Meeting on Fontana

[Bristol Constructions]

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Vascoguoncellos, Pantalião
Fontana Freeport, California System
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He’d never quite enjoyed Fontana.

It had proven to be a useful enough place to move items here and there, to get information, to make contacts when needed. It proved useful by virtue of its location and its operators. Its location was just so to access Liberty, Bretonia, Crayterian Coronado, and now even into Ontario’s Liberty Free Republic. Its operators were notionally neutral, though the Xenos provided enough muscle, law, and regulation to the lawlessness that it was useful. If it were otherwise, he’d consider the location a lost cause.

And yet, he’d never quite enjoyed the Freeport. It was dirty and stayed dirty. It was stained and stayed stained. If anyone had tried to clean it they would find grime on paint on rust on nothing, cleaned it until nothing was left but ghosts and stories. It was watchful, too, always watchful. If he’d not trusted the Xenos, he’d never come in the first place. And yet, it was useful. If it were otherwise, he’d consider it another Montezuma.

Pantalião Vascoguoncellos had landed at Fontana before, in the past, though always under different names. That it was now far closer to his own name, or at least that name which he could now live under, was an abnormality born of that prior conversation with Cobra. The man seemed competent enough, even if he was a snake in the grass. Vascoguoncellos paused in his sip. It had been such a stupid way to end a conversation. Fortuna. As if anything was like that here. As if. A pang of regret at this misstatement. A pang of annoyance at his incompetence. It was very, very stupid. It was also something that would remain in that conversation and go nowhere else.

Now he was waiting on another. An associate of Michael Bartlertt’s, one he’d know would land by the word of the docks. At least, that was enough of the plan.

“Small crew and roots in the Commonwealth”, and the man captained an Arbiter of all things. It was curious and curious. What exactly did the man want with Bristol, that he could gain while not making mention of his resources so? What exactly did the man think Bristol was, that it would not look into him? It was strange and sad. He took another sip.

Yet, there may be something the man could say. All Vascoguoncellos could be certain of was that he would come, and they would talk, and something may come of it.

He took another sip, and waited.

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