as written by Ottoman and Saarai
The clear skies of morning had given way to a partially cloudy afternoon, the occasional, brief splotches of shade that crossed over the Reichsplatz were a welcome relief for those who tread across it. There were a great many, possibly even three-hundred if one considered the entire size of the place, crossing it at any given time, and a great many of those passing by Andarta didn't bother to glance at her, far too consumed in their own worries and lives. Despite the masses that had ignored her the time came when one, a young Soruk man, passed by her like so many others, without looking or acknowledging her, though he took his time to lay his finger on the side of his nose, flicking it with no small exaggeration.
Fortunately after that Andarta didn't need to wait much longer.
Approaching from her flank came a lanky man, though whether it was due to his actual form or the uniform was up for debate, clad in the black uniform of the Landwächter and with a coat of his own draped about his shoulders. Walking with a cane, far more for show than actual need, in one hand and a briefcase, cuffed to the wrist, in the other, Craig soon stood beside Andarta. Wearing a small smile and paying her a gentle bow of his head, he moved his cane to the other hand, slipping his hand inside of his pocket to draw out a silver cigarette case, gently offering it to his contact first.
"Andarta. I do hope you will forgive my tardiness, there was an... unexpected meeting with the cabinet this morning." The aged Azrican apologized in Aenglis, figuring it all the more easy to speak in his native tongue than let his Azrik accent twist his Austran to and fro. "Cigarette?"
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Andarta barely turned her head to look at Craig, waving off the offered cigarette as she focused her gaze back on their surroundings. "It happens. I didn't mind waiting." She told the man, digging a hand into a coat pocket.
"I've gotten a lot of useful information, found us a lot of useful people. How they'll be useful? I don't know, depends on what we want and need going forward." She said, obscured eyes drifting down to the man's briefcase.
Curiosity killed the cat. Andarta wasn't going to ask about it, just wait until she was told. If she was ever told.
"A mercenary and some revolutionaries, especially."
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Having offered the lady a cigarette, Nichols moved to take his own only after she'd declined, popping open the case and fingering one out for his lips to pull from its elastic bands. Snapping it closed with a gloved hand, an etched outline of the Azrican Republic evident on its surface in the light, it was soon returned to its home, a lighter replacing it in the Lord Commandant's hand. Once he'd taken a lengthy drag of his vice, its product slipping from his nostrils soon enough. "Really?" He asked, on the note of revolutionaries especially. Perhaps they could organize some form of regime change, instate a government more keen on the Hegemony and their affairs, and more reasonable when it comes to looking the other way when their betters asked it of them. "... let's start with the information, if you might."
Though there might be far too much of it to simply review standing here in the sun, his old bones might not take too kindly to it while Andarta likely found this all quite comfortable after her stint in the savage expanse. The people, well. Craig could say some things, but he wasn't the best suited to speak on the affairs of the Syndicate, and the last thing he wanted was Dr. Hofmann tracking him down and berating him personally. That woman was a holy, or perhaps unholy, terror when given the incentive. "Pending that, I might be able to add some clarity to the matter of personnel and their use." With another light puff of smoke, soon caught and dashed about by the gentle breeze, Nichols sighed.
"You can expect friendly elements in-system within the month."
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She nodded, running a hand through her hair as the other slowly withdrew a datachip from her pocket. She held it up for Nichols to see, "Most of the information for our people to sift through is here. Names, locations, events." She told him, "Notably, there's chaos unfolding on a planet called Valore."
"Those revolutionaries are adding to it. Their leadership suggests that they're trying to force change. Destroy to create. I don't think everyone is in it for anything but money, but the money keeps flowing so they maintain a reasonable army." Andarta explained, "Their leader has prior knowledge of us, too."
She gestured around, "He's old. Probably been around a few times. Been here. I'll look into his past."
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The elderly Azrican glanced to Andarta as she held up the datachip, letting her finish speaking before offering an open hand to take it, tucking it into his pocket once he had it. Valore - he'd heard that name before, and with a furrowed brow he lingered on the thought, biting his lip in between drags on his cigarette. It was in his business dealing with the cabinet, not the Ministry, but it was no major point, just some side-topic that warranted half a minute's discussion. It was a matter brought up by Dr. Roth, if he recalled correctly, and one tabled by the SEO. It was the note that their leader had knowledge of them that truly caught Nichols' attention, glancing soon to Andarta. Leaving his cigarette in his lips, the man gestured down, to the plaza beneath him, though he spoke more for the planet and their nation than this place specifically.
"Here?" He asked, quite curious, "Please do. I wonder - would you say he could prove sympathetic to our cause?" Were it that they might gain the cooperation of an experienced leader of such a cell could prove vital in the area, nevermind already work to establish a sociopolitical hierarchy in the area once they secured it properly.
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Andarta chuckled a bit, "Sympathetic? No. This man despises us and people like us. When I say he wants change, I don't just mean here and there." She told Nichols, "This man, he's-..." She paused, searching for the most appropriate words.
Based on what she knew, what she thought, it should have come more naturally. Unfortunately, there were still dark spots in this man's past and present.
"He's different. He's an anomaly. I've heard rumors that he's more than man, more than mortal. I don't believe them, but there's things that happen around his facility that make me wonder." She told Nichols.
Andarta cleared her throat, "Anyways, he'll side with us as long as there's some sort of fragile trust. He's a big picture of man."
"Oh! The Hessian, he's on Valore helping out one of the potential assets with her ambitions. Trying to rise to the top of a mercenary company called the Invictus. If in power, she'll be extremely useful."
"Until she isn't."
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Hearing that this man was likely as interested in siding with the Hegemony as a vast majority of the Coalition had Craig's eyebrows droop slightly, eyes moving back to the plaza. His kind were well known to him, and to the rest of the cabinet. Revolutionaries, visionaries - whatever it was that you wanted to call their kind, they opposed the very foundations of the society in which the empire existed. The Hegemony, though a modern superpower, was built on the cornerstone of tradition, using the models and social mores of the past to march into the future, and troublemakers more often than not would like to knock the foundation out from under them. The Lord Commandant sighed, taking another drag once he finished with it. So long as whoever this man was steered clear of their own realm, he and his lord likely had no desire to see the matter neutralized.
Disappointed as he was in the previous statement, the next unsettled him, eliciting a glance and a warning. "Neither doubt or underestimate the power of the supernatural, Andarta." Whether she believed it or not, it would be folly to completely dismiss any such claim without psychic observation. The paranormal, the magical, were elements that the Hegemony did not treat lightly, and understood as viable and volatile threats to their assets and operations. "How long would you estimate he would be willing to cooperate with us in the region?" Given a rough timeframe he and his subordinates could see to developing and enacting a contingency, in the case that relations soured to the point of hostility.
"Most excellent." He mused regarding Hesh, glancing to a nearby triumphal arch as he did, eyes running over its curvature as he spoke. "Do pass on my compliments, if you run into him when you return." Were it that he could turn a local paramilitary to their side, or at least into a co-belligerent, then the plans for the sector might prove all the more easy, even if they remained a Syndicate affair for now.
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"I just don't know what to think sometimes. I'm loyal to a fault, but what if Scatter exists in many forms? Or what if Scatter isn't the only God to be reborn?" Andarta asked. She didn't enjoy questioning her faith, but so much time away from home had opened her up to ideas she couldn't get from church.
"I say he'll aid us for as long as we aid him. So far, I've shown how useful we can be in the long run." She told Nichols, "It may take some 'convincing', but I bet we can sway them to our side."
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Craig lingered on the thought, taking another drag off of his cigarette as he thought how best to respond. Andarta was a valuable operative, a true asset to the nation and his own bureau, and so to simply dismiss what it was she was saying here was something of a challenge. "I know you trust me, Andarta, it's only proper given my position as your superior..." Nichols bit his lip, letting out a nasal sigh, jets of smoke pouring from his nose. "... but do not let anyone else hear you say that. Not here." He could ignore it - could choose to ignore it, rather - thanks to his position, but he had the authority to override the convictions of the Verhör and the Seraphim on the judgement of heresy, were it that the perpetrator was valuable enough.
"The texts tell us of a time when there were thousands like Scatter, and to say that there aren't some left..." He shrugged. That was beyond him, the matters and concerns of the clergy and religious students, and it was something that he entrusted to their keeping. "There are still mysteries in the universe, many of which are beyond my comprehension as a man." For now he focused on his work and his duty, and that was safeguarding the Hegemony, at home and abroad, from the shadows.
"... but I understand that the Local Sector is a growing fascination with the imperial cabinet." The short discussion involving Valore at the meeting prior recurred to his mind, making a mental note to inquire as to these plans with both the good doctors and see if the Initiative would take priority over Imperial interests in the region. "When I have more solid information on what you should be expecting from us in the system, you will have it."
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Andarta was silent for a moment. She adjusted her goggles before she turned away from Nichols, "Understood, sir." She said, "I need to head back to Hera Prime. A big operation is on the way. The mercenary I told you about should be eliminating, or has already eliminated, the planet's central government." She told him.
"I need to do my part in what's coming next. If all goes according to plan, we can send our own troops down and take advantage of the situation." Andarta said, beginning to walk away.
"It won't be easy."
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Nichols nodded at her parting words, having worn his cigarette down just barely past his weathered fingers, the final drag coming before too long as the Lord Commandant had to part with his vice or risk burning his digits. Though openly the Hegemony was an isolationist power, a nation far more concerned with its own affairs and the two wars it was already embroiled in, it was best described as opportunistic, and the opportunity presented here was too good to pass up. Thus it was left to men and women like Nichols and Andarta, the clandestine arm of the Landwächter, to take the situation into their own hands, and mold it to imperial liking. Perhaps the best choice here was a puppet state, or the establishment of some new house - though such thoughts could wait until boots were on the ground.
The Azrican man let the cigarette fall to the ground, finished with it, the stump trailing smoke until it found its mark on the cobblestone underfoot. With a brief glance to check his mark, the minister moved the shark-nosed toe of his jackboot forward to grind it into the stone, snuffing out the embers.
"It never is."
