"Just keep doing what you did during the few weeks I left for Liberty. Assign paperwork to somebody else, don't we have money for an accountant anymore or what?" Marco sounded a sigh as his cousin Enzo would only reply with hesitant words about taking the lead of the business that not only fed the two of them, but the other nine members in the family. He didn't feel particularly nervous, but neither overly excited ever since Angela finally offered the chance to enlighten himself about the apparently shady matters that surrounded Gabriella Casta and those who populated the space beyond what humankind dubbed as 'Omicron 90'.
The incoming adventure and his relaxed attitude didn't stop him from sharing a copious dinner with his cousin while they would also discuss not only the future of the Santoro's famiglia business in alien organisms harvesting within Omicron Beta, but also managing to draw topics relevant to the recent tensions between Maltese people. Although he had understood that Enzo wouldn't bring an interesting conversation regarding politics, it still served Marco to convince himself about his own speech during the call for voting issued by the current administrator of the 101st. It was the time to have that 'grumpy blonde' pushed out of the game board... Or die trying.
And the only obstacle to complete his endeavor were the 'spirits', 'Slomon K'hara' or as he simply named them, along many other people, 'Nomads'. Now all he had to do was waiting for Angela's call.
It's all arranged, get ready to depart in four hours. Now a few things you need to be aware of. You're going to a place that was never made for humans to set a foot in, you'll find no amenities nor any support for a human life there whatsoever. Most obvious ones are the lack of artificial gravity and no air to breathe. A gun will do you no good either. Instead take strong meds to shut off headache - you'll thank me later. And let's hope you got a strong vestibular system, cause... well, you'll see for yourself anyway.
Several hours since her last transmission and after asking Enzo to provide him with the necessary material for his journey, Marco moved his Rapier fighter close to one of the 'floating graves' near the jumphole into Omicron 90, those combat ships which had served for years as the hammer of the Nation for the pilots now resting in their cockpits. Marco frowned behind his helmet, now curiously wondering about the kind of 'wonders' or 'horrors' that Angela would guide him through once they would jump to the other side of the wormhole.
"Pressurized jumpsuit, check. Rebreather, check. Extra shots of Cardamine, check. Headache pills, check. Certainly, the poor Gabriella must be having a hell of fun." He spoke to himself, releasing a soft chuckle afterwards.
But even if it may have felt hurtful for his own pride and after having acknowledged that Cardamine was not the key to achieve immortality -that at least he would be aware of-, Marco's sense of reasoning showed up in time to shake his apparent heroic intentions to rescue Gabriella Casta off his head.
He also knew that it wasn't exactly about Gabriella only, but also a very first step on the attainment of a certain objective typed down in the most recondite corner of his agenda. However, and this is where the sense of reasoning enlightened him, neither Angela nor her masters the Slomon K'Hara could find a place in his scheme.
Letting a rather content sigh out, he kicked his Rapier's cruise engine mode at full power and turned around, leaving the Siniestra cloud behind him and drawing a grin under his helmet at the bright sight of planet Malta.
"Just reconsidered it, Angela. They can have as much fun as they wish Gab. Pretty sure she deserves it, after all. Ciao." He spoke over a voice message that he sent to 'missus Corino' afterwards.