Planet New Paris is considered the jewel of Gallic space, but the inhabitants of Planet Orleans believe otherwise - and how not to agree, flying over wild grassy heaths, old mountain ranges and numerous settlements, harmoniously becoming part of the environment, as if continuing it, rather than displacing it as it happens on the more pompous New Paris.

Exactly here, on Planet Orleans, one of the Maréchals of the Gallic Union, Antonin de Lusignan, had made his fortress-residence, and that was where the shuttle with the important guest on board was headed, though she could quite rightly consider herself a prisoner.

The fortress was impressive in its size: in fact, it was a small military city, with its own spaceport, capable of receiving a ship up to the size of a passenger liner, or a Triumph-class destroyer, equipped to fly in the atmosphere. There were ground-to-air batteries around the perimeter of the base and some more impressive-sized ground-to-space batteries, apparently there was also a shield protecting against attacks with energy and kinetic weapons, but it was now turned off to save energy and avoid radiation exposure from the operation of the generator.

The shuttle, with the noise of its engines, was coming in for a landing - one of the pads was vacant, awaiting arrival. There, too, was the armed convoy, gleaming white armor with black inserts, somewhere covered with the gold and blue lines typical of Union troopers. In their hands were the latest model energy rifles, and judging by the bluish glow of the indicator, they were in paralysis mode: when energy causes a health-safe brief short circuit, putting the target, whether a living being or a robot, in a paralysis-like state. If the indicator were red, the stream of energy spewed by the rifles would destroy the target, roasting it alive.

The squad of five troopers was led by an officer from the Security Bureau - easily recognizable by the white tunic of their otherwise black uniforms. The shuttle ramp slowly lowered, and the guest, accompanied by her escort, was led out of the shuttle.

With a nod to the convoy, the Bureau officer stepped closer. His almost platinum hair was neatly, uniformly styled, and his green eyes looked at the woman with indifference,

"Welcome to Orleans, Madame de Lorraine," said him with voice the most ordinary - slightly high pitched, but in moderation. "The Maréchal has been expecting you, we will escort you to him." - It was not a question or a suggestion, just a statement of fact.

Changing convoys from the shuttle, the troopers took Juliette around and led her to a nearby railroad train station running between the Citadel, the largest building of the place, and remote points in the fortress like this one. As they passed the open training grounds, everyone could see the trainers mercilessly harassing the recruits who came from all over the system and even neighboring Champagne - it also served as a training camp for ordinary military and regular naval personnel, but not for officers or members of the Security Bureau, though they were present.


Soon, they arrived at the station inside the Citadel, and under the same escort de Lorraine was escorted to her quarters: a spacious room overlooking a small lake, with glass that could withstand a grenade blast. A simple but comfortable bed, a desk with access to NeuralNet only by the approval of the fortress commandant or any of his aides, a closet and several floor flowers, representatives of the local flora.

"Get some rest. In the evening you will meet the Maréchal." said the Bureau officer before locking her in her room.

A few hours later, the flaps of the door parted quietly to the sides, letting in the same familiar officer. He looked at the woman and, without a smile on his face, said:

"Follow me, you are expected." and after waiting for the woman to rise, he led her out of the room. The same convoy of four soldiers in identical, fully encased armour, and rifles in stun mode in their hands. Another reminder and show of force from the Defense Authority.

After traversing several monotonous corridors and taking the lift higher up, they soon reached the wide wooden doors. Unlike many others - these opened the old-fashioned way. With a sign ordering them to stop, the officer stepped inside. A muffled voice came from inside, and he soon looked out of the door, only to say, "Come in".

Once inside, de Lorraine found herself in a spacious room, decorated in warm colours with touches of green and black - Lusignan must have liked comfort if he could afford it on a military base. At a wide T-shaped wooden desk sat the owner of the office himself, on the left side was a long comfortable sofa, and on the right were a row of chairs. The arrangement was incomprehensible to the uninitiated in his private life, but the chairs were usually occupied by ordinary subordinates, and the sofa by those whom he favoured, lavished attention on, and sometimes warmed on lonely nights.

"Have a seat," he said in a pleasant baritone, pointing to the sofa. "We have much to discuss now that fate has put you in my hands, Juliette."

"No. They have no reason to know what you really are, that knowledge is only available to me and the Security Bureau management," Lusignan replied calmly, unlocking his computer with a couple of movements. "And these guys aren't the chatty, loyal people to me. So your secret remains in the possession of very few, but that is not the reason for your presence here, or rather, not the main reason."

"First of all, you are well aware of what happened in Lorraine, in your homeland. The Maquis did their best, teaming up with the Outcasts and the rest of the rabble. Now it is no longer a matter of time before the mirror system is restored, but a test for our industry." The man turned the monitor towards her, showing an image from the orbiting spy satellites: the wreckage of ships, both Gallic and Sirius, slowly flew a decent distance from the camera, showing an almost-something rubbish ring around Planet Metz. The wreckage of the orbital mirrors was particularly prominent amongst all this debris, glinting off the concentrator lenses. "However, all of this could have been avoided if we had more power. That is the reason - recruitment."

It was a step on thin ice, the line between what was 'For Good' and treachery, but Lusignan weighed all the risks, and saw his line as the only true one: Gallia must be strong, it must become even stronger than it had ever been - united, indestructible, undefeatable.

"While the Security Bureau, as well as the other branches of National Intelligence, are doing their best to exterminate the rebels, both Maquis and Royalist, it is not enough. And you, despite the peculiarities of your condition, continue to be you, you have not become what I had to contend with when the aliens appeared in Brittany, almost two years ago." the man looked de Lorraine in the eyes, seeing no hint of the almost neon violet light there, which he will long remember with a touch of fear and dread. "So I will be brief, are you prepared to become in the service of the Gallic Union as one of its intelligence agents. Reporting to me personally, bypassing any buffers. To be able to recruit and use whatever resources are available to achieve my objectives?"

"To expect understanding from a mind so distinct from our own is foolish. Trying to blackmail, threaten or otherwise force obedience is shortsighted. Learning is what I believe is the right path." he began, after a brief lull. "You are closer to them than I am, and perhaps if I understood them better I would consider getting closer to them, but no, certainly not now. We must prove to each other what we are worth, what can be expected of us; we must also understand each other, and you, and your kind, can be the bridge between us."

"Alas, but I speak only on behalf of myself, and those who are loyal to me personally. Therefore, what happens here is a secret that no one outside these walls will know" said Lusignan, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in his black leather armchair. "And yes, you heard right: but I don't care about Sirius, the Order or the others. They are far away, always have been and always will be. Perhaps one day, we'll even cut off contact with them, and go into isolation, because that's what we've become accustomed to over centuries of this."

"While I appreciate your offer to help, I'd rather we handle this on our own, it will prove to many that we are still a mighty nation and not a collection of collaborators huddled in a corner of 'known' space" said Lusignan, not really picking his words. Then, he simply looked at de Lorraine as if waiting for something to happen.

"You remind me of my first commander when I first started in the Navy," Antonin smiled. "Your first assignment: reconnaissance of the situation with our allies."

"Although modern Gallia is more open to diplomacy, there is very little trust in us, even from our allies." he began, opening a previously prepared document and turning the computer monitor towards the woman "You are well aware of this trio: the Order, the Core and Auxo. They are all neutral with us and have signed the Algiers Agreement, which forces them to accept neutrality towards each other within Gallia. After all, we are not Sirius, where they can do as they please."

"We have little data on the former and the latter, but the latter have always been a mystery to us. The Cult of Technology became an ally of Enclave, and only later, with the rise of the Union, of all Gallia. Nevertheless, we know very little about them, and that needs to change. I want to know if they are hiding something from us, or if they are being honest with us about what we need to know. Their dirty laundry does not interest us as long as it does not concern Gallia. I hope the assignment is clear?"