Summit of the Crystal City
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Sharon entered the briefing room at the appointed time. A tall Coalition Marine who stood in the center of the room turned to regard her. While not unheard of, it was unusual for a marine from the Central Fleet to be present on a besieged militia ship. They had troubles of their own.
“Enchantress,” he greeted politely. She returned the gesture with the appropriate, “Marine.”
“Where were you stationed?” Sharon asked.
“I am Richard Keller, one of 243. Recently stationed on the Maculata,” stated the tall man.
Sharon recognized the name of the ship. Leader of the assault contingent on an Ebony Fleet scout. Bloody work, she thought. “Militia Observer, Sharon Vega, inactive,” she replied. Sharon glanced over in the corner. “I take it that is the third of our number,” referring to a girl of about seven sitting against the wall, chanting softly to herself as she played with an assortment of small figures. Something about the song felt subtly off to Sharon. Sub lyrics? Usually she could pick up on them, but these were intricate.
“Yes, she came aboard the Maculata recently. Her name is Amy. Seems pleasant enough for the Black Fleet, which probably means she’s something particularly nasty…”
The possibility troubled Sharon. She was not too fond of the Ebony Fleet. It leaned too far ghing, and threw dangerous rogues on occasion. It was a dangerous and irresponsible consolidation of power, less powerful than the Central Fleet, but also with less restraint.
At the sound of the door opening, the Ebony Fleet girl rose and spun. The cloak flared out and twisted back around. The girl knelt, an oddity. Sharon caught the lower half of a shadowed face below the hood before she too turned to greet Michael.
“Olivia, please stand,” Michael requested. Sharon glanced back to see the girl rise to her feet again. “As you wish, Michael.”
“I hope the three of you have used this opportunity to become acquainted?” Michael inquired.
“Yes, Michael,” affirmed Sharon.
“Indeed,” agreed Olivia. “I feel I know these quite well.” The glibness made Sharon flush with irritation despite herself. The girl was trying to make them feel uncomfortable, she supposed. Richard looked composed, so she fought back an impulse to call her out.
“Very good,” Michael replied with a slight smile. “You will be spending some time together if you accept my request.”
“Now I will give you some background. A short while ago I received a message from an old friend using one of our one-time-use keys. I opened the message itself in a disposable environment to have a look. There didn’t appear to be any surprises, and our pre-arranged signs indicate that she is not under duress.”
“Who is this friend, and do you trust her?” Sharon asked, quick to the point from their previous conversation.
“I knew her as Abigail, though she has been known by other names. I…” Michael paused for a moment, as if to choose his words. “I want very much to trust her.”
Sharon and the others stood thinking for a few moments. Michael perhaps fears that he will be the target of an exploit of some sort?
“So, what did she have to say, and why the concern?” asked the Marine. Richard, Sharon reminded herself.
“The message itself is rather dense and arcane. Olivia and perhaps Sharon can grasp it. I will perhaps give it to them to look over later. The portion that pertains to us is a summons. She requests that I travel, along with such a force as the hill, or hills, can spare to a fortress system outside the Salient.”
“Outside the Salient? I was not aware that there were any of those left…” observed Richard.
“Yes, and this one is unfamiliar to me.” At this, Sharon noticed that Olivia shifted slightly. “A fortress system kept secret at this level is troubling enough, and I suspect my judgement in regard to Abigail. A Smith’s Apprentice at the heart of a secret smells of ghing.”
“So, you send a Triumvirate?” Olivia pointedly inquired. “What is my role, I wonder? Michael sends a strange gift to his ‘friend’. (query: indistinct)”
Sharon turned as Olivia spoke. There was a hard edge with hidden words beneath the surface murmuring of blood. Olivia stood taller now, her cloak and hair billowing black in a stiff breeze felt only by her. Then Sharon knew what she was: a Bane Sidhe.