Rick sat in a worn but still plush leather chair waiting patiently for his guest to arrive. He was somewhat nervous, though he had spoken to the man many times; this would be the first time they met in person. He wasn't concerned for his safety per se, more how this conversation would go. Disturbing a retired man rarely goes well. He made it a point to clear any contraband from this wing of the station, though he had a level of trust for the man he was waiting for; he wasn't about to tempt him with an easy charge if he wanted it.
The sounds of the station reverberated down the halls, even on a quiet day the noise from the numerous station bars alongside the reactor echoed around the interior giving a constant rumble that he just couldn't stand. He walked over to a wooden box with ornate carvings inlaid with Gold and Silver. Lifting the top revealed it to be an Antique Phonograph seemingly of Gallic make given the Royal Fleur-de-Lis emblazoned upon the inside the box. He lifted the arm and set it to play. Gallia may be a bunch of stuck up snobs but they have excellent taste in music.
He poured himself a drink, and returned to the chair to await his guest.
Of all the places to be called to, Trafalgar station was the last place he expected to be called to. It had been just under 2 years since he had been back to Bretonia, his brothers and he hadn't even bothered to look out the windows as they entered Cambridge. While Alfred took William, Alexandria and John back to their old home, Edmund and Victor continued on New London. The Liner lingered over the planet for what seemed like an age, with neither brother saying much, simply staring at the Capital.
I've always hated this place. Edmund said at long last, breaking the silence that had accompanied them from the Border. The rain just makes life hard. Everything is a grind...why did we come back? Victor stood next to him quietly for a few moments before letting out a sigh I don't know he finally said We are missed I suppose. Edmund said nothing and as the liner slowly began it's final approach, both returned to their seats.
The terminal was largely empty, save for a few domestic and private yachts, theirs was the only interhouse liner for the moment, and the pair soon managed to find a small table in one of the teahouses. They looked around, watching the other passengers wander about the terminal. Most were professional, and likely on New London for work or business, but there was the odd aristocrat floating about, even some Kusarians, but It wasn't long before Edmund had to leave. O'Brian wasn't going to wait forever, and although Edmund would preferred to have stayed in Rheinland, he did agree to meet her in person. They bid each other farewell, and Victor watched his brother disappear into the crowd.
Now alone, Victor lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before blowing out a ring of smoke. He repeated this a few more times before standing up and walking down one of the private causeways to a slightly rougher part of the terminal. Eventually he came across a group of people all chatting and leaning against the walls or sitting on the floor, the causeway leading out into what looked like a long forgotten transport terminal. He kept walking before being stopped by a middle aged woman covered in tattoos and stained with grease.Not so fast friend. This is a private hanger, no outsiders. She said as she raised her arm to block him. I'm expected my dear. Came the quiet reply Your boss was quite keen I pay him a visit She eyed him for a few moments before her scowl turned into a grin, A thousand credits will see you safe and sound friend... Victor cocked an eyebrow. Stunned at the audacity, amused by the cheek. He wordlessly transferred the woman her money, and she took him into the hanger.
A rusting hulk that may have once looked like a transport was her idea of 'safe and sound', if Victor didn't know any better, he'd have accused it of being an oversized coffin. Throughout the flight the whole ship groaned like a beast in agony, the few lights that actually worked sparked and flickered and they traveled via the trade lanes to what was once Southampton Shipyard. Twisted and broken bits of metal still serving as a hellish reminder of the Gallic breakthrough from Leeds.
Soon his destination came into view, Trafalgar. The landing was rough and the air was foul. Another thousand credits went just trying to find someone to direct him, finally a young man took him to the Arbiter. He was abandoned just outside the door by his guide, and to his surprise, there was the soft sounds of music coming through the door. Victor didn't bother knocking, he was slightly more interested in finding out what had Rick so jumpy, even if the journey to get here was longer than expected.
Mister Tiltman...Rick, how very nice to see you again, my friend.
Tiltman took a sip from his drink, the music only did so much to calm his nerves. He knew what he was doing was taking a big risk, he knew calling on Victor he had better have a good reason to do so. Suddenly the door opened and in he walked, "Mister Tiltman...Rick, how very nice to see you again, my friend." Friend, such a simple word, but carried a lot of weight. Rick doubted that Victor would understand how significant that was, as a Junker you didn't have many friends you had Enemies and Business partners and many times the only difference between the two was how many credits were recently deposited into their account. While those who flew for Congress had the benefits of Legacy many independent families were just as likely to be killed as they were to be paid by the very criminals they worked with regularly.
Rick stood and crossed the room to shake his hand. "Apologize for the sudden summons, I hope you understand that I wouldn't have called if I didn't believe it was important but first," He gestured to the bar behind him "Would you like a Drink? Gin and Tonic? I have Rheinbier as well if you prefer, oh and I still have that Vodka had to go back to the original supplier though. He shrugged "Eh, what are ya gonna do. Please, help yourself."
He thought about how to begin pausing a moment. "So, I called you here today because things in Bretonia, and Sirius at large, are unfolding rapidly and not in ways I am entirely comfortable with." He grabbed a remote from a side table clicking it twice bringing up a display with a Video feed ready to play "Jonas Hudson, I am sure you are familiar with him, a well known Privateer and Embargo enforcer sent this transmission about 3 days ago"
After playing the transmission he flicked through replies to the feed. "Now, as you know in my line of work getting involved in this sort of thing is not something I do, it's bad for business you know? Unfortunately, if the Gaians are willing to do this on Gaia what might they do on a planets like New London, Harris, or Sprague that would be considerably worse in the concerning chance they decide to deploy this 'Bacteria' against anyone that crosses them. I know we've found ourselves on the wrong side of the Gaians after supposedly "Mishandling Radioactive Material" even though we followed all House and ALG protocols."
He sat back, hoping Victor would take this as seriously as he expected. While Rick had read people from Malta to Crete and every god forsaken crevice in between but he never liked dealing with these intelligence types they rarely showed any reaction no matter how grim the news they received even if he did call himself his friend.
Victor watched the video with interest, listening to Hudson speak about this suspected 'bio-weapon' whilst holding a a Liberty ale in his hand. Several things struck him as odd, first of which was the issue that Liberty ale seemed much more palatable than Schnapps. The second was that Hudson, one of his own, was now a Junker. That was certainly a surprise, but what could he say about what the man said? Were the Gaians about ready to commit genocide? Many questions raced through Victor's mind. He steadied himself with a slow drink and moved to sit opposite Tiltman.
Hudson was one of my best agents you know...back during the war. He would often turn up in strange places and give all sorts of information about where he'd been and what he'd been up to. In many cases, when I flew around personally, it was he that served as my protection.He paused, taking another slow drink from his glass. He waved his hand dismissively, regardless of what's going on, what do you want me to do about it? I'm retired. I don't have any say in Parliament or the Military now, the SIS was disbanded and I went home. So even if I wanted to help, I'm really not quite sure what you expect me to do.
Rick was dumbfounded, before him sat one of the most if not the most powerful man in all of Bretonia and he was acting like he was a common peasant. Did he not know what weight his name carried still? Was he unaware of the commemorative Parks, Roads, and even Small planetoids that were named in honor of the Steiner Families service to The Crown?
Are you joking? "I don't have any say in Parliament or the Military now, the SIS was disbanded and I went home." He said mockingly. If you think for one iota of a minute you couldn't request a meeting with Carina herself and have it within a day you clearly are not the man I thought you were.
While Rick knew this was a long shot he needed this meeting to go well. What Victor here didn't know was this was a power move. With the Marauders recent dissolution it left Congress operating as the dominant power within Junker Society. LPI was always easy to pay off, Rheinland police were so tied up dealing with the Red Hessians recent gains within Rheinland, Gallia and Kusari were straight up hostile territory courtesy of the Hogosha and their Corsican pawns which left Bretonia as the only house he needed to get into his network. Once Congress had free reign of Bretonia able to flash "SIS" protection to get away with most low level crimes and anything on the pricier end was usually given a slap on the wrist with their disbandment, Congress began having run in after run in with the BPA who's Crown Loyalty and incorruptibility was so nauseating to Rick it nearly made him physically ill. There was no price a BPA officer was willing to take to let you go with crimes and it often ended with multitudes of Junkers serving sentences in Newgate for "Smuggling" Guns, what kind of nation bans guns anyway? He needed the SIS back, he needed Steiner. He had to do something, and he had just the idea.
I see this isn't going to get your attention, so do you have time for a trip? There is something I'd like you to see.
Victor nearly choked after hearing Tiltman mock what he'd just said. He set the glass down and leaned forward. His anger at being accused of cowardice becoming evident within a moment.
Let's get me be very clear. I didn't call you, you called me. You're the one who brought me here, to this place, dragged me here from the other bloody side of Sirius! To show me 'something', the gaians, being the usual fanatics they are. What I don't want you to tell me is that you called me here just to call me a coward!
He stood up, his anger not subsiding much, if at all. He liked Rick, far more than he probably should, but he'd be dammed before he let himself be insulted personally for taking a back seat in House affairs. And I would like to point out, Carina does not answer to me. If you're so worried about the Gaians call the bloody Armed Forces. What do you expect me to do anyway? Reform the Service? Track down every agent who is still alive and send them back into the dark hellish world that is espionage? I think you overestimate my abilities.
Now he relaxed slightly, he grabbed his drink, finished it and sat back down. Victor didn't like getting angry, but there were days, unfortunately.
Rick smirked, that was the man he knew. He stood up and walked over behind the bar and pressed a button with the a label "Lux" next to it.
For a moment I was worried you had gotten soft, you make a good point though we should take this meeting on the road. You didn't have a set time to be home right?
He walked over to the door holding it open for Victor behind him.
And to answer your question, yes, actually I think that would be a great idea. Now grab your things we have a shuttle to catch.
He rolled his eyes. For crying out loud. How is it every time he travelled nothing simple every happened. Why does no one feel the need to just invite him to the pub? Or go for a walk? Or just come around and have a cigar? How it is that it's always some world ending stupidity that some asshole has concocted that for some God-only-knows why reason, results in someone calling him to deal with it? He stood up and followed him, less than happy about the situation but willing to go along with his friend.
Rick took up stride next to Victor, they made their way through the halls passing the Junkers that extorted him on the way quickly looked not realizing who this well todo man was meeting with apologizing to Victor and greeting Tiltman with a notable amount of respect. They headed through the dark maze of hallways down to the lower shuttle bay where a number of ships were waiting. The only two being prepped for flight were an old extremely rusted Rhino that was likely an original model that has been held together with welding, duct tape, and no less then 3 prayers. The other, was a a CST-010 "Dorado" OSC Ferry that could have just come out of a showroom it was so pristine. Rick stopped about halfway down the hangar with Victor at his side. He looked at him who's face said it all, a grimace of disgust as he stared at the Rhino clearly not wanting to get in but expecting to none the less. He called out to one of the technicians:
Is .:j:.Stagecoach ready for flight? Yes sir, .:j:.Stagecoach's preflight checks are complete and .:j:.Camp.David is waiting just south of the Field fueled and ready for the voyage. Excellent, thank you for quick prep on such short notice, get you and your men a round of drinks and put them on my tab.
Rick moved toward the Dorado, opening the passenger hatch before turning to Steiner, What? Did you think we were taking that? He points at the Rhino Get in, we ain't got all day.
Relief washed over Victor's face. True, he didn't want to fly in the Rhino that looked like it had a run in with a meat-grinder, but he would have endured, barely. He sat next to the pilot seat as Tiltman fired the ship up, it's engines purring like a kitten and they slowly left the dock. You've obviously planned this trip, and so fully expect me to come back into Bretonian politics, so tell me, what has happened while I've been gone...while we have been gone. You understand, if I'm back...we all are.
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