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“...with this victory, the Consortium will
assist those of lower planets in
need, no matter their alliance or planet
of origin...
In a balcony
attached to
a side office overlooking the auditorium, a young lady lets her green
eyes
slowly close into slits. She leans back in her chair and lets it hit
the wall
with a muted thud, causing the
textile wall decoration above her to bounce.
“...pledge
hundreds of thousands of currency to quiet the rebellion
on Preshea outreach...”
Her eyes open
slowly
while her hand sleekly reaches for a pen resting nearby and quickly
jots down a
note. A quiet thump draws her vision to
the front of her office, where a veiled red head is softly closing
the door, try
as hard as she can to not disturb anyone. The entrant removes her veil
and
faces the
balcony’s occupant.
“Kna’dehkc, My
Lady.”
She speaks barely above a whisper. The
girl sitting at the balcony nods to her
and pats the seat next to her with one
hand while holding the paper pad with the other. “We could have
elected worse.”
The red head gives her Lady a warm smile.
“Yes, but he is
still
crooked enough to hide in the shadow of a corkscrew.”
The lady runs her hand
through her hair,
working out a few knots that had formed from tugging.
“Kieran,
open the door,
I can’t get it.” A chair squeaks as a man no older than 24 looks over
his monitor,
he eyes pausing on the desk next to his, then to the door. He stands
after a minute and tugs open the
door to his office with a grunt. Another
young man steps in while carefully
letting the door close with a
slam behind him. He strolls to one of the desks
and lets a box of paper fall onto it, pushing several folders
and a nameplate
that reads “Triad Daneal Deltab” off the desk and onto the carpeted
floor.
“What’s all that,
Daneal?” Kieran returns to his seat and eyes the beat up box Daneal had
carried
in.
“Read outs. For
Grace to
look through and make sense of.” He takes his own seat and snatches up
the
fallen nameplate and folders.
“She may be a
while. She
had to attend the High Counselor’s acceptance speech today.” He turns back
to
his monitor to continue
working. He stops and strokes his chin.
“She’s in a foul
mood
too.” Daneal, who had picked up a folder and was looking through it
with his
feet
resting on his desk, glances up at Kieran.
“I would be too
if I had
to sit through that nearly everyday.” He shrugs and reads again. “That,
or you
know, drunk.”
“Absinthe
and a wine glass filled with ice please.”
Grace
shifts into a comfortable postion on a velet stool
as the bartender prepares
her drink. Ignoring him, her eyes glace
around the crowded froyer. They stop
on
atall redheaded male making small talk with several other men. He meets her eyes and gives her a
friendly
smile. A cloud crosses her face and she
turns back to the bar.
“Your drinks, madam.” The
bartender slides two glasses in front of
her as she pays him. After taking a
sip
of her drink she bites into a chip of ice.
“Did my
speech bore you, Lady
Grace?” She does not bother turning to look at the speaker, instead
opting for another drink of her Absinthe.
“Let’s say
that I haven’t been
this bored since I read one of Kieran’s research papers on the
importance
of
Skylark Fruit Flies.” She takes a bite of ice cube. “...Varus.”
“Ah, our
friend Ares. I hear his
research papers are quite detailed. You’ve taken the wrong career path
if
you
didn’t want to be bored.” She peers over to him, a dark marring her
pretty
features, which he ignores
it as he takes the stool next to her. “Bartender, my
usual please.” He turns back to her “No
congratulationson my successful
election?”
She
finishes her drink. “No.”
“...How
charming.”
“You and I
both know you didn’t
wade through your congratulators just to harass me about my career
choice.”
“Deltab
was right; you have quite
the sharp wit.” Varus smiles and receives his drink from the bartender.
“Not to
mention your tongue. No wonder he promoted you to Head of Intel after
Ishmael
left. Which caste
was it?” Grace’s lips
pulse.
”Vanguard,
and don’t say his name
around me.” Silence,.
“I came to
enquire if a decision
on my offer of...”
“Varus!
Sir!” Varus swivels in his
stool to see who had called his name. Upon seeing a young man in a
Consortium
uniform, Varus salutes in greeting. Grace, ignoring both of them, sets
her
empty cups onto
the bar and fishes through her purse for a tip for the
bartender. “Sir, Q wants...Am I interrupting something?”
“Lady
Grace... Fa yna myda.” A
blond, tall male approaches Grace, his head bowed in respect.
“Oac, uv
luinca.” She stands,
elegantly slipping the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “I was
just
leaving.” With a nod to the blond male, she leaves, shoulders held back
with
him following. “E ryja
ajanodrehk E ha’t.”
“Do you
know her, sir?”
“Not as
well as I should know a rival.”
He reaches down to take a sip of his own drink to find it not where
he placed
it. He glares at the bartender for removing his drink before he was
finished
with it. The bartender
shrugs, busy with other customers on the opposite side
of the bar.
“What are you planning?”
The blond man walks
beside Grace, arms crossed behind his back. Grace stops
and presses the
elevator call button before giving him her answer.
“What
makes you think I’m planning
anything at all?” She asks and takes out a compact decorated with
roses and a
tube of lipstick.
“You lick
your lips a lot when you
are deep in thought.” He coyly watches Grace apply her lipstick.
“Shut up
Dante.” She closes the
compact and slips both it and the lipstick tube into her purse. The
elevator
opens it doors and several formally dressed men push their way past her. After it empties, both enter the
elevator.
She presses the 33 button.
“Why do
you need to go to the 33rd
floor? That’s a cafe floor.”
“Simple-“
She slips a card key out
of her sleeve and slides it into the elevator slot as it passes the 20th
floor and onto the 21st. Grace arches an eyebrow at
Dante as he
stumbles as the elevator stops. “I don’t.
Hold this.”
She hands him his purse.
“This
doesn’t go with my shoes...”
She jabs him in the arm as she fishes through it to find what she
needed.
She
lays out a compact of loose facial powder and the brush that goes with
it. From
her uniform sleeve,
she takes the glass that Varus had just used. Dante smiles
and shakes his head.
“Chaygo...”
She grins up at him
before opening the compact and swirling the brush in it.
“He drinks
straight Gin.” She
spins the glass in her hand looking for the print she wants. “No elegance
at all in
straight Gin.” Taking
a roll of clear scotch tape from her pocket, she smoothes a piece of it
over
the print.
“Whatever
you’re planning, it
can’t be good. Or legal.” He watches her hands as she pulls the tape
up. She
smoothes another piece over the sticky side of the print and than tapes
that
piece down to her thumb on
the
outside of her glove.
“Just
planning a small visit.” She
reslides the keycard, and presses the ‘door open’ button. “Have the
rest
of the
afternoon off. Have a cup of tea at the café. May I suggest the house
tea
tonight?” Dante gives
her a questioning
look, than one of desperation at her purse that she left him holding.
She waves
at him as
the elevator doors close. “I hear the house tea today is passion
fruit.”
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