Discovery Gaming Community

A momentary pop of space happened somewhere within the system of Provence. As if from nothing a Gallic shuttle flared it's engines and burned towards Cannes. It had appeared astronomically below the navigational plane, somewhere nearby the moon known as Cavallion. The shuttle briefly entered its limited cruise towards the barren moon until the gravity of it and its parent planet's gravity took hold.

The shuttle used the gravitational forces to fling itself towards the orbiting station. Even with the generally standard flight maneuver, it would take them another thirty minutes before they reached the station itself. Cannes was a work of art which displayed more of its features they closer they got. Wide rings encircled a central spire, the designs done for cosmetic effect. This was a luxury station. A pleasure paradise. There was no need for brute utilitarian designs or drab sidings. It was a statement for the finer things and the nobility of Gallia ate such up with gusto.

The station sent a hailing request which the pilot answered and requested docking. It was granted after a few further exchanges. They were marked down under the purpose of "business". Guiding lights flickered and danced as they lead them into the general docking bays. Looking out, one noted how even the bay was dressed up to look elegant.

After touchdown, a passenger of the shuttle leaned into the cockpit section and instructed the pilot to refuel the ship and keep things warm. Returning to the spartan cargo section that had a rack of seats with backs to the side of the hull, the only other figure with them was rising from his seat. The first passenger, a man, briefly regarded the figured who was clad in a drab robe of blue that covered the entire body. A large hood was pulled over and when they moved, simple fitted slippers and baggy cloth trousers were revealed. It was a tactic used by low nobility and aristocracy in a vain attempt to mask their members from public eye when moving through public spaces. The irony of the fad was that such garb often caught the attention of passerbys anyways. It resulted in a good number of muggings on various planets.

The hatch opened and he ushered the shrouded figure out. As they took a few steps an usher approached to subtlety question them while masked as offering services. The man refused any luxury services and instead requested an escort to the agreed meeting location. Cheated from being able to sell their services, the usher begrudgingly showed them the way to the spot and took a modest fee as payment before scurrying off.

The man felt ill at ease and passed glances at his companion occasionally. Shrouded, the figure was taller than he but had a slight hunch. They almost looked like a savant, or an accompanying scribe. They hadn't spoken a word since landing.

Shaking off his nerves he opened a door to let the two of them in, spying the contact and his four guards within. He gently closed the door and moved to approach the other party.

He held a smile, the other figure following behind closely. He decided to speak first. "Marechal de Lusignan?" If the dark tone of his skin didn't give it away, his accent was distinctly of the people of Planet Nevers.

"That would be me." The dark skinned man confirmed, a light formal bow produced afterwards. Unlike his companion, he was dressed in an pastel orange dress shirt and blue pants-vest combo, the colors of the system of Burgundy, which was ironic within itself. His long braided hair was pulled back and tied off in a bundled pony tail. "This is my aide." A side wave to the tall cowled figure was given. The figure didn't react. To perhaps excuse such Darche spoke up again. "I am surprised you wished to speak to us yourselves. Pollux Networks is humbled by such a fact. Shall we get to it?"

"Entirely depends on you, I feel." Darche replied, smiling. He glanced around and motioned to a setting of couches he noticed. If Marechal agreed to the idea, Darche would move to take a seat. The companion always stood nearby and close. "I believe my request was rather straight forward. You are able to allow such, no?" He questioned, then added after a thought, "And were you able to contact the Amiral to confirm our allowances?"

In person, Darche was clearly of some form of military background from how he carried himself. If one knew it, he also had the tell tale signs of a fighter pilot by how he moved his head around for confirmations or denials, as larger and more distinct motions of the head were needed when wearing a helmet. However this man clearly had been retired or out of service for a number of years, the war exhaustion gone and a much more relaxed man had taken his place. That was, at least, the impression he was trying to give off. As before, the companion remained unreadable.

On hearing that he had gotten word from Vaillant gave visible relief. However as Antonin went on, Darche frowned. "It seems he has not told you everything if you must ask those types of questions." He sighed out. A slight adjustment in the couch. "For me to answer those questions I need you to confirm if you are legally able to grant our requests. I mean no disrespect, but this detail can not be overlooked for us to move forward."

It had to be a trap, Darche considered. But it was one he willingly put himself into as a show of good faith. However he could not get over the feeling this would all end poorly for him. In his indecision, which only lasted perhaps a couple seconds, he glanced towards the cowled figure. After another moment or two, Darche seemed to visibly calm. The cowled figure didn't speak or make any gesture. It is possible that the two had some informal physical method of communication. Micro-ticks to signal certain phrases. Or even more likely hidden communicators which were used by tapping out words.

This trail of logic put a lot of importance on a man who was supposed to simply be an aide. Maybe Darche just found the look time enough to think, a stalling tactic. That was more likely. Darche turned to look back at the Gallic Official before him. "You said 'our vessels', indicating you know we have multiple in our capacity to use. Now, being straight forward, we have four vessels of Naval make, though two of them were fitted for police duties. All old models from the Kingdom days. Two Lynxes and a Cougar."

He didn't break stride, moving onto the next topic almost instantly. "The nature of our network and company is outwardly in the industry of information and obtaining it. However, we mainly focus on the development of-" A pause, either for effect or a genuine hesitation. "Xenology. The field is often times scowled upon, mainly by Sirians, which is why we do not often publicize that aspect of our services." He explained. He held a sheepish smile at this point, knowing full well that such research was almost always regulated.

"Our intentions would not be the destabilization of the Union, nor any such notion. No, in effect we simply wish to come home and continue our work. The kicker is the work requested of us would cause discord. Work that your people requested, should you wish us be thorough. Such is the need for safe harbour and the ability to continue our work where those exposed can not act against us." Darche explained.