I started writing this when I got back from Africa in February, but I couldn't figure out what the dialog should be between a daughter and a father who's abandoned his work for a year. But now it occurs to me, they probably had the same problem.
Upt III, the Khanid Kingdom
The thick blue wool carpeting muffled her approach. It likely would've been near-silent anyways, given the active noise control devices built into her shoes--two-inch wedges that added to the intimidating effect of her already-tall frame--and the caution with which she was now moving. That caution was warranted, given how many things here were out of place: not just the insanely expensive wool sheared from the Milerar plateau on the other side of the planet, but the man she was here for, and the woman herself.
Unfortunately, the facial recognition algorithms caught onto that latter fact before she made it across the lobby.
"Excuse me ma'am!" called the receptionist on duty, responding to the alert from his terminal. "Can I help you?"
The woman mentally cursed, but physically pivoted in an instant, losing no momentum as she recalculated her path and strode to a stop in front of the desk. From underneath jet black bangs, her deep blue eyes scanned his nametag, and she answered him in crisp Amarrish. "Special Agent Czar with the Directive Enforcement Department, Mr. Halsu." Identity verification flashed on the receptionist's screen. "There is a wanted capsuleer in your establishment."
It was a race between the young man's eyes and mouth to see which could go wider faster as he murmured, "Shouldn't security be here?"
The DED agent interposed her hand between his and the terminal before he could summon them. "No need. Whatever you may have heard--and whatever they claim--capsuleers are generally not physically dangerous."
He nodded weakly. "Oh...kay. Do you...need me to look up a room number?"
"No, Mr. Halsu, but CONCORD appreciates your assistance." She pivoted again and stepped into an elevator, leaving Kosin Halsu with a physically overpowering sense of trepidation. He eventually decided to call the manager.
It took her fourty-six seconds to slice the encryption on the door lock; that was, after all, her real job with the DED. She took a deep breath, as much proof against the 100-proof air that was seeping out of the room as to prepare herself for whatever was inside.
The light coming in from the hallway illuminated the back of a black leather couch in front of a muted holoscreen playing the latest Shona Blackjack vehicle, a heist flick involving a Talocan relic and a string of miscalculated machinations between Gurista- and Cartel-affiliated gangs. From the other side of the couch, an arm levered up like a mangonel--interrupting Shona's realization that her sidekick had left the incriminating photos she'd spent the first act acquiring inside the aircar that they'd just dumped into the river--and sending a coffee mug arcing through the air, which she unnecessarily ducked. The second projectile, a green bottle, was luckier, striking her square on the medial epicondyle of the humerus, as the man on the couch knew it, or the funnybone, as pretty much everyone else did.
"Goddamnit Daddy, cut that out!"
Bleary eyes peered over the back of the couch. "Annara? What the hell are you doing here?"
Rubbing her elbow, she pointed out that, "A girl has a right to visit her father on his birthday."
"Yeah, bu-"
"We're CONCORD. It's our job to know where you are. Especially," and here mild reproach crept into her tone, "when you use the same ID over and over, 'Soyako-haan'. I mean really. You may be the worst spy ever."
He sat up. "Can't say I'm ashamed of that. Well, come in?"
She walked over to the couch and sat down. It was fairly easy, as all the mess seemed to be confined to her father and the spray of bottles on the coffee table: Kimotoro Black Label, Piak vodka, hak'len, Starsi Silver Label, zydrine wine, rock whiskey, several local vintages, and some without any labels at all.
"You should drop some of these in the disposal, you're going to run out of shelf space soon."
"Haven't made it over there yet."
She glanced at the disposal, ten feet away. "How long has this been accumulating?"
"Four days."
She grimaced. "Right."
They sat silently for several moments, which he capitalized on to pick some grime out of his fingernail before eventually working up the courage to look her in the face. "Sorry, honey." He squinted in the gloom. "Err...What's with the eyes?"
She smiled. "I'm a better spy than you are."
"Fair enough."
Another minute came and went. The woman stood up. "Well. When you get tired of this. Lots of people would like to have you back around."
Author
Topic: [Character] Ze'ev Sinraali (Read 611 times)