View source for Comm-Link:Hostile Negotiations - Part One

Settling into her customary seat on the small transport shuttle, Kayla took a sip from her thermos of ''mate'' and involuntarily grimaced. ''No sugar'', she thought, the bitter taste of the tea lingering. ''Another of Susan’s attempts at encouraging healthier habits.'' Back on [[Terra system|Terra]], Kayla had depended on a constant stream of sugar and caffeine to keep her fueled through 12-to-15-hour work days, but now that she was working a desk job, the extra calories had begun to “soften her edges,” as Susan politely put it. ''Sigh.'' Unsweetened mate it is. Bracing herself, she took another sip of the astringent brew, adding it to the long list of things on Crusader she needed to get used to.

One of the biggest hurdles so far had been trying to adjust to the [[gas giant]] itself. Out the window of the transport, the sun crested the horizon, casting a deep, desert rose hue over the endless sea of clouds. Knowing that there was no solid ground underfoot would still freak her out a bit if she thought about it too much. Sure was a pretty view though.

Kayla felt the ship slow and leaned forward to confirm they were approaching the commercial hub landing pad. Her stop. As she rose from her seat, a throng of shipyard workers riding the shuttle quickly cleared a path for her with smiles and nods. One of the perks of wearing the [[Crusader Security]] uniform.

“You have a good one, Officer Frost,” said the shuttle pilot as the side hatch unfolded, speaking loudly to be heard over the gusting wind outside.

“Thanks,” said Kayla, stepping down, one hand holding her cap in place. She quickly cleared the pad so the transport could continue on to its next stop at the neighboring shipyard complex. Once past the windbreak, she slowed her pace, used her badge to shortcut customs and turned towards the promenade.

The wide garden-lined walkway provided access to most of the various shopping plazas and services that comprised the bulk of the hub’s structures, with the added bonus of serving up some of the best vistas of [[Crusader Industries|Crusader’s]] massive vessels being constructed. Even at this early hour, tourists congregated along the length of the overlook, eagerly snapping vids as if someone was going to demand proof of their trip once they got back home. She had heard that the visitor numbers were down this year, but it hardly felt like it as she waded her way through the crowd.

It was a relief when she finally made her way inside the Crusader Security Office, a calm oasis from the buzz of activity outside. Though that was a bit disconcerting in itself. Most of the stations she had worked in were usually a jumble of officers, criminals and their unfortunate victims shouting, crying and yelling. Crusader’s insistence on using contractors to handle the mounting workload in the sector left the office feeling a bit like a ghost town. The building itself stood in sharp contrast to the bleak functionality of the bullpen that had been her second home for a decade back on Terra. With its pleasant atmosphere and ergonomic designs, you could tell that “team flow experts” and environmental psychologists who specialized in harmonizing workers with their surroundings had probably been consulted during construction. Basically, there was a lot of natural light, way too many potted plants and hallways that nearly all lead towards the “interface lounge,” i.e., the break room. As she crossed on her way to her desk, she gave her traditional greeting to the two officers coming off shift. “Hey, Bautista. Hey, Gibbs. Good shift?”

“The usual nightmare,” replied Gibbs.

“Wasn’t as bad as that,” said Bautista, stirring some creamer into his coffee.

Like her, the pair worked in the Liaison Division coordinating various contractor operations. But unlike her, they had the unsavory job of working the “lemonade stand” — the small auxiliary community outreach office. She would take her job in dispatch any day. At least that way the people she interacted with had already cleared the first hurdle of screening. Bautista and Gibbs were supposed to be “accessible,” which, in practice, meant that they spent a lot of time dealing with every wanna-be-merc coming in off the promenade.