<div align="right]...Bretonian Core Space
...New London System
...Planet New London, Government District
...Home Office of Military Intelligence
Tuesday, 0500 Hours
It was a normal Tuesday morning. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon as people showed up to begin their days work. Normal lives compared to those being sacrificed in the nearby Leeds system. War was so close to home for many people, yet so far away that they didn't feel it was necessary to live in fear. It would reach them soon enough, a thought they attempted to keep in the back of their minds. A thought these people had to deal with every day in the field of espionage and intelligence gathering. These few had to distract themselves with protecting the very house they served. At whatever cost.
"Good morning Director Lawson. Ready for your first day on the job?"
A young lady, who seemed to be in her mid-twenties, smiled lightly as Regis Lawson entered the room and proceeded towards the recipients desk. He looked up at her coldly, "Good morning." He mumbled, placing a card on her desk and she quickly scanned it, a nearby door opened up after buzzing loudly and Regis took his card off the desk and slipped it back into his pocket.
He walked through the door, which just began closing after he passed through them. It seemed the rumors that he wasn't the type for small talk, were actually true. She glanced quickly back to see him disappear into the elevator. "Must be a tough job." She mumbled to herself, curling a lock of hair and turning her attention back to the people that were just beginning to enter.
0505 Hours
The elevator doors parted rather slowly. He was a patience man when he wanted to, but today wasn't the day for patience. In exactly an hour he had to meet with a small group of people he personally selected for this project he's been planning for a few months. With that fool Norrington out of the way, he could finally push his plans forwards, and get the ball rolling, which he already begun with the transmission to Border Worlds shipping. Finally the doors finished opening and he stepped out of the elevator, walking swiftly to his office, and then entering inside, shutting the door behind him.
He sat his case down on one of the chairs immediately to his left and proceeded over to his desk, turning the terminal on. He drew a breath in as he took off his jacket and placed it on the back of the chair. He stood there looking around the room for a couple of minutes before finally walking over to the suitcase and bringing it back over to his desk and laying it down.
Slowly, he sat down in the leather chair and looked over at the terminal. Three transmissions were waiting to be viewed, two were on the encrypted channel that was originally directed to Bowex, the third was on another highly encrypted channel.
He read the message, and nodded to himself. The details of the message itself were classified. Though it was done never-the-less. "Well, they can always provide some use." He said looking at the assortment of paper that piled his desk.
His eyes scanned the various folders and loose leaf paper, until they landed on the one he wanted. He reached for it and picked it up, then reached for a pen, the paper itself was authorization the general use of a former Armed Forces gunboat, to be handed over to the Mandalorians, upon completion of their mission. Which was completed by all means, they just needed to finish the last leg. After signing his name, he sat the paper and pen down, then looked back at the terminal. "Reply to message three."
The Terminal changed, and began recording him. After a few minutes, he finally ended the transmission, smiling briefly to himself before turning away from the terminal. He drew in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. Looking around the room for anything that could prepare him for his speech. He, of course, knew that nothing currently in the room would help him at all, let alone remotely. So he stood up, taking the signed piece of paper with him, and walked over to the door, pushing it open and walking out of the room. "Miss Winters. Nice to see you here early." He said with a small hint of sarcasm, as he approached her desk.
"Oh! Director, I wasn't aware you were here already." She said, looking up rather quickly, nearly spilling her cup of tea. She put on a rather quick smile in an attempt to diffuse the situation.
"Good Morning to you too." He said placing the paper on her desk. "I need this sent out to the Mandalorians. Obviously for them to know that their requested Gunboat is available for them."
She raised her eyebrow, taking the paper from the Director's hand, "We're giving them a Gunboat?" She said, looking at the paper, quickly reading it, and then looked up at the Director. He nodded, "We are. Now change of subject, has the board of Operation Mayflower been briefed about the meeting today?"
She nodded, pulling something up on the terminal, "All of them have, sir."
"Good. I'll be in my office if anything changes." He said, smiling lightly, probably the only smile that she'll ever see. He put his hands behind his back and started walking back to his office, heading inside and shutting the door behind him.
For nearly the past hour he sat, waiting in his office for when the meeting would begin. Of course, it wasn't until another thirty minutes had passed. He drew in a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. Amongst other things within Bretonia, other problems. One issue still lingered, one that never seemed to be settled.
A political figure head. A certain Sir Mark Howe. He lifted up the portfolio he had on the man and shook his head, opening the file and looking at the information that laid internally. He sighed again, he knew he didn't like the man, and he knew he was in the position to take the man out to put a more reliable source in a diplomatic position. Yet, aside from Mister Howe's abrasive actions, and threats, there was no evidence that he could place on the diplomat to remove him, a thought however did cross Regis's mind, but he shrugged it off, he wasn't about to kill a man to remove him from the diplomatic society. Drastic measures that didn't need to be taken, yet at least.
Until the official order came down to have the man removed, Regis couldn't touch him. Legally. Though the small smile did make it's appearance on his face. Fabrication. He laid the portfolio down and picked up the pen he had earlier, writing the idea across the top of the portfolio itself. An idea that could easily ruin the mans reputation, and shame him out of the scene. The idea itself was still in the stage of birth. But never-the-less it was an idea he was worth attempting.
Glancing over at the time, Regis realized that for the past twenty minutes, he was idolizing his own idea. He shook his head and placed the pen down, then slowly stood up, fixing his jacket. He proceeded towards the door, opening it and stepped out of his office shutting the door behind him.
"They're waiting, Sir." "Good. Let's get this started then."
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