Devil at a Crossroads

[Soban]

Freeport 11, Station Block C, Level 7, Secure room 1

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Jonathan took a moment to study the man before him, striving to form a clearer picture of who “One” really was. His chosen alias, Kaspar, hinted at Rheinlandic origins—something worth looking into, especially now that Jonathan had a face and a voice to accompany the name. No doubt station security would have a detailed file prepared soon enough.

He stood, extending a firm handshake while holding steady eye contact—or rather, contact with his remaining eye. The sensor encased in his sealed eye socket didn’t register anything unusual. As they shook hands, Jonathan responded in his usual measured, resonant tone—each syllable carefully enunciated, underpinned by a gentle yet unwavering authority.

“Welcome aboard Freeport 11, Mr. Kaspar. The pleasure is mutual, though I assure you I’m no legend. If anyone’s legendary, it’s your group and the reputation you’ve made for yourselves in the Omicrons.”

He gestured toward a nearby chair. “Make yourself comfortable. Zoner diplomacy can be rather convoluted, riddled with enough subtleties to make these meetings drag on.”

Settling back into his seat, Jonathan tapped on a holographic tablet, projecting a list and a chart showing the various vessels currently docked. An uncomfortably high number of Corsair ships occupied the docking bay. Despite maintaining a level voice, a faint note of irritation underlined his words.

“I suspect our main topic today is how to rid ourselves of this parasite.”

Another tap on the tablet brought up a second chart, this one illustrating local sentiment among Freeport residents.

“As you can see, the Corsairs are already stirring up trouble, pressuring us into allowing them to dock. Since the incident at Freeport 9, every Zoner here is tired of them. With a bit more collective effort, we could reestablish the ban on Corsair vessels.”