Miles
“Miles, what hare you doing here?” Snowflake asked as she looked up from her vast comm-console. The affection of surprise in her voice seemed genuine. She checked herself immediately, she knew that Miles knew that surprising her at the portal of her office threshold was impossible.
His bow was fluid and well practised, he had come a come long way from the stiff-necked assertiveness born of the circumstance behind cultural dissociation. It amused her to think of them as mannerisms.
He chose to answer carefully, tangentially. “Principle Overseer, I have been careful to hitch a circuitous route here to talk privately with you, to, " a prolonged pause” check, how we are doing."
Miles was no longer a baseliner nor could he be considered a true capsualeer, his search for truth had brought him into the murky world of warclone technology. She was almost certain that the “we” in question was the world of Kabar, particularly its regeneration facilities.
“As well as can be expected under the circumstances. Your project proceeds at pace does it not?”
“My project? Yes, of course, but there is discussion among Tyro of division between The Sistren. I did just as you directed. Is this your intent?”
“My intent as always is to protect and preserve the members of our Order. At this time it is useful to appear ineffectual when we both know that is far from the case. Nothing is as it seems Miles. The Federation imposes a united front while its foundations crumble. You ask me how we are doing, from that perspective I have to answer; not well. So I ask you Miles, how are you and your team doing? Are you prepared for the close work to come?”
Miles wry smile coloured the tone of his reply. “As well as can be expected Principle Overseer.”
She nodded and brought to life a holo-projection-map that accompanied a tracer agents report. “Good, then take a look at this and tell me what you think.”