Metz-Nord Patrotte, Planet Metz, Lorraine System. 12th March 827 AS/743 AGS, 17:55 local time.
Adaptation to a new post-war reality was hard. Years of constant fighting and work made Miroslav forget how to be a proper Gaul. How to be classy and elegant. He had only a few days to adapt. After he got his first ever official 'day-off' after almost five years of front-line warfare and supply runs, both for Conseil and for new government, he had a lot things to do. Buy a proper suit, rent a luxury hovercar, organize the date, get a haircut and finally - shave. He was so out of touch with all the new trends that he felt almost ashamed of his being while doing all these trivial tasks. So many things have changed in Gallia. It was so much easier several years ago when he was working a regular corporate job on a Quillan.
And despite all the planning, all the precautions and all the preparations - it was ruined.
Ruined by a some cheeky Kusarian and his rusty ugly freighter who alerted whole spaceport of Metz-Nord Patrotte and it was locked out by port security.
Miroslav didn't knew exactly what happened there. Did he tried to smuggle something to Metz? Why and what? Weapons of mass destruction, drugs, alien artifacts? All the logical and objective reasoning behind this was simply absent. But thinking about this helped to pass the time. Three whole hours of waiting.
Brand-new performance luxury hovercar Divo La Voiture Noire 22, black as tar and elegant as swan, was parked on a VIP place just near the main entrance. Weather was chilly and foggy but somewhat comfortable. Light of twin suns on the skies gently illuminated the busy spaceport and it's esoteric shapes. Miroslav waited with his hands crossed and leaning on the car. With a help of a grumpy old lady in a atelier, usually harsh and abrasive Miroslav now looked fabulous. Long stylish black leather coat, warm and cozy winter fedora and fingertip-less gloves, he looked like a very suave Corsican waiting for his godfather. And he was waiting for one. Well, except for the '-father' part.
Miroslav was almost mad at the security. Not because he was forced to wait but because she was. It was surreal for him. He was ready to call the security chief of this place and he was ready to annihilate him with his authority but regular security outside the main gate said that it was, indeed, serious. He didn't trusted them but decided not to complicate things more. And he waited.
Metz high orbit, Planet Metz, Lorraine System. 12th March 827 AS/743 AGS, 18:15 local time.Niort was among the numerous ships caught in the lockdown in the high orbit of Metz - her mooring permission was suddenyl withdrawn "until further notice", and the vessel was left hanging in the atmosphere right above Metz-Nord.
The communication officer have been engaged in heated discussion with one of the flight control operators for the last fifteen minutes and would likely have been engaged in it for the foreseeable future - neither of the sides of the discussion could really back down under their circumstances: FCO followed the imposed security protocols and CO of Niort had their orders. Celeste was there, at the bridge, watching the Landscape of Metz and, apparently, lost in thought.
It was way too long since the crimson-eyed maiden visited her homeworld, and it did not give her a warm welcome.
At least, the first impression matched that criteria.
Ludenberg exhaled and approached Niort communication officer, gave her a cold glance, followed by a question. "What is the matter of delay?"
The officer listened to the answer from the dispatch and turned to Celestia. "The port is under lockdown, ma'am. Security concerns. No details are provided at this point, but all mooring requests are denied indefinitely. I will keep you updated as the situation develops."
A few hours have passed before the spaceport security have finally managed to deal with the reason of the lockdown and extented security measures have been lifted. Immediately, Niort have sent down a shuttle that landed as close as possible to Gobineau, further delay was most certainly unacceptable. Celeste, in her usual gothic attire, approached Miroslav, speaking in a calm tone. "They certainly took their sweet time getting through this routine."
Peace, being the distant dream it is, comes inevitably, and goes hand in hand with justice.
Cursed be the war.
Miroslav was on a high alert. He knew that lockdown was lifted up, he was one of the first people to get information about that – being officer in such prestigious force as Marine Nationale helped but not enough. And he gazed the skies. And after some time of gazing into the bright skies, he saw the silhouette of a tiny shuttle in the silver-white mist. Tiny shuttle which approached his position surprisingly quick. That could mean only one thing – he should prepare for a meeting.
Air under the shuttle blew all over Miroslav, slightly messing up the carefully smoothed attire but he stood valiantly and watched as female figure approached him. Celeste in real life was a little bit higher than he imagined from after he saw her on a video-feed.
“Bonsoir, mademoiselle Celeste. And yes, indeed, I swear - something or someone tries to ruin this day. But, no worries, I hope that only thing is lost is bit of our precious time and I hope we still do have that.“
Miroslavs speech was energetic and slightly bombastic, but this is probably from all the excitement he currently experiences. This is his first proper ''date'' with a real lady in years, after all.
He turned around to his hovercar and with a gentle touch of a palm the “switchblade” door moved up, revealing the luxurious and comfortable leather neomodern interior. And this was passenger side. Miroslav stepped to the side and with a elegant gesture of invitation, he all of the sudden softly says.
“And you look absolutely gorgerous today, Celeste, as always. I hope waiting hasn't spoiled all the expectations from this meeting.”
"Bonsoir, messier de Gobineau. Forgive me my initial lack of manners - frustation of the delay took over me for a moment. How improper of me to fall down to such lowly expression of emotions."
Celeste bowed in elegant apologetic gesture and, following the invitation, adjusts her skirt and steps into the shuttle, admiring the view of the interiors, a rare combination of strict luxury and comfort. Nothing less was expected from the arrangements done by the Gallic officer expecting a special guest to pay them a visit. Ludenberg smiled at Miroslav's compliment.
"As much may be said about you - you are looking absolutely splendid. Do not worry, waiting have not affected my expectations at all - we happen to be confined to external conditions we can in no way affect."
Peace, being the distant dream it is, comes inevitably, and goes hand in hand with justice.
Cursed be the war.
This big and robust man was almost blushing from that compliment, like a teenager. He hasn't heard words such like that for a very long time. But he didn't show any sign of weakness. With a hearty, elegant and short laugh, Miroslav said.
“Ah, merci beacoup, thank you, I am out of wearing-fabulous-dress practice but I am doing my best.“
With these words, he slowly closed the door after Celeste was comfortably in her seat, walked around hovercar and dexterously climbed in himself. Miroslav still wasn't very proficient in a hovercar driving, it was almost like a Lynx-class fighter but not quite the same. So, he took it slow and easy. Starting the engine, making sure everything is fine and then, finally, very gentle take-off. More buttons pushing to access the geolocation and when the course was set the mighty hovercar quickly gained up the speed and joined the lazy traffic on a road. While all this was happening, Miroslav spoke.
"Times are quite turbulent here. I never visited Metz before, well, how our officials now say, 'Sirian Incident', but whole Gallia is still trying to understand, what happened to it. I hope nothing has happened on your way here? Not counting that small episode from our spaceport security.”