---
Making the universal hand-gesture for so-so, I placed a bookmark and set my reading aside.
"Something about the new fishing rod I've been trying out," I said. "Well, that and he's brining us a variable-gender swordsperson to talk whatever it is over."
"That's all you got from him?" Noah asked.
Alright, so it wasn't exactly in character for me to go on that little info. On the other hand.
"Well, the trip went a bit towards the boonies and I might have dropped my cell along the way, so he went and sent the missive to me via express shipping."
"You're enjoying this cloak and dagger parody entirely too much. Any more and you'd be sticking fake scars to your face and parading around in Matsumoto-ite wear."
"Quite," I grinned. "Anyway, Maetel bumped his wanting to get in touch with me towards the 'Maru, and tagged it with a 'please', and here I am. She's usually right about this sort of thing."
Oddly enough, or maybe not so much when you consider the fact that both myself and the Express were 'under way' eleven months out of every twelve, Noah hadn't ever met Maetel other than in passing, and that had been back at the end of that whole Sauce-Con mess. Come to think of it, I don't think either of us had any sort of free time in the usual understanding of the phrase since that particular cinch.
I frowned. Hell, I'd spent my birthday this year blowing shit up, and while it was sort of therapeutic, it hadn't been terribly relaxing.
"You don't look terribly enthusiastic about it," Noah commented.
"No, that was on a pretty much unrelated tangent. Anyway, did Sora bother you with what I dropped off before I blew out of Stellvia?"
He shook his head. "By the time I was awake and coherent it was high time to get on the way to make it here on time."
"Ah. No worries, then. It wasn't anything immediately critical, just something to forward on to an analyst to see how it fits into the long-term view. My friendly neighborhood megalomaniac extrapolated the short term one and we were busy mopping _that_ up over the first few weeks," I said, pulling out a PDA - ironically, one of the ones Stellvia had been giving out as complimentaries to renting clients a while back - and sliding it over.
Noah picked it up, and started going through it, before going bug-eyed. Okay, I didn't think there was anything in there to warrant that sort of reaction.
"Katz, what the _hell_? You're telling me this isn't critical information? If the Boskonians are working on this ..."
He was trying to keep his voice level.
I shuffled my chair back a little, half-stood, and leaned over ...
"Oh," I said. "Right, sorry, wrong file. That's next year's girl."
"Like I said, what the _hell_?!"
"Well, actually, it started off as something to do when I was fighting with the blueprints of the 'Maru," I shrugged, sitting back down. "Just sort of happened when I let my mind wander. Then Mal's report about the maroons trying to reenact their very own Horus Heresy showed up, and ..."
"I'm just trying to come to grips with how an Imperium of Man _Battlebarge_ can just _sort of_ happen ..." Noah trailed off. "And are these ... crewing requirements? Build time and cost projections? Weapons loadout ..."
"... yeah, Kohran caught me around then," I admitted. "Things snowballed."
"... I'll just pretend I didn't see this," he ended with a long-suffering sigh. The PDA changed hands for a moment while I called up the relevant documents. "Aaaaand this reads like some kind of cheap Cold War thriller. Mercenaries and a retired NKWD Colonel? In space?"
"I was thinking more like something out of an Ian Flemming book."
"No, that'd have the head of it be either a mad scientist or a wealthy industrialist of some kind. And seeing as I'm nominally one of the latter, I'd rather it not end up that way, thanks."
"Point, right up to the sexy henchwomen. Anyway, as far as Trigon and Viola could cross reference and follow, there was only a fringe connection to Boskone, and even that just through occasional gun deals. So, I'm sending the memo around for people to check on."
"People, as in ...?"
"People. Some of them of a Mordenesque disposition, others with a decidedly Fnord-ese temperament, if you excuse my Pratchett."
---
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm
Making the universal hand-gesture for so-so, I placed a bookmark and set my reading aside.
"Something about the new fishing rod I've been trying out," I said. "Well, that and he's brining us a variable-gender swordsperson to talk whatever it is over."
"That's all you got from him?" Noah asked.
Alright, so it wasn't exactly in character for me to go on that little info. On the other hand.
"Well, the trip went a bit towards the boonies and I might have dropped my cell along the way, so he went and sent the missive to me via express shipping."
"You're enjoying this cloak and dagger parody entirely too much. Any more and you'd be sticking fake scars to your face and parading around in Matsumoto-ite wear."
"Quite," I grinned. "Anyway, Maetel bumped his wanting to get in touch with me towards the 'Maru, and tagged it with a 'please', and here I am. She's usually right about this sort of thing."
Oddly enough, or maybe not so much when you consider the fact that both myself and the Express were 'under way' eleven months out of every twelve, Noah hadn't ever met Maetel other than in passing, and that had been back at the end of that whole Sauce-Con mess. Come to think of it, I don't think either of us had any sort of free time in the usual understanding of the phrase since that particular cinch.
I frowned. Hell, I'd spent my birthday this year blowing shit up, and while it was sort of therapeutic, it hadn't been terribly relaxing.
"You don't look terribly enthusiastic about it," Noah commented.
"No, that was on a pretty much unrelated tangent. Anyway, did Sora bother you with what I dropped off before I blew out of Stellvia?"
He shook his head. "By the time I was awake and coherent it was high time to get on the way to make it here on time."
"Ah. No worries, then. It wasn't anything immediately critical, just something to forward on to an analyst to see how it fits into the long-term view. My friendly neighborhood megalomaniac extrapolated the short term one and we were busy mopping _that_ up over the first few weeks," I said, pulling out a PDA - ironically, one of the ones Stellvia had been giving out as complimentaries to renting clients a while back - and sliding it over.
Noah picked it up, and started going through it, before going bug-eyed. Okay, I didn't think there was anything in there to warrant that sort of reaction.
"Katz, what the _hell_? You're telling me this isn't critical information? If the Boskonians are working on this ..."
He was trying to keep his voice level.
I shuffled my chair back a little, half-stood, and leaned over ...
"Oh," I said. "Right, sorry, wrong file. That's next year's girl."
"Like I said, what the _hell_?!"
"Well, actually, it started off as something to do when I was fighting with the blueprints of the 'Maru," I shrugged, sitting back down. "Just sort of happened when I let my mind wander. Then Mal's report about the maroons trying to reenact their very own Horus Heresy showed up, and ..."
"I'm just trying to come to grips with how an Imperium of Man _Battlebarge_ can just _sort of_ happen ..." Noah trailed off. "And are these ... crewing requirements? Build time and cost projections? Weapons loadout ..."
"... yeah, Kohran caught me around then," I admitted. "Things snowballed."
"... I'll just pretend I didn't see this," he ended with a long-suffering sigh. The PDA changed hands for a moment while I called up the relevant documents. "Aaaaand this reads like some kind of cheap Cold War thriller. Mercenaries and a retired NKWD Colonel? In space?"
"I was thinking more like something out of an Ian Flemming book."
"No, that'd have the head of it be either a mad scientist or a wealthy industrialist of some kind. And seeing as I'm nominally one of the latter, I'd rather it not end up that way, thanks."
"Point, right up to the sexy henchwomen. Anyway, as far as Trigon and Viola could cross reference and follow, there was only a fringe connection to Boskone, and even that just through occasional gun deals. So, I'm sending the memo around for people to check on."
"People, as in ...?"
"People. Some of them of a Mordenesque disposition, others with a decidedly Fnord-ese temperament, if you excuse my Pratchett."
---
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm