Bretonian Armed Forces Defense Intelligence Staff (DIS) (iRP) (AO)

[pbrione]

--Roppongi Station, New Tokyo System--

The MI7 agent stood in his office, facing the window that looked out over New Toyko. He looked tense, the lines in his face indicating a definite lack of sleep over the past few days. He looked round as his secretary entered the room with the morning's post, laying it on his desk in a neat pile. With a brief nod of thanks, he quickly lowered himself into his seat and began to search through the pile of letters and papers. Finally he found what apparantly he was looking for - a small brown envelope which he promptly sliced open with a knife. Inside was, strangely enough, a flyer advertising Tohu Sakosu's Flying Fish Sushi Bar on New Toyko. Frowning slightly, he turned the flyer over to look at the back, where the restaurant's menu was printed. For some reason someone had circled the "Koolong Fish Platter - 149 credits" in black pen.


--Tohu Sakusu's Flying Fish Sushi Bar, Planet New Toyko, One hour later--

"Konnichowa sir, have you selected your dish yet?"

"Yes...I'll have the Koolong Fish Platter please."

"Koolong Fish? Ah, yes. Excellent choice sir. Most exquisite delicacy, most rare. Caught fresh from Planet Junyo each day, cooked live, and served whole - the entire fish is edible, right down to its eyeballs..."

"Ah, *cough* yes. That sounds delicious," looking down at the price as the waiter walked away he added to himself "and for 149 credits, it had better be worth more to me than a tasty meal..."


--13 minutes later--

He looked down at the grilled fish lying on a plate before him, eyeballs and all. Looking around furtively, he made a cut with his knife, and pulled out a chunk of the rare Koolong fish meat, covered in purple scales. He put it in his mouth and chewed hard. "Tasty," he thought, "but I don't really see how this is getting me anywhere." Wondering for a moment if the flyer had simply been a random advertisment rather than a coded message, he proceeded to eat his expensive lunch. Suddenly, he looked down in surprise. There, in the very heart (or stomach) of the fish was something distinctly odd-looking. Making sure nobody was looking, he pulled it out carefully with his fingers. It was a tiny scrap of parchment that had apparantly been rolled up and fed to the fish when it had been caught on Planet Junyo. Ingenious! Carefully unrolling the tiny piece of paper, he observed a faint scribbled message:

Escape planned Sunday 2300 GMT
Need: transport, diversion of KNF, disabling of prison security
Weakening daily - this may be only chance,
Nelson


--Moirisu's Pottery Workshop, Planet New Tokyo, 20 minutes later--

"Ah! My friend, it has been a long time since your last visit, come, come let me make you some tea, or do you prefer Sake now? heh."

"Not now Moirisu, there isn't time. Listen...I need a special commission. I have a message to deliver."

"Today?"

"Yes today. I need it delivering to Mrs Dolores Henderson on Manhattan by 5 p.m. Manhattan time."

"Do you really need to go to all this trouble?"

"Moirisu, you know how difficult it is to get anything out of Kusari these days - those cargo scanners at the border gates can detect almost anything, and since yesterday the KNF are monitoring my broadcast channels - it seems they were able to aquire a copy of my codebook from Yoko's body. I can get the codes changed, but there isn't time! Here's a list of exactly what I need......


--52 Trent Street, Planet Manhattan, 4.5 Hours later--

Dolores Henderson, an elderly woman of 67, looked down at the card in her hands in some confusion. She read over it one more time. "For your charming daughter on the occasion of her wedding. My heartfelt regards, an old friend." She looked up at the delicate glazed Kusarian vase filled with bright red flowers, which had been delivered along with the card a few minutes earlier. The delivery-boy said that he did not know who had sent them, other than that they came from Kusari. Mrs Henderson looked round as her daughter came down the stairs and entered the room.

"Jessie darling, do you know anything about this? These flowers came just now, it says they're for you "on the occassion of your wedding," but that doesn't make sense, why, you've been married nearly 15 years!"

"Hmm. Strange." She looked over the card and flowers. "I wonder if Mark might have an idea. I'm on my way to pick him up now, I'll take them with me. Ha, perhaps its another one of his jokes..."

Scooping up the vase of flowers and the card, she headed out for her Starflier at the nearby shuttle port. Her name was Jessie Beaufort-Barrington, and if the parcel had been addressed to her rather her mother, it would surely have attracted more attention from the Kusari border guards. For her husband, Mark Beaufort-Barrington, was a senior Bretonian Diplomatic Officer. He worked as a Naval Attache at the Bretonian Embassy in New York, and this was where his wife was now flying to meet him, with the Kusarian vase safely in her cargo-hold. The instant Mr Beaufort-Barrington saw the vase of red flowers and read the peculiar message, he knew what they meant. Taking the vase and rushing back to his office, he tipped the flowes and water into a bin, pulled out a hammer and carefully fractured the vase along one side. As the two halves fell apart, there on the inside ceramic, carefully painted into the pattern in a pale blue paint, done in a way that no scanner would detect it as an anomaly, were the following words.

Nelson Plan's Escape Sunday 2300 GMT
Request diversionary attack on Kyushu
White Rose


--MI7 Command Centre, Location Unkown, 5 minutes later--

".......dot dot dash, dot dot dot, dash dot dot. That's it sir. That's the end of the transmission. Our contact at the Embassy has confirmed the message."

The older man looked down at the decoded message before him. "Good god. Call up New London at once, maximum priority."


--Bretonian Defence Intelligence Staff HQ, Planet New London, 2 minutes later--

The officer looked up sharply from the bank of monitoring equipment he was working, clutching a print-out sheet. "Sir! Leuitenant! This message just came through from MI7 Command." The young Leuitenant swiftly scanned through the 3 short lines and decided that right now he didn't much want to be stuck with responsibility for such a message. "Ensign Rogers! Get this message up to the Fleet Admiral's Office NOW!"

"Yessir!" Squeaked the tiny Ensign, and sped off down the corridors with the sheet of paper flapping in his hand...

NELSON PLANS ESCAPE SUNDAY 2300 GMT
REQUEST DIVERSIONARY ATTACK ON KYUSHU
MI7

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Sir Stanley Nelson




<span style="color:#000066">Charles Canning </span><span style="color:#000066"> Foreign Secretary</span>