Monthly Short Story for July: The Waterfront (Patreon)

Hello Commissioned Pioneers! :D As promised as always, in accordance with the results of last month's poll, I present to you the Bonus Story of the Month! There were a total of four choices again, with a majority voting for Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School Side Story 7.

This time, we jump back to Earth, during Emma's time for once! Just a day after she stepped through the portal to be more specific, as we finally catch up to a character we haven't seen since Chapter 2! The Director of the IAS makes an appearance again, as she discusses certain matters she wishes to pursue as a direct result of the IAS' progress. These plans however, all rely on Pilot II's success, which of course means that a lot is riding on Emma's actions back over in the Nexus! :D I really wanted to take the opportunity here to expand upon the situation back on Earth as Emma continues her mission over in the Nexus. I'm somewhat nervous about this chapter, because I wanted to explore more of the internal machinations and political back and forths over on Earth, to sort of show a glimpse of the world as well as how it compares to how things work over in the Nexus! This is my first real dive into something like this for WPA, so I really hope you guys like it! :D 

Let's jump right to it then! I'd like to proudly present, Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School's seventh side story! :D

The Waterfront

Earth - United Nations Special Administrative Zone 12L - The Waterfront Hotel

21/12/3047

15:05

Jazz, the quintessential music-of-choice for any burgeoning, self-respecting, four going-on-five star establishments. What separated the former from the latter however were live performances. So when an establishment had several uninterrupted performances scheduled throughout the day, leaving not a single second of dead air between each shift, it was a sign that the place in question wasn’t just trying to be more than it was. It was a sign that the place very much was the embodiment of the very standard others strived to reach.

The dulcet plucking of the bass, melodic keystrokes of the piano, and brassy warble of the saxophone resonated across and throughout the expansive public spaces. The gentle and inviting harmony bathed the vintage lobbies of grand oak and granite, through to the recently renovated lakeside docks of birch and plastalite. Connected to the docks was the hotel’s namesake, the Lakeside View Restaurant, a visually distinct yet structurally integral part of the primary tower’s main lobby; acting as a bridge between the tower and the docks.

In keeping with the hotel’s namesake, it wasn’t just the restaurant and lobby that had unparalleled views of the lake. In fact, you would be hard pressed to find any public vantage point that did not overlook the calm and pristine waters. Waters which were only occasionally disturbed by the great number of recreational craft it hosted along its docks, populated by hobbyists and enthusiasts alike.

But unlike the lake and its recreational ambiance, or the hotel and its decidedly tastefully mid-millenium heritage aesthetics, the patrons that dotted its many lobbies and venues looked entirely out of place in their crisp uniformed attire. It would’ve been statistically more likely to bump into an officer of any of the seven branches, or an administrator clad in as many shades of blue that existed to subtly distinguish each of the UN’s sprawling civil service complexes from one another.

What non-uniformed civilians that existed either consisted of the hotel staff themselves, or one of the many academics whose only distinguishing features included their badge of tenure and academic pins.

Indeed, the Waterfront had always been what the Assembly’s representatives called The Mil-Civ Hub, for ever since the height of the second intrasolar war, it had been the unspoken meeting ground for these two, deeply interconnected arms of government to mingle in peace. It was only natural, almost inevitable, that the Waterfront was chosen for this role. Being close to several military airfields and spaceports, connected via gov-rail due to the close proximity to the now-defunct continuity-of-government failsafes, and reasonably far away from any major civilian rail and road networks, the Waterfront had always been in the perfect position to reap the benefits of this unique isolation.

This was to say nothing of a decidedly crucial detail: the fact that the space was the sole private hospitality venue within what would become one of the single densest UN Special Administrative Zones. Its fate as a cultural institution in its own right, was sealed the moment those borders were drawn. For if the walls of aging oak, worn-down granite, and refurbished concrete could speak… they would recount many a sleepless night of tired discussions between decorated heroes, cherished leaders, and respected academics. From discussions that directly led to the crystallization of the warp drive, reportedly haphazardly strewn onto an entire stack of napkins due to an untimely power outage, to the drafting of legislation which solidified the status quo of the Solar Peace; the walls of the Waterfront are some of the most storied in modern human history.

Many would argue that it was within these halls that the framework and identity of a united spacefaring humanity was birthed.

And perhaps one day, historians would look back on these halls to proclaim that it was also here that humanity’s first interdimensional initiatives likewise came into being.

Though a claim that bold would require as much, if not more work, than any that came before it.

Work that the Waterfront would gladly play host to, as it would do today.

For in a small booth within the Waterfront Restaurant sat two players of a game far larger than either could have ever imagined.

One, a flag officer of the fabled and storied Long Range Expeditionary Forces.

The other, a Director of a freshly established administration under the United Nations Science Advisory, one poised to revolutionize humanity.

“I take it you had no trouble getting here?” The LREF officer directed a casual greeting towards his conversation partner, his auburn hair and fair skin complemented the blue and gold dress-uniform that was the envy of the other branches.

“I really should’ve been the one asking you that, Field Captain McCay.” The Director spoke with a hurried politeness, quickly shuffling off her coat to the side, placing it on one of the many coat hangers that flanked the entrance to this private booth; one of the many booths that sacrificed scenic viewing angles of the lake for the sake of privacy. “I really have no right arriving here later than you, given the disparity in the distances between both of our offices.” She quickly added, promptly making her way to one of the booth’s seats, making a point of choosing the wooden chair instead of the upholstered bench.

“Oh please.” The man replied almost instantly. “You know how it goes. It’s erm… what do you call it again? The Leering Phenomenon? It’s one of those strange unintuitive things you have to take a sec to wrap your head around. Something about how the majority of time spent getting to a destination is concentrated in the last 20 percent of the journey, accounting for only 10 percent of the distance needed to travel. Whereas barely a quarter of the time spent getting there is spent on the longest legs of travel. That’s at least how it goes when you’re doing short hops between two primary destinations. It makes sense when you consider that despite me needing to bridge the gap between Earthring and Earth, that the space elevator takes what… an hour? Two hours max? By comparison, actually getting here from the closest space-el terminal took a good four hours.” The man let out a polite chuckle at the end of that, before taking a brief moment to shift his gaze towards one of the two empty seats. “I see that our brave intrepid explorer’s missing today. I’m assuming either training has her completely preoccupied, or perhaps…” McCay trailed off, taking the time to begin sipping his coffee, as Weir completed his unspoken question for him.

“The mission has started.” Weir replied with a small huff. “So we’re unfortunately going to be missing the company of our young pioneer for about a year.”

“Ah, a shame that is. And when are we expecting the first burst to come through?” The man shot back, his bold eyes only once deviating from that piercing eye contact for the sake of adding several spoonfuls of sugar into an already milky coffee.

“Four to five weeks. Though four weeks is when we start to assume either critical equipment failure, or worse.”

“That long huh?”

“Your boys helped to spearhead the conversion process.” The Director prefaced with a cock of her head. “I assumed you were already aware of the inherent limitations imposed by the novel substrates we were working with. The burst interval rates (BIR) of the Exoreality Communications Suite suffered tremendously as a result of this hard-limiter.”

“I was made aware of the broad strokes, yes. But the rest of it? Well, that’s the technical department’s prerogative. Administration rarely goes into the nitty gritty spec-sheets, especially when we are pressed for time as is.” He paused, taking another sip of that coffee before continuing. “Besides, given how messily your administration has handled the interdepartmental and cross-disciplinary legalese, bilateral dialogue has become a mess and a half for my department to handle.”

“You know as well as I do that we’re working with what we have, Field Captain. The army’s exclusive security oversight authority was baked into our founding charter from the onset of the founding of our institute. That alone is what’s preventing us from outright opening new channels of bilateral dialogue.”

“The UNSA really tied your hands there huh?”

“They did, but we didn’t have much of a choice back then.” The Director expressed with a clear hint of frustration, reaching for a small tablet as she broke eye contact if only for the briefest of moments.

“I get it.” McCay replied, not leaving a second of dead air to dampen the pace of the back and forth. “All of us at the LREF get it. More than that, we empathize with you on an institutional level. I hope you don’t get offended by this but, we’ve always seen you guys as the poor man’s LREF.”

This was enough to elicit a response from the Director, who narrowed her eyes in response. “I promise to not get offended if you elaborate on that, Field Captain.” Weir responded reluctantly, raising a brow as she flagged down a member of the wait staff, miming out a few silent words along the lines of the usual, before turning her full attention back on the Field Captain.

“You know our origins, heck, everyone knows our story by now. Founded by a fringe hope for extrasolar exploration when the first barely viable warp drives were created, built on the genuinely bizarre concerns for the potential of extraterrestrial incursions, and pioneering experimental tech that burned through upwards of a small state’s yearly budget every other week. It was the sheer hype of the potential for faster than light travel that caught the public imagination and allowed for funding to be poured year after year despite our setbacks. And even then, we still had every possible civilian organization and NGO alike breathing down our necks. From civil service to the independent committees created solely to keep us on a short leash by the assembly, we were always this close to being completely upended. And that was with public perception at a constant all time high, fueled by centuries of claustrophobia and a desire to finally reach the final frontier.” The man paused, reaching for another sip of his coffee, but deciding against it. “You guys? You guys are trying to do the same thing, except without the public support, without the centuries of collective cultural fascination with a perceived final frontier. You guys are doing all of this, with what was in effect unproven fringe tech. It’s amazing how you even managed to convince the UN Science Advisory to establish anything at all, let alone secure a budget for this.”

The Director took a few moments to consider that, the seeds of a thought taking root, as evidenced by her intense gaze. “It was nothing short of a miracle, McCay. To be quite frank with you, we only managed to break through with a single committee vote. A single vote, which more or less molded our founding charter to become as myopic as it is today. A single vote which makes us incredibly vulnerable to a restructuring or a reshuffling of our organization, should we fail to meet our charter’s establishing criterion of progress. Which is why despite the time between Pilot I and Pilot II, we haven't yet been able to renegotiate any of the terms within our founding charter.” Weir’s response was halted by the arrival of several additional drinks, and what most traditionalists would call an afternoon tea set; what amounted to a small tower of sweet and savory snacks stacked atop one another on glass platters. “Which is why we need to talk about alternatives.” The Director continued, taking a moment to sip her coffee, black, and without any additives. “If you're still willing to hear my proposals that is.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t prepared to hear you out, Director.” The Field Captain shrugged, letting out an incredulous huff, as he reached for one of the mini-sliders on the middle row of the stack of finger-foods.

“We can’t keep going on like this. We can’t just stop to draft an entirely new, highly specific, intensely narrow project proposal every single time we need to cooperate. All for the sake of circumventing the army’s exclusive security oversight authority.”

This seemed to garner the man’s attention, as he held back from reaching for another savory snack.

“I mean, administratively speaking, it is a pain to deal with. However, I personally don’t see it being too much of a pain that it would warrant rocking the boat, potentially incurring the wrath of the higher ups, or worse, the assembly. Considering our cooperation is almost entirely based on the exchange of equipment, personnel, and expertise, I think what we have right now is plenty fine, Weir. No one under my command, or overseeing my command for that matter, has any issues with our current arrangements. That is, if you intend on utilizing our resources as it currently stands.” The man ended his response with a small sip of his recently-arrived sparkling water, before quickly adding what amounted to an afterthought. “Unless, of course, you intend on utilizing the LREF as a cooperative security body.”

That statement, the moment it was stated out loud, seemed to trigger something within the man. As his eyes suddenly narrowed, before zeroing in on the Director’s own gaze of wanton affirmation.

“That’s exactly where the heart of my proposal lies, McCay.” She responded, allowing a brief moment of silence for the man to interject.

Which he didn’t, simply using that downtime to gesture for the Director to continue.

“You recall the second joint-departmental conference we had a few months ago, correct?”

“Yeah, the one where we formalized a total of four bilateral channels of cooperative projects?”

“Correct. We had initially proposed a fifth project. Namely, the assigning of IAS personnel to LREF ships equipped with ship-grade N-GEEM sensor suites, for the purposes of expediting subspeciality-specific evidence-based decision making processes for LREF personnel on retracing and rescanning missions.”

The Field Captain narrowed his eyes at that, leaning back against his own seat as he did so. “Is that you talking, or is that you reciting the fifth project’s entire title and header, Weir?”

“Is it really necessary to make that distinction, McCay?” The Director replied with a nonplussed expression, eliciting a tentative chuckle from the Field Captain.

“I guess it isn’t. Well I can definitely see the issues right off the bat with that project proposal. You’d really be pushing your administration’s reach. And, to be quite honest, you’d be threading the needle with the exclusive security oversight the Army has over you. With that being said, I can start to see where you’re going with this. So please, continue.” The man gestured once more, before diving back into sneaking in a few savory bites once he believed he knew where the Director was going with her proposal.

“You’re correct in that assertion, Field Captain. We removed the fifth project from the joint-departmental conference as a concession to the Army’s growing frustration with us. However, this wasn’t the first instance we received pushback from the Army.” The Director paused to let out an exasperated breath, as she steadied herself. “In fact, this growing trend of internal scrutiny and indecision, as well as the practical constraints as a result of the Army’s inherent lack of space assets, is what brings me to my proposal. Whilst the IAS is without a doubt, bound by founding charter to an exclusive security oversight deal with the army, that doesn’t mean that a second, sister agency would necessarily have to follow the same trajectory. In fact, an entirely new sister agency wouldn’t be bound by any of the current constraints of the IAS’ charter.”

“Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

The Director reached for a briefcase, pulling out a physical file, thousands of pages thick, slamming it next to the tower of finger foods, causing the whole thing to rattle in place.

“The mission statement, and thus the entire founding charter that followed, stemmed from our desire to prove interdimensional travel possible. Pilot I was the proof of concept, albeit one that ended in tragedy.” The Director paused, giving a moment of silence in respect to a fallen explorer, a move that the Field Captain intuitively followed. A minute of silence passed, before the Director continued.  “The twenty years between Pilot I and Pilot II was a constant back and forth between the UNSA, the Army, and Assembly auditors that threatened to wrestle the whole institute into a de-facto state of deadlock, strangling it through internal indecision. We had more we wished to do in the time between Pilot I and II. In fact, once we were well aware of the presence of N-GEEMs, or... Mana, as our more eccentric scientists put it… we wished to pursue more tangential missions aside from our intended purpose of proving interdimensional travel possible.”

“Such as putting NEXUS-Grade Exotic Energies and Material sensors, or rather, mana-sensors on our ships to retrace our steps to see what we might’ve missed.” The Field Captain quickly interjected, leaning closer and closer towards the Director as he began eyeing the massive physical document in front of him.

“Exactly. However, none of that was possible given the setbacks from Pilot I, and the fallout that followed. We were bound to our mission statement, and showing progress on that front first. We were in no political situation to diverge and branch off from that trajectory. That’s why we’ve waited two decades to finally lay all of our cards down all in the span of the first and second quarters of this year. We knew that it would require a renewed influx of political capital and proof-of-concepts to reignite project interest, and moreover, to provide me with some sway in proposing what I’ve proposed thus far. The current uptick of interest was enough to expand upon IAS-LREF integration as proven by the four projects approved over the second inter-departmental conference.”

The Field Captain looked on with a sense of intrigue, his eyes once more meeting the Director, with a mix of both respect and concern. “And with Pilot II having just launched, you’re expecting another influx of political capital the moment you receive that first burst of data back from our primary vector, or anything that would prove the project’s success. Or at least, enough renewed trust in your administration to push forward the proposal of a second entirely new sister organization.”

“Correct.”

“Hmm… and you’re proposing this to me, far in advance of Pilot II’s confirmed success, because…”

“Because I understand that you want this as much as I do, Field Captain McCay.” The Director responded without hesitation, flipping the printed proposal to its first few pages.

“As I was implying earlier, should Pilot II prove to be a success as we assume it is, then I will have the political leeway to propose the establishment of a sister organization - the Institute of Anomalous Affairs. And considering how myopic the Institute of Anomalous Studies’ mission statement and founding charter was, the IAA is meant to be everything the IAS simply cannot hope to be. To encompass research and missions that simply cannot be justified under the IAS' established mission statement and charter. Namely-”

“The exploration of any and all anomalous findings and/or incidents within our reality, that corresponds to the presence of N-GEEMs and Dark Matter.” McCay once again interjected, reading part of the charter verbatim. “And since this exploration will necessitate extra-atmospheric operations, beyond the scope of terrestrial bodies, the only military body capable of facilitating such endeavors would undoubtedly be-”

“The Long-Range Expeditionary Forces, yes.” Weir quickly interjected with a resounding smile, the first she’d shown thus far today.

This smile was reciprocated on McCay’s face, as it evolved from a simple smile, to an outright grin, and then into a bemused chuckle. “Oh Weir, what have you gotten us into?”

“The political equivalent of Emma Booker’s seemingly endless spontaneity. Or more specifically, her inherent capacity for situational adaptability and personal initiative.” Weir responded effortlessly.

The pair, seemingly exhausted from the back and forths, each took a moment to regard the lake and its few active craft in silence. Neither showed interest in any of the delectable snacks in front of them, neither broke the silence that had suddenly descended upon the four walls of the private booth.

That was, until the music in the background started to shift into an entirely new rhythm, causing the Director to finally break the silence. “So, do we have a mutual understanding, Field Captain McCay?”

The man took a moment to think things over, his eyes locking onto the massive unbound thesis of a proposal, before finally, after just under a minute of internal deliberation, he responded. “We are the LREF. No horizon is too far out of reach, and no goal is too lofty to undertake. Of course we’re on board.” The man beamed back, before quickly adding. “Now, I will of course need to review the details of this proposal, we’ll be in touch when it comes to the specifics. And I don’t think this needs to be said: but all of this is hedged on Pilot II’s confirmed success.” McCay paused, taking a moment to level his gaze squarely on the Director. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Of course. We won’t be moving forward with this just yet. But the moment we receive the first burst of data, I’ll begin going down the appropriate channels.” Weir acknowledged with an affirmative nod, as she finally leaned back in her seat to relax for the first time since starting this conversation.

“We’ll be eagerly waiting for that day, Weir. Your findings have opened up an entirely new chapter of exploration, and an entirely new world of threats. We’re practically gunning to sink our teeth into the former, and our claws into the latter if need be.”

The Director’s outward expression shifted drastically throughout that, with a clear hint of optimism soon shifting to a more dour one of concern. “Well, for the sake of the Solar Peace, let’s hope it's more of the former, than the latter, McCay.”

With a tentative few seconds of silence, the pair both let out an exhale of collective exhaustion, before being interrupted by a veritable platter full of main courses that arrived right as the conversation came to a close.

“Wait, ribs? But- oh. You ordered the usual, didn’t you?” McCay pointed out, eyeing each plate as it was carefully set down by the service bot. “We’re being served our regular fare, along with a certain missing Cadet’s.”

“Yes. Well, there’s no point in wasting perfectly good food.” Weir quickly justified, before raising a single glass of sparkling wine that’d arrived along with the main courses. “To Pilot II.”

“To Pilot II.” McCay reciprocated with a smile, clinking their glasses, before each taking a well earned sip of the bubbly drink. “Let’s just hope that wherever our brave cadet is, she’s busy wining and dining with whatever the interdimensional equivalent of a rack of ribs is.”

“There are certain practical considerations to be had with that.” The Director responded with a tentative smile, before steadying herself for another line of conversation. “Now, onto other matters then. How are things looking with Project Farsight?”

The late afternoon eventually turned to evening, conversations continuing far into the night, as another day at the Waterfront came and went.

It is said that not a day passes at the Waterfront where a big idea or a grand proposal is made, or is at least considered.

Today was most certainly a testament to that notion.