The aging but giant warrior casually entered the doorway to Tombstone, slowly scanning the room. There were people that he had seen before and some that he hadn't. Still, he came alone this time. With a large contingent of his own kind guarding Tombstone, he didn't need them. Still, the disruptor in his holster, dag'tagh in a leather scabbard and just his all business appearance were intimidating. He was dressed in a warrior's robe with his armor barely visible .
"Blood wine," he asked to Grady.
"Ahead of you, Commander," he said as he handed him a mug as he awaited the warrior's approval, "it is good to see you again, Matok."
Matok tasted the wine. He stood as he let the taste settle into his palate.
"Young, sweet and warm," he said staring forward before turning to Grady, "just as good blood wine should be. Maj'qa!" With the mug in hand, he walked his way into the conference.
Seeing Victor Cross, he nodded to him and raised his mug. As he passed him in his walk about the area, he simply requested, "when this conference is finished, I would like to discuss re-starting our supply agreement. I realize I have not been regular with payments. That is my fault but that is for later."
For now, he just listened in with the newcomers about the room, seeing what information he could pick up on.
It was by accident Elyssa and Teresa had met. Teresa had tripped and would have hit the ground, had not Elyssa caught her.
"First step's a doozy."
"No kidding." Teresa said, regaining her footing. "Genine made me wear heels."
"Oh, you're an assistant?"
"Council Member. Freeport One is ruled by a council."
"Just me at Bethlehem." Elyssa took a deep breath. "I missed fresh air."
"New for me."
"Heh." Elyssa laced her fingers together behind her back. "You should visit a planet sometime. Fresh air is great for your health."
Shrugging, Teresa continued on, leaving Elyssa to sigh and follow the woman into the imoressive estate.
Both women knew no-one, except their new acquiantence, so they asked Grady for water and waited near a window, conversing about their resoective stations.
Natsumi Hideyoshi (The Order) | Alexis Hunter (Liberty Navy) |
Marvin lumbered out of the shuttle, walking up the pathway to the Doc's mansion, eyeing people talking, many of whom he'd never seen before.
In fact, he hasn't really met any of the other Zoner leaders in person before, only through communications links. He supposes closeness with ones' fellow kind is one thing people sacrifice when they choose to associate themselves with a group so thinly spread across such vast distances.
"No thanks..." he said, as he walked by a servant of the Docs', offering a drink. While he respected the working man, Marvin would never pay for servants himself.
Too much overhead.
He soon found a bench to sit himself on, near where everyone else was waiting for the meeting to start, and did so quite happily. He wasn't one for big parties outside of a club atmosphere and was resorting to his usual strategy when dealing with large groups of people he doesn't quite know...
A man with an average build, a dark brown beard, platinum-framed sunglasses, and a white suit adorned by gold frills and platinum rings strolls out of a private hangar. He wears ridiculously high, cork-soled platform shoes with polished brown leather straps. Dark chest hair pokes out of the top of his suit jacket; no shirt is visible underneath. He is accompanied by four scantily-clad young women, sporting little more than strategically-placed gold and silver jewelry. One of them holds a large umbrella over his head as he walks, while another spreads rose petals from a silver basin in his path. The third waves a large fan of brightly colored feathers towards the man, while the fourth carries a large, patent-leather bag with embedded diamonds, slung across her left shoulder and carrying a boom box blasting disco music on the right, following the group closely.
As the entourage enters the house, they take their place in the back of the room where the others are gathered. As the man takes his seat, he removes his sunglasses and places them in a pocket hidden in his jacket. From the same pocket, he produces a simple black pen and a pad of notebook paper. The women with the umbrella and the fan continue their work as he takes his seat, while the one with the rose petals sits on his left knee. The woman with the boom box turns it off and places it on the ground. She also hoists the large bag off and sets it down at his feet and lies there, gazing around the room attentively.
Jonah Robinson looks up at the assembly and waits in silence.
Next delegation to come was of the Porto Novo. Two people in simmiliar, silver coloured uniforms of this respective Freeport security entered estate. Martina Esteban, aged 28 was ussualy quiet person. She's administrator and chief of security at once due to her Corsair and Freelancer past. As strange it was for person like her to administrate quiet base in Omega-50 more is known about her deputy assistant who arrived alongside. Jake Tolwyn, mercenary seeking earlier 'retirement' on backdoor of Omegas found his current employment at Porto Novo appropriate.
Esteban was not known to be much of the people's person. While carefuly observing events that might affect her or Porto Novo, she always was in the shadow which resulted in relative calm unlike other freeports as neighbouring Boa Vista and Coalition's presence. Finding quiet spot she continued discussion with Tolwyn on topics currently out of reach for rest of delegations ears.
Proximity of Gran Canaria, idea of ressurecting spirit of Zoner Alliance she has seen falling apart and Doc Holliday's reputation were reasons enough for Martina to take break from her shady deals and explorations of space. Knowing she most likely has been part of Zoner community least time from all of the gathered she decides to first listen to what rest will have to say.
That being sitting in the high chair. He hadn't thought much of the last time a Port had been placed in his care. Sure that one had been more burning than station and the flavor of the week was seeing who could add a few more windows to it. But between the Bounty Hunters Guild trying to declare war on all and sundry, the Corsairs kicking up a storm and the Omicroners trying to burn what they hadn't blown up everything had turned out pretty ok.
So what had he done to deserve this?
Shuffling cards in Wellgood's and pushing the occasional delivery to see if he remembered how to fly a good spell with his feet kicked up made.
The Taxi in which he rode bustled about a final bend, bringing the general environs of the estate into view. Hey, not every shmuck is going to be flying into the private pad via their luxury whatsit. Some fellows hop a shuttle and take a taxi. A taxi in which they smoke.
Being volentold to represent the wary interests of Nine to the good people of who knows where or who didn't strike as the optimal configuration to his day planner. But. Still. A few days out of the bowels of Nine and into some sunshine might do him some good. Skulking about following the Volkhan business couldn't be a top sign of pristine mental health.
Timothy Rhyme bequeathed the gate guard with his most charming smile. One which seemed to do little to deflect the ire, and subsequent exhausting of the cigarette he was sporting, of the guard whom inspected her person. But the paperwork cleared and in he strolled, looking about for any old faces he might recognize.
[color=#66FF99]It was not the first time for Lethis Khazar to send his friend and business partner, Andrew Allerton, to attend to meetings and deal with any public relations related to the JZ group, but it was in fact the first time Andrew had been sent to Gran Canaria.
Liberty born, tall, average built and in his late thirties, Andrew Allerton was probably not the best looking man, his rather flat facial features and boxy, strong jawline did not possibly go well with his perhaps even messy, pure black hair and sideburns, yet he still held a certain aura of him, marking him as the no-nonsense type of man.
Even as he stepped out of the shuttle, that had delivered him from Lanzarote, he already turned a few heads as he walked on by along with the other passengers. His attire was also rather odd for someone of his status, a black uniform, fitted with deep red undersuit, which was quite easy to note, especially since the man did not seem to have any intention to actually zip up the former, his hands hidden by pure white gloves as one of them slipped into his jacket's inner pocket to fetch a simple looking pair of orange tinted sunshades, soon finding themselves resting on his strong looking nose bridge.
But even if man of his type could stop for a moment and silently enjoy the views of Gran Canaria, Andrew seemed not to have any intention on doing so and, after one of his gloved hands slipping back the sleeve of his right hand to reveal a simple looking wristwatch, he simply continued on to the public station to find transport to lead him to the summit. Quiet, straight to the point and still somehow retaining his class, one could see why Andrew Allerton was picked to represent his group at the summit.
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Doc made his way to the podium which replace the head chair at the round table. He exchanged hand shakes, greetings and a few quips on his way. It appeared that all delegates were present. He stood at the podium in his robes and waited for the others to settle.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Tombstone and thank you for coming as requested," he began, "I know many of you came a very long way to get here. Mrs. Holliday will bring in some food in just a few minutes."
He then acknowledged each delegate, announcing their name and who they represented. He also re-affirmed his own position, "While I do have concerns and opinions, I will chair the conference itself. Ambassador Tritan will represent TAZ. I have several issues before me and will bring them up in no particular order. I would, however, like to leave the issue of a sort of council for last since other issues will no doubt dictate it's urgency. Also, any other issues I do not mention can also be brought up but do keep things civil.
If you need a drink, Grady will assist you."
He took a breath, "With all that, let us begin."
He looked at a list he had made before him:
-Gallia
-The Security of Omicron 74
-A Zoner council that has been mentioned
-Omega 49
-Freeport 1, Sprague and the Bretonia/Corsair conflict in the system
-Sirius wide Zoner security matters
-Getting to know new Zoner groups and how to incorporate them to our community
"Hm," he thought a moment before turning to Teresa Whithall, "I think we'll start with Freeport 1 since I know that Bretonia is trying to colonize Sprague, imposed a no-fly zone and the Corsairs have been harassing them. What more can you tell us?"
Teresa, looks up, then stands.
"It's no picnic. Corsairs and Bretonians trading fore a few dozen kilos awsy isn't helping us maintain nuetrality. We've had to tell multiple parties to move warships od gunboat and greater away, sometimes using force." She takes a drink of her water. "Qhile the colonization itself has not affected Freeport One directly, inderectly, the danger of a fight near One has risen. Which is no fun for any of us." She sighs. "In all, the situation is essentially a powder keg. Just takes one idiot..." She scowls. "Not to mention the independant pirate gangs using One bring the ire of both Bretonia and Rheinland. The fuseline is set...all it needs is a spark."
Finished, Teresa sits, sighing.
Natsumi Hideyoshi (The Order) | Alexis Hunter (Liberty Navy) |
Matok rose and turned to Miss Whitehall, "While I am officially here for Freeport 6, there are several of my kind on Freeport 1 so I hear the reports in daily transmissions from them. I have seen some footage of the Corsairs attacking around Sprague as the I.K.S. Khaless stumbled upon them. But......since everyone wants us all to mind our own business, they returned to base."