*ring*
*ring*
*click* "Hello?"
"Me again. Can we move that up?"
"Sure."
"9 tonight?"
"Short notice. I should be able to make it, though. Will I be staying with you?"
"Yeah."
"See you there, 'Sci.'"
"Soon, Araneithel."
Araneithel hung up. Sci followed.
The trip was only going to take half an hour or so, so Sci was planning to leave at eight that evening, three hours from now. He and his team would be staying at the Mendellian Mission to the United Nations, which was a short walk from the UN building itself. Sci collected his two bags. One was a medium-sized travel bag with his clothes and toiletries. The other, his satchel, was his personal bag, modeled after that of Ford Prefect: Useful, familiar items, such as books and pens and pencils, covering items that needed to be covered, namely a datapad and recording rod, a glowrod, electrobinoculars, two medpaks, and a few other odds and ends. The highest level of safety was accorded to the things on his person: his comlink, a holdout blaster and a vibroblade, and currency in all its forms.
He stashed his travel bag on the Gaia as he and Nat made their way to the library to find something to read for the journey. Finally, Sci decided on Heinlein's classic The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress, along with a copy of Dumas' Three Musketeers and a volume of Sherlock Holmes to satisfy him while he was away. "After all," he explained to Nat, who expressed doubt that that would be enough, "there will be bookstores in New York City."
She beeped a laugh. "True enough. But then I can't go with you."
"Good point." He grabbed a copy of Gibson's Neuromancer before he left.
In the Palace, the three Field Agents of Terra Group were probably scurrying around, collecting their own belongings and making their own preparations for the journey. Sci's was done, as he now carried the satchel on his back. With the main team having left for Paris already, the Terra Group sectors of the Palace were mostly empty. Sci was merely making sure all of the details were in order. He also checked his Internet mail, news, and other services--and sure enough, another part of Space Pirate Fortuna was scripted. He made sure to get it on his datapad before he left.
Finally, he arrived at the Mess Hall to have dinner. As he had suspected, he wasn't the only one hungry. All three Field Agents were themselves sitting down to eat. Sci pulled up a chair with them.
"Everybody prepared to go?" Nods all around. Sci noticed that though Sylvana was carrying Sci's copy of Ender's Game, she hadn't opened it. "Saving it for the trip?" She nodded. Sci chuckled inwardly. The view from a shuttle at low altitude was splendid, so she wouldn't be getting much reading done in the short trip time. "Well, now that you're here, I might as well explain to you what the four of us will be doing. Our first stop is New York City, where I and an associate will be representing the country of Mendellia in the United Nations General Assembly for a few days. After that, we will depart Terra entirely for Coruscant, so that you can meet some friends, so that I can speak with my superiors, and so that you, Ms. Brown, can take a few refresher courses in computer systems." They nodded, obviously excited that they were going to travel through space. "We leave in an hour."
An hour later, everybody was assembled in the Palace hangar. The Palace had two areas from which ships could be launched: the official Palace hangar, which they were now in, had a cordoned-off section from which non-Terran vessels could be launched without attracting too much suspicion. The Bat-Cave hangar was underwater, and from there ships like X-Wings and Brad's Bat-Wing could be launched in secret.
Sci led them into the Gaia and headed into the cockpit. Nat rolled into the astromech slot, and Sci helped her switch to her astrogation ME as he went into preflight. When everything checked out OK, he commed the Palace, gave them a send-off, and blasted out of the hangar.
As was becoming habit, when it came to matters of books, Sci was right on the money. Once clear of Mendellia, Sci had activated the partial cloak, which still allowed visibilty from inside, and everybody had been glued to the viewports, watching first ocean, then land, fly by. Within a half an hour, they were nearing New York City. Sci punched the cloak up a bit stronger as he aimed for a landing on the roof of the Mendellian Mission. The landing was, of course, smooth. Between his own skills and those of Nat, there were no troubles. Sci told everyone to simple drop off their bags--he kept his satchel, of course--before they left the Mission and boarded a subway train for Grand Central Station. Sylvana was a particular joy then--she had her nose in the book so thoroughly that it took Arrek and Bethany together to make sure that they kept up with Sci.
As they approached the main information desk at Grand Central Station, a young man of about medium height, with brown skin, glasses, a black overcoat, and a backpack, broke away from the crowds and approached. He stopped and held out his hand, which Sci took. That lasted for about a second until they hugged, meeting like old close friends. Sci then pulled himself up and turned to the agents. "Ladies and gentleman, may I introduce Araneithel, or Aran, my colleague and friend." Bethany sketched a quick curtsey, and Arrek shook Aran's hand. Syl, who was still engrossed in the book, waved distractedly. Aran smiled.
"Where's the enemy gate?" he said.
"Down, sir." Then realising what she'd done, Sylvana finally looked up, blushing slightly.
Aran's general look was vaguely that of the Indian subcontinent, but his voice was cultured, clean English, with no trace of an accent. Then a cell phone rang. Aran rummaged around in his pocket until he came up with the device. He quickly spoke into it in a language that was certainly not Romance. Arrek simply stared at the confusing, rapid-fire speech. He closed the phone, and Sci chuckled. "I could never follow you when you spoke in Bengali." He turned to the Agents. "Aran here is from Bangladesh, grew up in Thailand."
"And before you ask," cut in Aran, "yes, in the new climate of keeping the country safe, with my look and demeanor, I'm at risk for an unpleasant run-in. My parents changed their phone number and made it unlisted to avoid possible hate crimes. Not that I'm worried, but you can never be too careful."
"On that note, let us return to our base of operations while we're here. You have your stuff?" Aran nodded. "Good."