62 \ 244

Getting there went well, for being a high-risk detail. The location was accurate, and verifiable. It was no trouble using their particular means of new physics, recently reiterated to a version that required only arm motions for rhythmic human bio-dynamic jump input. They’d been given generally favorable conditions. They were suspended in placid awaiting, safely out of range of the fracas they knew they were entering. Gretz, Wendel, and Leiv broke open a snack to share.

Karma Ilacqua was glad things had gone well. That, not completion, was the high point of her work. Work was never over, but do it well and die happy. Her stakeout standoff copter had gotten a relief substitute in the faceoff formation; this had occurred regularly for the legitimate protecting interests, but not for the Foundational threat. Going on the most conservative measures, they still only had so much time. Karma’s double-piloted copter did some advanced yet subtle instrument-jamming trail coverup getting to the rendezvous. What was happening in this world? How was this her life? Karma usually likes thinking this while life is amazing. This was amazing, alright. Whatever it was had to be, for this. Did anyone really know? It was just that good on spec?

The Starweavers had been warned in the hiring document, but they didn’t have all the details yet. High tension. Multiple concerned parties. Varied equipment. Why were they doing this again? There weren’t a lot of ideas out there, and this was suspiciously yet conveniently at their fingertips. They had the full capability, and they were experienced habitual de-escalators. Them Kao-Sidhe could never really even tell you what they were doing, just that they were doing it. Cryptic situational prophecy was the most exact communication of their work that they could possibly deliver. Things like this made one think they might have just realized what those fey folk had been talking about, maybe. Or did they actually even say something like this exactly, or was it just a thought? Some specifics were unnecessary, and should not be pursued. That was Wendel’s way, anyway.

Karma took a platform skipper from her chopper into the ship called Drift. This outfit had just been well upgraded. Good. That could do it. Holy smokes. When she saw the three adults staffing this ship, she had that hiring jackpot feeling. Get them.

She got them with honesty, a well balanced and direct assessment. Their risk was secondary but acute. A courier role, from the thick of airborne tension to the aquatic heart of the matter; carrying what may or may not be the most valuable object of the current moment, still yet unknown to the opposition but now present in the engineered stalemate. The three took in all of this with the visible wisdom of experience, and the willingness of the peaceably damned. They filled in the new hire details in her custom-programmed contract wizard. Some terms of payment were gladly adjusted to reflect their high grade of equipment and skill. Karma wanted to shake hands a second time. They did.

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