Chapter Text
It’s been a while since she’s been here.
But the flashing of the neon lights, the bass thumping in her head, the bodies grinding against one another—it’s the same as it was months ago. Not that Laura’d expected anything else, but you know.
It’s 17:74 GST on her omnitool, twenty-six minutes earlier than the time they had agreed to meet up, and SSV Thermopylae’s resident archaeologist was notorious for her tardiness (among other things), so imagine Laura’s surprise when she spots the trademark cotton-shirt-leather-pants combo, a fourth of an hour too early. It doesn’t stop her from approaching Dr Karnstein, though. She knows what they say, don’t look a gift varren in the mouth.
(It makes more sense though, when an unfamiliar woman takes a seat next to where the doctor is sitting.
Karnstein is also, aside from unpunctual, known for her relationships with women. Emphasis on relationships.
Even from where she’s standing, Laura can see the blonde tripping over herself to impress the good (?) doctor.
It’s a shame that she can only see the back of Karnstein’s head; whatever she’s saying to turn the other woman that shade of red is definitely worth lip reading.)
Laura’s maybe a meter or two away from the couple when she realizes that it’s probably rude to interrupt whatever…conversation it is that they’re having. It really is too early, and if someone disturbed her while she was flirting with a cute girl she’d be pretty pissed, so.
(Especially since she hasn’t flirted with a cute girl in a while, which sucks a lot. Work’s had her pretty busy lately, and it only doubled when this opportunity to out a corrupt Citadel politician basically showed itself to her.
Ugh. She really shouldn’t be thinking about this on the job.)
She sends Karnstein a message on her omnitool instead.
17:79 LH: Doctor Karnstein, I’ll be by the bar on the second floor.
The doctor, Laura can see, shifts in a way that must mean she’s seen the message. It wouldn’t be out of character—from what she’s heard, at least—for Karnstein to ignore it, but the reply is almost instantaneous.
17:80 MK: I’d rather you meet me here on the first floor, Lois Lane.
Suffice to say, Laura’s rather confused.
17:80 LH: Er, this is Laura Hollis, from ANN. We scheduled for a meeting a week ago?
Laura spots the doctor running a hand through her hair.
(Then she notices the blonde just staring at her, enraptured. Laura wonders if the doctor notices as well—she hopes not, because it’s a little embarrassing, to be honest. She feels for the girl.)
17:82 MK: Never mind. Just meet me here, Hollis.
Who Lois Lane is, Laura may never know. She’d ask, but she’d rather not get on the doctor’s bad side.
To the message, she doesn’t reply. She merely waits until the doctor dismisses her blonde companion, at which Laura strides quickly to the seat facing her back. Karnstein turns towards her as Laura sits.
“Wow,” the journalist says under her breath. The holovids didn’t do the doctor’s face justice, which is saying something, since even then she looked absolutely gorgeous. Now, it’s sort of just multiple levels of unfair.
But she’s not here to ogle embarrassingly at the doctor.
“Laura Hollis,” she says, polite nodding to the person in front of her. “From Alliance News Network.”
“I know.” Karnstein says it matter-of-factly, a hint of disdain present in her voice. “Let’s get straight to the point Hollis. What is it we’re here for?”
Rude, but not unexpected.
“You remember our correspondence? The initial message I sent to Commander Lawrence, at least?”
Laura activates her omnitool and opens the thread of messages for emphasis. The first two read:
To: Spectre Danny Lawrence, SSV Thermopylae
Subject: Blue SunsGood day, Commander Lawrence,
There have been, for want of a better word, rumors floating around of your clashing with the Blue Suns. I’ve come to believe that you have plans to nip their operations in the metaphorical bud, and if so, I may have information you would like to know.
As much as I trust ANN’s extranet security and mail encryption, this information is rather sensitive, and I feel it better if we meet personally to discuss this, if ever you are inclined to be privy to this information.
A reply within the next few days would be highly welcomed.
Sincerely,
Laura Hollis,
Alliance News NetworkTo: Laura Hollis, Alliance News Network
RE: Blue Suns
Miss Hollis,
We need all the help we can get, to be honest. Unfortunately, I’ll be a little busy for the next two weeks or so, so I won’t be able to meet up with you personally. I can send Dr Karnstein in lieu of myself, however. What you want in exchange for this information, you can discuss with her as well.
(I’ll have to apologize in advance, by the way. She’s a bit…intense. You’ll know what I mean.)
Sincerely,
Commander Danny Lawrence
Council Spectre
SSV Thermopylae
Karnstein makes a noncommittal noise, all the while looking uninterestedly at her nails. It’s as close to a yes as Laura will get, she’s starting to learn. It takes all of her willpower to refrain from rolling her eyes.
“Okay. Well, anyway over a week ago, I received an anonymous tip telling me that Joram Talid—the same anti-human politician running for Intendant, that one—was working with the Blue Suns. The money he’d get from shaking down human businesses and falsely charging human C-Sec officers, they said, he handed to the gang’s leaders, plus a few million credits from what I’m pretty sure he gets from embezzling government funds.”
The doctor—finally—looks at her, but there’s a ghost of a smile on her face for reasons unbeknownst to Laura; all it does, frankly, is infuriate her, but she decides to continue.
“Of course, I decided to do a bit of research to check if the tip was credible. I found out that there were glaring discrepancies in Talid’s budget reports—seriously, if he wasn’t so connected he would have been arrested by now—plus witness testimonies from various Blue Suns hubs, stating that they’ve seen them toting some state-of-the-art weapon and gear that as far as we know they shouldn’t be able to afford. Not definite proof, but enough to warrant an investigation, don’t you think?”
Karnstein’s giving her a full-blown smirk now, as if Laura was a child trying to impress a grown-up by doing something endearingly underwhelming.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head. “Tell me, Veronica Mars, what do you want in exchange for all this?”
“Who is—you know what, never mind. Most people—I’m pretty sure you’re aware—have an OSD in their office or at home, when they have files too risky to be lying around in an extranet accessible omnitool. I’m banking that Talid has his in his office, and that it has documents linking him to the disappearing funds and the Blue Suns. If you could get that OSD and bring it to me, I’ll have enough proof to out him and put him to justice.”
The doctor quirks an eyebrow.
“You and I both know that I could take the files to the Alliance or C-Sec headquarters directly and achieve the same results.”
“If Talid could be arrested on evidence alone, he’d have been investigated by now. The best way to keep the authorities from sweeping it under the rug is to stimulate public outcry.”
“You do have a point. But then, why would I give the files to you? Why not, say, Emily Wong, or Khalisah al-Jilani? The former has Citadel’s widest readership base, and the latter knows how to place icons in bad light, and I’m sure both are just as eager as you are to get their hands on such a juicy piece.”
Oh, if only Laura could wipe that smirk off that stupid, pretty face.
She knows that the doctor’s really just trying to get her riled up, but she can’t help but rise to the bait.
“I would like to remind you,” Laura says through a forced smile, “that I brought you the connection between Talid and the Blue Suns.”
“Wrong on that one cupcake, sorry,” Karnstein counters, faux apologetic. “You see, we were tipped off too. Around the same time as you were, apparently. Only, I traced the call and found the face behind the half-decent voice modulator. Ergo, I know a bit more than what you’ve just told me, meaning I am under no obligation to make a deal with you.”
Disappointment threatens to weigh her gut, its impending presence only adding to the frustration talking with this glorified jackass had caused. But she’s not going to give up without trying, at least.
“I—well. Well then. No chance that despite that you’ll let me head the story?”
The doctor wrinkles her nose.
“If it were up to me, I’d give it to someone else,” she drawls, as she nonchalantly types something on her omnitool. “Sadly, it’s Big Red’s call, so if I were you I’d expect a message from her in a day or so.”
That’s…that’s a lot better than Laura expected, honestly.
“Um, thank you, I guess? Can I leave?”
“I’m not stopping you,” Karnstein answers, taking her eyes off her interface for a few moments. “Piece of advice though, next time you meet with someone to exchange sensitive information, keep an eye out for eavesdroppers and surveillance equipment.”
Warmth blossoms underneath Laura’s skin; god she forgot to check, that was such a rookie mistake. Anyone could have heard her had it not been for the doctor.
Before Laura can reply with a mumbled thanks or a clumsy deflection—she hadn’t chosen at that point in time—the blonde from before appears from seemingly nowhere and stands to the doctor’s side. The stranger glances briefly at Laura, but after that, she bends down and captures the doctor’s lips with her own, as if the journalist had suddenly disappeared. It’s a surprise, mostly given how tame her earlier advances were.
Laura doesn’t even think of looking away until Blondie lets go of the doctor long enough for the latter to see the journalist staring. She sends Laura a smirk (which despite herself makes her mouth go dry), before rising to her feet and pulling the unknown woman to, presumably, a more private location.
When she finds herself alone, she lets out a sigh. At least someone’s getting laid.
Laura isn’t bitter at all, no way.
She pays the bartender for a glass of Asari Honey Mead before leaving the bar. There’s work to do, after all; from what Karnstein’s led her to believe, there’s a more-than-likely-chance that Commander Lawrence is going to let her in on this story. Laura has that, at least.
Whoop dee do.