A set of cold and calculating eyes stared directly at Ops Manager Suol Gatrieun by sheer force of will as the light of a comm pad played across the young woman’s face, casting shadows and arcs of light that in any other situation would be eerily beautiful. But lavish displays of ocular beauty were the last thing on the mind of Marie Touvet as she delivered her news and recommendations to her superior while simultaneously downloading data and reports from the final hours of Karin Midular’s mortal life within the confines of the hospital and the reactions within the Republic and Minmatar communities within the Federation. The more she processed, the harder it become to maintain her usual demeanor of professionalism and cold, cut throat decisiveness. The same characteristics that helped boost her to the position of power she now sat in slowly crumbled away as the voice of a million people cried out in demand for retribution.
“The fact of the matter is that she died under our care and there’s no sugar coating it. Our focus should be on what can do now in terms or strategic influence and public data given the current situation, because right now I’m seeing sentiment and attitude fluctuations from all across the net where there was absolutely nothing before,” she uttered in a monotone and controlled voice, one which masked her current state of mind well.
She knew who she worked for, she knew what her job was, and she was ready to die protecting her home. Despite this resolution, her inner mind played with her and tormented her soul, churning her stomach for all the world like an industrial vat of very volatile chemicals. Karin Midular was dead, and the Federation’s role in her death was beginning to be voiced by the public despite a lack of solid evidence to implicate them.
Suol’s eyes had glazed over while he digested the information sent from Marie as she received it in real time. The pair sat in a darkened meeting room within the hospital which had been set aside for Federal security and intelligence personnel to use with all the bells and whistles to ensure no sound was heard or bit of data was sent out from the room. His brow furrowed as he continued to process all that he could in the short time he had, an odd respite from the coming tempest to follow the death of the Ray of Matar.
“We handle it as we’re ordered to. The press black out is still seemingly in place, but the GalNet continues to have minor bursts of leaked data,” he said in a low, almost growl of a voice. Anyone else would think the Manager angry, but Marie knew that this was his calm and contemplative voice, roughened from far too many cigarettes and far too much alcohol consumed to lessen the stress inherent in their jobs. “Where that data is coming from is up in the air for now, but Sub-Division 3 is working on finding the source and neutralizing it. For now, we guard the body until further notice.”
“I understand that sir, but with all due respect, our job has been data manipulation as well as monitoring support for security here. I don’t see how this situation could be manipulated at all to prevent discontent. It is my firm belief tha-“ was all she could utter before being gruffly cut off by her superior.
“Your job isn’t to believe, it’s to follow orders. Got it? The situation’s bad, it’s going to get worse. This is beyond our little team’s scope, well beyond. We’re out of it now as the leaders and we follow our orders to the letter from here on in,” he said in a clear and annoyed growl, his previous expression of planning and thought replaced with a subtle but frightening scowl. “There’s already stirring in the Republic. Ships, armed, moving to our borders. At this point we simply follow orders from superiors well above us, no matter what.”
Marie’s right eye twitched slightly as the churning in her stomach became faster and more painful, increasing the difficulty of concealing it. She tapped on her comm pad a few times, faking note taking to direct her mind away from breakdown and towards the matter at hand. “Understood. I apologize for my imposition.”
Suol rubbed at his old and tired gray eyes, framed by the wrinkles of experiences and years. “You have nothing to apologize for, you were trained that way. Autopilot and all that…shit. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
“Look, you’re nervous. Hide it all you want but you are. I am too. I have more FIO weirdo’s coming in here almost every hour, just trickling in. And now some group I’ve never even heard of is coming in. Sub-Division 7, some research part of the FIO. I’m not going to ask, I’m not going to even look. Right now, my concern is making sure my team does as it needs and gets out of this unscathed if possible.” Suol shifted in his seat as he pulled out a small white pack and flicked it with his wrist to force a thin black, green, and red tube out.
He pulled the cigarette out between his lips and shifted again to reach his lighter as he spoke. “Selfish, maybe. But at this point with all this shit going on, I’m willing to be. All this stunk since day one when she got shot and we didn’t even get the info we normally get. When we’re not getting the whole picture, something’s not right.” Suol flicked his lighter, allowing the ensuing flame to engulf the tip of the cigarette for a split second before flicking it once more in a quick metallic snap before taking a deep drag and exhaling thick smoke. “Don’t even have a picture of the perp, or a name. Not even a damn gender. But if the spooks are coming in person now instead of just holding information from whatever gods damned shady place they work from, shit’s going south…”
Marie nodded in silent confirmation with eyes fixated on her superior. She quickly and carefully pushed back a lock of black hair that had loosened from the nod while keeping her attention on Suol. Her stomach churned harder. She didn’t know why, but the more he talked, the more nervous she became. Of all the operations and missions she’d executed in the past without so much as a second thought, why was this one playing games with her mind? She needed to get out. She couldn’t take it any longer.
“Understood, sir. I’ll have my people on standby ready to follow orders per your command,” she said in her flat voice, calling on every fiber of her being not to break down right at that table. “Anything else , sir?”
Suol sighed and stared at the cigarette in his hand, the red and green stripes pulsing light up the black paper of the cigarette to the filter from the burning tip. “That’s all for now. Just keep your head on and eyes open. Don’t do anything brash and keep your head low for now. Not your style I know, not mine either. But we play this by ear ‘til we get better intel. Dismissed.”
Marie stood and saluted to her superior before pushing the chair aside to turn on her heel and head for the door. Once outside the meeting room, she maintained her cold and solid attitude with what was left of her will before marching past nurses, doctors, and black suited FIO personnel to find the most remote bathroom in the hospital she could find.
*********
Marie’s stomach wretched in pain as she doubled over above the toilet in the small bathroom in the hospital, vomiting what little food she had eaten with a greater amount of stomach bile than she anticipated. She hadn’t eaten much that day, but her stomach acted as if she’d devoured a rotten meal with no misgivings of the consequences. It wanted to punish her for her irresponsible ways. This feeling hadn’t surfaced in years for Marie, not since her university days where she could not control her anxiety or paranoia. This case, this situation, now blown beyond proportions of control was alien to her. The concept of not being in control annihilated her sense of confidence. She had failed her duties; she had failed to control the information.
Or did she? What if they wanted it out? What if they wanted her dead? What if they protected the assassin? What if they were being led on? What if she was shot? What if she kept thinking these thoughts? What happened to her training? Why does she want to throw up again?
Before the continued bout of paranoia could continue to assail her psyche, she found herself doubled over again, dry heaving what little bile was left as tears welled in her eyes and her vision blurred and darted. No, this couldn’t happen, this couldn’t end this way. She had a job to do. She had to stand tall. She couldn’t lose control. She continued to repeat these affirmations of her duty and abilities as she donned her jacket once more and smoothed her dress pants. She flushed the remains of her mental break down the toilet and quietly opened the stall door. She stared at herself in the mirror with forced cold and calculating eyes while she adjusted her hair to conform to the standards suitable of an Officer.
One more deep breath. One more affirmation. She is who she is. And she is the best.
She straightened her stance and turned on her heel as she headed out of the bathroom and into the hall. She took a quick glance around the white corridor to take inventory of anyone or anything nearby. But all that could be seen was a standard security camera and a janitor walking towards her with a tight cap work gloved hands. He carried a standard cleaning drone. With a nod to her he side stepped Marie and entered the woman’s bathroom, tapping an unseen spot on the entryway to bring up an entopic overlay across the door to inform would be users that the facility was currently being cleaned. Once in the bathroom, Marie turned her head away and strode to the corridor exit, her heels clicking against the floor in a quick, professional walk. The kind of walk that said she was busy, that she was in control, that she had a duty to do. She reached into her pocket for her comm pad to check current task status as she felt her stomach once more drop and her face drain of blood.
Where did it go? No not again. Not again. It’s locked though, nothing could break it. But what if they did, oh gods what if…
But as her confidence began to slowly crack again, she turned around with a slightly crazed look to the sound of a polite cough behind her. The capped janitor stood there, donned in his blue coveralls and work gloves, holding out a thin black pad no larger than half a sheet of paper. “Sorry ma’am, I found this in the bathroom. Is it yours?”
Relief. Clarity. A simple janitor acting in kindness relieved all the pressures she felt on her shoulders but a second ago. The weight of the world lifted by a nobody. Her façade softened as her body relaxed and her sight returned to normal. “Y-yes. Thank you,” she said, taking the pad from him.
“Oh no problem, happens all the time!” he said in a young and jovial voice, the kind of voice that reflected not a care in the world. He had a simple job, a simple life, and a simple mind. How she envied this at times. She nodded and turned on her heel, once again striding to the corridor exit, back into hospital’s more busy areas, back into the bustle and insanity that was her duty. She didn’t know why this case made her crumble nor why her team seemed to be pulled along by a leash held by an unknown owner. But this wasn’t the time for that line of thought.
The time was for executed action on her orders. She continued to stand straight as she exited the corridor, the doors sliding shut behind her to separate Marie and the present from her useless paranoia laden past, and to separate her complex and rewarding life from the life of a simple and kind janitor. A janitor who turned back towards the task of cleaning a woman’s bathroom at a hospital he just started at today, and who would stay not even a whole work day.
A janitor who leaned against a wall within the bathroom to block the view of any latent security observation systems aside from the obvious ceiling cameras.
A janitor who’s cleaning drone was modified to falsify passive scans.
A janitor who took off his work gloves and reached into a pocket in his overalls to pull out a clear glass pad the size of a wallet crammed with newly acquired information.
A janitor who pushed the brim of his cap up with a black bandage wrapped finger to get a better view of what might have happened to Karin Midular from the data that scrolled on the tab held tightly in his other bound and wrapped hand.
A janitor who was just a simple man with occasional bouts of curiosity.
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Topic: The Simple Man (Read 1089 times)