Difference between revisions of "A Dangerous Dance"

Revision as of 10:06, 17 January 2012

Rockhopper Haven - Resilience - Ungstir - <Ungstir>

This cavernous chamber in the natural rock of the Ungstir planetoid appears to be some kind of converted mining operation facility, with large, rusty ore grinders, separation platforms and storage silos arrayed throughout. Automated ore-hauling bots - still functional despite age - whir and clunk overhead, following tracks set into the ceiling that weave around the antiquated mining equipment.

       Metal-seated stools border a semicircular bar counter which is about one hundred feet long from end to end.
       The bartender is usually clad in mining gear - complete with hardhat and overalls - and it doesn't always appear to be just for purposes of keeping in theme. The Rockhopper's Haven has a reputation as a rough spot among rough spots, with fisticuffs and gunfights erupting on a fairly regular basis - thus keeping the civilian constabulary on their toes (when they aren't actually involved in the fights themselves).

Falkenberg walks into the Rockhopper with a frown fixed on his face. He stands in the doorway eyeing the crowd for a moment.

Melania is standing near the door. Not exactly at it, but not nearby it either. Looks like she hasn't exactly gotten great sleep the past few days. Her arms are folder across her chest, but her eyes are directed toward the doorway. "Boss." she greets.

Dr. Nirali is already here, and with her is none other than the impeccably suited Joe Falcone. Both stick out like sore thumbs in the tavern's gritty environs, and neither look entirely pleased to be here. The Timonae is plugging her ears against the raucous singing coming from the table immediately adjacent to hers.

Falkenberg nods to Melania. "Glad you're here," he says just loudly enough for her to hear. "Be ready for trouble." At last, he sees Kaxina, and heads toward her, knowing Melania will follow. He approaches her table, and stands looking at her and her associate. "Dr. Nirali," he says. "I see I've finally caught up to you. Difficult, considering how very busy you have been."

Corris arrives from City Commons - Resilience - Ungstir. Corris has arrived.

"Captain. You invite me to the /nicest/ places," Kaxina chuckles deprecatingly toward the Terran and his crewman, her smile half a wince. She is seated at a table with a third human, a sharply-dressed fellow with slicked-back hair.

Melania doesn't sit this time. No, she stands. Behind and slightly to the left of Falk. And there' nothing really on Lani's mind right now. Either she's too tired, or she doesn't have anything to really say that'd be of great importance.

"Dr. Nirali," Falkenberg says with a faint smile, "I have come to believe that you could make yourself comfortable in whatever environment you choose, and if you appear UNcomfortable here, it is probably by design." He pulls up a chair at her table without being invited. "I think I'm done being fooled by whatever face you choose to show me."

The door to the tavern oepns, and behind it is the Martian Councillor - Jeffrey Corris. He steps through the door, and looks around the room not entirely sure what he is looking for. He had not intented to stop by here, but he had time to kill before his ship departed. After spending the brunt of the day in meetings, he felt he deserved a drink or five. He slowly makes his way across the room towards the bar, looking at the various patrons.

The curve of that smiling mouth turns utterly vulpine. "I see," Kaxina drawls - and following a brief shading of annoyance, adds at higher volume, "then which of my repetoire of faces do you desire to see?"

There's probably some choice words on Lani's lips, but she's done enough as it is already. So she clams up. Better to let Falk handle this one before she find some way to trip over her feet. And last she checked, her boots were tied pretty securely.

"Whichever one approximates the truth of who you really are, doctor," Falkenberg says, and then he chuckles. "If you can remember, that is. You are a very, very smart woman, of that I am certain. But you are not the ambitious but eccentric business woman you have tried to appear in our past dealings." He gestures a waiter over to the table, and orders a drink. "At least, that's far from ALL you are. So perhaps you should show me the face that lets you move around official investigations on Earth and even get copies of autopsy reports, without being questioned. Or the face that allows you to get a ship repaired out in the wilderness on Earth without any official flags being raised. Or the face that allows you to call off a group of Timonae mercenaries who only very recently and conveniently started making trouble for some associates of mine." He raises both eyebrows and tilts his head to the side. "Or the face that allows you to arrive somewhere uninvited with an entire fleet at your beck and call. Surely one of those faces can give us a glimpse into the real Kaxina Nirali."

After reaching the bar, Corris orders himself a drink. A moment passes and the barkeep returns with his drink and is paid promptly. Taking his drink and turning to face the other people in the bar, the councillor takes a sip of his drink. His eyes scan the room, really not looking for anything in particular or expecting to find anything, however his eyes settle on Kaxina - the familiar women who was present at the emergency Council meeting the other night. He waits a moment, before slowly making his way over to her and those she is sitting with.

Kaxina's shoulders roll against the back of her seat, and the good doctor settles in, as comfortable as a cat. "The Sivadians would tell you that courage is all one needs; the Demarians, honor. Ask the bartender here and he would /swear/ it's a shot of Russkaya," she replies. "Forty years in the Merchant's Guild told me it was money. Twenty years in the Consortium told me it was power. A lifetime in the Fringe told me that it was lies, Captain, cons and swindles and thievery. I suppose I could regale you with the names of my clientele; namedrop my friends on Earth, on Sivad, within the Vanguard itself, utterly /wow/ you with a list of contacts as long as the Line of Pain. But you and I know better. It's money, darling, money and power, and lies, lies, lies."

Falkenberg chuckles, and takes his drink from the waiter. "Oh, make no mistake, doctor. I am nothing but impressed by you, and I am sure now that your reach and your influence are indeed great. And you are so very clever. How better, for example, to keep that mysterious station out of Lord Fagin's hands than to tell the galaxy he already possessed it? Falsely, as it turns out." He sips his drink. "And how little thought you gave to the terrible consequences poor Melania here would suffer being the apparent cause of such an interstellar embarrassment for the Pirate King, so soon after you seemed so willing to help her." He sets his glass down. "I think I should enjoy playing you in chess, doctor, though I have no doubt you would beat me."

Melania looks unimpressed, but that could just be the face of lifelong soldier. "That's what it boils down to?" There's no real anger to the look on her face, but the mention of possibly being thrown under the perverbial hoverbus does make her brows furrow only just so. No use in saying anything else. Falk is the better speaker here and after, she was originally hired to be the muscle, so why not act like it.

As the martian politician reaches the table, he clears his throat and nods to the group, looking at Kaxina. "Fancy running into you here." Corris says, as he moves up to an empty seat and sitting down without being invited - ballsey. He smiles, motioning to the bar to get another round of drinks going, "Mind if I join?" He asks, without really caring what the answer may be. He looks to Kaxina's assocaites, "Jeffrey Corris, Mars represenative to the Consortium council." He introduces to the others.

"Ah. Is that what I was doing? As I recall, I spent the evening in the Council Chambers reminding them that every Fringe entity," Kaxina's voice climbs higher, /"regardless of its loyalty to Lord Fagin,"/ and back again, "does not speak for his lordship's Riches. Perhaps the good Councillor here can provide the notes. To what do we owe the honor, sir?"

"Of course you did, Doctor, as that would be entirely consistent with your behavior," Falkenberg says. "Yet YOU Were the spokesperson for...what was it again, Canary Industries? in which that organization declared its support for the claim of Fagin's Riches to the station. A claim that had never been made, since no one on Tomin Kora had any knowledge that Melania here was on the station, and she was free to do as she chose in that moment. She could have tried to keep the place for herself, if she had been able. But of course, once you stirred up the hornet's nest just enough, you did what you could to settle it down." He eyes the martian now for a moment, but says nothing directly to him.

Melania snorts. "Damn sure it wasn't for a lack of trying." she blithely remarks.

Chuckling, Corris nods and takes a sip of his drink. "Indeed that is what you were doing." He replies, as he crosses his legs, resting one hand on the table. "And if I recall correctly, you were very quick to pledge support to the Consortium to aid us with the crisis." He offers a smile, and looks to the others with her. "As for what I am doing here, just waiting for my shuttle to depart. I had some business here, arrived this morning, back to Mars after this."

/"Cabrerra./ A corporation for whom I provide political public relations, and whose actions are overseen by a Board of Directors upon which I do not sit. Let us pretend that, through some grievous error, I /did/ improperly parrot the line I was to relay, and /did/ state that the company backed Lord Fagin's claim - and not the independently-owned Equinox's. Even then, would the messenger be held accountable?" Dr. Nirali questions. "The company walks a fine line between Riches and Council. Appeasement of both sides is seldom simple. As stated - rather /plainly/ - in the Council meeting, the Board intends to support any and all efforts to inspect the station and ascertain the motives of the Nall. In return, the Council will keep negotiations regarding the station's ownership open. There would be no /negotiations/ for anything had the Vanguard arrived on the scene prior to my client's."

Falkenberg claps slowly, and smiles. "Well spoken, doctor. Yes, you SAID, in a news story which quoted only you but nevertheless identified the claim as belonging to Fagin's Riches, when CBN would have no independent way of connecting Melania here, who has only been on Tomin Kora six months or so and has never been arrested or identified committing a crime in that time, to Fagin's Riches, that your organization was supporting the claim of the Equinox, a ship which was not even built on Tomin Kora. I'm sure it is entirely beyond your abilities to tip off CBN off the record, giving them information that, as I said, was patently false. A news organization could not connect Melania or the Equinox to Lord Fagin. An intelligence service could, perhaps... or a large corporation with ties on Tomin Kora. Or you could have, who know Melania and for whom she works, and were directly quoted in the story." He shrugs. "It seems to me that the simplest explanation is usually correct."

Melania is trying really hard to not say anything but damn, Falk's good at this whole talking thing. Were it her, she would've gotten fed up some time ago and just started shooting. Thankfully, that isn't her role. Her role is shut up and look like the bodyguard she was hired to be.

"I would remind you that I have been very vocal against the Vanguard using force to resolve the issue with the station." Corris says. "I, personally, have no issues with the current ownership as long as there is an understanding that weapons aboard it will not be used against the Consortium. I don't agree with how the Vanguard is handling this." The councillor shakes his head, furious with Admiral York over how everything had gone down. "But I think we should be more worried about the Nall, not over a dispute about salvage rights."

"Everyone in the Orion Arm is concerned about the Nall, Fagin and his included. On that, I believe, there is no dispute," Dr. Nirali confirms with an idle flap of her hand toward the Councillor, before her lungs empty and she opens her hands reasonably to the Angel's CO. "Captain, were my influence so far-reaching, I assure you: I would not be sitting on two hundred useless acres of real estate in Beijing. But as my words lack currency with you, then tell me: what actions may change your mind? Shall I throw in my hat with your Lord Fagin - open my holodex in his name, speak his voice with my honeyed words, line his coffers with my credits? Tell me, and it will be done."

Falkenberg smiles, and turns to Corris. "Be careful with this one, Councillor," he says, gesturing to Kaxina. "One with such skill could end up at the head of the Council some day. Even now she dances around every barb I throw at her." He drains his drink. "But it is not I you need to placate any more, doctor Nirali. Your presence is requested on Tomin Kora at the highest levels. This was true before this latest incident with the station. I can only assume that the mood will be somewhat less cordial now when you arrive. Nevertheless, I was originally sent out to convey this invitation to you... and I must say that I played no small role in arranging it."

Melania blinks at this. She shouldn't be surprised, but then again, the chopping block is probably waiting on her too. Absently, she wonders if Falk is referring to either Abernanthy or Fagin himself that called for this little meeting. But at this point, it doesn't really matter what he opinion is on it.

"I shall keep an eye on her then." Corris says, chuckling as he replies to Falkenberg. He finishes his drink and stands up, "I should go check on the status of my shuttle. I trust we shall speak again." He says, nodding to Kaxina. "A pleasure to meet you all." He offers a smile, before heading to the exit.

Credit where credit is due - Kaxina does not flinch, indulging in but a faintest arch of a brow. "Is it?" she asks, as casually as if commenting upon the evening news. "Then I shall dress appropriately. If you will direct me to whom I am to speak with and where, you may relay my intent to present myself within the next forty-eight hours."

"You will meet Majordomo Abernathy in the Motherlode Tavern," Falkenberg says with a smile. "He may well choose to take you to a more comfortable location from there. That's up to him. He just told me to invite you, and so I have." He stands up. "Now, I must be going. But I should tell you, that if my friendly invitation does not lead to your prompt arrival, a fellow by the name of Slicer has been dispatched to hurry you along. I would say he's a friend of mine, but I am told that true psychopaths are incapable of forming friendships." He gestures to the waiter. "The lady will cover my drink. Come on, Lani." With that, Falkenberg turns and heads toward the door.

Melania there's no sense of satisfaction on Lani's face. She's hardly said more than a paragraph. Hard to read. Maybe she's wondering how long facade on Kax's face will last once their out the door. Or maybe it's genuine, who knows. Doesn't matter, nodding ocne at Falk, she turns and follows suit.