Five Eyes [Kass/Des]

d e s a r a e .

*

Transmission had ceased at dawn and scrambled once again to a new frequency. At the helm of her living room cockpit – for it resembled more of a starship’s bridge than a space reserved for parties or casual meet-cutes – Desarae had pulled up a few holos to review. She waved away an image of two, of happy fascist boots clicking away across a barracks to place it with a man smiling across a porch in the fields of eleven. She paused to wipe up a series of notes, of clandestine meetings and communiques explaining peacekeeper presence before turning her attention to a series of sound files from thirteen.

She’d spent the evening of the finale away from the hustle and bustle of downtown. Not that anyone had thought her sends regrets were anything out of the ordinary. Des was known for a few things – straight candor, perfecting next generation artificial intelligence, and complete disinterest in any social gathering – which provided cover for the biggest social event of the season.

Instead, she’d opened a bottle of wine and spent a holo-call with her sister reminiscing memories of childhood, alongside chitterchatter about her sister’s daughters and the dreadful bastards (Rae’s words, not hers) who she worked for. A few glasses of wine later, she was humming along in the kitchen cooking up a pizza and popping a gummy into her mouth before settling in front of a holoscreen for the latest offerings from Saturn City. She’d fallen asleep at half past ten, well before any of the parties she’d been invited to had even begun.

Now, as the sun gleamed orange and the clocked ticked past eight, she’d centered on the file of Kassandra Nerys and the whole of eleven. A possible miscreant, someone the capitol had their eyes on if only because the elevens seemed less inclined to implode than most. Though she had her enemies, but then, she wouldn’t have been much of anything if she didn’t. Especially the likes of government officials and peacekeepers. They were only nervous when they sensed raw power they couldn’t control.

When the chimes started alerting Des that someone was crossing the footbridge to her home, she stood to wipe away the crumbs sprinkled across her jeans and wave away the holos she’d been reviewing. In another wave of her hands, she had the whole of her living room sprouting grain alongside a dirt road with her couch and coffee table crouched upon a hill in front of her.

She opened a communication channel and cleared her throat, “Entry granted, Kassandra Nerys.”

She'd dispatched a holo-request to the young mentor explaining she wished to meet, "Less as a fan, and more in terms of curiosity of what I've heard about you... I have a business venture for you." Passed along with the hope it'd been mistakenly as plain as other admirers requests. Nothing too unordinary.

Desarae had designed the post-post-modern home herself. Something of a cube of dark black metal with silvery windows, she believed it projected a certain confidence alongside carefully having been crafted to prevent any sort of possible easy surveillance. Not that she hadn’t attended to her own security systems beyond that.

“I wasn’t sure if you would come. Welcome. Take the hallway on the left and meet me through the field. Make yourself at home.”