Nha Tranh Spaceport...
There was a lot of construction going on...or rather, a lot of re construction. Foundations that had been all that was left of the Star League era cargo terminal were now hosting the rising skeletons of new construction, the hulking shapes of machinery that had been stripped before the end of the First succession war loomed in the cages of structure beams and ferrocrete forms. Workers in hard-hats, and construction vehicles roamed wide stretches around the port's grounds.
Daphne had studied on the weeks long trip here, and she knew-most of those projects had been approved and scheduled during Katrina Steiner's reign, only to be de-funded frequently in favor of other concerns.
a tug vehicle towing a Buccaneer class dropship showed other changes from not even two years ago. When she'd come here to try and get Liz to help with the 23rd Arcturan Guard's situation, almost none of the visible infrastructure was in place, the dropship she'd arrived on had to use their engines to taxi to an open space near the shed-like "Terminal" buildings.
This time, a concourse bridge on rollers was swinging to meet the personnel lock, and it led straight into a three story tall, kilometer long, modern Port Facility.
Practically a copy of the Nashan sponsored passenger terminal on Alarion.
She caught a reflection in one of the windows. reinforced Ferroglass. strong enough to weather the blast of a dropship's engine at close quarters, if it's thick enough.
Daphne and her staff worked their way to the exit lock, and into the terminal itself.
cool air, in February on Kowloon, cool air means air conditioning. February is high summer in Nha Tranh. Inside the terminal, muted colors and short, dense padded carpeting, though none of the abstract artwork so popular in high-end terminals, the walls inside were a mix of bare brickwork framing photos and images of different places and times in the planet's history, mixed with flat-screens that acted like bulletin boards for local businesses, hotels, shops, and local manufacturers.
This, too, was a change. the Old port had a small kiosk near the doors, and the customs inspection was right at the entry. Here, she had to walk for nearly twenty five meters to reach a modern multiscanner with a team of four.
"Passport or identicard, ma'am?" the woman manning the checkpoint wasn't here when she went through last time.
Daphne presented her AFFC identicard.
"Oh! You're expected!" the woman said, "Take the red line on the floor and follow it, you don't need a baggage check."
Daphne followed the civil servant's instruction, and realized she'd been reaching for a billfold of her own accord, only to NOT be asked for the usual 'gratuities'.
The red line led to a door in the ferroglas wall, and it opened when she swiped her AFFC Identicard's RFID chip in front of a standard reader-the kind you usually find in the armory of a military base, or 'mech bay.
through the doors, she entered a lounge. One area was glassed in, with people enjoying tobacco and cannabis products, subconsciously, she noted that the vent-hood's filtering must be maintained, because it wasn't lingering in a haze in spite of the mandatory pressure sealing.
She's done this in two years. and then, Daphne caught sight of the airport's security personnel.
The uniforms were crisp, professional, and almost more business suits than combat boots...except for the ones who were three meters tall and chromed. She paused, her aide almost running into her, and studied them.
The chromed guards had an almost-smock-like covering, as light tan as the human uniforms, with a Leatherette Sam Browne style belt rig. Like their human counterparts, they carried a pistol-shaped 'lectra-dart stunner in an open holster on one side, and a rubberized wooden baton on the other, and like their human counterparts, they wore a simple, circular badge on the left breast pocket of their uniform blouse, with a nametag on the right, when one of the guards turned, she saw the words "Port Police" stenciled in english across the back at shoulder level.
Elizabeth's influence there...or maybe more to the point, the things the girl insisted 'ought to be'-such as separating the Military, Militia, and Police into unique entities.
"Lot to take in, huh, Herr Kommandant?" a voice buzzed. Daphne almost jumped out of her skin at the person who materialized beside her. Shoulder-length black hair framed a face made of medical myomers and poorly done grafts, the eyes were black, seemed lidless, and were fused into the sockets.
"Colonel Evelynn Mosovich, Kowloon Militia." a hand was extended.
"Kommandant Daphne Rowe, Inspector General's office of the AFFC..."
"Welcome to Kowloon, Kommandant. I was surprised they'd send you, someone up the chain must've been impressed you could get the Duchess moving that fast."
Daphne couldn't keep from staring..."your..face?"
"Tamar. Small laser through the vision blocks on a third model Patton during the evacuation." Mosovich explained, "They managed to keep me alive but I'd be blind and in agony if someone hadn't stepped in with a lot of experimental medical tech. I'm technically retired from the AFFC, but you know how it is, an eight year tour isn't gonna generate much in the way of a pension."
Daphne fell in step beside the Militia Colonel. "So...you're The Evelynn Mosovich." she said, regaining some of her composure.
"Yeah, the holos don't do justice to just how bad it looks, do they?"
"You're also the designated replacement for the Duchess as her heir, I kind of skimmed the images and read the file. It seems odd she'd pick someone older than she is to be her heir."
"I'll outlive Liz, barring getting shot or having an accident." Evelynn told her, "That's guaranteed. I'm not happy about that."
Mosovich led her into a quieter part of the building, and down the stairs to a parking garage before she would explain that statement.
"You'd better explain that comment, what do you mean you're going to outlive her??" Daphne demanded.
Evelynn nodded to Lt. Kinney, "Get in the vehicle and close the door, Leutnant, it's field-grade talk and not for shavetails."
he looked to Daphne, who nodded.
Evelynn led her to a pillar one and a half spaces from the staff-car.
"Elizabeth's dying." she said, "She's known about it for a long time, it's not treatable, not curable, and when she goes, they won't even be able to make her comfortable."
"that..that's...what??"
"Elizabeth has Cholmann's, it's why she's not going to Coventry Military Academy Prep this year, or any year. It's why she can't be drafted, and it's why her exemption doesn't violate the Emergency Act." Evelynn explained. "She's going to die in agony before she's forty, and when she goes, nobody will be able to do anything for the pain but administer a bullet. she's known since she was eleven."
Mosovich laid a hand on her shoulder, "Now, Kommandant, so do you, and maybe you can put two and two together and figure out why she doesn't want you around while she rides the downward spiral. the three of you were close, Pat read me her letters from the time in Rehab. She doesn't spend much time with me either-no more than is necessary for each of us to do our jobs, because she knows what that does."
"Does she?"
"She saw how it affected me-my dad had alzheimers, it was so far progressed he..the 'him' part was gone leaving a body behind that couldn't remember, couldn't learn..." Evelynn paused. "you don't want to be there for that, but you're here, now. I have broken confidences to make sure you understand what's going on with her. Don't make me regret it, Kommandant."
