Nadeau re-emerges onto the monitor, appearing a trifle flustered.
“Gadzooks! Humanoid felines, you state?”
“Friend, I would offer you a tissue, but I appear to have used them all… for ah…”*A notable zipping sound*“…A purpose perhaps antithetical to your desire to press them to your face. Worry not, I will be certain to send you a refreshed box, on the double, that is, if this irksome signal triangulator functions appropriately…”
“…Be assuaged, my heart throbs openly for you. However, a slight query jumps into the brain…”
“…I was not aware that the Father House had executed any research into such, ah, tomfoolery, if you excuse a man of the odd cattitude…”
“…So, pray inform me – was your research state sponsored or privately initiated, by, say, the GRN perhaps?”
“I am so fond of keeping track of super soldier research, if only for frivolous, self-centred reasonings far detached from their original intents".
A playful smile tracks across his features.
"Oh, my fellow felon, you clearly misunderstand the nature of my query in your utterances - the predicament is not one personal desire - all men may find themselves bound with the irk of a constrictive social chain, but rather occupational. Can I pliably place your amorality as paramount?"
"…Let me decant to you a hypothetical scenario; you are merrily holding afternoon tea with some abominable altercation of the Daam'K'Vosh's nascent creativity, when an egotistical Order Admiral, a Canaria News Network Film Crew, and a Mercenary with a minimalistic moral grip on the stick simultaneously approach you, somehow mistaking you for the Prince of Burgundy."
"How does a gentleman - how would you - respond when confronted with such ghastly plebeians, remembering that you are presently being filmed?"
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)
Such hypothetical scenario is in fact at a level of deepness i can get..Well sir as fine as it sounds in my ears*Pierre de Nuit, le prince de Burgundy*is more of fantasy side.But i will be glady to answer, well such thing are not as coomn , and as comming from such intelligente et pourtant si rêveur is as well not common..
Now my behavoir as fine as it is a gentelman serving his tea must allways be wecoming to each and every, regarding it belongs thus its spiritaul and moral interests. Considering a fine Order Admiral and a fine anchor are there will be glady to invite them and calm the spirts between the superior race and as well let's not forget the mercenary...As slow-mined as he may be ...Still a human being need to recompensated fro just the trip he had to find his bounty . A small , but significant amount of Credits and Au Revoir will be as mannerd as it can be. Now the Iluminated one ...As war as my knowledge goes , not a tea fan..But we can work something out.
While still haveing a grate time enjoing my tea, i think the Anchor will be asking me , Royal needs and hy not something from private life. As the situation escalates , i will try to keep my lie as Royal and Ofiicail as it can be.Thus i will be avoiding camers, not to let myself be deconspierd..
After sloing the New interest i will be moving toward the Order Admiral , and as well keeping a Royal aura around me ...Same does for him, treating him like my brother and solving any needs and anytime.And any Royal face time is pressing on my shoulders and non needs to be wasted into the void.After soling all the problems a Prince can confrunt in a day..i will gone back to be a normal me and escaped from the Fake Royality aura i placed above my head.From there nothing needs to be said..All will go by its meeing..
" Couldn't have done better myself! Although an over-concerning dotage over one's tea could be interpreted as a misdirected fallacy, we may ignore such for the shorter term."
"Whilst it is quaint to riposte to elitist, Gallic linguistics with common Bretonian doggerel, I remain slightly affeared for your ability to communicate with the Sirian pestilence – your dialogue with myself remains ever sublime whilst conversing in the mother tongue, do not harry yourself.
However, a lamentable quantity of our operations occur within the Sirian zones, and thus require a sirian outlook. Butcher the tongue of a Neanderthal so openly, and he may take injury from it and perchance to selectively strike you with his club, If you appreciate the metaphor.”
“Nuit, you are a person of prospects, and are thus hired on a temporary, experimental basis, to see how you corroborate within he fraternity proper. Take the pleasure of moving whichever assets you see fit to Freeport 10-cum-Commonport 2, and I will grace you with my company.”
“…But, ah, in the future ami, do stick to French.”
"I will be contacting you over S.K.I3.P.E. dialogue channels over the possibility of a certain... test... to occur within these twenty four hours. A proof of purchase, as it were".
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)
~ TRANSMISSION RECEIVED ~
~ OPENING RESPONSE FREQUENCY ~
~ COMMUNICATION MATRIX AT PEAK EFFICIENCY ~
~ SIGNAL CLEAR ~
This is the independent ship designated F4N70. I am receiving your transmission while under fire from Ageira Technologies agents who seem to not acknowledge the existence of the "Freedom of Trade" act.
My name at this time is not important and I shall reveal it when I see fit. You may address me by my ship's designation or by my locally designated nickname, Ghost.
~F4N70 was killed by Anthony.Hall (Flashpoint Mk IV)
In light of my recent transgression, I have to say I am extremely inclined towards accepting your offer...
I am a flexible fighter pilot who believes trading is the most efficient way of acquiring that which we most desire, but will not retreat from a prospective gunfight if it presents itself at the right moment in time and space.
Since I prefer heavy fighters over any other ship available, I am not much of a threat alone, an annoyance at best, but I am inclined towards being part of a team and that's where I excel from what I've observed so far. I enjoy being alone as much as the next introvert, but I do not find it as effective as most individuals might consider it to be.
My leadership skills are commendable when it comes to it. Years of intensive strategic exercises and study of human psychology have definitely left their mark on me as I am perfectly capable of anticipating my adversaries' movements after a few meager moments of observation.
I am so utterly tired of greedy, immoral trade hoarders who would rather see their fellow man dead over a few credits than aid him in his turmoils, especially in these dark times. Thus, I wish to join the honorable faction you have so kindly presented.
~ TRANSMISSION ENDED ~
~ TERMINATING NEURALNET LINK ~
~ SHUTTING DOWN MAIN COMMS ARRAY ~
"…And you, ami, will utilise my own, familiar personal, ah, locally designated nickname, as it were, of Achille. Little more, and most certainly nothing less otherwise your address would be to a nonentity when I (as a certain byproduct of a life unsaturated with certain, ludicrous deviancies such as invoking the ire of a certain Libertonian technological monopolistic hedgmon), am in fact a being of great vitality, as your eyes may yet prove indicative of."
You bear my focus, aspirant pilot (and, I assume, possessor) of the F4N70, if only due to the fact that I have never succeeded in deriving such an erudite missive from one who claims to be presently enamoured in the rigours of combat. That in itself is a somewhat spectacular quality in your favour, providing its factuality can be aptly ratified. This however, formulates a temporary, trifling inconsequence."
Achille relaxes, rotating languidly in his office chair in a palpable (almost admonishing) contrast to the overtly clandestine, pensive and calamity-wridden manner of the sender with an air so genuine it could only be a product of intense choreography.
"…From the dictatorial manner in which you pressed upon the regulatory constraints of any queries I could pelt you with, you are clearly a conscientious, conniving cockroach individual; irksome to crush into any malleable format, and thus a redoubtable one. Therefore, I will not query you over fields from which no mutual remittance can be derived. This is what the Lane Hackers are existential for (much to the bane of that acquired, and names are tawdry enough as for a man to exchange an innumerable quantity of the veils within a lifetime with a nonchalant inconsequence. For the purpose of this dialogue, "Ghost" seems nothing but apt, my illusive compadre."
The Burgundian grins amiably at the camera with an angular stare, caught between intrigue as to his conversation partner and the social pre-requisite of concealing that same curiosity. Inevitably, tact rules prevailing.
"…So, you depict yourself as a "fighter pilot". That is indeed the phrase sprung to your personal utilisation, no, evocative of testosterone, ridiculous G-force endurances and flashing ion trails? Yet you follow with the oxymoron of a financier's tongue; trading is the most efficient way of acquiring that which we most desire, yet skirt any elaboration, raising a near- irresitable invocation to my first (and perhaps, most dire) query:
"Put a name to it. What is that abstract concept (for we all have one), that "you most desire"? Name the poison particular to your pallet."
"…Finalise a satisfactory answer to that and we may continue anew, my mirage, my wraith in the void."
"…That is… if you are not so presently expired. There indeed bears an air of rebuttal to the possibility that one may be reading a resume penned by an expired corpse."
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)
~ TRANSMISSION RECEIVED ~
~ OPENING RESPONSE FREQUENCY ~
~ COMMUNICATION MATRIX AT PEAK EFFICIENCY ~
~ SIGNAL CLEAR ~
Now that I finally find myself under amiable terms, I have to say the name Ghost will suffice for those instances in which you desire to address me. Your inquiry regarding my untimely demise is, I believe, pointless once you stop to think of what my name entails. In these times of technology and scientific marvels death is but an illusion, a mere setback and nothing more. This being said, I believe there is no further point in perpetuating this already depleted vein of thought and proceed to more pressing matters.
What does man most desire? Thus is the question philosophers have posed for the past few millennia and said line of inquiry has produced varied and numerous responses, therefore rendering it futile. Fame? Glory? Riches untold or perhaps even the cold and silent embrace of death? Indeed! What does one most desire? Tis my belief that this timeless enigma will perpetuate itself throughout the eons, but let us return to the matter at hand. What do I desire, you ask...
~Ghost pauses and looks at the screen with an inquisitive smile stretching the flesh of his cheeks.
so eager to learn the answer. To answer your question I will first present you with another. What purpose does money serve? Have you ever tried going anywhere, really, and learning something new, or maybe enjoying a nice, hot cup of tea, or a round of cricket with your best mates? In how many of those instances have you been able to do so without the use of some form of monetary remuneration? But perhaps my answer is a bit too misleading for those not so gifted in the arts of rhetoric.
I do believe I have to state that I am, in fact, not on the search for petty distractions or any lavish pursuits of hedonism. Freedom, mon ami! "Liberté!", shouted the crowds at the fall of Bastille. And what freedom can we have in these days of acute interstellar trade without des argents? That, my friend, is why I put the art of trading before any other pursuit. Fighting and exploring are nothing more than a joyful thrill to me, just another expression of the notion I so liberally deem "Liberté", but without the appropriate funds for fuel, ammo and equipment, said endeavors would be so unfortunately futile, do you not agree?
~ TRANSMISSION ENDED ~
~ TERMINATING NEURALNET LINK ~
~ SHUTTING DOWN MAIN COMMS ARRAY ~
\"So, to induce an unmannerly air of brevity more readily suited to a utilitarian refuse compaction receptacle than a gentleman's (I am, of course, misogynistically concluding that you remain preconditioned with some earthly, recognisable format of masculine human genitalia in that genial, ectoplasmic plain you oh-so improbably denote yourself as being a denizen of), discourse. True . This is (of course) lamentable, as one cannot feasibly order a personage in such a morbidly Faustian phase of phantasmic physical expurgation to find employment as a subordinate under the canopy of one's proverbial wings, no? After all… *Appears to run out of oxygen and inhales audibly to clear the somewhat socially incongruous deficiency*"…The dead are remarkably challenging to insure, people raise brows of suspicion if you attempt to funnel them finance, prove particularly lacklustre labourers regardless of individual character (pardon the somewhat under-tapered point of truth, ami), and prove to be terribly unhygienic to preserve at ambient temperatures in a controlled, mostly output-less environ such as a space station. The same vapours must be inhaled repetitively, one knows, and it only takes the odd, plagued particle of puristic mortification to escape a certain filter system, and before you know it, the entire facility degrades into an orgy of sullen, slovenly lurgies; medical fares exponentially escalating into a notorious revenue drain".
"But let us place the ires of providing for you in an atypical - or, should I say, highly conventional considering the innumerable generational hordes of your equally non-existent kinsmen to the side for a moment, for you present me with a far more diabolical conundrum, verily, a saddening one. Notably, the mercenary detailing you have so equivocally outlined. You desire finance for the form of gaining assets, yes, all well and fine, for I am guilty of the same Midas. Yet you strike an impertinent disassociation between private emancipation and the systematic manufacture of personal finance."
"…Come, you intrigue me: To you, which of the two matters more? Gaining wealth for the hyperextension of influence without spirit, or gaining spirit for the hyperextension of being without wealth. Take a staunch, strong look at me before riposting, and think of the desirables."
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)
~ TRANSMISSION RECEIVED ~
~ OPENING RESPONSE FREQUENCY ~
~ COMMUNICATION MATRIX AT PEAK EFFICIENCY ~
~ SIGNAL CLEAR ~
Mon cher Nadeau, my subtlety seems to be of such a high caliber that it so gracefully eludes even a re... markable individual such as yourself. I am not, in fact, dead. This notion yet seems to escape you. My nickname does not necessarily mean that I have passed into a proverbial higher plane of existence, but may imply much more devious matters.
I have been granted the reputation of "Ghost" due to the unconventional tactics I so love to employ during my fights. You see, I was in fact dreadfully serious when I stated that "death is just an illusion" for, in my case, it most certainly is. I do believe I have mentioned my firm grasp on human psychology. From this grasp results an unusual technique of dissimulation in battle. Through elaborate sensory ques and remote equipment manipulation I am able to project the image of my vessel wherever I please, therefore confusing my already disgruntled adversaries. More than once have I simulated my own death in order to observe and prospectively assault my unsuspecting enemy at a later time. Unfortunately for me, the respectable mister Hall proved to be more than a match for me and so I chose to remain "dead". I am in fact very much alive and broadcasting from a location I would much rather maintain undisclosed.
And now to redirect my attention towards your line of inquiry. I view the spirit as a very abstract notion therefore I choose not to grant it too much of my so precious attention. However, past experience has shown me that the spirit may thrive or not regardless of whether I attend to it too much. Due to the purely conceptual and uncertain nature of this so-called spirit, I prefer to focus on more pressing material matters. My answer, as you have probably guessed by now, is that I believe in the perpetuation of power and influence through wealth and vice versa, though I do not believe wealth to be the only means for perpetuating one's influence. There are such factors as myth, legends, reputation and character. You can now understand why I strove so hard to acquire my current reputation as an obvious and unmistakable harbinger of death.
~ TRANSMISSION ENDED ~
~ TERMINATING NEURALNET LINK ~
~ SHUTTING DOWN MAIN COMMS ARRAY ~
"Permit me to riposte; your self-proclaimed subtlety bears an uncanny resemblance to the wolfish vomit of the Chant du Cygne, in the most guttural of her throws, as opposed to a knavish rake in the art of discourse. On the subject of the One True Flagship, your discourse proves as capable an escape unit as her majestic massload when confronted with an interdictive squadron of rambunctious Bretonian cruise-intolerant interceptors. A remonstrance for you; never estimate what your opposition may conclude if you do not first have a sounding of the individual. Whilst first impressions do prove servile under the odd circumstance of merit, bullishly forcing through with the full weight of your arm merely exhibits your technique to your adversary…" *coughs* "…That is to say; conversational partner."
*Achille posts towards the camera lens a demurring flicker of the eyes, obviously unimpressed by the vainglorious, vacillating applicant.*
"Firstly, 'Ghost' is not a reputation, it is a moniker. Due to your insistence upon my utilisation of that (somewhat uncreative) pseudonym, it remains somewhat suggestive that the only reason why anybody ever addresses you as such is because you have requested that right to be bequeathed upon you. Secondly, if you are a materialist creature, snuggled irreparably to your comforts, then state as much. Paragraphs of digging around the point without impacting it imply the very kind of tawdry, tardy, ill-attentive shallying mindset that the Commonwealth cannot utilise, nor will create a vacancy for."
"…At the present point, my suspension of disbelief is sorely pressed, so state to me now, in a monoline of exposition if you do so direly aspire to become a pawn of the greater good, why (to an unseanile degree of exactitude) I should barely even consider some contrived combine of a hypnotist, sensory therapist/shinobi commando iteration as an asset, as opposed to an immoderately amusing gimmick."
*A lithe, slender cigarette withers within the recesses of the ash tray*.
"You have twenty four hours, maximum, in which to arouse me ami. Do not fail your own (ghastly outsize) expectations - it'd prove awfully derogatory to your mental health, undoubtedly."
"…I await… enrapt…"
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)
~ TRANSMISSION RECEIVED ~
~ OPENING RESPONSE FREQUENCY ~
~ COMMUNICATION MATRIX AT PEAK EFFICIENCY ~
~ SIGNAL CLEAR ~
How amusing! You state that the respectable Commonwealth has no use for those with the ability to produce countless paragraphs without any substance and yet you are guilty of that exact so-called crime. And here, you were the one to state that my remarks lacked logic and coherence.
Again you fail to see the point conveyed in the exact manner you so lavishly indulge in. I am not some conjurer of cheap psychological tricks. I merely use my skills as a means of understanding my opponent. When I said "sensory illusions" what I meant to say was, bluntly, that I trick the sensors on board my enemy's ship into producing and projecting false data, therefore rendering him or her fairly disgruntled.
Indeed, Ghost is a name I demanded for myself under circumstances I bare not mention, but as of late I find that this exact so-called moniker, along with the ingenious methods I use, has produced a few bone-chilling myths that precede me as reputation. I am fairly certain you can see how this comes to my aid.
Why you should consider my joining forces with those of the Commonwealth? Well, my conversational skills should be more than sufficient.
*The shadowy figure before the camera grins revealing a pair of generously distanced frontal-superior incisors reminiscent of ancient Britons.
All jokes aside now. I have so hardly strived to infuse you with the idea that I am a resourceful individual and yet again you fail to see the point amidst my conversational distractions so I guess I'll have to go against all my convictions and repeat myself once again. Let's do this more slowly so you may understand. I. Am. A. Resourceful. In-di-vi-du-al. Furthermore, I hope you have probably observed by now the fact that I am stubborn as a mule. Although that may cause some problems it also entails that I am incredibly persistent. I do believe the Commonwealth may find some use in a decent harasser with a proper knowledge of human psychology.
P.S. I hope you will take your own words into account, make use of them and grant me with a straightforward answer.
~ TRANSMISSION ENDED ~
~ TERMINATING NEURALNET LINK ~
~ SHUTTING DOWN MAIN COMMS ARRAY ~