Taken at Toronto

[Manticore]

Planet Los Angeles
Friday, March 13th, 822 AS

A rain squall was blowing in from the coast, gradually darkening the Los Angeles afternoon sky as it approached. The planet was known for its beaches, sun, and high-class living, but none were in evidence here. This was, if not a slum, certainly far from the nicest neighborhood Los Angeles had to offer. Not terribly far from one of Ageira’s major optical chip factories, the area was home to a lot of blue-collar workers and their families.

The skyline was dominated by a white apartment building, sixty stories high and roughly the same number of years old. The building had never been luxurious, even in its heyday, but it was still functional as living space. Since it was the middle of the workday, the halls of the building were quiet.

The forty-second floor, in particular, was no different - aside from a hooded figure, large enough to definitely be male, huddled over one of the doors. His hands - encased in thin black gloves, placed a small device into the side of the door’s simple electronic lock, and a moment later there was an audible click as the lock released. With practiced silence, the hooded figure reclaimed his device and slipped inside the apartment.

Even compared to apartments on space stations, the interior was cramped. It was a studio, with a small kitchen tucked into the back wall and a plush-looking bed to the right. The whole place managed to strike a strange balance between clean and messy, where things were spread around haphazardly yet the space itself didn’t seem cluttered or dirty. It maintained a sense of vague femininity.

The figure scanned the room, searching for something in particular. Stepping over to the bed, he picked up a large photo album, the size of one of those doorstopper old-school books that were still so loved by lawyers and admirals. Flipping through it, the figure scanned the pictures and souvenirs, outlining much of the life of a particular person.

Dupuis, Ontario, frequent visits to family, Liberty Navy…

Reaching the end of the album, he carefully returned it to the exact position it had been originally and then picked up a small datapad.

Logging in was easy - the resident foolishly saved all of her passwords and credentials locally. The figure scanned through her infonet account in the same meticulous manner that they had just scanned the album. Messages from a number of friends - mostly fellow Navy officers. A few names he recognized, in fact.

He examined the last conversation, between the resident and her sister. The sister was studying law at the University of Toronto, on Toronto Station in Ontario. She had invited the resident to visit her there on the weekend, and the resident had accepted.

Next, he carefully prepared a message from her account, taking great pains to duplicate her writing style and format. He queued it in the system for upload to the Liberty Navy Reporting Center at a precise time in the future, and then hid the message from appearing anywhere she might look.

The figure carefully restored the datapad to the exact state he had found it, and then returned it to the nightstand. Silently, he slipped back out of the apartment, re-locking the door as he exited.

Two blocks away from the building, he lowered his hood, revealing a handsome face, sharp blue eyes, and carefully groomed facial hair. He stripped the gloves from his hands and deposited them surreptitiously into a public wastebin, then resumed walking at a brisk pace. Once the resident of the apartment finished her eight hour patrol, she’d be off to Ontario. He would be there first, waiting for her.

---

[Manticore]

Ontario System
Friday, March 13th, 822 AS

His Guardian exited the lane, and he turned his head to gaze at the huge shape of Toronto Station slightly to his left.

The station was one of the largest in this sector, housing several thousand people in several massive wings. The hustle and bustle of this area of space made that evident - supply runs from Los Angeles and Denver were frequent, as were raids by the Lane Hackers. Security had been beefed up in the surrounding space in recent years, and it was clear that Ontario was quickly becoming more of a core system for the Libertonians.

Using thrusters, he kicked his ship closer to the station. "Toronto, this is Navy Zeta four-dash-six. Requesting permission to dock."

The response was swift. "Navy Zeta Four Six, you are cleared to dock in Bay Eight Charlie," the voice had a distinctive smooth accent, not unlike many Gallics. "Welcome aboard Toronto, Commander." A nice personal touch.

"Thank you," the Commander replied. He pulled the stick around and started guiding his Guardian towards the indicated bay. It was a short flight, and the bay doors yawned open in advance of his arrival.

With practiced ease, he maneuvered the fighter through the outer door, then the inner door in turn. The docking back was spacious and brightly-lit, with a number of other small ships parked in neat rows. He parked his Guardian in line with several of the others and powered down. Through his ship's uplink to the station 'net, he requested refueling and launch prep services for the ship.

With that finished, he popped the canopy and exited the ship. Slinging a small black bag over his shoulder, he began walking deeper into the station, ducking between and around parked ships. Once he got clear of the bay, he slotted into some foot traffic headed for one of the major lifts that constantly moved between the various decks of the huge station.

He boarded a lift, along with about twenty other people, and headed upwards. A computerized voice on the lift sang out each deck they stopped at, and he half listened until he heard something that caught his attention.

“Deck twenty-two: University of Toronto, student residences, museum of art…”

He slipped through the crowded lift to exit directly onto this deck’s through way. He immediately noticed that the crowd here was significantly younger than he’d seen elsewhere. From his abbreviated research on the flight over, the university here was small but growing - beginning to draw enrollees from around Liberty. The law school in particular was apparently quite good.

A few minutes were spent wandering the halls of the campus, getting familiar with its cramped but tastefully decorated space. The school took up basically the entire deck - between classrooms, lecture halls, office space, and student housing. Students roamed freely in small groups, and he supposed he could pass as an older student.

Once he was comfortable with the layout, he took a seat on a small bench in the vicinity of the law school classrooms. Pulling a small datapad out of his pocket, he opened up the picture of the person he was looking for - his target’s sister. He looked at her face once again to refresh his memory, then sat back and slid the datapad back into his pocket.

He slung the bag off his shoulder and reached into it, pulling out a small unmarked book, bound in leather. While glancing up at the faces of the students who walked by, he began to read.

Hélas ! vers le passé tournant un œil d'envie,
Sans que rien ici-bas puisse m'en consoler,
Je regarde toujours ce moment de ma vie…