PART 1 - 15-14-5
Another long day of political talks. Another drinks reception.
There was no shortage of guests wanting to be in her company.
The Chief Representative of Orb had emerged from the aftermath of the Foundation Attack golden and strong.
Even if her peers didn't agree with her philosophies or goals, they all now listened to what she had to say.
She felt the enormous weight of it.
Stifling a tired sigh, Cagalli glanced to her side. She had only arrived the day before and was still acclimatizing to space.
The venue was a vast minimalist structure perched high on the exclusive, protected hills of Aprilius-One. With soaring windows for walls, it was as though there was nothing separating inside from out. It was a one-way looking glass though, completely opaque from the exterior, ensuring the privacy of the VIP guests.
The evening lights of Aprilius-One, the city stretching out below, started to twinkle on. Cagalli meditatively admired the way day turned to night in the colony, the mirrored sky mimicking the colours of dusk, orange, purple, pink...
As it darkened, her reflection started to become visible in the glass. She briefly saw standing beside her an apparition of a smiling face, rose-coloured hair, a light bell-like voice - her mind conjuring memories of the not-so-distant past.
But the image flashed away as quickly as it appeared. Cagalli took comfort knowing Kira and Lacus were far away from here, and that place somewhere nearby they had briefly, reluctantly, called home.
"The situation in the PLANT is still volatile, as I'm sure you understand,". Cagalli forced her attention back to the person who actually stood next to her. Cassius Hald, she reminded herself. The Supreme Council representative from Quintilius – in his early 30s, a pharmaceutical chemist, then executive, before enlisting in ZAFT during the wars and being appointed to the Council. Smooth.
Despite Chairman Lament's calm and thorough resolve, the political situation in the PLANT was tenuous following the coup d'etat during the Foundation Attack. ZAFT intelligence was arduously working through the aftermath, including identifying and bringing to justice Jagannath's collaborators.
It was still shocking how easily it had occurred, even with the manipulative aid of the Accords.
(Athrun held a counter-view. The underlying central ethos of the PLANT was survival. Even in peacetime, the coordinators of the PLANT still faced the existential threat of their own genetics - which meant there would always be those susceptible to the gilded promise of a better, safer future.
He had explained this to her emotionlessly not long after the Foundation attack, and it had thrown her, to hear him be so analytical about his homeland. Her heart ached even now, thinking about it).
"I do," Cagalli said. She was intimately familiar with having to pick up the pieces of a nation betrayed by the self-interest of its most trusted.
Councilman Hald continued, perhaps not hearing the grave timbre of Cagalli's voice in those two words. "Chairman Lament is a noble man at heart, but there are divided views among the people about how best to move on. It is not something that can go unpunished, but you also can't ignore there are those who sympathise with the rebellion's participants,". He then hastened to add. "But that's my personal opinion, of course,".
Cagalli simply nodded, holding back what she thought in response. She took quiet note of the way Hald's fingers clenched hard at the stem of his champagne flute.
Cagalli let her eyes drift across the room – Chairman Lament, the other board members of COMPS and their coteries, Supreme Council members and high-ranking ZAFT officials everywhere. Her own security detail with their backs against the interior wall, never more than a few feet away.
Perhaps thinking she was looking at the food buffet also along the interior wall, Hald commented. "The Chairman has gone out of his way with the catering tonight. The khinkali and dolma are as close you will get to the real thing".
"You're familiar with the cuisine of southern Eurasia?" Cagalli asked lightly.
Hald stammered for a moment, as thought he'd given away something he shouldn't have. "A little, during the Second War," he said eventually. "I served at the Diocuia Base,".
At that moment, Chairman Lament came over to join them. "Chief Representative, Councilman Hald. The talks today went well," he commented, attention directed at Cagalli.
She smiled warmly. "Yes, very promising,". And she meant it. With Haumea's blessing, a dash of good luck, and a few more details to be ironed out over the coming days, the re-establishment of COMPS was imminent.
"Thank you again for making the time to attend tonight. Your presence gives weight to the event," Lament said sincerely.
The Chief Representative of Orb might have been one of the most important people in the room, but this drinks reception was not for her. She was a mere guest.
No, this reception was for Her – the teenager seated quietly on a high stool in the centre of the room, accompanied by her grandmother. Eurasian nobility – exiled from the Foundation, born and raised in the north, educated in the Atlantic Federation. Parents lost in the destruction of Moscow.
Here as a peace envoy as part of the Eurasian delegation invited to observe the negotiations to resume COMPS. With Eurasia still deeply divided and shell-shocked after all that had happened, it was a generous move from Lament to warmly welcome this girl, who represented various aspects of Eurasia's troubled history, to the PLANT. It was a considered, symbolic gesture.
For both Eurasia, and the PLANT.
(That was something else Athrun had explained to her, this time with an edge in his voice – in the absence of faith in anything but technology, the people of the PLANT clung to other kinds of idols to worship).
She looked back discreetly over her shoulder, and found who she was looking for on the other side of the vast room.
Amber eyes met jade. A wordless, knowing exchange.
Okay, let's do this, Cagalli thought.
XXX
Earlier...
"Still nothing from Terminal's networks,".
"What about Commander Waltfeld? Anything from him?".
"Not yet,".
Athrun leaned back in his chair in the Cavalier control station and closed his eyes. His face might have looked calm, but his mind was whirring trying to work out another plan, another angle, another way forward. A strip of white paper was scrunched in his hand.
Meyrin tapped her pen against her tablet, then resumed considering the streams of data flowing in on her monitors.
They had got this far…but they were running out of time. For one, there was only so much longer ZAFT Intelligence could give them cover in the docking bay of Aprilius-Two – not with the events scheduled over the next few days.
Events they had played a covert role in shaping, still on mission with Terminal, working hard to support Cagalli as she navigated this precarious next phase of inter-global relations.
The threats they had to counter were becoming more complex, multi-faceted – as new actors beyond Blue Cosmos took advantage of the chaos caused by the Foundation Attack. This included multi-national criminal enterprises selling arms or information to the highest or most desperate bidder, playing out something of a shadow war with Terminal as purveyors of intelligence.
One particularly dangerous enterprise had come into possession of something which had the potential to lead them to one of the Foundation's most prized secrets.
Fortunately, thanks to the careful work of Terminal agents planted within the ranks of the criminal enterprise, Athrun and Meyrin were in possession of the same intel.
Athrun opened one eye and peered up at the monitors above his chair, playing different news channels from across the Earth and PLANTS.
His stomach lurched again at how disastrous it would be to the fragile peace process Cagalli was working so hard to get back on track if that data got into any one of many wrong pairs of hands.
Breathing out, he took stock of the situation. So, they had the same information.
The hardware for the data was stored in an independent storage facility near the Aprilius Colonies in Lagrange 5, owned by an infamously non-aligned financial institution which offered privacy and discretion for its clients. Within the facility were close to a million lockers, storing the wealth and goods of individuals from not only the PLANT, but also nations on earth and the free state of the Moon.
Even in the PLANT - where your genetic data was considered property of the nation, but physical space was at a premium - many opted to keep their family belongings and legacies stored here and out of reach, in theory, of the PLANT bureaucrats.
The criminals were trying to hack the top-tier security of the facility– but so was Meyrin, vying with them, dropping red herrings, while using the Cavalier's cutting-edge technology to stay unseen in the network. It was an electronic warfare version of cat and mouse. He glanced over at Meyrin as she said 'aha' and quickly typed some code into the EW suite.
ZAFT intelligence - having obtained the necessary legal permissions - were working through the storage facility the manual way, but it could take weeks before they found this needle in a haystack, and that was going to be too late.
Athrun considered the words scribbled down on the piece of paper in his hand again, and scowled.
At first glance it was nothing but nonsense – the garbled games of a damaged and deranged mind.
But paired together with the secondary intelligence they had obtained…the words took on shape, meaning.
Again, the trouble was, they weren't the only ones holding this information.
"There's no way around it. We need someone with first-hand knowledge," he finally concluded aloud.
Meyrin cringed. "How are we going to be able to get that? Are there any Terminal contacts with links to the family?".
Athrun's eyes drifted upwards to the monitors again. Each of the different channels had started to display the same breaking news story.
The Chief Representative of Orb had arrived in the PLANT, ahead of talks to re-establish COMPS. She walked out into a courtyard with the cameras of the universe upon her, ready to be whisked away in an armoured car to her accommodation.
She looked well, despite the long trip…bright, cheerful and smiling. She held herself strongly and professionally, as the occasion demanded, but still came across as approachable. Miriallia would no doubt be pleased with the optics.
It was important for people to see someone looking positive, even in these grim times, he reflected.
Even in the artificial sun, her hair was golden, and her eyes – though a little fatigued – stared straight into the cameras with barely concealed determination. She was here to do a job she was going to see through fully this time.
(He thought of those same amber eyes looking up at him, sparkling, teasing; the same golden hair brushing the side of his face; the soft warmth of that same strong body...)
"….hey!" Meyrin tapped the back of his head with her tablet.
He looked at her ruefully, rubbing his hair. "I've got an idea,".