In the cold infinite corridor of Morr VII, the Guild controllers were deployed like an ant swarm to the point of disturbance. An alarm had been ringing for a full minute, and eighteen members of the controller unit C3 were rushing to the freight zone, Victoria.
Vivid red light and high temperature were all that could be felt and sensed by the stressed controllers. They were all well paid by the Guild, but not well enough for what they would endure next. Every controller was wearing a grey uniform with high-necked collars and a pair of black boots, but that was not the case for Jacob Landsvit. After all, he was the chief of the unit C3. His short uniform and boots were made of immaculate white.
“Where the hell did Nestor and Virgo go?!” the old, bald chief cried as the other members of the unit lined up before the cargo area gate.
“The gate won’t answer the opening command; we need to force it, Chief Jacob,” said Lexe Kardla, one controller.
Everyone called him by his first name; old Jacob was close to his men.
“1, 2, 3!” yelled two bulky controllers as they forced the door to open.
Fire was spreading all over the freight area, five vessels burning down around them.
“Let’s secure the area! Quick!” commanded the chief.
The controllers sped to the water-spreading tools to extinguish the fire.
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After twelve minutes of effort, they finally managed to stop it.
“One ship is missing—the one that alerts us of unauthorised departures. But who took it, and how did he manage to open the gate?” the chief asked himself out loud.
Sweat ran down his bald face; troubles were ashore.
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In the private quarter of Leon Tor, the high-controller of the C area ordered Jacob Landsvit to stand with both hands behind his back.
“So, what was all this remue-ménage in C3? Nothing serious, I hope,” he asked slowly with a weight on every word pronounced.
“An accident, your Highness: five vessels are destroyed, and one is missing. Someone has run off from the Heighliner without any prior permission–potentially with the belongings of clients from the sector C.”
The face of the high-controller darkened.
“'Someone,' that’s all, Jacob?” Slow words again, with a tone of perfidy.
“Two of the controllers are missing: Virgo and Nestor.”
“An oddity!” the high-controller responded immediately with a sudden rushed tone.
“We have found no trace of the fugitive or his motive.”
The high-controller walked slowly toward the door while speaking in a low tone. “It was your sector–your responsibilities–and you know the cost. At the Navigator Guild, we are expected to furnish the maximum level of safety for our passengers and their possessions.” He closed the door and approached Jacob.
I’m old, I already make a lot of mistakes, but this is starting to show, think Jacob.
Leon fixed his eyes with a hard gaze. “We cannot tolerate such events to happen, especially when it’s related to a major house.”
He placed his hand on the neck of his subordinate, and began to squeeze his leather-gloved hand.
Jacob was suffocating and could hardly get a word out of his mouth, “I didn’t ... know House Major affairs were in Victoria.”
The bald man dropped to the floor, cold and pale.
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Leon Tor [https://res.cloudinary.com/dxtl7maxi/image/upload/v1661078194/Art/Pourpre%20Conspirary/leon-tor-avrip-and-the-machine.png]
High Controller Leon Tor - Avrip & The Machine