Stars, Jacks and trying times.

[mtjsmith]

New Hong Kong

The main market street of New Hong Kong was awash with people moving in-between each of the stands and various shops. Fresh fish from the unpolluted sea, vegetables from the plantations within the safe zone and electronic gadgets of varying different sizes and types were all for sale. Men and women bustled from place to place as they tried to get home from work or to do their family shopping. At the end of the street, facing the harbour, a series of bars and restaurants catered for the more exotic tastes that the Coalition had to offer.

General Xu, dressed in his civilian attire, made his way calmly along the street. He tried to blend in as best he could without drawing attention. It was difficult. Two junior police officers stopped him to shake his hand, such was his fame. Cautious civilians sidestepped him, such was his infamy. Evenutally he reached his destination, a small bar a couple of streets away from the market. This area of town was less busy, with a completely different style of architecture to its buildings. A sign above his head read "The Red Rose". He entered the bar.

The bar was very Bretonian in its design. Wooden panels made up the bar, while the beer pumps were made of copper and oak. A neural net terminal was displaying highlights of a recent football match on New London. The General watched the match breifly for it struck him as being slightly odd. Ah! The advertising boards are all blurred out, he smirked.

"Can I help ya lad?"
"Dui, I am looking for a John Foster."
"I haven't seen John in quite a while lad."
"That is... unfortunate."
"How so?"
"I have need for his services. A message to be sent urgently."
"And what's wrong with these darlin' machines the Coalition "generously" have given us?"
"For this message needs to reach its intended recipient, without certain parties becoming aware of it."
"Such a thing is highly illegal. And you should, of course, be reported to the officials for evening discussing such a measure."
"And you would, of course, be a model citizen for protecting the peoples interests."

Han took out a small brown envelope, in it contained several images and a small amount of money. The money wasn't an insignificant sum, enough to keep the bartender satisfied for a few months. The pictures, however, were slightly more damning - showing illegal exchanges of goods, meetings of individuals and an illegal neural net tv-caster.

"How did you..."
"There's enough here for your establishment to go out of business very quickly. We have had an eye on here for quite some time. Now, you will do as I ask and you will tell no-one of my visits. I have the power to make your life either extremely comfortable or.. the alternative. Do we have an arrangement?"

Like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an incoming car, the bar-tender froze before sheepishly taking the envelope and lead Han towards a back door behind the bar.

"John. A message needs to go out, first class mail."
"I'm not making another run till next week."
"You are required to bring forward your schedule. I will ensure there are no... delays.. to your departure.
"Who's he?"
"None of your concern. You deliver my message, you receive your credits, no-one loses a limb, understand?"
"Military type are ya? I need guarantees I won't be stopped on the skyward trip to Zhukovsky, or on the return trip!"
"Outbound, no you will not be delayed. Inbound, no promises. Illegal goods coming in are, of course, restricted. Unless you prove yourself to be immensely useful, then I will see to it that your life is comfortable."
"Hrmph. Where's this going, and what does it need to say?"
"It's going to a Admiral Garibaldi. I need it to say this...

--Where will you be, when the sands of your life run out? On the front line, trying to save your nation? What if I could slow that flow of sand? Meet me on Gran Canaria, I know just the spot for dinner. The Premier sends his regards.--

---

[Reverend Del]

Michelle Garibaldi sat in her office overlooking the major conglomeration of new London. She pointedly avoided looking at the mountain of paperwork on her desk, requisition orders, war reports, information that simply told her what she already knew. Losses were bad and Bretonia needed help, serious help. Help Liberty seemed unwilling, or unable, to provide. She had sent Admiral Davis to meet with the RoS and she hoped that this would lead to a greater commitment to fighting the menace that had arrived in Bretonia.

She was interrupted in her musings by her secretary, Molly Malone was snot pretty, Garibaldi prided efficiency over bust size, but she was possessed of an air that suggested work was her be all and end all. Garibaldi knew she'd be lost without this.

"Can I help you Miss Malone?"

Molly saluted.

"ma'am, missive arrived from a courier. trusted sources. Although I don;t trust his point of origin. Addressed for your eyes only ma'am."

Garibaldi took the small crystal and looked at Molly. "You are dismissed."

"Aye Admiral."

Michelle put the crystal into her terminal and watched the short text message roll past her eyes.

"Well well. doors opening all the time. You'd best be prepared to fight Premier Katz." She mused aloud. Thumbing the comm device she barked an order "Malone, prep a ship for travel to Omega-49. Piett will be in charge for the duration of my trip. Do not let him do anything stupid. Also find that courier, and send this reply via him to the source of his original message.

"I will be standing on the front lines of my home. Fighting with all the strength this House can muster. With my allies, and friends beside me. I will be fighting with thoughts of home, of my children and my husband and the life I will be giving them when I win. Dinner sounds lovely. "

---

Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.

[mtjsmith]

Funchal, Planet Gran Canaria

Away from the populated cities of Omega-49 lay smaller and more rural settlements. With a planet the size of old Earth and yet only 1/16th of its population, there were many secluded and hard to get to spots. One could find nearly anything he wished on such a world. Be it calm, peace and loneliness or the hustle and bustle of a growing city. The General preferred the former. During the Dark Civil War days, the CPW-Xi'an was stuck on Omega-49 and it allowed Han to get to the locals of a particular village. It was a little restaurant here which he had selected for dinner.

He had received the reply from the Admiral a day beforehand and had learned a few interesting facts from their opening exchange. Married? Children? And yet still capable of rising to the rank of Admiral besides her obvious maternity needs. Impressive. Or was it desperate? Perhaps the Bretonians really were sinking on a ship that could not be saved.

"Carlos, it has been too long."
"Ah Han the short-arse! Good to see you, you travel light!"
"I have no need to travel heavy here now do I?"
"Of course not. What can I get you?"
"A table for two and your complete discretion. Oh, and some of that delightful pizza of yours that tastes as if it's come from Manhatten itself."
"Over there in the corner."

He quickly made a map of the exits, potential ambush points and sat in a chair and waited for the Admiral.

---