As his ship slid elegantly into one of the docks of the Freeport, Portus Ortuum, Provost Marshal Commodore Alexander Li watched every passing ship with suspect interest. Luxania had requested a meeting, after near a year of subtle prodding of Service supply lines. They had continued to manage to evade the Service’s searches and sneak their ships in, meaning they had successfully stolen some advanced prototype of one of Astro’s PI lines. Li did not know why, but this sudden meeting was a concerning turn of events. Something changed. Something that he didn’t know about. And his job was to know everything there was to know. He sighed and said aloud to his small police unit, “Alright, keep her warmed up in case of trouble.” Then, he looked at his Service assigned bodyguard for this event. The rules of the meeting that the port set were straightforward and logical. One bodyguard, no battleships in the system. The Provost Marshal had requested a large portion of the fleet be just outside the system, in case this was a declaration of war. Instead, they’d temporarily reassigned Albert to his detail. “Ready, Sergeant Spitz?” he asked the massive man.
“Fuck you, Xander,” Albert complains, then, grumbling as he stands and heads towards the airlock, “Got pulled off of fun shit to babysit the cops.”
After the attack, the Director was slow to point fingers. Slow to act. The investigation had been simple enough. The wake left by whatever destroyed Listening Post 74 was well hidden, but clearly led in the direction of the Service. Instead of acting, though, the Director and her bosses, in their infinite wisdom, decided to have a sit down. Portus Ortuum was all too happy to offer up their conveniences to avoid a war. The Freeport alliance is like that when it comes to overt inter-corporate violence. Something about being stuck in the middle of it or the sort. As he walks through the Freeport’s conference hall, towards the elevator, Commandant Kevin Kelsey looks around the room. The freeport is preparing for some trouble. The usual fair is gone, and in the corners, dressed as casual visiting types, are professional muscle of some kind. So they really don’t think this is going to go fair. As he climbs into the elevator, his guard saddles in next to him. “Remember,” Agent Odette Olivier reminds the Commandant, “This isn’t a declaration of war yet. We need to prod them into giving us information.”
Commandant Kelsey nods. “Yeah, I know,” he says, his voice exasperated. Like his bosses, Agent Olivier doesn’t understand that against the Service, you need to act swiftly and decisively. He doesn’t blame them, they’d never fought the service. Clearly, they didn’t study their history, either. “I’ll do my job,” he adds, to appease the woman, and the powers that be to whom she reported everything the Commandant did.
At least he got shoved onto Xander’s cop detail. The short, brutal man was the Service’s primary face towards the other Corporations. Which means his detail got to deal with the shit as much as a normal op would. Just with more corporate jargon. And, unlike some of the young, new officers, he understood war. Proper war. He’d been a kid during the last one, drafted into the ranks of the service out of Secondary Education. He fought in the shit, quickly became a sergeant, then as the war began to wind down into a slow, grueling stalemate, the Service noticed the kid’s eye for detail, and moved him into the MP division. Within a few months he was in charge of his own unit, and that unit became quite efficient. And, while Albert would never admit it to the man’s face, he was good at his job. When they made it to the conference hall’s elevators that became evident. “Be ready,” the short, middle aged man warned the monster, barely a whisper.
“Hm?” Albert questioned without opening his mouth. His NPC was already going into the system to find the cameras and keep an eye on everything.
“Twelve plainclothes gambling on the ground floor and our dock workers were all hitters. Something is going on,” Li explains.
“I’ll keep an eye out. Or my partner will,” Albert says with a smirk. The elevator opens.
As they wait for the other party, with a freeport representative seated at the table already, Agent Odette Olivier tries her best to keep her concerned look to herself. It wasn’t unusual for the facilitators of meetings like this to have guards around. It was for them not to have any civilians. Which would put Kevin on edge. And why, in their infinite wisdom, the Director had assigned Kevin to this mission, she has no idea. Even when not edgy, Kevin had a track record of aggression over subtlety. Odette shudders to think what he’ll do now, on edge, if anything goes at all awry. In front of them, the elevators open. Her concern continues to grow. The sight of the elevator is like something out of a cartoon. A short, reasonably attractive, stocky man wearing a mild grimace with a hairline that looks like the letter M is standing outlined by a massive, hulking figure. If she hadn’t met Zhihao once, she might have been surprised. Clearly, Kevin was. He’d never met a monster, only read about them.
“You must be the Provost Marshal of the service, Commander Li?” Kevin says politely, though he gets the name wrong. Odette suspects the mistake to be intentional, to see a reaction.
It gets one. “It’s Commodore,” the Provost Marshal retorts, “Commandant Kelsey. I suggest you remember that.”
“No need to be rude, Provost Marshal,” the massive man says as the Commodore Li seats himself at the table. “I’m Sergeant Spitz.”
Odette smiles at the man. “No, he’s quite right to be upset,” she says, “Titles are important to remember.”
Kevin nods as he, too, sits down. “Agent Olivier is correct, of course. I do apologize,” he replies, not meaning a word but at least looking the part.”
“What is this meeting about?” Commodore Li asks.
Kevin forces a smile. Odette begins to sidle around the table to get a better vantage point of both the pair of negotiators and the security types around them. Albert mirrors her movements. Kevin answers the Provost Marshal, “As much as I requested otherwise, Luxania was wondering why you seem to be making moves to break the treaty?” He puts emphasis on Luxania, to indicate he, personally, does not care.
“That’s rich, coming from Luxania,” Commodore Li replies, also emphasizing Luxania. Uncertain why, but that is concerning. Are the bosses doing something they haven’t told us about?
Beside her, she hears a deep voice say, “You weren’t surprised by me, earlier.” Albert had moved all the way to standing beside her.
“Why would I be? Each party was permitted a single bodyguard, there was a solid chance the Service representative would be a monster,” Odette answers honestly.
“Yet your commandant was surprised by me,” he insists.
Odette smiles. “He didn’t know what to expect,” she explains, “So he wasn’t underwhelmed.”
“Underwhelmed?” Albert says, holding back a chuckle of surprise.
Odette simply nods. “I may not have the most experience with your types, but from what I know, you’re kinda short, and small.”
Him, short? It takes a moment for Albert to recognize. This Odette knows either Private Xin or Private Chan. Yawen is off doing her little independent nation moment, so it’s probably Zhihao. “You know Zhihao,” he says, “How is my second favorite alcoholic these days?”
She shrugs. “Wouldn’t know, really. I actually just know Andrew. Which means I’ve met Mister Xin.” She puts emphasis on the know. Albert ignores that, she’s trying to get a rise out of him. Andrew, who is that? Right, the skinny kid that broke Zhihao out of the prison complex that Hadrian designed special for him. Gambling type. Also, if the Service psych profile is right, the know emphasis might not have just been a play for reaction.
He smiles and begins to reply, but stops himself. Movement on the first floor cameras. They shut down the system, or at least they thought they did. It took his companion all of two seconds to backdoor reboot it without informing the main security desks. The plainclothes types that Xander had pointed out on the walk-in were readying themselves. Arming themselves. Not Freeport armaments. His smile drops. He scans the weapons of the other people in the room. Also not standard Freeport arms. He should have seen it, but he was too focused on the expected threat. He can tell that this Agent Olivier noticed his change in demeanor. Mentally, he has his companion send a message silently onto Xander’s negotiating tablet. One word, that the veteran Commodore would know immediately the concern. ‘Insurgence’.
“We both know, this is exactly what you wanted,” Commodore Li insists, “You’ve been urging us to go to war for months, you just hoped it wasn’t against you.” He’s leaning forward, jabbing an accusatory finger at the spy across from him.
“So you admit it, you are trying to start a war with us,” Commandant Kelsey shoots back.
Leaning back, Alexander shakes his head. “I did not say that,” he says, trying to center himself. It’s only then that he notices his tablet. In small text, there is a message from Spitz. Curious, he could have just said something. One word. Insurgence. Without showing anything on his face, Li leans back again. “You might think that, but we did not start anything,” he adds, trying to gauge reactions without revealing any change. He glances around. The representative of the Freeport seems relaxed, in spite of the accusations. This Kelsey seems genuinely upset by whatever situation he believes is happening. The Agent of Luxania has her attention focused on Albert and the rest of the room, following the monster’s own attention. The rest of the guards are tensed up, ready for something to happen. Their stances are wrong. Spitz was right. Of course he was. The Provost Marshal knows that he can’t start anything. If he did, he’d be the first target of the Agent. He knows the Sergeant won’t start anything. That might get in the way of the negotiations, which is key here. Instead, as much as he disliked the idea, Alexander just needs to wait. He gives the sergeant a look of acknowledgement and leans forwards once more, so his stocky body hides the fact that he’s readying his gun.
The asshole is getting worked up, thinks Kevin. Admitting to things. Not yet a motive, but he does seem to believe that Luxania started it. But there’s something else. A tension. Like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. With just his eyes, he glances around. Everyone else, save the Freeport Rep, is tense too. Something’s about to happen. He feels like he’s missing something. “What, no response, no witty rejoinder?” The Provost Marshal prods. That’s not right, he’s supposed to be the one prodding.
“I don’t need to waste one on you,” Kevin says with a smile as his eyes continue to dart around to find any sign of what has people on edge, “Though your apparent need of one is noted, officially.” Then he sees it. A glint, out the window. An object flying towards the conference room. He makes eye contact with the Commodore, then very intently moves his eyes in the direction of the window.
The Commodore also looks, nods, and says through gritted teeth, “Your observation is noted.” Interesting. The commodore believes the freeport reps are behind this. Six seconds. Commodore Li seems to grip the table. It would protect them from the debris. He slides a hand under it as well.
“It’s always nice to be noted,” Commandant Kelsey says with a smile. Four. Three. Two.
As though it were planned in advance, the two negotiators flip the table on its side, diving for cover behind it. Odette notices the flip and drops down. Hopefully it will be enough. As far as Agents the Director assigns, she’s a nice change of pace from most of the sociopaths who choose that career path. The missile hits the window and it explodes inwards. Sergeant Spitz says from the other side of the table, “You still think I’m small?”
Kevin hears Odette’s voice. “Yeah, but thanks.”
Commodore Li pulls his pistol smoothly, shooting one of the guards as he readies his rifle. Kevin pulls back his two palms, and fires bullets out of each of his wrists at two more guards. In seconds, the ones on this floor are dead.
“The fuck’s going on?” Kevin asks the Service rep.
Commodore Li shoots the burned and mortally wounded Freeport rep in the head as he stands up. “Someone’s pushed the Marauders too hard,” he says grimly. “It seems the Insurgence is back.”
Commandant Kevin Kelsey may be young, but he’s read enough to know what that means. “Well, fuck,” he mutters as he stands up, then looks over at Odette. She’s standing as well. The terrifyingly massive Sergeant Spitz seems to be lacking in the clothes on his back department. Burned off by the explosion. Agent Olivier seems fine enough, a few cuts, nothing more. “Ready to fight an entire station worth of hostiles?” he asks his bodyguard.
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