NationStates Jolt Archive

Desedna, Neo Aequatius

The season's climate had afforded the island a more mild weather as Sean Kelly walked along the sidewalk as he approached one of the many coffee shops on the campus of Neo Aequatius Provincial University where he was ordered to meet with someone after the Republic Security Agency offices in the city had received a message which offered sensitive intelligence about a foreign power. As he walked, he turned slightly to catch a glimpse of the monitoring van which followed slowly and parked across the street of the shop. Somewhat nervous of his relative inexperience in field work for the agency, he swallowed the lump in his throat as he pushed open the door and took a seat within the shop and set up his laptop as a waitress took his order.

Stanislav Matija bore the look of a man pitted against a tempest. His skin hung ashen against the bones of his cheeks and his round, dark eyes sat sunken into his skull. He was an old man, and tired. The innumerable, bitter Generian winters he had seen made his bones ache, and his throat rasp when he spoke. He did not shuffle, nor limp, however, and he preserved a full stride worthy of his height, though deceptive of his character.

He had served for fourteen years at the Generian Imperial Intelligence Agency before the first incarnation of that organization had disintegrated during one of the many periods of Imperial civil war. Unlike so many others, he had survived the subsequent witch hunt at the time of the rise of the new and current Emperor Kazatmiru. He had fled abroad, and had never stopped moving, always feeling that somehow the hounds would find his trail and he would be robbed of the rest he knew he had earned.

But he was tired now, and he had grown old, and he worried that his flight would kill him sooner if his enemies were not swift. There were few solutions on the table, none of them pleasant, and so, being a man who had for his entire life learned and specialized in the arts of self-reservation, he chose the option that had the greatest potential for a positive conclusion to his life, though at the expense of his honor as a man and a Generian. Now, however, after he imagined he had been hunted for so long by a nation he had sacrificed himself time and time again for, he had thoroughly put to bed the Generian notion of manly honor and dedication, seeing how little good it had done him in the end.

Yes, he would go over to the foreign hordes, the leagues of the barbarians whom he and the Empire he had served had for so long stood steadfast against. He would seek their protection in exchange for the knowledge he carried in him. Today he would take that step from which no man could return. He would become a traitor, to save his own life.

But as he stepped into the university coffee shop and quickly identified the man he was supposed to meet, he felt neither guilt nor remorse.

Sean removed his sunglasses and set them down on the table as his ordered coffee arrived in a ceramic mug with the logo belonging to one of the school's many sports teams. He drank from the coffee as he kept his eyes out for his contact, knowing full well that each person within the cafe were being monitored by the crew inside the parked van. His eyes caught a glimpse of an older man who was approaching his table, though he did little more than await his arrival as he sat with his beverage.

By the time he sat down, Matija had sized up his contact. He was young, and a little nervous. Probably a newbie, cannon fodder in case the Generian turned out to be a psychopath. He trusted the men in the van across the street, perhaps too much. He was too inexperienced to have discovered how alone he was at this moment. But Matija was not trying to hide, and the nature of the meeting made him smile a little, and gave a genuine nature to his greeting in an accented version of the local tongue.

“Good morning.”

"Good morning," He replied, setting the mug down on the table and extending his hand towards the contact, "I am Sean Kelly with Republic Security Agency, your English is well-spoken, do you travel much?"

The question made Matija chuckle.

"A bit, yes," he replied with a smile. He looked around the room, but could not identify anyone who would be working with the man across from him. Yes, as he had suspected the man was alone, save for the team in the van across the street. Noting this, he leaned forward slightly.

"Shall we talk business, then?"

Kelly nodded as his tone became less casual, "Of course, what information could you possibly possess that you would need to contact us anonymously?" He took a drink from his coffee, keeping his eyes on the man opposite him.

The smile vanished from Matija’s face.

“Interesting information. Very interesting. You know the Generic Empire, yes? I worked for them once, some time ago. I worked in the intelligence branch, the same as you. However, I fell out of favor with them. I know too many things, and now they want to kill me.”

A half smile returned to his features.

“I can teach you a lot about the Empire. I can tell you things that you would never find out on your own. But I want a guarantee. I want asylum, here.”

Although what the man had presented to the rookie agent was unexpected, it was not as surprising, he set the ceramic mug down on the table, "I don't have the authority to do that, or to even convince my superiors to even take you seriously unless I can have something concrete to present to them."

Matija nodded. This was not unexpected.

"I imagined as much," he said. He reached into his coat pocket and produced a small white envelope. He placed it on the table. Inside was a flash drive with a recording of a conversation between an officer of the Generian Special Police Initiative (what amounted to the Empire's secret police) and a man by the name of Vladimir Leszek. The latter name would likely ring a few bells among any intelligence service with at least one ear to ground as that of a notorious human trafficker.

It was a short, vague discussion referencing an agreement between smuggler cartels and the Imperial police, but Matija suspected it would serve as a suitable hook, letting the Aequatian services know that he was serious.

"Present this to them, then. Perhaps then we can have a more fruitful discussion."

Matija got to his feet. He knew that round one was over.

"You will find a telephone number in that envelope, among other things. If your superiors decide to follow up on it, tell them to contact me. They will not be disappointed."

He took a step towards the door, but then halted and turned back towards the agent.

"Also, tell them to send someone with a little more hair on their balls next time."

With that, he walked out of the shop and disappeared into the crowds.