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Slacker's, 34th Avenue and 10th Street
St. Williams, Coventry
Slacker's was a open-air front sandwich shop on the corner of 34th Avenue and 10th Street, where 34th ran into MidTown. Vegemite, kangaroo, corned beef, secret sauce, the works. Pastries, coffee, tea and blended fruit drinks attracted a breakfast crowd.
Across 34th, St. Williams Mass Transit streetcars ferried University students and Technology Park visitors to and from Downtown and Government Centre.
A man dressed in a business suit munched on a vegamite sandwich. He tried not to make a face after another quarter of the pastry disappeared into his mouth. After a swallow followed by chaser of fruit juice, he spoke at his comlink.
"Yes, Hauptmann, it is a serious matter. I am taking it seriously."
The man leaned back in the plastic patio chair outside on the sidewalk. Across the street, a cinderblock wall covered a construction site. Another rebuilding opportunity, courtesy of Clan Jade Falcon. Nobody seemed to get the point though. The cinderblock was covered in graffiti. The largest example, dominating the center of the chaotic manage of slogans and cartoons was a metal-clad Steiner fist with it's middle finger stuck out and the words, "But What About Peter?" written in gothic script around the outside. University anarchists and gangmembers were no political party worth encouraging. A strong hand was needed to guide the Alliance through it's growing pains. The man understood tough love.
Tough love was, you could say, Lohengren's motto. Tough love was for grateful patriots like himself, not these idealistic parlor punks. He spoke quickly and decisively.
"Alert Baker Team. Have them ready to fly in an hour. They will overwatch when we get up there to try to get a look at the cargo. Get the birds spooling up at Port St. Williams. Echo Team will be lifting in 30 minutes. Tell everybody to have their asses in the helos by liftoff-thirty or their are getting left here to take a friggin' taxi."
The man laid some cronur on the table and left the unfinished sandwich behind, then trotted behind Slacker's to the parking lot. He climbed into an expensive looking hover sedan. It rose on it's fans and quickly darted into the 34th Ave high-speed lane.
This thing really belonged to another branch, he reflected, but his Teams were the ones qualified to take down a DropShip on the ground. If somebody could fish a warrant out of their ass. He doubted anyone was going to want to just straight-up raid the Fort. He chuckled as he wove through the mid-morning traffic. Somebody said this new knight up there holding the fort had seen some serious sh*t in the Clan War. He tried to keep up with the reading, he really did, but in the end, choosing targets was above his pay-grade. What mattered was the Alliance, and the Archon, not his opinion.
If a lesson needed to be taught up at Fort Placer, the Hauptmann had called the right Team Leader.