While mega-corporations vie for control of Andromeda's precious resources, the very anti-corporate Yseult, surreptitiously recruited into the heavily militarised MANTIS soon finds that the drawbacks of corporate life may be a small price next to the...
Yseult and Riddaeon walked down the expansive row of shipping containers in the corner of the yard. The air was filled with the heavy industrial sounds of a busy freight port. Cranes, walkers, ships and voices all working through the night to keep the cargo moving. Freight... No wonder Yseult looked so at home; this was her world. Eventually, in what appeared to be a small clearing between the stacks was a lone grey container wit 'IFA' painted on the side; the acronym for the Independent Freight Association - a Galaxy-wide union for tramp freight operators that acted as a focal point for customs and contract negotiations with the various governments and corporations of Andromeda. Their influence had diminished somewhat in the past year as the 'big three' had favoured discounts offered by larger shipping lines or recruited small operators into their own fleet but in some form or other, the IFA was still here.
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It had taken a string of calls and deals to get here and Yseult had refused to tell Riddaeon who it was she was trying to arrange a meeting with. They were supposed to be acquiring a ship... This didn't look like a starship sales office. Riddaeon knew there were all kinds of small underworld operations going on in the Galaxy but didn't think Yseult would have been so involved or why they would be going here for a ship when they could requisition one from the MANTIS fleetyard. Yseult rapped on the container door, the sound reverberating through the metal, then she stood, arms folded and leaned against the door frame. She looked Riddaeon over. "Just remember." She informed him. "Let me do the talking.". Riddaeon might have objected to the demotion but the clunk of the locking mechanism on the door releasing prevented him, Yseult grabbing the lever and pulling the container door open and stepping in.
The container was dim; pale blue lights along the floor and ceiling edges gave the interior an almost misty hue. Directly in front of Yseult was a low table with two chairs positioned opposite each other and stood next to the far chair, a man, stood poised with one arm behind his back.
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"Yseult Brenneaux!" The man asked in a voice thick with memory and nostalgia.
"Brenneux." She corrected him. The man's face turned quizzical. "Are you sure?" He asked. Yseult ignored the question and proceeded to seat herself in the nearest chair. The man looked at Riddaeon, his eyes fixing on the agent. "And who would your MANTIS co-hort be?" He asked, his tone changing to one of near disgust. Riddaeon was taken aback. He'd worn civilian clothing to keep his allegiance discreet but the man still knew.
