Private Act As If You Do When You Don't

[Noema Kintar]

SOUTHBREAK ANNEX S-4
"THE QUIET DOCK"
NEW STERANDEL
2148 LOCAL TIME
​

Officially, Dock S-4 didn't exist.

Officially, there was no landing bay built into the Southbreak storm barrier of New Sterandel, Aegis, between desalination towers 4 and 5. On the maps, on the plans, on all the paperwork that existed, the area was a maintenance area, large enough to land a cargo vessel to offload parts for repair and maintenance of the desalination plans that lined the storm barrier, but nothing more. Officially, the air traffic control center was merely a watchtower with communications facilities to keep low-flying vessels and ships from crashing into Southbreak.

Noema Kintar had arrived via Utility Causeway D-3, a tunnel that ran along the interior of the barrier, providing access to each of the desalination towers, and Annex S-4, ushered there by a cadre of strangers. She wouldn't have gone if Reima Vitalis hadn't commended her to their care. But if Reima told her something, that meant she could take it to the bank. The small electric tram whirred into a slow deceleration and then, with mechanical precision, eased to a halt outside a broad door marked ANNEX S-4.

"This is where we leave you," the lead functionary said. The other, who hardly ever spoke, held out Noema's duffel bag to her. The first man said: "Good luck."

"Thank you," Noema said automatically. She took the duffel and without so much as a how-do the tram was off again, whirring efficiently as you like down the tramway. She watched until the running lights were out of sight, and the red lighting, which lit up in sections as the tram passed through them, clicked off, leaving only the dim amber of the lighting above the door. She walked up the little ramp, but before she reached the door, a ventilation system rumbled robustly to life. She dropped her bag reflexively, left hand going to right ribcage, right hand to where the her jaw hinged.

But her pulse spiked only briefly. The uncomfortable tightness seized her chest only for a moment. Reluctantly removing her hands, Noe took a breath and picked up her bag, pointing her shoulders at the door. It opened as she approached. Her eyes traced "the Quiet Dock" and its perimeter before she went over the threshold. One safe exit -- the way she had come in -- was apparent. A second, in a pinch, the gaping maw in the wall opposite that would allow egress of the capable freighter that currently sat cattywampus on the bay floor, the only way it could fit in a hangar built for smaller craft. Mist -- maybe steam, or maybe discharge from the hydraulic coolant pumps -- billowed from the underbelly of the ship, swirling around the struts, emanating out across the deckplates, giving an otherworldly kind of vibe to the whole scene. Lights were kept low and amber, the better not to draw attention.

She had barely stepped away from the threshold when another tram came whirring to a halt.

A pair of men in non-descript coveralls disembarked and entered efficiently. "Excuse me, ma'am," said one of them. He grasped one of the pipes and yanked it, guiding it back towards the receptacle on the wall where Noema had shifted. She stepped in the other direction, back toward the door, while the second man pulled another hose out of a hidden panel and inserted it into the ship at another place. The smell of industrial fuel stung at Noema's nostrils.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the first man said, once more standing before her. She stepped back the other way and the man pulled a panel of the wall open to reveal a folding-down computer keyboard and monitor.

"If you wouldn't mind, ma'am," the second said, "protocol requires we keep the entrance clear."

"Will I be in the way if I stand over there?" asked Noema, trying not to sound irked -- or worse, embarrassed. She gestured with her chin to a spot by the open bay, near the entrance ramp of the vessel.

"Should be all right there," the second man said, then seemed to forget her as his earpiece flickered with blue lights. He turned to the first man. "H.R.H. inbound. Get ready."

Noema tiptoed across the landing area to the spot she had indicated and half-turned, her shoulders pointing squarely at the door she had entered through. The sea breeze from the sea ruffled her hair and her blouse. She absent-mindedly touched the silver pin on her left collar lapel, her fingers brushing the face as if to confirm that it hadn't fallen off.

It never fell off.

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

George was dressed in something unassuming and nondescript. Dark, comfortable (perfect to run in if necessary) and with spectacles on his nose. He didn't need glasses, but according to Intelligence it was best if people couldn't clock him from a mile-away. It was why his hair was a big shaggy and rough, rather than perfect and slick. It was why he didn't have a dozen guards stationed all around him when he walked through the entrance and towards the landing area.

But certain things couldn't be masqueraded. His body-language and stride for one. George walked with purpose, all the confidence in the world, as if he was born to lead and knew it.

He came straight for Noema.

"Miss Kintar," With a polite nod there as he offered his hand for a soft squeeze and shake. "Pleasure meeting you. I hope you have been treated well so far? I have gathered that you have gone through a bit of..." Sympathetic expression there as he sought a proper word and couldn't. "...a nightmare." Finally, giving her hand another squeeze before letting go.

"I was heartened to hear my sister managed to help you out and offered further assistance. Shall we walk? I apologize if you have been waiting, but we will make the time up."

Offering his elbow for them to walk, proper and like a gentleman.

 

[Noema Kintar]

Noema had been briefed by Reima after the first excruciating moment when she had learned, after traveling with the Princess for days and addressing her quite casually, that Reima was not just Reima but Her Royal Highness Princess Reima the Princess Royal. But, Her Royal Highness Princess Reima the Princess Royal had assured her that because she, Noema, was not a subject of the Renascent Heirate, she was therefore was not required or expected to curtsy or to address their royalty by their titles. No genuflecting necessary. Even still, as His Royal Highness -- now, was he a Prince Royal, or....? -- approached her directly, his boots pounding a rhythm on the plates, Noema was momentarily frozen before making a perfunctory little not-quite bow. Not graceful, necessarily, but a respectful (if shallow) bob of her head that bordered on a nod that sent her slightly brassy hair swinging a little.

"Your Royal Highness," said Noema as she allowed him to take her hand for a shake. "Yes -- I've been treated very well by your, um, people here. World-class medical care, and I never saw so much as a single bill." An abashed, faint smile at the awkwardness. "Your sister -- the -- Princess Royal?" She said, as if she wasn't quite sure about the nomenclature. "She promised she wouldn't send collectors after me. Something about a life debt."

She allowed her hand to slip into the crook of his elbow. "I haven't been here long," Noema assured him. "It's impressive how tight your people are. The -- sorry, I don't remember what they're called. The clandestine services," she clarified. "Everything runs like clockwork."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

For a moment it seemed like Noema was pulled between different actions. Then she took the action of least resistance. George smiled softly and squeezed her hand one more time and then they were off.

"George, please." He murmured with a little teasing tone. "I get enough of that genuflecting and saluting when I am at court. Sometimes it is nice to just... be a bit normal, no?"

He laughed at the mention of debt-collectors and his sister.

"I can guarantee you that you won't see a bill moving forward either. We would be truly stingy bastards if we tried to rack up your debt, after the whole mess on Coruscant, hm?" It was a good reminder though, George wasn't really sure how their healthcare system worked. He was aware that some systems were rather crazy about it and that their citizens could be under considerable stress.

He made a mental note to himself to review the state of it in their nation. Perhaps something to discuss with the Prime Minister over tea. It would be ridiculous if the future Sovereign wasn't aware.

"Clock work indeed. I will pass along your compliments to the respective parties, I am sure they will be pleased. Especially from someone who served with the Alliance Intelligence. Served being the operative word, I am made to understand you are not interested anymore to continue there. That must have been a hard decision?"

Or perhaps it was a very easy decision taking everything into account.