,” Eliza objects, “You can be there when we turn her in, nothing else.”
Mike shakes his head. He’s not smirking, which somehow is even more unsettling for Eliza. “No, I don’t care about you sleeping with her. I’ll make fun of you for it, but I doubt that will stop you. We both know how you are around strong, violent women. I care about that other bit. You see, I really wouldn’t mind having my rabid dog back.”
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