StarDestroyer.Net BBS

I decided with Chris to put together a short in two parts covering the details of Cardinal’s life between When Two Worlds Collide and An Inside Job. This is to give an idea of day-to-day life in the Empire and provide some more details of her personality, and I decided to release it while An Inside Job was still being written since it predates it chronologically, though we’re certainly going to ultimately write some prequel stories from Cardinal’s early career. Anyway, do enjoy, and I hope the look inside life in the Habsburg Empire is informative.


The Cardinal Files: Just a Day Off.

By Marina and Christopher Purnell.

(Two piece short story, of which this is the first part).


After the AI Wars, Prague, like most cities, had been overrun by vast arcologies. Then the collapse of the Empire, the civil wars, had seen them fall into decay, and now, of course, recover again. So there were elderly Arcologies, new arcologies, and the areas of the city which had been built before--the medieval core--and the areas wedged between the arcology segments, suburbs and districts now integrated into Prague which had been built in the times of chaos. It was in one of these that Senior Inspector Sophia Dragomira Vuletic had made her home essentially since she'd been inducted into the service on the other end of the maglev line in Wien many decades before. She was, after all, seventy years old and had been in the service for longer than some of her colleagues had been alive. Not like it looked apparent, naturally, but she had been one of the first to get the really substantial life extension modifiers, paid for with her service bonus, and they'd served her well.

The flat she lived in, however, was anything but; it was the penthouse on a rat-trap six story building that looked like it must have failed fire safety inspections for ten years in a row, and the main virtue it had was that the maglev line next to it was intubed so that there was no noise; minimal street traffic, the whole neighbourhood the sort that was largely populated by pimps and prostitutes and cops looking for both. It was not the sort of place a fifty year veteran of the civil service, and a very peculiar branch which got substantial hazard pay at that, should be living in.

Nonetheless, she had maintained the apartment with some stubborn dedication, it seemed, and the windows, on approaching it (the stairs had proved wiser after it seemed the elevator's safety permit was three years out of date), were actually washed and maintained, though they were all draped. Sophia valued her privacy, even at 1800 hours in early autumn on a reasonably warm day when anyone else might have wanted to appreciate the sun..

Leonidas paused momentarily to reflect on the implications. Living here fit in a piece with everything else he knew about his star field-agent, with her strange mixture of scrupulous professionalism and religious fanaticism. He scarcely needed proof that she was beyond the influence of material possessions, but here he was before her door and confronted with more evidence to that effect.

He had known the rough conditions she had lived around beforehand, of course, but seeing them first-hand still made an impact. Perhaps, he wryly thought, that was why he was a headquarters personnel manager and not a field agent himself. The seedy surroundings raised a minor flag in his mind, the fear that Sophia might one night be accosted by one of the pimps or a drug addict, and while he had no doubt she could take care of herself having to kill off-duty would raise problems.

It might be paranoid to expect some enemy might have access to the Prague police department records, but he was paid to be paranoid. Putting the thought aside, though, he stepped forward and rapped politely on the penthouse door. Unsurprisingly there was no electronic buzzer.

"Leonidas von Pleven, here to call upon the lady Sophia Vuletic," he announced after he had finished knocking. It was a polite introduction, but informal enough to indicate that he was not here on business.

The door was almost immediately, and promptly, opened by a rather shocked looking, somewhat plump lady likely in her late twenties and dressed in the dour but practical sort of skirt and clothes one would expect of a worker at a local restaurant or hotel in the cleaning staff. She peered up with rather wide eyes and then smiled. "Why, my apologies, Sir, but I come by to clean Miss Vuletic's flat in the evening and make her dinner. I suppose you're an acquaintance of her's from the Civil Service? She's in her room listening to music with headphones at the moment, so I doubt she's heard--'tis what she usually does when I'm cleaning. Do come inside, and I'll let her know you're here, good Sir."

Beyond her, even in the foyer, an opened closet showed an array of coats--the floor had just been vacuumed, it seemed--most of them black and long, two short and gray. There were shelves to the immediate side of the foyer leading into the living room, and they were utterly packed with old-fashioned paper bound books in what were, offhand, a half a dozen languages.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am," Leonidas replied, stepping into the the apartment. He was pleased that Vuletic was at least using her salary for something. A domestic to keep the place tidy saved valuable time and effort for work and other interests, and he approved of the old-fashioned books. Too many of the lower orders that came into money thought an electronic viewscreen that could display any text was superior to physical copies of a single text. Aristocrats like himself, who had taste, knew better.

As the domestic wandered off to notify her mistress of his arrival, Leonidas glanced idly at the shelves. He knew from experience she was a genius with languages, though anyone in the Service had to be. A goodly amount on the nearest shelf was Russian, he saw; and none of it was light.

The apartment was certainly crammd--the living room looked like it was the size of one for a lower middle class house or condominium at the best, and there were only two bedrooms, the larger of the two the girl had disappeared into. As for the living room, a sofa, a wet bar, and a single table, as well as a dresser--who knew what it was doing there. The carpet was white and the walls held only artwork, though of that there was plenty interesting: Several of the works were religious prints, indeed, perhaps a third.

Another third were traditional classical prints in other scenes; the final third, though, were originals. There was one of a woman in bronze armour with a spear driving a quadriga, another of a sensuously nude green-skinned woman, like a personification of nature, wrapped in vines, with dark hair and a seductive expression with reddish eyes, done in watercolour, the woman herself clear while the background seemed vaguely Impressionist on a forest. There was a beautiful landscape of a lighthouse on a high cliff, and another of a mountain valley beheld with a huge looming stratovolcano over it.

And finally, there was one of a Taloran and a human sitting together on a garden swing, seeming new; beside them was a print of what was, from the swords and spears and panoramic scale, the brilliant blue eyes of the green haired alien female that looked across, hungry and eager at the contemptuous sneer of an opposing, almost shock white haired fellow, probably an historical print. Perhaps those two were the most subtle evidence of her devastating brilliance in the field--not content with exploding her own heart with adrenalines to stay functional long enough to bring out Biers, she'd slipped two paintings into her pack to carry with her.

Beyond the paintings, there was also crowded into the living room a fireplace, seeming somewhat disused, and two bookshelves, both of which were crammed to the point that packing crates were being used to keep a few piles of lower-brow mass market books off the floor while the more precious and heavy reading, and it still already numbered in the hundreds of books, was kept safely on the shelves. And many, many of these books were worn enough to have been at least somewhat heavily read, if reverently cared for: And this from a woman who had spent more than half of the past fifty years away from her flat on missions of importance for the state, and several more years of her life recuperating from the endless surgeries required not merely for wounds, but which she volunteered for to bring herself a constantly changing appearance.

The domestic stepped out of the far left bedroom, leaving the door open, and there she was--Sophia followed, her left palm and hand proper still criss-crossed in light support bandages in the final stage of their healing, though as she flexed the fingers on the door it was clear she'd regained almost all of her movement in the appendage as she seemed to duck around the corner and stare at Leonidas for a long moment. "Hi father," she finally snarkily said--in English, which she knew Pleven was at least somewhat fluent in, showing a delicate brilliance for the sensibilities of her private joke, making sure her domestic could not understand it, that is to say--as she seemed surprised at his presence. "Am I in trouble?"

Then the snarky disposition vanished to fast for reaction, and she matter-of-factly continued: "I told Marta to clean up real quick and leave if we need to talk. Have my computer making sure that's safe right now."

Pleven nodded, appreciating her discretion as the mark of a fine agent. He then broke into his own bemused smile, resisting the momentary temptation to ruffle the hair of the woman who reminded him of a niece more than a hardened spy and killer. "I'm not here on business as such, but it's good to see you're keeping sharp. I came by today to see how you were doing in person, and to make sure that you have everything you need for your recovery. I'm glad to say that you look a lot better than the last time I saw you."

That had been in the hospital on Olympus Mons, after the operation to replace her destroyed heart with an artificial organ. Understatement, certainly; but she was evidently in good spirits and healing well, which was nice to confirm. His main concern, though, lay with her mind. She was so reclusive, so isolated, that he had decided to gauge her mental stability while away from her duties with this unannounced sympathy visit as a perfect excuse. Though, to be sure, he was also somewhat fond of his agent and just a bit concerned for reasons that had nothing to do with her efficiency reports.

"Well," she finally said as the domestic waved goodbye to her and stepped out, shutting the door, "Since the computer just pinged back to my interface that we're in the clear," like many agents she necessarily had a DNI, as it made hacking vastly easier, and controlling certain equipment, though it was running on a low-level setting at the moment, not full interface, "I'll say this. I probably shouldn't have volunteered to go straight back into the Taloran Empire the moment that I recovered enough to stand. Oh, sure, we all thought it was going to be a simple information gathering run on some non-classified material for which I just happened to be the most knowledgeable individual. But, ah, nothing goes according to plan. Ever, it seems.”

A slightly hesitant pause: “So, another few months, I’d say. The hand especially is the most irritating part, really--I can get used to not having a heartbeat, it helps me sleep at night actually. Uh, do you want anything to drink?" She looked up wide eyed and slightly embarrassed, like she ought have been more courteous, but it simply hadn't occurred to her 'till now.

Obviously she wasn't used to having guests, von Pleven observed superfluously to himself. "Yes, thank you very much for the offer. The monorail service scarcely has any refreshment options these days, too relentlessly practical about moving people around." He dismissed the efficiency with a wave. "And everyone really is amazed by the material you brought back. I just want to be sure, when there is a next time, that you come back in better shape."

Sophia, who was dressed in a black, ruffled, and flaring skirt that ended about halfway down her shins, stepped deflty around Leonidas, who after all was probably close to a foot taller than she was; her head being that most childlike thing about her, for certainly her body was for all its shortness quite womanly, and very attractive besides.

Her appeareance, generically Mediterranean, was sufficiently believable as a Croat that nobody would doubt her ethnic ancestry, even though as best as anyone could tell from her records she was actually French, which perhaps explained her sometimes boringly ruthless behaviour. The top was a fairly simply blouse which sometimes threatened to shown her midrift as she stretched and walked, but otherwise completely covered her upper body in modesty, if conforming rather tightly; it was also short-sleeved. She was wearing socks, defiantly, in the pair of sandals she'd slipped into, though they were long enough to cover her legs which was probably the reason for them.

At home, Sophia seemed rigidly asexual, and her whole tendency to constantly dress like she was at a funeral, or a puritan, or, as the office joke when she was during work in Wien on the training programme between duty assignments went, a puritan at a funeral....

...It was not quite true, but from the total absence of any kind of jewelry even being seen on her, one could understand it. She slipped over to the wet bar in silence and then dropped down almost like an animal onto her haunches, skirt neatly draping onto the floor to never once betray the slightest hint of immodesty in a practiced but still odd behaviour as she opened up the cabinet doors, and the refridgerator next to them.

"My whites are, I fear, mostly south German varieties; the reds are Spanish, and I've got port, sherry, and madeira as well, all genuine marques. There's also amaretto if you want something stiffer; I'm fond of it, so I have a fair bit. And some Mason brandy. That's it, I fear--I receive few guests, and fewer are respectable sorts of people." She glanced up at that, realizing it required an explanation: "Sometimes I'll take in girls from off the street and try to get them set up at some Benedictine shelter or another in the city for reforming them."

"I can't imagine you have much luck there," Leopold chuckled, "but I suppose good works are their own reward." There was no question of her propriety, though in other circumstances such an admission might have been misinterpreted. "I'll just have a glass of red, thank you."


He tried not to betray any of his thoughts. Her strange personality, however odd and frequently disconcerting, was some part of what made her such an effective agent. The austerity of her conditions and her seeming isolation from any social life or respectable company led him to some concern for her overall stability, but she had been at this for decades.

For that matter he well understood her intense religiosity as a coping mechanism for what she was required to do on behalf of the Empire, so if she was spending all her free-time trying to reform prostitutes in the area it wasn't a surprise. At least it gave her something to do that involved some human interaction now and then, which was a strong concern of the staff mental-health evaluators.

"I will be attending Compline this evening," she said offhand as she offered a glass of wine to Leonidas and then grasped lightly in her right hand--she wasn't sure of the steadiness of her left, yet, which still gave the occasional spasm or quiver--and moved for them to sit at the table, which short of the rather to intimate sofa was the only seating, anyhow. "And after that, slient, but it is still three hours before I must go to services, and you'd be welcome to accompany me."

She didn't elaborate on the monastic implication of silence after Compline, which probably hinted that it was a mercifully restrained version of her typical post-mission penitence. Apparently even the priests she'd found who were willing to proscribe for her harsher penance in lieu of duration, due to the nature of her missions, had a strict limit for how much they'd impose on Sophia in her present condition--and she seemed untroubled by that, though as always it was rather hard to tell with Sophia.

"As for how much luck I have, well, in the decades I've lived here, I think I've successfully helped about four women out of prostitution and saved a couple of others from it--including my domestic. She was evicted from her apartment and lost her prior job due to some silly, misfortunate thing and I noticed her around here, so I gave her some work and a place to stay and wrote up a rather dramatically impressive recommendation. Now she's engaged--one of those things which makes me genuinely happy to think about, really." She smiled fondly.

"I established my reputation in this neighbourhood a very long time ago, actually before I'd switched to field division from DNI InSec in my twenties, back when I had to worry less about secrecy. That's why I don't move--I'd have to be quiet and in the shadows anywhere else. The reigning belief is that I'm the illegitimate daughter of someone important, given a comfortable life in exchange for avoiding society completely, and it works fine for security purposes. There are places like it in every human city in the Cosmos, and, I suspect, the Taloran ones as well, and I suppose that when you put any yeoman girl amongst the very scum of the Earth that there's always a fair chance she'll behave as I do and not fall down to their level, Sir. I like to fancy so, anyhow."

"That seems like a plausible enough cover," Leonidas concurred, "and this close to the Court... there are no shortage of embarrassed nobles with illegitimate children to hide. I'm sure it also keeps the pimps from getting too uppity about your efforts to save their women from that sort of life. Your general seclusion should also keep people from asking questions around the neighborhood during your absences. While we generally don't interfere in the private lives of our agents, if you need anything to strengthen the legend or improve your security here the Service will try to oblige."

He took a sip of the wine to cover his brief pause for thought. The red was decent but not exceptional, good taste for a table wine and still suitable for drinking alone, which was a good balance of taste and practicality. His own attendance at Mass was sporadic and he found too much somber religiosity to be dreary, but it was a vital part of his best agent's personality and he had come out here specifically to get a better feel for her recovery and stability. "I would also be delighted to attend Compline with you. Fortunately my major-domo knows better than to expect me to have any sort of regular schedule, even on my days off. And the family does think I need to pay more attention to my soul."

"You should," Sophia smiled with genuine happiness. "The Court sometimes resembles Babylon a bit to much for my tastes, though," she gestured back to the wall that had had the nude of a green-skinned woman on it very prominently, "I chose that painting mostly to remind myself that a Catholic has no business being unrelenting about such things."

She sipped again, and whimsical eyes flickered downward to the table for a moment, indeed, she did when showing emotion seem more like a young niece than what she was, over seventy and a fifty-year veteran of the intelligence service. "I admit, the last mission bothered me rather substantially. The very last part. Having my heart explode was painful, certainly, but it was all put right in the end, and I've made my peace with death on numerous times before. But on the second go-'round in Oralnif I do believe I genuinely encountered... ..The malevolence the Bible tries to describe in the earliest times of humanity. I don't see how anyone could handle being touched by that without faith."

"We have a state religion, and yet sometimes I think we pay little heed to it as a society," she added, thinking hard. "I am sure there has been all sorts of sophisticated analysis done on what I saw, and yet for all that I fancy myself educated, and not merely out of a sense that field agents shouldn't think to deeply about these things, but out of a genuine feeling, ... I am going to content myself with saying that Iblis was a survivor of the Deluge. The sheer paucity of evidence of the existence of his civilization, after all, seems to tell me that it was simply wiped from the face of the Earth by God."

Leonidas nodded politely, if not entirely in agreement. "I can't comment extensively on what our analysts have to say about the information we've recovered, but that would make as much sense as anything else I've heard. You do have the advantage of having personally encountered that... intelligence first-hand. If it has reinforced your faith I suppose that's for the best. It might be the best shield we have if we encounter its like in our own universe."

He shook his head slightly. "That business of Iblis uploading its mind into a computer, and creating the Cylons, it all strikes me as too much like what the Technocore was driving at. It's something we may have to keep an eye on, especially if those fools in the ADN give free reign to their own artificial intelligences when they develop them. At least, from your reports, the Talorans have shown more circumspection there despite having a capability on par with our own."

"Considerable. They've only brought two AIs online in their entire history, and neither are network connected," Sophia elaborated, though she was sure that she'd mentioned that in the reports. Probably what he was referring to.

"There's one reference I made in the reports, which I've been privately fearing didn't get stressed enough, though, and I didn't want to raise a fuss by stating it directly, since it's all feelings and impressions, but there's a salient fact buried into them. Now that you're here, I'll remind you--you can look back through and see the statement--and consider the implications of it," she added, frowning vaguely.

"It's nice to just be able to talk like this after I've recollected my thoughts--remember how Iblis revealed a bit to me? He wasn't a survivor from the old civilization. A much more powerful survivor had created him--and that survivor was killed by someone. He evidenced substantial fear in saying this, through the feedback loop, and .. I fancy that means the other survivor is still alive, somewhere. Somewhere out there, another one, and strong enough for Iblis to fear at that…" She trailed off, disquieted and thoughtful with the burdens of a mind which would also know too much to ever be at peace.

Ah, so you got around to posting it, excellent.

The Cardinal Files: Just a Day Off.

By Marina and Christopher Purnell.

(Two piece short story, of which this is the second part).


Leonidas quickly called to memory Sophia's report of her interactions with the Iblis intelligence, and the more besides that he knew. D'anna Biers had proved that the Colonial language was related to that of the Sarasavsati, one half of what had once been considered a singular Ancient Builder civilization. The other half were apparently the Asvin that had created Iblis, and if he was to be believed, telempaths like Sophia and the extinct Betazed humanoforms. The structures under Olympus Mons and in the core of Ceres were testimony to how powerful these beings had been, and most troubling of all, discrete efforts had proven the presence of a Sarasavsati tomb in the Pamirs of multiple Earths. And excavation of the incredible weapons in Antarctica was just beginning.

"Iblis alone is bad enough," he finally said, responding to Sophia's musings about his enemy. "Thus far we have found no evidence of any beings of his class, or greater, that we were not already aware of. Thank God, there's no evidence of Q or Vorlons or so on in our universe. And if Iblis has an enemy more powerful than himself, we certainly can't assume that enemy is benevolent and would simply be another great risk."

"I know," Sophia answered barely above a whisper. "Well, not something for me to worry about, like I said. God will protect us, or show us a way, if it comes to that. More likely beings of such power are mere shadows whose interest in it us would be incidental at worst." She crossed herself, though otherwise there wasn't any sign of nervousness from Cardinal.

"The track record of such beings is not encouraging, least of all now that of Iblis." The Evidenzburo was already on alert for any sign of that creature in the broader multiverse. But Leonidas nodded his head anyway. "We rely on God's providence, without doubt, but we must be prepared to deal with these things. At least thanks to your recent work we are warned about the threat, and now know far more about the facilities and other relics of the so-called Ancient Builders. Not that we'll be correcting Xenoarcheological Departments the Empire over anytime soon."

Sophia laughed merrily about that. "Sadly, life-spans haven't been increased to the point that I'll live long enough to write a book." A pause, and a wry shrug and faint grin: "Of course, father," she added in her usual address for Leonidas, "If they were, it would probably mean I'd just keep on working longer, and it'd be the same difference."

"I don't doubt it," he said, laughing along. "No doubt the service would be grateful to have you for as long as you wish." There was little question she'd work until they forced her out, and it was becoming clearer and clearer that was likely what was going to wind up happening... but decades from now, thankfully enough.

"For as long as I look pretty, anyway," Sophia commented almost slyly, though it was a pointed observation of where many of her skills came from. "Though I suppose even then some lighter missions would be possible. I do keep myself quite fit, when I'm not injured." She stretched rather lazily. "But you know all the intimate details of my physical health already. I wouldn't have much of a life without the service, and I wouldn't have much of a purpose in the service without being a field agent. It makes me happy, you know; I have less stress on missions than between them."

"Something that bedevils our staff physicians, I'll admit." It was quite the opposite with most of their agents, and speculation ran rampant among those who had screened Cardinal, or just her mental health file. Adrenaline junkie was one of the kinder assessments. Thus far however her behavior had never been anything but exemplary and professional, if certainly highly daring. "Do you have any plans while on recuperative leave, now? It certainly looks like your convalescence is almost done, but there's still a while left on your mandatory exclusion from work."

"Oh, I was thinking about going back to that resort on Vis again, though there is a certain temptation to perhaps do some mountain climbing somewhere for a change, and to get somewhat better with that skill, and discipline my hand back to use," she gestured to it. "But honestly I'm not sure myself if I'm healthy enough for that, whereas swimming and free-diving is comparatively easy.." She had a somewhat vague look as she considered it, certainly as usual Cardinal's vacations were their own office legend. "I could go to India and pretend to be a pearl-diver?" The look then told that she was unserious over the last part, at least.

“The office rumor pool would love that," he said, chuckling. "Though I could get you a hotel in one of those old Mughal palaces and villas in Agra, if India holds any appeal. Not that you're one to pamper yourself, but a resort visit could do you good and the city is lovely. Or there's the waters at Karlsbad, closer to home."

You," Sophia focused in this mocking glare, "Are trying to get me to actually relax, I daresay. And then who would I be?" Pfft, she made a soft noise with her curled lips and grinned. "Well, I could simply randomly choose to do something completely random."

"I think that would approximate general opinion of how you spend your down-time," Leonidas joked. He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "That said, I do not want my finest agent sidelined because some shrink decides you are too worn-out for further fieldwork. It will spare me quite a lot of paperwork overturning that if you take a bit of a vacation. You certainly deserve it, along with the gratitude of the Empire."

"Alright, I'll do it, then." She paused and looked seriously thoughtful... For maybe ten seconds. Then, she just named her destination. "Lake Titicaca."

He shook his head in admiration. "As close to the middle of nowhere that you can still get on this planet. Even I haven't been there. Exploring the Inca ruins, or just want to challenge yourself at that elevation?"

"I'll do both, though my initial motivation was just to go diving, and exploring the floating reef islands I've heard of. Nothing particularly strenuous. It's not like I can give myself a heart attack anymore, anyway." She tapped lightly at her chest to emphasize the artificial heart and smiled very sweetly.

"Not with the best medical technology in the Empire inside you," he said agreeably. "It sounds like a good trip then and will reassure a lot of minds within the service. I hope you enjoy yourself, and if you require any influence to get decent accommodations or access or the like, don't hesitate to let me know. The Empire owes you a great deal, and exercising my connections on your behalf is the least of what we should do for you."

"Well..." She gestured uncertainly, thinking... No, from the faintly blank look she was probably using her wireless link to her computer to access information on the region. "Aguas Calientes has to be named that way for a reason, don't you think?"

"That it is. Wonderful hot springs, there are a couple of resorts in the area as a base for expeditions up to the Inca Ruins at Macchu Picchu. A lot more developed than Lake Titicaca, to put it mildly, but still fortunately off the radar of the nouveau riche." Karlsbad was kept clear of social climbers by the exclusivity of its Court clientele, but too many other famous resorts on Earth were overrun by the bourgeoisie. "I can arrange for you to have a room for the rest of your leave. Longer, if you desire. Your vacation leave has hardly been touched in years."

"I'll cut you a deal," Sophia answered with a glimmer of amusement. "I'll take the rest of my mandatory exclusion at Aguas Calientes and a fortnight of vacation leave afterwards on Lake Titicaca."

"Deal." Leonidas smiled broadly. "It will be good to see you relaxing after all that you've gone through. Though God knows what the office will think. Probably that I blackmailed you into it."

"Well, there is often an assumption that I must be doing something worthy of blackmail," Sophia answered with fondness. "When really it's a fairly banal life, off-duty... I suppose my charity to the prostitutes here wouldn't be that brilliantly well received, though."

"They'd never believe the glamorous, infamous Cardinal could live such a spartan life," he said, a little sadly. "Still, your superiors have every confidence in you, and the only judge of your soul is God. I have made sure that your reports are in the secret file and will do credit to your extraordinary services when they are consulted."

"I'm not sure I want the credit," Sophia answered softly. "As long as my brothers' children have happy lives and fine families of their own, and if my work has done a bit more to make that true for every family in the Empire, I should not give one whit if all my deeds vanish into obscurity. But I have too much of an affinity for history to actually try to suppress it, either."

"Well, I dare say it will be a long, long time before your services to the Empire are credited to the degree they deserve, if ever. Whether it happens or not, it is deserved." He finished off the glass of red wine, and sat it down neatly on a table before him. "While you're away, if you need to make arrangements of any sort to continue your singular ministry, I can help with that as well."

"I come and go as it is," Sophia answered. "And I'm not sure if that should change. What street-walkers would trust a man, and what sort of woman would volunteer to live here? Perhaps if you could convince a nurse to occupy my apartment sometimes, say she is a cousin, that would be nice. Would prevent overdoses, at least..." There was an infinitely sad expression that flickered across her face for the briefest of moments. There were many forgotten death certificates in the bureaus of the Prague police establishment which marked Sophia Vuletic as the discoverer of a body, cause of death by overdose of drugs. Fifty years and a ruthless instinct had been plenty of time to find more often than not the human deritus of the place at the end of life, and that, unlike the missions, never got easier.

"A fair point," he conceded. "It might be possible to arrange for a nurse to watch over your apartment, I'll see what I can do there." Another discrete female agent, one trained with basic medical skills. "More broadly, if you require money or some manner of favors to help your projects, I have more than I can do with." And if it helped keep Cardinal on an even keel, it was quite worthwhile.

"Oh, no. I've always been judicious about my investments, and other than collecting books and buying presents for my nephews and nieces, well.” A shrug. “The service even pays the flat's rent when I'm on assignment, after all. I don't precisely have expenses much greater than those of anyone else who lives in this area. It is... Well, often a safe place away from their pimps for a while is all they need, really. I'd not want to give out money; shelter and food goes a much longer way."

The aristocrat nodded in agreement. "Certainly makes sense. Still, there are resources if you need them. I hope you'll keep that in mind." Doing good was its own reward, and there seemed little else that he could do to compensate her.

"Thank you, daddy," she smiled impishly and glanced to the one discreet clock on the wall. "Well, shall we walk to the compline service, then...? I promise to choose a route which won't sully your reputation. On the way there, anyway. On the way back, that’s both unavoidable and nobody can make out features at night, fortunately, to make it irrelevant.”

"Ah, yes, wouldn't do to scandalize the Court," he said, a bit lightly. "I trust you to lead on, then."

Sophia smiled, and pushed herself up from her chair, stepping over to the first of her closets to pull out one of her long black dusters that she usually wore, and slipped into it with a light smile on that rather dusky face of her's as she looked back. "Thank you for coming to visit. I have been a bit lonely of late, I'll admit, between the repeated recoveries in short succession, and urgency of debriefings preventing my visiting my family."

"It was nothing to make the trip," he casually dismissed. "Easy to make from Vienna, as you know." He smiled a little, though, at Sophia's duster. It was a little on the warm side for even a light coat, but she always dressed as modestly as possible, sometimes even conspicuously so. "I do hope this time we'll be able to keep you in the Empire long enough that you can arrange a visit to your family. If nothing else that means we won't be having any astropolitical crises for a while."

"Or," Sophia said with a remarkable dose of pessimism, tempered only by the fact that she wasn't serious, "The astropolitical crisis will be taking place inside the Empire."

"Let's hope not. The Deluge was the last serious one." He stood up, walking over to his agent. On a whim, he offered her his arm. "Shall I escort you to mass, then?"

"Thank you kindly, Sir," she smiled as she took Leonidas' arm, and they started off.


*************************************


It was quite some time later, and more importantly dark, when they were returning from the church with Sophia patiently silent, her arm on Leonidas', unspeaking. Even though she was holding to her vow, Leonidas had certainly thought it appropriate to escort her home in the evening, and she had accepted naturally with a certain aplomb. Well, it had lasted for a while anyway. They had almost gotten back home in the distinctly scummy neighbourhood when there were sounds of a scuffle ahead.

Sophia offered a slight little smile and slipped away with a grace which hinted at her flexibility and, when required, lethality. One moment she was there, and it seemed the next she'd swung to face down one of the alleyways. And, perhaps to Leonidas' surprise, she spoke at once. "Hey Janos, get away from her!" The voice contained a certain frightening compulsion which, if, since vocalized, was not telepathic and thus rather illegal, seemed almost laced with an emotional impulse of vicious, snarling anger. The simple words, not even obscene, seemed to have their effect.

The scene revealed when he caught up showed a man in black, heavyset dashing down the alleyway, as little and slight Sophia approached the very skanky and mousy blonde who in her high platform shoes and minimalist clothing had an unmistakeable 'profession'. And had been given a fairly solid beating where it wouldn't be so much of an issue with customers. She was coughing badly and hunched over as gloved hands brushed delicately under the clothes and Sophia asked where it hurt in an abrupt reversion to tenderness that hinted that the vigour of her words had been fed by the very anger of Janos. “Now, come on, I’ll make you an evening meal, and make sure you’re not badly bruised.”

The girl, though, saw Leonidas and froze, recognizing him as a man of stature and doubtless recoiling in fear at the prospect that he was a police inspector. “I, Sophia… well who the hell is that, at least?” The girl answered, gesturing to Leonidas.

Sophia followed the expression and trailed into a wry smile. "I am very religious, Sir, but also very practical. Helping people comes first, before even penance." She glanced at once back to the girl. "Monika, he's a colleague of mine from work and was just walking me home before returning to Wien. We can go to my place if you're just willing to trust me for once; for as long as you want, promise..."

"Ah, yes, I was heading home after seeing Fraulein Vuletic to her door." Leonidas glanced around the area, looking for any sign of other people. At least her pimp had beaten a very quick retreat and likely wouldn't be back. The sheer psychological intimidation Sophia’s abilities let her direct into the form, figure, and voice of a soprano who measured less than five feet was amazing to have actually seen. "I would see you there as well, if you wish."

Cardinal answered first, though: "That's alright, Sir. I wouldn't want to bother anyone's ethical scrupules," by which Sophia, with a grin, cheerfully meant that Leonidas need not trouble his reputation by escorting them. "Just please if you would give her your word before god that I don't take advantage of other women. Janos has been spreading that rumour about to discourage his girls from seeking my aid."

He almost snorted at that. Sophia wasn't sexual in any way that he could tell, while away from her missions. He also more than half-suspected a harlot was unlikely to care anyway. But, still. "I swear before God that Sophia is an honorable woman, among the most honorable I know." Morality was perhaps another question, though always in service to the Empire, and as her handler he couldn't precisely judge her for carrying out his instructions and orders.

The girl, though, nodded stiffly as she heard the words, and took them sincerely. "Th-thank you," she offered, her coughing having stopped.

Taking another slightly nervous glance at Leonidas, she then consented to gingerly reach and take Sophia's good hand--the other still in a support--who helped the girl to steady herself and start walking to the end of the alleyway in the platform shoes, which on the old cracked pavement were not particularly conductive to walking. "Thank you, Sir," Sophia offered with a grand old bit of formality. "I'll expect the details of the South American excursion at my work network account sometime tomorrow, I suppose?"

“You are most welcome." He bowed politely from the chest, another stiff touch but hopefully reassuring to the hooker—Leonidas had no desire to hinder Sophia’s quirky ministry. "I'll have my majordomo work out the details for you once I return. They will be available to you by the morning, I promise."

"Thank you! Godbless," she added with a rather soft smile, "And have a safe trip back to Wien."

Leonidas took the smile as a good sign, even given the nature of her powers. "You know the monorail, only rather safer than walking out here tonight." He was only half-joking, and grew more serious as he made his final goodbye. "Until we speak again, Sophia, godspeed."

The walk back to the station was quiet despite the rough neighborhood. Most thugs knew better than to harass a gentleman, and the pimps made sure it stayed relatively "welcoming" to the wealthy slumming it here. The important thing, he decided, was that Sophia was definitely mentally stable despite being among the most eccentric and socially withdrawn agents he knew of. Now that was odd, since the best field agents tended to be extroverted presences, but he had seen her transform on the mission before and knew roughly how her telempathic sense worked. He had always wondered a bit how she could be so self-sacrificing and undemanding, so untempted by even the very modest rewards her service entitled her to, but after seeing her at home he thought he understood.

Sophia's flamboyant personality when on assignment was a mask. Arguably her entire existence was a mask, given the way the telempath soaked up ambient emotion, but this existence was her own chosen mask. She had secluded herself in a portion of the city away from high society, away from any really tempting sins, where the bleakness could keep her focused on her duty to God. It also allowed her to exercise a personal influence in the salvation of other people, which would certainly be a significant emotional reward to her given the way her powers worked. The only other thing that she seemed truly dedicated to was her family. In a rather roundabout way, that made her an ideal woman in the Empire. Bluestockings be damned, women should focus on Family and Church.

…He smiled thinly at the irony.

Her sense of patriotism had led her into the service and her telempathic nature made her capable of becoming whatever the Empire needed her to be. He had little doubt that she would have been useless as a field agent without that sense, though probably would have made someone a fine wife. Or perhaps more likely, would have been a particularly dedicated nun. In any case, it was a confluence of the needs of the Empire and her own artificial talents that allowed her to commit such wanton immorality on assignment, and her conscious choice which sought a certain penance in her spartan lifestyle at home.

All in all, that made Cardinal far more interesting than even the worst of the office gossip-mongers could conceive of.

Once safely back on the monorail he contacted his estate and had them make the preparations for her well-deserved vacation. He yawned a bit while doing so, and stretching out on his seat decided to head off to sleep once he got back to his apartment in Vienna. It had been a rather eventful evening, and he made a note to inquire a bit more often about her conditions. The finest agent in the Empire deserved that sort of attention.