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Adjutant Akande had a poker face that none could rival, but there was a satisfied smirk on her face as she watched Captain Hawthorne step into her office. Sophia mused internally if the rush of pride she felt was similar to when a prize athlete took home a trophy. It made her feel a little indulgent.
“Captain Hawthorne. We finally meet in person.”
“Adjutant.” Hawthorne sat down awkwardly in the offered chair, looking a bit like a wayward student waiting to be disciplined. Sophia let the Captain shift uneasily in her chair for a moment longer, before getting right to the point.
“Were you working with Felix Millstone as your accomplice last night?”
The Captain blinked, frowning lightly in confusion. “Pardon?”
Sophia didn’t like to repeat herself, but she was willing to exercise some patience in order to establish a rapport with the Captain. “Were you and Felix Millstone working together last night? In the assassination attempt on Chairman Rockwell?”
“Why would you think I was working with Felix, if I’m the one who stopped him from hurting Rockwell?”
Sophia answered matter-of-factly, as if she were listing out the ingredients to a recipe. “You would need an accomplice if you were trying to stage a false flag attack. The news cycle is already generating priceless headlines in your favor: ‘Captain Hawthorne saves Chairman Rockwell’s life in full view of Byzantium’. A party is a perfect stage for an audience. That’s an amount of leverage and goodwill that is very difficult to buy.”
Hawthorne’s mouth fell open. She looked disbelievingly at Sophia until she realized she was gaping and snapped her mouth shut. “That – that is twisted.”
“It’s effective,” Sophia smoothly countered, but then conceded the point. “But I get the impression that you don’t have the creativity necessary for that kind of duplicity.”
“I don’t know whether to feel insulted or relieved that you believe me.”
Sophia shrugged, tapping a command into her terminal, considering the subject concluded for the moment. “Feel however you wish, Captain. A one-time bonus will be transferred to your account to recognize your exemplary actions on duty. Because you are not a fulltime employee nor currently have an open contract with the Halcyon Holdings Corporation, this sum is subject to taxation.”
With a few more taps and a quick scan with calculating eyes, and Sophia nodded towards Hawthorne. “The transfer has been sent. You will find a confirmation number and tax receipt in your inbox.”
Hawthorne’s eyebrows rose slowly, but then she placed her hands on the armrests of the chair and pushed herself up. “Thank you? I’ll take my leave then, Adjutant.”
“Not so fast, Hawthorne.” Sophia steepled her fingers together, resting her hands on top of her desk. “I’d like to schedule your recording session with the Chairman. Maverick Johnston has agreed to direct it, so it will be at Odeon Pictures. You should feel at ease being on familiar ground.”
The Captain remained standing, frowning as she looked down at Sophia. “Is that so? I don’t recall agreeing to do anymore acting. I have my ship to get back to.”
“The Chairman was just attacked. We need to broadcast an announcement showing that not only is he in good health, but that it has not weakened his position at all. And everyone is clamoring to see the brave, heroic Captain who saved his life.” The smile on Sophia’s face was serene, but she saw that it only made Hawthorne’s scowl deepen.
“I’m not your puppet. Adjutant.”
“You aren’t,” Sophia agreed with a dryly amused sound, “a puppet couldn’t be so stubborn. But you have a choice, and my records show me that you have a lot of experience in making difficult choices. Stand by the Chairman’s side and participate in the campaign, or let us control the messaging of how an old associate of yours was the assassin and have no input on how you are implicated alongside with him.”
A look crossed Hawthorne’s face that Sophia recognized. It was a mixture of hatred and the slow realization that there was no fighting back. Resentment and defeat was a cocktail the Adjutant was used to inspiring in the people who tried to get in her way. She watched as the Captain wavered and waited, anticipating that it would take a few more internal back-and-forth’s before Hawthorne relinquished to the writing on the wall.
But then Hawthorne looked up at her with a defiant set to her chin. “You’ll do whatever it is you do, and there’s nothing I can do to stop you. I’ll let you get to it.”
One of Sophia’s eyebrows lifted, intrigued and annoyed all at once. “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘to cut off the nose to spite the face’?”
Hawthorne rolled her eyes, heaving a sigh. “I came so close to respecting you too, Adjutant. Everyone in this Law forsaken city talks in fucking riddles. You seemed like the first person to give it to me straight, even if I don’t care for what you’re selling.”
Sophia held back a chuckle. A mercenary like Captain Hawthorne must have found the social games and maneuvering of the Chairman’s party singularly frustrating. Every agent who made their living by their weapons seemed to possess that same straight-forwardness that was a handicap in Byzantium. Even if Hawthorne was a diamond in the rough, her edges were still rough.
“Doesn’t Bishop DeSoto ‘give it to you straight’? I thought he would have been the one person here who could act as your confidant.”
“Naw,” Hawthorne shrugged, looking uneasy, “he bullshits himself too much to be a reliable opinion.”
Sophia’s eyes narrowed as she dissected the Captain in front of her. She had received extensive training in behavioral profiling and reading micro-expressions. It was a requirement for senior-level Human Resources managers, and she had voluntary participated in their courses because it was also damn useful.
Hawthorne’s eyes were cast downwards and to the side. Her arms were crossed against her chest. A subtle grimace played around the corners of her mouth. Disappointment, defensiveness and pain. The Bishop had hurt her in some way and she was feeling regretful. People were not hurt, nor did they regret things they did not care about.
Got you, Captain.
“May I ask you a question, Captain?”
She considered Sophia for a moment, suspicious. “Shoot.”
“I’ve always been curious why you are so resistant to the Board, when ultimately you did surrender Phineas Welles and the Hope into our custody.”
Finally, Hawthorne sat back down. She slung a leg across her lap, her boot swaying to and fro to the tune of her thoughts. A finger pressed against her temple, Hawthorne leveled a guarded look at Sophia, and murmured, “Funny, I ask myself something similar. Why did I do it? What good came of it?”
“Sounds like a question meant for your therapist. Or priest.”
Hawthorne smirked, before her expression grew contemplative. “Truthfully? I’d been in cryosleep for seventy years. I didn’t know what I was doing. I don’t like the Board, there is a lot you do I don’t agree with. A lot that is cruel and greedy and inhuman… but I saw people get hurt when I thought I knew best, and tried to change their world.”
Sophia nodded, the realization dawning on her, and tapped a finger against her lips. “Edgewater.”
“Edgewater,” Hawthorne said in agreement. “I diverted the power to Adelaide’s compound because I liked her and I thought people should live the way her followers do. Free. But it wasn’t Reed Tobson who paid the price for my choice, was it? It was the colonists. The workers. Innocent folk just trying to get by…”
Hawthorne trailed off, a somewhat haunted look in her eye. Sophia gave her a moment to collect herself. The untrained were so reckless with themselves. Give a person the slightest opportunity, and they all happily spilled their fears, their regrets, and their secrets. Sophia wasn’t frigid though, she felt touched by the woman sitting in front of her, who had shouldered more lives and responsibility than most people in the Halcyon colony. It was one thing they had in common.
“You had to pick the lesser of two evils. Your choice had consequences, and you aren’t the only person who has to live with them. Take it as a lesson learned, Captain. It helped you pick the right ‘lesser evil’ when it mattered.”
Hawthorne snorted, but couldn’t argue back.
“You don’t have to like the Board, but we can co-exist.” Sophia’s voice took on a warning tone when she added, “It would help if you stopped taking contracts for MSI.”
Hawthorne merely shrugged her shoulders with a smug smile. “Competition is healthy. Ain’t that in some textbook about business growth?”
Sophia pursed her lips, annoyed because it was, and she would bet hard bits that Hawthorne had never so much as picked up the textbook in question. This wasn’t a battle she needed to fight just yet, however, and one of Sophia’s talents was in managing priorities. “As you say. One last thing before I let you go, Captain. Would you mind delivering this to Captain Tennyson the next time you dock at Groundbreaker?”
Sophia flipped open a folder, taking out an envelope and passed it to Hawthorne. The Captain took it and cast a suspicious glance over it. Sophia said, “You can look inside.”
The Captain opened it without hesitation, pulling out a requisition form that she quickly scanned. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in its contents. “This… the Groundbreaker would be able to run indefinitely with this. Law, Junlei will have a fit.”
The requisition form was confirmation that a new coolant system for Groundbreaker’s radiator would be delivered to the station, courtesy of the Board. It was several models more advanced than what the station was currently running, and would extend the system’s life by fifty years, easily, if not a century.
Hawthorne’s eyes sharpened and she pointed the form at Sophia accusingly. “What’s the catch? What’s the cost to this?”
“There is no cost. It is a gesture of goodwill from the Board, for the continued relationship we have with Groundbreaker station.”
But Hawthorne wasn’t buying it, and was growing heated. “Remember, I don’t like being fed bullshit?”
Sophia gave her a long, appraising look, coldblooded where Hawthorne was hotheaded. So far, the Captain had impressed her in all of the right ways. Smarter than she looked, but tactless. Sophia liked that. Captain Hawthorne lacking any political savvy was a boon to her, so it did not hurt to be a little blunt in return. “The cost is you. Deliver our gift to Captain Tennyson personally. That’s the price.”
Hawthorne sat back, finger tapping against the envelope as she took in Sophia’s words. A sick look crowded her face as she caught on. “Because Junlei trusts me, is that it? I give this… this life-saving gift to her, and she’ll accept it because I brought it. I’m vetting the Board to her.”
“That’s right.”
Hawthorne shoved the form back inside the envelope and made to toss it back onto the desk. “Fuck you—“
“Felix Millstone’s sentencing is this week.”
Hawthorne paled, frozen on the spot. “What’s that have to do with anything?”
Sophia smiled lightly, easing back into her chair, her tone remaining infuriatingly reasonable. “Why, that’s your price. Deliver our gift to Groundbreaker. Endorse the Board to Tennyson. Be our ambassador to her… and Mr. Millstone will be shown leniency.”
It almost disappointed Sophia to see Hawthorne’s brave face crumble. The Captain looked almost grey with disgust and fear. She ‘tsked’ in disapproval. “You wanted me to be direct, Captain.”
Hawthorne looked like she was locked in some epic struggle with herself as she grit out through clenched teeth, “You’ll let him go?”
“Oh no,” Sophia laughed airily, “but we may delay his execution, and continue to delay it to our discretion. You know how things can get lost in the shuffle or stuck in a bureaucratic limbo. Mr. Millstone may be able to live out his natural lifespan waiting on a form. It depends on you.”
The Captain rocked back, holding the envelope in trembling hands, her eyes somewhere far away. Sophia waited, she expected a free spirit like Hawthorne would take time adjusting to bearing a yoke. And this was only the first step. There were bound to be corrections and reinforcements along the way.
Hawthorne’s eyes snapped up and bore into Sophia’s, like two bottomless tunnels, dark and roiling with a black hatred that made her hair stand on end. For a brief second, Sophia felt a flash of genuine fear, like her life was in Hawthorne’s hand.
But then Hawthorne blinked and shoved all of that down, somewhere deep into herself. She still had an intense look in her eye, but it was the determination to get a job done. “Understood. Adjutant.”
Captain Hawthorne pushed off from the chair and made her exit, marching out of the office with heavy steps. Sophia suppressed a shiver, keeping her composed mask firmly in place, even though she was completely alone. It had been a very long time since she had felt afraid, truly afraid, and it reminded her that power had numbed her.
The Adjutant smiled and privately thought that despite herself, it made her like the Captain even more.
***
“Punctual as ever, Bishop. Top marks.”
Bishop DeSoto seated himself across from the Adjutant’s desk. He said cautiously, “You seem to be in a good mood.”
“I am. And you have a new assignment.” Sophia passed a file across her desk to him.
From the various designation stamps, the Bishop did not need to open it to know that this meant he was being assigned a new client for spiritual counseling. Sophia saw the line of his mouth grow rigid as he bit back whatever scathing comment came to his mind. The Bishop of the OSI had a different set of responsibilities and duties than a regular priest. Only the most highly placed members of society had the privilege of seeing the Bishop as their spiritual counselor. DeSoto hated it, of course, considering the work beneath him.
“Did someone get a promotion? No wait, let me guess – some investor’s trying to ingratiate their heir into the upper circles by buying their way in. How hefty was the bribe?”
Sophia waited patiently for the Bishop to finally open the file, letting him vent. It was worth it to see the invective die on his lips as he saw the name written down.
To his credit, he then closed up the folder and resumed the conversation with a neutral expression. His recovery wasn’t perfect, but there was no use pretending like his composure hadn’t been shaken, when Sophia knew everything already. “I didn’t realize Captain Hawthorne was taking up residence in Byzantium.”
“She probably won’t full-time, but an apartment suite is already being readied for her. The Board expects her to continue her work and for travel to be a large part of that. But when she is here, she will require debriefing.”
Sophia cast a shrewd eye on him, her tone teasing and warning all at once. “I’ll admit, my confidence was a little shaken in you, DeSoto. You were being a bit ham-fisted trying to manage Hawthorne at the Chairman’s party. But lo and behold… you delivered beyond expectations.”
He pursed his lips, her passive-aggressive compliment nettling at his ego, but it seemed he had learned from their last encounter and moved past it. “Even though it seems like the perfect set-up, I genuinely believe she wasn’t working with Felix that night.”
Sophia nodded, “I agree. She’s chafing at the collar too much for this to have been planned. Too forthright for her own good, your Captain.”
The Bishop’s fingers ran lightly over the folder, tracing spirals and invisible patterns as a background to his thoughts. He kept his tone light, but Sophia could hear the loaded question underneath, when he asked, “Are these to be standard spiritual counseling sessions?”
“Oh no, I need you to exceed expectations again, DeSoto.” He looked wary and on guard, but Sophia continued with a menacingly pleasant smile. “Personally, I think you fluked your way into the outcome of Rockwell’s party, but I don’t begrudge results. Hawthorne’s a celebrated hero of the Board right now, whether she wants to be or not. And she doesn’t want to be. So, counsel her. Guide her. Take her confessions.”
The Bishop’s chest stilled for a moment with a held-in breath, before it resumed its normal rise and fall. Sophia understood why this made him nervous. Confession was a level of monitoring beyond counseling. It was a method that had proven very effective in exposing pressure points in a person’s psychological profile. It was truffle hunting for whatever secrets could bring a person to their knees. It was invasive, and previous practitioners had made the claims that it forever changed both parties involved.
But you did not land prize game by using inferior bait in the traps. “And report it all back to me. You’ve brought her to heel, now you must keep her there.”
There was a stormy look in his eyes, as he collected the file and rose to his feet. She got the sense that a tempest was brewing within him, and it was a mixture of feelings she did not quite understand, but appreciated the power of. But fear and ambition had held him in place up until this point, and she trusted in its continued rule over him.
He murmured, “As you will, Adjutant,” before sweeping out of her office with a slight bow to his head.
Adjutant Akande felt satisfied. She had put certain assets into motion, and she only needed to wait to see if her investment showed the right return. She had sent her bishop marching across the chessboard, tiles and pawns to be swallowed up in his path, and she felt confident that the game was being set up in her favor.
She did not play games to lose.