House of Records
The Citadel region — Caldari Border Zone constellation
Hatakani system — Planet VI — Moon 4
Hyasyoda Corporation Refinery station
7 June YC 127
While Immuri Asaka was conferring with his superiors, I went out in search of accommodation. I checked GalNet reviews and found a few hotels recommended by capsuleers. Then I cross-referenced them with the bar directory I was studying earlier that day and discovered that each of the hotels had a top-rated bar.
That’s all you need to know about capsuleers’ choices, I thought to myself and booked a room at The Kyonoke Spire.
True to its name, the hotel was located at the very top of the tower-like construction and boasted panoramic views from its bar where I spent an evening watching Hyasyoda crowd. I found them more reserved than staffers in other corporations. There were no bursts of laughter or any signs of merrymaking. The conversations were quiet, the faces sober. It looked like people came to the bar to continue their work rather than to relax after a hard day. There were a few loners like me sipping their drinks at the bar, but they avoided locking eyes with me, avoiding casual acquaintanceship. Eventually I got bored and retired to my room early.
Next day I received a message from Immuri asking me to visit him at my earliest convenience. That was unexpected — I thought he would take more time analysing the datacores.
“How are you going with the analysis?” I asked hopefully as I entered the agent’s office.
Immuri drew his hands across his face and massaged tired eyes.
“I am not going anywhere with those datacores,” he sighed, “until I solve the problem with the little bastards you saw in the deadspace pocket.”
“Isn’t it the commander of the fleet who should be losing sleep over it?”
“He should but he doesn’t. After I raised this issue with my supervisor — thanks, by the way, for flagging it — she immediately realised the danger and called the fleet commander. He dismissed our concerns and told us in no uncertain terms to mind our own business. Terms like ‘station rats’ were used to articulate the depth of our incompetence,” the agent said dryly.
“Ouch,” I said sympathetically, “but I still don’t understand how it is your problem.”
“It is the my boss’s boss’s problem. Among other things, he is responsible for the security in this system and, naturally, charged my supervisor with resolving the issue before it becomes an incident. My boss is, too, not a stranger to delegation, so the drone problem fell into the lap of yours truly.”
“And your supervisor, did she give you a fleet… a batteship… a frigate?”
Immuri shook his head, “No, we don’t have such resources, but we do have our own methods. You don’t need to have authority to make someone do what you want. All it takes is a bit of money and a capsuleer willing to earn it,” he winked at me conspiratorially.
My jaw dropped.
“Do you want me to take on the whole drone hive?”
The agent laughed, “Oh no. What I had in mind was a bit more subtle, and a lot less dangerous. Look, I need to find an approach to Vitimala — that’s the fleet commander. If he has a hidden agenda which influences his decisions, I must know it. Then I can steer things in the right direction. But first we need to dig up his background — his family, connections, career — all the good stuff which one typically finds in a military personnel file.”
“Excuse me,” I said incredulously, “are you saying that pilfering a file from the Navy archives is less dangerous than attacking the drones? I have to disagree — I better get killed by the swarm and be re-cloned than spend the next 20 years rotting in jail.”
“Whoa there!” Immuri threw his hands in the air. “Why do you keep jumping to conclusions? No one asks you to hack Navy HR system. I have a contact in House of Records who has access to the information I need. She will extract it and cover the tracks. All you need to do is deliver a package from her to me. Are you game?”
I hesitated, “Sounds rather straightforward.”
“It is. Officially, it will be a regular courier mission. Just go to this station,” the agent sent me the coordinates, “collect the parcel and bring it back to me.”
I checked the pick-up location on my datapad and raised an eyebrow, “Imperial Armaments Factory in Chainelant? Globalisation or not, I can’t believe the Navy stores their archives on an Amarrian station in Gallente space.”
“Of course not! I am not going to send you to House of Records — it will be too suspicious. After all, the Navy has its own counterintelligence department, and I don’t want them wondering what business my contractor has at the House. No, my contact will travel to Chainelant and leave the file there for you. You won’t even see her.”
I shrugged, “Well, if you say so. When will the parcel be ready?”
“Give me a week or two to organise it.”
I snorted, “What? Do you need the stars to align for the success of this mission?”
“No,” Immuri answered tersely, “I need the mission approval papers to align with the signature of my boss’s boss, and he is a busy man.”
19 June YC 127
The agent had a predilection for cloak-and-dagger drama. “Today is the day” was a cryptic message I received from him on 19th June. I sighed and went to the docks where I boarded Kaukokärki. I undocked and made three jumps to Imperial Armaments Factory in Chainelant system. There was a small package waiting for me in my items hangar. Without leaving the ship, I instructed the stevedores to load the parcel to my cargo hold and departed. Back at Hyasyoda Refinery, I collected it from the hold and brought it to Immuri’s office.
Putting the parcel on his table, I said, “One more mission like this, and I’ll open a delivery corp and charge you Black Frog fees.”
“In such case, I will rather hire Black Frog,” retorted Immuri opening the box which contained a small datacore.
He inserted the core into a slot in his datapad and started browsing its contents. I tried to peek at the screen but Immuri shielded it with his hand.
“Hey, this is classified information,” he objected.
I snorted, “I could take a look at it any time while it was in my cargo hold.”
“No, you couldn’t. The data was encrypted. It was actually for your benefit — if anyone intercepted you with this core they would never be able to prove that you were smuggling secret information.”
“Alright,” I said leaning back in the chair, “can you at least tell me if this info is of any help?”
Immuri raised his hand indicating that he was busy reading. A few minutes passed before he lifted his eyes from the screen.
“Yes and no,” he said.
“Tell me about ‘yes’.”
“We now know all about Vitimala’s career. He is totally inept as a fleet commander and the only reason he reached his current rank is because of his connections.”
“And this is unhelpful how? Surely, we can get him replaced if he is unqualified for the job.”
“No, we can’t, again because of his connections.”
“So, what do we do?” I asked, frustrated.
“Me, I need to think,” answered Immuri. “As to you, just enjoy your well-earned mission reward. It’s not Black Frog–grade but should be good for a beer or two.”