Conversation · Joyce Messier

"There will be no gloaming. There will be slow, simmering, hideous civil war. The beginnings of a failed state. No rapture, just ugliness."

"Bring in everything you have and wipe them from the face of the earth."

"Such a thing isn't in my character."

It is. It is well within her character.

"The workers should have the harbour."

"Do you think it's within my authority to give it to them? Do you think I can control the board and the shell-shocked mercenaries they've sent?"

It is. It is well within her authority. It's been clear for some time that this woman is more than she lets on.

"First, will this affect your decision making process?"

"Everything affects the decision making process, detective."

"Officer..." The look on the lieutenant's face conveys uncertainty. He doesn't even sound angry.

For once, I don't seem to know what the right thing to do is.

A constrictor knot of contrary motives: greed, fear. There may be a way to affect her through these microscopics...

"Cut off the snake's head. Evrart's pushing all this."

"Like the previous leaders of the Union were assassinated? I suspect by Evrart and Edgar themselves..." She considers it.

"I admit there's some poetry in the idea. And like poetry, it's also useless. There would still be Edgar. They've factored it in. The Union is them and they are Martinaise."

"It's not the RCM's job to make these decisions."

"Of course. Your job is to clean up after them. And it looks like there will be a lot of cleaning to be done in the near future."

"It's a bluff. Call it. Have them open fire and see how long they last."

"One day you will realize you can't simply go around saying these things about the citizens we're here to protect."

"They will last as long as the drug trade in Jamrock provides them with support. With all due respect, that will be a long and bloody time."

"You've already made up your mind, ma'am. What is it?"

"I wish there was a disco option."

"I'm afraid we won't disco our way out of this one..." she says, with considerable regret.

Does it matter? Or has her mind been made up for quite a while now?

"It will be a massacre, the Union is massively out-gunned."

"They have the support of Revachol West. They have the position... this will be a prolonged and bloody conflict. The only question is how long -- and how bloody." She falls silent.

"I have seen them. The Union is well prepared to take on Krenel."

"You think Krenel is the only contractor Wild Pines employs? They'll only be the start. More will come. The question is how many years and lives will it take?" She falls silent.

"It will take a long time to kill them all. A lot of lives will be lost."

"I can ask him to let you in."

"No," her eyes return to you. "It's naive of me. He sent you -- this is the negotiation now."

"And if he does not change course it will be a war negotiation, detective."

"He's ready for a war. They all are."

"They most certainly are not." Her eyes return to you. "Krenel has a thousand men on their payroll. The next batch will be a platoon of twenty men and a gunship."

"War is their goal. They think they can win before you even know it's started."

"An insane goal." Her eyes return to you. "Krenel has a thousand men on their payroll. The next batch will be a platoon of twenty men and a gunship. You can't simply trick them."

"Yes. It's not a strike. You aren't being let in because there's nothing to negotiate. The Union is taking the terminal."

"If they're taking it..." She look toward the colourful mountain of crates, like toy blocks rising above Martinaise.

"I'd rather talk about something else for now, if you don't mind." (Conclude.)

"Of course, detective," she simmers down. "You can always drop by later, should something come up -- now, what else can I do you for?"

"Of course, detective," she simmers down. "Should something come up, later down the road -- don't be afraid to drop by for a chat."

"Until then -- is there anything I can help you with?"

"Ma'am, this whole thing is a takeover."

...is what you're about to say when a cold streak runs through your heart. Once said, there's no going back, Harry.

Right. She hasn't even told me what she knows about the lynching.

Yes... come back to this later. This information could be explosive.

Almost gave you a heart attack, that one...

(No. Say it.) "Ma'am, this is a takeover."

Yes, there is still reality-based knowledge I can glean from her.

Yes. What if something happens to her and you've left one question un-asked. Sneaky little question escaped your eye.

"He asked me to deliver an envelope."

"Sounds like he has you running errands, detective. A well-established dominance ritual..." She thinks. "Where did he have you deliver it?"

"Here."

"Here?" She looks around. "Oh no... what does that bloated hellbat want with my little cinder block town?"

It's clear the village has already grown dear to her... strangely so. Why did she come here?

"No, don't tell me. I don't want to know what he has in store for this place... Probably a statue. It's a statue, right?"

"A giant statue of him or, better yet, his twin brother. Practically the same thing, but makes him seem less like a psychopath."

"You're quite fond of this village, aren't you?"

"I should be." She nods -- there's that crooked smile again. "In my youth I had a brief dalliance here in Martinaise. He was an older man, with impossibly broad shoulders..."

"He's probably dead by now -- even his shack is long gone... not that it matters. These buildings are all carbon copies of one another."