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.

 

[Noema Kintar]

Noema looked back at the men working on refueling the ship before turning her attention back to the Prince. "Normal," she repeated, a sardonic smirk flickering on her lips. "I wonder what normal is when you're a prince. But -- if you insist -- George it is. And I'm -- " There, she stumbled over her words. She almost said Jasa, but stopped herself just in time. "Noema. But you can call me Noe."

They approached the ship and she wrestled with the question he posed to her.

"It was," she answered after a few moments of consideration. "And it wasn't."

Her fingers tapped against her thigh as she spoke, counting syllables, counting breaths, counting moments. "I enjoyed my job before. Not a lot of people can say that. And if I held my breath and tilted my head just right, the orders to abandon Coruscant and the people that lived there to fight another day could almost -- almost -- be logical. Smart. Maybe even right."

Noema took a breath, her shoulders rotating minutely, never settling for more than a moment. She was uncomfortable, but she pressed on: "But when I got here and saw the news -- the Senate debating which half of the Alliance to cut loose to let the Empire run roughshod? No. No. That's cowardice, dressed as strategy. It's immoral, and it's stupid. It's indefensible. And so I had to get out. They already thought I was dead, so it's best to leave them in their ignorance."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

"Well, Noe, pleasure making your acquaintance and I would never recommend for you to become a Prince." He teased lightly as they walked. "Normal is topsy turvy at the best of times."

Of course, George knew just how privileged he truly was. His mother had always made sure that he knew, that he wouldn't end up being a stuck-up brat that took everything for granted and lorded his privilege over others. It was a responsibility. To care for others and make sure that he could protect those who could not protect themselves.

It was service.

George nodded there and became more serious.

"The reports we got out of the Alliance have been concerning to say the least. So your direct experience does not surprise me, even if it does disappoint, we expected better from the Galactic Alliance."

It could still be salvaged. Maybe, just maybe, some over there would grow a spine and stand up for what was right. Even if it was hard. Especially if it was hard.

"Well, your secret is safe with us and my understanding is that the people we are going to have been fighting since day one. They did not give up, they continue the good fight. That's exactly what you want, no?"

 

[Noema Kintar]

"They say that as a power gets larger, their responsibility grows and -- paradoxically -- their ability to fulfill it declines. I didn't know if I believed that until now, but..." Her voice fell off for a moment. "What's the point of it all, you know? What's the point of building some vast community of worlds if at the first defeat you just -- you just -- " She made a kind of strangled noise of frustration and anger. "To say nothing of the injustice. You collect billions -- trillions, probably -- in taxes from these places and when the Empire comes knocking it's just good luck everyone, we've got to go!"

She shook her head furiously. Behind them, the doors wooshed open again, and this time a train of cargo pallets was wheeled in. "On your left, Your Royal Highness," called the lead of this train, maneuvering around and past George and Noema. The ship's cargo ramp lowered to allow egress. Noema watched impassively, her hazel eyes impassive.

"I have a lot of respect for your -- the -- Queen, is she, or Supreme Leader? -- for the work she did in the Senate," Noema said. "And the woman who replaced her, Tolliver, isn't taking it lying down. Other Senators are standing firm, too, but they seem to be dots in a sea of cowardice. But -- yes -- this group seems to be willing to do something. That's why I'm going there. I don't know what I can do. I don't know whether the Empire can be stopped. But I know that someone has to try. At least try, right?"

Her gaze turned to the Prince, her eyes searching his face, as if he had the answers to these profound questions written there.

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

He agreed, of course, his entire life George had been groomed with the idea of ruling one day. However the lesson had been clear: ruling was a privilege one earned and could easily be yanked back.

If the commons believed you were taking it for granted, if you were taking advantage and weren't constantly showing you understood your responsibilities... well. For every one aristocrat, there were hundreds of the commons. They would have little issue tearing you down from your state of privilege.

"They grew comfortable." George agreed there calmly. "Entitled, they believed that their existence is its own rationale and nothing else matters." Then he shrugged, because that would have its own consequence.

He carefully leaned away, his hand settling on Noema's shoulder to indicate to her the cargo was passing them by.

"My mother is the Sovereign and yes, she has worked very hard for our people. She was the one who taught me how privileged we are and how much responsibility we have as a result."

He began to unpack, using one of the lockers, gesturing towards the other one that Noema could use.

"In the past we could have made this trip in a few hours, but now with the Galactic Empire raging its war, we will have to be cautious about what routes we are taking. Last thing we need is being caught in one of their interdiction buoys or attacked by pirates. So, you get one of the spare rooms so you can get some rest, I am guessing this entire thing has been exhausting even if you had time to recover in our hospital."

 

[Noema Kintar]

Noema flinched a moment when the Prince's hand settled on her shoulder, and she stepped out of the way of the passing cargo, her eyes lingering over her shoulder on the passing crates. "Your sister said something about sending a bunch of money. I guess that's... the bunch of money. For some reason I pictured a check. Maybe a big check. Like on those old game show holos." A self-deprecating smirk. "Stupid, I know."

The woman followed him into the ship and took to the locker to which he directed her. "Thanks," she murmured. "That all makes sense. The slow road can be the safest one. And all the better if we are able to blend into the larger traffic patterns. I don't think the Empire will care about finding me -- with any luck they don't know I exist. I doubt the Alliance will care either. They've probably got bigger fish to fry. But -- just in case." She took her bag off her shoulder and worked on fitting it into the locker. "I'm fine to -- help out around the ship. Whatever you need. I can cook a little if that helps."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

"Auridium bars, in fact." George responded kindly, not taking the opportunity to laugh at her assumption, instead genuinely elaborating on it. "Untraceable, easily offloaded on the black market and exchanged into any other currency that the Hidden Path might wish to operate in." For this mission it was important to keep their own connection to the resistance movement as opaque as possible.

George understood it, even if it went against his own upbringing. He had been brought up with the idea that it was only a criminal or worse that operated in the shadows.

But as he grew older he understood that sometimes it wasn't that simple.

What if the Empire found out and decided to target the RH directly? That would harm not just them but any ordinary citizenry that simply wished to live their life without interference. Who perhaps didn't care all that much who ruled in the Core, as long as their own way of life wasn't affected. His mother, the Sovereign, had to look at the long view... while keeping them all safe.

It was a tricky situation and it was only increasing his appreciation for all that she had done and was still doing for the good of them all.

"That would be splendid, because if I tried to cook, I do believe I'd poison us both. And wouldn't it be sad if we never even reached our destination because of my cooking skills?" Teasing her softly as he squeezed her shoulder.

"I agree, likelihood is low that we will be tracked, but we just got you out of danger. I wouldn't wish to put you back into danger so soon, yes?"

 

[Noema Kintar]

"Just think," Noema quipped, the mirth on her lips not quite reaching her eyes. "If we were even a little bit less principled, we could just take those bars and cash out. What is the fate of the core -- the galaxy, even -- when compared to a luxury suite on a holiday world and an endless supply of sweet drinks with little paper umbrellas in them?" Her smile turned wan. Even in the absence of war, that didn't seem to be something she could ever do long-term. A holiday, perhaps.

Perhaps.

He talked about security and safety, and Noe had to be grateful that he seemed to want to see her delivered safely. "I quite agree," she answered. Her shoulders angled this way and that, never quite settling until she turned back to face the Prince. "Thank you. I mean, it's your neck, too. And everyone at home, if they know who you are, I would guess."

She had finished tucking her things into the locker and now, blissfully empty-handed save for her datapad and comlink, which she tucked into a little pouch at her belt, she put hands to hips, looking around. "What do you need me to do?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

A soft chuckle.

"I hear Rishi is nice this time a year? If you'd like I can give you a... half a day head-start, but then I am afraid I'd have to come after you." George winked at her as he thought about the bars himself. A small fortune, indeed, but wealth had never been particularly of interest to him. A byproduct of being born into nobility and never having to worry about petty things such as 'will I be able to feed myself tomorrow' or 'I really hate this job but I hate not having a roof over my head even more'.

Luckily for everyone Natasi had done her best to raise him with the understanding that he was privileged. It was not the norm, it would never be the norm and it meant that his life had to be one of service.

Otherwise it was tyranny and then the pitchforks came out.

"Ah, well, think nothing of it, ma'am. I am just doing what anyone would do. We cannot simply live our lives hoping that if we make ourselves as small as possible that the Empire will pass us by. We must fight, we must struggle and we must show them that people of dignity and honor will stand against them at every time a day."

He patted her shoulder one more time and then stepped towards the cockpit.

"I am going to wind up the engines, get us out of here and on the path forward. Perhaps you can run a log on our inventory and supplies? Make sure the boys in black didn't miss anything while setting up the stock for us. It will be dinner time soon, so will be nice to know what we can eat once we are in Hyperspace proper."

 

[Noema Kintar]

"Absolutely can do," Noema said. She watched him head for the cockpit and looked around the hold briefly, her eyes alighting upon a data terminal on a small built-in desk. She pulled out the stool and sat, beginning to tap away at the keys. Her fingers skimmed rapidly, pulling up data, programs. She ran a report on the inventory and supplies, then cross-referenced it with the recipes that the autochef in the galley would make. She downloaded the results to her datapad, stood up, and slid the stool back under the desk.

Noema stopped to visit the refresher, and splashed some cold water on her face, then patted her cheeks and forehead dry with one of the soft towels provided on a ring. A few moments later, she entered the cockpit. "Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked, gesturing to one of the chairs. "Takeoff and landing make me a little... qualmish."

Once she settled in one of the chairs, she pulled her datapad out. "Your, um, boys in black?" she started. "They're very thorough. The ship is stocked with all sorts. And it's all zero waste, provided we follow the recipes provided." She handed over the datapad, which had proposed menus. "Is everything always so tidy in the Renascent Heirate?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

"Of course not, please do." Indicating to the seat himself without thinking, as if she hadn't just pointed towards it herself. But such reflexes were difficult to curb or ignore.

Royalty offered you a seat.

George chuckled as she commented on the agency and their work.

"Courtesy of my mother, even though she'd never take the credit." He said good-humored as they lifted off and slipped into space. They'd still need to align and taxi for the next hyperspace jump, but that would take a bit of time. "All that is good and orderly flows from the top down to the bottom. She has always believed in running a tight ship."

Sure, they were a constitutional monarchy and as such Natasi didn't have the sort of power she had as the Supreme Leader.

But that didn't matter as much as people would think.

She was advising, she was suggesting, she was working behind the scenes. In truth Natasi was his greatest inspiration.

"You know..." Thoughtful there, glancing towards her. "If you ever decide the Path isn't what you wanna be doing, there will be a place for you on Aegis as well."

 

[Noema Kintar]

Noema had gone begun doing that which Noema always did when she was idle: sifting through data. She was listening to George -- of course -- but his tone suggested that what he was saying was of limited import. One naturally said nice things about one's mother -- a social norm that was double true if one's mother was the sovereign of a nation, and triple true if one's mother could well have stacked this ship with listening devices to make sure her son wasn't telling tales outside of school.

Not for the first time, Noema was pleased not to have such a compunction.

But then he offered a -- "place"? -- on Aegis for her. In case the Hidden Path didn't work out for her. Ginger eyebrows knitted together curiously, hazel eyes narrowing minutely.

"What does that mean?" she asked curiously. Not that Noema wasn't interested. She thought some details could be required to make an informed decision. "Like... doing this?" Noema gestured around the ship vaguely. "Smuggling stuff?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

George looked at her with amusement when she asked that.

"Do I look like a two-bit Crime Lord in search for a smuggler?" Teasing her lightly as he turned on the nav-comp. It would automate the process of aligning them to the right coordinates. Then it would just be a matter of being next in line to jump to hyperspace. "I meant spywork, darling. We could find you a job in one of the Heirate agencies, either domestic or foreign services, or you could come work for me personally."

He hadn't been planning on offering the latter.

He hardly knew her, had no idea what he had in her yet, but George sometimes had a feeling about people. And what he had read in the dossier and then seeing her be so composed after what she had experienced on Coruscant?

Yeah, George got a good feeling about her.

"I might not be the Sovereign, but the Crown Prince of the Realm also requires some personal intelligence work... more often than you'd assume."

Then George smiled.

"If this whole Path thing doesn't work out, which I assume it will, of course. But it's nice to have options, yes?"

 

[Noema Kintar]

"Yes," Noema said flatly, her voice impossibly dry. "That's exactly what you look like, actually. That's exactly the kind of fellow who says darling to an almost-stranger." She smirked over her datapad at him, to soften it into a joke. Noema scrolled along the datapad absentmindedly, her hazel eyes narrowing a little.

"That's a kind offer," she said quietly. "I'd like to go somewhere where I can do some good. And if that turns out to be the Hidden Path, then... good. If that turns out to be some crime lord prince in something called an Heirate -- which, since we're being free with our words, I feel like I ought to tell you that that sounds made up -- then that's good, too."

Noema allowed herself to lean back in the crash couch. "It is nice having options. Speaking of options -- any of this look good for dinner? The ones in red are, apparently, spicy. The ones in green are plant-based." She turned the datapad around and handed it over to the Prince. "You Heirate people really don't screw around, huh?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

When she called him out on it Noema received a big mischievous grin. Which confirmed it to her, George had done it on purpose, either to make her laugh or to see how she'd react.

Or perhaps both.

"A Crime Lord Prince... gosh, now you are giving me ideas..." Rubbing his chin there. "Do you think there is a lot of money to be made as a Crime Lord Prince?" As if George wasn't already wealthy beyond belief, comfortable from the moment he was born with a diamond spoon in his mouth. That was why it was so funny to him.

What could ever the point of something like that to someone like him?

"Well, in fairness, miss Kintar, every word is made up at some point. So yes, the Heirate sounds made up. But once upon a time 'Kingdom' was presumably also made-up, funny how that goes, no?"

He took the map as the ship continued its taxi'ing and finally they were next.

"I do like a little bit of spice and some meat. Are you a vegetarian by any chance?" Glance towards Noema. "Oh, best strap yourself in, the initial jump will be bumpy, but we have the latest inertia dampeners, so once we are traveling we can move around the ship without trouble."

The Prince did so promptly and nodded.

"No, we do not. We believe in keeping things orderly, fair and transparent. Sounds to me like the kind of place that you'd value... and that would value you in return."

 

[Noema Kintar]

"Probably," Noe responded. She swiveled in the chair, glancing toward the exits. The thump as a ventilation routine started made her flinch visibly -- for a moment she was in a black tunnel, swimming with dust from crumbling duracrete and chunks of debris -- and then she was back in the cockpit again, safe, comfortable. Noe reflexively took a slow breath. She didn't look at George, although he probably would have noticed. She didn't want to talk about it. Not then. Perhaps not ever. "But -- " she started again, trying to put brightness and wit into her voice that she didn't quite feel. " -- you've got to factor in money-laundering, new identities, and those henchman salaries? That'll eat you alive. Probably being a privileged, pampered, precious little Prince is better on the balance sheets."

She glanced over at him then, sly, lip curling up and in to make a dimple on her cheek.

"Whenever you're hungry I'll punch the autochef," she said, taking the menu back from him. She scanned the list again. "I am not a vegetarian," Noe said. "I dabbled with it in college because my roommate would not shut up about it, but -- I don't know. I'm hungry, you know? Lettuce is great -- love a squash -- tomatoes? Can't get enough of 'em. But sometimes there's nothing for it except a steak or something." She tapped a selection on the menu. "Nuna shawarma wraps with meiloorun chutney. I know, like, three of those words, but I'm prepared to take a chance. What do you think?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

"Here, here, I am not a vegetarian either, ma'am." George teased her lightly. "I do enjoy a good piece of well-done steak with my leafy-greens." He stretched out a touch, his eyes drawn to the viewport and hyperspace beyond it.

"But think about it, miss Kintar."

The longer they traveled, which wasn't long at all really, he was thinking deeper about this situation. And what an opportunity it could bring.

"I have nothing but respect for what the Jedi are doing with the Hidden Path." That had to be made clear. George was not disrespectful to them, he cheered them on, rather.

"But you could do a lot of good here too."

Finding her gaze again.

"I don't wish to pressure you, of course. I am good with it, if you'd like to go there and meet them. But... say the word. I can calculate a different set of coordinates and then we can start talking about the ways that we can bring the hurt to the Imperials. Out of the Heirate, rather than the Unknown Regions, where you don't know anyone directly."

Then a shrug.

"Perhaps consider it over dinner with me."