The room was dark, as it had been for some years now. An evenly thin layer of dust spoke of its disuse, and that it was a place that had not been seen by the eyes of man for quite some time. One of the few remaining working screens, still supplied with power, began to hum as electricity began passing through its display. A message popped up on that dim and lonely screen, the scant light it was producing being scattered by the kaleidoscope of particles that had settled on its surface.
Quote:Hello there, "Titanium".
Further to our conversation in space yesterday, I am writing to you to extend an offer of employment on behalf of Agency 404.
As I explained, the conditions of your employment are negotiable. Name what you need, and I will tell you if it's possible or not. Amnesty for certain individuals, credits, housing and so on are all on the cards. We want to do all we can to secure your employment with us.
The Agency needs somebody of your skill and expertise, with particular knowledge of the Bretonian and Gallic regions. As I said earlier, we do not currently have many field operatives at all, but neither are we in any rush to expand our agent base by sacrificing the quality of who we employ. You have a reputation for getting things done and being very efficient about it, despite the fact that it may have brought you into conflict with Liberty in the past.
As we discussed earlier, my agency and I are happy to employ you because of, rather than despite, your history. All we ask is that you are committed to Liberty, and the Agency, now and in the future, and above any other parties that you might have loyalty towards.
If that is not a problem, name your price. What can the Agency do for you?
The hotel room was sparsely lit, already screened for potential electronic recording devices. Her data-pad kept feeding data as she looked at it, a software backdoor retrieving all the information coming from the control tower nearest to her dinner location.
Her bionic eye reflected the light of the data-pad back, and she remembered how good and how dangerous it was. She quickly switched it to a simple prosthetic one. Not that she awaited problems during her dinner, but the security all over that zone was immense, and explaining the why basically a small processing ocular unit with recording capabilities, several vision modes, zoom-assisted with integrated aiming software to her bionic arm, all that with the Hellfire Legion stamp of production.. Would be essentially a problem she was not interested in dealing with. She knew her bionics would be screened from head to toe, but luckily, the rheinland military-make arm and leg was one of the best, and something a rich woman in her position would get.
The data-pad beeped indicating a new message. Her lip formed an almost imperceivable smirk after reading it.
And she quickly writed the reply, not risking a full on video transmission.
As i said, i have a debt to pay. And a strong Liberty benefits all around it. Right now, Bretonia is fighting an attrition war that is unable to win on it's own. Gallia has reached Magellan, and are now regarding the battered BAF as an annoyance on their flank. Do not kid yourself with reports of their supply line being stretched thin in the near future. Such will not happen if the forces present in Bretonia and in the Taus do not join together in concerted efforts to disrupt it. Without that, Liberty will bleed in men and hardware, as Bretonia did. Will it stop the Gaul Invasion? Probably yes, since you have finally ended that silly war of yours with Rheinland, and are now rebuilding your military with battle hardened men and women at the helm.
But i digress. All i have to say is yes. I am committed to help Liberty to be even stronger than it is today. I am committed to help your Agency achieve that. And i am committed to use all my assets to do so.
And my assets are considerable.
All i ask is, do not let Bretonia weak to a point that common pirates will prey rampant as vultures around the carcass of a once great and good Empire.
Sonja was busying herself at her desk, her office building in a small unassuming part of an otherwise irrelevant Manhattan suburb. There were plenty of tasks to complete, and with the high priority message that had just reached her inbox, one more. She had scanned the reply once, and then again just to make sure. The next step was to forward the reply on to her superiors.
Moving over to an electronic fax machine of ludicrous age, she punched in the numbers for the board of directors and forwarded the message on. She returned to her desk and sat down, once again busying herself with all of her outstanding tasks. A couple of hours passed in silence, broken only by the scratching of a pen and taps on a keyboard, before the fax machine whirred to life. It creaked and strained against the thin paper to which it was writing the directors' reply.
When she pulled away from her desk and went to retrieve the answer, she had to stop herself from exclaiming her frustration. The directors had been very concise in previous correspondence and instructions that they had sent her way, but she had truly underestimated the level of autonomy she would receive when she had accepted her position. The reply was:
"Accept her conditions"
She heaved a sigh out of her small frame and set to work trying to tempt one of the most dangerous individuals in Sirius to work for Agency 404. Pausing for a brief moment, her fingers began to clatter against the keyboard.
Quote:Hello again, Miss Dagon.
I'm glad to hear that you are prepared to join the Agency, provided that your conditions are met.
Of course, I did explain during our meeting what our previous position on Bretonia was, and that she needed only to continue to stand while the war between Gallia and Liberty has yet to be decided. I'm sorry that this rubbed you the wrong way, although I can understand why such a utilitarian approach would.
However, your offer has changed our position on this matter. The Agency's directors have advised me to accept your conditions. Bretonia has stood with Liberty for hundreds of years as a friend and ally, whereas the other houses have had changeable positions based upon expedient political winds. A strong Bretonia has never been a threat, unlike Kusari and Rheinland.
To be frank with you, our agency can never place strengthening Bretonia above strengthening Liberty. I have already told you personally about some of the connections that we are trying to build with the power players outside of Liberty's borders. However, if you are happy to accept this, I can say that we will modify our strategic objectives regarding the south-western sector to be one of a return to the predominance of the force of law, and the strengthening of the Bretonian throne. If you have something else in mind, that's fine too. We can be flexible if it means gaining your personal services and the use of the remaining assets at your disposal.
This change will stand for as long as you are a part of Agency 404. If we come to the end of the contract, where you are to retire after successful service or you part ways with the Agency by mutual agreement and on good terms, it will become our permanent position. For the sake of clarity, if you breach the terms of the contract between us, for example by leaving prematurely or acting against the interests of Liberty, the position on Bretonia will revert. My directors and I feel that this is all the collateral we need to ensure that we work together successfully, as the fate of Bretonia is very important to you. Obviously, if the Agency breaks the terms of her agreement with you, the same will apply. After all, contracts are binding to both parties.
Meet with me soon if this message meets with your approval. The location should be at a time and place of your choosing. We can discuss in person the more benign conditions of your employment, for example if you require housing or anything else.
Kind regards.
Sonja Kerensky
Sonja leaned back in her squeaky office chair, puffing her cheeks out. It was surprisingly difficult to write to a powerful free agent, who had told of her hand in the destruction the Liberty Dreadnought Panzerfaust, flagship of the Liberty Navy nearly a decade ago. It was hard to believe that Sirius contained people more dangerous than herself, and it made her feel a sense of apprehension.
After reading and re-reading her message to Kaze, she tapped the dispatch button. It seemed very risky to reach out to somebody who had made a name out of preying on Liberty in the past. Then again it was easy to understand why her directors were seeking out such individuals. A collection of dangerous people, committed to a singular cause? That would be an unstoppable force.
Smoke from her cigarette filled the hotel room. The hours to the dinner were counting down. Everything was ready at last. The dress. The ID. The transport. The three exit strategies. She had left in the dawn, when the security was the most relaxed, to scout the location and leave some prepared hardware if need should arise. This was her way of thinking. This was her way of life. Even now that she had found her true path. Even if her objective was a good one.
Her data-pad beeped with the familiar tone indicating a new message. She opened it and left her new decoding software, written by a Kusarian genius in Ames, to do its work. New tools. Same principle.
After reading for a while, she kept smoking, thinking. She was now alone in this game. There was no lead. Just herself, like all those years ago. Dangerous times indeed. She finished her cigarette, and grabbed the data-pad. Her clock was ticking and she would have to leave early in the dawn to head back to Bretonia. That war would not stop for her. She looked at her old contact list. And sent a small message, one that would probably shake the small world of that snivelling excuse of a man. The meeting place would be prepared. She then accessed Kerensky's message. With a determined thought in her mind, her fingers started writing the message.
I accept your Agency's terms.
I will be free in 11 hours. California Minor. White Mountain FOB. Ask for Mitchell.
With regards, Kaze Dagon
She placed the data-pad at her side and decided some sleep would do well for her. She eyed the door and windows, assuring herself the small explosives were set and live. Kaze then grasped her old LSF gun, and clicked the security off. The electronic humming of the batteries being charged was a sound that gave her the comfort needed to close her eyes.
The sun rose on Manhattan, hues of red and orange streaming through the small windows of the office floor on which Sonja slept. There was a mattress and a duvet of course, but not much else. Sleeping at work wasn't a habit of hers, but she needed to be there to receive the reply when it arrived. Typically, it was the middle of the night when that happened, but at least it was good news.
Now it was time to rise, and rise she did. She blinked a few times, wiped the sleep from her eyes and then set about her next task. Reaching into a cabinet on the far side of the room, she pulled out a sledgehammer almost as long as she was tall, and trudged back to her desk. She swung it nonchalantly, overarm, smashing the head against the fax machine which immediately exploded into the tiniest little pieces of printed circuit board and plastic casing. Repeating the process until there was nothing left except a pile of debris, she moved on to her computer desk.
When all was said and done, there was only stacks of paper, plastic particles and other random items that needed to be disposed of. Once again, she visited the cabinet at the end of the room, this time rolling out what might have once been an oil drum, rusty and topless. Wheeling the drum over to the debris, she placed some plastic gloves over her hands and begun loading, piling it on high with paper, plastic and PCB. Brushing her hands together, she removed her gloves and once again returned to the cabinet of dreams, withdrawing a small canister of flammable liquid. Unscrewing the top, she began pouring it into the drum, the quiet glugging noise echoing around the floor.
It was much easier to destroy things based on old technology and paper, than all the state of the art interfaces, where every action was backed up in twenty different locations and two separate clouds. Going to all this trouble wasn't usually required, but Kaze was the kind of person whose existence alone would cause a storm in Liberty. The best course of action was to try to keep it a secret. It couldn't be a secret forever of course, but it wouldn't be for lack of trying. As her agency was still in its infancy, the cost of what she was about to do would put a pretty big dent in their budget, but the potential gains were too high to ignore.
The last step was an old, battered lighter given to her when she had begun her stay in this office. She took it out of her inside pocket, lit it up and threw it into the drum. Flames flickered happily around the paper, thin wispy smoke rising eagerly to the ceiling. The water main was already disconnected when she had taken up residence, so there was no chance of sprinklers dousing the flames. Before long, the fire would become an inferno engulfing the small, slightly decrepit building in which her office was located.
Sonja would already be in space by the time that happened though.
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